The Interview

Twilight stared up at the array of lights, bright and hot on her face. She stared down to see that she was seated. The shape of an audience lay out before her: faceless black silhouettes lined in two rows. She raised herself from the seat, and her eyes blinked furiously at the ever-stinging glare of the ever-present lamps.

“Princess Twilight?”

The words shook her from her bewildered state. Her head instinctively turned to the source, glad to escape the blinding illumination. Across a cheap wooden table leaned a stallion sporting an easy-going smile through pale worm-like lips. His grey-blue eyes stared at her, and for a moment, she thought she could see black dots swirl in his sclera before vanishing.

“I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?” Twilight asked tentatively.

“We were just discussing how you are dealing with the publicity. You know, to go from, well, nothing to everything?” Twilight bit her lip.

“Well, it's been a challenge, to say the least.”

“A challenge?” he chuckled. A few laughs and polite giggles followed from the crowd. “Are you not the Princess of Friendship?” He turned his head back toward the shapeless features of the crowd, and as he took in the darkness.

“I wasn’t always,” Twilight answered a bit too quickly if the interviewer's face was any indication.

He smiled slyly, his low lip quivering briefly as if some startling revelation had been laid bare. “That’s right. You were once just a regular old unicorn, weren’t you?”

That look had only stirred discomfort in her—a dread, but less than it should have, though she could not discern why. She gulped; her throat was dry, and the heat was a haze.

“That’s correct.” She cleared her throat. “It's only a relatively short time since I was a student.” She laughed nervously. “In many ways, I’m still learning.”

“I suppose that is true,” the Host agreed. He clicked his tongue in contemplation. “From what your teachers say, you were a model student.” Twilight smiled at that. “But there’s some rumours you had a… predilection to nervous behaviours. Do you have a problem with nerves?” Twilight blinked several times.

“No, w-well. Perhaps from time to time in the past.” She straightened herself up in her seat. The Host seemed to loom closer than before.“I don’t listen to gossip,” Twilight stated firmly. An inquisitive eyebrow lingered upward on the stallion’s face.

“No recent anxiety-induced episodes? That’s all this is? Just gossip?”

“Y-yes.”

“But wasn’t there a time from Ponyville of some magical misplaced mishap? About a unicorn casting forbidden attraction magic on a young doll?” The Host smiled enough to show teeth. The crowd let forth soft gasps and ‘oohs’.

“T-that–”

“Requiring the intervention of a certain sun princess,” he finished promptly; the crowd rumbled dangerously.

“I made a mistake,” Twilight answered. She instinctively tugged on her mane. “It was some time ago. I have learned since then.”

“Oh really?” He hummed deeply to himself before eyeing the audience. “But it wasn’t the last time?” Twilight’s brows furrowed, and she gulped audibly.

“I don’t follow.”

“Well, I am no gossip merchant, upstanding monarchist that I am, but less than scrupulous sources allege the palace is practically awash with tales of a princess on the verge of collapse.” A shocked chorus of gasps rang out around them. “The Princess of Friendship is working herself into a frenzy over planning festivals and summits, unable to control the sun and moon without obsessing over their minute placement in the sky. An embarrassingly unhinged display on a trivia night of all things.” The shocked silence turned into a gaggle of laughs. Twilight shrunk against her seat.

“Sometimes I take my duties a bit too seriously,” she tried to speak over the din.

“Do your meltdowns impact your duties?” he asked, regardless of the furore. Twilight’s eyes widened in horror at the implication.

“No, absolutely not. I have control of my anxiety. I haven’t had an incident in months.”

“Months? So, they have happened recently.” He laughed deeply, a hollow and raspy thing. “Oh, how fortunate you are only in the most anxiety-inducing position in the entire world.” A chortling chorus of his fans followed his laugh.

“No, I’m better,” Twilight snapped. “My friends have helped me–”

“And when are they not there?”

“W-what?”

“Who will be there to hold your hoof?” he hummed. “To make sure you're not broken. So Equestria isn’t paralysed because its gracious leader can’t think without a list by her side!” His roar riled the crowd. Boos and sighs of disgust rang out.

“N-no, please,” she pleaded, her head spinning between the crowd and looking at the host aghast. “I just. Sometimes it's not easy to–.” Twilight would have given anything for the blasted lights. Yet even though every instinct told her to leave, to get away, she could not. An unseen force froze her in place to bear the noise of condemnation.

“In how they can’t handle the slightest bit of stress. What will you do when things go wrong? Why would our esteemed Princess of Friendship lie down, unable to function? Would you lead Equestria to total ruin?!” His audience took up the call. Their words pelted, as harsh as stones.

“Not worthy.”

“She’s unwell.”

“Fraud!”

“Freak!”

“How can you manage the whole world when you can barely manage yourself?” the Host snapped with disgust. He recoiled from her as if her anxiety were a contagious fume.

“No,” Twilight cried. No. This isn’t right.” Twilight placed her hooves over her ears. She shut her eyes, but the hateful voices still followed. Her words came about with no filter or consideration, just the whimpers of a mare that had had enough. “I-I. No, stop. I didn’t mean it. You’re wrong. I can do this. Celestia chose me. She chose me. She chose me!”

“Princess?”

Twilight blinked blearily through tired eyes. Ears strained at the mention of words in her direction. She turned her head.

“Councillor Drew Drops, you must forgive me. It seems I have lost track of the conversation.” She smiled slightly towards the greying bearded stallion across the vast meeting room table. Other ponies present looked on with curious glances but said nothing.

“Ah, as you wish, Princess. I was merely asking for your opinion on the potential schedule amendments to the proposed charter for establishing a cargo company to take over the train line between Trottingham and Baltimore. The current costs are exuberant to the Crown. I had the figures here somewhere on a previous slide. Um, it’s one or two b-back.” He turned to the clipboard and furiously tried to find the place where he had left them.

Twilight found her head dropping again. It went unnoticed amongst most of the room except to her side, where her ever-faithful assistant looked on in concern. He whispered as the speaker regained his place.

“You good, Twilight? I know it’s not exactly exciting, but this is only our second meeting today.”

“I’m fine, Spike,” she answered out the side of her mouth, never taking her eyes from the speaker, making sure to nod as he tediously repeated balances and budget calculations. “I just slept badly last night.”

Spike nodded and returned to the speech. But throughout the day, he was keenly aware whenever Twilight yawned or was not her usual meticulous self. Spike shrugged it off. Everypony had off days, he supposed.