Âme Câline

by The Cloptimist

Rating: teen
Tags: Starlight Glimmer, Romance, Trixie, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 6225

Starlight cuddles Trixie as the sun comes up. That's it. That's the whole story. (Well, mostly.)

Starlight cuddles Trixie as the sun comes up. That's it. That's the whole story.

...Well, mostly.

Featured on 5-6 February 2021 - thank you!
Featured on Equestria Daily, March 2021

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Published 2021-02-05 16:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-02-05 16:50:00 UTC

Extracts from a Journal, as Dictated by Spell at Five O'Clock in the Morning

Watching the sun come up is meant to be one of those great experiences in life. Or, at least, that's what they tell me.

It's meant to be beautiful, right? Beautiful to look at, beautiful as a reminder of the glory of nature, beautiful as a reminder that we are all safe. "The eternal cycle of the days, showing that Celestia watches over us yet", as they taught us back in school.

I mean, that's kind of diminished, a bit, when you actually met Princess Celestia back when raising the sun was her job. Met her, and stayed in her palace, eaten her hoof-made pancakes, swapped her cutie mark out with her sister to teach her a lesson... Uh, where was I?

Right. Sunrise. Okay.

To hear Applejack talk about the sunrise, you'd swear she was a filly in class learning this stuff for the first time, saying her prayers, even though she's known Celestia and Twilight even longer than I have. Saved their lives, even. But Applejack kind of owes her cutie mark to the sunrise, and so I can kind of see why she's still filled with that sense of foalish wonder at a thing that literally happens every day.

Well, apparently it's something city folk miss out on, and so we're meant to feel grateful out here in Ponyville to be able to see it so clearly every morning. But I've seen it too many times. Back in Sire's Hollow, I used to keep the curtains drawn all the time, so I can't say I noticed it too much either way.

(Ironic, really, looking back, to think I'd grow up to know Princess Celestia personally, because when I was a filly, I wasn't really into sunlight as a concept. I wore a lot of black and stayed in the dark. My dad said he spent more on candles for my room "to get the atmosphere" than for the whole house in winter. Apparently instead of thanking him I told him he'd never understand. Let's move on.)

For me, nowadays, it's usually a reminder that I've not had enough sleep. I see the shadows start to disappear, see my bedroom start to change color in the red and gold of the early morning light, and instead of making me think about Celestia, it means one of two things. Either I've gone to bed too late, because I was awake in the middle of the night doing research—and, I mean, really, that's not my fault, is it? Give a pony who loves magic the keys to a giant library full of books about magic, what did Twilight expect was going to happen? And then, when that magic-loving pony makes a suggestion that the new Princess should just make the days twice as long, so those of us with access to sleep-delaying spells can get twice as much reading done, all of a sudden it's "dangerous" and "against nature" and "ponies need sleep" and "I'm getting worried about you." (Gee, Twilight, time was you'd have loved to learn about a sleep deprivation spell, rather than worrying about the implications for the rest of ponykind and for me... You're getting nearly as bad as Trixie.)

Speaking of...

"...mmmf, Starlight, you gotta hrbl brbl mumble GREAT and POWERFUL burble mumble been a WONDERFUL audienzzzzzzz!"

...Right on cue. Never change, you crazy, ridiculous, incredible girl.

I don't have the right words. Even though I'm watching in the dim light as these words appear on the pages of my journal. It's still kind of fun to see it happen with no quill, no scratching sounds to wake anypony, just watching the words appear like this, out of nowhere.

I'm proud of this one, even if I probably should tweak it some more so that it doesn't write down everything I think. Apparently writing a new spell made up from bits of other spells doesn't count as "creating new magic," because nopony has pulled me into some weird space realm to give me a title and a pair of wings.

I don't need or want those things. I'm safe. I'm warm. I'm forgiven. I'm happy. I have her.

