Starlight Glimmer drifted through the haze of dream, her mind archiving only fleeting feelings and ideas from the threads it unspooled around her. Later, she would only recall the warmth of feeling and the idea of simply being present with a pony she can't remember, but who would certainly be out of her league.
This is why, when she was suddenly yanked free by a sharp rap on her bedroom door, her emotions spiked with frustration, quickly followed by the groggy confusion of a rude awakening. The knock came again, not the clumsy clop of a hoof on wood, but the short staccato taps of a creature actually possessed of knuckles. Taking her time to wake up as she hauled herself free of the covers and across the floor to the door, Starlight was not at all surprised to find Spike.
The little dragon wore a scowl, and without even a preamble, he let himself in and threw himself onto a beanbag chair that, Starlight had to admit, she kept around just for him. A few beats of silence dragged on towards infinity before Starlight broke it with a polite cough, “Soooo… How was the trip to the Crystal Empire?”
Spike threw his claws towards the ceiling, tipping back in the soft fabric of the chair, “Oh it was great. Shining Armor and Cadance are great! The baby is doing great! Even Sunburst is juuust great!”
“That's, um, great then?” Starlight raised an eyebrow waiting for the other horseshoe to drop.
“It's always great! Right up until we get home and Twilight starts moping about it!” He let out a snort of frustration, a gout of green flame following quickly behind it. “You've gotta do something. I've had enough.”
Starlight Glimmer blinked, absorbing this. It was rare for Twilight to be out and about much the day after a trip to the Crystal Empire, but that's just normal isn't it? Everypony could use a bit of rest after a big trip, right? And what is there even to mope about when everything is going well, why would she have to do- “Hang on a second, why me? If she's upset about something, whatever it is, doesn't she have friends for that? Not that I'm not her friend, I mean of course I am, I lllike, yeah, really really like her, but you know what I mean!” She clamped her hooves to her snout before her running mouth could cross the finish line.
Spike rolled his eyes and lifted up his claws to count off each finger, “Yeah they'd cheer her up real quick. Pinkie Pie would throw her a cheer-up party, Applejack would bring her a dozen apple fritters, Fluttershy thinks Angel can cure anything, Rainbow Dash would drag her out flying, and Rarity…” He blinked as he momentarily lost the train of thought, “Well a new outfit and a gallon of ice cream aren't going to solve the real problem.”
Starlight, still feeling a bit funny in the pit of her stomach, freed her mouth enough to ask, “But what is the real problem, Spike?”
As if he'd been waiting for the punchline of a joke, as if he simply couldn't help himself, Spike cracked a smirk, “I don't know, I think it's some kind of Mare Thing.” With that, his legs kicked up and his body reclined into the gentle hug of the chair, and with impressive speed, he began to snore.
Being the clear-headed, reasonable, down to earth mare that she is, Starlight chose to nervously pace about two halls down from Twilight's bedroom, so as not to disturb her. She couldn't put the pieces together. If the trip went well, where was the problem? Was there an issue she couldn't tell Spike? Could there be something wrong with the baby? But the baby was already born so that didn't seem much like a Mare Thing to her.
It wasn't long before other panicked thoughts began to worm their way into her head. Was Spike really right about Twilight's friends? Surely they'd be a better fit for the job than a reformed villain. If anybody had moped on her watch she would have tried to magic them better and call it a day. She hardly even deserved to be friends with somebody as great as Twilight, hardly even deserved…
No, she almost spoke aloud, Twilight says I deserve friendship. Twilight says I deserve the world. The words felt so hollow bouncing around her skull rather than right from the mouth of the beloved princess, but Starlight still clung to them like a life raft. If Twilight thinks I deserve the world, then she at least deserves my help.
As it turned out, beginning her pacing so far away was neither clear-headed nor reasonable, as each step closer built up the nerves and anticipation in her head. The sound of her hoof against the solid wooden door was like a thundercrack, echoing down the hall both ways, then drifting back to her. The latch clicked, and the hinge let out a soft whine as the door cracked open. Starlight Glimmer took a heavy breath and nosed her way through.
“Twilight?” She murmured into the gloom, just barely making out the purple silhouette sprawled across the bed. From what she could see by the sliver of light cast from the door, the room seemed perfect, almost untouched. It looked as if Twilight hadn't done anything but lay in bed since returning from the Crystal Empire.
“Oh, Starlight, I'm so sorry, were we scheduled for a lesson today? I'm afraid I'm a bit tired from my trip, we'll have to reschedule.” The quiver in Twilight Sparkle’s voice almost overrode every rational thought in Starlight's head. She wanted to rush over and hug and kiss and nuzzle Twilight and fix everything that was wrong, everything that could possibly be wrong.
Instead, reason won out, “Oh, haha, no, you didn't forget a lesson plan or anything, believe me. Spike was just… Concerned about you.” She did her best to phrase it diplomatically, ‘sick and tired of you’ seemed to lack tact. “And now maybe I am too.”
Twilight lifted her head, her mane a frizzing mess and her eyes wet with sparkles catching that stray beam of light. She forced a smile, “Really, Starlight, I'm just tired. There's nothing to be worried about, nothing's wrong, I'm just… Just not fooling you, am I?” There was a gentle thud as her head flopped back to its resting place.
All of Starlight's screaming nerves were subsumed by one thought, utterly cool and collected, she really does need my help. I have to help her. Resolve washed through her, calming the agitation of her anticipation. Here she was, and here she was needed.
In one smooth motion, she closed the door, slid a sitting stool from the vanity to the bedside, and marched her way to it. She was resolute now, and it showed in her confident trek across the room to the seat in near pitch-black. “Twilight, it's bad enough that Spike doesn't think a Pinkie Pie Party and a gallon tub of ice cream could fix you. What's the matter?”
The princess was close now, her sprawled form closest to the edge of the bed Starlight sat beside. She is moping, Starlight decided, this isn't something new, some bad news she got in the Crystal Empire. It's something she's been feeling, maybe something she's always feeling. Her heart gave a pang, a twinge, a cry of need, but her head held steady.
