We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess

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Written by: Oneimare

Preread and edited by: Typoglyphic

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This story is an overdue gift to my dear friend, who never fails to make my days bright.

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Act 1 Part 1

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Twilight’s number one assistant barely looked over his shoulder before returning his attention to the soapy dishes clinking against each other in the sink, “Hello, Starlight.”

“Oh… Um… Hi, Spike…”

She couldn’t tell if the little dragon had chosen to forget how she almost killed him mere weeks ago or if he simply couldn’t remember plummeting towards the ground while trapped inside a crystal mass. It was impossible to say which was worse.

A few rinsed and sparkling plates were stacked before the increasingly uneasy silence was finally broken.

“Lost again, aren’t cha?” The fake sympathetic amusement and sound of running water almost managed to hide the vexation in Spike’s voice.

“Yeah…” lied Starlight. To be lost one had to know where they were going, an issue she had been facing far too often as of late.

Dreading another awkward pause in the conversation, Starlight did the only thing she deemed a reasonable solution—to silently leave the kitchen.

“If you’re looking for the bathroom…” Spike’s words reached her droopy ears, but she was too far away to hear the rest, nor did she need to—the layout of the Castle of Friendship was already familiar enough to her.

As the clatter of the tableware faded away, a deep sigh bounced off the crystal walls. It wasn’t the failed attempt at socializing that bothered Starlight so—her and Spike could never really hit it off. The Castle of Friendship resembling a labyrinth wasn’t much of a problem either; most of its rooms were empty and useless to its residents, so there was no need to memorize everything. Her issue was with the material comprising almost every surface in the castle.

No matter where she looked, her reflection met her. She even changed her manecut to escape from that mare, and it helped none.

A door into some small dark room opened with a soft creak, and Starlight stared at motes of dust glimmering in the glow of her magic. She didn't expect to find anything worth her attention in there, yet she somehow ended up being disappointed.

“What did I do to be treated that way by her?” One of the thoughts tormenting her was brought into reality as half moan and half mumble, echoing in the empty room.

“Who?”

“Twilight, who else?” Only a moment later Starlight realized she wasn’t alone. “Gah!”

Disturbed by the sudden yell, Owlowiscious fled the room in the flurry of feathers, not-so-accidentally slapping Starlight’s ears with his wings on the way out. Being already disoriented by the surprising discovery, she stumbled and fell with a yelp, readily caught by brooms and empty buckets.

Her hooves flailed in panic, fighting back the wooden handle and soon the thrashing ceased and was replaced by a strained silence—Starlight was listening for Spike, who could have heard the ruckus she caused. No sound of little feet hurrying down the hall came, so, with a loud groan, she let herself relax into the rigid embrace of cleaning inventory.

Starlight went on glaring at the ceiling, failing to decide whether she should be angry at the pony responsible for storing the castle's entire stock of cleaning supplies in a single room, herself for getting caught up in it, or the impish owl who had at some point perched himself on the tip of a slightly skewed broom.

Meeting the unmoving eyes of the owl, glowing with the reflections of her magic, she barked, “What do you want from me now?”

“Who?” came the answer.

“I don’t know what else I expected from you…” Starlight mumbled grouchily. In a strained tone, she added, “You want me to go away, everypony but Twilight does.”

Owlowiscious gave no response and kept staring at Starlight until she could bear it no more.

Cursing under her breath, Starlight freed herself from the tangle of wooden handles, metal buckets, and dirty mops.

“Well, it was nice chatting with you, but I’ve gotta go,” Starlight stammered, bolting out of the room and slamming the door. She had no idea how Owlowiscious got in. Scrunching her nose, she grumbled, “I don’t know how Twilight stands that creepy bird. Maybe Spike and I have more common ground than I thought.”

Cleaning the mess she caused was an activity Starlight decided to postpone for some other day -if not forever: that closet didn’t seem to be visited very often anyway.

The piercing gaze of Twilight’s pet owl no longer bore into Starlight’s very heart, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling of acute discomfort. Perhaps it was the image of a mare staring from the corner of her eye, the one who would be gone the moment she turned, yet at the same time would always be there.

“What am I doing?” Shuddering, she turned on her hooves. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Hurriedly, as if chased, she began to navigate her way out of the castle.

Moondancer’s voice came out of the bookshelf’s depths, followed by the folio held in her magic's glow, “Here you go, the last book you needed for your student.”

The pinkish aura changed into a brighter shade and the thick tome opened, the rustle of the pages adding to the sound of Moondancer digging herself out of Canterlot Library’s vast literature collection.