Look, though! Just look how long it's been since my last middle-of-the-night entry! I almost want to wake her up right now just so I can talk to her about it. I want her to be proud of me. I want that even more than I want to write to Princess Twilight and let her know how well I'm doing. But I don't think Trixie would thank me for waking her up at the crack of dawn to tell her how long it's been since I last woke up at the crack of dawn. I'll tell her in the morning, over breakfast, and she'll do that thing where she pretends to listen and doesn't interrupt even though she knows I'm way too excited, and she'll yawn and look out of the window and just generally be her usual annoying perfect self, and she'll give me that little smile, and everything in the world will be alright even though I woke up too early.

Oh, yeah, that's what I was talking about. The sunrise. If I see it, then either I've gone to bed too late, or I've woken up too early, because I couldn't sleep. And it can take me hours to get back to sleep, because my brain won't let me just switch off and enjoy this warm bed, and this cuddle.

Now, there was a time—a long time, really, but also a long time ago—that I'd spend pretty much every night not sleeping.

Well, as lovely and relaxing as this cuddle is, it's not like I'm heading back to sleep any time soon. Maybe let's start at the beginning?

(Well, not the beginning, exactly.)

If somepony tells you to "make some friends"... what are you meant to do with that? If I knew the secret to making friends, I wouldn't need help making friends.

Besides, I had a friend once. He was my whole world, and we both knew we'd go on and do everything together, grow up together, go to Celestia's school in Canterlot, get married, be powerful magicians, maybe great ones.

Yeah, I know, marrying Sunburst wouldn't have worked out particularly well for either of us, but... well, you know what foals are like. It was just one of those things I assumed was going to happen because it was supposed to happen. (If I kind of cringe at the thought now of Dad giving us his knowing winks and talking about how his little punky-wunk had a crush, I can also suppress a little giggle at how wildly off-base his guess turned out to be.)

Thing is, they never really tell you what to do when the things that are so obviously supposed to happen... well, don't.

They called me a loner. Dad called me a free spirit who just hadn't found her path yet. Everypony called it a phase. How many times did I overhear some well-meaning relative, or teacher, or probation officer? (Or sometimes, right to my face?) "If that pony could just make some friends..."

Cutie marks were the bane of my life. Every time somepony in my class got one, it was like they were closing a door. And when I got mine, and nopony could tell what it was besides "something magical," well, that was the end of my long-cherished hope that I'd find a new friend and we could bond together over a mutual love of whatever picture appeared on my flank.

I tried to fit in, I really did. I was getting a reputation as kind of a bookworm, and those coffee ponies with their sudden interest in helping out at the bookstore seemed promising. I mean, who doesn't like coffee? Once we were old enough to drink it, that is. So I started trying to hang out with Raspberry Latte and Minty Mocha and we'd talk about books and coffee, and for a while it was sort of working. But I was always interested in what was in the books, the spells and stories and history we could find, rather than page counts and cover materials and textual variants. I was always interested in the way coffee made me feel, rather than talking about roasting tips and tasting notes and water blends and whatever. I thought we shared an interest, but then I realised how foolish I'd been. It wasn't just something they were interested in, it was their destiny. How could I compete with that? Without a matching cutie mark, how could I be anypony's friend? How could anypony be friends with anypony else?

I realise I'm breathing heavily, grinding my teeth. My heart's racing, and not in the good way. Look at how many pages I just filled there.

But it's okay. I'm okay. I breathe. It's not going to happen. Not now, not with her by my side. I breathe. I can feel her hooves wrapped around me. I breathe. I can feel her and hear her and smell her. She's got me. I'm fine. Perfectly fine.

...Where was I?

After I got my cutie mark, I started to notice a change in the way ponies behaved around me, although at first I couldn't quite put my hoof on what was different. Every time I mastered a tough spell, every time the teacher had to keep me back after class to explain exactly what I'd done, every time I walked past a group of ponies in the playground and heard them talking in low murmurs... None of those things was new, the words of praise and caution were the same, the sly looks and secret whispers, and yet now it felt strange, slightly unnatural. It was a while before I realised what it was.

Fear. They feared me.

