Chapters I hold the two bottles in my magic, giving each lid a twist.
From one, a round orange pill, my testosterone blocker. From the next, the little greenish tablets which have made my morning routine a lot more cheerful, my estrogen!
Or, as the brand name medication proudly proclaims, 'Equestrogen.' I groan at that, but even the terrible pun can’t dampen my mood. Each morning I take them I can’t help but smile like— Well, like a little filly!
The t-blocker I take with a sip of water, whilst the ‘Equestrogen’ sits under my tongue to dissolve. They leave a strange little aftertaste that I haven’t quite gotten used to yet, chalky and musty, yet also sort of sweet. Medicine sweet, not Pinkie pie sweet. I might mind it more, but the taste is a lasting reminder that I’m actually on hormones!
The idea that Estrogen is circulating through my body at that very moment is so wonderful! Not to mention fascinating! It’s amazing how substituting the levels of a couple chemicals can convince a pony’s body to extensively alter itself!
As I set down the bottles, and look into the mirror, my smile becomes more thoughtful. It can be… hard to define what I see when I look in the mirror.
I still just look like a stallion .
No. That thought is inaccurate. I still look like how I did before starting HRT. Which is to be expected, it hasn’t been nearly long enough for visible changes to occur.
I tilt my head up, inspecting my jawline.
It’s not bad per say.It’s definitely somewhat square, but I’ve never had the strongest jaw, thank goodness. Tilting my head back down, I inspect again. Honestly, just my new longer mane cut does a lot for the overall shape of my face. It still doesn’t scream mare, but it doesn’t scream colt either, and I’ll take the androgyny over how I used to present.
It’s… fine.
However, I’m now self aware enough to know that fine isn’t enough for me. I want to like how I look. Funny how shocking that idea was to me.
I’m not sure how I’ll actually get to that point, a thought that still fills me with dread. Hormones won’t do very much for facial structure. But I’ve seen how I look when Rarity does my makeup, so I know that I can look pretty.
Pinkie and Rainbow say my face is pretty all the time, so I suppose they’re entitled to that opinion as well.
As for the rest of my body. Well, I… actually kind of like it? The same features that made me, as Rainbow so colorfully put it, ‘Twinky’ as a stallion, actually make me look kinda cute in my own eyes!
I’m not incredibly lithe, but I am tall and don’t have a particularly big build. My academic career hasn’t given me too much incentive towards working out, and as a result my physique is somewhat… soft. Which is something I actually really appreciate, it eases some of my harder edges.
I’m not quite as soft or curvy as I’d like to be. But that is a change I actually am optimistic about! Wanting my body to be softer and curvier? Hormones replacement therapy can do that. Through the wonders of modern medical science, I can modify my own body and shift it closer towards what I want! Which, to put it lightly, is extremely exciting!
I’ve seen pictures of Fluttershy as a growing filly, and she really was just skin and bones. She’s still tall and slim, but after years of HRT she’s filled out considerably. The idea that I could be as beautiful as her one day is enough to put a hopeful smile on my face.
I’m genuinely unsure if I even want to be the most feminine looking mare around. I like looking cute, and I like looking pretty. And if I succeed at all that, it'll be more than enough for me to feel satisfied. Probably.
I give myself one more once over in the mirror. All in all, I’m doing pretty good.
Comparing that to where I started out, having positive things to say about my image in the mirror is an immense difference! And I remind myself of that often, both to make the waiting easier, and just because… liking myself is a nice habit to get into .
Mane already brushed, and my morning routine complete, I head out into the library. There isn’t much more packing to be done. I got a good head start last night, out of a sense of preparedness. Definitely not because I couldn’t sleep.
Well. Alright. Nerves may have been part of it.
I mean, who wouldn’t be nervous? I’ll be on a train to Canterlot this morning, and the Grand Galloping Gala is tomorrow! I honestly don't know whether ponies will see a mare when they look at me. Even putting aside my own insecurities, how am I supposed to predict how ponies will perceive me? I've never once understood how neurotypical ponies do that. That uncertainty certainly doesn't help things, which is why I'm putting so much effort into making things just right.
As I cast around for things I might have missed in my packing, my eyes land on the letter that’s been sitting on my desk for a while now. I’d been debating whether there was any reason to take it with me.
Like I often do, I pick it up and carefully unfurl the letter to look it over once more.
The three days it took for Celestia’s reply letter to appear was perhaps the most anxious period of waiting in my memory.
Looking over the elegant script, I read to myself.
My dearest and most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.
It delights me to hear of your self realization! Ever since moving to Ponyville, I have watched you bloom into the wonderful open hearted pony I always knew you could be, and this is but the latest step in that journey. I am so very grateful you would share it with me.
I must apologize for my long delay in sending this reply, it was not my intent to foster your anxiety these past few days. Instead, I must admit I did not quite understand what ‘Agender Trans Mare’ meant upon receiving your letter. I had to task Raven with finding me a more modern lexicon of transexual terms.
Over the centuries I have met many of those ones like you, whose true selves did not align with the norms of their cultures. But these new identity labels popular among the youths unfortunately passed me by!
I strive to make sure medical services are available to all my little ponies, but please let me know if there are any resources or recommendations you need. I know a great deal about the medical practitioners in and around Canterlot.
The Grand Galloping Gala is coming up soon, and it would be a wonderful chance to talk to you in person. I hope to see you and your friends there!
Since we won’t have the chance to speak in person for a little while yet, let me close my letter by saying this; I am very proud of you, and the ‘Agender Transgender Mare’ that you have become.
Sincerely, Princess Celestia.
The letter still makes me smile from ear to ear when I read it. The language was a bit stilted in places, but the Princess’s heart was obviously in the right place! Celestia doesn’t just accept me, she’s proud of me! It’s everything I could’ve hoped for. And now I get to spend the Gala catching up with my mentor, as the real me!
It’s going to be the best night ever!
And all I have to do to get there is come out to my parents, who haven't seen me in months and who could react in any number of ways, all of which I can't really predict!
Then present as a mare at the most esteemed social gathering in Equestria. For a whole night. In front of my mentor, the highest echelons of Canterlot society, and nearly every newspony in Equestria. And I have to do it while appearing elegant and collected and deserving of my personal tutoring.
Given that I am the personal student of the princess, said newsponies will likely broadcast the news of my transition in their papers for everypony in Equestria.
Yep. Easy .
I fold the letter back up, then slip it into my waiting saddlebag. I perk my ears up, and give my best attempt at a smile. “Best night ever, here I come."
I decided a while ago that I'd have to come out to my parents before the Gala. I’d be mortified if they found out I was a mare from some gossip rag instead of from me personally.
I'd just been waiting for the right time to do it.
And I waited, and waited a little bit more. And eventually I decided that I was going to Canterlot for the Gala anyway, and so why not save a trip and tell them then?
At the last possible moment…
It seemed reasonable to past me. But now that present me has to actually go do it, it seems much less so.
As I stare out the window of the morning train to Canterlot, the light seems too bright, the rumbling of the train too jarring, and the sounds of strangers around me too irritating. I don't particularly love travel anyway, I really don't love travel right before big events.
But there are some things that can make it better. Mainly, having friends by my side. Pinkie and Fluttershy both volunteered to come along to support me with my parents. Pinkie’s on the seat next to mine, while Fluttershy sits on the row across from us.
The others would’ve come along too, but they had prior commitments. Rainbow still had weather duty the morning of the gala, Rarity had orders to finish, and Applejack was working on getting her wares ready for the Gala up until the last minute. So they’d be arriving tomorrow night before the Gala, as originally planned.
I was a little sad not to have both of my… friends I kiss… coming with me. But in the end it isn’t all that different, they’re all my friends and we all care about each other. Plus, I’m honestly a little relieved I won’t have to worry about Rainbow Dash trying to fight my parents if things go wrong!
Not that things will go wrong. I’ve been trying my very best to think of anything besides things going wrong. They won’t go wrong.
I keep staring out the window.
Then Pinkie’s hoof wraps around my shoulder, and she leans in to nuzzle me. “Don’t worry Twi Twi!! Me and Fluttershy are here, which means everything’s going to be okie dokie!”
I glance at Fluttershy on the seat across from us. She smiles and gives a small nod. I’m glad to have Fluttershy here. She’s gone through the same things, and that makes me feel a lot more confident about what comes next.
But feeling how close Pinkie is, I blush a little under Fluttershy’s gaze.. I still haven’t told my other friends about me and Pinkie and Rainbow. I’m not hiding it! I’m just not telling it yet either.. . Not least of all because, well, what are we together? ‘Friends I kiss’ is not a sufficient or mutually agreed upon classification. If even I don’t have the words, how am I supposed to explain it to others?
Pinkie is touchy with all her friends, and I’m not sure if what she’s doing now looks any different from the outside. And if Fluttershy notices anything, she doesn’t say so. I’m not nearly good enough at reading facial expressions to guess at any hidden meaning.
Pinkie continues. “And, tomorrow we get to go to a big party! What’s better than that?”
I smile. Granted, the party aspect of the Grand Galloping Gala isn’t really what I’m excited about, but I am excited.
“The Gala will be like your big reward for being such a super brave amazing pony today!” Pinkie says.
“Yeah… Absolutely!” I say, smiling back at her. But as soon she looks away from me, I go right back to staring out the window.
From the distance the spires of Canterlot approach, moving faster and faster as winding lengths of train track slide behind us. I lean against Pinkie, and close my eyes.
I hope I canbe a brave pony today.
“Sooooo… Mom, Dad. Funny thing, really! I actually had something to tell you!” I say, smiling too widely, “I’m uh. I’m a girl now!” I raise my hooves up unsurely. “Surprise…?”
The lingering silence gives way to the sound of Pinkie Pie’s applause.
I look between the two ponies sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, nervously running a hoof through my mane. “Was that ok then?”
“I give that a seven out of ten!! Cause you’re so adorable when you get all awkward!” Pinkie says, nodding excitedly.
Fluttershy looks between Pinkie and me, blinking slightly.
I blush slightly at the complement, but deflate at the actual sentiment. “Ok, so it was as awkward as I thought it was. Great.” I say, and turn to the other member of my audience. “What did you think, Fluttershy?”
“Oh!” She scuffs a hoof on the bed. “It was nice. I think.”
I look at her flatly. “Can you maybe give me a teensy bit more to work with?”
“Well. Coming out to somepony is a very hard thing, so I don’t think it’s something I can really judge…”
“You’re the only one here who’s come out to their parents as transgender, Fluttershy.” I trot swiftly towards the bed. “You are literally the only pony here who can judge!” I throw my hooves up in the air.
Fluttershy makes a meeping noise and hides behind her mane. “Sorry.”
I frown at the sight, backing away a step. “No.” I look away, sighing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you just because I’m nervous.”
“It’s ok!” Fluttershy says hastily.
“Is it really? ” I raise an eyebrow.
“I uh. Believe me, I understand the nerves.” Fluttershy tucks a lock of her mane back behind her ears. “Though, um. I would prefer it if you didn’t speak loudly in my face anymore.”
I smile guiltily. “Of course, Fluttershy!” Turning towards Pinkie I ask, “And you’re ok too?”
“I’m okie dokie!” Pinkie is still smiling merrily. “This whole thing is, you know…” She taps her chin. “ …Knowing how other ponies will react to the things you do or say! I know I’m not very good at that!” She says enthusiastically.
Then she leans over to me and cups a hoof around my ear, looking around conspiratorially, before stage whispering, “I think it’s probably the autism! ”
I gently push her off, muzzle crinkling with a smile. “I know, Pinkie. Believe me, I can relate.”
Pinkie bounces back into her seat. “But that’s why I’m here for moral support instead!! I’m great at that!” Her smile grows sly. “Annnndddd~ If you maybe need it, party support? ” She looks up at me with puppy dog eyes.
I groan. “Pinkie. I already told you, we are not throwing a gender reveal party.”
Pinkie’s ears turn down. “Aww! But I never get to do those! Ponies always try to get me to throw them for babies, and I just don’t get it!”
Just then, the muffled sound of a faucet turning off comes from the hall, and Spike emerges from the bathroom holding his toothbrush. “So. Rehearsal number twenty one go any better than the last twenty?”
“I’ll have you know I’m making great progress!” I say, trying not to sound too snippy.
Spike says, “You should stop worrying so much, it’s mom and dad! You just gotta tell them.”
I look at him, and then at the ground. “It… It just isn’t that simple, ok?”
“I guess so.” Spike sighs. “You’ve already got like five big speeches written out, does stressing about every little thing you could say even help?
Pinkie is kicking her hooves off the side of the bed. “He has a point you know!” Spike’s chest puffed up at that, and Pinkie turns and says, “Right shy?”
Fluttershy’s eyes widen, and she looks around between them. “Um. Well. I do think… the last few tries have all been equally good. But I also think that, when you're scared about saying something, finding the right words can be very important.” She smiles slightly. “So I guess I’m neutral. If that’s ok?”
“It’s fine Fluttershy.” I reply, looking between the ponies and the dragon. “I get what you all mean. I’ll try to stop obsessing over my speech.”
“And you won’t be alone either! We’ll all be there to back you up!” Pinkie says, hopping to her hooves. Fluttershy quickly nods along.
Spike puts his claws on his hips in a determined pose. “Yeah! I just got a big sister, I’m not letting anything happen to her!”
My hooves go up to cover my muzzle, tears prickling at the backs of my eyes. “Oh Spike. ” I reach down and scoop him up into a squeezing hug.
“Twi-light! ” He complains.
I laugh softly. “It’s your fault for being so sweet!”
“Yeah yeah. ” He grumbles, looking away as I set him down.
I smile, then shut my eyes tight and take a deep breath before opening them. “Ok. Ok. I’ve got this. We’ve got this.”
Spike smiles triumphantly at my words. I walk over to my open suitcase and look it over, rubbing a hoof across my chin and staring hard
“But then, what do I wear? ” I spin around, grabbing articles of clothing in my magic. “If I dress too feminine, they’ll realize before I get the chance to tell them! But if I dress too masculine, they might not take me seriously when I do tell them!”
“I don’t think your wardrobe is going to be the deciding factor.” Spike says flatly.
“We don’t know that! ” I retort at Spike. There’s a soft sound at my side, but I’m focused on the conversation.
“When’s the last time dad even noticed what somepony was wearing, and when’s the last time mom cared?” As Spike speaks, the sound comes again, a voice, more forceful this time, but no louder.
“Well—” I start.
“Fluttershy has something to say!” Pinkie says at outdoor volume, pointing toward the pegasus. Me and Spike turn to stare.
