The Realistic Applications of the Magic of Friendship

You’re not sure how long passed; there’s no rising sun, sleep comes in scattered, small fragments and, obviously, there’s no manual method of measuring time. Pacing around the cell, taking in each minuscule, uninteresting detail of each... Block? You’re not sure if this area was excavated or it was built, which is a conundrum that occupies your mind; it’s nice to have any sort of break from the hopeless struggles of boredom as you waste away. In any case, it had lost the, although small, amount of interest it had given you; when everything looked the same, it wasn’t terribly difficult to memorize every single detail. It was remarkable at how universal each cell was, but you only have evidence of how placid and boring your cell is.

A faint, distance creaking breaks the monotonous silence; hoof beats echo off the walls, along with what sounds like chattering ponies. Probably some guards, complaining about being forced to deliver any sort of provisions to your cell, or boasting about the grotesque, horrid way they’ll execute you; either way, a blissful distraction or a finale to this tragedy. You certainly know which one you’re hoping for; death is inevitable whether you’re fed or not.

The echoing, metallic clops resound off the walls, slowly growing in volume; the hushed voices are still nothing but bits and pieces of words, unable to be glued together to form a coherent sentence... Although a voice sounds rather filly-like. Guards were often well-built stallions; it’s rather interesting that, of all the ponies they could send, it was some poor mare. Hopefully not a maid, since you’d be positively ashamed of scaring her wits out of her; that is, of course, assuming you had any sympathy for them. Not as if they cared about you, so why should you care about them?

The hourglass that is time ticks away, each step they take another step closer to knowing your fate. They sound close, almost within eyesight; taking a few steps towards the bars, you try to fit your muzzle through and cast a gaze sideways, in hopes of seeing exactly who you have to deal with. The bars, however, don’t possess a gap large enough for you to fit your head between; at best, you can see the next cell diagonally. Your legs move you away from the gaps, turning around to place yourself upon the slab of metal, facing away from the gaps. While you’re curious, depending on how much they’ve been informed, the reaction could be wonderfully precious to you.

The sounds suddenly silence, only a few cells away, if you could judge by how loud the echo was. You’re tempted to turn back, to check if they weren’t merely deceiving you and were right outside your cell; you resist, solely to not fall into any trap they have laid, and not to ruin the element of surprise if they were unaware.

“Stay here, and remain silent. I simply wish for you to observe, my student.” Her voice pierces the dead silence, the same regal, haughty tone from when she addressed you. Had Celestia truly taken you up on your offer? There’s a hushed whisper, probably from her student, before the hoofsteps resume, ceasing before long. You heard them so close, you’re certain that she’s right outside your cell, her eyes burning fierce, imaginary holes into your coat.

Your ear twitches as a rather stallion-like cough echoes around you; proximity would lead you to believe that they’re right behind you, but you refuse to look. Who would she possibly bring? Perhaps that captain with the blue mane, carrying a sort of sabre with which to cleanly cut your head off; you won’t have the honour of being paraded around in public like some sort of war hero, but you’re certain that the guards will take great pleasure from it.

“It is impolite to ignore somepony when they respectfully address you, -“

“Do you think I care?” Your voice breaks his polite, courteous tone, replacing it with your angered voice. “You’re talking to a prisoner; don’t dare put me on the same pedestal you place yourself upon.” His face must be miffed, with how sudden you’re already bucking against him. Metaphorically, of course; you don’t swing that way.

“Rather... Brash, considering how I merely came to argue on your behalf.” Another ear twitch, although it’s in surprise, rather than in acknowledgement of sound. “Celestia seems to believe that you’re... A lost cause. I, on the other hand, share the opinion of her personal student; your case is a pitiful one, but not lost.” The prim voice continues, as if he actually knew anything about you.

“Who are you, to judge me? What do you know?” You begin to twist around, stepping off the metal heap. His coat is black, which is rather ironic with how pessimistic your own attitude is, and your eyes meet. “If you’re some sort of defender of the fallen, then leave. I can defend myself without some fancy, know-it-all who thinks he has any idea of what I’ve been through...”

He seems calm, collected... He looks up at Celestia, who kindly looks down upon him. “Would you excuse me, princess? I don’t believe I’m wanted here any longer.” She nods, and he responds with a curt bow, before beginning to trot away. Your eyes follow him, expecting to see him vanish out of your field of view before he halts, and turns his head, looking back at Celestia.

