Impossible Dreams

Chapters

Good News
A Treatise On The Philosophical Implications of Literalist Cutie Mark Theory or: Uh Oh
Good Advice

Good News

Dear Starlight Glimmer,

I hope this letter finds you well, and I know you may be expecting to hear more from me like usual, so please don’t panic that this letter is quite brief. I have good news! Although it has been a couple years since my move to Canterlot, I never forgot about our little research project. Suffice to say, I would be honored if you would make the time to join me in Canterlot Castle one week from now, just after sunrise. I promise it’ll be worth your while.

Your Dear Friend,
Twilight Sparkle

PS. I’m really looking forward to catching up face to face. When was the last time you and I got together for anything other than work?

PPS. Spike says hi!

Starlight clutched the letter to her chest, the world outside the window of the train flashing by in dark and hazy blur. She had to stop looking at the letter or else she would cry on it again, so she traded it for that view, pulsing black silhouettes against navy blue haze, the faintest trim of orange staining the furthest distances. It was an auspicious time. Twilight.

She found it hard to let herself believe what she imagined the letter could mean. It hadn’t been a research project to her, it had been a ritual. It had been quiet and meditative and intimate and warm and all the things she so desperately missed now. They had kept it up until the day Twilight moved to Canterlot, and then it was gone. She had never expected it to actually work, her foalhood dream of having wings forever unrealized, and that had been fine. Adults left behind silly dreams like that.

It’s not as if she didn’t see Twilight anymore, either. There was always business with the school, or diplomats, or parents of students from the other nations. And of course there were meetings with the Council of Friendship, which were always wonderful, but not exactly very personal. She was always self-conscious about taking up too much of her time at those. Nothing like how things used to be.

Her mind wandered back to the old days, she hadn’t even known to appreciate it at the time and suddenly it was all different, and now she actually was crying, and she could only be relieved that there was practically nopony on the extra early morning train to Canterlot. It’s not like things were bad now, they were great, she had great friends in Ponyville and a fulfilling if busy job. A week of ruminating and obsessing over the letter had just wound her up tight as a spring. Better to get it all out before she saw Twilight, at least.

The shriek of brakes lurched her from her thoughts. She sniffled and ran her hooves down her cheeks, then hastily stuffed the letter back into her saddlebags. There wasn’t much else in them. A book, in case she felt like reading, which she definitely hadn’t. A tin of cookies from Sugarcube Corner. A wing brush she probably wouldn’t mention she brought.

She rose from her seat, wobbling on sleepy hooves, and trotted off the train. The walk to the palace wasn't so long, and it was before sunrise still, and she certainly wasn't stewing on the acidic emotions blooming in her stomach. She decided to get her steps in.

It had become instinct to poke and prod at her emotions. With changeling students, you couldn't just let those feelings lie unexamined. She was surprised to find frustration at the center of it all. Life had been stable, routine. Work as Headmare was stressful, and consumed much of her time, but it was equally rewarding in return. Her friends in Ponyville were wonderful, the castle was hardly empty with Sunburst and Trixie around– even if she insisted on sleeping in her wagon on the front lawn still– and she had almost been ready to start considering… What?

Considering what, she interrogated herself, what was it that she had been holding out for on those dark and quiet evenings spent preening her princess to perfection? What had she daydreamed about with her former mentor, her ruler, her savior? Daydreamed, because Tartarus take her if even Luna saw.

It wouldn't be proper. Some things belonged only to flights of fancy.

Besides, the school was too important and Canterlot too far.

So thank you very much, Twilight Sparkle, for throwing her world into turmoil once more. For making her stomach churn into knots and her brain chase itself in endless loops of deprecation and denial. For burying a seed of hope at the center of it all. She really didn't want it.

Her eyes didn't lift from the cobbles underhoof. The path to the palace was ingrained in muscle memory– most creatures without magic didn't love to be teleported around by a school Headmare, even a politically important one.

She didn't acknowledge the guards, crossing through the palace gates. All of them were familiar with her, and she knew most of their names and faces, but she wasn't quite on the friendship ball that morning.

The shadows shifted, Twilight’s sun made its slow climb over the horizon, and Starlight tried not to pay that any mind either.

The palace hallways had a warm orange tint that flooded in through the large stained glass windows. It swirled with the gently fading blue of the castle’s nighttime lighting, all magical. The scene demanded a pause, just to take it in, a slow procession down the hall from one window to another. Starlight wasn't sure she had ever seen the palace at quite this hour.

Twilight probably saw it like this every morning.

The thought was traitorous, it nearly choked her. It took everything to restrain herself from galloping the rest of the way down the hall. Her heart nearly burst when she pushed into the next room– an antechamber, not even the throne room itself– and there Twilight was.

She’s tall. It was the first thing that hit her, numb, dumb.

Of course she was tall, she's an alicorn! This wasn't even a surprise, Starlight saw her at every meeting and delegation and ambassadorial dinner. It wasn't news that Twilight had grown fast since her ascension in Canterlot. Wondering about the how and the why was an occasional topic of conversation amongst the Council of Friendship.

She hadn't ever really looked though, had she? It was so easy to let those gradual changes slip through the cracks, let them pass unacknowledged until the day you suddenly can't help but see the difference. Starlight was serious about her work, as much as she would love to be distracted from her meetings by admiring from across the table, she was too professional for that.

Now though, the dam had burst, and she had to clench her jaw or else let it slip open, drinking in the sight of Princess Twilight Sparkle. She wasn't quite Celestia-sized, more comparable to Luna or Cadance. Her mane, though, had lengthened. Faintly, just at the edges, it took on that ethereal flow possessed by the former diarchs. Her stance was poised and powerful, carrying herself suitably for her station.

It took every ounce of self control to not look at Twilight's wings, folded neatly at her side. Certainly they would be properly preened, perfectly primped for the princess, and that would cut Starlight like a dagger. Or else, they'd be a mess, Twilight too caught up in her work to care for them properly– still– and would that feel worse?

She didn't look. Mercy from that keen cutting edge found by drowning in the differences that caught her eye. Who was this mare? Where was her former mentor, her old friend, the pony that had saved her?

Here, of course, surely, right in front of her. Twilight through and through, she had to be, right there, Starlight held the fraying thought like a prayer. The black bile in her stomach knew the truth though. Ponies could change. She knew it better than anyone.

All that was left between them was history now. History, and work.

All this flashed through her mind in an instant. Most of it never struggled out of the depths of subconscious and into the light, she felt it all as a knot in her stomach, a tightening of her chest, a catch in her breath.

Then, Twilight smiled. Not a Princess's smile, not a diplomat’s smile, but her own. A broad and goofy grin, too open, too genuine for Starlight to protect herself from the way it twisted her guts and watered that little seed of hope.

“Starlight!” She said, her joy pouring out of two simple syllables. The princess pranced towards Starlight, and relief ran like a current through her, along her spine and down each of her limbs. Immediately, her worries seemed so ridiculous, and she hoped her warming cheeks weren't sporting a blush to match.

Unfortunate hopes and flights of fancy aside, she was still Twilight Sparkle, she was still Starlight's friend. She was not changed beyond recognition by the rigors of running a kingdom. Not yet, thought that small, sick part of Starlight, but how long until she is?

To escape her thoughts, Starlight smiled and stepped forward, “Hey Twi!” She went to offer a small hug, which quickly turned into a very big one when Twilight yanked her up in her forelegs and wrapped her broad wings around them both. The alicorn spun them both around once, Starlight's legs dangling, before she suddenly seemed to remember herself.

Starlight's back hooves hit the ground first as Twilight set her gently back to the floor. She wobbled a moment, and the other two followed quickly after. Twilight giggled, and from the corner of her eye, Starlight could see Twilight's cheeks were as red as her own felt.