Oh! I look at Fluttershy, realizing the soft sound had been her. I finally focus, giving her my attention.
Fluttershy smiles over at Pinkie. “Oh, Than—”
“No problem! I’m great at interrupting!” Pinkie interrupts.
Fluttershy waits for a beat, to make sure Pinkie won’t continue, and then says, “Thanks Pinkie…” She turns to me. “I think you should just wear your little hair clip. It’s the truest to how you normally dress. You shouldn’t have to dress up to earn anypony’s respect.” Fluttershy looks to the side. “Plus, um, you look very pretty just the way you are already.”
I only blush a little bit. I’m starting to get more used to ponies calling me pretty, as unimaginable as that seems to me. “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose that sounds… rational.” I sigh. “I’ll stop fretting about that too then. But I reserve the right to find other things to fret about!”
“Well that’s a given.” Spike says, smirking.
I trot over to my bag. Setting aside the other clothes, I root through it a moment, before pulling out the hair clip in my magic. Once it’s been clamped securely in place, I turn around and ask, “How do I look?”
“Lovely,” Fluttershy says.
Pinkie answers by bouncing in place, vibrating really. She picks up speed, practically humming. Then she releases all the momentum, pouncing toward me in a blur and wrapping me up in a big hug. “A super duper cutie!!!!! ” Pinkie says in a high pitched squeal. “That’s what you look like!” And then proceeds to nuzzle enthusiastically into my neck.
I squirm, giggling, only to look over Pinkie’s shoulder and see Fluttershy, who is very much still sitting there, staring at us. My embarrassment is crimson and immediate, I stiffen in Pinkie's hold.
Pinkie notices, taking it as a sign to stop her nuzzling, but still hangs off of me, smiling.
I do my best to look casual, as Fluttershy continues looking at us, lips pursed just slightly. “Time to go, would you look at that!” I say suddenly, trying to wriggle out from under Pinkie. Pinkie notices and happily hops off me.
I waste no time grabbing my saddlebags and walk briskly toward the door, Pinkie bouncing at my side. Fluttershy quickly rouses from her reverie, getting up to follow along with us.
The trip through Canterlot is a little nerve wracking. Every corner it feels like somepony I knew from my old home might jump out and accuse me of… something.
Going to ponyville and coming back a huge queer?
That fear doesn’t exactly seem realistic, becausedespite the assurances of being pretty from my friends, I don't really look like a mare.
Ok wait, that came out wrong. I’m really not trying to put myself down! I just mean that nothing about how I’m presenting is explicitly gender coded. I’m not wearing a dress, and I look fairly adrodgynous at a glance. There’s no reason for anypony who recognizes me on the street to think I’m anything but a moderately effeminate stallion.
The idea of everypony just magically knowing I’m a mare is appealing, But it’s also scary. This way feels safer, even if I don’t particularly like it. It’s at least something to soothe my worries of being clocked by Canterlot ponies I know.
Just one more thing I have to think about now.
It’s bizarre to think I used to just walk around taking everypony’s gender for granted. I hadn’t known what it was like to have to struggle to get ponies to see you a certain way. Now I’m painfully aware of what it’s like to live in a culture where ponies assume what you are by how they read your gender.
Well, perhaps I had always known, at least a little. I just ignored it, not knowing why I hadn’t wanted ponies assuming things about me.
But nopony calls out to me, accusatory or not, and we all make our trip without incident.
Coming back to my childhood home feels odd now. I’ve changed so much since I’d been there last, will I even fit anymore?
My childhood home’s street is a long line of houses all built in one solid row, but the width of the homes and their fenced in front lawns made them feel more separate than they truly are.
Right at the edge of the stone path leading up to my old home’s front door, my hooves stop moving. It’s abrupt enough that Spike bumps into me from behind. I breathe very deeply, in and out, suddenly rooted in place.
Maybe this isn’t a good time? It’d be better to do this later on, right? In a year, or maybe a couple years, when I have more experience, when I’m more sure of myself—
Spike walks around to my left, grabbing my attention when he squeezes my foreleg softly. He looks up at me and smiles. Pinkie comes over on my right, brushing against my coat and grinning at me. Fluttershy trots up beside Spike, giving me a gentle nod, and that’s what finally breaks me free.
I step down the path, knocking on the front door. There’s no immediate response, so I stand there, starting to fuss with my hair and wondering if I should knock again. Then a magenta aura very close to my own envelops the handle and the door swings outward.
A gray hoof reaches out and grabs me, and I have just enough time to see my mom’s face before being pulled into an embrace. Twilight Velvet wasn’t usually much of a hugger, but she makes an exception for her kids.
“Dusk dearie! Welcome home!” I wince. My mom has no way of knowing about my new name, but being called ‘Dusk’ again still makes me go limp in her arms.
“H-hey Mom.” I say, and if my mom notices my awkwardness, she doesn’t give any sign. Instead, she releases me with a little pat on the head and bends down to hug Spike.
“There’s my handsome little drake!” Mom says.
Spike blushes and squirms in the hug, trying to look grumpy but unable to be too mad. “Hehe, good to see you too Mom.”
She lets go of Spike and sets him down, before turning to Fluttershy and Pinkie with a polite smile. “Oh! You must be some of Dusk’s new friends, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person.”
Mom turns and sticks out a hoof to Pinkie, who shakes it enthusiastically and says, “Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie!!”
“Twilight Velvet, Dusk Shine’s mother.” She says in reply. I grimace lightly.
My mom turns to Fluttershy next, shaking her hoof as well. “Ah, uh, hello Misses Velvet. I’m…” Fluttershy trails off, hesitating.
“Fluttershy, right?” Mom raises an eyebrow.
“Oh! Yes.” Fluttershy looks relieved at the intervention.
“Nice to meet you as well dear.” Mom steps to the side and gestures. “Now come in, all of you now!”
We’re all led inside, past framed pictures of me and my brothers. My childhood home isn’t huge, or lavishly decorated, but everything inside shines with a simple elegance. Even dad’s fanciful star charts have been sequestered off into their own ordered sections.
“Now this really is exciting.” Mom starts talking as she walks ahead. “You know, Dusk talks about you girls all the time!” She looks back at me and quirks an eyebrow. “Not that he talks about you to me, mind you. I swear I wouldn’t know the first thing about my son’s life nowadays if I didn’t have my bi-weekly tea with Princess Celestia.”
My Mom’s son. I shut my eyes and exhale, feeling that familiar guilt. “Sorry Mom, you know how busy I get with my studies.” That really had been the reason, until a few months ago, when it had become a much more particular kind of avoidance.
“Oh I know I know, and I’m only bringing it up in front of your new friends so that they can remind you to write to your dear old mom more often, eh?”
My cheeks heat up. “Mom!”
“Yes yes, that’s my name, don’t wear it out dear.” My mom says, before peeking her head through a door frame and calling out. “Honey! Dusk and Spike are here with Dusk’s new friends!”
I glance back at my friends and see Fluttershy giving me a sympathetic look.
I take a turn into the living room, inclining my head for my friends to follow suit. It’s a familiar room, swathed in soft muted blues.
My mom comes back around the corner behind us, this time with my dad, Night Light, close behind.
“Hey! There’s my kiddos!” He says with his usual goofy grin.
“Hey Dad.” Me and Spike say simultaneously, Spike’s greeting being a little louder. I smile, stepping over to hug my dad. I’m just happy he’d used something non-gendered, instead of ‘boys’, his other favored term for addressing me and my brothers.
Dad pulls back, releasing me. “Now, how’s the star student and his number one assistant doing?”
The pronouns are easy enough to ignore. Almost. “I’ve been good.” I smile, thinking about my friends. “Really good actually. I’ve learned so much since I moved to Ponyville.”
“You’re telling me! Look at you, going around saving Equestria, and bringing friends home? ” My dad says as if those two things are equally astonishing. “Aw, I knew you had it in you! You always had your mothers smarts, but now that Light family charm is finally kicking in!” He pats me on the back.
“That must be it.” I roll my eyes, still smiling.
Dad kneels down to get closer to level with Spike. “And how about you little guy?”
“Not that little.” Spike says.
“My mistake! How about you, normal sized, very powerful guy?” Dad says.
Spike taps his chin. “Hm… Yeah that’s better.” He nods in satisfaction. “I’m doing good! I’ve been really busy helping Tw– Dusk! ” Spike catches himself.
“Glad to hear it!” Dad stands up and Spike shoots me an apologetic glance.
Glancing back at him, I shrug off the slip-up, trying not to be nervous myself.
Dad turns to my friends standing behind me, stepping up. “You two must be Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie, nice to meet you! Names’ Night Light, welcome to our humble abode!”
“Yippee!! Glad to be here!” Pinkie says.
“Ah, thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.” Fluttershy says politely.
Spike waddles to the couch, jumping onto his favorite spot. My parents sit down in the paired chairs opposite the couch.
I take that as my cue, sitting down next to Spike. Only to bounce back into the air as Pinkie leaps onto the seat next to me. I almost topple over, but Pinkie steadies me with a hoof, giggling apologetically.
Fluttershy stands for a moment, looking around, before finally settling on the sofa chair next to the couch.
Dad turns toward Pinkie. “Glad you’re enjoying the new upholstery! We haven’t had anyone to bounce on them since all the little rascals moved out!”
“Un-bounced cushions?” Pinkie's eyes go wide with concern, “Tell me they’ve at least been used for pillow forts!”
My dad shakes his head gravely. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh no!!!!!” Pinkie says in horror, before scrunching her face in determination. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I bounce on them every time I visit!”
Dad schools his expression into seriousness. “You sure you can handle that kind of responsibility?” He raises an eyebrow.
“You can count on me, Mr. Light sir!” Pinkie salutes.
Dad rubs his chin. “I may have just met you, but I’ve got a good feeling! I’ll hold you to that, then!”
“Honey.” Mom says from his side, looking less amused.“Are you telling our guest to jump all over our new couch every single time she visits?”
“Uh.” Dad looks to Mom and then back at Pinkie. “I’ll hold you to that, as long as Twilight says it’s ok. ” He adds.
“Ok! I can’t see any potential loopholes in that deal!” Pinkie says enthusiastically, then throws a quick wink my way.
Dad finally cracks a smile, then bursts out into a hearty laugh. He slaps a hoof against his knee as his laughter peters out. He turns to me, grinning. “I like your friend, Dusk!
Heh, I should’ve known Pinkie and Dad would hit it off. The idea is only slightly terrifying.
Mom looks slightly exasperated, but smiles. Then turns her gaze to me. Looking me over, she speaks up. “Hm, you’ve really grown your mane out dear.”
“Ah. Yes!” I respond cautiously.
“I’m glad you're finally styling it! It looks good!” My mom nods at me.
“Oh!” I grin bashfully, probably more surprised than I should be. “Thank you!” I brush a lock of my mane behind my ear, immediately hyper aware of how femme the gesture is. But my parents have seen me acting vaguely gender nonconforming my whole life, and I honestly don’t think they’ll find it odd.
Looking for a change of topic, I take another look around the room, searching. Huh. “So, where’s my brother?” I ask expectantly.
“Unfortunately he couldn’t make it.” Dad says. “You know how busy he is nowadays”
My ears drop down. “Oh, ok.” I had wanted to tell my whole family at once, before the Gala.
“Sorry dear, your letter was on short notice.” Mom chimes in.
“No, that’s true, it’s alright.” I might not get to tell Shining Armor, but on the bright side, that’s one less pony to come out to at once.
“Wait, your brother?” Pinkie picks up Spike, who makes a short noise of protest, and holds him up. “But Spike’s right here!”
“Hah! No no, Dusk’s birth sibling Shining Armor.”
“Wait. You have another brother?!”
“I— Yes?” I look around at my friends. “Haven’t I mentioned him before? My older brother?”
“Noperoonie!” Pinkie says. ”Not even a little!”
“Oh, um. I hadn’t heard about him either. But I suppose it isn’t too surprising, really. I know I don’t talk about my brother much.” Fluttershy says ruefully, with a far away look in her eyes, before shaking her head and smiling at my parents. “But that’s part of why it’s so nice to be here! We’re getting to know our dear friend’s family better.”
Pinkie grins at that, nodding.
Fluttershy and Pinkie are still avoiding gendering me to my parents. I appreciate it. Avoiding my old name is thoughtful, but unnecessary in this context, it doesn’t bother me too bad.
Either way, once I come out, it won’t be an issue anymore.
“Oh you girls are too sweet.” My mom says. “I’m just so glad Dusk found a nice group of mares like you who accept him.” She gives Fluttershy what I think is a knowing look “You know, Dusk’s always fit in better with fillies than with colts his own age.”
I look down, flushing. She isn’t wrong, but…
Fluttershy’s smile strains awkwardly. “That… doesn’t exactly surprise me.”
I stare hard down at the carpet. My gut twists up. I probably just look like I’m pouting. They’re already talking about me being different from other colts. That’s a good segue, so it's time to go through with it, right?
It’ll have to be, because the roiling in my gut is just getting worse. I don’t know if the anticipation really is worse than the event, but either way I don’t think I can stand the anticipation much longer.
My mom replies to Fluttershy. “Oh? I suppose not! You girls must know Dusk very well by now!”
“Yeah! And the more we know, the more there is to love!!” Pinkie says.
I’m still looking down, a sure sign to my parents that I’m feeling overwhelmed. I need to do something before they ask about it.
“Truly though, I can’t say how grateful I am that Dusk found you. I think it’s the most he’s ever connected with ponies outside of family or the Princess.”
Before either of my friends can reply. I finally pull my head up. “Uh, Mom, Dad.”
“Yeah kiddo?” Dad says.
“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” My forelegs wrap around my stomach to stifle the buzz boiling inside. “It’s…”
My words catch, stuck. I stare at both my parents' curious, slightly concerned expressions.
Is… Is going through this really worth it? Or am I just obsessing over a bunch of unimportant stuff like I usually do? I’m being unreasonable asking everypony to just go along with it. Asking everypony I’ve known to change how they think of me. Especially since I don’t even look like a mare anyway. Who could blame them if they don’t get it?
Wouldn’t it be easier to just drop this and stop being so dramatic? I wouldn’t have to come out to my parents, or my brother, or all of Equestria. I wouldn’t have to go to the Gala. I could go back and hide inside myself again.
But even as I ask myself the question, I know my answer.
There’s no way to force myself to forget what it feels like to love yourself. I’d always know about the vibrant world that was just out of reach. Going back would be like willingly suffocating myself, the absence would hollow me out inside.