And at least fear was a reaction. If I couldn't be their friend, I could still be in their thoughts. I could make them take notice. I could show them I was worth paying attention to. I could learn dark magic and conquer the school and force everypony to listen to what I had to say. I could find a way to enslave them all, declare myself leader, rise up against Princess Celestia. It had been done before. Nightmare Moon got sloppy. I wouldn't.

I hated myself for thinking those thoughts. When I was trapped in the changeling hive, thinking I was about to die, with almost everypony I ever loved hanging in a cocoon above me, I saw how those changelings looked at Chrysalis, and that memory came back to me, clear as fresh water. I thought about how, if teenage Starlight could have seen that hive, seen the way the Queen ruled with an iron hoof over a bunch of pathetic, cowering subjects, I'd probably have thought it was perfect.

Back at school, I realised that the biggest hurdle wasn't learning the spells, or making the plans. I realised the main thing that stops a pony becoming a monster is just not being willing to become a monster. And I never wanted to be a monster. I knew my ideas were strong enough to stand up on their own. If it wasn't for cutie marks, they'd listen to me, and they'd listen because I made good points, not because they were scared. But it was too late. I'd missed my chance. I couldn't be their friend, because too much time had passed. And I couldn't be their leader, because they'd never separate this supposedly powerful, confident pony from the loner emo nerd whose Dad turned up at school with some daisies and an apple to loudly declare his little honey-bunny had left her lunch at home. If I wanted to remake the world the way I wanted it, I'd either have to burn everything to the ground, or leave.

And so, before I ended up doing a terrible thing, I left.

I know I've said this a million times before already, but I swear I never meant to "lead by fear and intimidation", like I told Chrysalis. I wanted to make the world a better place, and I thought I was making everypony happy by taking away their fears of inadequacy, or stopping those doors to friendship being closed because of something as arbitrary as a cutie mark.

For a long time, I spent my days pretending to be the leader I wanted to be: unquestioned, unchallenged, admired and respected. Do you know what I spent my nights doing? Worrying. Knowing that even without their cutie marks, the growing herd of ponies outside my cottage outnumbered me by dozens to one. Our town was only ever one overly-perceptive visitor with a big mouth away from a revolution, and I didn't know what would happen if that day ever came. I was as scared for them as I was for me.

So I spent my nights thinking over any possible threats, any radical ideas, anything that had been said or done that day that could challenge me. My bed was cold, and empty, and I told myself that that was right, that was how it was supposed to be, because even though I'd lied about keeping my magic, I couldn't be accused of having things better than anypony else. If we all had nothing, we couldn't be jealous of what anypony else had.

Much later, the thought of those scared schoolponies came back to me, over and over again. After the Cogeria-Persuadere-Fiducia Compelis Incident, no matter how well I patched things up with everypony, there was always the nagging doubt in my mind about... well, about what nagging thoughts they had in their minds. The thought that however sincere their words of friendship and foregiveness were, however tight those hugs were, however proud they all looked when I got my medal, perhaps there was always a grain of fear buried deep inside—a fear that one day I might turn again, and they'd have to put me down.

Princess Luna knows that feeling all too well, I'm sure. Sunset Shimmer, too, and Discord. And Trixie. It's something we all recognise in each other, something that Twilight, Celestia, Rainbow Dash or whoever... none of them can ever really, truly know what it's like. To mess up so badly that nopony you ever meet will ever truly forget it. Or let you forget it.

But unlike all of the others, Trixie is the one pony who never made me feel that way. Trixie is scared of a lot of things. Trixie is never scared of me. She feels safe with me, and I feel safe with her, and here we are in bed, and it's... magical.

...Wait, did I say that last part out loud?

It's not just the "former villain" thing, of course. I mean, that was what intrigued me about her the first time we ever met, for sure. Here I was trying to make friends in Ponyville, the so-called friendliest place in Equestria despite the number of times some super-villain had tried to wipe it off the map, where everypony seemed to be happy and well-adjusted and just generally completely unready to deal with a pony like me who wanted to get better but needed help not ruining everything six times an hour. And then I meet a pony who not only knows what it's like to deal with the looks and murmurs, and the fear, but who actually fought Princess Twilight, just like me.