“Sorry! I got a bit carried away,” Twilight leaned her head down and brushed their burning cheeks together, an apologetic little nuzzle, completely unbecoming of a princess and a school headmare, but a perfectly welcome relief between friends, “It's easy to forget how much I've grown. Celestia had some theories, something about morphic resonance and perception of power in the collective unconscious, but I'm not convinced that's anything but– oh, I'm rambling!”

Starlight was just grinning. That, more than anything, was the Twilight she knew. Two breaths in and she was already lecturing. “That's okay, I'm really interested actually, but maybe we can walk and talk?” She gave a pointed look around the empty, echoing antechamber.

Twilight followed Starlight's gaze, “Right. I think I can manage that.” She turned and playfully flicked her tail at Starlight's nose, sending a frisson shiver up her spine, “Come on, I don't think you've ever seen much of the royal chambers.”

Starlight had to tear her eyes away from Twilight's flanks, but it wasn't much effort to catch up alongside her. The princess moved at a languid pace, accommodating for the much smaller ponies she was typically accompanied by. Twilight was right though, besides a couple visits back when she was still nominally Twilight's student, Starlight had never really seen the spaces where Twilight now lived her life– however much of that she could sneak in between meetings and holding court. Starlight's recent visits to the castle had mostly kept her in the throne room, or in vast dining halls and tense diplomatic chambers.

“Did you get around to redecorating them?” Starlight asked, “I remember you mentioned that, er, somewhat recently.”

She couldn't help but think the smile she got from Twilight there was a guilty one. “That was maybe a year and a half ago, you know.” It was Starlight's turn to look guilty, but Twilight laughed and bumped her shoulder gently, “We only got around to it about six moons ago. We could have delegated, but Spike and I really wanted to make it our own.”

“Hey, that's great! I'm glad you found the time. Can't imagine you're any less busy running a kingdom than I am running a school.”

Twilight looked curious, “What about your castle? Still living out of that dinky guest room you picked the day you moved to Ponyville?”

She had to force a smile past the sting. Her castle now. “Please, it's hardly my castle, and only really a castle in looks. These days, it's more like a hotel for adjunct professors and guest lecturers.” She artfully dodged Twilight's second question. They both knew the answer anyway.

“Might be the fanciest hotel in Equestria.”

Starlight rolled her eyes dramatically, “Room service is awful though.”

They both broke into fits of giggles. Far ahead, a pair of guards stood at attention next to an arch that led to the furthermost wing of the castle, the royal chambers. Logically, she knew they contained a full complement of living spaces for not just one princess, but at least two. Rationally, she knew they must contain a dining area, a kitchen, perhaps a lounge and a library. A bedroom. Emotionally, she was feeling a little odd about that one. Twilight had cleaned most of her belongings out of her room in the Ponyville castle. Starlight hadn't moved even a single thing that was left behind.

And suddenly she was back in her feelings of regret and missed opportunities. She knew exactly what she wanted, what she couldn't have, what she wouldn't allow her brain to put into words and face the reality that this rekindling of their friendship could never end with anything other than all the grit and muck at the bottom of her heart being kicked up and clouding everything all over again.

Their conversation drowned in it and Starlight barely noticed the silence that followed them all the way to the door. It was plain, painted white to match the walls, and it whisked open in a swirl of magic.

“My personal library. It's no Royal Archive, but I think you'll be impressed by the collection anyways. Being a princess has some perks, at least.” Twilight motioned her in first.

Entering the library was like hitting a brick wall. She had been so caught up in ridiculous, immature pining that it had completely slipped her mind why Twilight had invited her here in the first place. Faced with mountains of scrolls bearing complex spellwork, tomes with bookmarks spilling out, it was harder to tell herself it hadn't really been that important to her, that it was just a foal’s idle fantasy. She couldn't deny that even still, every time she flew her kites, she imagined herself alongside them.

Her daydreams were really out to get her today.

Hooves clopped a few steps behind her, the door clicked shut, a couple seats were cleared of clutter by magic, and Twilight said, “Sorry for the mess, I'm usually the only one in here. Spike technically has his own, which, I didn't even know so many comic books existed.”

“You didn't have to do all this for me,” She said it quietly, any louder and she worried her voice might crack.

Twilight walked past her and took a seat, smiling, “I wanted to, for my friend. Not that I'm perfectly selfless either, it’s the most interesting spellwork I've ever researched.”

“And,” she hesitated, resenting the way she dared to hope, “You think you've done it? You've found a breakthrough?” Even leaving her fantasies aside, such a feat would represent an unheard of advancement in magical study. When they first began their efforts, the only information they could find flatly stated the impossibility of their goal.

“I think so, but I haven't tested it,” Her warm smile changed to something a bit more hesitant, “I can't exactly try it on myself, and anypony here would do it just because I asked, which doesn't seem fair.”

I'm not any different, Starlight thought, I'd do it just because you asked.

“I figured if anypony was up for a little bit of science– and a little bit of a risk– it would be you.” Her expression had advanced to pure nerves now.

“How much risk?”

“Well, a completely untested spell that can only be tested on a unicorn, to turn a unicorn into a pegasus, and of course the spell to turn that pegasus back into a unicorn. You know magic, you can do the math.” There was a quiver on her lips now.

A little bit of risk was well beyond a mild way to put it. This was mad scientist stuff, the sort of spellwork that Celestia’s school had ethics and safety courses for. It was an easy fact to ignore when it hadn't seemed like it would ever be possible to try.

“This is crazy, Twi, like something I would've tried back in the–” She almost said good old days, she didn't– “When I was still your student. I can't even count the ways this could go wrong.”

“Oh don't worry,” A long list, gently pushed by magic, unrolled itself to the floor, bouncing a good distance across the room, “I already did.” Starlight could spot entries like ‘irreversible change?’ and ‘fundamental alteration of cutie mark application’ in bold. Luckily, other entries, such as ‘death’ and ‘horrific disfigurement’ were very firmly struck through.

“There's no other pony I'd feel comfortable even asking, but I don't want to pressure you. I've spent moons making sure it's as safe as I can get it. That doesn't mean it's safe though.”

Starlight felt trapped, choked. Of course Twilight didn't want to pressure her, but how could it be anything but? The lengths she would have had to go to to get this far went beyond casual study, crammed between all of her other royal duties. Had the mare even found time to sleep?

“Why?” The word left her lips almost unconsciously, but she knew she had to follow through, “Why all this? I didn't ask you to go this far for me.” She didn't feel as angry as that sounded. Or maybe she was angrier than she thought she felt. Her head was too busy spinning.

“I told you, you're my–”

“Friend, sure, but friends write each other letters and invite each other to tea or lunch from time to time. They don't usually spend years trying to break the laws of magic for each other! This is crazy, and not regular Twilight crazy, this is brand new princess crazy!”

Only silence followed, for too long. Twilight's mouth was a frown now. She blinked, and suddenly her eyes were glossy and wet. “I missed you, I guess,” Twilight finally said. She paused to swallow, her throat bobbing, “I miss all my friends but I– That first week in Canterlot, they made me choose my staff, I kept almost everypony Celestia had, but they wanted me to pick my own attendant. That's a personal sort of role, you can imagine.”

Twilight sighed and stretched one wing out wide. Starlight didn't have a chance to not look, to not connect the dots between the scattering of misaligned feathers. “I thought you'd notice, but maybe more has changed than I thought. She's a lovely little mare, I adore her and I'd be a mess without her, but something about the way she does it just doesn't sit right. I asked her not to bother this morning,” Another excruciating pause for Twilight to swallow, “Just in case.”

