Chapters We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
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…”
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Act 1 Part 2
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“I can’t believe she said that to me,” Twilight muttered to herself as she heavily sat down on the stairs in front of Canterlot’s Library.
The process of checking out the books and getting out of the building became blurred in one solid experience of trying not to cry and acting fast in the case she failed. Yet as Twilight repeated aloud the question echoing in her head all that time, she realized, perhaps, she was… wrong.
Moondancer’s motivation was perfectly fine and understandable; Starlight’s past could indeed raise very fair concerns. However, it wasn’t exactly Moondancer’s fear bothering Twilight so much, nor even the lack of support she received—rather her confusion with Twilight’s reasoning; she shared it, in a sense.
Even if Twilight wrote off Moondancer’s poor choice of words as something completely unintentional, it didn’t remove the question. She hated it, but even more, she hated the answer.
Twilight was focusing on the issue so hard her vision seemed to darken—actually, it was just getting dark outside. It appeared to her she had spent almost the whole day in the library looking for the books (which was far from an uncommon occurrence).
With the sun nearing the horizon, it meant Princess Celestia was about to end her day. Though Twilight hated to take her former mentor’s free time, she desperately craved her soothing company right now. She also wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of flying home at night. Despite her flying abilities improving greatly the last few months, covering the distance between Canterlot and Ponyville in nearly absolute darkness might be a bit beyond her skills.
The tome-laden saddlebags swung in Twilight’s magic and took their place on her withers. Alicorn or not, she couldn’t fly to the Royal Castle directly with so much load, so she let out a heavy sigh and let her hooves carry her there by themselves, following the all too familiar cobblestone paths.
Soon enough Twilight found herself before one of the arched gates leading inside the castle itself. Her approach was completely unhindered by the guards until this moment. She suspected nopony would have questioned her if she walked into the lavish interior without missing a beat, but her pause at the entrance prompted one of the sentinels to speak:
“Your Highness,” the armour-clad stallion addressed Twilight with a low bow.
She couldn’t help but cringe inwardly—she still wasn’t used to such an official treatment. What made it worse was that she could recognize the guard from her fillyhood and was sure he must have remembered her from back then as well.
Her suspiсion was verified when he spoke in an apologetic tone, “I’m sorry, Princess Twilight, if you came looking for Princess Celestia, she retired into her chambers after some especially vexing negotiations and asked not to be bothered unless it is of utmost urgency.”
Even without any dire circumstitions present, Princess Celestia would warmly welcome her—she always did. However, Twilight wished not to exploit her hospitality and chose to give her a well-deserved rest instead.
“Twilight,” an unexpected, though easily recognizable, voice called from behind her, “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, Princess Luna!” Twilight turned to greet her. “Not at all, I was just passing by.”
“You don’t have to call me Princess anymore, we are equals now,” Luna commented in a slightly exasperated tone, knowing very well her wish would be ignored, and continued with a smile, “Anyhow, since my sister is sleeping off that headache the minotaur ambassador gave her and you are here, would you like to join me for my breakfast?”
“It would be my pleasure, Princess Luna,” Twilight replied with a grin on her own, oblivious to the diarch rolling her eyes.
“...And then he claimed because of it, Equestria has to give them the Rainbow Falls. Can you believe that?” Luna nearly shouted, banging the table in indignation with her silver-clad hoof. Shaking her head she added in a much more reserved manner, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tia get so angry at work.”
“I am so sorry to hear that.” Twilight couldn’t help but mirror Luna’s motion and shake her head in a deep discontent. ”I knew the Minotaur Clans can be worse than gryphons when it comes to deals, but that is still ridiculous.”
For a while, they sat in silence as Luna angrily shoved spoon after spoon of oats in her mouth, or maybe she wanted to deal with her meal as soon as possible—it had grown cold.
Twilight sipped her tea, wondering if she would ever have to deal with similar issues.
“But enough of politics.” Luna perked up when she swallowed the last of her bowl’s contents. She took a swig of coffee before continuing, “How’s your student faring so far? I barely had a chance to get a good look at her during the Crystalling. We were a bit busy, after all.”
“I’m glad you asked!” Twilight’s previously moody expression dissolved into a wide smile—at last, there was somepony who appreciated her mentoring endeavour. “She is doing quite well at socializing. You may recall it was the reconciliation with her old friend, Sunburst, which averted the crisis at the Crystal Empire. She’s staying at the Castle of Friendship now, and I am just heading back from the library with a fine selection of books...”
Caught up in praising her pupil, Twilight failed to notice the change of Luna’s expression—the Goddess of the Night frowned, staring at the contents of her cup.
With gusto and a hoof to her puffed out in pride chest Twilight finished, “...I believe she is more than capable of rising from, eh, a ‘former villain’ to a pony who will be remembered if not as a hero, but as an exemplary mare.”
To her disappointment, Luna hesitated with her response.
“Hmm, quite possible. After all, if I were not to believe in reformation, I wouldn’t be here now,” she uttered, her voice full of melancholy, and paused in a fleeting bout of recollection. “However, my concern is not as much about her.”
“Huh?”
“As I said, it is not my place to judge your faith in her. I won't ever forget I was no less a threat for Equestria once, and you always supported me no matter what.” Luna accompanied those words with a grateful bow of her head, yet then she faced Twilight again, her gaze was nothing but stern. “I question only your true goal, not the consideration.”
Twilight momentarily lost the ability to speak, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. She barely held off snapping at Luna when she finally found words. “What kind of ulterior motive could I possibly have in a situation like this?”
Luna’s reply was spoken calmly, but in a patronizing tone:
“You have yet to take any major responsibilities as a princess, and while I admire your enthusiasm, I believe you shouldn’t create problems for yourself to solve where they don’t exist.”
“I don’t–” Twilight tried to give a fair hearing and was interrupted as Luna wasn’t finished.
“Please, don’t take all that as my assumption of your ineptitude, Twilight,” she said kindly, seeing Twilight’s reaction. With a sigh, she went on, “Your title of the Princess of Friendship is earned rightfully so. You don’t need to validate thyself to anypony. While your initial effort in helping Starlight Glimmer is nothing but commendable, I believe turning her into a full-time resident of your castle and offering her a scholarship are excessive measures.”
Twilight’s eyes started to burn and a desire to get out of there as fast as possible welled in her chest; not because she didn’t want to cry before the eyes of a goddess, but because she feared she would yell at Luna instead. Making a scene was the last thing she needed right now—she had had enough of that today.
Thankfully, there was a way to avoid it all.
“I…” she began, her eyes darting around in the search of the object she needed and finally her gaze fell on it.
“Oh my goodness, just look at the time: I am late to my train back to Ponyville!” Twilight cried in not convincing sounding shock. She was past the point of caring. What she was doing was already rude; acting genuinely wasn’t going to change much. “It was a true pleasure to talk with you, Princess Luna, and I am so sorry for leaving in such an abrupt way, but I’ve got to go!”
Twilight was already on her way out of the room when she was speaking the last words. Shutting the door with a bang, she left behind a confused and scowling alicorn.
Spending most of the day listening to Mr. Cake stories about Twilight until the customers finally began to appear en masse improved Starlight’s mood significantly. It was safe to say there was even spring to her steps as she headed to the Castle of Friendship. Learning about Twilight’s misadventures not only let her forget about her worries for a time being but made her somewhat change her view of the entire situation.
Before Starlight had thought of Twilight as some kind of paragon, an infallible example of friendship and all virtues associated with it. Discovering that a path full of mistakes led to that image somehow made it real and more precious instead of tarnishing it.
Twilight was just a pony like her. A pony very like her. It almost seemed they once started from the same place (Twilight hasn’t been stealing cutie marks and practising brainwashing, of course).
Of course, there was a dark side to all what Starlight learned today: how precious the friendships she once sought to destroy were and how long the story behind every one of them was. And while Twilight was more of a pony than a saint in her eyes now, the issue of underserved hospitality still lingered in Starlight’s mind. Yet, with something else to think about, those things couldn’t dominate her thoughts like before.
However, one of the issues raised today couldn’t be ignored. Despite how vast the knowledge Starlight acquired, Ponyville's geography still evaded her. Now, without the sun turning the Castle of Friendship into a shining beacon, it wasn’t that easy to locate it.
Not even knowing which direction to go, Starlight was left with nothing but her luck to rely on.
There was no train Twilight planned to board. Though she still could do it, which was preferable to a night flight and overall a more reasonable option, it wasn’t her mind guiding her when she exited the Royal Castle premises. With a mighty but awkward flap of her wings, she launched herself in the air and, using just as overly energetic movements, began to build the distance between herself and Canterlot as fast as possible.
Only as the ivory towers dissolved into the darkness did Twilight let herself relax a bit and stop trying to outperform Rainbow Dash. Still, when she sighed, the sound coming out of her throat resembled a feral growl.
Moondancer wasn’t as much at fault as it appeared at first—she was genuinely concerned. They also didn’t talk often and that mare tended to be a bit too straightforward, if not outright rude sometimes. So it was fair she jumped to such harsh conclusions.
But Princess Luna?
The worst part was she supported Twilight where Moondancer hadn’t, which somehow made the sting of the accusation burn more. After being told about her ability to rightly dispense judgement, to hear she was self-indulging in procrastination by mentoring and housing Starlight was not far from sounding like a crime of neglecting her actual job.
Combined with Moondancer’s misplaced fears it was like salt on a fresh wound, making Twilight seethe so hard that she had to consciously stop herself from grinding her teeth. Those things became the iceberg’s tip of Twilight’s fury as her subconsciousness built more anger using today's frustration as a foundation.
For all she knew nopony was nagging Fluttershy about her decision to be friends with Discord, nopony came to Princess Celestia asking to throw Nightmare Moon out her castle and she couldn’t recall anypony suggesting a death sentence for Tirek. Yet, in the eyes of everypony , suddenly Twilight was wasting her time as a ruler of nothing by playing in friendship with a criminal.
Not only that, but Starlight was considered equivalent threats—a monster, essentially; no offence meant to Luna and Discord. The Elements of Harmony were never used against her. She needed a different kind of help—the support she was still receiving from Twilight and would need a while longer, with Twilight to decide how long.
That train of thought was dangerously close to the hated answer to Moondancer’s question, which made Twilight’s anger flare, directed at herself now.
In her indignation, Twilight almost failed to notice how from the black of night’s veil the form of a pony materialized a mere length in front of her. Fortunately, the seemingly unavoidable collision was averted by an improvised barrel roll, though they still brushed their feathers in not the softest of ways.
Twilight stopped, hovering in the chill air, and looked back, seeing nopony. Either that pegasus, who Twilight failed to identify in her panic, didn’t care at all about almost crashing into another flier, or they recognized Twilight and were afraid of consequences of almost causing an accident involving a princess. Anyhow, they were gone now.
Broken out of her reverie, Twilight became much more aware of her surroundings and suddenly felt cold, the coolness of the night sky having nothing to do with it. It was very fortunate indeed she was able to perform such an aerial manoeuvre—she was unladen. Her saddlebags were left at the Royal Palace!
There was no point in going back to Canterlot right now. However, it had to happen eventually, which meant a few things for Twilight: she had to waste at least half of a day for the future trip and there was a chance to run into Princess Luna.
Becoming incredibly frustrated was the only thing she had achieved today.
Coming to those conclusions, she growled into the silent sky in a flash of anger. At least, when she squinted at the ground, she realized that Ponyville was basically below her, meaning she soon could get home and put this hell of a day behind her.
Latching on that thought, she dove from the cloud cover to the silhouette of her castle, gleaming with distant stars.
By the time Twilight landed on the roof of the castle, everything transpired with her today caught up with her body. Her eyelids began to droop as soon as she entered the top floor and her hooves suddenly grew very heavy as they sensed the familiar warmth of home. So it took her a few moments before she realized it wasn't a peculiar refraction of the light on the surface of the crystal floor, but a light spilling out of a door ajar on the way to her room.
Wondering about who could be staying up so late, Twilight opened the door and was met with a sight of Spike lounging on a bean bag with a comic in his claws. Not only was it something not supposed to be happening—instead of acting like he was caught, Spike just calmly looked over the pages of his book. Needless to say, it served like a bucket of oil splashed into a fire.
“Spike!” she barked, a mask of rage contorting her features. “Why. Aren’t. You. In. Your. Bed!?”
To Twilight’s growing fury, he licked his claws to flip the page first.
“I’m reading before my sleep, just as you let me.”
“It is…” Twilight faltered momentarily and looked around, but failed to see any clock nearby. It didn’t matter, she could tell it was very late, anyway. “It is the dead of the night! And don’t you dare pretend you didn’t know!”
“It is one hour past midnight, yeah,” Spike replied to her, still unfazed. “But I only started reading ten minutes ago. It’s not my fault I finished my chores so late. If anything, I think I deserve some rest after doing somepony else’s job, too.”
With that, he returned his attention to the comic book, though it lasted until Twilight grabbed it out his claws with magic and threw it on the floor.
“What do you mean ‘not your fault’ and ‘somepony else’s job’?” she then yelled at him. “Who else?”
Spike glared at Twilight and hopped out from the chair to cross his arms on his chest and continue to glare at her.
“Well,” he grumbled, “I finished everything on time as I planned, but then I found out the room with cleaning supplies looked like Discord was there.”
“I’m sure Discord has nothing to do with it,” Twilight acidly commented through clenched teeth.
Spike rolled his eyes.
“Of course he doesn't.”
Twilight slowly approached him, and, her eyes blazing with wrath, towered over the young dragon who stubbornly refused to look daunted. “Then what’s the matter, Spike?”
“Maybe you should ask your student that,” he quipped back, raising his brow.
“Maybe you should stop blaming others and take responsibility for yourself!”
Spike stepped back, but quickly regained his composure and barked back, pointing his claw at Twilight, “Hey, I am not lying, okay?” For the first time since this fight began, she doubted her righteousness. “Have you even seen Starlight? She wanders around the castle unable to find anything to do all day while looking like somepony died. I can live with that, but making a random mess and walking away is a bit too much, don’t you think?”
Somehow Twilight knew Spike was telling the truth indeed—he wouldn’t act the way he did if it wasn’t so. However, it helped the situation none, since the anger had to go somewhere.
“Argh!” She growled, storming a few steps away in frustration. “Everypony keeps and keeps complaining about Starlight. I’m so tired of it!” Funnelling her frustration at nobody in particular helped her a bit and then realized she was quite unfair to Spike. Still hoarse from her howl, she hastily added, addressing him, “I’ll talk with her tomorrow.”