I probably sound oblivious now, but I wasn't attracted to her back then, or at least not consciously. I wouldn't say that I had any strong feelings for mares or stallions, really. Romance was something from books that happened once you'd got past the basics of being able to talk to another pony without tripping over your own tongue or making them think you were about to enslave their village. Any time I thought about it more than that, I'd think of my cheeks burning as my Dad teased me about his little pudding finding a nice colt, and then I'd involuntarily think of Sunburst, and I'd want to go out and kick things. So, yeah, I didn't think about Trixie like that when I first met her, only that finally here was a pony I could relate to, and who might be able to relate to me; a pony who I could talk to about a shared experience that had nothing to do with our cutie marks.

But I did really like her mane.

So, anyway, I've written a lot about those first couple of days and how we got to be friends, but what really struck me after the big show was over was how Trixie wanted to take her Equestrian Apology Tour out on the road. I understood, sure, although I was a little hurt, but she promised she'd come back to Ponyville and see me again soon, and invited me to join the show if I happened to be somewhere when she was in town. I remember she looked shocked when I offered to visit her on the road just to see her.

I remember there was a strange little pause right after she said goodbye, where she gave me a hug that lasted just a moment longer than I thought it would, and when it was over she looked almost disappointed, and I found myself wanting to hug her again. But it was too late, she was already stepping into her harness to take her wagon to Canterlot, and all I could do was wave.

I didn't realise it right away, but not for the last time, she'd showed me what I needed to do.

I look at my journals from back then and it's funny how much I talk about Trixie—writing to Trixie, what I was going to put in my next letter to Trixie, how proud I hoped Trixie would be of some friendship lesson I'd passed—and yet now I seem like I was completely blind as to why. I missed her. I wanted to see her again. I knew there was something about meeting face-to-face, holding each other close, that I couldn't get just from letters.

Saving the world together made a difference. I mean, after the medal ceremony, I remember just looking at her posing for pictures and signing autographs, and thinking about her in a whole new light after seeing her heroism in the hive. Sure, yes, her self-sacrifice, but also her ingenuity, her ideas. Of course, some other things (like how good she looked with those saddlebags) only really came into focus later on...

Anyway, so, after my graduation, Twilight might have thought I was ready to move on and face the world, or at least that I'd learned all the most important lessons of friendship. It took me a while, but I finally figured out why I didn't feel the same way. I needed to say I was sorry, and not just to the ponies I'd directly harmed, but to everypony. I hadn't been punished, and maybe that was fine for everyone else, but I needed to feel like I'd at least tried to take it on the muzzle, facing up to whatever bad things came my way. It was what Trixie had done, after all. And then it hit me: I should do what she did. My own Equestrian Apology Tour.

So, I talked it over with Twilight, and she seemed to think it was a good idea if I was sure I wanted to do that, to talk about how friendship had saved me and how it was never too late and all that kind of stuff. I remember writing to Trixie telling her what I was planning, and I got a letter back mocking me for stealing her idea, but then in tiny letters at the bottom it said:

Trixie is proud of you

So, I headed out to give some talks about my experiences, face to face, and that's how six months after saving the world I ended up giving a slide show presentation about friendship in front of a crowd of strange ponies.

"My name is Starlight Glimmer, and... I once did a terrible thing."

Somepony came up to me after one of those talks. The second or third presentation I did, I think, in some community center in Canterlot. I don't know her name, and I can't remember her eyes or her coat, but I remember the cutie mark. Pinking shears. Which is something I had to look up afterwards, when we were going over it again and Twilight was trying to work out who this annoying mare was, and Pinkie got all excited because she thought it had something to do with her, and apparently I was too blunt or something because then there was this whole thing with a cake while we tried to cheer her up again and Rainbow kept glaring at me, and -

And... I'm babbling. So, anyway, that pony—I'm just going to call her Pinking Shears—comes up to me at the end, and I turn to her ready to answer her question, and then I see she has this really weird look on her face, and I back away, because I don't know whether I'm about to get a hoof in my face, or a zap to the horn. And do you know what the worst thing about that is for me? Right then and there, I mean?

