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It began in short flickers, and it began with this overwhelming sense of deja vu. Twilight was sure she was going insane. Everything she did somehow felt as if it had been done before, like she was repeating every step, every conversation, every day, and, though she had expected some change accompanying her new wings and status, this was especially uncomfortable and unusual. She didn’t know if it even had anything to do with them; but, the timing seemed too coincidental.
So, she went to Celestia, who, in her own frustrating and vague way, offered some insight. “Some” might have been too generous a word, she gave up very little, nothing in fact. Even when faced with Twilight’s insistent and thorough questioning, Princess Celestia only ever said that it was normal and that there was no cause for concern with that infuriating way about her, the one that said “I know better than you”, “you don’t need to know.”
And although Twilight did not feel comforted in the slightest by this response, who was she to question Celestia?
During a particularly heated gossip session with Rarity at the Ponyville cafe, a sudden development occurred. A spark ignited.
An intrusive thought- no- not a thought- a memory? Something like a memory, at least, was thrust to the forefront of her mind, and she found herself unable to speak, words died on her tongue.
The waitress had- has- was going to drop their tray and it would splash coffee all over Rarity’s new coat. She turned her head, observing the space between their booth and the table next to it.
“Twilight, darling?” Twilight could practically hear her cock her head to the side before she caught it in the corner of her eye, “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” But she did not break her concentration, somehow bidden to watch, “Just, waiting.”
“Whatever for?” Rarity asked in turn, and when Twilight didn’t reply she continued, “If it’s our order, I’ll remind you that we just placed it a moment ago.”
“No,” She finally turned back to Rarity, pulling her attention away, “It’s not that.”
“Well then,” Rarity giggled, “What is it?”
Twilight furrowed her brow, wondering for a moment if perhaps Celestia was wrong, if she truly was going insane, until her ears flicked responsively to the hoofbeats behind her, frightfully familiar in their pattern.
She held her breath, preparing herself for either possibility, that her mentor was wrong, or- something else. The former was unthinkable and the latter unknown.
“Twilight?”
It occurred so quickly, the tipped tray, the spilled coffee, Twilight’s horn lighting to capture and envelop it all in her raspberry-colored magic and set it back where it belonged. So quickly, in fact, that by the time it was done, all three parties had yet to speak a word, or even flinch. The waitress apologized, Twilight assured them it was alright while a million thoughts raced through her head, and Rarity…
Rarity stared headlong at Twilight, clutching her faux fur coat in her lap. And when Twilight was finished being trapped inside her own head, she stared back.
She found herself speechless, unable to fully reconcile what had just occurred with everything she knew to be possible. Even via magic, ponies did not normally get such an accurate view of what was to occur in the future. But she had, and she could not understand why.
She stood, carelessly tossing a hoofful of bits from her saddlebag onto the table and excused herself; leaving Rarity frozen in the moment, unable to call after her. She was given no time to demand that Twilight explain what had just occurred or where she was going.
Arranging a meeting with Celestia was one thing, she always found time for her star pupil, even if it was just time spent without speaking a word to one another, but the moon princess, Luna, was harder to catch. Especially when Twilight had just spent entire months repairing her sleep schedule after a few too many late-night readathons destroyed it.
Her alarm went off somewhere close to 3 am, and she was painfully aware of the fact she hadn’t slept nearly enough. Canterlot castle was quiet and dark. She lit her horn and a soft pink glow erupted from the dark, gently washing the room in its light.
Spike was fast asleep, tucked away in his little bed, so Twilight made sure she stepped softly as she made her way out into the hallway.
“Princess Twilight,” A guard nodded, resting against the wall.
“Spearhead,” She replied, “Is Princess Luna- uhm,” she gestured vaguely with her forehoof, “Have you seen her?”
“Oh, yeah I saw her go by a second ago,” He pointed, “Just keep going where you’re going and you’ll bump into her eventually.”
“Thanks.”
Luna and Twilight had never been particularly close. It wasn’t for a lack of effort on behalf of either party, or a lack of common ground, in fact, Twilight and Luna had quite a few things in common.
It was just that Luna and Twilight always found a way to be busy, away from other ponies. Away from one another. But their brief meetings felt so natural, it was odd. Had Celestia chosen Twilight as a student because she reminded her of Luna? How could she have known they’d be so alike?
How could she have known Twilight would free her?
“Twilight Sparkle?” Luna cocked her head to the side, “You are following us. Why?”
“Oh, Princess Luna!” Twilight shook her head, “I- I was just- I needed to ask you something.”
“And this could not wait until you arranged a meeting?”
“No, it’s actually been getting worse.”
“Worse? It? What is it you are speaking of?”
“...Oh. Right, well, it’s, can we sit down actually?”
Luna glanced around, looking at the large clock that adorned the hallway, and out the window.
“I do not have the time for an in-depth conversation,” She admitted, “But I can spare a few minutes for you.”