“Mom. Dad.” I look between them, not willing to shy away. The world recedes away from me, my pounding heart forming a fuzzy edge to my vision as my world narrows down to my parents and their every little movement.
Feeling slightly outside myself I say, “I’m a mare. I’m transgender.”
“I’m a mare. I’m transgender,” I say.
Twilight Velvet looks at me with an opaque expression, face frozen. Night Light’s eyes widen, and he glances around for a moment, seemingly confused, before staring back at me.
My dad is the first to break the silence. “You… are?”
Great start.
I nod, but the motion feels floaty. The pause lingers, until I realize I have no idea how long I’ve been staring silently. I really ought to speak.
All the words I prepared have floated away, I just answer my dad’s question instead. “Y-yes, I’ve decided I’m not a colt. I use she instead of he now. I’m…” I swallow. “Your daughter.”
I wasn’t about to get into the finer details of my gender with my parents. I would let them get used to the gender basics before I brought up being an agender trans mare.
Pinkie leans in close to me. In face of my parents' bewilderment, Pinkie is a beaming beacon of joy. “Mhm!!! We’re super excited for her!”
Fluttershy nods along, then smiles. “Your daughter is our dear friend, and we’re happy to be here supporting her as she comes out.”
“Our daughter. Huh.” Dad says. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that, tell ya the truth!” Dad chuckles awkwardly. “That’s uh… Thanks for telling us, of course!”
Mom’s brows are furrowed. “Yes dear, thank you for coming to us, you know you can talk to us about anything. We’ll still love you just the same.”
Ok, ok. That’s… something! They haven’t technically given any actual opinions yet, but that’s a good start!
“I’m just… surprised is all,” My mom continues, “are you really sure about this Dusk?”
My skin prickles defensively, but I let the reaction pass.. That question wasn’t necessarily bad. “Yes, I am. In fact I… I’m going by a different name now.”
“Oh?” My mom says, sounding genuinely curious.
A spark runs up my spine. I’m telling my parents who I am. I take a breath, nervous but smiling, and say, “Twilight Sparkle.”
The words roll out, and I've put all my hope in them.
Dad’s eyebrows shoot up, mouth hanging slightly open. “That’s interesting.”
A skeptically furrowed brow is all I get from my mom. Not the response I was hoping for. She finally speaks up, “Won’t that… get confusing?”
“Well, uh. M-maybe at first! But it’s— It’s who I want to be.” All the emotion I’m trying to express gets backed up in my throat. “Do you… not like it?
Spike looks between me and our parents, a little more nervous than before. Dad is looking unsure, waiting for Mom’s response.
My mom softens her expression a bit. “No, no, it’s lovely. I’m flattered you chose the family name…”
Now I raise an eyebrow. “But…?”
“I’m just confused. This seems like it’s coming out of nowhere!” she says, holding her hooves spread out in front of her.
I stare flatly. “Mom, just five minutes ago you were talking about how I always fit in better with fillies than with colts my own age.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re a mare, that’s an arbitrary connection. You were just a sensitive colt, is all,” Mom says, waving it off with a hoof.
“Oh come on. Even I knew my big ‘brother,’” Spike puts brother in air quotes, “was never a normal dude.”
“Well yes, Spike,” Mom replies. “But that doesn’t mean he was secretly a girl. Gender isn’t based on silly sexist stereotypes.”
“She,” Spike corrects, folding his arms.
I cringe internally. It’s touching seeing him correct pronouns for me, but I also don’t like seeing him upset at Mom on my behalf. “It’s ok Spike, I only just told her a moment ago. They’ll get it.”
He relents, relaxing his posture.
Mom gives me a wan smile, then turns to Spike. “Right, She.” I strain to parse what my mom is thinking from her voice, but it was a dry and factual statement.
I freeze as my mom's gaze falls back onto me, looking at the scene from slightly beside myself. I don’t want to be afraid of my parents. I want to believe in them, to be totally confident that everything will be fine. I’m not normally afraid of my parents, but I am now. I’m afraid of disappointing them, afraid of what would happen if they’re never able to understand me.
My mom's voice pierces through the slight disconnect between me and my body, words coming in clear, though my heart is still racing.
She says "But Du—" My mom gets out the first syllable before changing the word midway through. "—Dear, we never forced you into being a colt. We never forced you to do colt things, or play with colt toys.”
“And I didn’t always,” I say, thinking of Smarty Pants.
“No, you didn’t. So if were really transgender this whole time, why didn’t you ever say you felt like a girl, or ask us about it?” Mom asks, brows furrowed.
It was a question I’ve asked myself more than a few times before. And just like when I asked it to myself, it felt like an accusation. It dredges up the dread from my gut. Why didn’t I ?
“Well…” I want a solid answer to give them, something convincing and definitive. But all I have are the lingering questions that drip along the edges of my mind. “I… I don’t know.”
“That’s what I just don’t understand about it,” My mom continues. “I don’t think we knew our son that poorly.”
“I’m not saying that— I—" I clench my jaw shut, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I breathe in and out to keep them from falling. If I start crying, my parents will get concerned , and that will escalate things, and they'll want an explanation for it. And I’m not sure I could give that explanation without crying even more. So I just keep breathing, trying to calm down while aware my parents are watching every bit of this.
My tunnel vision is interrupted when Fluttershy gently places a hoof over mine. The contact brings me back into my body, shorting out the mental loop. Fluttershy smiles at me, then looks at my parents and speaks up, “Um. I’m sorry, but that isn’t quite right.”
Fluttershy’s voice takes on a soft but confident tone as she starts explaining, “It’s a myth that trans ponies always know from a young age. Everypony has a different journey of discovering their gender. A lot of time, foals don’t have the words or context to make sense of their feelings. They might feel wrong, but not know the reason why.”
Listening to Fluttershy gives me a chance to catch my breath. It was such a relief that I didn’t have to explain this all by myself. Hearing Fluttershy speak gives me more confidence in speaking my own thoughts.
As Fluttershy comes to a pause, I continue, “Yes. I didn’t know I was a filly. But I always did feel out of place. I always felt like ponies were trying to fit me under a label I didn’t like. But I didn’t know there was any other option, I thought I had to be a colt.”
“But why?We never taught you that,” Mom says, sounding bewildered.
“You didn’t, not necessarily…” I say, “But every single day, my teachers, my classmates, all the books I read, they all told me I was a colt.” Some of that old hopelessness is reflected in my voice. This I do recall with clarity. “You didn’t have to force me to be a colt, you just had to… not tell me there was another way.”
Mom’s frowning, brows shifted up with distress. “We couldn’t have known you felt that way! We didn’t know we needed to teach you that.”
“I’m not trying to blame you.” The hurt in my voice isn’t directed toward them. I could wish for something different, but they had only acted on the information they had at the time. “Neither of us knew. You two weren’t taught it any more than I was. It’s a— it’s a cultural issue.”
“Mm.” My mom hums, taking that in. “Still, I don’t know if jumping into being a mare is the best solution dear. Can’t you just be a feminine colt? You can be feminine without being a mare.”
“This isn’t just about being ‘feminine.’ It’s more complicated than that. I tried just being a feminine stallion. This started months ago, and that was the first thing I did,” I say, “and yeah it was… better? But it still didn’t feel good, it just felt less bad. I only liked myself in spite of being a stallion. Until my friends told me, I never even knew your gender was something you were supposed to enjoy! I just thought everypony kind of… hated it? And they just never brought that up because they didn’t like being reminded of it!”
“Dear, that sounds horrible, why would you think that?” My mom asks, leaning in.
The answer isn’t that complicated, actually. “Because that's how I felt all the time."
"Ah," my mom says softly, nodding slightly, and I know she got it.
That’s the first thing in the conversation so far that’s just clicked for my mom, and I’m glad I don’t have to keep explaining that.
I look between my parents. "Mom, Dad. You have to trust me about this. You found out about it ten minutes ago. I’ve been thinking about this for months, years . I know what I'm feeling."
“Al… Alright dear. I do believe you. I do! You know how you feel better than I do, and I know you’re no liar…” my mom says.
“You’d know better than me, but that sounds hard.” My dad is sitting back, eyebrows creased and concerned frown on his muzzle. “I never knew you felt that way son.”
I sigh. “Dad, please don’t call me that.”
“Call you what?” he asks, confused.
“Son ,” I say, stressing the word.
“Oh, Ah! I see.” Dad rubs the back of his neck with a hoof. “I mean we’ve called you our son your whole life, that’s kind of a hard habit to break.”
“That… might be ,” I say diplomatically, “But…”
I almost let myself say ‘but I’d really appreciate it if you’d call me your daughter.’ It felt softer, safer, less likely to cause a fuss. But calling me their daughter is not a request, not really, and it wouldn’t do either side any good to pretend it was.
My voice starts again, “but, that term is no longer accurate, it just isn’t true. I’m your daughter, and that’s what you should call me.”
“I mean I’ll try! I said I would. I’m not trying to doubt you. I guess… I just don’t really understand why it matters to you so much.” His voice is plain confusion, curiosity.
“That’s fair. You aren’t me, after all.” I look to the side. Then I bring my gaze back up to my dad with a slight smile. “I mean, it’s a lot of things, right? Language has a lot of power. It’s a sign of respect, that you acknowledge who I am. it just sounds right to me, it communicates how I want to live, how I already am living.”
My dad takes a breath, putting his hooves together. “Ok. That… Promise I’m not being intentionally obtuse here kiddo. I just want to understand this thing that’s important to you that I never knew about before. My question is… Why is that what you want? Why do you wanna be a mare? What’s making you go through all this trouble? I don’t know why you’d want to be something other than what you are. What’s even the difference?”
“I mean. Beside all the discontent I felt. I want to be a mare… because I like it. It’s really as simple as that. I could go on and on about how it feels for me, but that’s all subjective. Dig down deep enough, and I can’t tell you why I want to be this way. I just know I do.” I’m not as bothered by that subjectivity as much as I thought I’d be. “A betterquestion might be ‘why not?’ If it makes me happy, why shouldn’t I do it? Changing your gender doesn’t cause any harm. It should be something anypony can do if they want.”
My dad gives a chagrined smile. "Well, I still don't think I get it. But I think I'm starting to understand why it's important to you. Of course we want you to be happy. I'll try with the pronouns and... all that stuff."
“It really isn't that hard to figure out,” Spike says, clearly enjoying being more ‘educated’ on the topic than our parents. “She’s my big sis now, but like, it’s not a huge deal.” Spike shrugged.
I consider that, and then interject, “I mean, maybe it’s a little bit of a deal. It isn’t an unimportant thing." My parents both just looked a little confused now. I continue, "or at least it doesn’t have to be! For some ponies it’s pretty significant. You know, just, not in a bad way! You know, if there were no reaction that could be disappointing too. Obviously that isn't the situation here...”
Spike gives a gesture telling me to cut it.
I sigh. "Right, semantics. That was nitpicking, don't worry about it."
My dad laughs, a genuinely mirthful one. "Well, nice to know that hasn't changed!"
"See?" Spike offered. "She’s still the same nerd she always was, she just seems to have more fun with it now."
I furrow my brows at that, but still end up smiling. "Yeah, I really do," I say, a little wistfully.
My mom’s smiling, but still seems a little tense. "Dear, do you know what your plans are, as far as all this?"
I clear my throat. "Well, the reason I’m telling you today is that… I'm going to the gala as me. Rarity made me this... Incredibly beautiful dress," I say, starry eyed.
"Oh." Mom’s mouth forms a little ‘o.’ “You're... going to the gala as a mare?”
"Mhm!" I say.
"Don't you... think that's moving a little fast?” My mom hesitates. “I mean, telling the ponies close to you is one thing, But all of Equestria's upper crust? And the reporters? They might not be so supportive! And once that information is out, that's permanent."
"I mean, permanent is kind of the point,” I say, giving a faint smile. “That’s why I made sure to tell my family first, everypony I care about already knows and supports me. What everypony else thinks is irrelevant, I can get through it.” I only exaggerate my confidence a little for that last part. “And besides, it’s not like hiding it would be all that feasible forever, I’m already on hormones.”
“You’re what? ” Mom shoots up straight, looking startled.
“I… started hormone replacement therapy?” I restate, confusion and dismay creeping into my voice.
Her brow furrows. “Since when?”
I try to look positive. “It’s been about three weeks now.”
“But that’s so fast!” My mom’s voice pitches up.
“I mean– I’ve known I was trans for months now. And I’ve done a lot of experimenting with my presentation.”
Mom frowns as I say ‘months,’ but asks, “Isn’t that still too soon?”
“Not necessarily?” I say quickly. “Every transition is paced differently, but I feel like that’s a fairly reasonable length of time.”
Mom makes a thinking noise, and looks at me intently. “What else are you planning on having done?”
“Well, I—” This was not part of my script. Discussing the detailed nuances of my medical transition plans with my mom was not part of my script. Perhaps it should have been.
Pinkie squeezes my hoof. “You don’t have to tell her any of that just cause she’s your mom, Twily. That can be private.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind talking about it.” It’s fine.
I start listing things off. “Well, like I said I’m on hormones. And I have a list of BATTs treatments I’m looking into pursuing.”
“The treatments that permanently change your body?!” Mom says, aghast.
Hearing my mom say it in that tone of voice instantly makes shame pool in my gut, though I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be ashamed of here. “Yes. That’s the point. ”
She knits her brow. “And that’s it? You’re not going to get the surgery?”
“The surgery? Seriously? I—“ I pause, looking down to my left side at Spike and frowning. I restart my sentence, “If— if we’re going to talk about that stuff, I’d rather not do it in front of Spike.”
“Well, that we can fix, if you’ll do us a favor, Spike,” Dad says, warm but not quite jovial, “could you go up to your old room for a minute while we talk?”
Spike looks at Dad, then hops down from the couch and turns to me. “Come on, I can totally follow along!”
“Mostly yes, but that isn’t why, really. I just want some time to talk privately, alright?”
Spike glances around unsurely, looking at me. “You’re sure?” He droops, disappointed.
I reach down and put a hoof on his shoulder. “You’ve done a great job supporting me today, and it’s already really helped. You’re the best little brother I could ask for, so don’t feel bad ok? I’ll be fine.”
Spike scrunches his face at me for a moment, then stands up straight. “Alright,” he says, and patters toward the doorway before turning around, “but just call me if you need me, ok?”
“Of course, Spike,” I say.
“Thank you dear!” Mom says toward Spike. “We appreciate it.”
Spike nods toward us, and then starts up the staircase. We watch him disappear upstairs, waiting until we hear the faint click of a door.