Spike didn’t move, his lips pressed together tightly, continuing to glower at Twilight. She let out a deep sigh and heavily sat down on the floor as wrath began to abate, letting shame and weariness take place, and whispered hollowly, “Just… go to bed, please.”
At the doors did he finally speak, in a surprisingly sympathetic voice, “Good night, Twilight.”
Twilight winced hard at his intonation and croaked, “I’m sorry, Spike, it’s been a hard day. Good night.”
Her eyes fell on a comic book she threw on the floor in her tantrum.
“Spike?”
He didn’t reply to her, though the lack of sound meant he at least stopped to listen. Not looking Spike in the eyes she passed the colourful book to him with her magic.
“You deserve to read it for a bit, but not too long. Okay?”
To Starlight’s utter dismay, Fortuna turned away from her when she stepped onto the dark streets. Being already slightly chaotic by its countryside nature, Ponyville turned into an elaborate maze by night. On the positive side, the frustration of being lost left no room for more depressive thoughts, but it was a silver lining too thin to appreciate.
It felt like the whole night passed by the time the imposing black bulk of the castle finally rose from the ground before Stalight’s weary form. She even contemplated not bothering to go to her room and spending the night on the carpet right after the entrance.
Starlight made an effort to wipe her hooves before heading to her room. Trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Spike, she was moving across the halls when she heard noises too loud for the late time. Worried about their origin, she begrudgingly took a detour.
Surprisingly, it sounded like Twilight was angrily shouting at somepony, though Starlight couldn't decipher any words. Driven rather by curiosity than concern, she approached the slightly opened door only to hear Twilight growl in fury:
“Everypony keeps and keeps complaining about Starlight. I’m so tired of it!” she spat and then added in a weary and still discontent tone, “I’ll talk with her tomorrow.”
Starlight felt the floor sway under her hooves, and she had to lean on the nearest wall to prevent herself from falling. However, she recovered quickly and, still wishing to remain unheard, trotted away as fast as she could, leaving in her wake a trail of tears she was unable to hold.
When her hooves finally carried her out of the castle did she give some freedom to her emotions, still not loud enough to wake everypony with her wails.
Shuddering and sniffling, Starlight sat in front of the castle’s entrance, right in the middle of an empty road, letting two waterfalls dew the ground with sorrow and salt.
She had a chance, a once in a lifetime gift and she blew that opportunity away. No matter how nice and patient her mentor was, there were limits to everything—she was a pony, after all. And the more Starlight thought of it, the worse it seemed: she imposed herself on Twilight, made her friends confront her, probably tarnished her reputation in Ponyville and beyond…
Starlight stomped hard in her anger, digging her hooves into the firm soil and instantly grimaced when pain shot back to her shoulders. She struck again and again until her front limbs felt numb.
The pain stayed, an ache deep inside her.
Defeated and broken, she looked behind herself, at Twilight’s home, and realized she couldn’t force herself to make even a single step closer to it; yet, she was about to fall dead asleep where she stood. Left with not much choice, she limped to a bench not far away and climbed onto it, tears still freely flowing down her face.
Albeit it made little difference to what she could see, Starlight closed her eyes and curled against the night’s cold, nursing sore hooves close to her aching heart. She was pretty sure the few remaining hours before the dawn would be spent in that living nightmare, but her frazzled body had other plans.
After such a long day Twilight expected herself to fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow, yet as she lay in her bed, minutes passed by and she just kept staring at the ceiling, growing more and more agitated.
The reason for that wasn’t only in the well-needed rest alluding her. The recent conversations played in her mind like a broken record, a bit differently each time as she was coming with new retorts.
Tired of being alone with her thoughts and darkness, Twilight got out of her bed with a groan and turned on the lights. It revealed she was mistaken: there was one more companion to her bout of insomnia.
“Who?” Owlowiscious cheerfully greeted his master from the roost.
Twilight couldn’t remember her pet owl being in the room when she went to sleep; though that certainly wasn't the first time she failed to notice him coming or leaving. Nevertheless, she was more than glad for the presence of her loyal nocturnal companion.
“Hi there…” The rest of her words, whatever they could be, became an incomprehensible coo as she ruffled Owlowiscious’ feathers.
For a few seconds, Owlowiscious allowed himself to indulge in Twilight’s affection, then soared to the ceiling, circled the room and perched himself high on a bookshelf. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.
The moment of bonding was a bit too short for Twilight’s taste; it was still a breath of fresh air after the long day.
With a sigh, she commented, “Well, at least I know you won’t berate me for letting Starlight live with me.”
The seemingly positive fact was instantly poisoned by the dark whisper of reason in Twilight's mind. “Sure, the owl won’t say anything. He is an owl, for Celestia’s sake .And he can still hate Starlight like any other.”
“Who?”
“Oh, you know that poor unicorn everypony keeps hating for no reason,” Twilight muttered in a sarcastically joyous tone as she decided to play along with the owl’s trademark conversation pattern.
Actually, there was a reason… Starlight did try to do some quite sinister things, which was hard to forget. Yet, each time she remembered Starlight's face, the expression of pure emotions written all over it, she couldn’t help but think that under no circumstances she would have been able to decline her remorse.
In her distraught state Twilight failed to notice that she had started to speak aloud, “Why can’t the others see it?”
“Who?” This time the hoot sounded like a genuine question, sympathetic even.
“Moondancer, Princess Luna, Spike…” Frowning, Twilight slumped on the floor and leaned on the bed hoofboard. “Perhaps, all of my other friends as well.”
For whatever his internal reasons were, Owlowiscious fell silent and simply regarded Twilight with his unblinking wide eyes. That effectively killed the conversation they were having (if she was fair with herself, it was already quite one-sided, to begin with) and once again Twilight started to hear her thoughts.
“Are you trying to prove something, or… ”
“Nothing,” Twilight said aloud, practically barking.
Teaching Starlight was an act of selfless support, caring about her because she needed care; after all, Twilight was supposed to be an examp–
She just wanted to help Starlight, that was all. To make that mare feel happy and find her place in life after the unpleasant events of her past. Yet Twilight couldn’t ignore not only it sounding fake even in her head—she had also failed. According to Spike, Starlight wasn’t content with her life in the castle. It was more concerning to Twilight than any other issue; she couldn’t do anything about it in the middle of the night, however.
It made Twilight realize she wasn’t likely to get any sleep this night, despite how tired her body felt—her worries just wouldn’t let her drift to Luna’s realm. Remembering that not so little detail cemented Twilight’s resolve to forgo rest—the longer she could avoid meeting her, the better.
With the warmth of blankets and pillows refused, there weren’t many places left to spend the night hours. Thankfully, one place would always welcome her with familiar comfort.
The lights in Twilight’s room went out when she left for the library, Owlowiscious quietly following his master like a shadow.
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Act 1 Part 3
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It was hard to say what woke Starlight from her troubled sleep.
It could have been the morning song of birds coming from the tree looming above the bench she reluctantly chose to serve as her bed. Or it could be the wood itself, which proved to be as far as possible from being comfortable for night’s rest. Narrow, rigid and frigid, it made Starlight’s body ache more and ended up not restoring her energy but sapping from its already deplenished pool.
A heavy head groggily turned to the horizon to observe a crack of dawn through half-lidded eyes. Even in her barely awakened state Starlight understood the futility of returning to sleep, yet her entire being demanded that she not leave the wooden seat.
She did the opposite and slid from the bench, nearly falling when her tired hooves refused to obey.
Actually, she was happy her awakening took place so early, while most of the ponies were still asleep. It wouldn't do to be seen sleeping on the street right outside Twilight’s castle like a homeless pony.
Speaking of which, it’s crystal bulk towered over her, reminding of the last night.
More than anything Starlight wanted to just walk away from it, to travel to some faraway corner of Equestria and start a new life. It wouldn’t be a new experience for her. This time it wouldn’t include enslaving anypony.
For a few moments it sounded like a solid plan and she almost picked a random direction to go, happy again it was early enough, so nopony would stop her and ask questions.
It was the last part making her pause and think.
Firstly, there was a chance ponies would look for her. Not out of concern for her well-being (though Twilight still could), but because she technically was a criminal on a probation period, so to say.
Secondly, it was just rude to leave without explaining anything, no matter how much she wanted to avoid it.
She had to speak to Twilight if she had any respect for that mare and any respect for herself. Albeit it was a perfect time to leave Ponyville, it was far from perfect to talk to anypony, especially Twilight, who had arrived home late at night yesterday.
So, with her head hanging low, ears drooped, Starlight shambled around the castle and sat by its foundation on the opposite to the entrance side, basking in the warming rays of the rising sun.
Her mind was numb from the events preceding her short sleep and from the length of the said rest, leaving her melancholically observing the nature of Ponyville’s countryside slowly waking up.
Suddenly, she was as if struck by lightning: a conflicting mess of sensations paralyzed her body when she deeply inhaled the crispy morning air. From one of the castle windows a rivulet of the most beautiful scent trickled down to her nostrils—the aroma of freshly baked pancakes.
The sweetness of the smell quickly became bitter, however. It meant Starlight had to confront Twilight about her abrupt departure. Also, it reminded her about the last time she ate, which was too long ago. To make it worse, she had a suspicion participating in the breakfast wouldn’t be an option for her. With a great effort, Starlight rose to her hooves and, steeling herself, headed inside the castle.
She stubbornly looked at the ground until it changed into crystal panes, then kept her eyes down, despite a reflection staring back at her miserably. There was no sense in looking elsewhere—she wouldn’t be able to hide from herself in the castle.
Spike was sitting at the table, munching at the pancakes with Twilight nowhere to be seen. Either not noticing Starlight dishevelled appearance or just disregarding it, he greeted her in a carefully neutral voice:
“Good morning.”
Starlight’s sleep-deprived mind was still trying to comprehend the fact Twilight wasn’t having breakfast and enough time passed to make the situation awkward. Failing to come to any somewhat elegant solution, she cut straight to the chase.
“Where is she?”
Spike regarded her for a few moments with a nonplussed gaze and grumbled, “Good morning to you too, Spike.” Then he put a piece of a pancake in his mouth and spoke as he chewed, “She ish shtill shleepin’.”
That bit of information helped Starlight none, pushing her brain back to a state of a complete lock.
Nothing changed by the time Spike finished eating the contents of his plate and moved it to the side while pulling a cup closer, all that time keeping his eyes locked on the mare standing in the doorway frozen like a statue, staring into nothingness with ears pressed back.
Only after Spike took a couple of sips, he finally broke the silence.
“You know,” he slowly said, “she wanted to talk with you.”
Though Starlight heard him clearly, she neither moved nor made any other indication. She knew exactly what Twilight wanted to talk with her about. The question was if she should admit eavesdropping or not. Deciding she couldn’t make it worse than it already was, she squeezed out of herself, barely holding back tears, “She wants me t-to leave.”
“What?” Spike reacted with a grimace and added, bewildered, “No one wants you to leave!”
“What, even you?” Starlight bitterly muttered without thinking and clamped her hooves over her mouth, looking at Spike in horror.
Spike gave her a long look full of disappointment but said nothing. Then he diverted his attention to his coffee. His expression hardened and his eyes widened as if he saw something horrible in the dark depths of his beverage.
“I almost died back then,” Spike said quietly, nearly a whisper.
Starlight rushed to him from the door, falling to her knees, “Spike, I am so sorry! Please–”
The dragon didn’t let her finish, raising his claws in the air.
“I never…” he began, then corrected himself with a mirthless chuckle, “Alright, I was pretty cross at you at first.” He let out a sigh. “I’ve forgiven you because Twilight believes in you and you’re important to her.”
Starlight, who was half-sprawled on the floor, moved to take a standing position while intently listening to Spike with her eyes wide and ears perked.
“But…” Spike trailed off and Starlight tensed up. “I am not going to tolerate you moping around. You’re lucky Twilight has been away a lot lately and didn’t see you looking like the world is ending. If she did, she’d go mad with worry and I don’t want that to happen.”
“I…” Starlight hiccuped. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t see with her head hung in shame, Spike gave her a sympathetic glance.
“Listen, I don’t know what your deal is—if there are any problems then talk with Twilight.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear, you’re as bad as she is.”
“I actually think I should just leave,” Starlight muttered and sniffed, trying not to start crying again.
“Ugh…” Spike’s hold on his nose tightened and he shook his head, grimacing. “You do realize that will break her heart?”
Starlight winced.
“But everypony complains to her about me…” she weakly retorted.
Spike threw his arms up in frustration.
“So what? They know you for who you were, not for who you are. Everyone will come around, Starlight. After all, I forgave you, though you almost got me done.”
Starlight timidly smiled.
“Thank you, Spike.”
She moved to accentuate her words with a friendly hug but meeting his hard gaze stopped. However, Spike seemed to appreciate her attempt and his expression softened.
“If you really want to thank me, do what I told you.” He pointed at the sink. “Start with washing your face. You look horrible, it is not what Twilight needs to see when she comes down for breakfast.”
After slowly creeping across the library for long minutes, the blinding ray of the sun finally reached a figure sleeping in a sitting position at the table. The golden wave warmly caressed her cheek, swiftly traced the lips drooling on the book-pillow. Like an ethereal comb, the luminescent claws sneaked into a dishevelled mane and then at last reached for the swollen eyes, harmlessly piercing the skin with their blinding radiance.
Twilight squinted and mumbled in her disturbed sleep, trying to shy away from the sun’s unblinking gaze; it proved futile, making her realize how uncomfortable she was. Surrendering to her fate she opened her eyes and instantly closed them with a hiss as a single blink was enough for the fire to be poured into them in full.
Intelligibly grumbling under her breath, Twilight forced herself to tear her head from her improvised pillow to discover a parchment covered in smudged scribbles clinging to her cheek.
She picked it off with her magic, stared at the text trying to decipher at least some of its contents and failed completely. Then the gaze of her red and shadowed eyes moved to the other notes chaotically covering the table. Although they were more or less intact, the words and letters blurred in Twilight’s eyes; combined with a throbbing headache, it made them completely incomprehensible.
The worst thing was, Twilight couldn’t recall what instigated her to start working on any project in the middle of the night. She kept recalling memory after memory until it was as if she pulled a thread of a bag only for its contents to spill into her face to reveal themselves bricks.