“Shall I tell your student she will no longer be needed?” So polite, only to tell her that she was useless, without even having the nerve to address her... “She is within earshot; I shall tell her if, and when, she is no longer needed.” Her soothing voice has a hint of malice in your ears; he nods, before his hoofsteps resume, the resounding echoes making your ears jerk with each sound. Meanwhile, Celestia simply stares, a stare filled with a mix of hatred and superiority; you return it to her.

Eventually, there’s a now familiar, creaking echo; he was gone. “Have you come to end my sentence?” Your voice is detached, without any semblance of sincerity or compassion. Her nose rises, akin to how the Canterlot high-class speaks when they truly wanted somepony to know how much more they were worth.

“No. I came here, my little pony,” She began, false sincerity and mediocrity dripping from that manually honeyed voice of hers. “To give you one final chance to repent for the error of your ways, to admit you are wrong, both in-“

You cut her off with a long, drawn out laugh, that reverbs off the walls and around your cell; she simply stares at you, perhaps confused, perhaps preparing a speech, but you don’t really care. A solid minute passes before you begin to slow down, the echoes becoming less and less frequent; with a final, gasping breath, the surroundings fall silent again, before you break it with a few quick words. “Don’t make me laugh.”

For a few seconds, Celestia seems to collect her thoughts; only her multicolored mane moves, swaying to an imaginary spring breeze. “Why must you be so troubling? All I ask is a simply apology, an admittance of guilt, and I shall make sure to reform you...” Your stomach chimes in, momentarily eclipsing her sound, before she continues her ridiculous offer. “Of course, you will be supplied with basic sustenance; food, a warm bed... I do need a new scribe, after all.”

You can’t help but twitch with rage; how low would she sink? How quickly had she tossed you in here to die, only to offer you a saving grace, if only to betray everything she vowed to stand for? Worthless promises, which she expects you to take because it’s your only way out... “Do you think you’re the mastermind behind this game, Celestia?” You take a few steps towards her, your neck craning to look her in the eyes. “Do you think you own my destiny, Celestia? You don’t.” You punctuate the thought by striking your hoof against the iron bars; it hurt, but it felt good, it made you feel alive and in power. Celestia took a step back, carefully preparing her reaction; this was a battle you weren’t going to lose.

“I never said such a thing; you put words in my mouth.” Another sharp clang takes her off guard, and she takes another step back, but she isn’t fearful; she knows you can’t reach through the bars. “If you’re doing anything but an execution, I don’t have any more time to listen to your dribble. I won’t kneel to you, Celestia; you’ll have to kill me for it.” Your eyes meet again, dueling with practiced expertise and pure hatred.

She begins to turn, closing her eyes while reflecting on your condition. “Do you see why some ponies cannot be helped, my student? They simply do not care about anypony else.” You can feel her student nod solemnly, bested by her mentor using pretenses. She begins to walk away, slowly, allowing you to bask in, according to her, a luxurious defeat.

“There’s one filly I care about.” The hoofsteps cease, although Celestia doesn’t turn around; you weren’t addressing her, in any case. You turn around, facing the stony walls of your prison, before continuing. “You could never understand; all you care about is your pitiful throne... You’ve never had it.” Your rage is subsiding as that filly fills your thoughts; it’s the only thing you know of that pacifies you. “I’d give my life for hers; which is why I never want to see her again.”

You can’t see the pensive look on her face, but you suppose that you probably have her stumped, or at the very least, confused. “Oh? There may be hope for you yet. Would you tell me about her? I would prefer that much more than your unfounded insults.” It was a command, but she was strangely sincere; faked, obviously. You turn around, seeing her gaze through the bars, that same false look of serenity upon her face. You remain speechless, moving to back to your perch, eyes locking onto the wall parallel to the bars once again.

“You’d just send her here if you could find her, solely to torture me. I’ve got no reason help you in that.” You close your eyes, voice detached; you can hear her reply, but you don’t answer. There’s no more reason to. You’re not sure how long they remain, nor how long you end up sleeping for a few precious seconds of oblivious delight, but eventually, you can hear them trotting away, hushed whispers in tow, before the creaking of the dungeon door finally breaks the flow of sound. Hopefully you’ll be left to rot like this dungeon; there’s no point in anything else now. Celestia’s speech was nothing but a tirade, which left you more than a little disappointed.