Mom is looking at me, mouth set in a tense line.
“Right,” I say, smiling nervously. “So, I don’t know if I’m eventually getting bottom surgery.I could , but I’m not planning on it right now.”
“Meaning you might? ” Mom asks, emphasizing the question.
“Meaning it's possible I could.” I furrow my brow skeptically. “Why does it matter to you so much?”
“Because I’m concerned for you! It’s fine to experiment, but you’re getting wrapped up in things.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” My voice pitches, scared, and getting frustrated now. “You’re fine with having a daughter. But deciding to give myself teats is where you draw the line?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t transition! I just think you should take time to be sure about what you’re doing here. All that other stuff is temporary! But changing your body…”
“It’s not temporary. None of this is going to go away. This is my life, ” I say it confidently, but when arguing with my mom, it’s hard not to feel like a stubborn teenager.
“Fine, not temporary . Forgive my inexact wording, clearly that’s what’s important here. What I mean is that stuff isn’t permanent, it’s easy to change your mind!” Mom says, pacing her words carefully, “I’m glad you’re exploring your identity, but this is serious stuff! I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret for the rest of your life!”
“I don’t understand why you think I’ll regret it,” I say, searching her face.
“I don’t know if you will or won’t regret it, but you can’t deny that you might, ” She says.
I look at her incredulously and sputter, she’s technically correct, but that isn’t really the point.
My dad looks between us and interjects, “I’m not as concerned about hormones and such as your mother, but I think it’s reasonable to have concerns. This is a big change after all.”
Now I look at my dad. I thought things had been going really well. But apparently it’s more complicated than I thought.
I’m not sure concerns about this are reasonable. Questions, yes. Of course they would want to understand this! But I don’t think your child transitioning is itself cause for concern. Now how do I tell them that without sounding hostile, or condescending?
“I know it all seems so big and immediate when you’re young, but why can’t you just take some more time to think about this?” my mom says, in her most diplomatically persuasive voice.
My breath is growing hurried. “Because– Because I already regret– This.” I gesture to myself, my body. My voice turns pained, “I regret the feeling of helplessness I had for years growing up. Every passing moment my body was changing more and more into something that wasn’t me. And I didn’t know why , or how to stop it!”
My mom looks at me and does something I didn’t expect, bursts into tears. Her shoulders hunch with a sob.
Dad looks less surprised than me, but still concerned, putting a hoof on her shoulder.
“Mom?” Did I do that by accident? Seeing my mom cry always makes my chest go tight. I’d been paying attention to what she was saying, and not tracking her emotions. I hadn’t seen the tension building up in her. That might’ve been useful, but it’s hard to do both at once. “Why… why are you crying?”
“I just don’t know what I did wrong,” she says, horror in her voice, “I never thought I raised you to hate your body.” The last words come out with a sob.
Shame and embarrassment flood my veins. My concern recedes, anger churning in its place. So what, I wouldn’t be trans if she’d raised me better? My dysphoria is some accidental failing?
“You didn’t… raise me wrong , that’s ridiculous!” Of all the things, I never thought that my physical transition would be what set one of my parents off. It barely entered my radar. “I don’t understand. I told Celestia, and she was so supportive of me in her letter! She even offered to help me access medical resources.”
“I wish I could say I was surprised that you told her first, but I know you well enough,” Mom says, voice raw and tears in the corners of her eyes. “I’m glad she was supportive, but don’t try pitting me against Celestia, that’s low.”
I cringe at that. I had somewhat hoped the authority would give Mom pause, but I should’ve known better. ‘But Princess Celestia said so!’ is not an excuse that has ever flown in this household.
“I’m… not trying to pit you against her, I just don’t understand why you’re so upset, when she was fine. She didn’t think anything had gone wrong! Do you think that the Princess is wrong?”
“I think Princess Celestia is doing what she should. She’s your teacher, It wouldn’t be appropriate for her to try and interfere with your personal identity issues,” my mom says.
I say, “She wasn’t avoiding the topic to be ‘appropriate,’ she was supportive, actually supportive of my choice! She was happy for me!” She was. She was.
Celestia wasn’t just being polite, right? She said she was proud of me, she wouldn’t just say that if she didn’t mean it, if she disapproved …
I try to shake the doubts out of my head.
Mom looks at me confidently. “Celestia is not your mother. I am. And as your mother, being supportive means it’s my job to look out for you in all the different aspects of life, and make sure you’re thinking through your choices properly.”
“I am thinking things through! I’ve been thinking on this longer than you ever have, or ever will! This isn’t about you!” I halt, hearing my own voice raising further. I hate yelling at my mom. I hate how deep my voice sounds when I do. I hate that any of this is happening.
But what am I supposed to do? Give up, keep quiet? This is what’s true, this is what’s right. Backing down from that isn’t in my nature.
“And I’m not supposed to feel anything about this?!” Backing down isn’t in my mother’s nature either. “My child is talking about cutting his dick off!”
The world heaves upward, incandescent.
I share myself, the scared, sacred parts of myself, and that’s what it gets reduced to?
The layers of cold fire in my chest pulse, rolling outwards and escaping my confines.
I thought she was starting to understand me, I thought things were going to be ok. Then she talks about what I am, about what I might do, with horror and fear in her voice. Names me, names my body as her son. Talks about my body with the same words uttered by ponies who are disgusted by trans ponies, by who I am.
How– How could she– I–
Every fragmented wisp of me bounces off the walls, I’m absolutely numb and yet I feel everything. The pain radiating through me is like sharp ice cracking apart.
No, not ice. It’s wood splintering. A picture frame hitting the ground, the clatter of cabinets rattling, the hollow thud of the coffee table slamming back down onto the hardwood.
The incandescent white fades from my vision, and I blink. The room is in disarray, all the furniture shoved out of place, glass glinting in fragments across broken picture frames.
I notice the energy surging through me, magic and bright light still spilling from my horn. Reflexively, I turn my magic around, weave it back into myself. The energy flows back through me, instead of venting to the outside.
My horn cuts out. My mane slowly settles down back around me as the arcane charge in the air dissipates.
Tears are running down my cheeks. My head hurts. Did… I just have a magic flare ?
But I haven’t had one since I was a tween! I cannot believe I just had a magic flare in my parents living room.
I look around at the shocked faces of the ponies around me. Dad is glued to his seat, while Mom has a hoof covering her mouth.
Fluttershy is hidden behind her mane, pressed up into her chair. While Pinkie just stares at me with her mouth slightly open.
“Dear, are you alright?” Mom asks, take a small step forward.
“N-no!” The rawness of my voice surprises me, even though I’m still crying. “I– What you said really hurt!”
“Are we really still going to do this? You just had a flare dear, I didn’t think you still had those! You really think having a meltdown is the right way to talk about this?” my mom asks, eyes wide with apprehension.
“I don’t– I haven’t been having them, before right now…” I say.
I see Pinkie lean towards me uncertainly, and she speaks in a hushed tone, “Twily… That was a liiiiiiiiittle scary!” Her voice is nervous, but she doesn’t seem scared of me . I think. “It’s ok if you need to take break, it doesn’t mean you’ve given up.” She puts a hoof on my foreleg.
“Thank you, Pinkie. But magic flare or no, I– I am fully capable of arti –ticulating my thoughts even while upset,” my words stumble over tears, but all that truly does is slow me down. My body’s attempts to express these emotions is more of an annoyance than anything.
As for the magic flare, that won’t happen again. One is anomalous, another the same day is beyond the pale of plausibility. It wasn’t even a particularly bad flare. And I won’t allow it to happen again anyway, so it’s fine .
I smile through the tears at Pinkie. “S-sorry you had to see that, but I want to keep going, really.” Pinkie nods, but still looks concerned. She settles on rubbing my foreleg comfortingly.
I turn back towards my mom. “I’m sorry I had a flare, you know it isn’t on purpose. But I–I’m not done talking about this. The flare didn’t come from nowhere, that was not okay, it was r-really hurtful!” my voice fragments at the end, but I got it out.
Mom’s mouth sets in a tense line, eyes shining. “I’m not trying to hurt you! ” Her voice breaks, tears falling. “I just want to keep my baby safe!”
That’s– I’m not–
“I– I know you’re not trying to hurt me. I don’t think that about you!” I breathe unsteadily. “But I don’t care how scared you are, you do not talk about my body that way! Frankly, the state of my genitals are not your business.”
I sniff, regretting how much of a mess I am. But it’s not going to stop me from saying what I need to say. A removed, analytical part of me is still able to string meaning together. “Even more than that, it hurts hearing you talk about my transition as if it’s some scary thing you need to warn me away from! I need you to listen to me, really listen to me!”
“I am listening! I thought we were here to discuss this!” she says, sounding at a loss.
“Discuss, not debate. The reason I’m talking to you about this is because I love you, and I want you to understand me. This is not your chance to change my mind. I know who I am, and nopony else gets to decide that.” The words are scary, but they feel right to say.
“I know it isn’t my decision, you’re a grown pony. But as your mother I have to at least say something!” my mom says, voice raw and eyes wide with fear. “How can you know you aren’t making a huge mistake?”
“I don’t! ” I say sharply. It seems to get Mom’s attention, because she stops to listen. “I don’t know for sure,” I say, softer this time, but with conviction entering my teary voice. It’s that subtle little spark that appears when I know the exact right answer to an essay question, or more recently, the exact right friendship speech. “This isn’t about knowing the correct answer . It’s about doing what makes me happy.” Tears pool in the corners of my eyes. “And I am happy! These past months have been the happiest I can remember since I was a foal. I can’t describe how wonderful it is to let myself be who I want to be. ”And it’s true, even being an emotional wreck right now, the idea of it still makes me happy, still makes a genuinely hopeful smile appear on my muzzle.
“It’s like friendship,” I say, “gender doesn’t have rules or an objective rubric. I think that’s why I had such a hard time at first. It’s been difficult learning to listen to my heart after I spent so long ignoring it, but that iswhat I’ve been learning in Ponyville.” I look to Pinkie and Fluttershy, smiling at them. Pinkie has an encouraging grin, Fluttershy smiles back while on the verge of crying herself.
I turn back to my mom, holding myself with gentle determination. “All those times as a foal that you tried to get me to put myself out there… I know now you were trying to get me to open my heart up to the world.” I give a shuddering breath, heavy with tears.
“And now It’s open. It’s not fair to disagree just because you didn’t expect what came out. I— I want you to be proud of me, Mom. For what I’ve done, for who I am.” I want her to hear me, I want to be on the same side again. I just know that if I can show her this is a good thing, then she’ll adapt.
“I know things you can’t measure are hard for you too. I know it’s scary. But I’m not afraid of it anymore. Or at least, I don’t want to be.” I relax my posture, putting my hooves over my chest. “ I’ll follow my heart wherever it leads, even if the destination changes.”
Mom is quiet for a long moment, looking at me curiously. Finally she speaks up, "I've heard you argue about many things over the years… but I’ve never heard you talk about yourself so passionately.”
"For the first time in a long time, I love myself, Mom." My eyes fill with tears as I speak. It was true, and it hurt to say it, but it was true and it was good. “That’s precious to me.”
My mom was already crying, but her expression crumbled as a gentle reverant appraisal broke over the terror in my mother’s face. “Oh, baby…” She moves over toward me, extending her hooves out.
My body is still coursing with adrenaline, and I accept the hug clumsily. A rigid part of me wants to refuse the hug until things are settled, until I know we aren’t fighting anymore and can let down my walls without fear. But I believe in my mom, want to believe in her, that she’ll help make things ok.
“Of course I don’t want you to give that up,” her head presses over my shoulder while she squeezes me, her voice soft but insistent. “If it’s that important to you, I’d never tell you to give it up. I don’t care what your gender is, what matters is that you’re happy! As long as you are happy.”
I feel her weight shift as she looks over my shoulder at Pinkie and Fluttershy, before she lowers her head back down. “And it seems like you are.”
I feel her breathe out. “It hurts to hear how much pain you were in, makes me feel like I failed,” she says.
I hadn’t thought my parents were the sort that viewed their foals as an extension of themselves. But I suppose that in some way, my mom saw raising me as an accomplishment, an objective. And my mom didn’t like feeling as if she'd done something important poorly. Me and my mom share that trait. “It’s… It’s not about that, Mom.”
“I suppose not. That’s just my pride talking.” My mom sighs. “You really have grown so much while I wasn’t there to see it” She takes a deep shuddering breath as she crumbles, squeezing harder. “I am proud of you. I always have been. Always. ” Her voice cracks as I feel hot tears on my shoulder.
She pulls back until the two of us are facing each other again, staring me in the face seriously through the tears. “I’m proud of who you’ve become, so proud. I’d be proud to have you as my daughter, that was never in question. I’m sorry I made you feel that it was.” Her brows turn up. “I’m worried for you, I didn’t want you making your life harder and getting hurt, but I can’t argue with how much more alive you seem.” My mom smiles faintly. “I recognize that determination, I suppose it makes sense my daughter would take after me.”
My breath catches, lip trembling. “Mom. ” This time I hug her , a sharp motion burying my head into her shoulder. My walls lower and I let myself actually sob into her. I say mom again into her coat, but it comes out as a muffled sob.
My mom pats my back, saying softly, “I know dear, it’s ok.” I’m not sure she does know, but I appreciate it nonetheless, continuing to shake into her.
It goes on like that, with just me and her silent comfort, now that I can take comfort in her. Her voice is still hoarse from her own tears. “I love you, I always will,” she says.
My body tension relaxes, and I finally pull away. “I love you too, Mom.”
She looks at me earnestly. “All those changes are a lot for me to handle, but I’ll try my best, with your new name, and your pronouns, it’ll just take some adjusting.”
“Alright, I’ll hold you to that then,” I say.
She smiles, looking a little haggard, and glances over to my dad, who smiles back with relief. I breathe my own relieved sigh, suddenly feeling very exhausted.
My ear twitches to the right, catching the pitter-pat of clawed feet from the hall. I turn to see Spike tiptoeing down the stairs. He slows to a stop as I spot him, and Mom turns to follow my gaze.
Spike taps his claws nervously against the banister. “Please don’t fight!” he squeaks out, “I heard yelling and banging from upstairs and– and we’re family! We’re supposed to take care of each other.” He looks at Mom, but his gaze is more afraid than accusatory. Spike turns to me with a concerned expression, clearly not reassured by my red eyes, tear matted cheeks, and general disheveledness.
I smile at him, trying to push past the tiredness in my expression. I’m just glad he chose now to come down, and not a couple minutes ago. That would’ve been significantly more complicated to balance. I call up to him, “it’s alright Spike, things got heated, but we just had some things to work out.”