It's not the fear of getting hit. It's not the feeling that maybe I deserved to be hit. It's not even the idea—an idea that crosses my mind uninvited, whispering to me from some dark corner, and then won't shut up, even as I try not to shudder—that perhaps it's for the best if this pony does hit me, because it might give us both some closure.

No. None of those things. This is where my mind was at back then: I was thinking about how many reasons I might have given this pony for her to want to hit me. Good, solid reasons for her to hate me, as I'm trying to work out whether she's about to resort to physical violence. And the worst part of it was this:

I couldn't even narrow it down.

She wasn't one of mine, for sure—however much I wanted us all to be equal, I remember all their faces and manes, remember each and every cutie mark I placed in that vault. But... who knows? Who did I hurt? Her sister? Her brother? Mother? Daughter? Lover? Who was it this time? Who was that pony they knew, the pony who left home one day and just never came back? Whose best friend got a free copy of my manifesto in the mail, with a typewritten covering letter full of "I've found true friendship" and "please don't look for me, I'm happy" and whatever else I put in that script?

Whose lives did I ruin this time?

Anyway, so, it turns out Pinking Shears doesn't want to hit me at all, and, yeah, like I said, I'm kind of unsure at this point as to whether I should be glad about it. And then—oh, here. Twilight taught me a neat trick once where I could go back into a memory and try and pull things out to see how I remembered them, this seems like a good time to use it...

"So," she said. "You don't remember me, do you?"

I didn't.

"I'm one of the gardeners at the Palace, in Canterlot," she explained. I nodded, but I must not have looked very convincing, because she rolled her eyes. "I was there when you came to see the Princesses, and ended up swapping their cutie marks. We met at the rose growing competition, although I think you were a bit distracted."

"Oh!," I said, reaching out to shake her hoof, the relief washing over me so much that I almost don't automatically look for the standard blink-and-you'll-miss-it flinch that ponies do whenever I do that. She somewhat gingerly takes my hoof in hers and shakes it before quickly letting go. It's fine. I'm used to it.

"It's, um, nice to see you again?," I said, too brightly, projecting too much fake confidence. I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I haven't gotten to talk to many ponies after these things yet. I guess I'm nervous."

She looked at me for a moment, and then asked her question. "What are the odds," she asked, "of you using that spell, and finding something so interesting by accident?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The spell to switch the Princesses' cutie marks," she replied. "We had a meeting for all the staff after you left, and Princess Celestia mentioned the dream you'd had, about her and Princess Luna going dark and fighting one another? The Princesses wanted to reassure us that that would never happen in real life, and that you'd helped them become closer to each other. All good stuff! But I kept thinking about the dream she said you had."

"My dream?"

"Yes. You dreamed that because you messed up, or thought you messed up, everypony's lives would be in danger. I thought it was interesting—you cast that spell to help the Princesses understand each other better, but you kind of showed something about yourself, too. Your talk tonight was really good, but I just wanted to tell you I don't think you can mess it up that badly. I mean, all of us that work with Princess Luna, we've all had A Talk about her slipping back into old habits, and she told us about this time she accidentally unleashed some kind of giant dream monster on Ponyville... Luna said she had to learn to trust other ponies when we said we trusted her not to go bad again. And, uh... Well, I think I trust you."

"Well... thank you! I thought you were going to say something about my old village," I blurted out, immediately regretting my lack of subtlety. She looked at me, tilted her head, adopted a weird expression. There was a long, awkward silence, and just when I was about to say something else just to fill it, she spoke up again, quieter this time.

"I was, actually."

She bit her lip.