All the events of the previous day instantly became fresh in her mind. The emotions brought along were stale, yet still quite unpleasant, readily adding to the aching of her exhausted body and splitting headache.
Unfortunately, in her years of studying magic Twilight never managed to find a spell to cure her predicament. However, there was a potion of sorts which could help her to alleviate the hardships of a new day and she luckily would be able to find a steaming cup of that magical dark liquid in the kitchen.
It took more than just a few moments at the kitchen’s sink for Starlight to make herself at least somewhat presentable. Some magic became involved to deal with mane and coat which looked exactly like she slept at some bench in the park.
Spike, despite suspiciously observing her haphazard attempts to hide the aftermath of the obviously unusual night, said nothing. As soon as Starlight stepped away from the sink he used it to wash his dishes and dry them.
By the time she finally was done with her appearance, the plate and cup were returned to the table, though not empty—a breakfast was awaiting her. The sight of glistening with melted butter pancakes and the steam coming off a cup full of pitch-black coffee was what made her hurry up.
Starlight threw herself on her breakfast and began to hungrily devour it, barely chewing and keeping burning her mouth while Spike watched her in indecision what to feel: pride for his cooking appreciated or awkwardness for the display.
Anyhow, both his hesitation and Starlight’s gusto were gone when their company was joined by none other by the Princess of Friendship herself. Spike shot Starlight, who froze mid-bite, a cautious glance, though kept silent. He didn’t have the chance anyway, as it was Twilight who broke the tension she wasn’t aware of.
“Morning, Starlight, Spike,” she croaked, not paying attention to anything but Starlight’s cup. I took her some time to register it wasn’t empty and then she added, “Ugh, Spike, can you make the coffee stronger than usual, my head is splitting in a half.”
“Sure, but maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up all night, instead.”
“I didn’t stay up all night.” She then grabbed a pancake from the counter with her magic and promptly stuffed it into her mouth.
Only now she realized she was starving. The tea she had at Canterlot was of the best quality in Equestria, yet that didn’t make it a good substitute for a meal, sadly.
Vigorously chewing the pancake she continued to justify her unplanned all-nighter, “And I was doing research.”
“What were you studying?” Spike asked her, feeding more and more spoons of coffee to the machine.
With a flick of his claw, the crystal inside of it came to life and soon the kitchen was filled with the aroma of roasted coffee beans and the gurgle of boiling water.
A bite of food was something Twilight desperately needed, however, it refused to do any favours to her memory, so she had no choice but to quietly say in shame, “I… I don’t remember.”
Upon hearing her words Spike guffawed.
“Stop laughing!” Twilight barked and immediately regretted it, clutching her head in her hooves. In a much softer voice, she added, “I made notes, I just haven’t checked them yet.”
Another pancake was levitated into the air, then froze midway to Twilight, who frowned and shook her head. It changed its course and soon landed on an empty plate to soon be joined by its brethren when Twilight generously took the rest of the stack. Her dubious look travelled from the now empty plate to the one she took for herself and just filled. She continued to stare, then rolled her eyes and went to the table, inadvertently taking a place opposite to Starlight, not noticing how tense she was.
Since her teacher appeared in the doorway, Starlight lost any appetite and could only stare at the table, her insides churning from acute anxiety. Only after Twilight was half-way through her breakfast did she gather enough courage to speak.
“You…” Starlight gulped. “S-spike told me you wanted to speak to me.”
“Umm,” Twilight hummed in confusion. Then she remembered why she needed to talk with Starlight and froze, staring into nothing. “Yes,” she continued awkwardly and slowly.
Right this moment, learning from Starlight she was unhappy to stay at the castle was the last thing she wanted to discuss. She didn’t ever want to hear she was a bad host, or even worse—mentor.
However, with Starlight raising that issue, it had to be addressed, so she finally asked, hesitantly moving her pancakes to the side, “Does anypony give you trouble?”
“No,” Starlight’s answer was instant. Unnoticed by Twilight, Spike poked her under the ribs with his claw. Rubbing her violated side with the hoof she quietly said, still avoiding eye contact, “After everything I’ve done, who can blame them…”
Spike slapped his forehead.
Twilight couldn’t help but let out a sigh, longingly looking at her growing cold breakfast.
“Starlight, stop,” Twilight said wearily. “Your past is behind you, you should learn from it, but not dwell.” She tried to meet her student’s eyes, but Starlight kept dejectedly looking with the ears pressed to her skull at the half of the pancake at her plate as her life depended on it.
Suppressing another sigh, Twilight called, “Starlight. Look at me.”
Blue eyes didn’t meet the purple ones, as the seconds passed in strained silence. Twilight had to suppress another sigh coming, deciding instead to continue her speech:
“Whatever you have done… tried to do... can’t be undone, that is true,” –Starlight jerked as if Spike poked her again– “There is another truth—I can see you not only capable of change but striving to. For me, you will never be a lost mare who has done some bad things, but a wonderful mare I look forward to knowing more about.”
Starlight looked at Twilight with wide eyes, but her mentor was too distracted with her thoughts to notice and meet the bewildered gaze she was being given. However, when Twilight finally looked at Starlight, the latter turned her head to the table once again. Twilight took at as a sign of her words not being placating enough, so she went on:
“If anypony in particular harasses you, please report this to me—I’m always on your side, no matter what. Other than that… I am afraid you will have to give them time. The ponies in Ponyville can be suspicious at first, but as they get to know you better, you will be friends with the entire town in no time.”
More out of the desire to show Twilight there is nothing to worry about, rather than out of pride or anything else, Starlight spoke in a small voice, “I spoke with Mr. Cake yesterday. He seems to be a very nice stallion and I think he liked me as well.”
“See? I’m sure you will become an example of friendship sooner than you realize.” Twilight smiled in encouragement.
Her expression held up for only a few moments until a monstrous yawn contorted her features. Although she managed to cover it with her wing, a blush settled on her cheeks.
“Maybe you’re right, Spike—I can’t neglect my sleep schedule anymore like that. I am a princess, after all.”
“You shouldn’t have been doing that when you weren't a princess either,” he shot to her as he was gathering the plates from the table.
“I am going to try and make sense of what I was researching last night,” Twilight said, picking with magic her cup and plate. “So, if you need me for anything, I’ll be in the library.”
Spike chuckled at Twilight’s predicament again. “As if she hangs around anywhere else.”
The remark fell on deaf ears, as Twilight was already gone and Starlight was too deep in her rumination.
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
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 2 Part 1
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A distinctive soft sound marked the moment Twilight fell into the gentle embrace of her bed cover, muzzle first. A muffled groan followed her landing like an echo.
There were so many things to be frustrated about the last two days, piling onto each other to the point she couldn’t decide which of them was the worst. At least now it was over and the losses could be finally taken account of, stinging wounds—licked.
By the time Twilight returned from Trixie’s show, everypony had left her castle, even though she hurried back as fast as she could. Obviously, Cranky, Ditzy and Vinyl bothered her not too much; they weren’t likely to even care. After all, they left with bellies full of food worthy of royal taste buds. Princess Celestia, on the other hoof… even the cake remained untouched.
Her former mentor must have gone to great lengths to free half a day. Although nothing pointed at that, Twilight was absolutely sure Luna stood behind it; the goal of Celestia’s visit couldn’t be a coincidence—checking on Starlight’s success in learning the ways of friendship. In any case, it was a complete failure.
So now two of five princesses must be having doubts about what their colleague was doing with her life and taxpayers’ money. Out of two alicorns left one being an infant helped none.
Twilight rolled on her back and shot the ceiling a baleful glare.
Why did that mare have to return to Ponyville this week out of all times?
Almost too late Twilight was able to catch herself—her fuming about Trixie’s road tour happening in the least felicitous moment had nothing to do with the showmare herself. She still was a huge jerk, but she did nothing wrong, well, not really . No matter how convenient and pleasant the opposite would be, the only mare Twilight could blame for ruining the day was none other than herself.
When all comes to all, she had let her jealousy stand in a way of Starlight’s happiness.
An unpleasant revelation crossed her mind—Luna accused her of playing babysitter with Starlight, where in truth Twilight was nothing but a prison warden to her student.
A pillow was unceremoniously grabbed by magic to deafen another frustrated scream. Caught up in her self-indulgence, Twilight realized she was observed only when her eyes met the ones intently looking at her—Owlowiscious’.
“Don’t judge me.” She shot him a glare and turned away, the pillow tightly clutched to her heaving chest.
Owlowiscious continued to silently judge Twilight, the unblinking gaze boring into her back. She felt a sudden urge to hurl something at her pet, instantly followed by a sharp pang of shame.
That couldn’t keep going on forever—the longer she remained mad, the higher the chance she would snap at somepony or someone. Spike had already fallen victim to her anger weeks ago and something like was bound to happen again judging by the signs.
If Twilight had learned anything, it was sometimes she had to ask for help, lest her thoughts would continue to bore the rut in her mind.
With a heavy heart—and heavy hooves—Twilight rolled out of the warm bed, trotting to the open door, letting the cool breeze dug its bold tendrils under her mane and feathers—something unwelcome yet needed.
As she presented herself to the moon and stars, her breath became mixed with the spirit of approaching winter, quickly dissipating in the near darkness. Though still months away from fully embracing the world into its hoary blankets, the coldest of the seasons was heralding its advent already.
The serenity didn’t last long as the wind carried the sounds of the party and the scent of burned powder. Momentarily, the dusk died in a brilliant polychromatic flash of a thunderous firework, followed by exuberant cries.
Fun and wild the celebration was, with its attendants numerous as ever, there were bound to be those who gave it a wide berth. One of such cool-headed ponies was exactly who the Princess of Friendship was looking for.
Taking a deep breath, she launched herself into the chilly night air.
The pegasus magic in Twilight’s wings fought back gravity for a few long heartbeats and when the battle was lost, she aimed her fall towards the Carousel Boutique.
The closer ground was growing to Twilight, the less stalwart her resolve became.
While she had a lot on her mind, a sudden realization dawned on her—she had no idea about what in particular the conversation with Rarity would be about. Not to mention she just remembered none of her friends had very high opinions about Starlight. Although the seamstress had shown no clear indication neither of hostility, nor approval, it could only be her reserved, ladylike manners.
By the time Twilight’s hoof softly tapped the ornate door, the last ounce of her determination evaporated away and regret followed by a burning desire to return home began to creep into her mind.
The silence lasted not long enough for Twilight’s indecision to bore fruits. The door opened with a trademark silver chime and Rarity met her, widely beaming.
“Twilight! What an unexpected visit!”
Latching on to her words to turn the situation around, Twilight awkwardly mumbled, preparing to leave, “Oh, sorry Rarity, I didn’t know you were busy…”
“Nonsense.” Rarity dismissed her words with a wave of the alabaster hoof. “Darling, I am never busy enough to turn down a friend in need.” Then, leaving Twilight not much choice, she unceremoniously tugged on her with magic. “Now, stop letting cold into my studio and do come in already!”
As suspected, Twilight had caught Rarity in the middle of work—spools of fabric were dragged out of their home on the shelves and chaotically strewn all around the studio, accompanied by rough sketches and various tools.
Rarity instantly rushed to her ‘artistic mess’, trying to make it look somewhat presentable. Twilight awkwardly stood and watched, trying to find words and miserably failing. It lasted for a full minute until the seamstress was the first to break the silence, no later than she finally realized the futility of her ministrations.
“Ahem, sorry about that.” She turned to Twilight and politely coughed in her hoof, sheepishly smiling. “So, what brings you into my boutique?” Her eyes lit up. “Do you want a new dress? Your student came by just a day ago.”
Twilight’s face twitched at the mention of Starlight, yet Rarity seemed to not notice. She let out a deep sigh—if only it was that simple. In fact, she could just ask her to make a dress and head out, but it felt petty to pile more work on her friend just because she couldn’t build up the courage to speak.
“Not exactly.” Twilight gulped. She was met with a somewhat disappointed look and promptly apologized, “Sorry, Rarity.”
“It is alright,” –she let out a sigh on her own– “though I hope Starlight returns to my boutique one day, she has quite a distinguished stature for a unicorn. I presume being an active part of a growing, eh, ‘community’ gave her a lot of opportunities to exercise…” She then turned away from Twilight, distracted by a spool of ribbon falling to the floor, riotously rolling across it, and kept talking, “Forgive me, dear, I am rambling. What was it?”
“I wanted to talk…” Twilight’s words trailed off as the newfound resolve appeared to be quite short-lived, albeit for a reason different from any of the prior. Following Rarity’s commentary, on its own volition, her mind started to conjure the images of defined, but not excessive, muscles of lithe limbs and body, rolling under a shining pale fuschia coat…
Her thoughts came to a complete halt when she realized what she was thinking about.
Rarity turned back only to witness a red face.
“Talk about wha–" She gasped in surprise, her muzzle forming a mischievous grin not a moment later, and gushed, “Twilight! Is it what I think it is? Please, do tell all the details immediately!”
What?
No!
Twilight tried to come with some kind of response to explain herself, but any attempts died on her lips, turning into incomprehensible sounds, her mind overwhelmed by the sheer ridicule and irony of the situation. Ultimately, it decided to go into a state of panic. Her body instinctively jerked away, eyes looking for a way to escape the unpleasant situation.
Seeing her friend’s vivid reaction, Rarity culled her enthusiasm.
“I’m sorry!” she yelled, then reassured Twilight in a soothing tone, “I won’t be pressing you into talking.”
It took Twilight a few seconds to still herself and offer an excuse of her own, “It is alright, Rarity. I just had a few rough days.”
She let out a sigh, deep and long, as if proving her words. Hastily, she added, “And it is not what it’s about.” She almost wished the opposite was true—a romance seemed more appealing than her current predicament.
However, the initially amusing thought was followed by a new wave of panic.
A relationship with her student ?
Twilight couldn’t imagine a worse disaster—she was already treading on thin ice. Her face, red as a beetroot, became deathly pale under the standing on its ends mottled lavender fur.
As an expression of horror began to settle on Twilight’s face, a mien of comprehension overtook Rarity’s features, and, cautiously approaching, she softly said, “I’m more than willing to lend my ear, darling.”
Twilight, her head hanging low, became a prisoner of her indecision once again, searching for words, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she finally uttered:
“I gave it a lot of thought lately.” The words were as quiet as a rustle of leaves on a breeze; they still rang loud in the anticipating silence of the boutique. “I don’t think I’m fit for a teaching role.”