“You sure? ” he asks, and looks sceptically down at the slightly wrecked living room.
“I’m sure,” I say. “You can come back down now!”
He stares for a moment more, concerned. He can probably guess I had a magic flare, but either way he doesn’t mention it. Instead Spike hops down the rest of the stairs, stopping in front of us and looking hopeful.
Dad trots up from the side. “You’ll always have a home here. I’m glad we talk through these things, even if it’s hard,” he says.
“Well, I can’t disagree with that, ” I say.
“I’m glad things are going so well for you, it seems like you’re figuring out the stuff you need too!” He rubs the back of his head. “You’re smart, courageous, and sincere. If anypony can figure out this whole ‘Being a mare ’ stuff, it’s you! You’ll be better at it than most ponies I bet!”
“That – I– Sure, Dad,” I say, humoring.
He smiles good naturedly. “Now C’mere, family hug in celebration of our new daughter!” I take a short breath, hearing that still makes my heart feel light. He opens his forelegs, and I meet the hug. Spike immediately runs in, wrapping his arms around my side. Mom is last, wrapping her hooves around Dad and me.
I feel the weight of creatures I care about pressing in around me. Around the real me. There’s still the spent anxiety burning off from my gut, but I’m finally shedding those layers of wrapping and obfuscation around my family. It feels so much more immediate. Receiving a hug requires both yourself and other ponies, and now I can actually acknowledge myself and be there, rather than being a detached consciousness operating an unfamiliar body.
I’m glad I came out to them, and I’m especially glad it turned out well in the end. I take a moment to try and cherish it, and then we slowly peel off one another. I smile at my family and breathe a sigh of relief.
“D’awwwwww~” Pinkie’s voice coos. I turn to see her looking at the scene fondly and grinning at me. Now that everypony is standing, her and Fluttershy are standing next to one another by the couch. Fluttershy looks much less anxious now.
I trot over, smiling at them. “Thank you for being here to support me.”
“Of course, Twilight,” Fluttershy says, smiling.
“I’m just glad you get to be you around your family!! You deserve it!” Pinkie says.
Fondness wells up alongside the relief in my chest, and I feel a little giddy. Before I think about it too much, I step forward and pull Pinkie and Fluttershy into a hug of my own, wrapping a hoof around each of them. “I did it, girls! I can’t believe it!” I squeal softly between their heads. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you, thank you. ”
“Aww, Twily, ” Pinkie says.
“I’m happy it’s worked out, but you’re the one who did all the hard parts. All we did was help it along, like friends should,” Fluttershy says softly, her own hoof wrapped around my shoulder.
I smile, basking in my friend’s presence. They’re so soft and wonderful and good. Then I pull back from them as well and clap my hooves together excitedly. “Phase one of my gala plan is complete!”
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, dear, you’re still here with us.” My mom says, smirking as she takes a seat back in her own chair. She takes another look around at the room, taking in the mess from my magic flare. “And we should probably tidy up.”
“Right, hehe, of course!” I say, reigning in my enthusiasm.
Mom looks at me curiously. “You really are excited for that Gala, aren’t you?”
Dad adds in, “I was surprised too, not usually your type of thing!”
“I suppose I am excited,” I say, noticing it myself. “Not so much the Gala itself, but to spend time with Princess Celestia and be out in public as myself. It’s still terrifying, but it’s exciting as well. Honestly I think coming out to you two was a scarier idea than wearing a dress in public.”
“Well hmm, ” Mom hums. “You said you have a dress, but do you need help with getting ready with makeup and such?”
I smile, about to reply, when my Mom’s eyes go wide and she puts a hoof up to her cheek.
“I have a daughter going to a gala tomorrow, and I haven’t taught her a single thing about it!” she says. “Oh pony feathers. I stopped thinking I’d ever have a foal I’d have to teach mare things to. I’m going to be rusty.” She looks annoyed and slightly panicked, then turns to Dad. “Do we still have those old foal rearing books from before we had Dusk? I might need to check them…” she trails off, tabulating mentally.
It takes my mind a moment to process that she used my old name. I fight a brief mental battle over correcting her while she’s in the middle of going out of her way to do something gender affirming. I don’t really mind much in this context, but I’d rather continue setting the precedent. “Uh, Twilight. ”
She looks at me. “Yes, dear?”
I blink, then nearly facehoof. “My name, I mean, it’s Twilight now.” Maybe that is a little bit confusing.
“Oh!” Mom realizes as well. “Yes, sorry dear,” she says absentmindedly, still clearly trying to figure out how much she can teach in the short time before the Gala.
I lay a hoof on her shoulder to snap her out of it. “Mom, it feels really incredible that you want to do…” I smile foalishly, “Mother daughter things… But you don’t need to worry about tomorrow, my friend Rarity is going to help me with that, we have it all planned out.”
“You’re sure you don’t need my help?” Mom asks.
“I’m pretty sure!” I say, then quickly add, “but I meant what I said, that means a lot to me, Mom.”
“I’m glad, we have lost time to make up for! But if your friend Rarity is helping you…” she sounds both relieved and disappointed. “Then that’s alright. As long as you’ll be ok for the Gala. It is a big thing you’re doing dear, going to the Gala.” she says, sounding a little skeptical still.
I put as much confidence as I can muster into my voice, more than I had before this afternoon. If I got through coming out to my parents, then what can’t I handle? “I think it’s going to be a wonderful night.”
Pinkie suddenly steps in from my side and pulls me into a squeezing side hug, I wheeze but smile, and she raises a hoof enthusiastically and says, “it’s gonna be more than that, it’s gonna be the best night ever! ”
I look up the stairs at my mentor, and after another guest is welcomed past, Princess Celestia meets my gaze. She smiles, motioning a hoof to make sure I know I can come up.
My body is a collection of fizzing static that I can just barely force into carrying me along. Lines of thought, predictions, tangle in my head, but I focus solely on climbing those steps and keeping my breathing steady. The sooner I reach what I’m anxiously fixated on, the sooner I can get past it and start to function properly. Anticipation is, as always, my worst enemy.
I climb the last few steps delicately, and the time it takes to look from my hooves all the way up to Celestia feels like a miniature eternity.
“Twilight Sparkle , my faithful student,” She says with as warm of a smile as I’ve ever seen from her, voice full of pride, “Welcome to the Gala.”
I look at her with wide eyes, and start breathing again. “P-Princess Celestia…” Awareness of my body in space floods back in, self consciousness coming alongside it. I’m standing in front of Princess Celestia wearing a dress!
“It is so lovely to see you here tonight,” she says, and her voice is as calm and light as it always has been. It’s so hard to tell what the Princess is thinking, but she’s treating me like she always has, like this is perfectly normal. She continues, “And you look wonderful in that dress, you’ve grown into quite the young ‘Agender Mare.’”
I curl a foreleg up to my chest and lean back, blinking at her, “I…” Celestia said it like her calling me a beautiful agender mare was routine for her, even though it definitely isn’t! On the one hoof, Celestia just— Mare! On the other hoof, embarrassment heats my cheeks at Celestia calling me agender in public. It feels validating, but also vulnerable, and I hadn’t ever told Celestia I was shy about that aspect of my identity, and I really shouldn’t be embarrassed about it in the first place… “T-thank you! ” I beam, and the Princess’s eyes seem to light up more at my smile. “I’m really excited to be here too, and to see you again!” I say, I’m honestly not sure if I sound any different to her, but I know it feels different talking to Celestia as Twilight Sparkle, instead of well, Dusk Shine . “I’m so glad to get the chance to talk to you, and catch up about, well, everything! ”
“Likewise,” Celestia affirms, “I want you to be my right hoof mare here for the entire evening, so we'll have plenty of time together.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” I reply, keeping the giddy smile on my face small and under control.
Celestia motions with a wing, and I trot around to her side. I shuffle my hooves about, trying to figure out where I should be standing relative to Celestia. Even as I find what I believe is the appropriate spot I can’t keep myself still, fidgeting around with my outfit and how it hangs on my body. I can’t help feeling a bit self conscious trying to look pretty while next to Princess Celestia.
“You know,” Celestia begins, leaning her head over at me, “to redefine yourself in the world’s eyes takes no small amount of courage.” Her wing reaches out, draping my side in warmth and soft feathers. “To redefine yourself in your own eyes is an act of creation, a beauty of the highest order and difficulty. I can only anticipate seeing all the ways you will continue to grow and flourish,” Celestia looks at me strangely, eyes almost glistening, and pulls me into a deep hug with her wing, “I am so very proud of you, my faithful student.”
Something inside of me unwinds, stress exhaling in a huge sigh. Every nerve ending in my body starts to relax. Princess Celestia is here, and she approves of who I am, she’s proud of me. “Thank you,” I say softly, blinking a wave of tears from my eyes.
The familiar feeling of rightness settles over me, safety and belonging. Alongside a new sort of bittersweet nostalgia. This used to be the only part of me that felt like it belonged, the part that was Celestia’s student.
The ‘good student’ was the only version of me that felt correct. So I drowned myself in my role and my studies. Because my name, who I was as a pony, they were all just impairments to get to the part of me I actually liked.
The realization, the memory , hurts. But it’s a relief too. Those titles and traits and accomplishments don’t have to exist in a disembodied shell anymore, they can belong to somepony, somepony I like. They belong to me, Twilight Sparkle. And I can experience them as Twilight Sparkle, fully and without hiding, for the first time.
Celestia gingerly releases me from our hug, and I breathe in deeply, letting it sink in that I really am here. I’m me, I’m Twilight Sparkle, standing at Celestia’s side as her personal student.
“Now, let’s welcome our guests, shall we?” Celestia inclines her head down the grand staircase, and I turn to see the guard’s step back and start letting ponies through again. Realizing the guards had been holding back the queue while Celestia greeted me, I back up a little further to Celestia’s side, self consciousness tingling down my spine.
The first guest is a mare in a fine purple dress, her orange mane spun into a complicated updo. Her gaze sweeps over me in one long motion and then up to Celestia.
“Welcome to the Gala, Fine Rind.” Celestia smiles.
“Princess, ”Fine Rind bows her head gracefully, “Thank you.”
“And this is my personal student, Twilight Sparkle,” she gestures towards me.
Fine Rind’s eyes turn toward me, and my heart skips a beat before I follow Celestia’s example. “Welcome to the Gala!”
“Thank you, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Her voice is perfectly polite and polished, and completely opaque to me in terms of her internal thoughts.
“Wonderful to meet you as well,” I say automatically, and then with a brief nod to me, the encounter is over and she strides past us towards the next flight of steps.
As far as I could tell, that mare reacted to me with complete normalcy. As far as I could tell. Not for the first time I wish I had the social savvy of somepony like Rarity, I could hardly read normal ponies, let alone nobles.
My eyes dart unsurely over to Celestia with a silent question, and she gives me a reassuring smile in return. So I resolve to do what I usually try to do with social subtext that goes over my head. Focus on facts and pretend it doesn’t exist.
The next guest is upon us before I have any more time to think. A middle aged earth pony stallion in a suit vest with tan fur and a graying mane.
“Welcome to the Gala, Hercules,” Celestia says. echoing the previous greeting.
A broad grin overtakes his face, belting out his words, “Of course, of course, it’s my honor Princess!” Celestia smiles benevolently at him, and he pivots immediately to me with equal enthusiasm, “And who might I have the privilege of meeting, young—“ a burst of confusion clouds his face as his eyes dart around me, his grin present but frozen for a beat, “—Lady.”
My heart thuds in my chest, as I try not to stiffen and freeze at the blatant scrutiny. “Twilight Sparkle.” I state. As my own voice assaults my ears it makes me feel like a toad in a choir, that I’m immediately confirming whatever confusions this stallion had. You can never hear your own voice as others do, sound conducting to your inner ear through bone and soft tissue instead of solely through air, phantom sound creating a chimeric impression only you can ever hear, leaving the true voice others hear stripped bare and alien and wron —
I remember to smile at the stallion.
The soft feather touch of the Princess’ wing grazes my back as she fills the quickly curdling silence. “My personal student, and star pupil.”
He smiles in return, cordially, gaze caught somewhere between me and the Princess. “Twilight Sparkle! Of course! That’s one to remember!” he says in what I think is a conspiratorially ingratiating tone.
As he passes by, I try to self report rationally. I don’t want to feel like I’m ashamed of my transness, but that moment of scrutiny, of being ‘found out’, was awful. It wasn’t catastrophic though. I don’t realistically know if he realized I was trans, but either way he wasn’t intentionally rude. I think. I have nothing against curiosity, I just wish my immediate self didn’t have to be the subject.
A few more noble guests passed by, all with similarly unremarkable interactions. The only exception may have been a couple, Jet Set and Upper Crust, who I thought might have looked at me strangely. But none were as flustered or obvious as Hercules. Mostly they just didn’t seem to care about me in general.
Honestly, I’m perfectly fine sharing mutually polite disinterest with all these random noble ponies. As much as I’ve learned about the value of Friendship, I don’t think I’ll ever be the sort to partake in the Pinkie Pie style of socialization.
Oh Pinkie . I wonder how she’s doing? I wonder how they’re all doing. Are they having good nights? Did—
My reverie is cut short by the sight of a certain cutie mark. An arrangement of brilliant-cut crystals on a mustard yellow coat. My heartbeat immediately starts to rise. Without the scratchy polo shirt or the reading glasses perpetually glued to her face, I almost hadn’t recognized her. Tonight, she’s dressed in a sharp, well pressed, but old fashioned looking suit. Her mane and eyes are an even softer purple than my own, and they watch me and the Princess with that familiar calculating astuteness.
And she’s next in line, trotting up the stairs towards us. I start to panic internally. Sure, I’d figured some ponies would recognize me, but for some Celestia forsaken reason I hadn’t internalized there might be ponies I actually know here!
What is one of my professors from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns doing here ?
Then, I think about it for half a second, and realize that of the faculty there, a great many were probably Canterlot natives, and thus potentially part of noble or otherwise elite families.
Will she recognize me? Do I want her to recognize me? I know I’m not technically her student anymore, but she still used to be my teacher!
“Crystal Clear, how wonderful to see you at the Gala this year,” Celestia says warmly as my former professor reaches the landing.
“It is great to see you, your majesty. If only the wonder were mutual,” Crystal Clear says, eyes wandering around the lavish reception hall with a disdainful air as if she were staring down a dozen flunked midterms, “Did you spy my relatives arriving through here at any time, perhaps?”