"My brother... He lived in your village. After he lost his job, he went out looking for work in another town. We didn't hear from him for so many moons, and then he sent us a letter, and a copy of some book. Said he was happy."

My heart sank to my knees, but somehow I found the voice to feebly ask: "What's his name?"

"Burlap," she replied, and after a pause: "The weaver."

"...I know who he is," I muttered. "I lived with him in the village, worked with him every day, wore his cloaks." I tried not to smile or shudder at that particular memory. "I know he's doing well with his shop now. I never forgot any of my..."—I paused for a moment before continuing—"...any of my friends' names," I finished.

"Well, I wasn't sure how I was going to feel when I heard you were coming to the palace," she said, chewing each word over as she spoke, "but when you arrived I knew I forgave you. I mean, you found what you were looking for. And the ponies you, uh... Well, they found it too. You all found friendship. But it was kind of almost by mistake, wasn't it?"

A lot of things happen to me by mistake, or at least by accident. Finding Trixie was the best one.

Feeling her holding me like this, kind of nuzzling, murmuring in her sleep, it's funny now to remember how long it took me to realise what we were both feeling. What she wanted. What I wanted.

She knew long before me. I know, because she teases me about it often enough that I don't even react any more, which I'm sure causes her all kinds of frustration. But it used to be a regular occurrence at breakfast, or when meeting Dad, or during some incredibly important meeting with the EEA, where she'd find a way to work into the conversation just how blind I was to her (pretty obvious) advances.

The momentary look of disappointment when Thorax showed us to our separate guest rooms at the newly rebuilt hive, for instance. The way she leaned in for an embrace after we beat the Maulwurf and I gave her a tight little hug and a pat on the back, and then did the same to Pharynx. The whole business on our badly-planned road trip to Somnambula and Saddle Arabia, when I couldn't understand how she was getting so annoyed at my snoring.

Oh, right, the snoring. Yeah, I really wondered at the time why it was such a massive deal for her. I know now, of course, that she was hoping to spend more nights with me. I mean, I wanted that too, even if I hadn't completely understood it at the time. And back in Ponyville, even though we'd just vowed never to take another magic show road trip together, she pestered me until I found a spell for Twilight to cast on me that would minimise my snoring in the future, because "you never know when you might need it." She might have winked, I don't remember.

Yeah, I'm dumb.

Anyway, likewise, I never understood why she was so angry at all the interruptions that kept ruining our picnics and lunches that time when I had the summoning bracelet on my hoof. She must have been building herself up to ask the question I was obviously too oblivious to ask, and then just when she'd found her voice, I'd literally disappear and sometimes not come back.

And then, finally, before the big battle with the three villains, when Chrysalis was about to storm the School... finally, right in the middle of making an evacuation battle plan, just as we're about to leave my office (maybe for the last time ever, as far as either of us knows) and gather the kids, she gives me this look, and I stare back kind of blankly, and I guess that must have been the last straw because she gives this unbelievably irritated groan and just grabs me and pushes me against the wall and just... she just kisses me, and instead of being shocked or trying to process anything I just kiss her back, because suddenly everything falls into place, everything I've been thinking about makes sudden, perfect sense, and I'm even more annoyed by the world-threatening villain attack than I was before. If I wasn't fired up to fight Chrysalis before, I definitely was after that. How dare some changeling think she could take this away from me?

Because this, right now? Here, in bed, being held in her hooves? This is bliss. I want to reach back into the past and tell my past self just what she's missing.

She still drives me crazy. She's still, without a doubt, the most annoying pony I've ever met. She has an absolutely flawless knack for saying the most inappropriate thing in any situation you can think of. I don't know if I've managed to introduce her once to somepony new without wanting to shrink away and disappear in embarrassment. She breaks things and burns things and eats the last strawberry without telling me. She forgets to tell me about important letters. She whines, constantly, for me to help her clean up whatever new mess she's managed to get into. Sometimes it's an actual literal mess I need to tidy away (or mop up, or rebuild), sometimes it's loosely-explained shenanigans that require me to call in a favour to get her out of trouble. She knows I'll always say yes. Or, well, almost always.