“Do you worry about your legacy, Starlight?” Twilight's voice was hollow and reedy, no longer putting on a brave face. Starlight was caught off guard by the gravity of the question, and Twilight must have taken her silence for confusion. “Do you think about what you'll leave behind? That you might not be here one day, that you'll only exist in records and memories?”
Starlight did her best to recover from the surprise, “Twilight, if I'm leaving any kind of legacy, it's in the history books as one of the villains you defeated. Maybe at best I go down in the annals of history as the unicorn you fixed, and probably both of those are better than being the unicorn who stole what made everypony special.” She tried a small laugh for some levity, but the echo in reply felt harsh in her ears. “Is this about you? Have you been thinking about your legacy? You're the Princess of Friendship, what legacy could you have but a good one!”
“You're right. I am the Princess of Friendship.” Starlight didn't think she was just imagining the bitter venom in Twilight's voice. “That's what everypony expects of me. What I was made into, or what I became.”
“You've brought princesses back together, saved empires, toppled dictators, and saved Equestria Celestia-knows how many times. And she does know because you've got a stained glass window in Canterlot for every one of them!” Starlight could feel her steady resolve slowly peeling back as the weight of the princess’s concern, not even fully revealed, began to settle up on her. “I don't know what you're worrying about, but your legacy is secure. Everypony adores you. You're going to live for a thousand thousand years, you are your own legacy!”
Twilight's head snapped up, her silhouette jerking in the dark and startling Starlight backwards in her seat. If Starlight could see Twilight's eyes, she was certain there would be a fire blazing in them. But just as quickly as the fire formed, it blew out and Twilight's form sagged once again, “Right. Princess of Friendship. That's me. Forever.”
Panic and concern were truly clawing their way back in now, “Twilight, please, I don't understand what's got you so upset. Do you not like being Princess? I'm sure we could figure something out to take the pressure off, but I need you to tell me what's wrong.” She let her horn cast just the dimmest light, enough to show Twilight the sympathy on her face.
In the light, Twilight's face fell further. “It's… it's nothing, Starlight. I thought maybe I'd be able to talk to you about it, but you're the same as the rest. You should go, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your adoring me.” Starlight didn't have a chance to respond before there was a blinding flash of magic, a spinning vertigo sensation, and she found herself sitting outside of Twilight's bedroom door.
As tears began to sting at the corners of her eyes, Starlight Glimmer was left with the despair that she had just missed something important, something so crucial and fleeting she'd never find it again.
Three days later, life in Ponyville was back to normal. After a day of what Twilight Sparkle assured everypony was relaxing and rejuvenating, she had resumed her routine in impressive fashion, so much so that even Spike believed the issue solved. Everything was as it should be, and everypony was happy, except for Starlight Glimmer, who was playing hooky on her friendship lessons.
Camped in the castle library, Starlight's typical slate of grimoires, tomes, and assorted spell books had been replaced by stacks of treatises and histories on the Equestrian princesses. Every few minutes she hastily scribbled a note to be transported and re-rendered on the conspiratorial pinboard that now occupied one wall of her room.
There was an ache deep in her heart, a feeling of betrayal that Twilight had not even once come to scold her for missing lessons. Was she not worth it anymore, if all she could offer the princess was the same adoration she could get from anypony? Did she speak some unforgivable treason she was unaware of? These thoughts threatened to consume her, and so in turn she consumed her work, devouring pages upon pages of literature on the legacy of a princess, of all the princesses. Nothing eased the hurt.
Every time she stared at her board of pins and pictures and quotes, replaying every sentence of their conversation, every word, she felt the wound in her chest loom large, threatening to spill out every piece of her. She didn't know pain like this. She didn't know friendship could hurt so much. Night stole away the day, and day sheared away the night, and all Starlight could do is dig into that pain, bury herself in it, torture herself upon it.
And out of her chest, out of the pain of feeling what she forced herself to feel, she was startled to find revelation. More than just friendship can hurt like this. The notion was so simple, so foalish, so obvious. She just had to laugh, and the laugh found its way free as a choked sob.
The Princess of Friendship was lonely!
Twilight Sparkle was in her study, sequestered behind walls of books with parapets of notepaper. The extensive plans for the school's construction and curriculum provided safe haven to tend to her growing exhaustion, her cheeks and mouth sore from putting on a brave face. She didn't want to worry her friends, but something had caved inside of her. She felt hollow.
She flinched at the sudden knock on the door, mustering up a smile. “Come in!” She called, offering a silent prayer to Celestia for it to be anypony other than-
But of course it was Starlight Glimmer. Twilight knew it was only a matter of time, that she could only avoid her for so long before Starlight would come calling, come asking questions and demanding answers that would peel apart her fragile shell. She opened her mouth to speak. To greet her. To apologize for their missed lessons or maybe beg her to forget they even talked. To explain that she really was just tired and it was all nothing. She didn't get a single word out.
“No. No, I'm… I'm talking, and you're going to listen, Twilight,” Starlight was punctuated by her hooves nervous clopping against the floor. Twilight closed her mouth and Starlight almost looked surprised when she did. “Because you're wrong, you're so wrong. Your friends don't- I mean, for them, it's not just blind adoration. They care about you so much! Princess or not, savior of Equestria or not, they love you so much! And I'm sure if you wanted to- to be with any one of those five then they'd know they're the luckiest mare in all of Equestria, maybe even the world.” Starlight's face fell as she managed to finish her speech, “You don't have to be lonely, Twilight, please don't choose to be…”
The lump in Twilight's throat was big enough to choke on. She shook her head, blinking back tears. “You don't get it. Being a princess isn't just doing whatever you like. Telling me to just pick one of them like they're a litter of puppies to take home?” Twilight felt like she was back in her room just a few days ago, torn down the middle by rage and despair, “You ponies don't think about the implication! The look of it! Princess of Friendship and her 5 special friends, but that one is more special than the others!” Her blood was boiling as she rose from the desk.
