Impossible Dreams

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.