“Of course,” Twilight nodded, trotting towards a balcony and holding the door open for the two of them with her magic. They settled onto the same bench, Twilight staring very intently at Luna and Luna looking anywhere else.
“Sorry to bother you, I know you’re really busy,” She began, “And it’s not like- an emergency or anything- well- not really- it’s uhm. Well I talked to Princess Celestia about it but you know how she is- she-....uhm”
“She did not give you the answers you sought,” Luna looked at her, “Or any useful information, if I still know my sister as well as I think.”
“...Yeah, exactly,” Twilight smiled, “So, I thought you might know.”
There was a long pause before Luna cleared her throat and broke the silence.
“Know about what?”
“Oh, right. Right. Well,” Twilight fiddled with her hooves, taking a deep breath, “There’s this strange thing that’s been happening lately, and I consulted my library, and yours…and the forbidden archives….but I couldn’t really find anything about it. I’ve been- well- and don’t think I’m crazy please, but, I’ve been seeing the future.”
“Seeing the future?” Luna turned the words around in her mouth, raising an eyebrow.
“Well it’s nothing major, like- no world-ending events, I mean, so far, it’s just been- well at first I just sorta felt like I was repeating everything I did and then about three days ago, I had this- uhm- vision of Rarity getting coffee spilled on her and I stopped it from happening.”
“I. See.”
Twilight waited, practically holding her breath as Luna furrowed her brow, no-doubt searching for an answer to give her. But the first thing she said was practically a repetition of what her elder sister had already told Twilight.
“Well, you need not worry, it is perfectly normal,” Luna nodded once, seemingly feeling as if her answer was satisfactory.
“Yeah- Princess Celestia already told me that,” She wanted to add and it did nothing to stop me worrying but she figured it would be a bit disrespectful. She may be a princess now, but there was still a large divide that lay between her and Luna, and her and Celestia. Especially between her and Celestia.
Her wings and her position were new. And she felt as if they’d always seem new to everypony, regardless of how many years went by. There was a difference between her, a princess, and them, the Princesses .
“Ah,” Princess Luna paused, humming, “Alicorns have unique gifts, unlike any other ponies in Equestria,” she stood abruptly and Twilight stood with her.
“Unique gifts?”
Luna began trotting away, back through the balcony door into the hall.
“Yes, now I must go Twilight Sparkle, I'm afraid I have nothing more I can offer you,” She lit her horn.
“Wait! What do you mean? You can all just- see the future?” Twilight called out in vain, for Luna had already vanished before her eyes.
She snorted, pushing air out through her nostrils in frustration.
“great. Really helpful. Thanks Princess Luna” She stamped her hoof into the ground, flaring her wings, “Ugh! Can nopony just be straight with me?”
The next development happened in Ponyville's very own Carousel Boutique.
Rarity had long been an avid collector of scented candles, she always lit a few when working, they kept her inspired, and she could change them out whenever she became sick of one scent.
She and Twilight had this in common, somewhat, Rarity loved citrus, and floral scents, uncomplicated. Nothing that would distract from the nature of her art. Whereas Twilight preferred scents that told a story of their own, complex and rich.
They’d decided on a couple of exchanges. One, of their favorite scents, and two, of their favorite books. Twilight’s being a fillyhood favorite, the first in a series of thick fantasy novels. It was a well-loved, worn book, the binding having been redone by her only friend in Canterlot as a filly, Dusty Pages, the librarian. Rarity’s being an extremely cheesy romance novel, also fantasy, also well-worn, and well-loved, but maintained fairly poorly.
She almost wished she’d visited Dusty Pages when they’d been in Canterlot for her presentation to Canterlot society as Equestria’s newest princess. But, something made her hesitate.
The old librarian probably had already seen her, hadn’t she? Nearly everyone in Canterlot and hundreds of ponies from across Equestria had attended her presentation.
Twilight was seated in the kitchen, enjoying a particularly good cup of tea. It always somehow tasted better when Rarity made it, though she knew in reality the taste was exactly the same as it had always been regardless of who made it.
Rarity, meanwhile, had left the room to begin work in her private studio, telling Twilight to take her time. Inspiration had struck, and Rarity was nothing if not faithful to her muse. It was almost enough to make Twilight jealous.
But it would be strange to be jealous of an abstract idea, even moreso because Twilight and her were only friends.
She was struck with another vision and dropped the tea cup she’d been holding, barely catching it before it shattered on the floor. Fire. She saw fire, she heard Rarity scream in horror, she nearly felt the flames, the heat.
She shivered.
Just then, she heard Rarity's lighter flick, and her blood ran cold. She scrambled immediately to reach her, knocking over her chair in her haste to get up.
“Wait! Rarity!” Her voice was more loud, more panicked than she meant it to be “Rarity! Rarity!”