Starlight shrank back, knowing she'd just lost her initiative but trying regardless to respond, “But- I didn't- Did you… Talk to somepony else…?”
Twilight had too much momentum to acknowledge her, “It's so easy for the Princess of Loooove to give advice, but it's practically her whole job! It's not my job to fall in love with my friends, no matter how deeply they care for me, no matter how well they know me or how vulnerable I can be with them, they're just my friends!” She was panting now, her throat catching on the top of each breath, “And that's it for me. That's all I get. That's my legacy.”
Starlight stared at her for a long moment, an eternity under that sympathetic and almost fearful gaze. “Twilight…” Her voice was warm, and it didn't shake, “Don't you think Princess Cadance has friends?”
“What?” Twilight's brain began to chase itself in circles trying to figure out where Starlight was leading her, “Of course she does, she had bridesmaids at her wedding and everything.”
“So…?” Starlight had broken into a smirk now, no longer meek in the face of a princess’s wrath.
“So what? What's that got to do with anything! Do you even understand what we're talking about? This isn't about just friends, or, or it is but that's the problem!”
“So the Princess of Love seems to do a fine job even if she's got perfectly normal friendships. Certainly she's not stepping on your hooves…?” The question in her voice made it so painfully obvious Twilight couldn't help but slap a hoof to her face and groan.
“Okay, I get it, the Princess of Love can have friends, so the Princess of Friendship can… Be in love.” She managed to get the words out with some dignity, but by now her frustration had cooled into flustered embarrassment. “But I can't just pick and choose one of my five best friends in the whole world!”
“Maybe you're right about that. Maybe it's not fair to pick one of them, maybe it really would, I don't know, undermine the geopolitics of Equestrian friendship. You're right that maybe us normal ponies don't think about that sort of thing,” Starlight closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh, “but maybe there's some other pony in your life who you could care about that way. Some other pony you can talk to, somepony who might not totally get all the princess stuff but she's always there to listen and…” She trailed off, suddenly finding some corner of the room very interesting to stare at.
Twilight couldn't help but look at her, really look at her. This mare who was driven to evil, this mare whose heart was filled with good once she found her way to it. She grinned, “Starlight, do you mean-”
“OOookay well that's all I wanted to say I hope you feel better Twilight gotta go BYE!” There was a surge of magic and a flurry of loose leaf paper, and Twilight was alone in the study once again.
High up on a hill overlooking Ponyville, a tiny purple speck of an alicorn labored meticulously over her preparations. Ever the perfectionist, she worried over the precise angle of the blanket, the exact arrangement of the basket, the layout of the silverware. Really, it was all set, as it had been an hour ago when she had first began to double check, triple check. In the middle of check number 15, she froze, catching the distant sounds of two good friends bantering as a wagon clunked its way up the hill.
The wagon crested, bearing Trixie and a blindfolded Starlight, who immediately began to pester Trixie as to why they stopped. Twilight watched from a distance as they approached, Starlight guided by Trixie. As they reached the blanket, Twilight undid Starlight's blindfold and let the breeze take it away.
“That was Trixie's blindfold, you know,” Trixie grumbled just as Starlight registered the sight in front of her and froze stiff.
“Yes, Trixie, I'll get you a new one, thank you Trixie.” Twilight replied, distracted, her eyes not leaving Starlight for a moment. She still wasn't sure if the unicorn was about to bolt.
“Ahem,” Trixie enunciated, not even actually clearing her throat.
“And I'll send Spike with the books later. Some space please?” Satisfied with that, the wagon turned and began to rumble its way back down the hill. Twilight patted an open spot on the picnic blanket, “Please Starlight, sit with me? You don't have to say anything.”
Starlight nodded and stiffly folded herself down onto the blanket. Her eyes finally wandered away from Twilight and towards the view, encompassing all of Ponyville from the town square to where Sweet Apple Acres met the horizon. It was beautiful, she realized. It was home. She stole a glance at Twilight and found her looking out from the hill as well. However, the alicorn wasn't staring to the horizon. Her eyes bore straight into the center of town. Following her gaze, Starlight found herself looking at a sight she'd certainly seen, and certainly disregarded. It was some kind of ruin in the middle of town, a burned out tree with a pile of rubble around it.
“There used to be a library here. I lived there when I first moved to Ponyville. I'm sure it was Celestia’s idea, that I'd be more comfortable in a new place as long as I had my books. When I think about the last time I felt normal, when I felt like I knew who I was and what I was supposed to be, I think about the library.” Twilight's gaze dropped towards the picnic basket, fishing out tea preparations kept suitably warm with magic. She poured cups for the both of them, sugar for Starlight remembered as always, continuing on, “It was destroyed by a villain who only came here for me. All those ponies in danger, just for me. That's when it stopped feeling normal. That's when I stopped being anypony and started being a princess.”
Starlight took her tea with a quiet thanks, eyes still locked on the charred husk of the Golden Oak Library. She thought of the history of Princess Twilight Sparkle, ascended long before Starlight Glimmer had ever met her. She thought of the records of the still-living mare’s deeds. The way those records capture the hero, the myth, the Princess and not the pony. Her head was spinning and her traitorous tongue was done with anticipation, “Twilight, I-”
“I'm not done yet, Starlight,” Twilight chided gently, smiling and turning her gaze towards the unicorn, “You see right through me, even now you're guessing what I'm going to say. You see right through Princess Twilight Sparkle. Maybe you don't even see the princess at all. You saw me, Twilight Sparkle, your friend, in need. You see Twilight Sparkle who deserves more than just a friend. Don't you deserve that too, Starlight? Would you even let yourself think so?”
Starlight tried to keep a calm face by taking a sip of her tea, but the perfection of the flavor, the care apparent in its creation battered at her heart and made her sputter. She coughed and hacked and turned away, words lost to her entirely. Twilight gave her space, looking back out to the horizon. There was a comfortable quiet, broken only by wind through grass and the occasional slurp of tea. Starlight spent most of that time trying to put the right words in the right order.
