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.