I was already used to the casual manner in which Crystal and the Princess spoke. She had been my faculty advisor, and was even one of the proctors who’d been at my entrance exam, back when I got my Cutie Mark.
Celestia chuckled and said, “I see your mother put you up to this again. You’ll be relieved to know that she and your cousin already passed through here a while ago.”
Crystal Clear stands a respectful distance from the Princess. With me standing awkwardly off to the side, I’m instantly brought back to the feeling of being the foal in the room while the adults talk.
“Very well then, that should allow me some room to maneuver…” she says, her eyes glancing over me as she speaks.
The moment is split along endless spiderweb cracks, each shard proposing a different outcome for which I’d have to account, and I find myself suspended between them. What I know is that standing in front of her like this is… embarrassing, for reasons I can’t articulate while still frozen in anticipation. Why is she looking at me like that? Does that mean she knows or—
“Dusk Shine.”
“Y-yes? ” I respond to her instantly. Then I freeze, panic and shame suddenly thundering through the veins in my head. She asked with the same expectant perfunctory inquisitiveness as she always did in class, and I just answered without thinking! She recognized me! Of course she did! Stars! I answered to my dead name! What do I do now? I fumbled my opportunity to correct her, to introduce myself—
“Have you been keeping up with your magical studies?”
“I— Um—” She thinks I’m just Dusk Shine, in a dress. Not that there’s anything wrong with Stallions wearing dresses I just—
I know that I need to interrupt this, rewind it, but I don’t have a script for messing up in this way. Why do I even need a script? Why can’t I just say something without planning it out first? It’s simple, the words are simple, why can’t I do it? I can feel that static buzz of knowing I’m not responding in the correct amount of time, and instead of spurring me into action it only makes it more impossible to act before I’ve sorted myself out. Which I don’t have time to do, because I’m in the middle of the Grand Galloping Gala and my teacher is right here asking me questions! And didn’t I freeze earlier too? Is that just what I do now, malfunction at the slightest social pressure—
My searching eyes spot Princess Celestia looking at me sympathetically, moving as if she’s going to speak up and interject. The thought of the Princess having to come to my rescue like that is enough to jolt me into action, I can’t let myself look that foalish in front of her!
“Twilight Sparkle. My name, that’s what it is,” I blurt, “I changed it,” I clarify further.
Crystal Clear nods in acknowledgement without missing a beat, expression not shifting even slightly after my statement.
“Because I’m a mare,” I state after a small pause.
“Ah yes, that would explain that,” She says as if she’s just solved the world's least interesting puzzle. She reiterates in an identical tone to the first time, “Twilight Sparkle, have you been keeping up with your studies?”
My mouth gapes slightly as I recalibrate. There’s being casual about something, and then there’s complete nonreaction. It provokes a strange mix of relief and frustration. Compared to my emotional buildup, it’s very anticlimactic.
“Yes. Yes I have,” I say placidly as I reorganize my thoughts. Crystal continues looking at me expectantly, and I realize I’m actually going to get to talk about magic beyond superficial pleasantries. My voice picks up slightly, “I’ve actually made some breakthroughs in my teleportation since moving to Ponyville!”
“So you’ve solved for aetheric stabilization?” Crystal Clear queries.
I nod as I ponder the question. Aetheric stabilization is the term for the technique barrier that must be overcome to achieve stable teleportation. It can take some sorcerers months or years to break through, and just as many never do. Doomed to always be ejected early from the aether at unintended exit points, accompanied by the scent of aether burnt hair.
“Yes actually. The practical side of my studies has accelerated rapidly since, well, finally making real friends.” I find myself starting to enjoy the encounter. She seems to consider my gender as unremarkable as anypony else’s. It’s not exactly actively supportive per se, but it’s definitely affirming. And it lets me get straight to infodumping. “I can’t pinpoint the difference, but I rarely destabilize now, and it seems like my range and accuracy get better every other day. I’ve even brought passengers! Accidentally at first , but still,” I trail off, remembering to pay attention to my partner in dialogue, and not just my own stream of words.
“Mm. Ponyville has been good for you then, it sounds like you’ve found the right path for yourself,” she nods with satisfaction.
I blink, and raise a brow, “Can you really tell that, just from my teleportation?”
She favors me with a knowing look. “I believe discussion of aetheric stabilization as a matter of focus is a misnomer. It’s a matter of perspective. If you don’t understand who you are, and where you’re going, neither will your magic,” she states it with a matter of fact tone, “and those aren’t things that can be taught, everypony must figure them out in their own way. No amount of technical knowledge can compensate. Hence why so many bright young minds tend to plateau with the higher magics.”
“Well, I have been feeling much more grounded lately…” I admit.
I consider the framework presented. It does explain more than a few things. Before, the idea of magical knowledge that couldn’t be taught from a book or lecture was somewhat offensive to me, despite even the Princess’ advice. But that isn’t me anymore. Something in what my former teacher says rings true. If not correct, at least more correct. As skeptical as I still am of using my own intuition as a scholarly resource… I know that friendship is magic, even if I don’t have the precise words to explain why that’s true thaumaturgically. ‘Mindset’ is heralded as one of the core components of successful spellcasting in most curricula, and that isn’t too far off from this…
This fevered musing on the philosophy of magic reminds me of my school days, the ones that featured Crystal Clear. “I remember you telling me something similar a long time ago. I guess I’m finally starting to understand what you meant.”
“That’s the most a teacher can hope for,” Crystal says approvingly, sharing a glance with the Princess, who hums an acknowledgement, and then turning back to me. “You’re doing well! Glad to hear it,” she begins to step forward, “now time I move along. Before the busybodies in line behind me start pissing themselves.”
I snort out the beginning of a laugh before I catch myself, eyes bugging out in mortification at our behavior in front of the Princess. But Celestia only joins in with soft tinkling laughter, a sly grin on her muzzle.
My outrage softens. If the Princess laughed at it, it must be alright. Right?
“I wish you a tolerable evening, Crystal,” Celestia says with a measured pinch of irony.
“Thank you. Don’t bet on it,” Crystal Clear says pleasantly, stone faced.
“Good evening, Ms. Clear!” I say, as she moves past us.
Crystal favors me with a rare smile. “Have a good evening, Twilight Sparkle,” and with that she moves up the next flight of stairs.
Just as swiftly the cavalcade continues, leaving me not much space to muse on the conversation. The next ones in line are a couple, a mustached and well trimmed stallion, and a frankly gorgeous mare. She’s tall, closer to a Princess than the average mare, all long lines and elegance.
Her long pink mane sways as she meets my eyes, and I do my best to act incredibly normal.
“Welcome to the Gala Fleur de Lis, Fancy Pants,” Celestia says, nodding to each of them in turn. I tear my eyes away from the mare, and to the stallion accompanying her.
“A pleasure as always, your majesty!” Fancy Pants exclaims jovially.
“Quite, quite,” Fleur says with a slight prench accent and note of distraction, and I check to find her still sneaking subtle glances over at me.
My gut churns instantly with the dread of recognition, that this beautiful mare is looking at me and finding something other.
Faced with that, I fall back on the script I’ve been given, “Welcome to the Gala!” I curse myself, once again hyper aware of keeping my voice as feminine as I can.
“Why thank you Ms….?” He pauses for my reply.
“Twilight Sparkle,” I say, unable to stop my gaze from being inevitably distracted towards Fleur even as he’s addressing me.
“Yes, thank you Ms. Sparkle!” he says in the exact same tone, either oblivious or uninterested in my social and gendered oddities.
“Yes, thank you,” Fleur echoes softly, continuing to regard me with similar focus, but without any hint of her intention. Which doesn’t exactly help.
Then Celestia wishes them a good evening, drawing the mare’s attention, and the couple returns the social niceties and begins to step forward and past this little royal welcoming committee.
I’m probably just overthinking it. There are a million reasons for a pony to look at me, and at this point they are ultimately of no consequence. Or at least that’s the reasoning I try to uphold—
“Excuse-moi chérie,” Fleur says from barely a muzzle’s width apart from me. The mare apparently having aborted course following Fancy in order to close into conspiratorial distance of me, and speaking with equally conspiratorial softness, “Don’t be so nervous, you’re doing radiantly! If you ever need anything in Canterlot, call on me. Mares like us need to stick together, no?”
A baffled, “Um. Ok? ” is all I can think to proffer in the split second before Fleur is off again, a graceful bounce in her step to catch up with her companion.
I blink. ‘Mares like us?’ What did that mean coming from a clearly cis mare? Was she just a huge ally, or did she not know or—
Fleur was cis… right? I crane my neck to watch her as she goes. I mean, just look at her. Trans mares could be pretty, or pass, Fluttershy was absolutely gorgeous after all. But what are the odds, this is the Grand Galloping Gala! Not every beautiful friendly mare could be trans. She surely must have meant something else.
“Welcome to the Gala, Baron Greenwick,” The Princess says, startling me into realizing I’d been oblivious to the next guest in line trotting up. I turn my head back around to look, unable to keep from being visibly caught off guard.
The guest Princess Celestia addressed is a fairly handsome stallion, wearing a suit coat of similar kind to Fancy Pants except deep green. I was a little surprised to see no green on the stallion’s body itself, despite the name. A dark brown mane, with a lighter blue coat, and blue eyes deep enough they were almost purple. Not even his cutie mark, an unlit candle in an elaborate holder, had any of the color in it.
“And this is my protégé Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia introduces me, cutting through the moment of observation.
The Baron wrinkles his nose. “I thought your student was a colt named ‘Dusk Shine?’” he speaks past me to the Princess, “Did he prove insufficient somehow?”
I’m torn between grimacing from irritation or from the discomfort of hearing my dead name once again bandied around. Instead I don’t grimace at all, or try not to. “No, I am the Princess’s only student.” I say with a hint of defensive pride.
“Right. Yes,” he says, smiling as he does. I’m trying to tell if there’s something weird about the way he’s looking at me, but I can't tell if there's something there or if it’s just my autism. Either way it tempts me to lock up in tension.
“So—”
His muzzle barely opens up to speak when Celestia smoothly intercedes. “Twilight, I believe I accidentally left the most up to date version of the guest list in Raven’s office, could you please fetch it for me?”
I blink, needing to reprocess the abrupt shift in topic, then perk up at the task. “Of course, Princess!” I say, turning back to Greenwick, “Excuse me sir, have a good night.” I want to remove myself from this interaction as efficiently as possible, surely the Princess wouldn’t have asked me if leaving right now would be rude.
I trot off toward the castle hallway, happy to get a break from the endless cavalcade of guests and focus on something actually productive. It might mean less time with Celestia, but it wasn’t like I was getting much time to actually speak with her anyway…
I’m just about to turn the corner toward the wing where Raven’s office lies when I realize I’d been so eager to help the Princess, I forgot to ask how to tell which guest list is the updated copy! I facehoof, stopping in place. How foolish could I be? Now I’ll have to go back to the Princess and interrupt all over again just to explain my own error…
My limbs move slowly as I turn to go back the way I came. I linger by the walls as I approach the doorway back into the entry hall, embarrassment naturally making me shrink in on myself. Maybe I can just look and wait until the next guest is done, so I don’t need to interrupt?
I hear talking through the opening, louder than expected, only increasing my hesitation.
The grand draperies on either side of the entryway obscure my approach. Not that I’m hiding! Of course not. Just waiting politely… Out of view.
“—You’re extremely gracious of course, Princess, for humoring him, but do you really think it’s appropriate to parade him around at an event like the Gal—
It doesn’t take more than a few words to get my stomach to drop, insides buzzing incandescently. I slip the edge of my vision around the thick fabric, aware of how exposed it makes me. My senses flee for cover, leaving my body to stand dumbly frozen and watch.
“That is three. I won’t be asking you a fourth time, Baron,” Celestia continues coldly. “Your access to the Gala is revoked for the safety of guests.”
“Safety? That’s preposterous!” He scoffs, “The only thing in danger here is good sense!”
“This is not a debate. I suggest you leave now, or else the guards will help you find your way out.”
Greenwich mouth opens, face uncomprehending. Celestia meets his stare stonily. Then he starts to sputter, louder and louder, like an apoplectic steam kettle. “M-my family line has attended every Gala since its inception! You can’t eject me so frivolously, it’s an outrage! You’d choose that disgusting spectacle of a half-stallion ove—”
His venom trails off as Celestia takes a long step closer to him, enveloping him in her shadow and forcing him to crane his head back and look straight upward at the Princess’s face. “Twilight Sparkle has more integrity and worth than you’ve approached in your empty life,” Celestia says, lowering her head ever so slightly to meet his gaze. “The only thing you’ve contributed to this Gala is the consummate cowardice that ensured you didn’t speak about Twilight so wretchedly until she was out of earshot.”
A quiet detached part of me notes the irony. Another part wishes I wasn’t hearing this, but now that I know there’s no way I could ever turn away. Pain churns away somewhere deep in my abdomen at what that stallion is saying about me, warmth at how Celestia is defending me, and the dull mortification that it was happening without my knowledge, but it’s all almost secondary to the paralyzing agony of being stuck in this moment. The fear of being stuck here, on the edge of being caught out, with nothing to do but hold my breath and endure.
His pomposity fading under the literal shadow of the Princess, Greenwich looks small and brimming with indignant spite. His voice has been cowed back down to conversational volume. “I won’t be dragged out by the guards like a common scoundrel,” he says slowly.
“Request granted,” Celestia says. Greenwick has a moment to look confused before she finishes, “I’ll remove you myself.” Celestia’s horn starts to shine.
“Wait—” Greenwick says, eyes wide.
“Save yourself the embarrassment and don’t go bothering the gate guards, they’ll know your face.”
And then Greenwick vanishes in a golden flash of teleportation.
The afterimages dancing in my eyes release me from my stasis, as I realize my window to escape undetected is closing.
I start to back up, eyes remaining fixed on Celestia as she looks into the space where Baron Greenwick used to be and let s out a heavy sigh.
Then her head starts to lift, and I can’t help but spin on the spot in a burst of adrenaline and trot away as quietly and quickly as possible. Every new moment crossing this hallway brings a new wave of pins and needles cascading over my back as I imagine Celestia’s incriminating gaze washing over me.
But no sound or voice rings out as I make it back down the hall, safely out of sight of my teacher. My legs feel like they’ve fallen half asleep, carrying me numbly.
Excuses and explanations for the slothful return from my task flit across my mind. But it isn’t too hard to find a plausible one, I truly don’t know where the updated document would be stored, so my time spent eavesdropping on the Princess could reasonably be enfolded into that delay.
And as I draw closer to my legitimate destination, the imminent fear of being caught starts to fade.