“Thank you again. I don’t know how I would have found anything here without your help.” Despite how jovial Twilight’s words sounded, her next words were preceded by a sigh. “It hasn’t been long since I last visited this library, but it already feels like a different place.”

Finally, Moondancer emerged from the wall of books, dusting off her hooves—a purely symbolic gesture.

“Yup, a lot of sections have been renovated.” She nodded, adding with a sly smile, “‘Advanced Magic Theory’ is pretty much still the same, though, since nopony but you ever visited it.”

No quippy response followed Moondancer’s words. Twilight didn’t seem to react to her friend’s harmless jab at all, instead sightlessly staring at the cover of the tome she was still holding in her magic.

The grin on Moondancer’s muzzle turned into a frown.

“Twilight, is everything alright?”

The question startled Twilight from her reverie, and with an awkward chuckle, she absentmindedly replied, “Ah, yes. Sorry,” –she cleared her throat– “I was just thinking about the books for Starlight.”

“You seem to worry about her quite a lot,” Moondancer commented and then scrunched her muzzle in indecision.

Twilight showed more attention to Moondancer words, though it made no improvements to her melancholy as she sighed deeply before answering, “I can’t not worry. She’s having a lot of trouble with her reintroduction into society.”

Then she fell silent, obviously not intending to contribute to the conversation anymore.

Moondancer’s face continued to contort with signs of internal battle, and it took her a full minute before she made up her mind and chose to speak again, ”Maybe… maybe it wasn’t the right call?”

“What?” Twilight jerked out of her trance, a completely flabbergasted and lost expression on her face. “What are you talking about?”

Moondancer cringed away and mumbled something under her breath, however, seeing Twilight’s attention now entirely focused on her—looking at her intently with her head tilted, eyes wide—she had no choice but to explain herself.

“Don’t get me wrong, Twi...” Moondancer reluctantly began, her words becoming a sigh of regret. She quickly composed herself and continued, “Starlight Glimmer tried to... to do some bad things. You are a princess, so you probably know better, but... shouldn’t there be a trial?”

Twilight was taken aback by Moondancer’s words, yet she still answered in a calm and deliberate tone, “I witnessed with my own eyes Starlight doing those things, true.” She shuddered and deeply inhaled. ”I also saw her showing genuine repentance in the end; that’s why I forgive her. Isn’t remorse the point of a trial?”

Instead of responding to Twilight immediately, Moondancer took time by putting the books strewn around back on the shelves. Not able to resist helping her, Twilight joined, keeping her gaze locked on Moondancer and impatiently waiting for the answer.

“I'm not saying this is the case, but what if you’re wrong?” Moondancer finally spoke in an unsure voice and added even more softly, “Starlight almost destroyed Equestria in a way.”

“I know that better than anypony else.” Twilight bristled in indignation, yet for a moment a profoundly haunted expression visited her eyes. “I have valid reasons to forgive Starlight after all she has done,” she nearly snapped.

“Of course you do,” Moondancer replied with a sad sigh.

By that time all the books took their respective places on the shelves and two mares had no choice but to face each other.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Again, Moondancer was hesitant with the answer, choosing instead to shuffle the books on the trolley, putting them into neat columns and rows. This time Twilight stood idly, her body rigid, silently watching her friend.

“You used the Elements on Nightmare Moon and Discord, you put Tirek in Tartarus, but for some reason, you let a threat of the same if not higher level walk practically away.” Moondancer paused, struggling to find the right words and finally her patience met its end. “I just don’t get it. Are you trying to prove something, or…”

Moondancer trailed off when she saw Twilight’s reaction to her words—she could have as well slapped her friend. Twilight’s eyes grew wide in genuine bewilderment, ears became pressed to her skull and she stared at Moondancer like her friend grew a second horn. However, the shocked look on her face quickly morphed into that of disappointment, much to Moondancer’s confusion.

They awkwardly stood in the dim between the bookshelves, until Moondancer spoke, apologetic:

“You’re the smartest pony I know, but you’re just a pony. Anypony can make a mistake…” Once again she was forced to stop, on her own volition this time—there were some heartstrings too easy to tug in that conversation and she lacked the social grace to not strike them… again. With a deep sigh, Moondancer quietly added, “I’m just worried about you. About Spike. About everypony.”

Twilight’s jaws worked as she was coming up with a response, the discontent in her eyes giving a clear hint of what it might be.