“Twilight, even if I do- did like you… like that. It's not right! You're my teacher, a princess, and I tried to ruin your life, I was a villain. No, it wouldn't be right.” There was a desperate edge to Starlight's voice, uncertain who she even meant to convince.
Twilight just smiled that gentle smile and patted a spot right next to her, “You don't have to be a villain and I don't have to be a princess. Maybe together we're just Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer.” She tilted her head back, encouraging Starlight over again. Starlight hesitated, then finally, awkwardly scooted herself next to Twilight.
The sun had begun to set and the air was cooling, but Twilight laid one long wing over Starlight's shoulders like a blanket. Together, they watched the golds and reds and oranges of the dying day wash over Ponyville.
“I think I love you, Starlight Glimmer.”
“I think I love you too, Twilight Sparkle.”
Starlight closed her eyes, content to enjoy the warmth and presence of a pony who was definitely out of her league. She shut her eyes, and dreamed.
It was a gorgeous day in Equestria. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the sky was clear and blue, perfect basking weather! So Spike still wasn’t sure how he’d found himself in the library with Starlight Glimmer blabbing typical unicorn magic nonsense at him. Her mane was a mess, and she could probably use a wash even by his own lax standards. He wasn’t sure how her new marefriend felt about that, but given neither of them had left the castle in the past couple days, it apparently wasn’t an issue.
“So that’s why I just had to do a liiiiittle tweak using Star Swirl’s time spell and-” The sound of Starlight’s voice filtered back into his consciousness just in time to catch her saying something quite alarming. He gave a yelp, then quickly covered his mouth with his claws.
“Could you repeat that last part?” It didn’t sound like magic nonsense, it sounded like dangerous magic nonsense.
Starlight rolled her eyes, “I was saying, for your information, that the thaumic instability inherent in time magic is inescapable, not to mention the immense energetic burden, so I’m only using pieces of Star Swirl’s spell to target and create divergent histories, but only in memory.”
“Okay, one more time, but you’re talking to Spike the dragon and not your special somepony.” He gave her a smug smirk, but something strange seemed to fade behind Starlight’s eyes. Or he was imagining things.
“Time loops bad, memories easy, so you don’t change history, just the memory of history!” She grinned and bounced in place, barely containing her excitement, “You get a do-over! You can replay the events exactly how you want and that’s how they’ll remember it.”
“I still don’t get it. So you can change a pony's memories, but whose? And why?”
“Have you listened to a word I’ve been saying?” She fixed him a stern look, then snorted and shook her head, “Nevermind, I know the answer to that. The point is, only Twilight and I know what happened between us, so we’re the only ones there to remember it, and I can re-do it. As far as I know, I’m… Her first, you know, in general, and I can do better. She deserves better!”
“Leaving aside why you think a twilight picnic on the edge of town is a less-than-perfect place for that sort of thing, what do I have to do with any of this? It sounds like it’s between you and her.” A fleeting part of Spike was hoping for an out, but he didn’t like the panicked edge in Starlight’s voice. Nopony casts sensible magical spells while sounding like that, and this pony least of all.
Starlight at least had the grace to look a bit embarrassed, “Well, you know how Twilight is always telling me I need to work on my complex spellwork? That I can’t just run off gut instinct all the time? Let’s call this practice. It should be fine. It’ll be fine.”
“And you’re sure that manipulating Twilight’s memory to what you want is something that a good marefriend would do?”
He could tell he’d struck home by the way Starlight chose not to hear him, mumbling to herself about needing to prepare. She swept aside papers and books and nearly painted the floor with a stray pot of ink, spared only by her sharp use of magic. She centered a scroll scrawled with runes and figures and made a grand show of scanning through each step of preparations. A cushion joined her from across the room and she took a comfortable seat, breathing deep. The inkpot floated to the floor, and from it long strings of ink were carried aloft by magic and neatly arranged into complex geometries around the unicorn. Spike quickly found cover behind a particularly solid looking chair. The inkpot returned to its home on the desk and Starlight breathed a sigh, a hush falling over the room.
“It should only take a couple minutes at most, Spike. Any more than that and… Well it’s probably a bad grade on complex spellwork.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it seemed to echo all the same. Spike couldn’t even fake a laugh for the attempt at levity, his whole body tensed. Starlight nodded, closed her eyes, and began to cast her spell. There was an immediate shift in the pressure of the room and he huddled further into cover, his claws digging furrows in the wood. Starlight’s horn began to spark its distinctive mint. Even Spike, in his ignorance of formal magical theory, knew visible sparking magic was the scariest kind. The runes around Starlight began to pulse the color of her aura, then her eyes burst with color and she floated from her cushion. The angles of the room seemed to warp impossibly, and Spike shut his eyes tight.
Suddenly, the world seemed to snap back to normalcy, the pressure fading, the only sound the faint twinkle of a channeled spell. When Spike finally felt brave enough to look, he found the room the same as it ever was, except for Starlight, still floating in the center of the room, her eyes a wash of minty light.
Starlight came to in inky blackness, but she wasn't scared. The rumbling and bouncing of the wagon and the distant, vague sound of Trixie’s idle chatter brought comfort, a contrast to the anticipation and worry that had plagued her the last time she was on this ride. Trixie’s voice wasn't clear enough to make out words, but that made sense enough. This was Twilight's memory of that evening, and she didn't hear or remember their conversation, just the chatter itself.
Starlight took the opportunity to review. This spell did not create a time loop, but rather simulated one from the memories of the participants. Hilariously cumbersome, and completely infeasible for any event involving more than just a couple ponies, but Starlight had only written it with one memory in mind. With a simple flex of her magic muscles, the merest twist of the fabric of this dreamscape, Starlight could reset her evening encounter with Twilight and do it over again. Do it over and over again until it was exactly perfect. A thought in the back of her mind reminded her that it wasn't all easygoing. If she changed events too drastically, the whole model might lose its integrity with her inside, and she had no clue what that could cause. She tried not to worry herself, after all, how badly could she possibly mess it up?