And she loves me. She was willing to die for me in the hive, and at the school, and a half dozen other times since, and never mentioned it. She's brave, and clever, and she really does have an astonishing talent for magic.

When it comes to researching real spells, she has ideas I'd never have thought of by myself, and when it's stage magic she's the greatest showpony I've ever seen. When I watch her performing—from the audience, or from the wings if we're in a far-off town and I'm not going to distract everypony by going on stage as her Great and Powerful Assistant—it's still a thrill to see her tricks when they go right, even now. To see the look on her face, beaming smile, sweating, chest heaving, as the crowd stomp and roar in approval, the pride I feel is... Well, I'm sure I've written it a hundred times already.

She's holding me so close I can feel her heartbeat. I can feel her breath on the back of my neck as she nuzzles me in her sleep. I want her to hold me tighter. I always want her to hold me tighter. Sometimes I scrunch my eyes closed and wish as hard as I can that she'll cuddle me even closer and I'll melt into her and just stay in that perfect moment, forever.

Not once, but twice, I've had the power to force ponies to do the things I want, in a manner of speaking. I'd never use those powers again, of course, and definitely not on my friends, and absolutely not on her. Friends don't mind control other friends. If it's kind of embarrassing now to think back on how I had to be taught that, I can allow myself a little smile because I know it worked out in the end. Every day it gets easier to live with the pony I used to be, and when I'm with Trixie... well, there's something to be said for being with the one pony in Equestria who I can rely on to almost never do what I want.

Because, you see, nowadays I don't usually wake up thinking about all the terrible things I did, or worrying about what's going to go wrong tomorrow. I don't think about what monster is going to invade Ponyville and try to ruin the lives of everypony I care about, or whether I'm going to be able to help this time.

Nowadays, I wake up, and I feel that heartbeat, and I feel my heartbeat, and I play a game where I try to will my heartbeat to slow down and match hers, two bodies in perfect synchronisation.

It never works, because I feel her holding me, sometimes she'll twitch and spasm in her sleep or start murmuring something in her soft, breathy voice, and my heart will speed up all by itself, in the good way this time, and I lose the game, and I don't care because I'm with her. And if I'm with her, everything is going to be just fine.

She's my Great and Powerful wife, and I love her.

Author's Note

Written to mark my 2-year Fimfiction anniversary, and also because I love these two a lot.

Epilogue: Trixie

Trixie half-opens her eyes, drowsy and confused. The room is dark. The shadows are all wrong, and it takes her a moment to realise she's not in her wagon, that she's looking at Starlight's bedroom ceiling. Their bedroom ceiling.

Trixie thinks about how she got here. About the series of unlikely events that led her to this bedroom, this bed; to this embrace. She cuddles herself closer to the gently snoring mare beside her, buries her face in her mane, thinks about everything they've been through together.

Trixie is still half-asleep, but the memories of a thousand cold, lonely, sleepless nights on the road in an empty bed are gathering around her, like so many uninvited ghosts.

There was a time, Trixie knows, when she would have spent the rest of the night thinking about how she got to here from there. Worrying that she wasn't good enough, and that this was surely the last night she'd ever spend cuddled up with this wonderful, infuriating pony. Worrying that tomorrow morning, Starlight would finally realise she could do so much better, finally put into words what Trixie knew she had been thinking after every malfunctioning spell, every crazy idea gone awry, every badly chosen word, every broken teacup.

That time is gone. It's gone, and it's never coming back.

Trixie smiles as she closes her eyes again, and those ghosts evaporate from around the bed. All of them. Every last one. Gone.

"The Great and Powerful Trixie," she murmurs to nopony in particular, "is happy."

Trixie drifts back to sleep.

Author's Note

Why the title? It's an obscure but really rather lovely French pop song from the 60s, and it translates as something like Cuddly Soul or Soul Hugs. Although the URL can't handle the character â, so apparently this story should be retitled Me Cline.

I love these ponies.