“What?!” Rarity rushed out into the hallway, and Twilight immediately grabbed her, wrapping forelegs and wings around the other mare “Twilight? What's wrong?”
Twilight heaved a breath “You didn't light that candle, right? Please tell me you didn't,” tears fell down her cheeks, her face was a darker, redder purple.
“I hadn't gotten around to it…Twilight?” Rarity looked up at her, “What's wrong, darling? You scared the daylight out of me. You act as if the world was ending…again.”
“I- I” Twilight stuttered, stumbling over half-formed words and phrases “I don't-” she clutched Rarity tighter “I'm sorry. I thought- I don't know. I don’t know.”
“Twilight, I know that you're upset, darling, but I am not, despite how soft I may be, a stuffed animal,” Rarity pushed against Twilight, working her head away from the other mare's chest, “I am a pony, and I need to breathe.”
Twilight loosened her grip, “I'm sorry. I just-” the words failed her.
“Here,” Rarity took her hoof in hers, leading her into her studio and sitting her down on the chaise lounge “You need this more than I do at the moment.”
Twilight settled onto the lounge, looking around the organized chaos that was Rarity's studio. Fabrics were thrown every which way, spools of thread piled in baskets and on shelves, scissors, pins, safety pins. Rarity trotted out of the room, promising she'd be back in a moment and Twilight scanned it, eventually finding what she was looking for: the lighter and the scented candle. Both were out on a small table and she quickly levitated the lighter into an open drawer, closing it and letting out a sigh of relief.
“Twilight?” Rarity questioned, “What was that for?” She handed Twilight a fresh cup of tea and cocked her head to the side.
“I- uh- I just- well i wanted to-...”
“Never mind,” Rarity cut her off and waved a hoof, shaking her head, “Drink your tea, dear. Once you've calmed down then we'll talk.”
Twilight stared into the dark pool of liquid, frowning at her reflection. This was not a conversation she wanted to have at the moment, especially not with Rarity.
Not with Rarity because before she was an alicorn, she was a unicorn, and that unicorn was desperately in love with the other.
And now she couldn't be.
What if she scared Rarity away? What if everyone made their distance now or was already making it and she was too blind to realize? What if Rarity thought her too untouchable? They’d all already begun calling her Princess and she didn’t feel it was right to tell them to stop, despite how uncomfortable the label was, despite how much distance she already felt it putting between them. What if she did confess, and Rarity did love her, but she couldn't take the spotlight?
Twilight couldn’t take it either.
And now this? What if it made her even less like her pony friends, less herself, different in a way they could not reconcile?
What if they thought she was a freak? What if they already thought she was a freak and now they’d think even less of her- what if-
“Rarity?” Twilight offered, her voice sounding small “Can you do me a favor?”
“What is it, darling?”
“Can you get me some tissues?” Twilight recalled them, sitting on the kitchen counter, and she could easily poof them to her.
But Rarity couldn't.
“Of course, darling,” Rarity disappeared around the corner, and so too did Twilight, teleporting away as soon as she was out of sight.
The night Twilight had transformed was secretly, and she’d never admit this to anypony else, the worst night of her life. She’d awoken that morning to a horrific mistake she’d made and subsequently spent all day correcting said mistake. But that wasn’t what had made it so awful.
Twilight had made plenty of mistakes in her life, all equally feeling as if they were the end of the world, all of them feeling as if they were gusts of wind and she was dancing on the edge of a knife, seeming as if she'd topple over at any moment. All of those she had survived.
So it was ironic, painfully, horrifically ironic, that in repairing a mistake, she’d made a worse one, the worst one and she couldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. Because who would understand?
“Rarity?” Twilight trotted alongside her, struggling to keep her new wings in place, she’d offered to give her some tea to help her relax. Clearly, Rarity had read her panic as excitement or exhilaration.
“Yes, darling?” There was a smile in her voice, and Twilight suddenly remembered that this was meant to be a happy occasion, she was meant to be thrilled, ecstatic, celebrating “Oh, I mean, yes princess?” Rarity giggled.
Twilight was supposed to be happy.
But she wasn’t.
She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t excited. She didn’t feel how she was meant to feel. She didn’t feel like celebrating.
What was wrong with her?
“How- how do you feel about all this?”
“How do I- well-” Rarity began, incredulous, “This is absolutely wonderful! You’re a princess now! And just look at those lovely new wings,” she stopped in her tracks, “I mean, really, look at them. Pick them up, darling, let me see.”
Twilight obliged, gingerly raising them for Rarity to inspect, and Rarity- Rarity- touched them, running a hoof along them, the alicorn blushed wildly.
“Oh there’s no need to be bashful Twilight,” Rarity looked them up and down, “They suit you perfectly. They’re so beautiful, regal even,” she insisted, “and very very soft,” Twilight tensed, “It’s like- oh- it’s like-..” and she glanced back at Rarity, whose brows were furrowed in concentration, “It's on the tip of my tongue…I’ll just show you when we get to the boutique.” She finally let the other mare's wing go, it dropped to the ground, and Twilight released the breath she’d been holding.