“Thank you for your concern,” she finally said in a hollow and cold voice, “but there is no need for it. Starlight wasn’t like any other threat I encountered in the past. She isn’t a crazy draconequus or a power-hungry centaur, but a pony, like you and me.'' With those words, Twilight levitated the tomes into her saddlebags. “I have faith in her, and I wish you had faith in me. Now, excuse me.”

Then she all but galloped away from her friend.

Starlight was dragging her hooves across the dirt paths of Ponyville instead of the crystal floors of the Castle of Friendship, yet not much had changed for her. The blue sky above was an improvement, but the brilliance of a nice day was fully countered by the looks the ponies were giving her. The rumours did spread like wildfire, it seemed.

Being self-confined to the dark corridors of the castle, Starlight was unfamiliar with its surroundings, so the only thing she could do was to aimlessly wander them, wondering at the quaint country life… which was starkly reminding her of Our Town, a place she tried not to think about. So it was no big surprise when her hooves unconsciously led her to the outskirts of Ponyville. However, keeping to the shadows was a fully conscious decision—the last thing she wanted was the questions that might follow the stares. She would rather spend the rest of her life in Tartarus than hear, “Did you really enslave an entire village?”

Tired of sweeping the cramped alleys with her tail, Starlight made a beeline for one of the countless meadows starting beyond the one-story houses. As soon as she reached the nearest tree she slumped at its roots with a groan and let her head fall on her hooves, ears drooping along. Her peace wasn’t to last long.

“Hiya, Starlight!”

It wouldn't be as bad if she was addressed from any other direction but straight above her. A few moments of hyperventilating passed as Starlight suppressed the urge to blast the source of the voice; a few more to come to terms with the fact it was Pinkie Pie hanging from a branch like a bat, patiently waiting for her response.

Starlight was quite aware of Pinkie’s antics and deliberately chose to ignore the way the enigmatic earth pony regularly violated the laws of time and space. The important thing was Pinkie always acting genuinely friendly towards her. Although Starlight suspected it wasn’t due to the merits she possessed, but rather due to Pinkie’s innate inability to be unfriendly with absolutely everypony, it was no reason to be rude.

“Hello, Pinkie,” Starlight exhaled when she was finally able to breathe normally.

“Whatcha doing here?” the pink menace asked instantly as if she didn’t almost give Starlight a heart attack mere moments ago.

“Nothing,” Starlight said without a thought.

Though she could swear absolutely no part of Pinkie’s face moved, the unblinking stare somehow changed from one full of expectation to one... of disappointment.

That prompted Starlight to urgently rectify her answer.

“Went out for a walk. You?”

“Oh!” Pinkie’s eyes grew wide and she took a very very deep breath.

Starlight barely stopped herself from groaning and rolling her eyes as she knew what to expect next. Pinkie spoke quickly and barely intelligibly:

“I was baking a cake for Lyra because Minuette is visiting her next week and Bon Bon couldn’t make one herself, then I realized I was out of blue sprinkles and I didn’t want to ask Mr. Cake again, so I went out, and…

Almost as soon as Pinkie began to tell her needlessly long and detailed story, Starlight let herself space out, listening to her thoughts instead.

Pinkie was one of many Twilight's friends she had trouble finding common ground with. If she was honest with herself, that applied to every other pony and it was clear as day.

Was it something wrong with everypony or something wrong with herself?

However, for some reason she couldn’t understand, Twilight didn’t shun her and even invited her to live in her castle. Was it out of pity? Twilight wasn’t Fluttershy, but she certainly was quite a kind mare. Or was it vanity? To have her, a broken villain, like a trophy on a wall?

No, Twilight wasn’t that kind of pony! She was so nice, she would never…

“...and it meant my Pinkie Sense was telling me somepony not far away was really miserable, and then I met you.” Pinkie Pie paused only for as long as it took her to inhale once. “We said hello to each other and I asked you ‘Whatcha doing here?’ and you said, ‘Nothing. Went out for a walk. You?’ and I said–”

By some miracle did Starlight detect a pattern in Pinkie’s prolonged explanation, and she barked, “Pinkie!”

Caught up in her unpleasant thoughts, Starlight let too much bitterness slip into her shout, which wasn’t supposed to even be a shout. She clamped her hooves over her mouth and cautiously looked at her company.

Still hanging from the branch, Pinkie Pie innocently batted her eyelashes and asked with as much ingenuousness as possible, “Yes, Starlight?”

Starlight tried to act friendly for once and recall at least something from Pinkie’s story but found very little success. “Uh… did you get the... twinkles?”