Pretty badly, as it turned out. Not enough to disrupt the spell, but certainly bad enough. It had been a few loops now, the first ones spent getting her bearings and squaring Twilight's recollection of the evening with her own memories. This time, she had tried to be more forward about her feelings, more open. She thought that's how friends ought to act in situations like this, but that somehow made it worse. Twilight's whole speech had fizzled, and she looked more and more awkward as Starlight found herself growing more and more insistent. Maybe by the end of the memory they both would have found their footing, but it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. It wasn't the perfect memory for Twilight.
Reset.
Back in the darkness of the wagon, she breathed a sigh and revisited her mental map. She held fast to the knowledge that she could always finish this by leaving things the same, by simply playing her part in the memory that was here in the first place. This was her lifeline even as she dove into all the branching possibilities, the causes and effects, action and simulated reaction. The more she came to rely on the idea of leaving it all alone, the further away the option seemed.
If she couldn't properly ask her own marefriend, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, Element of Magic, out on a date, then what did she even have to offer a pony as great as that? The princess’s words hung in the back of her mind, but Starlight couldn't make herself believe them. How could she be just Twilight Sparkle when it was Princess Twilight Sparkle that had saved her life?
She sighed heavily as she settled down onto the picnic blanket, having robotically maneuvered through the opening moves of this game. The difference was enough to catch Twilight's attention. Rather than her usual line, she asked, “Is everything okay, Starlight?”
Starlight figured there was no harm in chatting. She could always reset things, and who better to ask for advice about Twilight Sparkle than Twilight Sparkle herself. Or at least the magical manifestation of her self-identity. “Twilight, how would you want somepony to ask you to be their special somepony…?” Her question was hesitant, wary that this could offset the memory too far and destabilize the spell. Nothing seemed to change as she asked, so she let her anticipatory grimace relax.
Twilight simply grinned and began to serve the tea much earlier than usual for the loop. She doled out the cups, poured out the tea, and floated over Starlight's requisite amount of sugar, as precise as every time before. When she had finished, she cast her gaze back to the town below. Everything outside her view faded into a watercolor splash of hazy recollection. “I think I'd like my special somepony to treat me to a nice picnic on a hill overlooking town. I'd like to share a meal, and tea, and tell them all about how much they've helped me grow, the struggles they've helped me overcome even if they don't even notice. And then I'd like to tell them I love them, and they'd tell me they love me too. That's what I imagine is perfect.” Twilight's head tilted back, inviting Starlight closer, patting the spot next to her, that place of warmth where Twilight's wing would cover Starlight, keep her safe and smother the torment she'd created for herself. Starlight could just let it go, let it fade, let this be as close to perfection as she can dream. She could just-
Reset.
Starlight had lost count of the loops now. With each new reset, she threw herself into the labyrinth of choices, never quite bold enough for bravado, but fearing in the back of her mind that she would never one-up what Twilight had already planned. The limits of this memory were too narrow. She couldn't create something new from its essence, only find new ways to replay the same ending. She gave a long, steady groan of frustration as the wagon hauled to a stop once again.
At this point she didn't even need Trixie's guidance to march from the wagon, stop in just the right spot, watch her vision return as the blindfold drifted free. She grumbled again as she folded herself down onto the picnic blanket, all her frustrations chasing each other in circles around her head.
Just as Twilight was about to launch into her speech, the same one as always, Starlight rolled her eyes, “Twilight, could you maybe not this time?”
“I just wanted to talk a little, but if you'd prefer some peace and quiet, I'm okay with that too,” Twilight looked confused and not just a little bit concerned, “But what do you mean ‘this time?’”
Starlight chewed her lip for a few moments, considering options, “I guess it can't hurt to tell you… I just need a break that isn't on that wagon. Then I'll reset things and get it right.” She sighed and braced herself, “You're not real. Or not real right now, but later you'll be a real memory. Well, not you, this version will be gone when I reset the spell again, but some version of you will wind up being your real memory. Point is, this one isn't real, you won't remember it anyways, so just let me think, would you?”
Twilight did not let her think. Twilight stood, and glowered over her with a look that recalled the time Starlight got caught mind controlling Twilight's friends. The you-did-big-and-irresponsible-magic look. “Starlight, are you telling me that you're in my memories? That you're manipulating my memories?”
Starlight looked sheepish, “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds preeeetty bad, huh.” Dread was knotting in her stomach. She could reset this. She should reset this before it gets further out of hoof. All it would take was a simple flex, a small twist, but she couldn't muster a single spark of magic. The small self-loathing part of her, the part that would never let her forget she was villain, that part of her was rapt with attention. A part of Starlight was desperate for the pain she was about to feel.
“Bad? Bad!? Starlight, that's horrible! Haven't you learned anything at all? You can't just go around messing with pony’s minds!” Twilight's hoof dragged a furrow along the ground, wrinkling the blanket and making the still-packed teacups jump and clink. “How could you think this was a good idea?”
“It needed to be perfect for you…” Starlight's voice felt small and she couldn't summon any explanation more than that. Her heart hurt, and this was everything she deserved.
“Perfect! And you're deciding what's perfect for me? Did you actually think about what I wanted, or did you just choose?” Twilight carried on into a rant, or maybe a lecture was more generous. Starlight wasn't sure because the words seemed to fade around her, only the emotion, the pain and betrayal in Twilight's voice could touch her.
Suddenly, a sharp crack broke through Starlight's haze. Twilight's words hadn't become any clearer, and yet there was another cracking noise. Then the whole of the reality she'd built for herself split apart like a buckball through a glass window. The shards of that world fell down, down, infinitely down into void. It was dark, and Starlight was alone.