Emotion crawled up her throat, tasting like jealousy and regret, and found its way free as a quiet croaking, “Oh.” Her bag flap flipped open. She lifted the brush out and wordlessly set it on the table between them. It would have been a lovely bit of sentiment if it was the same brush as all those years ago, but that one had been misplaced. Lost. This one was brand new.

Maybe that was a different sort of sentiment. The hope in her was desperate to sprout.

They both stared at it, as if it might explode. Twilight cleared her throat, “Maybe I could walk you through the details of the spell. Even if we don't cast it, you'll find it interesting.”

Starlight's eyes stayed trained on the brush. She wouldn't be able to keep it together if she saw Twilight's face right now. “You're sure? I mean, you're so busy, and–”

“And I cleared my whole schedule for today. Do you know how hard it is to get a day off?” Starlight risked a glance, there was a small ring of dark wet fur beneath her eyes, but the princess was smirking, “I wouldn't want it to go to waste.”

“Right,” Starlight closed her eyes and breathed a shaky sigh, “It'll be just like old times. Let's talk about mad science.”

They transitioned from library to lounge, Twilight hauling with her only a couple piles of materials from the broader disaster area that covered the room. The lounge was well-appointed in purples and pinks, large cushions adorned with the six-pointed star, cutie mark turned heraldry for her reign.

Windows like towers from floor to ceiling let the morning light pour in, the view overlooking not the city of Canterlot, but the vast expanse of plains and forests that formed Central Equestria, pocked with villages and towns where an untold number of creatures– not just ponies anymore– lived simple, easy lives in joy and friendship.

Starlight stared in wonder at the world that stretched on to infinity and wished her life could be simpler and easier. Wished she could step out across the threshold, into the sky, and forget how much her heart hurt.

Instead, she turned to face Twilight, who had kept one eye on her while sorting through her stacks. The alicorn had dragged a cushion away from the fireplace and into the wash of sunlight from the windows. Her wings were spread loose and limp across the floor.

The moment Starlight stepped away from the window, one wing lifted invitingly, revealing another cushion. She took her place on it, and the wing settled itself back across her forelegs. Her breath caught. Twilight looked her way with a raised brow.

Starlight had no excuse, so she didn't try to make one. Twilight didn't press. She couldn't decide if the feathers felt softer, or if it had just been that long. Maybe both, she couldn't fathom what sort of product you would buy for a princess, but it had to be fancy.

Her horn lit, sliding the brush off a nearby table and floating it through the air. After a moment, she recalled the other contents of her saddlebags, and soon the tin of cookies joined the brush in the air. The brush went to her hoof, the cookies settling in front of Twilight.

“I didn't tell her what to make, just that it was for you. It'll be a surprise to both of us.” She clamped the brush between two hooves as she clamped down on her nerves. How many times had they done this in the past? She had been happy to let it be what it was, whatever it was, and let unreachable dreams play out in the theater of her mind.

Now one dream was right there by her hooves, where it had always seemed impossible. The only thing left standing in the way was the leap of faith, the possibility of utter ruin in the attempt, the chance to leap and plummet, or catch the current and fly. She couldn't tell where the wind was blowing.

Twilight had wanted this. Starlight held the thought close, tenderly watering the seed inside her. More than just wanted, she had anticipated it, prepared for it, she was disappointed when Starlight hadn't taken notice. It could mean nothing. It could mean everything.

Twilight let out a squeal of delight, floating cookies from the tin. Sugar cookies, each lovingly rendered to resemble Twilight and her friends. Not just the Council of Friendship, but so many more, they just kept coming as Twilight bore them aloft in her aura. She spotted Zecora, the Cakes, Big Mac and Sugar Belle, more and more, each detailed with precision, colors a perfect match.

“I almost feel guilty wanting to eat these, they're wonderful,” Her eyes darted to the side, fixing Starlight in her gaze. The unicorn’s cookie counterpart floated to the fore, and she could barely think straight when Twilight opened her mouth and bit the horn clean off with a cheeky wag of her brow, “Almost. They're delicious, too.”

Starlight had to tear herself away, cheeks burning. Her eyes found Twilight's wing in front of her, and was surprised to see it halfway preened already. Her hoof had been brushing idly along while she mulled over her thoughts.

“You're teasing,” She said, indignant.

“I am. Is it helping?”

“Helping what?” Her eyes stayed fixed on the wing, brush gently working through each misaligned feather in turn.

“Maybe I'm overthinking it. You just seem tense, you can barely look at me, you keep going all quiet and serious,” Twilight paused, Starlight felt the way she shook her head, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pressured you into this, you're not comfortable, I shouldn't have assumed.”

Her wing began to slide away, slithering back to her side. Starlight had to pounce on it, pinning it to the floor hard enough to make Twilight wince as Starlight yelped out, “No!” She scrambled back instantly after.

Twilight was staring, frowning, “Then talk to me, Starlight, I don't know what I'm doing wrong. This was supposed to be relaxing and we're both anything but!”

A bitter tonic of shame and guilt spilled into her gut. She couldn't cope with the truth, so she mustered her most honest lie, “I'm nervous. Terrified. About this spell. It's crazy, and I feel crazy for thinking I might just say yes!”

“I'm sorry if I got your hopes up,” Twilight reached a hoof towards her, Starlight couldn't stop herself from shrinking away from it. Twilight let her hoof drop. “Let me show you the spell at least. I don't want you to rush into this.”

“Okay, walk me through it,” She nodded, trying to force her muscles into relaxation. She started brushing again, and that helped.

“Right. Obviously you know that what we generally call magic is really just unicorn magic, earth ponies and pegasi both channel their own unique forms of magic, as do many other creatures besides. The trouble really hasn't ever been giving you wings, that's a hefty transmutation spell, but straightforward. The problem is just having wings doesn't mean you can fly.”

Starlight nodded again, “Birds have hollow bones, but pegasus bones are stronger than average, if anything.”

“Exactly. Unicorn magic goes through the horn, but for pegasi, it's mostly their wings. Giving you wings isn't enough, we also need to change the way magic flows through your body.”

“Which is impossible.”

Twilight nodded gravely, “A lot of very knowledgeable unicorns agreed. Celestia wasn't so sure. I spent about a year mapping out the flow of magic in everypony that would let me, my guards, my attendant, even the Wonderbolts during their performances.” She spread three papers from the top of the stack across her wing.

Vitruvian ponies, one of each tribe, popular renderings from antiquity, now scribbled over with lines that traced through each limb and throughout the whole body. Clusters formed at the pegasus’s wings, the unicorn’s horn, the earth pony’s hooves.

“The first ever map of pony magic.” Twilight's chest puffed with pride.

She looked between the unicorn and the pegasus. The lines weren't even close. Another paper slid into view, immediately recognizable as a spell. Most of its component elements were unrecognizable, though Twilight's knowledge of theory had always dwarfed hers, Starlight had to guess that this was bespoke. You wouldn't find it in any book.

“This is how you'll rewire me?”

“Only once you're certain. Once you know the risks.”

“Your list.”

Twilight nodded, “My list. My biggest concern is, well, the unknowns. Your cutie mark, your talent, is magic. Unicorn magic. What happens if you don't have your magic? If we fundamentally change you as a pony? Could we invalidate your cutie mark?”

Like the ponies at Our Town. No cutie mark, no passion for life, no joy. She winced, and this time Twilight reached the whole way and patted her hoof.

“Cutie marks are resilient, I've seen all sorts of strange things. It could simply adapt. I have no clue.”

Starlight didn't move her hoof, “And your other worry?”

“I mess up, in one direction or the other, and you lose your magic permanently.”