Instead of answering straight away, Pinkie disconnected herself from the tree and fell on the ground in a rain of leaves. She instantly recovered, and before Starlight could even yelp, a glass jar with a colourful label was shoved into her muzzle.

“They are sprinkles, silly!”

They indeed were sprinkles of blue colour, as Starlight could observe, though it took a few moments for her to comprehend that simple fact even with verbal help from Pinkie—she was just too random and quick to follow.

Following the same design of chaos, Pinkie exclaimed, before Starlight was ready for any follow-up, “That reminds me of another thing: you should come with me to Sugarcube Corner!”

Starlight blinked in surprise, completely failing to see any reasoning behind this and ready to object, but she suspected refusing the invitation could actually earn a frown from the party mare; not an achievement to be proud of.

So she uncertainly half-asked half-said in reply, “Okay?”

The next turn of events was another thing Starlight wasn’t prepared for: she began to move with uncomfortable speed.

Starlight was literally dragged into Ponyville’s bakery by hoof. At first, she tried to use the limbs that remained in her control to gallop, only to realize the futility of it and surrendering to the guidance of the pink lightning that zipped through the streets. They reached Sugarcube Corner in what seemed to be an unrealistically short time. Not lingering on that for the sake of sanity, Starlight returned to the important question:

What was she supposed to do here?

A plate with a muffin materializing before her seemingly out of thin air was as good an option as any; judging by how random it was, there could be one source for it.

“Thank you, Pinkie,” Starlight said even before she saw a pink hoof offering the tasty treat to her. Her guess proved to be correct—perhaps, she was beginning to understand the mysterious mare.

“See?” Pinkie grinned in triumph. “I knew you needed it. Muffins can make anypony happy!” She was about to add something else but froze with her mouth half-open, only her ears moving, swivelling until they focused on something Starlight couldn’t perceive.

“So sorry, I gotta run,” she spoke suddenly. “Pound and Pumpkin just woke up and I promised Mrs. Cake I’d help her take care of them.”

With that she bolted up the stairs, leaving Starlight with a pink afterimage.

“Pinkie Pie can be a bit overwhelming at times, isn’t she?” a mildly amused voice asked from behind the counter.

The question caught Starlight off-guard; it took her a few moments to determine who was asking—Mr. Cake. He leaned on the counter, leisurely polishing a glass like a barkeeper, despite Sugarcube Corner serving no alcoholic beverages.

“Oh, yes,” she replied with a chuckle.

Deeming the conversation thankfully over, Starlight prepared to feast on the fresh pastry. She didn’t feel really hungry, but it was hard to say no to Pinkie’s baking in almost any situation.

It fell from her magic grasp when Mr. Cake addressed her again, this time with a more concerning enquiry, though still spoken in a lighthearted tone:

“I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new to Ponyville?”

Albeit it was the first time Starlight was having such a conversation, she could easily predict the unpleasant ways it could go. Yet there was no escape from Mr. Cake’s question, so she hesitantly answered, “Yes.” However, Mr. Cake remained silent, and without looking at her somehow managed to appear expectant by simply proceeding to rub the glass, so she had to add, “I’m, um, staying at the Castle of Friendship.”

“Ah, you must be Starlight Glimmer, then.”

She cringed inwardly—everypony in Ponyville knew about her. The important question was: how much did he know?

Starlight was so consumed with her worries, she almost missed Mr. Cake speaking, though he could have been talking to himself by the sound of it.

“I find it a bit strange, I must say,” he muttered, scratching the stubble on his chin with his fetlock while casually inspecting the shining glass.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how do I put it?” Mr. Cake made a helpless gesture with his hooves. “Twilight is an amazing pony, but she never struck me as somepony who’s passionate about having roommates. I’ve chatted with Spike a few times, and it seems like they can go a week without running into each other, even back when they lived in Golden Oaks.”

Judging by the remains of the famous tree-library in the Castle of Friendship, it was quite a feat, speaking volumes.

Lost in profound thought, Starlight appeared too somber for Mr. Cake.

“Don’t take it personally,” he assured her with a wave of his hoof. “You sound like a nice mare, it just seems a tad unusual to me, that’s all.” Starlight was surprised by Mr.Cake’s next words again, this time in a positive way. “If anything, Twilight is more than capable of change. She was a completely different mare when she first came to Ponyville.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. She used to be so reckless in her studies.” Mr. Cake chortled and then looked around his shop. With no other customers present, he could allow himself to indulge in storytelling. Leaning on the counter, he began, “Just let me tell you about the time when she went crazy over not having sent a letter to Princess Celestia for a week…”