You can’t tell the passage of time, but your body felt stiff, your eyes felt rested, but dry; it had probably been a relatively calm night. If it wasn’t for the dry mouth, shrinking stomach and lack of heat, it wouldn’t have been a terribly bad night; even then, it was the first nearly full night of sleep that wasn’t fragmented beyond belief. Your chest is shaking with each intake of air; your throat was incredibly dry, although it seemed Celestia was respecting your wishes. Death would come, however slow it was, and she didn’t seem to be preventing it.

The creaking door dashes your hopes; she couldn’t possibly be returning, could she? Unless... She couldn’t force you to live, could she? No, that’s a silly proposition, but your brain isn’t in a state to strike it out as folly; your nerves are wracked, and you don’t look behind you. She’s trotting slowly, carefully, probably savoring your panic. You just stare at that wall, even after the sounds cease from right behind you; if she’s expecting a reaction, she won’t get it.

The silence lasts for quite some time, but you’re sure she’s still there; after all, not a sound has been made. “Um... Hello?” Her voice is unfamiliar, but it’s clearly a mare; she doesn’t sound menacing... You don’t let your guard down; while that voice is strangely familiar, it’s probably an act.

“I’ve been asked to die alone. Maybe you could respect that?” Pure venom drips from your words; you hear a sharp intake of breath, perhaps out of surprise, before her reply comes through. “I just wanted to talk, if that’s okay...” She... Sounds sincere. It’s not a certainty, but at least she’s treating you like an equal, no commands or condescendence in her voice... You suppose it’s alright to see where this goes.

“What do you want?” It’s blunt, to the point; your voice is hoarse, worn down by the elements of your entrapment. There’s a small sound, indescribable sound; almost like... Shifting? There’s a sustained shimmering sound, before a foreign cylinder is floating before you, a purple aura surrounding it. You gaze into it, a clear, reflective liquid mimicking your face. Water?

You can’t help yourself; you grab the thing between two hoofs, breaking the magical grip that was on it, before tilting your head skyward. You bring it to your lips, moving it to match your muzzle; even swallowing as quickly as you can, there’s still a fair bit of it which escapes, dripping down your muzzle and neck, which ends up refreshing the bloody stain on your chest. Taking a few gasping breaths, your breathing slowly recovers; it didn’t taste like poison. A shame, really; you thought perhaps she would take your best interests into consideration.

“You’re welcome.” She chimes into your thought process, but it doesn’t sound like she’s mad or expectant. “Thanks...” You trail off, the words awkwardly rolling off your tongue; you’d heard it said, but you’d never said it before. Still, you can’t help but hate yourself for it; you wanted to perish here, not live to regret everything. There’s that rummaging sound again, and then that familiar shimmer of levitation; just like the last time, something appears in another lavender, magical grip. Bread?

Your hooves move on their own accord again, grabbing the roundish piece of bread, bringing it to your mouth, which tears into it; audibly, you chew, ripping the bread into pieces that you hastily swallow. It only lasts a few precious seconds, but the taste of anything edible would’ve been the same; you don’t make the mistake of being rude this time. “Thanks.” It’s still a tad dejected, with your self-esteem and willpower taking large hits; you can’t resist your natural desires any more than anypony else, apparently...

“I hope you’re feeling better after that.” She still sounds legitimately concerned, but you still can’t place that voice. “I was hoping you could talk to me about that filly... I was here with Celestia and-“

“You’re her student? So you’re just acting on her behalf?” You angrily cut her off; you let yourself get deceived to easily, she was nothing but a liar. “Not exactly... I-I still think that you’ve just been mistreated your whole life and, well, since my studies involve ponies like you I was hoping you’d be... Willing to be a sort of...” She fumbles over her words, barely mumbling the last part. “Test subject.”

“You take after your mentor nicely... Abusing a fallen pony for your own selfish, perso-“ To your surprise, she cuts you off, the shout echoing around you. “No! I would never do that!” There’s a plink sound while she speaks; if she’s crying, you don’t look behind you to check. “I thought I could help you. I... Your life sounds like it’s been really bad, and you don’t sound like you’re living for much. I want to help.”