It turns out finding the up to date guest list isn’t too difficult, as there’s a stack of them right on Raven’s desk with a sticky note attached reading ‘latest revision.’ Trusting in Raven’s due diligence if nothing else, it doesn’t take me long to be walking back down the same hall I’d been sculking in not five minutes prior.
I do my best acting as if nothing at all is out of place, and I’ve been doing exactly what I was supposed to, at the time I was meant to. It’s impossible to hide my nerves, but hopefully they’ll be explained away as my usual heightened neuroticism around the Princess.
Celestia turns and smiles at me beatifically, and I have no idea how much she sees through me. I approach, holding the updated list out to her in my magic. “Here you go Princess, sorry it took me a while.”
She takes it into her own magical aura, floating it to her side. “That’s quite alright, my faithful student. I don’t believe you’ve missed altogether too much.” She looks over the updated list as I try not to watch her face too intently.
Does that mean… Celestia is intentionally hiding what happened with the baron? My stomach drops as I try and make sense of that. She probably just didn’t want to ruin my big night by bringing up something so upsetting, right? But now I’m stuck with all the anxiety of hearing what that jerk said about me, without even being able to talk to Celestia about it.
All the whirling emotions as new guests approach are muted, replaced with an increasing weight of feeling trapped.
Having to act normal for Celestia, act proper in front of all the guests, having to project ‘mare-ness,’ whatever that even means. All the selves I have to project at once compound on top of me into an increasingly claustrophobic shell, while I peer fretfully through the gaps. It’s hard to feel like I’m premiering as a mare when I barely feel like myself at the moment.
There are no other unexpected blow ups, or too much of note at all. At least not anything I’m present enough to recognize. Everpony acts fairly normal, including a few stallions whose hoofshakes were unreasonably tight, but each time I can’t help but wonder if behind their eyes they harbor the same sentiments that only Baron Greenwich was arrogant enough to speak aloud. It couldn’t be all of them. But is it any likelier that none of them do?
I try to keep in mind the thread of euphoria that had unspooled throughout the night, but it’s fogged down by the exhaustion of having to hold up a mask. This definitely isn’t the the best night ever. It’s the night of ‘I’m tired and I want to go home.’
By some grace, the line thins, then trickles, then stops, as the greeting window ends.
And I would finally get the chance to see my friends, if anything could salvage the night it would be them! Statistically, their nights had to have been better than mine.
I half turn, giving a glance between Celestia and the staircase further up, antsy to go but not quite willing to leave the Princess behind.
She smiles knowingly at me, “Let’s see how the ballroom fares, shall we?”
The air carries the smell of food and noises of countless ponies echoing out beyond. We finally ascend the steps I’d been watching guests climb all night, switching back until we approach the grand doorway.
My ear flicks, the noises I’ve been hearing starting to register as even more chaotic then I’d expect from a gathering of poni—
A tremendous series of thundering impacts shake the stone underneath my now scrambling hooves, clambering to a halting stop at the top of the stairs as my panicked eyes scan the ballroom.
Travesty. Chaos. The room is shattered. Rubble and plumes of dust frame my haggard friends throughout the crowd.
Applejack is closest, turning to look at me scuffed up and aghast. Pinkie is collapsed with all four legs splayed out. Rainbow Dash stands guiltily amongst smashed pillars of stone and gilded metal, the source of which I can’t help but infer. And finally Rarity holds herself mortified off to the side, dress streaked in… baked goods?
“Well… it can’t get any worse,” I say without thought.
Then the grounds facing door bursts outward in a flurry of squirming scampering flapping bodies. Fluttershy stands furious at their heels, like a valkyrie in the throes of madness.
“You’re. Going. To love me! ” She roars, charging into the fray.
Oh. Fluttershy. How had I forgotten Fluttershy? Wonderful, sweet, demure Fluttershy.
Panicked animals meet panicking ponies, and utter disarray envelops the ruined ballroom.
My terror stricken eyes look up toward the Princess, mouth working out unintelligible sounds as my brain sputters for a response that can resolve the chaos before me.
Then Princess Celestia swoops down to my level and simply intones, “Run. ”
That’s all it takes for me to clarify my course of action. I desperately let out my best whistle toward the five mares still wandering the scattering crowds. My heart soars as I see their ears pick up at the high pitched noise, Fluttershy dropping a squirrel and staring my way as if only now perceiving the room around her.
I suppose after the adventure’s we’ve been on, the girls have learned to hear me calling even in a crisis. It’d warm my heart if there weren’t now five equally panicked mares charging toward the doorway. As soon as Applejack closes the distance I turn tail and run to clear the doorway, hoping the girls will follow. With the sounds of rushing hooves behind me, and the occasional straggling guest turning to watch us pass.
The next thing I know is the cool autumn night air washing over me through the main gate, and my pace slowing to a delirious scatter of trailing steps. I let myself take a full breath without the pressure of galloping, and turn back to look. I count each one as the girls file out behind me, two, three… Wait… Before I can muster the oxygen to wonder where Rarity and Pinkie are, the two scurry at last down the steps, Rarity missing a slipper.
Looking out at my bedraggled girls, I try to get oxygen into my lungs. “That,” I say with a heaving breath and a mournful squeak, “could’ve gone better.”
Author's Note
And here we are! The end of what was originally just chapter 4! Thank you everyone for your patience, and hopefully you enjoy!
“Aww, we missed you too, sugarcube!” Applejack pats my back as I release her and Rarity from my hug.
Rarity claps her hooves, “Oh I cannot wait to get started!” She steps quickly into the hotel room as she calls back to Applejack and Rainbow Dash, “Help bring in our things, won’t you?”
While Applejack reacquires the bags she’d set down to hug me, Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes, hovering impatiently in the doorway with a bag in each hoof. It only took a quick glance to see that the majority of the luggage was marked with three sparkling diamonds.
Rainbow Dash swoops in to plop her’s down and land next to me as Applejack helps Rarity unpack. A little jolt goes down my spine as she bumps her cutie mark to mine. “Hey Twi,” she says, smirking at my reaction.
“Hi Rainbow!” I say, smiling and trying not to be flustered.
“Dashie!! ” Pinkie cries, pouncing and wrapping her into a big hug.
“Yeah yeah ,” Rainbow Dash squirms in her grip, “just can’t get enough Dash!”
“Hah! That makes for one of us!” Applejack calls over, taking out a blow dryer from one of Rarity’s bags. “Reckon’ you can keep her, Pinkie!” Applejack grins.
Pinkie’s face lights up at Applejack. “I can?!” she squeals, squeezing Rainbow tighter.
“Ok! Breathing! Need that!” Rainbow Dash taps Pinkie’s foreleg, and Pinkie releases her into a heap on the floor. Rainbow shoots Applejack a dirty look, who just chuckles.
I can’t help but giggle as well, hiding it with a hoof. My mind takes detailed mental note of the little blush that appears on Rainbow’s cheeks. My thoughts turn over her and Pinkie, I've been so distracted by the attention they give me that I haven't stopped to wonder what they have between them.
A train of thought for later, because Rarity glances over at us all seriously, and puts a hoof to her chest, “Now now ladies, we are on a mission! ” Rarity thrusts her hoof into the air triumphantly. “One that cannot be denied!” she rears up, tossing her curls, “To be the most beautiful, fashionable, and dazzling group of mares in all the gala!”
Silence follows Rarity’s declaration for a moment.
“I’m pretty sure that’s your mission Rarity,” Applejack says, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh it’s so adorable you think you have a choice in the matter!” Rarity laughs, delicately patting Applejack’s cheek before sauntering off towards the mirrors.
Rarity pops open a large cosmetics case, turns on the lamp she’s clamped to the mirror, and says, “Let us begin!”
Soon enough I’m sitting in a swivel chair awaiting my turn, Applejack laying on the bed next to me.
Which means I have plenty of time to contemplate the night ahead of me. There are so many firsts all happening tonight. My first Gala, my first time presenting as a mare in the public eye.
My first time seeing Celestia since I started transitioning…
I really hope she likes the new me.
It’s not that I’m a completely different pony now, but in some respects it feels that way. Even if I think the changes are good, it still means that things won’t be the same between me and the Princess. I can’t help but be scared of that.
I hadn’t been as nervous until my mom brought those doubts into my mind, now I’m hoping they really are just doubts. The Princess wouldn’t let me down like that…
There’s one thing my mom definitely wasn’t wrong about, whatever happens tonight will be seen and talked about by practically everypony. It’s easy to say to my parents that I don’t care what strangers think of me, and in a macro sense, I really don’t.
But the moment to moment experience of being seen and judged by strangers is something different. There’s going to be all kinds of new social scripts I’ll need that I haven’t learned or practiced yet!
What if I have to correct somepony about my pronouns? How do you even do that?
I just really really want my debut as a mare to go well. I don’t want to fail.
I look over, watching Rarity attend to Fluttershy. I don’t want to get Fluttershy anxious before a big event, but maybe Rarity could give me some tips about being a mare in public?
Ugh, I should have studied this earlier! I was too occupied with coming out to my parents.
“Now what’re you scrunching your face all up about sugar cube?” Applejack’s voice catches me off guard.
I turn my head around, meeting her questioning look. “Oh! I was just… wondering if Rarity would teach me about the etiquette for being a mare at the Gala like this,” I smile sheepishly. “I'm realizing just how much I don’t know.”
“Well all you’re up to is being by Celestia’s side as her student, right?” Applejack asks. “Why do ya have to change how you're acting just cause you’re a mare?”
“Well, it’s not that I want to be a stereotype. I just… I’ve always known there are certain ways mares have to navigate the world, because of how they’re treated. At least I think so. Right ?” I look at her for assurance.
“I guess you could put it that way. Dunno, I try not to worry too much about all that.” Applejack says with a shrug.
“Mmm,” I groan low in my throat. This is why I wanted to talk to Rarity about it. “I know, but I have to. I want to make a good first impression as a mare in the public eye!”
“And you think acting the ‘right’ way is what’ll do that?” Applejack raises an eyebrow.
“And that way of phrasing it totally doesn’t frame my worries as disingenuous.” I say flatly.
“No need for sassin’ missy, all I’m saying is you’re not gonna get rejected just for not fitting their idea of a mare exactly. You just gotta be yourself.”
“Applejack— That is literally what happens to trans ponies all the time! Maybe not caring works for you, but unlike me, you don’t have to constantly prove who you are.” It comes out more bitter than I intended, and my ears lower in response.
“I’m just—“ Applejacks hackles raise, but then she looks at me and glances away, giving a small snort. “Fine, fair enough.” She pauses, thinking, “But ponies who’ll reject you just for that aren’t worth having around you.”
“I know you’re right… but I’m not just talking about awful transphobes, there are plenty of ponies who are just unfamiliar, that might not see me for who I want to be.” I hold my hooves up, searching for the words. “And I— I want to communicate — I want to express who I am to them, and I don’t feel like I have all the tools I need to do that.”
“Ah, now that’s making more sense to me.” Applejack presses her lips together, “Think you’re overcomplicating it though, there’s such a thing as acting natural.”
“I don’t have an intrinsic social self for casual interactions. I have to build it , out of experiences and mimicry and lessons.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, a mimicking memory of Pinkie’s words helpfully echoes ‘I think it’s the autism! ’ As I continue, “A lot of my previous work has been tossed out now, and I need new materials to rebuild with.”
“I’ll level with you Twi, I can’t say I understand that,” Applejack admits, “But which sounds more appealin’, having to act like somepony you’re not whenever anypony’s looking, or being who you really are and letting ponies make what they will of it?”
I press my lips together, unsure. Presented that way, it sounds a lot like the choice I’d already made with my transition, and I know where I stand on that. But I also don’t think Applejack understands how fundamentally I rely on scripts and mimicry to survive in society on a basic level.
Applejack sees my expression, and gives a placating smile. “I swear I’m not just saying ‘be true to yourself’ again. Use whatever ‘mare tricks’ Rarity teaches you, but you just make sure that whatever you’re doing feels rightto you . Instead of trying to pick the things that’ll make you come off as a good mare, pick the things that show them the mare you want to be, show them Twilight Sparkle. ” The edge of her smile turns up. “You’re worth seein’, believe me.”
“I—” I look away and take a breath. “Thank you Applejack, I’ll think about it. That does help me feel a bit less nervous.”
It really did help. My nerouses feel silly, even though I can’t help but feel them. I’m not even a binary trans mare for pony’s sake. I’m agender too! Yet I still worry about performing marehood in public.
I want to be the mare I am, I want to know how to be that mare. But the kind of mare I am isn’t codified in society, there’s no prescribed role for me to fill. I have to discover it for myself, and show it to ponies.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Applejack says, and smiles at me.
I smile back at her, and then to myself. It’s one of the many moments that make me happy I’m friends with ponies like Applejack. I’m pretty sure reciprocating is the proper thing to do, so I ask, “What about you?”
“What about me?” Applejack questions.
“I know the Gala really isn’t your kind of event, do you feel alright about it?”
“Did I somehow imply I wasn’t?” Applejack raises an eyebrow.
“No. I just–” I look away, feeling awkward. “I’m trying to be… reciprocal! You talked about my worries, so I thought…”
Applejack’s voice lightens at that. “Aw alright, I getcha.’ That’s real considerate of you. But this is business for me, nothing too hard.” She tilted her head in acknowledgement. “If I can drum up enough business for the family, that’s plenty enough enjoyment for me.”
I’m not a hundred percent convinced, but I also trust Applejack to ask for help if she needed it nowadays. “Ok, I just hope it’s a good night for you too.”
“It will be.” She gives me a smirk, looking over my shoulder, “Now steel yourself, cause it looks like Rarity’s headed your way.”
I turn to see the mare in question approaching with a full complement of cosmetics, and an expression that could not at all be interpreted as sinister.
Here I go.
It’s only a subjective hour or so of Rarity’s close and careful aesthetic pampering, my eyes closed both to enable the makeup application and to spare me the absolute awkwardness of deciding where I’m supposed to look when Rarity is so close to me.
“Now, there we are~” Rarity coos, hooves over my shoulders. “You may open your eyes now, darling.”
I crack one eye open, confirming that I am indeed facing the mirror, and steel myself.
Then I flick my eyelids open and look.
Oh.
I’m really pretty.
W-wait what?! I blink furiously, my train of thought finally catching up with my reaction. I look again, but what I see in the mirror remains the same. I’m looking at my own little purple muzzle and thinking that I’m pretty, without reservation or caveat.
Stars. Stars. Is this what that feels like?