She shuddered at the thought. No more magic. It was what she lived for. Could she risk losing that forever? This was crazy, absurd, never in a thousand years would it be a good idea, so much could go wrong for so little to go right, she could say no, she could spend a normal day with Twilight Sparkle and go home and resume her normal life at the school and finally put herself out there and fill the hole that was left, the hole in her that kept widening with every second she let Twilight stare at her with endless pity and–

“Let's do it.”

Twilight blinked, “Are you sure?”

“Magic is everything to me, Twilight. You've come to me with one of the biggest magical findings of our time, maybe ever, and you say I'm the only pony who can help you test it. There are unicorns in this city that would kill to be in this room right now, seriously end actual lives!” Starlight laughed, it probably sounded manic, she probably was, “This is mad science and I can't help myself. I have to see what happens!”

“Have you been listening to me? If it goes wrong–”

“I'll still be me. You don't need to cast spells to have a passion for magic, look at Sunburst.” She stood to pace, kicking the brush off. It rasped across the tile as it slid. “If I walk away from this, I will never ever stop wondering. You wouldn't either, or we wouldn't even be entertaining this!”

Twilight chewed on her lip, brow furrowed deep with serious consideration. “Fine,” She said, “But we're not doing it alone. I want another pony in the room, in case…” She didn't say whatever the in case was, but Starlight knew. In case somepony had to run for help, it wouldn't be either of them.

A Treatise On The Philosophical Implications of Literalist Cutie Mark Theory or: Uh Oh

Spring Showers, the Royal Attendant, turned out to be a diminutive little unicorn, flighty and almost insubstantial. She talked lightly and quickly while her deep green mane bobbed with her expressive movements, contrasted against a dark grey coat. Her cutie mark was a storm cloud girded by a rainbow. To the mare, it represented creating beauty from chaos, and Starlight had to cede the point, she certainly knew how to make Twilight look stunning at every formal appearance.

Still, insubstantial, she didn't mean it as a rude thought, the mare just blended in. Maybe court ponies even took pride in a skill like that. Either way, as she watched Twilight draw out complex runes on the bare floor, she had to keep reminding herself that the other unicorn was present at all. She was only here to run for help if the worst happened.

Starlight wondered if Spring Showers knew how lucky she was to even be in this room. Did she understand the level of magic she was about to witness when she spent her days levitating brushes and soaps? Likely she knew enough to be impressed, at least.

Twilight cast the chalk aside and nodded. Starlight stepped carefully into the center of the circle and nodded back. There wasn't anything left to say, except maybe…

“See you on the other side?”

Twilight scoffed and shook her head. Her horn lit, the chalk lines shifted from stark white to brilliant pink.

Close to Starlight's hooves, the markings seemed to peel off the floor. Where they stuck to her, she felt a tingle, an innocuous buzz working its way up inch by inch. First just her hooves, then brushing at her fetlocks, up to her cannons and knees. She tried to lift a leg, not worried, just curious. It stretched the strings of magic, tugging it back to the floor, and she noticed the split second of strain on Twilight's face. Best not to screw around, then.

Spring Showers was rapt with attention, enough that Starlight wondered if she had underestimated the mare. Perhaps she had an interest, if not a talent for magic. Something to pursue, but not now.

Starlight puffed her chest out with a bit of pride– it's not like she was involved in the process, but if she was just going to stand there, she could strike an impressive silhouette.

It was about that moment that the ribbons of magic passed her legs and began to touch her torso. The thought of looking impressive was quickly lost, along with many other thoughts, because she began to feel the tingling where it couldn't possibly be. A pair of backward glances, one side and then the other, confirmed her immediate suspicion.

Those lines of magic were tracing out wings in the air, jutting away from her body. They weren't real, not yet, a phantom limb headed in the opposite direction.

She had to force her breathing to steady. The feeling was bizarre, alarming. It made it clear that this was real as those strings now worked their way up her neck. Would it get inside her? Was it already? Could she choke on pure, raw magic?

Top of her neck now, her chin, she clamped her mouth shut tight and she felt them slip inside anyways, crawl down her throat, through her body, she didn't choke but suddenly the world was all blinding pink light everywhere she looked. Her eyes covered. She felt it spiral up her horn.

The strings went taut like they were tugged from both ends, tighter, tighter, she imagined herself diced like cheese, cut like clay with wire. Endless pressure, not pain, but no feeling beyond the magic working through her body. She was senseless to the world around her.

Time lost meaning, her own body lost meaning, she couldn't conceptualize it, couldn't name the parts that made her. She couldn't think. She couldn't think. That was all she thought, for minutes, for hours, for eternity, she couldn't she couldn't she wasn't–

She was not.

And then she was again.

Her eyes fluttered open. She heard a short shock of breath. A flurry of hooves that faded into the distance. Alone, she stared up at the unfamiliar purple canopy, her mind still sliding off any thoughts of substance. The first one to hold purchase was acknowledgement– she was still alive, probably. She found each of her hooves and twitched them. All accounted for. Her tail too. And… Wings. She could feel them spread beneath her, brushing against the soft silken sheets.

She twitched the tip of each, the wings responding like any other limb. It was unnaturally natural, two brand new appendages that moved like any other, moved like they had always been there. She wanted to see them. She wrenched the covers back, and the covers didn't move at all.

Oh. Right.

Her hoof snaked free and passed over the top of her head. Nothing. She patted around. Ears, eyes, the crown of her head, and in between them all there was no horn. No phantom limb feeling. Just gone, her magic with it.

The sound of hooves on the floor gave her only a second of warning. Twilight Sparkle blew in like a storm, raindrops of words pouring from her mouth, hooves crashing like thunder. Overwhelming. Starlight flinched, and Twilight froze.

Starlight lifted her hoof from her head and waved as casually as she could manage. It took effort to find her voice again. “Hey Twi.”

Twilight practically crawled the rest of the distance, lowering herself to the bedside and gripping Starlight's raised hoof between their own, “How do you feel?”

“I feel, well, normal, which makes me feel strange. Wouldn't it be normal to feel strange?” She blinked and shook her head around, “Did that make sense? I'm still sort of waking up.”

“Sense enough, yeah. I think anything you're feeling right now is normal. You are the norm on this, data point of one.”

Starlight flexed the leg that Twilight held, pulling herself closer. She couldn't keep a mad grin from cracking across her face when she whispered, “I have wings!”

Twilight didn't look quite so thrilled, still all nerves, “You do, and I think I got everything… Hooked up right. It feels right, but there's no way to know without testing.”

“Well it moves alright– Here, look!” She freed her hoof and pushed herself up to sitting, clumsily shoving bunches of sheets away. Her wings rose with her, limp at the ends until her brain commanded them upright. They spread wide, each tiny complex muscle offering a hint of tension, as if from disuse. Now that she was upright, now that she could see them, she stared.

Wings! Knotted to her side by a bundle of thick, wiry cords of muscle. Purple and downy-soft as she brought them around and wrapped herself in a hug. She breathed a sigh, smiling, “Amazing.”

“Well it's a good sign. Do you think you can stand?” A smile nudged at Twilight's lips.

“I told you, I feel normal. Good! Like waking up from the worst nap ever, but I'm awake now.” She swung her hooves off the bed with the belated realization of who that bed must belong to and where she was. Shoving it out of mind, she shoved herself to her hooves. Her wings were still sticking out, it took a conscious thought to remember they ought to fold in, but they obeyed naturally.

The wings felt like a perfect extension of herself. Easy and intuitive. She understood now how pegasi could use them for more than just flying, she's seen how Rainbow Dash uses them to hold her books. They were packed full of fine dextrous muscle that could adjust by fractions across every inch of their span.