Rarity trotted forward and Twilight lagged behind now, picking up her wings like they were part of some new dress she'd tried on and it was getting in the way of her walking because it didn't fit. Because it'd never fit. They would never fit.
“Twilight, dear, whatever’s the matter?” Rarity was practically at the door of the boutique now, staring back at her.
“Nothing! Sorry! I’ll be right there!” She pinned the wings to her sides and caught up with her.
It’s funny, how time goes by so quickly when dread works its way into the equation, Twilight read about it more than once, something called time dilation, how time passes differently for each pony depending on certain variables. Once, she had explained it to Rarity in passing when the unicorn asked what she was reading about. She seemed confused at first, furrowing her eyebrows as she normally did when Twilight said something completely incomprehensible but she was feeling too polite to say so directly.
“Ah,” she had smiled, “A watched pot never boils.”
And Twilight had nodded, thankful for once not to be told she was incomprehensible, thankful to be understood.
“Exactly.”
Now, she wished the same were true, that the pot would never boil, so long as it was watched. But Twilight had watched it, ticked the dates off her calendar, and glanced at the clock as often as she remembered (she swore it was every other minute) but time moved on as it pleased, consuming days in its ever-hungry flame, leaving only the ash of memory behind.
The day had finally arrived, her introduction, the day she’d paced, and memorized flashcard speeches for, the day she’d gone through extensive last-minute dress fittings for. The day… her day she supposed. A graduation of sorts. The next step. A natural progression.
All these things she scarcely believed, but her mentor clung to those notions with such passion she could hardly just discard them entirely. It was her teacher, the mare who’d practically raised her, she had to know better than Twilight did. She had to. Because she’d been through it herself hadn’t she? However many thousands….
Thousands of years.
Twilight bit her tongue, trying desperately to quell the growing nausea clawing its way up her throat. The sudden sickness that took hold, burning in her brain with those three words outside the two imposing doors leading to the balcony room, the same room Cadence and Shining Armor had said their vows in, Shining Armor she blinked, trying to suck in a breath of air to cool the growing heat of anxiety in her lungs, finding it only fed the flames.
He was going to die. She blinked again, forcing tears back into their place, this wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time.
The doors flung open, unwatched and so bidden to act in the most inconvenient of moments, ponies stared. Eyes upon her, she wanted to flee. She begged her legs to carry her back, away from all of this, back to where they’d begun, back home. Home. Home to her body. But they pressed forward, and her body followed. She stared forwards, trying to think of anything else, pick out the details of the room, the dresses, recite something from memory, something- something- something .
Her eyes landed on Rarity, and a sense of calm overtook her as she gazed at the mare. She seemed so poised, so indifferent, so unchanged. As if this wasn’t something she’d been excitedly talking Twilight’s ear off about every time they’d gotten the chance to speak as if she wasn’t watching her work prominently displayed to so many ponies, as if Twilight was not a princess.
Rarity stared back, it seemed as if she made a point of taking a deep breath, Twilight watched her puff out her chest with pride, her head held high, and found herself involuntarily mirroring the actions as the train of ponies behind her began to sing. Rarity smiled, and Twilight shut her eyes, traveling the path by memory, as gracefully as she knew how.
There would be time to think about all of this later.
Another unwelcome vision hit Twilight within the few weeks she had spent moping and hiding away at her sister-in-law's castle in the Crystal Empire. This time, it was hours in advance, and she knew this because she timed it, like she’d timed every other one she’d remembered since Rarity’s boutique.
She shuddered at the memory.
She’d recognized somewhat of a pattern: as time went on, her visions became stronger and stronger, able to see more and further into the future.
This one did not revolve around Rarity, but rather, Cadence. She had seen that they were going to have a conversation, and in the middle of it, Cadence would be called away by Shining Armor to deal with somepony who simply wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“So, they didn’t reveal…anything?” Cadence cocked her head to the side, as they both trotted side by side in one of the many aimless hallways in the Crystal Palace.
“Yep,” Twilight nodded, she felt exhausted, though it was only midday, but again she was faced with the choice of catching up on her sleep or attempting to get answers. And she would always choose answers, even to her own detriment.
“Sounds like them,” Cadence giggled, and Twilight returned a tired smile, “They’re very committed to that whole, ‘ancient mysterious alicorn’ act. So, I guess that’s what you’re here for, huh?”
“Yeah,” Twilight nodded once more, feeling more and more tired with every step, more of a shell of herself.
“Well then…hm.. I suppose mine started right after-”
“Cadence!” Shining Armor approached them from the front, scrambling down the hallway, “I'm sorry,” He immediately added, “The guards reported that there's a mare here to see you. She’s very adamant. Says it's extremely important, she had a letter from the princesses with her. Hey Twily,” he tacked on a greeting, looking very much like he needed a nap himself.