Her admission was met by another overly dramatic gasp.
“What a ridiculous notion, dear! What in the world made you come to such a conclusion?” With each syllable, Rarity sounded more hysterical, yet before it reached a crescendo, her demeanour changed all of a sudden. “Where are my manners? That is not a thing to discuss in the middle of a room.”
She tugged on her guest with magic again, heading for the kitchen, but this time Twilight resisted with the aim of her own—the door. She couldn’t make a single step—with a cat-like dexterity Rarity circled her and very ungracefully butted her friend, pushing her forward with a nonnegotiable fervour.
“Late it may be, it’s never behind time for a cup of tea.”
It took mere moments for the practiced motions to result in a pair of porcelain cups appearing on the table, steaming, a plate with forlorn biscuits resting inbetwixt them. While Rarity’s cup was a spot of reddish blackness amidst the pristine kitchen, Twilight’s filled the air with the mellow and summerish aroma of chamomile.
The seamstress waited a full minute, waiting for their beverages to cool a bit, observing Twilight sullenly staring at her reflection, still reluctant to explain herself.
“I will ask you again, Twilight, what made you think of such a preposterous thing?”
It was Twilight’s muzzle that gave away the answer, contorting into a web of wrinkles. To some degree, the admission of her inadequacy came as much as a surprise to her as it was for her host—unlike Rarity she knew it wasn’t an issue itself, but merely a symptom of a bigger problem.
The frown didn’t leave her features then Twilight finally lamented, “Remembering how Princess Celestia taught me, I can’t help but feel myself falling far short of her.” She shook her head, her brow furrowing deeper and a hint of scorn crept into her voice. “And then I get an earful from Princess Luna…”
With a white hoof rising from the table in protest, starting to interrupt even as her words trailed off by themselves. When Twilight tore her eyes from the cup at the motion in a periphery of her vision, she was met by a stern, almost angry expression.
“I have to stop you right there, darling. Setting a bar as high as the skill of a goddess with millennia to hone her ability is nothing but admirable.” She let those words hang in the air, her withering look speaking the rest for itself.
“And while Princess Luna does rightfully deserve her title by many accounts,” –her eyes glazed for a brief moment and a faint blush touched her cheeks– “I wouldn’t take her words to heart—she is still a bit stuck in customs long gone, however genuine her intentions might be.”
Despite how fair and sound Rarity’s response was, it did nothing to dispel the concern having uncontested reign on Twilight’s face, redoubling as she ruminated on it.
Taking a sip of herbal tea as if its taste and fragrance could alone soothe her nerves, she came up with her own retort, choosing words carefully:
“I’m not entirely sure Luna’s accusations have anything to do with how outdated her experiences are.” She noticed a glimpse of confusion in Rarity’s eyes, a question unvoiced. A question purposefully ignored. “As for the bar…” she continued solemnly, “perhaps you’re right, but even if I were to lower it, I am still failing miserably.”
There was a moment of indecision before Rarity raised the objection and when it happened, the first few words were spoken in a tone not as supportive as the rest, as if it was meant to be something else.
“I thought your lessons with Starlight went splendidly. At least the Crystalling gave a definitely positive impression.”
Stressful as that day was, it still counted as a bright one, reflecting on Twilight’s face, only for the light to fade into gloom when the grim reality pushed away those memories.
A cup was raised for a sip, yet it never reached her lilac lips, instead landing back almost forcefully, a few drops of the brew marring the pristine tablecloth.
“She isn’t happy with her stay.” Noticing the mess she made, Twilight reached for a napkin, and it fell out of her magic as it faltered just like her voice, “I’m either a terrible host or just as bad a tutor.” The last words she had to squeeze out of herself and they came barely a whisper, “Judging from what I am kept being told, I am sure it is the latter.”
Rarity didn’t answer outright, not that it was expected—her guest had withdrawn into herself, the warm cup clutched tight in her hooves as if it could serve as a bulwark against chilling thoughts.
Taking the fallen napkin in her magic, she dabbed at the spilt herbal tea, giving Twilight a long look, her lips pressed together.
“I see,” she finally said.
Before approaching the subject, Rarity made full use of the pause in the conversation to nearly empty her cup, crinkling her nose as the bitter and hot beverage flowed down her throat. She also had to gather her thoughts; now when she understood what it was about, she must be especially careful with her words in dealing with a matter that delicate.
“Twilight.” The mare in question perked up as she was addressed; however, it was more out of the silence suddenly broken, rather than out of recognition of her name. Clearing her throat, Rarity asked, “How do you think Starlight’s doing in her study of friendship her happiness and the opinion of others not taken into account? Based only on how much she has learned and grown.”
It took Twilight a few moments to redirect her mind to that inquiry. Her furrowing was the initial response—this time it was confusion to blame.
“You can’t put it like that,” she began pensively; then she spoke further, her voice growing more confident, even if sounding more than a bit lecturing, “Friendship isn’t like any other science, if a conventional science at all, and it can’t be measured; the lessons I’ve been learning myself were but a way to summarize experiences which are beyond any kind of evaluation. A mental state is an important part of an experience as everything else, so I can’t abstract from Starlight feeling miserable.”
“It is hard to disagree with you here, darling.” Rarity couldn’t help but smile at her success and she pressed on, “However, I should object—not every valuable experience in regards to relationships is bound to be a happy one—I am sure you can recall having such cases yourself.”
Reflections of the past flashed in her purple eyes, the memories of the scrolls sent to the Sun in an emerald blaze, the small griefs sometimes being part of the price for the lessons learned, though all worth it without a trace of doubt.
“You’re right.” Twilight nodded sagely, then her expression hardened. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do everything possible to cut such unpleasant experiences short—something I have yet to accomplish.”
It was the moment Rarity waited for, perfectly arranged. She downed the last of her tea, the final and most biting part, matching the question she was about to ask.
“Then what do you want to achieve, Twilight?”
The Princess of Friendship tensed instantly—she was smart enough to predict where it was going, to know Rarity managed to see right through her. The seamstress in her turn smiled kindly and added softness into her next words, she meant to help, after all:
“Do you want your student to have experienced the beautiful world of friendship in full, with all its ups and downs? Or do you want her to be happy as she can be?” Rarity paused, anticipating a stronger reaction to what she was about to say and spoke with as much nonchalance she could put in her voice as she could. “Perhaps... is it an approval of others you aim for?”
Still, Twilight reacted as if she was slapped, trying to subdue both the grimace and the jerking of her body, not quite succeeding. She opened her mouth to answer, or more accurately, to object the accusation before all, but Rarity didn’t let her.
“There is no need to answer right now, darling.”
Forgetting her manners, she almost sprawled across the table to reach her friend’s hoof. For the first time since Twilight stepped into the boutique, she let her eyes meet her host’s eyes. To her surprise and relief, she saw none of the unpleasant things her imagination kept putting there. Only genuine sympathy, understanding, deeper than she had herself, and an almost impossible to catch glimpse of sorrow.
“There’s no rush. The answer is more important to you than to me,” Rarity added, squeezing Twilight’s hoof slightly. “Having it would solve everything for you.”
Before returning home, Twilight decided to make a couple of laps above Ponyville.
It was a desire born not from the accident taking place not long ago—she didn’t aim to improve her skill of flying at night. Nor it was curiosity—she gave a wide berth to the clearing where the impromptu party was taking place. The reason for her seemingly pointless soaring over the mostly asleep rural town was simple—she was wearing herself down.
It was something she had been doing for the last two weeks; perhaps a bit too drastic, yet still an effective measure against something she had no power of—her mind paying a visit to Princess Luna’s domain. Technically, there was supposed to be absolute confidence implied in such matters, but Twilight neither was looking forward to testing that nor being visited by Luna at all, even if it wasn’t a nightmare.
When Twilight’s hooves finally touched the crystal tiles of the castle’s balcony, she was ready to fall asleep right there. She forced herself not only to go into her room but past the bed—being exhausted still wasn’t a reason to forego basic hygiene. Something caught her eye—a few objects that weren't there before.
At the hoofboard of her bed, a pair of familiar saddlebags were slumped; surprising as their appearance was, it didn’t bother Twilight as much compared to another thing left behind by the sunset.
Atop the wrinkled covers a scroll lay, the highest quality parchment, the wax of the same grade bearing an indentation in the form of the sun with its rays reaching out.
A part of Twilight’s mind implored her to ignore it until the morning; the responsible, or, perhaps, the fearful fraction of her mind willed magic to grasp the letter and unfurl it.
It was written in immaculate font belonging to somepony who had had centuries to practice. The text didn’t have a single hint of its writer being dissatisfied with her visit, yet Twilight’s heart clenched.
Her hospitality was about to be repaid by Princess Celestia tomorrow evening.
After hours of rambunctious laughter and flamboyant spectacle, the night was finally able to regain its rule over Ponyville, albeit not in full. The last islands of light were scattered across the quaint town, echoing the joy of the performance, gradually winking out one by one. Nevertheless, one such spot stood strong.
The defiance wasn’t the only difference it had from its brethren—in the trembling light of a single lantern two mares had very little fun.
Though a considerable fleet of seemingly endless supplies and equipment lazily circled Starlight, her mind was elsewhere. Her mind kept returning to the events of the day, lingering equally on both happy and bitter moments. Even now she revelled in the monotonous labour of packing (made trivial by her magic)—it was in the company of a friend. However, soon enough the giddiness abdicated its throne to the sharp sense of betrayal, the mistrust stinging on a wound refusing to close.
It took Starlight a considerable effort to show not a single sign of knowing the story between Trixie and Twilight. When they first met in the spa, she utterly failed to recognize the ‘evil’ mare from Mr. Cake’s stories—it clicked in her head only much, much later. Although she wasn’t told all the details, she knew enough to see the actual motive behind Twilight’s actions and words.
It should be worse, to hear that so soon after the memorable night and the morning following it. Starlight couldn’t help but believe it was just a fluke, a mistake born out of stress and worry. Yet, with each repetition, her conviction faltered a bit. Before her thoughts fully succumbed to despair, she forced her gaze to focus on the objects in her arcane grasp and noticed something worrying.
“Trixie, can I ask a question?”
The initial response she received was a non-committal grunt; unlike Starlight, the showmare had to put considerable effort into packing up her things. After shoving a particularly stubborn piece of her magician’s materiel into a bloated sack, she deigned her newfound friend with an actual response, “Sure.”
“Where did you get all those fireworks?” More than half of the levitating swarm orbiting Starlight consisted of those; and that not taking into account the amount turned into a bluish haze obscuring the stars. “That’s a lot of them”
“I make them myself,” came a grudge reply; it was impossible to say if Trixie was trying to avoid that topic or was just being Trixie.
Starlight warily eyed the explosive equivalent of a siege crew’s ordnance payload. “Do I want to know where you got that much powder?”
Even curter than before, with an ever-present hint of pride, Trixie rasped, “A true magician never reveals their secrets.”
Caught in a sensation of awe and slight dread of looking and holding enough firepower to wipe a settlement the size of Our Town, Starlight had failed to notice Trixie struggling to haul the bag nearly of the same size she was.
She readily took it in her magic and, to Trixie’s visible chagrin, without much effort lifted it into the wagon.
It took Trixie some time to regain her breath, before she finally explained, “A friend in the Dragon Lands.”
The answer was still too enigmatic for Starlight’s taste, all things considered. However, she doubted it would be possible to get a more clear one; not without angering the showmare.
With the bag crammed into the surprisingly accommodating confines of Trixie’s home-slash-stage on wheels, the only thing left to fit into it were the ones in Starlight’s magic aura. She proceeded to wordlessly pass them, one by one, and the work of wrapping up went on.
The near-silence of the night was still too oppressive and eager to make Starlight’s doubts a debilitating chorus in her head, so she hurried to resurrect the conversation.
“I suppose you’ve made a lot of friends during your tours.”
Instead of replying to her outright, Trixie dove into the depths of her wagon with a bundle of fireworks both in her magic and mouth. Then she returned, her eyes a bit unfocused, seeing lands very distant. Again, Starlight had a hard time gauging her reaction—she also couldn’t write off Trixie just being tired; they both were quite exhausted by the long day. Whatever dictated the magician’s coldness, she didn’t refuse to respond, “More like business partners. The creatures who would make returning to those places worthwhile.”
“Do you have somepony like that in Ponyville?”
Though the intonation of her words didn’t change much, a warm smile graced Trixie’s muzzle. “I do have a friend here now.”
Their eyes met and Starlight couldn’t help but return the smile.
It wasn’t quite the same as winning the trust of Twilight’s friends or the rest of Ponyville residents, but meeting Trixie was one of the best things happened to Starlight in years .
Warm as the exchange had become, it was of little help against the nocturnal chill, reminding Starlight why she asked her question in the first place.
“Somepony else, so you can stay at their place?”
“I am fine staying here in my wagon,” Trixie grumbled, a note of discontent more prominent in her voice than before, becoming clear when she added, “As long as her Highness doesn’t mind.”
Oblivious to the change in her demeanour, Starlight pressed on, “I can talk to Twilight, there are a lot of free rooms in the castle.”
“Thanks, but no,” Trixie cut off hard, then added, denying any more offers, “You?”
Starlight blinked a few times in confusion. “Me?”
“Do you see anypony else?” Starlight nearly looked around, yet caught herself in time. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed by Trixie, who rolled her eyes and had to clarify, “Where are you staying?”
“Ah.” Starlight sheepishly smiled. “At Twilight’s place.”
The silence was her answer, accompanied by a long look, one eyebrow raised in an ambiguous gesture. She waited for it to be broken, and as Trixie turned back to the innards of her wagon eager to spill out and seconds began to stretch painfully, the unease settled in Starlight stomach. When it became unbearable, the question came out of her mouth by itself, cutting the night’s calm with desperate intensity:
“Is something wrong with that?”
Trixie glanced at her, bearing the same expression, and disappeared inside her wagon with the last of the fireworks. She returned moments later, two steaming tin mugs accompanying her, along with a thermos balanced on her withers. She sat down on a box, the only left outside, and levitated one of the mugs above the folding ladder leading into her home, inviting Starlight.
After they both settled, Trixie wrapping her cape tight around her and Starlight. Hiding in the doorway from cold, the former finally said:
“Not at all,” she sipped the hot chocolate. “She obviously cares about you a lot, you know.”
Despite the cold striking to her marrow, Starlight refused to touch her beverage.
“You make it sound like a bad thing.” Her tone bordered on hysterical.