“Hello?” She called out. That was just what you had to do in a situation like this. As if in response to her voice, the void began to light up. Panels of her, of Starlight Glimmer, flickered into being in all sizes, quilting themselves across the black. She stared in awe at each of them, sudden torrents of emotion flooding into her brain as she gave each panel a critical eye. Each emotion, she knew without thinking, from a memory of her.
The biggest of the panels were the obvious ones. A vision of her monologuing, hair done up faultlessly, anger and despair welling up the longer she stared. Starlight Glimmer in Our Town, defiant. Starlight Glimmer in Cloudsdale, vengeful. Starlight Glimmer at the end of the world, defeated. Twilight's strongest memories of her, the knowledge that Starlight was a villain at heart constantly looming in the back of her mind. Starlight couldn't stand the thought, so she looked away.
Many of the other panels were not quite as large, but still certainly significant. These included much of what she'd expected, her failures on the road to friendship saturated with Twilight's unbearable disappointment in her. Some of these panels struck her as odd though. There were moments she didn't even remember, moments that seemed so small. Times she had made Twilight laugh, or pulled off a particularly tricky piece of magic. Some of them barely seemed to register to her as something that ought to be a memory. Those panels just displayed long moments of… Observation, Starlight decided, she wouldn't let herself call it admiration. Twilight's memories of just her. The shape of her face, the style of her mane, the build of her body.
And smaller still, filling the space between all these larger memories were the small moments in time where they simply existed together, too many to count, too many to feel every emotion emanating from them. Just as she was starting to catalogue these, one of them blinked out before her eyes.
“No,” She breathed out, frantically scanning the view around her. More blank spaces began to appear, each one fading sooner than the last. “No, no, no.” She began to sprint towards the screen, the distance of the void never seeming to close for her, each memory firmly out of reach as they disappeared one by one. She stopped galloping and sat, staring as even the large panels shut off. Her eyes couldn't leave the image of her at Our Town. She couldn't bear to let go, even if all she could hold onto was Twilight's anger, her hatred of her. She could feel the emotions slip, and when that final screen went dark, Starlight fell.
Spike jumped at the knock on the door, rushing for the lock even as he hears Twilight call through it, “Spike? Is everything alright in there? I heard some strange noises, just thought I'd check in.”
Spike hoped the lock clicking wasn't too audible as he flattened his back to the door and looked at Starlight. It had only been five minutes, but five minutes was definitely more than a couple. Besides, the mint green aura of her eyes had started to pulse and fade in a way that Spike, still no magical expert, assumed was a bad sign.
There was a sudden release of pressure in the room and Starlight's eyes faded to normal. She hovered for a few moments more before flopping to the floor, barely managing a sitting position back on her cushion. He couldn't see her face now that she was sitting again, but her posture didn't offer him any optimistic guesses.
Carefully, he clicked the lock back again, and nudged open the door just a crack, “All good in here, Twilight, nothing to worry about.” Not that he'd been subtle, Twilight saw right through his ploy. She cocked her head around the doorway and caught sight of Starlight Glimmer. Spike watched her carefully, so it was worrying when she didn't show a hint of recognition for the purple pony.
“Spike! You didn't tell me you had a new friend over. You should've let me know, I could have brought you snacks!” Twilight's magic caught the door and opened it wide as she stepped in past the little dragon.
“New friend…?” Spike could only mumble, watching Twilight make her way towards the dazed Starlight.
“Hello, I hope I'm not intruding, but any friend of Spike’s is a friend of mine! I'm Twilight Sparkle, and who might you be?” Twilight stopped a respectful distance away from the hunched over mare, glancing at Spike “Are you sure you're both alright? She looks a bit out of it, and this place feels like some pretty powerful magic.”
Starlight turned, a wretched look on her face, “Oh, Twilight, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't think at all- this whole plan, it was so… it was all such a mistake!”
Twilight took a nervous step backwards, “I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding here. What mistake? Have we met before?”
Starlight's mouth gaped, jaw working to find words that wouldn't come, cold realization stabbing claws through her heart. It couldn't be true, but it was. She'd seen it happen without even knowing. The consequences of her mistake. Twilight didn't know her, she'd forgotten her completely. Wiped clean. Starlight couldn't stand it. She couldn't face this. Half blind with tears, she bolted out the door to wherever her hooves would carry her.
Twilight gave Spike a wry and anxious smile, “I think you should go after your friend, Spike. It seems like I upset her.”
A few days passed, and Starlight managed to contort herself into something resembling optimism. Sure, they'd gone from marefriends to strangers in just a couple days. Sure, her heart felt stabbed through every time Twilight looked at her without a hint of recognition or warmth. Certainly she was polite, even friendly, and Spike had somehow navigated an explanation for why Starlight was living in the castle, so Starlight was hardly any worse for wear. It was maybe even a good thing that Twilight didn't remember her as an ex-villain, since reformed. A clean slate, a fresh start, none of the old baggage. Starlight wasn't sure how she'd explain to their friends why she didn't recognize her at all, but so far she'd avoided the issue by simply avoiding her friends completely. Yes, optimism was important at a time like this.
Starlight groaned and flopped over, letting her head bounce off her mattress. Optimism was important but it wasn't going to carry her forever. She had to fix this, or find out if there was even anything to fix, and only one pony in Ponyville knew enough magic to help. It was a cruel and ironic Tartarus she had built for herself.
Starlight clicked her hoof against the door to Twilight's study, remembering herself in the same moment less than a week ago. “Um, Twilight? Sorry, I mean Princess? Could I talk to you?”
It only took a moment for the door to clock itself open and swing inward, Twilight beckoning Starlight inside from her desk. Starlight obeyed, though she hovered near the door and startled when it closed behind her. “Twilight is just fine,” Twilight smiled, “The title always makes me feel so stuffy and unapproachable.”
“Right, sorry, Twilight, for the interruption, I'm sure you're very busy. I just have a magic related question, and Spike was adamant that you're the pony to ask.” Starlight kept her gaze low, trying to look at the alicorn as little as possible as she found her way to one of the seats across from Twilight.
