That New Magic: The Origin of Love

I never wanted to be an object of admiration.

I just wanted to be another face in the herd.

There was nothing more important to me, when I was in my teens, than fitting in. It seemed to be so easy for some ponies, with no stress or panic in their voice when they talked, and no fear in their eyes.

But for me, school was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

One thing that most ponies take for granted is that clothes are an optional adornment to our world, a lovely thing that we can don when desired but that are no more necessary than a hat.

I never went without a loose skirt, not a single day.

My mother tried to insist that I leave my shame and frustration aside and just be whatever I am, but I was singularly unique, and in school it did not serve to be unique.

“Cadance!”

I flinched, and turned to look at the stallion calling my name. Shining Armor, one of many well meaning ponies that had tried to pull me into a social group that I couldn’t belong to. Not without risk.

“What do you need, Shining?” I asked.

The voice training was working, at least. I could force my voice to behave, and track the breathy intonations of each word required to remind the world of the play that I was putting on.

It was ‘waht’ with an exhale, and not ‘whut’ with a sharp T. It was ‘Shy-neng’ with an upturned note at the end, not ‘Shine-ing’ with a downturn.

I could almost feel normal if I broke it all down into pieces.

“I was wondering if you wanted an excuse to skip Mark’s-day. I have a doctor’s appointment that day, and if you were there for emotional support…”

He trailed off with a lack of confidence in his voice and bearing, his head low and smile crooked.

The jocks might make fun of him for it all, for his lack of strength, but they’d never truly doubt his place in the world. Not like me. I was not allowed to contain such flaws, or I’d be ripped apart.

“Why… would I want to skip Mark’s-day?” I finally sighed.

It had to be some kind of ploy to spend time with me, as he’d invited me to no less than four different O&O games, and to his birthday party.

Who even had birthday parties at sixteen, anyway? Well, more accurately, who invited random losers to them?

Shining Armor, the biggest sucker in Canterlot.

He hesitated, clearly not expecting the question, but after a bit he stepped uncomfortably close to whisper his reply.

“Well, because you’re a late-bloomer, right? You don’t have a mark yet?”

I couldn’t stop the laugh before it left my mouth, and I covered up the harsh unbecoming noise with my hoof and a fake cough, though I was still smiling.

“Shining, I have a cutie mark,” I finally admitted, putting my hoof down.

“Oh! Sorry, I thought because you always dressed up…” he blushed heavily, and for a moment I genuinely felt bad for him.

He was trying to help. He’d offered me a way out of something that most ponies wouldn’t have even thought of bothering me, even if his guess was wrong.

“Shining… I dress up because… I don’t look right, under all this,” I said vaguely as I gestured at my button up blouse and flowing white skirt. “Okay? I just… don’t want ponies staring at me.”

“So I shouldn’t stare at you because I think you’re beautiful?” he asked, confused.

It was my turn to blush, as I cleared my throat.

“I just told you that I’m a freak, Shining Armor,” I said firmly. “I don’t think you understand what I mean, or you wouldn’t say that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

“Cadance, I… I don’t know what you look like, under your clothes, but I don’t think you should call yourself a freak. Do you prefer Handsome?”

I snorted, but I couldn’t talk, the tightness in my throat threatening to let spill the darker side of my voice, as I turned away shook my head.

He tried to apologize, as I left, but he shouldn’t have.

It was the first crack in a wall that had to come down, for me to survive.

Almost a year later, I finally responded to his invite, and went to his birthday party. I remember exactly what I wore. I was trying out shorts and pants at the time, really pushing the mold but also trying tighter fitting clothes that could let me feel more secure about running or moving around quickly without a skirt blowing up. The jogging shorts and t-shirt combination looked good, and it was another step towards being comfortable flying around other ponies.

But flying in public was for another day. That day, I was just attending a birthday party for a nerd. I arrived at Shining’s parent’s house half an hour early.

Everything in the house was draped in white ribbons and blue stars, and I paused at the front gate to watch through the window.

He was laughing as he held his little sister up above his head in his magic, so she could pin another blue star to the wall. He looked… genuine. He didn’t look like he was just pretending to be a good brother, or pretending to be nice for the sake of some reward. He was as genuine as I’d ever seen, and I think that’s when I started to fall in love with him.

Love was a painful topic for me, back then. My full name is, when translated from the language of the Italioats, ‘I love cadence.’

The rhythm, the beat of life. I was supposed to be a representation of love for the passage of time. For the patterns of life.

But I didn't. I called myself Cadance instead, because I wanted to live for myself, to dance, not just count the time passing.

But looking at Shining Armor through the bay windows, I saw somepony that seemed to be happy with the passage of time. He wasn't fighting it, bitter and conflicted like I was.

I knocked on the door, of course, and they opened it quickly.

“Cadance!” Shining said, freezing as though he’d stepped in glue. “You came!”

“Cadance!” his sister echoed, smiling up at me.

“Yes, I’m Cadance,” I agreed as I dared to smile a little bit, even though I felt it made me look more masculine than I wanted. “What’s your name?”

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said, standing tall and holding out a hoof. “It’s a please-sure to meet your ack-waintance.”

“And a pleasure to meet yours as well,” I chuckled as I shook her hoof. “May I come in?”

“Yes!”

Twilight galloped back into the house as I walked past Shining Armor, who still seemed a bit stunned.

“Sorry I’m early,” I offered.

“No, no, please don’t apologize,” he insisted. “I just… I didn’t think you’d come! I thought for sure I ruined any chance at being friends with uh… the whole blank-flank thing!”

I sighed, smiling still a little as I sat and fluffed my wings.

“Shining Armor, I think we could be friends,” I admitted. “If your sister allows it.”

“Yes!” Twilight shouted from the kitchen.

“No eavesdropping, Twilight!” Shining whined as his sister giggled and ran to another room.

For a moment, as he smiled and his shoulders relaxed, I wanted to ask him why I wasn’t a freak. I wanted to open up his mind and figure out what made him care so genuinely about so many other things, but not what was under my clothes. I wanted to interrogate him, find a truth spell and figure out what he really thought.

But that moment of selfish insecurity faded and I took a breath.

“So, how can I help set up?”

It seemed most of the party was ready to go. Shining Armor’s father was home, though he was quite busy organizing his study, but he did introduce himself and made sure to point out that there was no alcohol or drugs at this birthday party, turning Shining an amusing shade of red.

But in its innocence, the party excelled.

Packs of soda opened up on the living room table, chips and dip on the counter, and pizza was on order to be delivered soon. But what caught my eye was the setup in the living room.

A diorama, or perhaps a game board about two ponies long by four ponies wide, made out of carved wood and folded paper. It looked like a cave system, with delicate rocky ledges and wood beams made of popsicle sticks holding up an invisible roof, little flashlights in strategic spots lit it in dramatic angles. I walked over to examine it, which seemed to cause a bit of a panic in Shining.

“Oh, that’s… My friends wanted to play a session, you don’t have to… We can play any time,” Shining stammered.

“Do you not want me to play?” I asked softly, turning to look him in the eyes.

He froze again. He seemed to have a habit of doing that. I wondered if it was because I was just as tall as him, if I scared him, if I was too intense.

“I… would… like you to play if it wouldn’t be annoying to you?” he proposed in a nervous pitch that I thought my voice coach would call ‘shrill.’

“I want to play,” I decided.

“Okay,” he breathed, soft and reverent. “Then we need to make a character. Quick, before the others get here, otherwise I’ll be distracted.”