I stare, taking in every little detail of my appearance.
My eyes look soft and open, expressive with long dark eyelashes. My eyeshadow isn’t too heavy, but when I tilt my head I can see sparkles where glitter catches the light.
Rarity had long since figured out, if my name wasn’t already a huge hint, my affinity for sparkling things, and had yet to cease gifting me all things sparkly for my appearance, not that I was complaining.
My jawline looks softer, and it boggles my mind that makeup can do that, because I know for a fact the shape hasn’t changed.My cheeks too, softer and somehow integrated into the portrait of my face. Just a hint of soft blush graced them, the makeup I mean, not my own admittedly frequent blushing as of late.
It’s like magic.
I tentatively put a hoof up to the side of my face, Rarity doesn’t scold me, so it must not be messing up the makeup. I feel the familiar structure of my face, right where it should be, in all its ambivalent glory. I tilt my head and gently trace the hoof down my jaw, what I feel and see just slightly out of sync, and I think I can trace the subtle shading there that fools the eye.
It’s a bit like a magic eye picture. If I squint, I can still see all the little things about my appearance that bother me. But if I just look at myself, as a whole, I don’t see those. I see the complete picture, I see me.
“Well, what do you think, Twilight dear?” Rarity says, leaning in.
I make eye contact with her in the mirror. “Um,” I say, the corners of my eyes growing hot. “It’s good. Really really good.”
Rarity smiles warmly, but tuts at me, “Now now, don’t go ruining your makeup with tears, alright? You look absolutely fabulous. ”
“R-right, thank you,” I say, taking a breath and trying to direct all the emotion welling up out from my eyes and into the rest of my body. Part of it blooms into a big, almost stunned grin. “Thank you so much Rarity!”
“Of course darling, this is what I live for! I couldn’t be happier to see you this way.” She tilts her head off to the side and exhales, “Oh, that way your eyes are sparkling, I simply cannot take it!” She puts a hoof up to her chest, the other resting along the side of my chair.
That puts my own blush on my cheeks. “R-Rarity, ” I say.
“Is an artist not entitled to admire her work? I’d say both of our contributions to this collaboration are stunning!” Rarity says.
“Heh, gay,” A scratchy voice calls out from the side.
Rarity nonchalantly swirls her head over. “Oh hush Rainbow Dash, ” she throws a withering glance in Rainbow’s direction, “Not all of us are massively flirty lesbians, I am a professional in beauty.” She turns her nose up and hmph ’s!
Rarity turns back to me and smiles, her magic pulls off the cloth that protects my dress from stray makeup in one smooth flourish, before she gestures for me to step aside from the chair. “You’re all ready then!”
I get up, half watching myself in the mirror as I do. It’s continuously surreal to connect the movement I experience with the image I see in the mirror.
I trot slowly, circling away from the chair, and a giddy twinkling feeling builds in my chest. I breathe out slowly, but when that isn’t enough I stim it out, rearing up slightly and stamping my hooves up and down excitedly. “Mmm! Girls! We’re going to the Gala! Girls girls girls! ” I squee, devolving into heady giggling.
“We sure are Sugarcube,” Applejack says, with a small deadpan smirk, “Glad you’re feeling better.” Fluttershy covers her mouth with a hoof and giggles goodnaturedly.
Pinkie pauses her hairdryer to go, “Woooo! Let that party spirit out Twi Twi!”
My giggling subsides, and I smile back, unable to be self conscious in this moment, with these ponies, “Thanks Pinkie!”
Rainbow snickers. “Wow, you’re all so stoked for a stuffy party!”
Applejack gives Rainbow a look, “Says the filly who hoof wrastled me for the ticket.”
“Eh,” Rainbow shrugs, “Might as well be a VIP Wonderbolts ticket to me, the party just kinda happens to be there. Oh, and you girls are there, so that’s pretty cool too I guess.”
“How flattering you find my presence ‘pretty cool,’” Rarity says flatly, “Now please do let me work on your mane, or we may never get to the Gala in the first place!”
Rainbow shies away, putting her hooves protectively over the towel on her head. “Ugh, ” she groans, “I just don’t want you doing anything weird to it.”
“Like brushing it? ” Rarity says.
Rainbow continues staring suspiciously at Rarity.
A pall of absolute horror falls over Rarity’s expression, “Rainbow Dash, please tell me you brush your mane. ”
“Jeez, lighten up! I do! Sometimes!” Rainbow Dash puts her hooves up.
Rarity glares, weighing the pegasus for a moment, before pressing her lips together. “Fine , I choose to believe you. I’ll be magnanimous and go easy on your mane, alright?”
Rainbow looks like she swallowed a fly, “Magnum-what-now?”
I say, “Magnanimous . It means to be especially forgiving or generous, especially when one is in a position of power,” I rattle off the definition reflexively, then balk slightly when I see Rainbow smirking at me.
“Ah, thanks egghead,” Rainbow says, then rubs her chin for a moment, “Actually, thanks pretty egghead.”
I sputter, “Wha— buh— Mmm!” My voice is petulant as I turn away from my blush.
Before I even finish, Rainbow has turned back to Rarity and says, “Alright fine, let’s just get this over with, ok?”
Almost an hour later, I’m staring out the window at starlit streets. The slight bump of carriage wheels on Canterlot cobbles is a soothing rhythm. Which is good, because I feel hot and cold, a buzzing in my brain that refuses to categorize itself.
I’m sitting next to Fluttershy, so I distract myself by speaking up to her. “So… Are you nervous about the Gala too?”
“Oh, yes.” Fluttershy says matter of factly, then blinks, “I mean, a little bit.” She corrects, looking over at me. “I’m always a little nervous,” she admits.“Luckily, I won’t need to be around many ponies at all, it’ll just be me and all my nice new animal friends!” Fluttershy looks down, smiling brightly to herself for the first time during their carriage ride, “I can’t wait to meet them…”
I murmur my assent, but mostly I’m looking at my friend and thinking how wonderful it is to see her excited.
She looks back over to me, “I wish I knew what to say to help you, but you’re already being braver than I ever have…”
“Oh, Fluttershy. I wouldn’t even be here right now without you.”
“You were farther along than you thought, you just needed permission to take your thoughts seriously,” Fluttershy smiles.
It’s a smile that tells me I’m not going to get through her quiet self deprecation unless I argue with her, which would hardly be helpful right now. Setting aside a pang of frustration, I put on my own smile. “Well still, thank you. I’m sure it’ll go well. Definitely!”
Rainbow ears are swiveled over towards our conversation, and leans over from the opposite side of the carriage, “Twi, want me to hang around and watch your back?”
“What about impressing the Wonderbolts?” I say, brows knitting together.
“Eh, I’ll always have chances to impress the Wonderbolts, I’m just that good. But friends are one of a kind,” She gives a cocky grin, looking directly at me and catching my gaze.
“Oh. Um!” I say, ears flicking up and cheeks heating up. “I suppose! But…” I exhale, though it comes out as more of a wheeze. “I think it’ll be easier with just me and Celestia. I appreciate it though, really,” I look around the carriage at all my friends, before returning my gaze to Rainbow Dash and giving a smile, “Besides, we all have things we want to do at the Gala, and I want this night to be special for everypony.”
“Alright alright, but just find me if you need me, ok?” Rainbow says, oddly earnest.
“Ok,” I say.
Rainbow nods and looks to my left, “That goes for you too, ok Shy?”
“I already told you I’d be fine outside with the animals.” Fluttershy says and sighs fondly, “But if it’ll stop you worrying, ok.”
“Pfft, I don’t worry, ” Dash waves it off with a hoof, “Super stars like me just gotta watch out for the little pony.”
“Of course, ” Fluttershy says, giving a little giggle.
“My my, ” Rarity titters over the clack of the carriage wheels, “Look at you, showing your gallant side”
“What'd ya mean? I’m always gallant!” Rainbow says, flicking her tail against the seat..
“Oh yes, always,” Rarity smirks. “When it comes to your type, that is.”
“Huh?” Rainbow tilts her head.
“Oh you know, cute little transfemmes with anxiety issues?” Rarity says, glancing at Rainbow coyly.
“Wha-buh– No! ” Dash protests, voice cracking.
Applejack snorts, barely covering it up. Pinkie joins in with her giggling.
Beside me I notice Fluttershy’s blush bloom into place, her muzzle pressed together tight and glancing away. It’s almost enough to distract me from my own mix of embarrassment and gratification at Rarity’s comments.
Aware that I’m staring, I turn from Fluttershy. As I do, Rarity’s azure eyes catch mine, and she holds my gaze for a heartbeat. I feel like her eyes are communicating something to me, but I don’t for the life of me know what it is.
Then the heartbeat passes, and I’m looking ahead towards an indignant Rainbow Dash.
“You’re just jealous cause I get all the mares!” she says.
“You’re welcome to keep them, I’m perfectly happy awaiting my prince charming.”
“Yeah, you’re totally the token straight mare here, riiiiiiight. ”
“Don’t start this again Rainbow Dash, a lady can have her preferences.” Rarity says, harrumphing for good measure.
“Well as long as I get all the extra mares, I guess that’s fine.” Rainbow says.
“Extra mares?! Can I have some? I love mares!” Pinkie exclaims.
Applejack sighs deeply, weariness echoing from her bones. “Pinkie Pie— I’m sure the number a’ mares will be perfectly normal for this kinda shindig.” She puts a hoof up to her forehead. “And you’ll have to ask 'em’ if you want to ‘have’ any of them.”
“I see I see!” Pinkie Pie nods studiously, the motion continuing a good while after her words have stopped.
Rainbow nudges Pinkie with a foreleg, and whispers something in her ear that makes them both giggle. Their snickering is interrupted as we all feel the carriage suddenly rumble to a stop.
I hold my breath for a long moment, and then the carriage door swings open. Spike is on the other side, stepping out of the way, and giving a precious little dramatic bow to show us the way out.
Beyond him, past crowds of ponies, is Canterlot Castle all lit up against the night sky.
Oh stars, it’s the Gala. We’re actually here. This is actually happening. The frizzy anticipation in my gut bubbles over into a thrumming that fills my whole body.
Rarity exits first, while I’m still staring at the castle. Her dainty hoofsteps taking her down onto the pathway. I don't think I see any part of her dress even touch the ground as she does so, goodness…
Rainbow follows after her, much more casually. I realize that I’m closest to the door on the rear bench, and so I’ll have to exit before Fluttershy or Applejack. I wait until Rainbow clears the way, and focus on exiting the vehicle normally and competently, hyperattentive about not messing up my dress. A hum of activity on all sides engulfs the little island of calm around our carriage, and the crisp evening air helps snap me out of my travel daze. A line of carriages trails off behind our own, and well dressed ponies mill about in groups along the wide thoroughfare leading to the castle gates, the movement of the crowd slowly pulsing towards the entrance like an equine river. Everything is buzzing with potential, and it arcs up through my hooves and fills me with frantic, giddy energy.
The rest of my friends pile out of the carriage behind me and trot alongside the group, and Spike turns and looks at us all together. “Woah! You all look amazing!”
“Thank you Spike,” I smile gratefully over at him. Looking at the five mares around me, I can’t say I disagree. It really is special, being around my friends all dressed up beautifully, And getting to be a part of it too… I feel my cheeks heat up, and take a breath to focus myself.
The familiar castle gates are made strange by the lights and crowds, but my eyes lock onto them and I take a step forward into the lead. If I want this to be the best night ever, I’d have to make it that way. I turn my head back toward my friends, “Alright girls, are we ready?”
A chorus of agreements, cheers, and hollers echo back to me, and I start moving. We join the tributaries trailing into the thick of the crowd. Ahead of the little pocket of safety my friend’s presence created around the carriage, I find myself hyper aware of my approach.
I’m used to noble ponies, even crowds and official functionary types. But I’m not used to joining along with them, of having to be seen. I simply ignored everything that wasn’t directly relevant to me, it was easy. There was nothing about me that required justification. Everything about me used to be, well, safe.
Now though, I could trigger any number of unanticipated reactions through my presence alone! The dress I’m wearing, no matter how beautiful, makes me feel naked in front of these ponies. It’s impossible for me to tell which ponies are looking over the crowd in idle curiosity, and which ones are scrutinizing me specifically.
So instead I focus on getting deeper into the crowd, where the mass of ponies helps anonymize me. These days I usually try to be more open to ponies, but in this circumstance I allow myself to demote them into being erroneous stimuli, irrelevant and ready to be shut out.
Except of course the ponies and dragon traveling with me, whom I still give my whole attention, muddled as it may be in the thrum of the frantic environment. I only turn around enough to make sure we’re all still together.
Perfumes and colognes mix in the air as the castle looms and lights up the night around me. It grows until it fills the view, a world of its own, encompassing us. It’s there the crowd slows to a halting pace, as the meandering ponies are merged into an orderly procession.
The sudden feeling of fabric brushing against me gives me a start, until I turn to see the source is Pinkie bouncing in place behind me, who grins over at me. Her mouth moves, and I catch a vague smattering of excited syllables, the rest I can’t parse from the ambient noise. Without proper context, I take a guess at the proper response, nodding and smiling back at her. Judging from Pinkie’s expression, my guess must have been close enough, so I turn back towards our destination.
Hopefully the space I’m meeting Celestia in will be at least a tad quieter…
The waters underneath the drawbridge are surreal amidst the twinkling reflections as we cross, until we pass through the outer gate and lose sight of them. Emerging into the courtyard, the normally expansive space is blocked off into a narrow corridor of red rope.
My heart only speeds faster as we approach the entrance hall. Peering past the other guests, the blur of figures meandering around the massive doorway starts to resolve into individual shapes.
Even in a crowd like this, it’s impossible to miss her. Celestia stands above the crowd, poised at the top of the grand staircase. Her pearlescent coat is a reprieve and a beacon amidst the bustling chaos of the gala.
I whip my head back around towards my friends behind me. then back to Celestia, then back to my friends, tapping my hooves underneath me and letting out a hum of indecision.
Applejack sighs fondly, looking at me like I’m an overexcited puppy asking to go play.
I look to my other friends for approval, Rarity gives me an encouraging, “Do go on, dear.” And a shooing motion. While Rainbow just grins at me.
I try to retain some level of composure by suppressing the excited squeal threatening to come out, and instead say, “Thank you girls!” I turn, starting to move at a pace that is swift, but hopefully not too swift. “Have a great night too, I love you!” I call back, mind already switching toward Celestia.
Author's Note
It’s FINALLY here!! The chapter ended up being so long I’ve split it into chapter’s 4 and 5, the latter of which is also released today!