“That’s more than I can say about your precious mentor... But you’re wasting time. There’s only one pony I want to see, and I don’t want to hurl myself on her. She’s a stranger.” You close your eyes, a recollection of memories passing by; she was only a filly, but hope was always what kept you going, no matter how unrealistic it was.

“Would you tell me about her?” Her tone is cautious, but there’s a hint of curiosity behind it. You chew your lip lightly, torn between helping her and pushing her away; she’s probably here for her mentor, even if she denies it, but she did sustain you, even if it was against your will. She isn’t pushing you around either, unlike Celestia; you couldn’t possibly trust her, could you? You’re tempted to look behind you and analyze those eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to. Well, whether she’s the mastermind or you are, it’s a gamble you’ll have to take; after all, there’s nothing left to lose.

“I don’t know much about her. Not personally, at least.” You take a deep breath, your voice shaking a little; social skills were not your talent, much less speaking about personal matters, especially those which you’ve kept locked away for so long. Your hooves are shaking, nervousness filling your entire being. “She was always... Alone. So innocent and pretty, but alone. Unless you counted her books.” Tears started to flow; why were you crying? You shouldn’t care. It doesn’t make sense.

“I always got pushed around by the colts... They’d always say I was silly for liking her, that she was different, but I still did.” A tear drops. “She never knew I existed. I... I tried talking to her once; I asked her to meet me. She said okay, and my heart soared... She never came.” A soft whimper escapes your throat. You can’t hold it back. You’re breaking down.

“I never got to know her. She never knew I was there. I’ve never stopped thinking about her.” Another whimper escapes, a little louder this time. “Maybe I deserved to know her once. Maybe she wanted to know me. Maybe there could’ve been something.” Your cheeks are wet, drenched by pitiful, worthless tears.

“But why don’t you want her here?” Her voice slices through your rambling. “I don’t deserve her. She shouldn’t have to see me like this.” You sniffle. “If she never sees me again, I’ve always got that small, small hope that she might miss me. If she looks at me, I’m sure that she could never... love... this...” You look at your chest, your tears rewetting the dried blood. The tears don’t stop falling; you’re not even sure where they come from, with how dehydrated you must have been.

“How do you know that?” Her voice was filled with pity, a false concern for your life... “How do you know she’d toss you away?” Your eyes are filled with tears; you can barely see, but you slowly descend before turning to face her. You can’t even see her color, with how blurry everything is. There’s an audible gasp, hers, before you cut off any comments. “She doesn’t need to see... this.” You touch the partially wet patch on your chest. “She doesn’t need the burden of seeing me. I don’t deserve to see her.” You’re choking on guilt, a mixed flurry of self-hate and sorrow flowing through you.

You turn around, hiding the stain from her view, and position yourself next to the wall, opposite of where you were originally. “You must think I’m a monster... I don’t blame you.” You shut your eyes, the tears flooding past them. “If she was here, I’m sure she would...” Your head smashes itself against the wall, and you can hear Celestia’s student whimper.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” Her voice is soothing, like her mentor, but you don’t detect any malice; it has to be there somewhere. “It sounds like you really care about her. That’s not evil.” There’s another plink from behind you, probably another tear drop; despite the echo, you can barely hear it. “More than you know... More than you could ever know.” You mumble it, but you have a feeling she heard you clearly.

“Did you even know her name?” She almost whispered that one, scared of your reaction, probably. That fit of rage earlier against Celestia probably startled her, made her wary of you. Your hooves wrap around yourself, clutching desperately at your body. It pained you to think, but for some reason you couldn’t stop. “Twilight Sparkle...” It was nothing but a hushed whisper, but the utter silence afterwards made it ring in your ears.

“Her name was Twilight Sparkle...” Your voice cracks, wracked by bottled emotions. “She’s better off without me. So are you... I don’t deserve to see her... Just leave...” There’s a clink, but you can’t make out what it is. You grip yourself tighter, a fit of sobbing jolts through your body. Time seems to pass so slowly, each sob lasting what seems like an eternity. Something ends up shocking you out of your desperate reverie; a hoof on your shoulder.