She knew Trixie was a mare able to hold a grudge; her rivalry with Twilight was a perfect example. The question was how long it took the infamous magician to get her revenge on Starlight for basically abandoning her earlier this evening.
Trixie let out a long and exasperated sigh; not until then did Starlight notice their breaths coming out as thin clouds of vapour. She took a generous mouthful from her mug.
“You’re hearing it wrong, Starlight.” Again, there was the edge to her voice hiding her emotion by the veil of seemingly endless discontent, yet mixed with something uncharacteristic to it this time. “Twilight might be doing it ass-backwards, but the way I see it, she treats you better than everypony else.”
Starlight began to visibly relax, however, her state of mind refused to change at the last moment and she squinted at Trixie.
“How do you know that? I thought you never got along.”
The magician huffed indignantly and barked, “I don’t need a lot of time to get the gist of a pony, even if I don’t like her.”
Somehow, the trademark acerbity managed to finally persuade Starlight there was no ill intent. She wondered what the magician meant all along, and a sudden curious idea struck her. There must be something more than a single story of strife behind Trixie’s words—she was a traveller with a unique approach to those with whom her paths crossed.
“What do you think of me?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie thinks you should pay less attention to what others might be thinking of you and instead pay attention to how they are actually acting towards you.”
Starlight immediately started to reflect on her conversation with Trixie, her forehead creasing. Unseen to her, the showmare rolled her eyes, barely suppressing a groan.
“Twilight was so adamant on protecting you from me, I began to prepare for a vacation on the Moon,” she commented with a wry chuckle.
Starlight looked at Trixie like she grew a pair of wings. “Twilight doesn’t send ponies to the Moon. Where did you even get that idea?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie also thinks you should work on your sense of humour,” she deadpanned.
“Maybe there’s just something wrong with yours,” Straight shot back, an expression of disapproval refusing to leave her muzzle. To prove her point she added, “Perhaps Twilight was right about you after all.”
The magician cast a single tired glance at her. She downed the dregs in her mug and put a hat on, grumbling from under its brim, her face completely hidden in the shadow:
“In a sense, it is hard to blame her, after all the Great and Powerful Trixie is a mare to behold. However, hard feelings or not, it would have been a very not great and powerful move to take you from her.”
Following the example, Starlight finished her chocolate as well. Only for a very short moment, she fancied the idea of joining Trixie’s tours. Fun it might sound, she already refused to leave the castle once; and she had a more serious reason. “I would have stayed with her in any case, no offence.”
For the second time this evening, Trixie gave her a long strange look, violet eyes glimmering from under the hat.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
As soon as Starlight heard that, her jaws unhinged in a massive and prolonged yawn, so she missed the way Trixie shook her head in bewilderment.
The coldness of the air inhaled made Starlight cough, which in turn made her realize how much effort it took her to move limbs as she tried to cover her mouth. “I should return to the castle, it is quite late. Are you going to be here tomorrow?”
“Yes, but I’m leaving at the dawn” Trixie fidgeted under the cover of her cape, her hat’s tip bobbling dismally. “The winter is coming and it was never good for the Great and Powerful Trixie’s tours.” Yet a wide smile graced her lips then she added, “Though, now, when I have a reason to return here, it will happen sooner than later.”
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Act 2 Part 2
=================================
Twilight took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Celestia’s private chambers.
She was momentarily disoriented as the spacious room appeared to be on fire. The last rays of the sun, about to be hidden beyond the horizon, flooded it with the reddish-pink, setting everything ablaze, including the lone tall figure at the balcony.
The minutes passed in silence and Twilight stood enchanted, watching the goddess move the celestial body across the firmament with a practised and measured care; the divine sight never failed to tug the strings of her heart.
The soothing shadows rushed into the room as soon as the golden aura around Celestia’s horn flickered out; the ivory alicorn turning to greet her guest with a smile still bearing the warmth of the now tucked away sun.
Twilight struggled to return in genuinely.
Seeing her initial greeting wasn’t enough, Celestia spoke, just as warmly, “Good evening, Twilight.”
It was answered in a way neither expected, nor necessary—with a reserved, yet firm reverent bow and in a matching tone, “Princess Celestia.”
The sun goddess took it stoically, politely refusing to acknowledge the gesture and motioned with her wing to the delicate table, where a tea set glistened in anticipation.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.”
The two mares took seats opposite one another, following a long-established order of things. Excruciating moments of awkward silence followed, with Twilight fidgeting restlessly on her cushion, though it was as comfortable as they went. Her gaze kept jumping between various and numerous objects in the room until it ultimately stopped on the spot it had been avoiding in the first place—Celestia’s bottomless magenta eyes calmly observing her unease.
It was like a dam had broken, so fervently Twilight gushed, “Princess, I am so sorry–"
She was interrupted, stopped not as much by the volume—it didn’t change at all—nor by the content, but by the barely perceptible warning note when Celestia said, “Twilight.”
Knowing well that calling her former student by name wouldn't keep her calm forever, she continued, “While my visit didn’t go quite as planned, I enjoyed it nonetheless. The magic show your student helped to put up was nothing but splendid.”
The perfect mask of serenity didn’t crack as Twilight spoke with even more panic after the attempted reassurance, “But… But I didn’t see you there!” She clutched her ears in hooves, pulling at them in desperation. “I’m so sorry, if I knew, I would have made sure you got the best seat and–"
She wasn’t allowed to go on her tirade—the mare opposite her knew very well that it had no end. Seeing no amount of placating words would help—Twilight’s ability to turn them around was absolute—Celestia went with another tactic.
“Worry not, I wished not to disturb the flow of the performance, so I was present under a disguise.”
It proved effective, maybe even too much. Twilight froze, staring at her former mentor in shock, her jaw slowly unhinging by itself as she tried to comprehend the unimaginable.
Out of both the intent to cement her success and pure mischief, Celestia commented with a wink, “I can be quite discrete.”
Behind her a lamp, suspiciously out of style with everything else, quietly giggled ; the supposedly impossible event was either purposely ignored or missed altogether, depending on the perspective—host or visitor.
The latter had gone completely silent, staring dejectedly at her hooves. The worst hadn’t come to be, yet the emotions behind the refused admission of guilt kept her mind captive. Each passing second without a single word spoken weighed heavily on her and made it even harder to break the spell.
Although one-sided, the awkwardness in the air was nearly palpable; Celestia hesitated to end it—a wrong word could undo her work, leaving her little chance to have a meaningful conversation with her guest.
So, her golden aura enveloped the teapot, the liquid inside simmering a little, before levitating it above the table to pour greenish tea into two cups. Though not lacking grace, her movements were deliberate and leisurely to give them both a rightful opportunity to think.
Only when the teapot returned from its flight onto polished wood with a soft clink and the exotic aroma began to rise from both ends of the table in wisps, she attempted to re-ignite the conversation.
“This tea is a gift from the minotaur ambassador.” Celestia took a sip of the steaming beverage, thus inviting Twilight to do the same. After savouring it for a while, a bitter comment left her mouth on its own volition, “I wish his manners matched its taste—refined and intricate.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Twilight said even before her lips touched the porcelain and added a mere moment later. “I like it a lot.”
Celestia suppressed a sigh—she wouldn’t have received a different answer no matter what. Yet she played along, “In that case, I will pack the rest of it with you.” Before any objection could be uttered, she added, “So you can share with your student. You do have tea together, don’t you?”
Twilight jolted a bit—the question took her by a surprise. An unpleasant one. Just yesterday she lamented about failing to recreate her wonderful studentship; having tea with Celestia was a very memorable and important part of it. A dark wave of shame washed over her in a suffocating tide.
“We often have meals together,” she squeezed out of herself a lame excuse, blushing.
With the eyes glued to the contents of her cup, Twilight failed to see the faint smile gracing the immaculate alabaster features. Sloshing the soggy leaves in her cup, Celestia pressed on:
“In the castle, I presume?”
An image of an alternative visited Twilight’s mind—her and Starlight at a restaurant, their faces lit by a single candle… It was so vivid she couldn’t imagine anything else implied by the harmless curiosity.
Her blush deepened and the response leaving her lips was no longer a forced whisper, but an exclamation of fake nonchalance accompanied by a peal of nervous laughter, “Where else?”
Twilight tried to hide her embarrassment by taking a generous swig from her cup, which backfired spectacularly when her non-answer was followed by a non-question.
“You must be spending a lot of time together.”
By the skin of her teeth, Twilight avoided spraying the contents of her mouth at the goddess’s face—it cost her getting some inside her lungs. After a fit of violent coughing, when she was finally able to speak without choking, she nearly screamed, “No!” To be hastily rectified, “Um, only as much as necessary. Necessary for studying friendship, that is.”
Celestia patiently waited until Twilight wiped her muzzle—whatever tea didn’t go the wrong way had tried to escape via the nose.
“Any…” she smirked, “further plans?”
“What!?”
It was an actual scream this time, echoing the terror of a chilling realisation—none of it was Twilight’s imagination, Celestia knew it the entire time, every question straight to the point. It could be written off as Rarity’s excessive romanticism the first time, but if even a pony who was as pure as she can be and quite remote from the entire endeavour started to get such ideas… it was the exact scenario she dreaded more than anything else.
It called for definitive measures.
Twilight’s mind already began to conjure the plan as she tried to amend the situation right here and now.
“Ah… I… I want her to spend more time away from me.” Hearing the way her words came out, she corrected herself, “I mean, more time in Ponyville, outside the castle , making friends. As you can see, she already made one!”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Celestia commenced somewhat dryly, her apparent disappointment lost on her slightly unhinged guest.
Twilight beamed. “I’m glad you approve, Princess.”
Suppressing another very deep sigh, the sun goddess lifted the teapot in the air.
“More tea?” she lifelessly asked.
“Yes, please.”
The same wind gently caressing the wilting meadow around Starlight forcefully tugged at the kite. She readjusted the thread digging into her fetlocks and carefully rotated the spool, letting the foreign to the sky object soar higher into the endless blue.
The tall grasses around her rustled ceaselessly, murmuring their farewell, adding to the sorrowfully beautiful chorus of autumn. Were she to pay it any attention, she would realize it wasn’t the only soft breeze sending ripples across the sea of tarnished gold.
So it came to Starlight as a complete surprise when the midgrass parted to reveal a yellow pegasus so close, they almost bumped into each other. The spool fell out of her hooves, rolling across the damp earth, unwinding and binding Starlight’s hooves in taut coils, the kite bobbling in displeasure.
While she tried to untangle herself, Fluttershy regained her senses.
“My goodness, I am so sorry!”
When the battle with the thread was finally over in Starlight favour, she started to hastily reel it on. “No, Fluttershy, it is my fault, I should have known you work with animals here.”
“It is no worry, we were just passing by. The little critters at the veterinary clinic needed to get a breath of fresh air, so I took them out for a stroll.” As in proof to her words, a variety of cautious animals showed themselves, appearing from behind the demure mare. For a moment they retreated when a shadow of the descending kite passed over them. Fluttershy seemed to follow them, as she muttered, “If I knew you occupied this meadow already, we wouldn’t have disturbed you. Actually, we should be leaving.”
“No, no, there is no need, you don’t bother me in the slightest,” Starlight hurried to reassure her. Ignoring them both, Fluttershy’s motley company spread across the little clearing Starlight had trampled down, studying it and its creator with heartwarming curiosity. She couldn’t help but smile. “If anything, I enjoy the company of your animals.” After a pause lasting too long, she added, “And yours.”
The critters exploring the meadow together with a chilly breeze were the only sounds to be heard as two mares stared at one another as they suddenly found themselves in each other’s company.
As the last of the animals left Starlight’s presence, she shifted uncomfortably.
“That is very kind of you helping the clinic.”
“Thank you.”
Silence took the reign again, heavily weighing on Starlight’s mind. She tried to come up with another topic to no avail—each sounded lamer in her head than the previous. To her, it felt like many minutes passed before Fluttershy of all ponies saved the situation.
“I didn’t know you like kites, Starlight.” The pegasus motioned with her head at the object in question.
She stared at her kite like she saw it for the first time.
“Ah, well, it’s a hobby I picked up a long time ago.” The answer came as a stammer and was followed by a nearly deafening silence. Realizing if she didn’t continue, the conversation would die for good this time, Starlight said the first thing coming to her mind, “Truth be told, I often dreamed of being a pegasus and I still do from time to time. The open skies always felt like they were calling to me.”
All the time Starlight spoke, her eyes were still glued to the kite, recalling childhood fantasies. When she finished and dared to look at Fluttershy, she was met with an expression hard to decipher. Not a moment later her gaze fell back to the ground as shame overtook her like a fire. “Sorry, that probably was very insensitive of me.”
“Not at all.” There was nothing but warmth in Fluttershy’s voice; as Starlight peeked at her she saw a smile matching that tone. “I don’t spend all the time close to the ground—it’s more my instincts than my whim when I feel an urge to fly amongst the clouds with birds.” She peered over the grass, longingly looking at the rolling field set aflame by the soft glow of the setting sun. “If it was up to me, I would be an earth pony.”
“Why not a unicorn? You could use your magic to help animals.”
Fluttershy didn’t answer outright, though she acknowledged the question with a flick of her ear. It seemed like tearing eyes from the melancholic weald was taking her more effort than she could muster.
However, she finally managed to do it, only for as long as it took her to say, “I’m not sure, but it somehow feels right.” Then she returned to soaking up the last warm rays of the sun along with golden blades.
Starlight tried to follow her gaze, yet, on their own, her eyes wandered upwards, to the azure sky peppered with pink clouds and she couldn’t help but imagine herself soaring through them.
They unknowingly shared the same daydream for a while, and Starlight almost missed when Fluttershy asked, “I heard Princess Celestia visited Twilight yesterday. How did that go?”
The serenity faded away, replaced by the worries Starlight tried to leave behind.
“I wasn’t there, so I’m not sure.” A sigh escaped her lips. “Not sure it went well—it was about me, after all. I know how it must sound, but I have no regrets—I made a great friend.” She almost added, “and powerful”—she had to admit, it had a nice ring.
“Trixie, isn’t it?”
The question was purely symbolic, so Starlight simply nodded with the pegasus mirroring her motion.
Then she commented in a slightly concerned tone, “There must have been some resistance from Twilight, I imagine.”
Starlight gave her a long look.