She couldn't help it, just as soon as she got them tucked away, she flexed them out again, watching them rise. And she noticed, predictably, her feathers were a mess. Bedhead. Bedfeather? Bedwing.

Twilight noticed too. “We should take care of those first. If I remember right, I did promise.”

Starlight's heart skipped a beat, her wings shot stiff upright. Her cheeks burned. The hours-long seconds it took to drag them back into cooperation were agonizing. Twilight just smiled.

“You'll get used to that. It's a natural reflex, you know, current research suggests it's mostly for foals who accidentally fall, so they'll automatically try to glide,” Her smile twisted into a smug little smirk, “Happens when your heart rate jumps suddenly.”

“Great, who knows what could have caused that,” Sarcasm felt like the only way to save her dignity, bad enough to have such an obvious tell, but what was with that smirk? Was Twilight… No, it was friendly ribbing. Nothing like that. “You did call dibs though, I guess I don't have a choice.”

Twilight's horn lit, the brush flashed into existence from nowhere, and Starlight had to bite down on a brief moment of surprise. As if she had already forgotten Twilight could do magic like that so casually. It was a strange feeling, but she filed it away for later. Hardly important compared to getting her flight-ready.

They trotted back out to the lounge– somepony had been by to clear out the scattering of magic notes– and Starlight settled onto one of the cushions. She let her wings slide loosely away from her like a blanket slipping off a bed and held her breath in anticipation of the first touch.

“I've been looking forward to this, you know,” Twilight said quietly, and Starlight had to carefully release her breath or else she might pass out, “It's such a small part of the whole. Breaking the laws of magic just to brush your wings. Still, I'm excited to return the favor.”

Starlight shivered. Her wings. “Was it a small thing to you?” Dangerous territory. The wrong word and she might crack, spill her guts out to the mare who had done the impossible for her, all to share this moment.

“No, never,” Twilight's reply was quick, sharp. She set the brush to Starlight's wing and ran it slowly, gently through the feathers, pushing them along into their rightful places, “I told you. I missed you. I missed this. More than… More than a lot of things I missed from Ponyville.”

Choked up, Starlight didn't respond. Anything she could say would end up too much. Best to keep quiet. Best to enjoy the feeling, the soft tingling of sensitive nerves and fresh muscles against springy bristles. The inherent correctness of each feather settling into its home. This felt right, just as right as all those nights on the other side, and she knew it wouldn't last, even with the leap taken, it was all just a dream. She would wake from it, she always did.

There was no mercy from Twilight this time. She brushed, and she asked, “Did you miss it too?”

“I tried not to. I tried to move on.”

“Move on? From what?”

“Impossible dreams,” She said, only thinking the real answer.

Twilight paused her brushing and briefly fiddled at the very tip of the wing. It was sensitive and ticklish in a strange way, it made Starlight gasp. “Not so impossible.”

Biting down on her lip, she needed to find composure enough to say, “You're teasing again.”

“And you're looking sour again,” Twilight sighed, stood, moved around to Starlight's other side, the cushion sliding in her aura, “I don't think it's about the wings. Just promise me you'll tell me when you're ready, okay?”

“Okay,” She said, and it wasn't a lie, even if she wouldn't ever be ready, “I will.”

The brush began to move through her other wing, tidying it. The feeling was a constant reminder. It was there, it was real, she could feel all the subtle ways the tiniest currents of air cut across the leading edge, sharper and cleaner with each brushstroke.

Her body finally got the clue to relax. Her shoulders sank, her forelegs stretched out, her head lowered to rest on them. “I'm kind of jealous, actually,” She mumbled, “I never knew how good you had it.”

“I looked forward to it every single day,” Twilight hummed, “Almost done. Ready to fly? Or at least, ready to try?”

Starlight imagined it was meant as a sobering reminder. It didn't phase her. She would fly, she could feel it in her heart, her bones, every subtle tickle across her plumage. “I'm ready. It's like I was made for this. It'll work.”

Twilight raised a brow, “Interesting choice of words. What's got you so confident?”

A shrug, she didn't see the issue, “Just feels right. Like I can't imagine any other outcome. I have to, or what was the point of any of this?”

“A major advancement in magical sciences that'll be remembered for ages? That's a big point, for one.” Twilight's tone wasn't light enough to mask the fact that there was some emotion beneath it. Starlight couldn't place it, it almost felt accusatory.

“I guess, yeah, that's just not where my head is at right now.”

Twilight was staring. Her hoof wasn't brushing anymore.

“What? You're weirding me out, Twi.”

“I had an interesting idea just now. We can talk about it later. For now though,” She stood, casually poofing the brush away, “Lets put you to the test.”

Starlight shot to her hooves, the small flap of her wings a nearly unconscious action to give her just a bit more lift. It sent a current through the room, curtains shuddering. Hoof to head, a mock salute, “Ready to fly, ma’am.”

They were headed for the rear gardens, the only reasonably private outdoor space at the castle, when Spring Showers caught up with them.

“So you really did it? Princess, you're a wonder! This is historic, they're going to write books about this!”

“Please, we still don't know if it actually worked. I guess I can't say I'm not thrilled though, even getting this far is a leap. Imagine how much we could learn about the magic in all ponies, not just unicorns!”

Starlight was only half-listening. It was obvious what held her attention. She walked with wings spread wide still, a faux-pas in normal situations, but this was far from normal. Obsessive, she felt obsessive, fixated on the way those leading primaries slashed the air itself in two. The subtle suggestion of lift. Pure aerodynamics, intrinsic.

“You know Starlight,” The name snapped her to attention, she blinked and looked up at Twilight, “Magic might not be her special talent, but there's a reason I picked Spring Showers. She's been a huge help without you around to bounce ideas off of. You two would get along.”

Starlight wasn't sure what to say, it didn't seem terribly relevant at the moment. The mare seemed perfectly agreeable, and Starlight felt she got along well with most ponies. Ex-villainy left her with an open mind. “I'm glad she's a good fit for you! We both know how much you need somepony to nod their head while you lecture,” She ribbed, diplomatic to some extent.

Wrong answer, apparently, by the way Twilight lifted that curious brow again, her small laugh only halfway forced. Starlight was saved from further scrutiny when the hall terminated at a door.

Spring Showers scurried ahead to push it open and wave both her princess and Starlight through.

Stepping out into the afternoon sun, she had a brief moment to realize she never asked how long she was unconscious for. Only an hour or two, luckily, but her priorities felt all out of sorts.

But her concerns went to pieces the moment she felt the breeze. Drinking it in, it was floral and fresh, the wheels in her head sent spinning. One more leap, one great flap of her wings, she would take to the sky. The moment was finally here.

“I know you're eager, but let's take this slowly, Starlight,” Twilight maneuvered in front of her, even as the muscles in her legs bent, tensed to jump, “Safely.”

She nodded in a flurry, not releasing even a fraction of that held tension, braced like a spring, “Show me how, I'm ready.”

“You certainly are,” Twilight laughed, eyes all over Starlight's poised body, “Okay, simple start, jump and start flapping. Pegasus magic should provide enough buoyancy to keep you in place.”

Without another word, Starlight shot up like a spring, wings shoving down while her legs kicked off. She felt her weight lose any meaning, physics bent to her whims by unconscious reflex as she climbed ten feet, twenty, well above Twilight's head. Her arc peaked, and she slammed her wings down again, an even flap that gave her just another couple feet of height. Another, and another, she was holding altitude, impossible levels of lift for a body full of solid bones and rigid muscle.

She felt the mistake too. So small, so slight for the consequences that followed. One wing just a moment behind the other on one flap, then the next, and suddenly she was looking up at Twilight, and down into the endless sky, and she dropped.