Your eyes are still flooded with tears, but you look to your side; this time, you can make out the color of her student’s coat. Purple... Just like her. Then the hoof moves, the whole forehoof itself wrapping around you, pulling you against a soft, warm body; a hug. It’s strangely soothing for a few moments, before your mind starts thinking; it’s pity. She didn’t come in here before you spilt your sorrow, and now she’s taking advantage of it.

You push her away, not hard enough to knock her down, but strong enough to disconnect her hoof. Your body shivers slightly, craving that desperate contact, but your mind hates it. “I don’t want your pity!” The cry breaks your fit of sobbing, the tears starting to slow; control is returning. Her voice is calm, but shaky, struggling to maintain stability. “I’m sorry...”

Your hoof starts wiping away the tears that blind you, giving her the best puzzled look you can manage before growling. “What do you have to be sorry for!?” She flinches, the sound louder than she must’ve expected with the echo. She takes a deep breath, her hooves lightly shaking. What reason does she have to be nervous for? “I’m... Twilight Sparkle.”

If there was a single, desolate strand of thread holding up your existence, that last statement had collapsed that singular, weak strand, and your entire being was crashing downwards, smashing into indistinguishable bits. Your breath dies in your throat, your eyes widening while your perception freezes; there’s just her standing there, staring at you with false empathy, while tears cloud her eyes.

You don’t speak, you can barely even breathe. The one pony who you always wanted, and yet never wanted to find you, because you knew she’d toss you away, was standing before you; maybe she would’ve wanted you before you were like this, before you were in a dungeon, thrown away carelessly by society... Now? Never. Even if she’s crying, tears spilling out of her beautiful, violet eyes, they can’t be for you, can they? “You shouldn’t cry, I’m not worth it.”

“Everypony’s worth something.” She takes an awkward step towards you, her eyes still streaked with tears. “Even you.” She continues, wrapping another forehoof around your neck, pulling you into a soft, lovely hug; you don’t have the willpower to push her away. It felt wrong on every level; she had to pity you, she had to think you were weak, she had to be using you for something, and yet your body craved touch; hers was wonderful.

You sniffle, the hateful, relaxing sensation washing over you; no matter how much you wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. One of her hoofs rubs your back, a feeling you can only describe as soothing; it takes a while, but your breaths begin to steady. Being this close, you can smell her; you can’t make any comparisons, but the lovely scent only serves to relax you.

“Are you feeling better?” She whispers, backing away from you. You just look down, staring at her hooves. They don’t look like Celestia’s, or any other high-class pony, who generally wear some sort of regalia and have them manicured daily. Slowly, your eyes journey upwards, taking note of each small detail in her coat, in particular her chest, which is covered in crimson tears. Despite how badly you feel, you nod; you can’t deny how nice it felt, even if it was fake.

She smiles, not with a superior glint of success in her eyes, nor with a pitiful look; was it actually sincere? You nod slowly, and her smile seems to widen. “Everypony needs a shoulder to cry on sometimes.” She looks around your cell a little, her nerves probably a bit rattled, before continuing. “I know you didn’t want to be a, you know, test subject...” You cringe at those two words. “But I think it would help both of us. I don’t want to use you, but I already asked Princess Celestia, and she accepted releasing you for you to assist me.” Her eyes turn to you again, focusing on your pupils, growing bright as she continues her explanation. “I study magic, and part of my studies revolves around friendship and harmony. I know you’ve probably never had much of either...” She bites her lips, probably scolding herself inside for such a blunt phrase. “Which is why I’d like to have you help with my research.”

You don’t interrupt her, allowing each word to sink in while you gauge each possibility; you could languish here, giving yourself no chance of redemption, or you could roll the die once again, even if your frail heart will break, which seems like the better option. Of course she could just be using you for some terrible experiment, but even if she does, you’d have a better chance of escaping from a single unicorn than the entire Canterlot guard. You take a deep breath, summoning up whatever fragmented remnants of courage you have left, before you give your answer.

“I’ll do it...” That small, quiet acceptance is enough to make Twilight giddy with glee, her hooves tapping against the stone floor rapidly. Her face is enough to make you smile, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through you; it still feels alien, like it doesn’t truly belong, but you can’t deny how good it feels.