The details of Trixie’s previous visits to Ponyville still evaded her. One thing was clear—it left a lasting negative impression on Twilight and she wasn’t a mare to hold a grudge for long. With how close she was with her friends it wasn’t hard to guess they must have a shared opinion on the wandering magician.
“Wouldn’t you agree with her?”
For a very brief moment, an expression alien to Fluttershy’s face appeared there—a frown. It was gone without a trace when she spoke, “Trixie is not a bad mare at heart. She is trying and it would be horribly wrong to refuse her the second chance.”
Starlight’s mouth moved on its own with a bitter comment.
“Twilight nearly did that.”
“The way I see it, she just got a bit carried away by the desire to protect you.” Her kind expression was joined by a bashful smile. “She reminds me of Discord so much at the moments like this—he would do the same for me.”
Discord was another prominent figure from Twilight’s past—and present—Starlight knew about by word of mouth. There was no vagueness about him.
“Not a very flattering comparison.” A sudden realization caught up with her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s alright, Discord is trying as well—it will take time for ponies to accept him.” At first, Fluttershy appeared unfazed; her smile faltered when she finished, “Some never will. If only they could see how sweet and caring he can be.”
To Starlight’s dismay, there wasn’t anything she could contribute to the conversation, not unless she would go by assumptions about Discord—and she didn’t want to try Fluttershy’s patience, however limitless it might appear.
Thankfully, the usually shy pegasus was inclined to continue herself:
“Our situations are so alike, don’t you think?” Seeing Starlight tilting her head in confusion, she tried to clarify. “In a good way, of course.”
“How do you mean?”
“Twilight cares about you as much as Discord is crazy about me.” Fluttershy’s face was again graced by the sheepish smile from before. “And both you and he have something beautiful in yourselves ponies should see instead of the past mistakes.”
Her eyes moved over the fields once more, unfocused, seeing something not quite there. She was oblivious to Starlight staring at her intently, trying to find an explanation in the dreamy expression.
Until she realized the expression itself was the answer.
It instantly made sense and made things nonsensical—why else would Discord act around Fluttershy as he did? Before Starlight could comprehend the entire concept the second wave of understanding hit her.
Fluttershy compared Twilight to Discord, even if she seemed to be heedless to the full reality of her situation.
Again, it made everything fit together and it also made things so complicated. The final sum of the first conclusions still seemed positive—Starlight wasn’t a trophy, nor unofficially a prisoner under probation. It was like a weight lifted from her shoulders, only for another to take its place there.
As much to herself as to Fluttershy, she finally replied, “I never thought of it that way... It does sound good.”
At first, it seemed her words fell on deaf ears, then the pegasus reacted with a sudden panic. The setting sun, painting the pastoral landscape in soft pink hues was the source of her distress.
“I’m terribly sorry, Starlight, but I’m afraid I have to return the animals to the clinic and then head home. Discord wanted to have a tea party after the errand he is running and I still haven’t prepared.”
Starlight didn’t want to part ways with the demure pegasus. Or maybe that was just anxious reluctance to face her teacher. Sadly, she couldn’t stay in the meadow forever, figuring how to approach this novel experience.
Steps echoed through crystal-paned halls as Starlight headed back to her room, the kite slung across her back like a folded sail. For once the glistening brilliance of the labyrinthian passages didn’t press from all sides with its unavoidable reflections; the mirror-like surfaces this time around cast back the light in her heart rather than bottomless despair.
Her canter slowed and her upbeat mood soured instantly as soon as she noticed a very particular door ajar—to the throne room. Though somehow she knew it wasn’t an emergency, the same feeling was telling her there wouldn’t be anything to be happy about; that part of the castle never brought good memories.
Her fears proved correct when she hesitantly pushed open the heavy door and discovered Twilight sitting at the table, looking despondently at the transparent landscape atop the polished crystal.
Not tearing her eyes from the ghostly image, the princess greeted her visitor in a hollow voice, “Starlight.”
Her ears drooped.
“Was it that bad?”
Twilight spoke, her tone the same emotionless drone, “Last night I told you about giving you the freedom to make your own decisions.” She paused, making Starlight’s heart skip a beat. “I’m not rescinding my decision, quite the contrary. I want you to spend more time outside the castle.”
Then came another pause, long and ominous.
“You can still stay here for the night and have meals, though I am not going to share them with you.”
Starlight’s head spun—she couldn’t understand what she was hearing at first; it made no sense.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked in a weak voice, taking a step forward, staring at Twilight’s mask of a face.
“No.” The indigo bangs shook slowly, following the motion of Twilight’s head; her eyes continued to flicker across the spectral map, studying it with too great an interest. “It would help you study friendship.”
One more step towards the table, demanding attention—to be refused again. The confusing denial of her teacher was reflected as profound frustration in Starlight’s demand for an answer, “What does refusing to eat with me have to do with friendship?”
“It would motivate you to seek company and thus meet other ponies.” Twilight tried to sound enthusiastic, only for it to come out as a mechanical recital of some kind of a pamphlet.
The response was nearly spat out; she cringed at both the tone and the meaning.
“Maybe I should also seek company for the night?”
For the first time throughout the conversation, there was emotion in Twilight’s voice—she just couldn’t help it.
“That is unnecessary.”
Starlight continued the glacial advance, but her teacher stubbornly refused to acknowledge it as a serious confrontation, choosing to stare at the ethereal map like her life depended on it. However, Starlight could swear at some point Twilight tried to slide her throne back, to be reminded of it being part of the floor; she shrank into the cold crystal instead.
“You’re kicking me out of the castle.” Starlight had to pause and rein in her emotions, so her next words wouldn’t be a yell. “How am I supposed to survive?”
“No, I’m not,” it came as an accusation. “You’re always welcome here.”
“What went wrong? I thought we were doing great.”
Unlike before, Twilight didn’t reply instantly and when she did, it was in a very quiet voice, almost reluctant, “Ponies are getting the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea of what?” Starlight demanded, mere steps away from the table separating them like a bottomless chasm.
The long and heavy silence was her answer.
She glowered at Twilight, wanting nothing more than to circle—or even climb over—the damned slab of crystal, grasp her in her hooves and look into those elusive deep violet eyes; to scream at her—anything—so the things would return to normal how they were less than a day ago. What could have changed over that time?
Starlight’s head snapped up.
“What did Celestia say to you?”
Twilight flinched and her gaze shifted to glance at Starlight in annoyance, yet never reached her.
“Princess Celestia.”
“She doesn’t approve,” Starlight hissed through gritted teeth.
With a sudden emotion, Twilight retorted indignantly, “Approve of what ?” She visibly tensed, clenching her jaws so hard that Starlight thought she would hear teeth crack. Although her eyes were hidden behind her hanging down mane, it wasn’t hard to imagine her glaring at the map.
Starlight’s anger abated and she let out a sigh—with the respect Twilight had for her former mentor, it was futile to force her to defy whatever opinion Celestia had. She refused to give up, however.
“You are a Princess yourself, you have as much freedom to make your decisions as you give me.”
The spell from before gone, Twilight deadpanned, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Starlight was so close to the table now, the lucent image was reflecting in her eyes and the moisture framing them. Yet the mare opposite to her seemed to withdraw further into the shadow of the throne.
She still couldn’t understand what was happening and no amount of questions would help it.
There was an answer to it all, here, in plain sight.
“Twilight, can you look me in the eyes?”
She raised her head… and turned it to the side.
“Spike is cooking supper, you should have it if you’re hungry. I will wait.”
“You can have it. I’m eating somewhere else.”
Twilight bit her lip and spoke, her voice finally her own.
“Starlight…”
The room was already empty and silent, safe for the sound of tears falling on the crystal panes.
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Act 2 Part 3
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“Rarity?” Twilight’s call echoed through the emptiness of Carousel Boutique. “Rarity!”
Deeply disappointed, she almost prepared to leave the atelier, when a curly mane appeared from around the corner, followed by a scrutinizing gaze from emerald eyes.
“Oh, hello, Twilight.” Upon recognizing the guest—intruder, really—the filly fully revealed herself, and her expression changed to that of curiosity. “She isn’t home, I’m afraid.”
“Hi, Sweetie.” Twilight tried her best at producing a genuine smile, without much success. “Do you know where she went?”
The little unicorn took her time coming up with a reply, scrunching her muzzle in concentration, “I think she mentioned something about meeting Fluttershy, but I’m not sure.” Her eyes went wide. “Is it an emergency? Are we being attacked!?”
“Goodness, no.”
There was a sharp sense of déjà vu when Twilight momentarily wished it was the case. An emergency would be better than… this.
“Would you mind staying for tea then?” Rarity’s sister broke her out of the reverie; as no immediate answer followed, she pouted, staring Twilight directly into her soul with the utmost pleading eyes ready to shed tears.
A fierce internal battle lasted for a bit, and ultimately Twilight was able to look away.
“Sorry, Sweetie Belle, but I’m not in the mood now.”
Partially true, aided by an unsaid observation—the last two times Twilight accepted such an offer, she ended up having unpleasant revelations. Having one more right now was the last thing she needed.
“You don’t mind if I wait for Rarity here?”
Not waiting for confirmation, Twilight sat heavily on the floor, pressing her back against a shelf housing fabrics rolls. A sigh escaped her lips—as much as an exhale forced by the collision as the expression of her frustration.
She wasn’t angry with Rarity; that mare had no obligation to always be in reach. It was Starlight’s conviction that bothered her the most of all things—she simply didn’t understand how precarious the entire situation was; being a princess didn’t make it easy, there was little freedom to afford.
Twilight had done what had to be done.
Except, her eyes still burned with recent tears—she could only hope Sweetie Belle wouldn’t notice.
“Something happened, didn’t it?”
The question took Twilight by surprise—she didn’t expect the filly to stay—so she missed its meaning.
“Hmm?”
“You look worried and very sad.”
“Ah, well…” What was the harm in talking about it with a little filly? Twilight had already rejected her invitation, ignoring her genuine care was uncalled for. “I said some things I shouldn’t have said.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Twilight hoped the conversation would awkwardly die there, however, she underestimated Sweetie Belle.
“If it wasn’t the right thing, then what was?”
If Twilight knew, she wouldn’t be here.
“I don’t know.”
Sweetie Belle didn’t get the hint, she even giggled as she said, “Strange to hear that from a princess.”
“Princesses don’t know everything,” she snapped and instantly felt a pang of regret when the filly hung her head, ears drooping.
Before Twilight could say anything, she muttered, “Sorry.”
Then there was awkward silence Twilight wanted not so long ago, yet she wasn’t happy to bear it. Fortunately for her, the filly recovered quickly.
“It’s just… you wouldn’t become a Princess if you didn’t know what to do, right?”
Twilight would have argued with that statement a lot . Instead, she agreed, “No.” Sweetie Belle gave her an expectant look and she had to explain herself, “But this time I am really at a loss of what my next step should be. And whether there should be a step at all…”
“How did you solve your problems before?”
Twilight didn’t have to think long for the answer, “I always had my friends with me.”
“From what Rarity told me, that’s not true. Like when Discord did his... thing... on them. What did you do back then?”
This time, it took her a few moments.
“I… I followed my heart.”
“And what does your heart tell you now?”
Twilight froze, then abruptly stood up, heading for the exit.
“I made a terrible mistake.”
The message was clear—whatever was happening in Twilight’s head, despite her reassurances of the opposite, Starlight was no longer welcome in the Castle of Friendship. So, she despondently dragged her hooves as she wandered Ponyville.
The problem was that while her stay in the castle was terminated, she doubted it allowed her to leave its premises as well. Elsewise, she would join Trixie the next time the magician happened to visit, or even follow her in hopes of catching up with the tour.
With the sun set, any chance to find a place to stay, having not a single bit in her possession, save for the heavy baggage of her past, was approaching zero, if it wasn’t there already. A tear rolled down her cheek, then another, following fresh trails. It wasn’t the prospect of a freezing night spent outside or the gnawing hunger preparing to settle in that was breaking her heart.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
All the struggle, the hope building up, the mirage of success—and she came to the place where she started her adult life. She wouldn’t follow it further again, nopony would give her a third chance. So where did that leave her? Was the life of a homeless outcast all she would ever have?
The sobs she tried to conceal choked her—the young moon would hide her tears, but not the sniffling. However, her effort proved inefficient, when a very concerned pony appeared from the darkness, barring the way.
“Starlight!” Rarity rushed to her and she cringed away. “Starlight, what happened?”
“Nothing. I should be going.”
She tried to walk around the alabaster unicorn but wasn’t allowed to.
“It’s about Twilight, isn’t it?”
Starlight turned in the opposite direction only to be followed with a surprising speed. She glowered at Rarity stubbornly taking a stand and meeting her baleful gaze unflinchingly. In that very moment, Starlight’s stomach decided to embarrass her with a loud reminder of its prolonged emptiness.
Before she could even blush, Rarity hooked her under hoof and dragged her across the street.
“That settles it. I’ll treat you with a meal and you tell me what it is about.”
A plate with a casserole steamed in front of Starlight, making her mouth water. Yet she hesitated to touch it, for there was a price she didn’t want to pay—she wouldn't go away with her stomach full without sharing the source of her grief.
As if to remind her about the unspoken deal, Rarity quietly, but in an impatient tone, asked, “So, what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is not very helpful, darling.”
Starlight was able to tear her gaze away from the plate and was met with a scowl.
“I actually don’t know.” Her indignation was short-lived—she continued in a hollow voice, “Everything seemed to be alright. Then after returning from Canterlot she practically forbade me from staying at the castle unless I can’t help it.”
“She what !?” Rarity’s yell caused a few heads to turn in their direction.
“I am just as confused. I thought she…” Starlight’s eyes fell back on the meal—it no longer looked appetizing. “Never mind.”
“Darling,” Rarity spoke very softly, almost whispering, “she came by me yesterday. I know.”
Starlight stared at her, wide-eyed.
“D-did she confess it to you?”
“No.”
Starlight visibly deflated, tears welling in her eyes, and Rarity hurried to explain:
“Unfortunately, Twilight never was a subtle pony.” She rubbed her chin, almost purposely oblivious to Starlight’s face lighting up. Finally, she smiled. “Well, I guess it proved fortunate for once.” The grin faltered a bit, though, when she added, “On the other hoof I am not sure I like being tangled up in all this.”
Starlight’s expression fell as well, becoming as dark as it had been moments before, if not worse. Her eyes returned to lifelessly studying the casserole.
“I am not sure there’s anything left to be tangled in,” she muttered.