Bracing herself, she laughed, because hitting the ground didn't matter when she could get right back up. Again and again, as many times as it took to leave the ground and never come back.

The impact never came, of course Twilight would catch her, just a foot from the ground. Wreathed in pink aura, it twisted her upright and set her back to her hooves. The moment it released her, she leapt right back up into the sky. She heard the twinned laughs over the rush of wind, but her whole mind was turned towards the task of keeping herself steady, in-beat, on time. Never repeat the same mistake.

Awed conversation, traveling only a dozen feet from the ground, felt so distant from her.

“She's flying. You did it, Princess. You… Rewired her.”

“Right now, I'm mostly just relieved. I wouldn't expect you to notice, you only just met, but something is different. Just a little bit. Like her priorities changed.”

“Maybe she's just preoccupied. Most ponies don't suddenly sprout wings, present company excepted, Princess.”

“Oh, she's definitely preoccupied. This is something else, though.”

The conversation faded away behind another wingbeat, and another, higher, higher. She wondered how high she could go before the air could no longer hold her, before the oxygen thinned too much to reach her lungs.

Competing currents pushed, pulled, lifted and lowered, she felt it all through tension of her wings, a sixth sense completely unlike skimming the pool of unicorn magic. How could that ever compare to something so real? So kinetic? She was done with safe and simple, she had to soar.

One more wingbeat to arc at the top of her climb, and then she dove, wings angling automatically as she traced a slope that cut into view of Twilight and her attendant. She whooped with the thrill, the stomach dropping feeling of descent.

Natural, intuitive, sublime. This is what she was made for. How could it ever have been anything else?

She crested, arced, swooped again, this time headed for ground, and it only took a moment to realize she was coming in much too fast. The thought didn't even occur to her to brace for it this time. Twilight was there.

Warm, if embarrassed relief flushed through her when she plowed into the cloud of pink magic that slowed her descent. It didn't stop her completely, she still oofed to the ground and drew a furrow that would make the groundskeeper weep. Still, it was clear how Rainbow Dash could survive the stunts she failed at, pegasus bodies were apparently quite springy.

She rose from the ground, dirt and bright green grass stains streaking the whole way down her chest and barrel. Her breath came in heavy, heaving pants.

“Apparently your spell didn't help my cardio,” She joked, giving herself a look over, “Or my judgement.”

“Take a breather, I've got a lot of questions for you,” She nodded at a quaint little garden bench, then looked to Spring Showers, “Would you mind fetching some refreshments? I haven't had much to eat since those cookies.”

The unicorn hurried off while Starlight lurched to the bench, exhaustion settling over her. She flopped into it, more prone than seated, and Twilight simply folded herself to the ground beside it.

“How do you feel?” It was gentle curiosity. It only made sense, this was her spellwork after all.

“Like I ran a mile,” She sighed out a long, steadying breath, “Like I wanna do it again.”

“I'm glad it lives up to your expectations, I'd hate to have wasted all that effort.”

“It's so much more than just that! It's like this is who I'm supposed to be, like I'd never want to do anything else, like– like–” She struggled to finish the thought.

“Like a cutie mark?” Twilight offered innocently.

Starlight's throat flipped into a knot. “Oh. Yeah. Like that.” She tried to sneak a glance at her own flank, knowing full well it was completely unsubtle.

“It hasn't changed,” Twilight confirmed, much to Starlight's relief, though the words that followed only made matters worse, “Somehow, you have.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, even as horror set in. Her wings pulled tight against her sides, rigid and disobedient.

“The implications of what we have done here today will be the building blocks for entirely new advancements in the study of magic. You haven't thought about that, have you?” Twilight set a reassuring hoof against Starlight's shoulder, “It hasn't even crossed your mind that our mad science worked. You're still you, still passionate, still a bit anxious, still more reckless than most ponies would think you are. Still Starlight Glimmer. But…”

“It adapted,” She understood. She remembered their conversation, even without that spark, the passion, she still knew unicorn magic. But she didn't have unicorn magic anymore. “Magic. Pegasus magic.”

What she expected was the cold wash of revelation creeping up her spine, the shock of reality that would shake the luster from her misplaced passion. Helpless hope beneath the dawning horror that it was a farce, Twilight had simply drawn a connection where there was none, and any moment she would snap out of it.

When Twilight said, “Maybe we should change you back,” Starlight shook her head. She did. Just a fraction, but she did, because all she wanted in that moment, her muscles bunching, tensing, bracing, all she wanted was to leap into the air and fly away.

Twilight's grip on her shoulder got firmer, grounding her in every sense. “Hey, Starlight, it's okay, we don't have to do anything right now. This is a lot to take in.”

“I'll say!” She didn't mean to shout, “What's– What's the point of it all! If that's all it takes to completely change who I am, how am I not just at the mercy of my own cutie mark. Can you turn me into an earth pony and make me love farming too?”

“I told you, you're still you,” Twilight said, “I don't think you've changed as much as it might seem.”

“But I have! Just this morning I told you that magic was everything to me, that even if the worst happened, I'd still be me because of that passion,” She pushed Twilight's hoof off her, stood from the bench, “It's gone though, I can't even tell you I want it back, because I feel nothing about it.”

Twilight reached her hoof out, but Starlight had stepped too far away. “We can fix that, though, we can put this right, bring your magic back.”

She let loose a senseless noise of frustration, desperation, “You don't get it! I don't want that! Right now, in my head, it's just as horrific as when you told me I might lose my unicorn magic, but this time we know for sure that it's true!”

“It's the way things are supposed to be. The way you're supposed to be.”

“Because now I'm an impossible dream. An impossible nightmare. Time to wake up, right? Face the fact that it wasn't meant to be, that I've got a whole life outside of this and I can't throw it all away in one great big leap of faith,” She paused, panting, angry, was she still talking about the wings? “Time to be an adult, not a daydreaming foal. Back to work.”

Twilight was staring, eyes wide, “I told you, we can consider this carefully, we're not rushing into anything. I'm not sure you're thinking straight, something else is bothering you too, isn't it?”

“Stop that!” She stomped a hoof, burying it halfway in the dirt, “Stop acting like you know I've got some little secret. Anything you want to admit to, huh? Any secrets you're keeping?”

Twilight didn't have a chance to reply because a thought, plain as day, struck Starlight like a slap. Twilight wouldn't say anything. She wouldn't want to pressure her. She wouldn't want anypony doing anything just because she asked. Especially something personal. Intimate.

She was imagining it. Dreaming it again. The only answer she could possibly find here was heartbreak.

Twilight drew in breath. Opened her mouth.

Starlight kicked off. Wings beat. She climbed as high as she could as fast as she could to escape the chance of hearing words that might just break her in half. It was impossible to consider that maybe she was right, that maybe Twilight needed her to say it, when she was ready. Impossible dream.

Level with the highest peak of Canterlot mountain, she crested, streaked off towards the only familiar landmark. She headed for home.

Good Advice

The roar of wind drowned out any further thoughts. The cool air and cutting wind chilled her fiery frustration. The world around her, by sight, by sound, by scent, it fell away, reduced to eddies and currents and the flow of air across her wings. She flew to escape her worries. They would follow, of course, but up here, they didn't matter.

Ponyville was getting closer now, no longer a clearcut speck of rioting color, she could make out shapes. The school. The castle. The square where Twilight's old library used to be. Marks she had left on the town.

Even this high above the world, her heart still found a way to ache. She streaked down from the sky, no longer aiming for town. She struck cloud, and stayed there.

Burying her face in its softness, letting the chill creep into her bones, she tried not to think, and thought too much, and couldn't hold onto any of it. Her head was spinning. Who was she, if her love of magic was so easily exchanged? Could she force herself to want that back? And she should want it back, shouldn't she? There were things to do, a school to run, she didn't have the time to adjust to being a pegasus. Would she even want to run the school anymore, or could that change too?