“It's really no trouble at all, any friend of Spike's is a friend of mine. Just as long as you don't mind the mess, it turns out setting up a whole school is a bit of work.” Starlight glanced at the desk, no longer a stolid fortress of book, journal, scroll and note, but a modest spread of some reference texts and reminders. The remnants of her empire had found new homes on shelves or in drawers where they might wait to be found again. All in all, that still seemed like an improvement. “You aren't looking for a job, are you? We've got an opening for a guidance counselor, and I've got a good feeling about you.”
“What?” Was all Starlight could manage, her concentration broken by the odd statement, that treacherous feeling of hope stinging her heart. She'd promised herself she wouldn't dare.
“Maybe not then, just thought I'd offer. So! What did you want to discuss with me? Spike was right you know, I know my way around a tome, and don't even get me started on grimoires.” She smiled her gorgeous, careless grin, and Starlight's eyes found their way back to the floor.
“Well, let's say you made a memory spell. Not to change a whole lot of memories, but just one small one in particular. Let's say you screwed it up big-time, and instead of changing one memory, you maaaaybe accidentally delete… All of them.” Starlight glanced back towards the princess out of the corner of her eye. She watched the princess chew on the problem in her mind, fitting pieces together and considering the underlying magical theory. Twilight wasn't stupid, and Starlight could only hope she wouldn't put together the whole picture.
“That's some pretty heavy duty magic, Starlight, do you usually study theory like that? I'm impressed,” It took all the fiber of Starlight's being to not beam with pride at the praise, “Well you should know that memory magic is a lot more complex than most ponies think. It seems like it's just as easy as rewriting a storybook, but memories are tied just as much to our emotions as they are to actual recollection. Even if the images are gone, the feelings are still there.”
“So you're saying I'm in over my head? Or, would be, if I did something like that, which I didn't admit to.”
Twilight giggled gently, hoof to her mouth, dragging a rake across Starlight's heart. “I'm saying whatever mistake you think you've made is probably more fixable than you believe. If the spell was centered on one memory, maybe you just need to jog that memory and the rest will fall back into place.”
“But what if it's all gone for good!”
With a tone reserved for little fillies and friendship lessons, Twilight said, “Good memories don't go without a fight. You just need to have faith in that.”
Starlight felt the sting of irony. These memories certainly had left with a fight. The bad ones and the good ones. Still, she forced herself to meet Twilight's gaze and match her smile. With Twilight's words on her mind, she saw an opportunity. The memories were gone, but maybe the emotions remained. Maybe this was a real chance to be what Twilight had wanted. Maybe this time she could be just Starlight Glimmer. “I… Had some other questions about magical theory, but I wouldn't want to get in the way of your work.”
Twilight shoved a pair of books to the side and rested her hooves in front of her on the desk, shaking her head, “I'd much rather talk about magic than read one more EEA bylaw. Let's chat.”
So the pair whiled away the hours, soon transitioning from study to library, then library to lounge, until their conversations were interrupted by a long, low growl. Both ponies doubled over with laughter, realizing together just how distracted they'd been, and how hungry they were.
“Hayburger?”
“Hayburger.”
Starlight Glimmer took point as they approached the restaurant. Spending time with Twilight, Starlight was starting to embrace the silver lining. No longer the ex-villain, no longer forever ‘reformed’ in Twilight's eyes. She could just be herself, no need to measure up, no longer trapped in her debt.
This is why when Rainbow Dash flashed out of the Hayburger front door and slammed to a stop right in front of them, Starlight wanted to panic. “Hey Twilight! Hey Starlight! How's my favorite princess and my favorite reformed dictator?”
“Does everypony in town but me know-” Twilight began to form the question but Starlight jumped in with a nervous laugh.
“We're great! Just great, Rainbow Dash, but we're reaaaaally hungry, so if you don't mind…?” She jerked her head away from the two of them, hoping the message was clear enough, knowing Rainbow Dash was never one for subtlety. Still, she got the message, offered a quick goodbye, and dashed off at barely sub-rainboom level speeds. Starlight was sure she wouldn't be able to escape the interrogation that would come later, but her brain didn't have any room left for concerns like that.
They made their way inside and found a table, and just as Starlight stood to go order their food, Twilight caught her with a dubious look, “Reformed dictator…?”
Starlight laughed and felt faker by the minute, “Oh just a little inside joke, you know how Rainbow Dash is! Always the jokester!” She was quick to scurry away to the counter after that, knowing it was only a delay. If Starlight counted herself lucky for one thing, it's the fact that Twilight's usual order probably hadn't changed. Her reprieve lasted whole minutes until their order was called and she trudged back to the table with their food. All she could do was breathe a sigh of relief that Twilight seemed content to dig into her food rather than press the subject.
Still, Starlight felt fake. Try as she might, she couldn't convince herself that this was real. Twilight had known her. Twilight had seen every dirty, nasty piece of herself, and Twilight had seen the good buried beneath all the muck. And now here was a Twilight who only saw what Starlight let her, a Twilight who could never find out about those pieces of Starlight or else she'd never look at her the same.
Starlight was distracted from that line of thought by Twilight biting into her burger. There was something… Strange. Her eyes shut and her eyelids fluttered and she seemed to stiffen for a moment. Then it faded, the alicorn relaxing into another bite, eyes still closed. Starlight took a tentative nibble from her own food. It was good, but not that good. Maybe the princess had just been very hungry. Who knows what alicorn metabolism must be like.
They enjoyed their food together in a silence Starlight wished she could find comfortable, but only found grated on her instead. Twilight didn't seem interested in conversation, content to eat her fill, and Starlight couldn't muster the will to break the silence, so they sat, and Starlight stewed.
She knew what she had to do. Twilight had practically told her outright, and not even just once. She knew what perfect was to Twilight Sparkle, and now she just had to pull it off.
“I'm sorry to rush off, Twilight, but I remembered there's something I need to take care of. Could you meet me later? Trixie will know where. I have an idea that will really help you get to know me.” Starlight stood from her seat, gathering her garbage even as Twilight was enjoying her last few bites. The alicorn only smiled, nodded, and watched Starlight leave with a curious gleam in her eyes.