“Hmm, I wouldn’t give up so quickly.” Rarity paused, squinting at Starlight with what almost seemed like menace. “Unless you want to. Do you?”
“I... don’t know.” She flinched as the seamstress shot her a very disappointed glance. “I don’t know what to think, what to do. It’s all too confusing.”
Rarity’s expression relaxed, becoming almost tired, and she let out a sigh.
“You should start with finishing your meal before it goes cold.”
“Thank you, Rarity.”
She dug into her plate with gusto—Rarity certainly knew what she was ordering. Feeling like more gratitude was in order, she swallowed another mouthful and added, “I know you are all about generosity, but I still didn’t expect you to do that for me.”
Rarity’s eyebrows went up. “Why wouldn’t I, darling?”
“Because of the things I did.” The food suddenly tasted like ashes in her mouth and she had to force herself to continue. “I suspect it is a big part why Twilight is acting like that.”
“Starlight…” she almost groaned.
She went on, food forgotten, fork fallen from her magical grasp, “I still don’t know for sure if she tried to keep Trixie and me apart because it would be a bad influence on me and I would relapse, or because she was protective… or jealous.”
Rarity put her hoof on Starlight’s and she stopped rambling.
“The problem is that I don't think even Twilight knows.” A mirthless smile appeared on her muzzle. “You two are a perfect mess.”
Starlight looked at her with pleading eyes.
“Could you help me, please?”
Another sigh, no less tired, escaped Rarity’s lips. “No more than I helped Twilight, which is exactly as much help as should be given.Take your time to reflect on yourself.”
With her head tilted Starlight awaited for continuation; when it didn’t come, she uttered, unable to hide the lack of enthusiasm in her voice, “Thank you, Rarity.”
The seamstress watched as she returned to her meal, regarding the distraught mare with a thoughtful look for a while. Although the casserole no longer was eaten as fast, she still waited patiently until it remained no more. Then she finally commented:
“I know it’s not what you expected, but I’m afraid involving myself any further in your problems will make it even worse. However, I might have something else to offer.”
Starlight’s head shot up from the plate she was busy poking with the fork, hopeful expression instantly overtaking her features.
“I doubt it would be wise for you to confront Twilight so soon.”
Rarity’s words reflected with impatience of Starlight’s muzzle before their meaning caught up with her.
“I… don’t want to see her right now,” she muttered despondently.
“So, why don’t you stay at Carousel Boutique for a while? I could always use the assistance of a skilful unicorn.”
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
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 3 Part 1
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Heavy snowfall on such a day meant the songs would be louder, the embraces warmer.
Only a comforter hugged Twilight as she stared out of the window, only the especially loud fragments of celebration flicked her ears. Her somber eyes followed the large snowflakes lazily drifting through the frigid air, in truth barely registering them for what they were.
Despite the castle walls impenetrable to cold, she wrapped the comforter tighter, for her mind was outside, searching for Starlight in a cold not unlike right now.
Twilight scoured the darkness-flooded town inch by inch, the beats of her aching heart counting the excruciating moments into agonizing hours; the beats of her burning wings—a rhythm to a song of pain and exhaustion.
The search, however futile it proved to be in the end, could have reached its conclusion sooner if only she had been accompanied by at least the moon. It wasn’t the shame deterring her from asking help, but the sharp sense of justice—it was her fault and there was no one other than her to pay for it.
When she ultimately not quite landed but fell from the paling sky, her eyes searched for the light of stars and could find none—gone without a trace. No tears rolled down her cheeks to dew the withered grass; the cruel wind, her unwilling follower that night, stole any she had long ago.
Like that Rarity found her—neither a corpse nor living being sprawled on rigid earth: a fallen angel. She approached Twilight without a sound, bloodshot purple eyes meeting sapphire making air around feel warm. Then her expression softened, albeit, not completely.
Rarity’s quiet voice was barely above a whisper, it rang through the still morning, nevertheless, “She’s staying at my place.”
All life left Twilight’s limbs, and she spent long seconds simply breathing, her eyes closed, leaking newfound moisture.
“Please, tell her I take my words back.”
A measured nod was her only answer.
In a sudden flare of anger, Twilight shrugged away the woollen blanket—the memory stayed like a thorn lodged deep. Uneven steps carried her to the doors and she hurried to wipe the frown from her muzzle, perk her ears up—she was a princess.
She didn’t truly know why the frown was there; even if the holiday wasn’t enough, there was at least one more reason to smile.
Today would be the first time Starlight returned to the castle.
It was easy for Starlight to make a decision to finally pay a visit to the Castle of Friendship; not because of her scant yet still valuable possessions. Over time the umbrage had faded away, replaced by fear that ultimately ceded to longing.
The castle greeted her with a robust celebration, the usually dark and silent halls filled to the brim with glow and laughter. Although the holiday spirit failed to claim her heart, she no longer stalked the crystal-paned passages, the destination clear in her mind—the library.
Yet when she saw the wide and false smile trying to overshadow eyes full of pain, a coursed gaze evading hers the last moment… she couldn’t help but turn away; only the overly polite plea stopped her from leaving.
Twilight’s voice as sweet as ever, every hint of woe gone from it as she became gradually immersed into the story she almost sang. And it was ignored. Although Starlight’s eyes intently studied the face of the mare before her, it wasn’t where her attention belonged either.
Her teacher still wore a mask and the glimpses of enigma beneath disturbed Starlight beyond measure—she suffered. Was it because she was absent for so long, or because she’d returned? Should she stay or leave?
By the time the story was finished, it wasn’t hard for her to not look back when she walked out of the castle, the riddles she asked of herself unanswered.
Starlight raised her eyes to the overcast sky as if it could know; it replied by peppering her dismayed visage with snow.
All of sudden the swollen grey clouds were replaced by a polychromatic mane and a pair of magenta eyes.
“Yo.” Rainbow Dash sounded more annoyed than concerned. “What are you doing alone in this cold?”
A trademark drawl joined her, “Heya, Starlight.”
Looking around, she saw nopony else, yet the present company still unnerved her—what would those two be doing here instead of joining the big party at Twilight’s place? Nor she couldn’t decide if Applejack glared at her or it was merely a shadow cast by the wide brim on the famous hat. Something told Starlight giving any answer but honest would be a bad idea.
“I guess saying now I’m out for a walk would be lame.” She let out a half-hearted laugh.
The pegasus hovering in the air, her expression increasingly impatient, instantly grumbled, “Everything you say is lame.”
“Rainbow!” Applejack tried to catch the young Wonderbolt by the tail, but she lived up to her name. Undiscouraged, she smirked, “Don’t mind her, she just landed on her noggin’ too many times.”
“Hey!”
Ignoring her friend, Applejack continued, “If ya not heading anywhere important, why dontcha come with us?”
Starlight eyed them cautiously. “And you are going to…?”
“Sweet Apple Acres. Gonna have an adult Hearth’s Warming,” Rainbow readily and enthusiastically supplemented.
“Adult,” Starlight deadpanned.
“Ya know,” Applejack chuckled, “with something stronger than eggnog, and a nice laugh about things we don’t discuss with fillies and colts around.”
“More like with something strongest in the town, and listening to Granny Smith’s tales about her love life from when she was young...”
“That was one time!” With an indignant growl, AJ again tried to bring the pegasus from the sky, and as the deep snow rendered her attempt futile, she returned to Starlight. “So, you coming?”
With an almost deafening crash, Rainbow dashed into the barn wall and it shuddered ominously. She half-bounced back, half-slid into the pile of hay at the floor, disappearing from the sight.
It didn’t seem anypony bothered to even blink.
Starlight nudged Applejack with her elbow, distracting her from a conversation with Bon Bon. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Yep, will be back in ‘bout half ‘n hour.” She eyed the haystack as it snored. “Maybe.” Turning back to the beige mare, she found her already walking away, Lyra by her side. She shrugged and took a hearty sip from her mug. “Them pegasi horrible drinkers, I’m tellin’ ya.”
Starlight waited, expecting Applejack to either leave her or for somepony to take the empty seat. However, it remained unoccupied and AJ seemed to be content with her silent company. More time had passed, this time Starlight took it for herself, mustering the courage to risk the fragile peace.
“Thank you, Applejack.”
“No need, Starlight,” Aj replied with a guffaw, completely missing the quiet and serious tone. “It’s a holiday, everything’s on the house—family tradition.” As to prove her words, she moved a bowl with dried apples closer to her guest. A cyan magic aura took a few slices, depositing them near a mug with cider, to be equally untouched.
“I mean, for inviting me. I really didn’t expect you of all ponies, no offence.”
Starlight expected anything but not a snort as an answer; it was promptly followed by equally dismissing words, “Stop being silly. Just coz Rainbow blacked out, yain’t hafta do her job.”
Still, it was like a heavy weight was lifted from the unicorn’s shoulders. A tentative smile began to creep on her face, but its visit was cancelled abruptly—after taking a swig from her tankard, Applejack added:
“Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t like you.”
An incredulous, almost terrified look took reign over Starlight’s features.
Oblivious to the shocked expression or simply choosing to ignore it, AJ continued in a measured tone, “I never used to like Rarity either, although it’s her who asked me to look out for ya.” Remembering something, Applejack paused, tapping her chin. “Actually, it’s Fluttershy who brought the idea first—and she ain’t a perfect mare, neither. Thing is, I ain’t got to like you to treat you like a friend you are, sugar cube.”
“I… thanks.”
Though the satisfaction of winning Applejack’s trust was a bit spoiled by a brutal truth, it was a victory nonetheless; Starlight wasn’t sure if it was what bothered her or the emotional rollercoaster was to blame.
AJ, who kept eyeing her, finally decided to comment on her perturbation, “You still look like you bit an apple and there’s a half of a worm.” With a stern frown, she hastily added, “Ain’t gonna happen with our apples. Ever.”
Suddenly remembering the reason why she ended up there in the first place, Starlight shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Given no other choice but to tell the truth, she was hesitant to explain herself. “When I was at the castle, Twilight read me a story, and I think she tried to tell me something with it–"
She wasn’t let to finish her worry.
“Listen, I’ve heard some of it in passing, and I ain’t coming near whatever is happening between you two, sorry.”
“It’s… not about that.” Starlight glanced warily at Applejack, waiting to be caught on being not entirely honest, but she was too busy refilling her mug, or just didn’t care. “You know the story about Snowfall Frost, right?”
“Sure as Celestia’s day, sugar cube.” A wide and warm smile accompanied her words. “Granny used to read it to me and Big Mac all the time.”
“She tried to hint to Snowfall and I being not that different.”
AJ’s forehead creased in thought as she processed the information and ultimately chose to remain a frown, deeper than it was initially and showing clear glimpses of anger.
“Starlight, you’re a smart pony, I reckon.” Applejack glowered at her. “Then why do you talk like a fool? Sometimes a book’s just a book.” A conspiratorial smirk graced her lips. “Don’t tell her that, though.” Then her expression regained its hard quality, albeit to a less extent. “She just wanted to share a good story, that’s all.”
For a full minute, relative silence ruled over the table, Starlight’s visage contorting, unable to decide on something concrete.
“But what if she is right?”
Applejack rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Banging her hoof on the table, she turned away from it and shouted into the barn, “Hey, Carrot Top!”
A fiery-orange head perked up. “Yeah?”
Pointing her hoof at Starlight in an exaggerated fashion, AJ yelled, “Do you know this mare?”
“Rarity’s apprentice or somethin’.” Carrot Top, her gaze unfocused, shrugged, then returned to her drink.
Pressing her lips together and muttering curses under her breath, Applejack searched the party for somepony more communicative; her eyes stopped on a laughing fuschia mare.
“Cheerilee?”
“Huh?” The local teacher smiled dumbly, trying to understand what was wanted of her; then AJ pointed once more in the direction of her companion, Cheerilee’s smile widened. “Ah, Starlight Glimmer, she helped me at school one or two times!”
The conversation caught the attention of most barn occupants and at the mention of Starlight’s name by Cheerilee curious glances turned into nods of approval.
“See? I can ask anypony who lives in Ponyville and most of them would be happy to drink a mug or two of cider with you! Speaking of which...” Applejack topped up Starlight’s drink, then raised her own in a toast. “For friendship!”
Instead of echoing her words, Starlight thought for a moment before her mug joined AJ’s in the air.
“For acceptance!”
The urge to pick up the book with magic and throw it out of the window into the snow to never be seen again was overwhelming. Yet Twilight kept herself still, staring at the offending piece of literature like she expected it to catch on fire due to the power of her sheer will.
Whatever her heart told, Twilight considered herself a reasonable mare at the end, so she knew it wasn’t the Hearth’s Warming Tale to blame for Starlight’s abrupt departure. Her expression softened and eyes drifted to the now empty space as she longed for it to become occupied again, at least for the rest of this evening.
“Twily!”
Her head shot up, ears perked in a direction of the voice she expected to hear the least today. Finding its source, she demanded of the stallion confidently striding across the library, “What are you doing here?”
Shining Armor struck an overly dramatic pose of a grave offence.
“Is this how you greet your brother?”
Not a moment later, Cadance, who somehow managed to hide behind her husband all the time, joined him, “And you sister-in-law!”
Their smiles didn’t falter even a little bit when Twilight’s muzzle not only failed to mirror their merriment but scrunched with a matching frown creasing her forehead.
“I’m very glad to see you, but you should have warned me you are coming, so I could have prepared.”
Cadence chuckled, “That is exactly why we didn’t do it.”
Shining supplemented her with a wide smile, “The Crystal Ponies celebrate the Hearth’s Warming differently, so Cadie decided to pay a blitz visit to her aunties and me—to stop by here on our way back home.”
Twilight stared at her unexpected, yet still welcomed guests, trying to figure what to do with them and not quite finding the answer. Seconds added up into minutes and the awkwardness descended on the three ponies in the library like a heavy blanket, quickly becoming suffocating.
“I am not surprised to see you with a book, but shouldn't you join your friends downstairs? Let’s go!”
Despite the day starting to cede to the night, the celebration at the Castle of Friendship wasn’t coming close to its conclusion, becoming merrier and merrier as ponies kept joining the party.
Twilight was torn between joining it herself and continuing to supervise the pageant in the case any of her preparations failed to prove sufficient. Yet as the crowd fell apart into small groups, feasting on the food and drinks, finding activity to immerse themselves into—be it something provided by the host or simple enjoyment of their present company—nothing seemed to be out of order. Everypony but the Princess of Friendship was perfectly content.