She could not identify what made her fundamentally her. It seemed to her that that was the whole point of a cutie mark, until that turned out to be just as malleable as the rest. Twilight had pointed to bits of personality, but that personality was informed by her life, a life bent around unicorn magic. Who could she be, as a pegasus? Not the mare Twilight had come to know. They never would have met.

“Hey!” A familiar voice cut into her thoughts. She buried her head deeper, vaguely wondering if she was cursed.

It shouted again, “Hey! Off the cloud! It's clear skies over Ponyville this evening, and you're in the way. Find another one.”

She could feel the rush of unsettled air as the pegasus maneuvered around to the bottom of the cloud. A hoof punched through the semi-solid form, drilling right up to her snout. It pulled away, and a bright blue face, red-pink eyes, and a shock of rainbow mane filled the view.

Starlight stared. Rainbow Dash stared back, gawking.

“Wait, Starlight?” The pegasus disappeared from the view as she made a quick circle around the cloud, then back to put her face to the viewport, “I mean, nice wings and all, but… huh?”

Starlight dragged herself upright. No getting out of this one. Rainbow Dash was beside her in a flash, and Starlight took a moment to be impressed at the level of skill it must take to move that fast, that easily, using so little space. She could appreciate that sort of thing now.

Maybe she even looked impressed, because Rainbow Dash flexed her wings and smirked, “Not as easy as I make it look, right?” The mare’s eyes dipped to the smear of grass and dirt still coating Starlight's chest, “Buuut maybe you already figured that out.”

“The going up part is easy,” She flexed her own wings with a hint of pride, “Haven't quite gotten down getting down.”

Rainbow Dash laughed, at least, but it trailed off awkwardly, “So what gives? Unicorn experiment gone wrong?”

Starlight's face fell, “Gone right, you could say. Twilight had a new spell to show me, but neither of us knew how it would work out.”

Rainbow Dash shot a look towards Canterlot, “You flew here? That's not a casual trip you know. You're a natural, I guess those kites paid off after all.”

“I wasn't really thinking much about it. It just happened,” She pressed her hooves together, nervous, “Hey, Dash, if you're not too busy, could I ask you for some advice?”

Her eyes went wide, shocked, “You're asking me for advice? Sheesh, who are you, cuz you're definitely not Starlight.”

“I don't know!” Starlight cried out, “That's the whole problem!” Her eyes suddenly blurred, stinging and wet.

“Woah, woah,” Dash’s hooves rose together, placating her, “It was a joke, seriously, you still seem like Starlight Glimmer to me. Tell you what, this is the last cloud to take care of, I'll clear it up and we can go for a fly. That always clears my head.”

Starlight ran her forelegs across her eyes, wiping her vision clear. With a little hop, she took to the air, wings a steady beat to hold her just above the cloud.

Rainbow Dash nodded her approval, a shock of pride that made Starlight puff her chest out just a bit. Dash’s own takeoff was much more casual, she seemed to simply slide into the air. One strong kick blew the cloud into invisible atoms.

“Come on,” She jerked her head towards Ponyville proper, “I'll show you the sights. I took Twilight on a tour when she first got her wings too.”

Starlight's heart dropped in her chest and it took every ounce of control to keep her wings beating and not drop to the ground with it. It should be Twilight showing her the sights, helping her see the world from a new perspective, the way she always did. Rainbow Dash was the last pony she wanted here with her.

That didn't mean Rainbow Dash wasn't the pony she needed right now. Maybe.

She pushed the air beneath her and veered towards Rainbow Dash. The pegasus held a steady, sedate pace, accommodating her in the air just the same way Twilight slowed her own trot. They began to trace a lazy spiral around the edge of town as the sun made for the horizon. Not quite sunset yet, but soon.

Her eyes traced the familiar streets, following tiny dots, going about their lives. She marveled at the name of the town, Ponyville, and how it was anything but. For every little figure she could identify as a pony, there was another that walked on two legs only, a dragon, or the great bulk of a yak, the peregrine forms of griffons and so many more. Twilight's impossible dream of friendship, made real.

“So what's got your head twisted up?” Rainbow Dash posed the question casually while leading them both into a gentle banking turn, still tracing out the perimeter.

“Long story,” She sighed back, exhausted even just reflecting on it.

“The short version, then.”

“Twilight made me a pegasus and I lost my interest in magic, it's like my cutie mark is about flying now, not magic,” She said, “She wants to change me back. I don't want that, but I would, I should. How can I give this up though?” She dove and swooped back up to make the point, reveling in it.

Rainbow Dash whistled a breath through her lips, awed and exasperated in equal measure, “I'd just keep the wings, unicorn magic is nothing but trouble.”

“You wouldn't even be curious? If you knew you would be naturally talented with magic, you wouldn't want to try? Just to know?”

“What, try being an egghead like you and Twi?” She barked a laugh, “Not a chance. I know what I'm about, I don't need unicorn magic messing with my head.”

“Glad it's so simple for you, at least.” She tried not to sound sour.

Rainbow Dash flipped and reclined casually, backstroking through the air with her eyes on Starlight. “Why do you have to pick one?”

Starlight sputtered, shocked enough she had to beat her wings harder to regain altitude, eventually snapping back, “I am not becoming an alicorn, no thanks, not me.”

“Point taken,” Her hooves slipped behind her head, helping to hold it up, “But can't you just, y'know, flip-flop? Twilight figured out the spell, so you can change it up whenever you want, right?”

“It's not an easy spell. She might be the only pony in the world who can even cast it,” She turned the thought over in her mind, poking it full of as many holes as she could, “I wouldn't want to be a burden, she's a busy mare now, busier than ever. Besides, Canterlot is a long way from Ponyville just to ask her to cast some of the most complex spellwork ever devised.”

“That sort of thing gets easier with practice right?” Dash did a barrel roll, and Starlight wasn't sure if she was showing off to make a point, “And Canterlot is only like an hour by train. Faster if you fly straight there. Those sound like excuses to be lazy, AJ is always giving me grief for that.”

“Oh right! I never gave you two a proper congratulations, huh! How'd it happen, making it official?”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, “I just asked. And then she told me she had been waiting for so long she thought she might have to buck me in the head to knock some sense into me.” She shrugged and added an affectionately grumpy aside, “I dunno why she couldn't ask. You know how the Apples are about their traditions.”

Of course she just asked. It was that simple for her, she and Applejack were just regular ponies to each other. It couldn't be that easy for Starlight. It wasn't any normal pony she wanted to ask.

Unless… Could it? Be that easy? Was that an excuse to be lazy too? And hoping that she might ask first, ask at all, hoping for her to take the decision out of Starlight's hooves, when that was the last thing the princess wanted to do.

“This is all your fault, in a way,” Starlight said suddenly, a nonsequitur linked only with a stray thought.

Rainbow Dash froze, as much as a flying pegasus could freeze without dropping like a stone. Hovering in place, she put her hooves to her hips, a striking figure of righteous indignance. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You might not even remember giving me that brush. I kept it in my desk. One time, Twilight came to my office for, I don't know, but her feathers were a mess,” Rainbow Dash interrupted with a frustrated groan at that, “I know, I know. I asked if I could brush them for her. She said yes.”

Rainbow Dash blinked, her pose softening, “Oh. You know that's kind of. Uh.”

“She asked me to do it again. Every night, while she studied, trying to figure out how to give me wings. Every night for years, until she moved to Canterlot.”

Dash scratched behind her head, “Maybe it's different for Twilight, she was a unicorn after all, but with pegasi, something like that is um… Uh…” She clearly couldn't find the right word, but the message was clear.