“Thank you so much!” She waved a hoof, signaling for you to follow, and she began walking out of your unlocked cell; that was probably what you heard before. You take the small opportunity to sneak a peek at her flank; in the very likely event that you end up back here, a more accurate fantasy couldn’t hurt. Her saddlebags sway lightly as she walks, although you’re not sure if anything else is in them, as you imagine that rummaging noise was her searching through them.

“I really do appreciate this.” Assuming that she’s not two-faced, her voice couldn’t be more sincere. “I just don’t want you to think I’m using you only for my studies; I really do think you’ve gone through a lot you didn’t deserve,” You can detect a hint of sadness in her voice before she continues. “But we can discuss that on the train or when we get to Ponyville. Oh, before I forget, I know it’s a little awkward with that whole, um, scene back there, but...” You think you can see a blush form on her cheeks, but you’re not in an adequate position to see it. “What was your name?”

“Calligraphy.” She turns her head back, smiling warmly. “Do you write a lot? It just sounds like you’d be good at it.” You awkwardly chuckle, a hoof scratching the back of your neck. “Not really...” She raises a brow, confusion spreading over her face. “But you have a quill as a cutie mark, shouldn’t you be good at writing?” She takes her first step onto the stairs; the trip seemed surprisingly short, but chances are that’s because you have a beautiful unicorn talking to you, treating you like something other than trash for once.

“I’m not good at writing, I just make the words look better. Nopony wants that.” The glow of the torches illuminate the solemn features of your face as you speak. “I’m sure there’s a lot of ponies who’d love high-quality writing; it’s just a shame you can’t show me. Those shackles are enchanted to prevent magic casting.” She sighs, probably disappointed; fortunately, you can remedy that. “I can’t use magic, so I guess you can see me write soon.” You smile, but it doesn’t have the desired effect on Twilight; she stops, turning around with a shocked expression covering her face, eyes wide.

“You can’t use magic at all?” Her voice is bordering on worried, almost breaking the threshold; you shake your head, confused by her reaction. “Never been able to. It doesn’t really bother me.” You continue past her, the fresh air of the palace becoming more pronounced with each step. You can hear her hoofsteps resume behind you, but otherwise the silence continues; you probably messed up there, but it wasn’t as if magic was required for you. Magic has that annoying, shimmering aura that gives you away; thievery has no use for it, especially if they know how to function without magic in the first place.

The rest of the ascent was eerily silent, and unfortunately, seemed to take longer than your earlier descent; Twilight had taken the lead again, most likely to ensure you weren’t mauled by any guards the second you left the dungeon. That would’ve been rather painful, if almost desirable; you weren’t ruling out an execution yet. That being said, it would be rude to mislead her, since you had agreed to assist her, after all; no matter how much you were regretting it, if only because of how you knew she’d feel by the end of it. She must think you write for a living, and once she figures out that you steal, that’s going to be one storm that will scatter the shattered bits of your soul far away; you’re in no hurry to let such a thing happen, but you know you can’t lie. Unless she’s lying, but you can’t help but feel she isn’t; it wouldn’t be right to lie to her.

The old, creaky door opens up once more, probably for the last time; at least your inner monologue helped pass the time, but it doesn’t do much else. Twilight greets the guards, and despite her reasons being legitimate, they can’t help but glance angrily at you, although you’re sure none of them would contest the decision; that would require going against the permission Celestia had given her student, and thus going against her. They didn’t have the guts.

The throne room is deserted, strangely, and the room seems rather dark; the first opportunity you get to gaze out a window reveals why. It was night, although you’re not sure how many days, if any, you’ve been inside this place, nor of what time it is. “Twilight.” She tilts her head towards you, but doesn’t cease trotting. “How long have I been imprisoned?” You meant for it to be something other than a worried whisper, but that doesn’t happen; in the dead silence, however, she can clearly hear you.

“About a day and a half; Celestia came to see you the night she sent you to the dungeon, and it took me all day to convince her to let me take you to Ponyville with me.” Her voice is a little sad, but she continues on a more explanative tone. “It’s still pretty early in the morning, so I’ll just take you to my room and wash you up before we head to the train.” Well, that explains why you’re moving away from what you remember to be the gates to the palace, and towards the rather large spirals in the distance.