More out of restlessness than the aim to alleviate that, she ultimately decided to leave her post above the clamour. By sheer chance, when Twilight stepped from the crystalline steps, she found herself looking at something somehow missed—a competition of sorts.
The only participants seemed to be none other than the rulers of the Crystal Empire, who to the exuberation of the crowd gorged on the fruit cake in attempts to finish it as fast as they could. With horrified expression Twilight watched as the Princess of Love, completely forgone her magic, shoving the hooffulls of the crumbling bakery in her mouths, smearing the filling across her muzzle, not just matching her husband in a display of uncouth manners, but overshadowing the sheer barbarism as she lowered her lips to the plate, devouring its contents akin to a wild animal.
Yet, neither Cadance nor Shining Armor seemed to be bothered by their appearance at all; their antics were either ignored by the gathered around them for the sake of the race or met with genuine approval, expressed with hearty laughter.
Finally, with a victorious whoop, Cadence shot her hooves in the air, a triumphant grin plastered on her face, almost hidden under the remainder of the cake.
“I win!”
Just a second later, Shining Armor tore his muzzle away from the empty plate and unlike his wife, scowled.
“You cheated!” Pointing an accusing hoof at her he added, “At least half of your cake is still on your face.”
The alicorn smugly remarked with a smirk. “What are you going to do about it, huh?” It instantly went away, her eyes widening when Shining lunged, his horn ablaze.
Cadence dodged the attack with a titter of amusement, leaving her husband sprawled where she was a moment ago. He recovered quickly and began to chase his wife, trying to catch her from the air. After about a minute of the laughter coming as much as from them as from the surrounding ponies, he managed to make her a forced landing in his hooves; the peace between them was sealed with a modest kiss.
The entire scene started as something incomprehensible—the figures of power acting like that amidst the populace, uncaring about their reputation… Yet Twilight couldn’t help but smile herself, looking at how happy her family was. It was when she met her brother’s eyes.
“We demand a rematch!” somepony yelled from the crowd.
The appeal was met with wide approval and Shining Armor laughed, “I guess we are up for round two, eh?”
“I’ll just beat you at it again!”
“Maybe, but you will have to compete against a real pro this time, somepony taught by the best.” Shining waved his hoof in a welcoming gesture.
Smiling sheepishly, Twilight approached him.
Blinking in confusion, Starlight stared at the crystal panning every surface around her. It wasn’t the question of where to head next, though. After the months-long absence, she had begun to lose her grasp on the labyrinthian layout. The cider, it seemed, had more influence on her than she cared to admit.
Trying to remember the path to her room, she turned around and was met not as much as a pony, but a silhouette half-hidden in the island of darkness, where the enchanted gem lanterns didn’t quite reach. Even in her not entirely lucid state, it took her a mere moment to recognize Twilight—there weren't many alicorns around, anyway.
Starlight’s thoughts became as clear as the crystals around and promptly winked out, leaving behind the emptiness of indecision. For what felt like an eternity, she peered into the shadows, waiting for them to move, but the mare on the opposite end of the corridor mirrored her stillness; Twilight was a statue cast in hesitance herself.
Hearts beat fastest as there was a movement—Twilight took a tentative tiny step forward, her features becoming pronounced when she got closer to the light, albeit still too concealed to read her expression; yet Starlight saw a glimmer of the eyes looking at her intently from the dark.
Something faltered inside her, and before she could give it a proper thought, her hooves carried her a step back. Twilight froze, then moved back herself—a frantic movement.
Strong and indistinguishable emotions flooded Starlight’s mind—she wanted nothing more than to cross the spot of light and embrace Twilight in her hooves; however, that desire was making her limbs shake, not move. Somehow she knew that the same battle raged on the other side of the spotlight’s indomitable ravine.
Starlight's thoughts finally found clarity—not the answer she wanted right now, nor was it correct—the only she had.
Sharply turning around, she ran out of the castle.
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Act 3 Part 2
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A sharp stone flew from under Starlight’s hoof, causing her wince. She squinted into the distance and had to suppress a groan—the Hive seemed even further than it was minutes ago. Her tired gaze wandered across her company, both Thorax and Discord appearing just as unsatisfied with the arduous drudging across the unwelcoming waste, despite it being the home to the former. Trixie, however, seemed fine dealing with the coarse road under her hooves.
Noticing Starlight staring at her, she neared her friend and loudly whispered, nudging her with the elbow, “So, how is it?”
“How is what?”
“Glad to see you are as dense as I remember you; wisdom in stability, they say,” Trixie grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “Living together with Miss-Knows-It-All.”
“We aren’t.” Starlight’s voice was quiet and dry. “I stay at Carousel Boutique.”
“Wait, what happened? Don’t tell me she kicked you out.”
“She didn’t, I left on my own.”
“What!?” Trixie’s yell was loud enough to bring the attention of their companions but didn’t keep it for long, letting her continue, “For Celestia’s sake, I’ve been gone for just a few months…” Pinching the bridge of her nose with the hoof, she sighed. “Okay, start from the beginning.”
“There is nothing to tell.”
Starlight tried to veer away from Trixie, yet found no success as she followed her with a determined expression. She then turned away and was prodded gently in the shoulder by her friend.
“C’mon, Starlight.”
She hesitated, choosing how to present the sudden confrontation followed by months of dejection. Letting out a sigh on her own, she decided on the simple, “She let me know it was inappropriate.”
Trixie’s reaction was immediate—she blew a raspberry.
Giving her an annoyed glance, Starlight murmured, “Twilight has a point—we are a student and a teacher.”
“What nonsense.” Again, Trixie was fast to reply. “You’re as much her student as her prisoner.”
They walked in silence for a few long minutes, Starlight receiving an impatient look until she finally spoke, her tone melancholic, “It’s funny, you know. I proved to everypony I’m no longer evil, yet in the end, it’s her still considering me as such, even if she doesn’t fully realize it herself.”
“It is not funny because it is not true. The only thing your precious egghead doesn’t understand—she is as dumb as a rock.”
Starlight tried to glare at her, but it came out as an exhausted stare.
“Do you consider anypony other than yourself smart, Trixie?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie chooses not to answer that question for your own sake,” she replied with a trademark haughty expression but quickly dropped the act. “Anyway, Twilight loves to create problems where they don’t exist.” She added with a guffaw, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this—you should know it for yourself, it makes me sound like I’m her marefriend and not you.”
This time Starlight managed to muster a glare so severe it even conjured some politeness from the magician.
“Sorry.” Trixie was swift to recover from the rare moment of embarrassment. “All that talk about you together being inappropriate and so on is just a facade.”
“To hide what?”
“She’s scared.”
“And what should I do?” A mien of utter despair washed away the calm and defiant mask from Starlight’s face. “The last time I tried to talk to her, she just ignored my words.”
“What are you…” Trixie frowned, fumbling with words. “What was that pegasus’ name… Shutterfly?”
“It’s Fluttershy, o, the Smart and Wise Trixie.”
“Do it again, and you will have to deal with your romantic escapade on your own.” Despite how menacing her words sounded, she was smiling; it went unnoticed by Starlight, who stared at her hooves as she dragged them across the discoloured dirt. Trixie elbowed her and after receiving a half-hearted grin continued, “What I wanted to say before you interrupted me is that you’re not Fluttershy—you have to be assertive. Talk to her again.” Shaking her head with an annoyed sigh, she finished, “Seriously, you both are as good as mute.”
“I told you it didn't work—and it wouldn’t. If I press an issue too hard I can make things only more difficult, if not impossible to fix.”
“Then figure out something. Put it in a way she can’t escape.”
Blinking groggily, Twilight opened her eyes and didn’t recognize her surroundings—dark and damp, smelling sharply with a heavy foreign aroma. Then they shot wide open and simultaneously she tried to move, to discover she couldn’t. She then funnelled arcane energies into her horn, aiming to dispel the shadows and find out what bound her—and failed miserably as magic refused to answer her call. However, the lack of success didn’t prevent her from struggling in her unknown chains.
She froze when the all too familiar cackle reached her ears.
“There is no escape this time.” Queen Chrysalis emerged from the darkness, flashing long fangs with her predatory grin. “I’m not making the same mistake twice.”
“You’ve already failed—we know how to defeat you!”
The changeling queen’s horn flared with sickly green light and a loud gasp of horror escaped Twilight’s lips—all around her, encased into the cocoons of pale lime slime were her friends, her brother and all the alicorns in Equestria.
“You were saying?”
Twilight’s gaze kept jumping between the peaceful expressions of the ponies so dear to her as they remained unconscious in the cages of hardened mucus, shifting in their artificial sleep. She almost screamed again when the light faded away, submerging them into the black.
As her mouth opened and closed, unable to find any retort, Chrysalis smiled wider. Beaming like a filly on Hearth’s Warming Eve, she seemed to be almost dancing in place.
“I won!” The glee in her voice made it vibrate in the strange insect way. “Everypony you love, everything you love—I stole from you like you almost stole victory from me.”
“We… we are going to stop you.” Each word was quieter than the previous until it was but a whisper, “Somehow we will.”
“I almost feel sorry for you.” Chrysalis stepped closer to Twilight and, despite her attempts to move away, leaned so close their noses almost touched. “No, not because of your defeat—nothing makes me happier.” The changeling breathed in deeply. “So full of love… and it’s festering—unanswered, wasted.”
Twilight considered spitting in her adversary’s face, however, those words rendered her mind blank; not for long—icy cold claws of fear gripped her consciousness. For Queen Chrysalis there was no secret, no hiding from her hunger—she saw her feelings clearer than Twilight herself. Still, she tried to fight, even if weakly.
“You don’t know what you are talking about.”
The changeling queen smiled almost sadly, “I know the feeling better than anypony ever would.” Then her expression changed into a malicious grin. “So, who is that oblivious pony? Your secret shameful crush?”
Twilight did try to spit at her, but Chrysalis moved away already, the porous chitin scraping against the stone. A few seconds later she reappeared, looming over the five smaller cocoons.
“One of your friends, perhaps?” She laughed mockingly. “Afraid it wouldn’t go further than just friendship?” The light on the tip of her curved horn died. “No, not them.”
Her lean form materialized above two larger phlegm prisons, surrounded by a sickly halo. Beneath her, Cadance and Shining Armor squirmed in the shadow of their sworn enemy.
“Regardless of who it is, it would be equally disturbing.”
Seeing no reaction other than disgust fighting concern on the face of her captive, she moved away, casting the glow on the cocoon in the vicinity, a form of alabaster alicorn inside.
“Is it her? That would be so scandalous, so twisted.” Her eyes squinted as she saw Twilight clenching her jaw—close, but not it. The light shifted to another large dark form floating obliviously in the murky viscous liquid, “Maybe her sister?”
Suddenly, tears welled in Twilight’s eyes—they weren’t shed for Princess Luna; it wasn’t the crippling sorrow of defeat summoning them.
Starlight wasn’t amongst the captured.
As a fragile smile blossomed on her face, her jailer frowned.
“I see,” Chrysalis hissed, “Not here.”
Twilight didn’t listen to her, continuing smiling dumbly as moisture rolled down her cheeks—at least, Starlight was free and safe. The happiness was mixed with a tinge of regret of letting the important words unsaid; it grew stronger as her aching heart counted a beat after a beat, clenched by deep remorse.
Looking around through the haze of woe, Twilight couldn’t help but wonder if it was it—the situation seemed terminal. In moments like this, many things appearing to matter once became worthless; others—more important than ever.
The smile faded away from Twilight’s face as she realized she missed the most important one in the world.
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
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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Epilogue
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“Discord!”
“Your majesties.” When the draconequus turned to greet them, Celestia and Luna were met by a broad overly muscular torso cast in spandex, a red cape flapping behind it in a magic wind. “Did you come to bask in the presence of the noblest of heroes?”
Unimpressed by his antics, Luna was the first to speak. “It’s nothing but admirable that you find it in yourself to not ruin things in Equestria for once, but that’s not the only reason we wanted to talk with you.”
“Thank you for helping them be together,” Celestia quietly finished after her sister, bowing her head just a little.
But Discord only shrugged.
“I didn’t do a thing.”
The princesses looked at each other, then at Discord, an utter confusion clear on their muzzles.
“I told you I wouldn’t. And I didn’t.”
“It is unlike you to keep to the rules.” Celestia squinted at him. “Even if it was you who set them.”
“If I were to always break the rules, it would be just another kind of order.”
While the older sister ruminated on that statement, Luna came to a vastly different conclusion. Pointing an accusing hoof at the smirking draconequus, she exclaimed:
“Then you knew it would end this way all the time!”
Discord took a sudden interest in his claws and replied with an overplayed nonchalance, “Of course I did, I am a god after all.”
“I always suspected you can see the future,” Celestia commented almost absentmindedly, still not quite out of her musings.
“Do you want to know what happens next?” Luna readily picked up the idea only after a momentary hesitation, taking a step closer to Discord as her eyes lit up.
Celestia tugged her back, whispering, “They say it can drive a pony crazy to know their fate. How do we know it’s not one of his tricks?”
But, a pair of glasses perched on a tip of his muzzle, Discord already started prophesying, reading from a long timeworn parchment and making notes on it with a phoenix quill.
“I can see two mares, caught in the spirit of forbidden love, finally confessing their deep feelings to each other, sealing them with a no less deep kiss.” The princess looked around, at the ponies around, and frowned. “Then, right where they stand, their passion fueled by a millennium- long abstinence, they start to make love to each other, an innocent draconequus caught in alicorns’ sodomy–”
“Discord!” an angry yell came out in a chorus of two voices and the parchment was torn out of his claws, bursting in flames from one side and eaten by darkness from another.
“I’m done with your stupid jokes,” Luna harrumphed and promptly walked away, leaving her sister to deal with the Lord of Chaos.
She tried to reclaim possession of her writing utensil; as before it became ashes in her grasp, returning to its new master in doing so.
Grimacing, the alicorn muttered with a sigh, “I suppose it was naive you would use your abilities for anything constrictive, even if you could see the future indeed.”
Discord wiggled his eyebrows.
“You don’t need divination to see what happens between your former student and her former student. Only for you, my dear princess, a half-price discount for a ticket.”
“That’s disgusting, Discord,” Celestia wryly stated, regarding him with a level look. Then after glancing around to be sure nopony could hear, whispered, “How much for one?”
We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess
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