“Hey,” It was a shame, their conversation had just begun.
“Did she say who she was?” Cadence asked, frowning.
“No, and I don't think she's a diplomat or dignitary, she could be, but regardless it seems pretty important,” Shining replied “And, she’s very insistent.”
“Very well then, I'll walk down with you,” She sighed, throwing an apologetic glance at Twilight as the two began to walk away “I'm sorry Twilight. We'll talk later, okay?”
Twilight affirmed, “Okay,” even knowing it was most likely a lie. She disappeared down the hall and onto her room.
After a short nap, brought to an end by her own restless mind, Twilight decided to get some reading done. The turn-off your brain kind of reading, as Rarity called it.
She lay on her bed, alone, holding the novel she’d been working through the past week, it was cheesy, the prose wasn’t the best, but it was the only thing in her saddlebag. And besides, she missed Rarity terribly and stupidly, in her own self-imposed exile. If Rarity loved the book it couldn’t possibly be so bad.
After the first few days begging Cadence and Shining Armor to keep quiet about her whereabouts; she’d grown bored of hiding. There was no library in the palace, and she didn’t want to risk being seen by the Crystal Ponies, giving her location away. Being in the Frozen North had its perks: It was hard to reach, and it was-...new?
Maybe she’d overestimated the benefits of staying in the palace. Which was fine, it wasn’t as if she was on vacation. She was here with a singular purpose in mind: avoiding Rarity and thereby avoiding another change, another conversation.
Her wings she couldn’t hide, but this? She could hide this.
Rarity would forget about it eventually, and if Twilight simply acted as if nothing was wrong when she returned, if she never mentioned it, maybe she could get away with playing pony a while longer. Perhaps she could be herself for a while longer, and not a princess, not an alicorn.
She could play pretend until this whole nightmare was over, and she would wake up in her library, and she would be a unicorn again, and her body would be unchanged, untainted, and comfortable. And Rarity would see her as a peer, a friend, maybe a lover, the unicorn she truly was, and not the creature she’d become, immortal, powerful, royal- other.
She glanced at the pillows next to her, taking slow, deep breaths to soothe her panicked body.
If only she could stop thinking about it; then it would be alright.
“Twilight?”
She bristled at the sound, familiar as it might be, and slowly turned her head, finding a disheveled, annoyed-looking unicorn mare standing in the doorway of her room.
“Rarity..?”
Rarity looked tired, eyeshadow replaced with dark circles. She’d never known Rarity to look so- not put together. Even at their sleepover, when Twilight had woken up before her, it was as if she woke up, slept, breathed, forever looking that perfect.
“Twilight. Sparkle,” Rarity huffed, shutting the door behind her, “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Twilight shrank under the other mares' gaze, turning back towards her book.
“Well?”
“I’m sorry, Rarity…”
“I don’t understand, darling,” Rarity trotted further into the room, “Is it something I said? You left in such a hurry, you didn’t even say goodbye- everypony just thought you’d vanished without a trace.”
“I…” Twilight laid her head down on top of the open book, rereading over and over the same phrases, trying desperately to stop her thoughts from racing.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
She wanted it to stop, she buried her face in her hooves, she didn’t. She didn’t have anything to say to Rarity. She’d already apologized, wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t she just leave her be?
“Twilight? Is something bothering you?” Rarity placed a hoof on her shoulder and Twilight suddenly had an awful idea.
She could make it stop.
She glanced over at Rarity, peeking through the gap between her hooves, she could make it stop right now. Because she was a princess. And princesses didn’t have to answer common ponies' questions, did they? They didn’t have to admit hurt or fault: they didn’t have to bare their hearts to unicorns.
And if she was already seen as set apart from her friends, why not use that to her advantage?
“Twilight? Speak, darling,” Rarity had tilted Twilight’s chin up and now waved a hoof in front of her eyes, “Say something, please. You’re frightening me.”
“Go away, Rarity,” The words tumbled out of her mouth, unbidden, unwelcome, and Celestia what she wouldn’t give to unsay it. But she held her tongue, stopping apologies from chasing after it.
“What?” Rarity whined, her lip quivered, as it always did when she was especially upset, and Twilight tore her eyes away from the mare.
“Go away before I make you go away,” Twilight furrowed her brow, why was she saying this, why was she saying this, why was she saying this .
“Twilight, I-” Rarity balked, stepping back.
“Get out or,” Twilight stopped a moment, “or I’ll call the guards.”
She heard the other mare pause a second, taking a breath, opening and shutting her mouth, and scoff, before turning around, opening the door, and leaving without a word.
Twilight turned to look, catching a glimpse of Rarity’s tail, her cyan-coloured magic surrounding the door.