High up on a hill overlooking Ponyville, a tiny lavender speck of a unicorn once again found herself gazing at the vista below. Alone, this time, or perhaps just the first to arrive. The preparations were set, but she couldn't help giving it all a once over just to be sure. Picnic blanket, check. Picnic basket, check. Tea and teacups, check and check, and sugar… not check? Not check!? Starlight began to lift dishes and displace cups and drag the blanket to the side and there was no sign of the sugar. How could she forget the sugar!
“Okay Starlight, it's alright, it's just sugar. Twilight drinks her tea black, so it's only for you anyways, you only need sugar for your perfect cup of tea, and Twilight won't be able to tell if your tea isn't perfect, she totally won't realize that everything isn't completely perfect and then never remember you because you screwed up!” She dropped to the ground, hooves pressed tight to her spinning head, but she hardly even had time to spiral further when she heard the telltale rattle of a wooden wagon climbing the hill. She could scarcely hear the voices that followed close behind, but the conversation didn't quite sound hostile. The pair would exchange words, then one or the other would laugh, the whole way up the hill. Starlight knew it could've been much worse.
The wagon rolled to a stop and out climbed Trixie and a blindfolded Twilight. They stepped forward, and Starlight undid the blindfold, politely floating it back towards Trixie. As always, she looked way more smug than she had any right to, but she didn't complain as she climbed back into her wagon and set off down the hill.
Starlight motioned for Twilight to join her, patting an open spot on the blanket. The alicorn smiled and trod forward, settling down into a comfortable position. There was still something strange about her, something Starlight couldn't quite put her hoof on, but that didn't matter. She was here with a goal, she had to see it through.
“I have a confession to make. That memory spell? I cast it on you,” Starlight grimaced and flinched, but when she opened one eye to Twilight, she found the unicorn nodding encouragingly. Of course she'd figured it out. Twilight wasn't dumb and Starlight wasn't subtle. She swallowed her nerves and continued, “I wanted to give you a perfect memory. One that felt worthy of a princess. One that would make me worthy of you. I guess even your memories are smarter than me though. I didn't think about what you wanted, what you would choose. I decided how I thought you should feel, and I wouldn't accept any other answer.”
“Starlight…” Twilight murmured gently, but the unicorn shook her head, blinking back tears.
“Please,” Her voice was hoarse, “Just let me finish. I didn't care that you chose me, because I decided I didn't deserve to be chosen. Because Rainbow Dash was right, I'm a reformed dictator. An ex-villain. Even if you don't remember, even if you never remember, I was a menace to you and your friends. I thought I could never bear the guilt, even when you saw the good in me.”
She had to stop to breathe, to draw in one long sniffling rush of air. Twilight stayed silent, opening the picnic basket and sorting out the servings of tea that she shouldn't have even known were there. Starlight would swear the alicorn searched just a little longer, looking for something she apparently didn't find. Starlight's breathing evened out, and she pressed onwards.
“I had the horrible thought today that maybe it was for the best that you forgot me. That this was a clean break, a fresh start to show you the real me, the good me without any of the baggage. I almost didn't bring you up here. I thought if you never remembered, that'd be for the best.” She trailed off, trying to organize frantic thoughts for her impromptu speech.
“But…?” Twilight prompted quietly, so gently that Starlight's heart ached.
“But I couldn't stand the way you looked at me, like I was just anypony at all, just another loyal subject, a friend of a friend. It was like you stopped seeing me, the me that only you ever saw, and I thought maybe that part of me, whatever it is you see in it, would wither and fade and die, and I can't live with that. Even if I'm not special to you after all this, or even if you hate me now, I don't want that good pony to fade away. So please, Twilight, please remember.” Tears were openly streaking dark lines down her muzzle, but her body was so stiff she couldn't even raise a hoof to wipe them clean.
It was all she could do to not break down completely when Twilight started to giggle, then laugh, then practically guffaw, and soon tears were escaping her eyes too, “Oh Starlight, I could never hate you. You might just be the most special pony alive!” A pair of napkins floated from the basket, parting ways to dry the eyes of both ponies, as well as offering itself up for Starlight to blow her nose.
“Twilight?” Her voice was timid with hope, “Do you… are you back? Do you remember?
Twilight nodded, “Yes Starlight, I remember.”
“How? When? H-how much?”
“Three-hundred and eighty four loops of remembering, Starlight, plus the stuff before and after. Would you believe it all came back to me while eating that burger?” The alicorn grinned, wide open and happy, “Did you know you're the only one who actually remembers my order? You didn't even have to ask, and Spike can't even pull that off.”
“A burger? But I thought- the memory, the anchor point- I redid all this, and you've remembered me for half a day already?” Starlight couldn't even be frustrated. It was simply too ridiculous.
“I told you, Starlight, it's not about some sort of archived history of events, it's about the feelings. You see me, Starlight, you see right past the princess, right to the pony in the middle of it all. Even when I forgot everything about you, something inside me was certain that you are good, and it's not some special sight that tells me that, it's who you are, right down to your very core.” Twilight inched closer, then closer still, face to face with her.
“Starlight, you're my very special somepony, and this? This is perfect. You're just going to have to live with that.” Twilight gave a devious little smirk as both her wings flared out, then wrapped forward around the pair, hiding them in walls of soft pink down.
Princess Twilight Sparkle stared into her eyes, and as Starlight stared back, she couldn't stop the smile from sprouting on her own face, “Well princess, I have just one small disagreement with your decision.”
It was a simple matter of inches for Starlight Glimmer to lean forward and kiss her princess on the lips.
“Now it's perfect.”
Author's Note
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I plan to write more Twiglim stuff, this ship has got my brain in a vise grip. Unsure if future stuff will be uploaded as independent fics or as further chapters to this one, will likely depend how I feel about it. Either way, please look forward to more.