The rest of your time in the palace was relatively boring; Twilight needed to get cleaned up, not to mention pack a few of the belongings she had brought. There’s also the matter that you were fiddling around with the shower for a while. It had been so long since you’ve had access to civilized contraptions that remembering how to use them was difficult; you didn’t end up needing any help this time, but it’s discouraging. You weren’t built for this kind of life, you didn’t know about it enough to be happy; the only thing keeping you here is that mare outside the bathroom, willing to put herself at odds with her mentor for you.

Although you get cleaned up relatively quickly, since she’s still finishing her packing, you must admit it feels wonderful; being relatively free of filth is a pleasure that you haven’t felt in years. You suppose that she’s to thank for that, since she’s been nothing but kind to you. It feels wonderful, but you can’t help but loathe yourself; you’re taking advantage of her so far, but hopefully you can at least be useful for her at some point.

At least she’s ready to leave soon, but this time, she breaks the early morning tranquility during your walk. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why can’t you use magic? I’ve never heard of such a condition before.” You shrug; the thought had never really come to your mind before this, and honestly, it wasn’t a bother. “Beats me. Never really asked myself why, and I honestly don’t care.” She nods, remaining silent the rest of the way to the station; you’re probably a disappointment to her, since every unicorn who isn’t a foal can use magic. There’s always a worse case scenario, and like everything else, it had to be you who got stuck with it.

She continues to chat with you about mundane things, nothing terribly important to you, but you nonetheless listen to her every word; you owe her that much. She mostly talks about her friends, what they do, how she can’t wait to introduce you to them and where you’ll be staying. You’re sure that you’ll remember it all, if only because it’s such a break from your traditional method of thinking, but you can’t help but think how odd some of it is; you keep your thoughts to yourself, however, and merely listen to her. If there’s a single positive among this, it’s how you get to listen to her voice; she might be a bit nerdy at times, but it’s cute.

As you get to the train station, your conversation has unfortunately worn out. She gives the pony at the door of the train a few bits, enough for both of you to pass into the rather deserted train; apparently the morning trains were as silent and underpopulated as the streets of Canterlot before the sunrise. Twilight leads you to your small private room, probably paid for by Celestia herself, even if it wasn’t terribly fancy. There’s two beds, one on each side of the car, and a fair bit of room; probably built for an overnight train ride. She did say Ponyville was only a few hours by train, so it was probably going to head to another stop afterwards.

As soon as you get installed, Twilight turns over to you from her bed. “If you’re not too tired, would you care to go over what you’ll be helping me with?” You install yourself on the opposite bed, prepared for the worst, before giving a small nod.

“Fantastic! It’s fairly simple. Due to my studies in friendship, I’d like to see the effects of it on a pony who has no friends; it’d be cruel to force somepony to sever all their current friendships, and even then, they’d still remember them, which would foul up the data,” She’s positively thrilled; her research must really enthrall her. “But you’re different.” Her positive voice takes a bit of a hit, but she’s still rather enthusiastic. “Since it sounds like you’ve never experienced it, you’ll be perfect. I can analyze the effects on you, and you’ll make some wonderful friends, I’m sure of it! It’s a win-win situation for both of us.”

Her smile is contagious, and you can’t help yourself but grin a little; as much as you’d hate to say it, you’re looking a little forward to this. You doubt that you’re going to come out of this unscathed, since you’ll be nurturing a broken heart one way or another, but at least you’ll make her happy by doing it. You’re sure that sooner or later she’ll have to let you go, because she won’t have any other use for you; she probably doesn’t want to be known for being friends with a thief, let alone you. Even if she did like you, it’d be torturous to be around her when she has no interest in you, but that’s a burden you’ll have to bear.

After all, she’s more important than you; if she needs you, then you’ll be there, and if she doesn’t want you, you’ll go away. After her explanation, she started reading; you just watch her, and she doesn’t seem to notice you staring, or perhaps she assumed you’re looking at her book. You close your eyes every few seconds, as if you were a camera taking a picture, before you open them again and continue observing her; a picture of a beautiful, innocent unicorn who had the courage to rescue a complete stranger from a sorrow fate.

She’s so absorbed in her reading that she doesn’t notice you dozing off, or perhaps she does but doesn’t say anything to stop you. The last thought you have before drifting off is about Ponyville, and exactly what awaits you; one thing is for certain. It can’t be worse than rotting in a dungeon for the rest of your days, and you only have one pony to thank for avoiding that: Twilight Sparkle.