Slam
It was easier not to think about it. It was easier not to think about Rarity’s face. About her friend's attempts to reach her.
It was easier not to think at all. It was easier to do, to be.
Princesses had royal guards. Princesses didn’t have unwanted visitors.
If she had to be a princess, she was going to have what princesses had. She was going to be alone if she damn well pleased.
“Twilight, Rarity sent another letter,” And princesses didn’t have little dragon brothers, “I think you should read this one. It’s really nice. And she gave you a little card that Fluttershy made for you.”
“Twilight, you could at least look at me, you know?”
Princesses didn’t have little dragon brothers.
Twilight spent her days in her library with her books and her notes, and nothing, and nobody else. Her visions had stopped, and her mind was quiet. And the silence was a comforting, dark blanket she wrapped herself in, hiding away like a foal in a blanket fort, like she had done so long ago, books and hornlight aglow.
She tied her mane back into a bun, not that it mattered, it was just in the way; she hadn’t even bothered to look at it. It was becoming especially annoying lately, it always felt as if there was a breeze moving it; the windows and curtains were drawn, so there was no apparent source. She’d unpacked her saddlebag, searching for a particular quill she favored, when-
Out tumbled that cheesy romance novel.
And it was the only thing that made her feel in weeks.
She stopped in her tracks, giving it an accusatory glare. As if objects could crumble under her gaze as if it would stop, stop, stop making her feel.
She sniffled involuntarily and her face felt wet. She reached a hoof up to her cheek, feeling it. Why was it wet?
It didn’t matter, she tugged her hoof back, setting it on the ground.
It didn’t matter. Even if it had, it wouldn’t anymore.
Princesses didn’t own cheesy romance novels.
Twilight lit her horn, grabbing the neglected stack of letters and a bit of twine, tying them to the novel. She grabbed a sticky note, carelessly scrawling a “for Rarity” onto it, and pressed it against the stack, carrying it next to her, keeping it at a distance as she stepped into the hall.
“Deliver this to Rarity,” It fell to the ground, and a pegasus guard picked it up.
“Yes, princess.”
The forbidden wings of the Canterlot Archive were not forbidden to princesses. When she visited them, late in the night, time travel spells were what she had in mind, age spells, anything that could alter the current state of one’s body.
Apparently, her visit had been anticipated.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia’s voice sounded behind her as she picked up and discarded various scrolls. She did not turn to face her.
The room lit with soft, golden-colored magic, and there was a soft gasp from her former mentor.
“Twilight?” She felt the magic turn her around, and she found eyes upon her, gentle lavender-pink worry scouring her face and body as if they were suddenly unfamiliar.
“What happened to you?” Celestia sounded almost fearful. Princess Twilight frowned, and Celestia placed a hoof on her shoulder, the larger alicorn’s frown mirroring her own and deepening.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Her voice was flat, blank, thin like paper.
The mare stepped back, blinking, once again looking the younger alicorn up and down.
“Twilight, is something wrong?” She ventured, stooping down to whisper something unintelligible to an accompanying guard who proceeded to scurry off.
“No,” Once again Twilight’s voice was flat, it sounded like an absolute. Nothing was wrong, nothing is wrong, nothing would be wrong.
“My faithful student,” Celestia’s voice softened, the frown fading from her face, “Don’t think me so unfeeling that I can’t tell when something is bothering you.”
“Nothing is bothering me,” The princess's voice cracked, and she didn’t know why, “Go away.”
Celestia settled on her haunches, sitting on the floor of the archive, seeming to have made her mind up to stay, and displaying that very clearly. Twilight snorted, pushing air out her nostrils in frustration.
“Fine, then stay,” The princess turned back, resuming her search through the scrolls, pulling them open to quickly skim the text and immediately returning them to their place.
“What are you looking for?” Celestia’s voice remained soft, and Twilight didn’t know why. The light from her golden magic dimmed and eventually disappeared altogether.
“Age spells,” She replied automatically, “Or time spells. You keep them here.”
“...Yes,” Celestia’s voice dripped with guilt, sadness, and Twilight still didn’t know why, “I do.”
Twilight glanced back at her, an involuntary motion, she didn’t really know where it came from. Celestia’s head was lowered, she looked back at her, seeming at a loss for what to do, what to say. But that wasn’t right.
This was all wrong.
The princess turned back to her scrolls, coldly continuing her examination. Eventually, about 30 more scrolls in, hoofbeats sounded in the hall; a pair of ponies were making their way to the archives.
“I’m very sorry, again, for disturbing you. Princess Celestia said it was very urgent,” A guard said.
No reply came, they continued on their path. Eventually, they approached the doorway, a pause, one pony left, and the other stayed.
“Sister? Twilight Sparkle?” Luna entered the room, her hoofbeats were soft, “What is the meaning of this?”