“Yeah, it is pretty uh. Um. Isn't it?” She sighed long and hard, “I tried not to think about it, after she left. Apparently, she thought about it enough to do this.”

“Yeahhh, I'm starting to think this isn't really about the wings.”

Starlight couldn't help but groan. Was she that transparent? But she forced a nod, “It's about… Choices, I guess. I have to jump, don't I? Just like this, just like sprouting wings. I have to know, even if it kills me, because I can't just walk away from it.”

It almost felt demeaning when Rainbow Dash patted the top of her head, right where her horn used to be. Only almost, because it was so very like her. “Look, I can do the Canterlot corridor in twenty minutes. Newbie like you? Forty-five and you'd still make it before sunset.”

Starlight grinned, thought better of attempting a midair hug, and stretched her hoof out for Dash to bump it. “Your advice was actually helpful. Thanks for that.” She spun in the air, set her sights on Canterlot Castle, and shoved her wings through the air.

As she rocketed away, a distant shout caught up to her on the wind, “Could you put that in writing for Applejack for me!?” Starlight almost lost control in a fit of laughter, but off she went.

The only thing left was the leap.

“Twilight!” Starlight cried as she streaked down towards the garden balcony. The princess was still there, huddled at the bench with her attendant, and thank Celestia because Starlight was definitely coming in too fast. She started to pull up right as the cloud of magic once again arrested her momentum, and she struck a clumsy landing. At least the groundskeeper wouldn't have two headaches in the morning.

Twilight looked up, her eyes glassy, twinned trails of damp fur down her cheeks.

Starlight missed the first beat, but not the second, “Come fly with me.”

Twilight fixed her attendant with a wan smile, and the unicorn gracefully backed away. The alicorn, the princess, stood to her full regal height, and shook her head, “Flying at night can be dangerous, and I have to set the sun soon. I'm sorry, Starlight, I really am.”

Starlight's heart dropped, her wings shot out to the side– stupid reflex– and she stomped her hoof into the ground again. “You could set the sun with your eyes closed, in mid-air, upside-down, with a foal dancing on your barrel, and you'd still be able to keep me from crash landing while doing it. Fly with me.”

She didn't wait for an answer, she took off, only a couple dozen feet from the ground, but enough to force Twilight up into the air alongside her.

“Starlight!” She called after her, climbing, gaining on her, “I'm serious! This is dangerous!”

Starlight stopped in the air, wings holding her in place. She set her hooves to her hips and struck the pose no different from Rainbow Dash, “More or less dangerous than magical mad science?”

“That was a mistake too! When you didn't wake up, I spent a whole hour thinking I'd accidentally killed you, or close to it.” Twilight was level with her now, a hoof to her chest.

“None of this was a mistake, it never was. Not a single second I spend with you could ever be a mistake.”

Twilight faltered, dropping a fraction before recovering, “But your cutie mark– your magic, your you?”

“Why should I have to choose? It doesn't matter. If I'm a unicorn, we'll do mad science, we'll bend reality together. If I'm a pegasus, we can fly together, under your sun, under my stars. Even if I was an earth pony, I'd, I don't know! Grow flowers! More flowers than you could ever name, in dazzling bouquets!”

The sun touched the horizon. Almost automatically, Twilight lit her horn and guided it the rest of the way down, slipping it past the curve of the world. It was time, the perfect time, as Twilight looked up and tried to work out the words, Starlight swooped, crashed into her, hugging herself tight to Twilight's chest.

They dropped, tangled together like falcons, plummeting past the balcony, down, down towards the forests below.

“Starlight!” Twilight cried out, trying to work her wings free, pull them upright and upwards. Her opinion was clear, Starlight had gone mad, maybe she wasn't wrong.

“I'm ready to say it now!” She had to shout over the rush of wind, “I love you, Twilight Sparkle! I can't move on, no matter how much I try, no matter how much I lie to myself, that's the truth! Even if you don't feel the same, I have to know, I have to take the plunge, because this can't mean nothing, it just can't!”

Twilight was staring up at the ground, the branches of trees spread like open arms to catch them and shred them. “It always meant everything.” Her words were almost lost to the gale whipping past, but Starlight heard them, felt them in the rumble of Twilight's chest, every hurried heartbeat.

Princess Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes, lit her horn, wrapped them both up tight in her magic, and blinked them out of free fall, back to the balcony.

Upside-down.

They oofed to the ground and fell apart, faces up to the hazy twilit sky. Silence reigned as they both caught their breath. The more the sun’s light faded, the more the stars began to shine through.

“I didn't know how I could ever ask,” Twilight broke the silence first, “So I just didn't. It's terrifying, Starlight. I don't even have to ask, if I even mention something I want to get done, suddenly it's taken care of for me. It's like a whole different sort of magic, ponies at my beck and call, whether I want them or not. Even you, and this whole crazy experiment, just because I asked.”

Starlight flopped over, rested her head on her hooves, “I didn't do this because a princess asked me to. I did it because you did. Because I trust you, and because, clearly, you'd do anything for me. Even the impossible.” She thought for a moment, then laughed, adding, “I didn't even have to ask. You just took care of it.”

She was rewarded with the sight, noticeable even in the dull moonlight, of Twilight's cheeks flushing bright red.

“Say it again, would you?”

Starlight pulled herself a few inches closer, right up to her ear.

“I love you, Twilight Sparkle.”

In a flash, Twilight had Starlight's head between her hooves. She yanked her forward, tilted her own head back, (narrowly avoided goring Starlight with her horn) and kissed Starlight Glimmer.

A brief moment of surprise melted into warm relief. She sank into the kiss, Twilight's head turning as she lowered into the grass beside the alicorn.

Her eyelids drooped, exhaustion setting in. She'd gotten more exercise in one day than she got most moons, most semesters. She let them slide down, let them block out the world. Twilight pressed another kiss to her lips, reassuring, lulling.

She could have fallen asleep like that. Right out there on the cool grass, under her namesake, the stars. Could have, but didn't, because a rumble shook her gut and made a noise almost deafening in the quiet.

Grrrrup.

Her stomach. She was starving. Had she eaten anything at all that day? Half a cookie, perhaps.

Twilight broke out laughing, propping herself up and bending her head to nuzzle against Starlight. “We should do something about that before you pass out, one way or the other.”

“Do the cooks work this late?” Starlight began the long process of getting herself upright through sleepiness and her cramping stomach.

“Absolutely not, but I know where they keep the peanut butter and jelly.”

“Nothing could sound better,” She said before she groaned the whole way to her hooves. Her back was aching, right at the base of her wings. Strained muscles finally realizing they had been pushed to the limit.

“And, I was thinking,” Twilight rose beside her, “It would be a bit of a waste to change you back before we thoroughly research your new condition. If a free spirited pegasus like you can handle being part of a boring unicorn science project for a while, anyways.”

It was all she could do to keep from leaping into the air, and even still her muscles sang with pain at the mere suggestion. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to manage. Unicorn Starlight can thank me later, she's never gonna shut up about this one."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Twilight's head stooped gracefully to place another kiss at Starlight's cheek, "I love her. And you. And even earth pony Starlight. Any version of you, all of them, whatever you want to be, I'll love you all the same."

The words were almost too much, everything she had ever wanted to hear. It felt like the world had dropped out beneath her, all her plans and well tended self-deceptions launched into freefall.

She wasn't worried though, as she walked, held close to the love of her life, she didn't panic, because she knew.

Twilight would catch her. She always did.

Author's Note

it's my fanfiction and i can write an extremely self indulgent and overly long sequel if i want to

who needs to "plan things out" when you can write on vibes and stream of consciousness