Twilight didn’t turn to face her, she heard a gesture, Luna’s light blue magic lit the room.
“ Oh, ” Luna’s voice was faint, shocked, but understanding nonetheless.
“...I don’t know what to do,” Her sister's voice was equally faint, it held so much shame for such a small collection of sounds. Too much shame, too much self-reproach for the perfect untouchable sun.
The princess continued looking through the scrolls, shifting her position every so often to face another shelf. And the two sisters faced her, unmoving, holding a silent vigil. Until eventually, Twilight huffed in frustration, unable to find what she sought so dearly.
“Where are they?” She asked, accusatorily, as she turned sharply to face the pair. When they only stared and didn’t speak, she let out a groan.
“Fine. I don’t know what the hell I expected from you two,” She lit her horn, dark raspberry magic lighting the room a final time.
And then Twilight Sparkle was gone.
Rarity didn’t know what to expect exactly when the princesses called upon her and the others. But she knew, deep down, that something was wrong with Twilight. Very wrong.
She was angry at first, angry when Twilight told her to go away, angry when she was barred from speaking to her by those damned guards, angry when her letters remained unanswered, furious when her letters were returned, unread, carelessly tied to the novel she’d given Twilight. But now, all she could feel was dread.
The train ride to Canterlot was a silent one, though the booth they sat in was full, and there were many other ponies with them, all taking the same journey. It was as if they could all sense the apprehension, the fear filling the air around the group, and found themselves equally unable to speak.
It was Rarity who broke the silence because of course it was. She wasn’t going to very well sit there and let everypony look and feel miserable.
“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it,” She said, with a finality and confidence she didn’t feel.
“Yeah!” Pinkie Pie affirmed, “Of course we will,” with a confidence and finality she surely did feel. Because Pinkie Pie was always so sure everything was going to be alright. Rarity envied her.
“I ain’t so sure. We don’t even know what’s wrong. And we don’t have Twilight,” Applejack replied.
“Do you think she’s alright?” Fluttershy turned to Rarity, her voice soft as ever and Rarity stumbled for a moment.
“Of- Of course she’s alright darling,” She reached a hoof over, placing it on Fluttershy’s, “She’s an alicorn, she’s- she’s our Twilight. She has to be.” The pegasus stared back at her, her gaze searching the unicorn's face for something. Finally, Fluttershy held Rarity’s hoof in hers, the silent exchange of anxiety between the two somehow made her feel better. Less alone.
“Guys, Twilight always has our backs, she’s super smart I mean- she’s an egghead, and she’s always got a plan. Of course she’s alright. And even if she isn’t, we’ve got her back, so she’s gonna be okay no matter what,” Rainbow Dash said with finality. And that was that.
Twilight was going to be alright.
The princess furiously scribbled onto a scroll, pausing only to dip her quill in ink, to discard one scroll and pick up another. Her actions were cold, automatic, repetitive. There must have been at least a hundred discarded scrolls surrounding her, perhaps more, all of them crumpled up without care. Failures . Her visions had returned now, worse, frequent, plaguing her every moment with mundanities from the future, books knocked from shelves, inkpots spilled, quills broken. Things she hadn’t the time to sort nor care for. But like other things she found discomfort with, she’d learned to take advantage of them.
Now she needn’t try to cast the spells before knowing if they’d work or not.
Grief hung in the air of Canterlot Castle, a heavy, exhausted feeling. Though nobody had died, really, someone was missing. Someone was missed desperately here, and everybody knew whom.
Rarity really tried to keep her head held high, really, she had tried. But loss is a burdensome thing, it wants for misery and hopelessness, and in its purest form, it is unable to be shouldered. Trotting into the throne room, a sad sight greeted her.
Princess Celestia sat beneath the stairs of the throne, facing her sister who was by her side. She did not stand to greet the ponies, but Princess Luna offered a nod in their direction. Princess Cadence and Shining Armor stood, offering comforting words to Spike who, above all things, looked exhausted. If she had not been worried before, she was now.
Surely the princesses of all ponies had more to offer than this? Hope? A plan? Something. Whatever had happened to Twilight, they were surely capable of more than this.
Rarity again found herself in the position of being the first to speak, because of course she had. She stood tall, cleared her throat, and began.
“Well then,” She looked around at the group, “I think we’ve all done quite enough sulking, don’t you?”
Twilight arrived in a ball of brilliant light, brought forth by her steadfast mentor, just as she had the day she’d transformed, and it was as if she’d morphed into something unrecognizable. When the light cleared, and the several hundred scrolls she’d apparently been holding dropped, revealing her form, the shock in the room was thick like the very atmosphere weighed down on them, waiting for a thunderstorm.
Twilight was not Twilight. She stood before them, cold, her hair messy, floating behind her like- like a princess? Like a nightmare. Tied haphazardly in a bun like she’d gotten tired of trying the moment she started putting it up. The edges of her were blackened like ink had stained them, her hooves, horn, her flank, her wings. The white stars surrounding her pink cutie mark had gone. Her eyes were dull and cold.
“What do you want?” Her mouth was full of fangs, like a timberwolf? Like a nightmare.
“Twilight Sparkle,” It was Princess Luna who spoke first, filling the oppressive silence, “Your friends wish to speak with you.”
“Oh?” And it was wicked, a wicked voice, belonging to a wicked mare. A nightmare. And for once Rarity was unable to find the words she wanted to say, her mouth opening to release a breath and nothing more. The atmosphere bearing it’s full weight down on her like a warning. Run, run, rain, thunder and lightning come.
“Twilight,” Fluttershy was the first among her friends to speak, but Rarity could not tear her gaze away from the nightmare, she was afraid that if she did, she might flee, “We’ve all been very worried about you.”
“You shouldn’t be.” It was flat, it was an absolute.
“I- I think we should be sugarcube,” The nightmare stood at the peak of the throne room, friends standing at the bottom of the stairs, “You ain’t been acting like yourself.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” She splayed her wings, displaying the dark corrupted things like a prisoner might display their handcuffs, to make a point, “But things have changed. I’m a princess now.”
“We know, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash spoke up, “But that’s not what we’re talking about. I mean, have you looked at yourself lately?” She gestured vaguely at her.
“Why would I?” She rolled her eyes, straightening up to her full height, taller than Rarity had remembered her,
“Are you okay?” Rainbow finally asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Rarity paused, oh. This was Twilight. Of course it was. There she was. She stared at the mare harder, picking it out, there she was, just- different.
“Darling, of course it does,” Rarity responded, trying her best to straighten up and look calmer than she felt, “If something is bothering you, of course it matters.”
Twilight stared back at her, eyes slightly wide for just a small moment before she shook her head.
“Nothing is bothering me,” Twilight frowned. There she was. “I’m going to return to my studies,” She lit her horn, “Don’t try and stop me.”
Oh, Twilight.
“We can’t just let you go, silly,” Pinkie Pie chimed in, “You’re acting crazy.”
She tried, unsuccessfully, to teleport away, ending up at the other side of the room, the other ponies following her, surrounding her. She turned back, glaring at them.
“What did you do?” She spat, venomous.
“I’m afraid we cannot let you leave, Twilight,” Princess Celestia finally spoke, “You cannot isolate yourself any longer, it has had grave consequences. And I fear if I allow this to continue, you will travel down a dark road.”
“The same one I did,” Princess Luna finished.
Twilight turned round, facing each of the ponies with a gaze much like a cornered animal. Her horn blazed with dark magic.
“Let. Me. Go.”
When she received only shaken heads in response, she reared up, preparing to attack…
Rarity penned a new dress design to paper, the next grand galloping gala wasn’t far off, and her previous design for Twilight’s dress was no longer sufficient for such an occasion. Not to mention her introduction to the rest of society as an alicorn princess, Canterlot society no less, which was approaching even more rapidly. The poor mare must be anxious out of her mind about it. The least Rarity could do was ensure her dress was perfect for the occasion. If the unicorn knew her well enough she’d be right in guessing that by now Twilight was probably pacing around the floor of her library, wearing grooves into the floor with her hooves as she prepared her speech, or, dictated her speech for Spike to write down.
Plenty of revisions were to be made, if she knew Twilight, the two were similar in this way. She hoped Twilight was taking better care of herself than she was right now. Drinking three shots of espresso in a row on no sleep could not have been good for the unicorn, but when the muse called upon her, nothing could prevent her from fulfilling her sacred task. Of course, many ponies thought it was silly, to take fashion so seriously, but Twilight, Twilight was different.
And Rarity must confess her feelings for the mare had only grown since their first meeting, developing into some sort of silly school-filly crush. With the things they’d faced together since their first meeting, it was evident that the mysterious stranger from Canterlot was more- strange- in all the best ways- than Rarity had first thought.
She was neurotic, yes, and prone to jumping to conclusions, but she was also passionate and caring, and funny. Rarity felt as if she’d known her for years, like they were already old entangled souls. She found easy conversation with Twilight, she found it easy to gossip and spill her worries and woes, however overdramatic she was being, with her.
She supposed it was the first time she’d offered to make Twilight a dress when she’d really fallen in love with her, though she hadn’t realized it yet. That- interesting-looking- frumpy little frock Twilight had so carefully placed on her desk, and that moment she’d meekly asked for her to fix the button, that moment had struck a chord within her and before she’d known it she’d already offered to make Twilight a new dress.
From then on it was like music was forever playing in Rarity’s heart when Twilight was around, begging her to go on with the dance that had become their friendship, easy, sweet, and now with a hint of something new on the horizon, like the words had yet to be sung, and the song was far from over.
But a sort of pause had come, a bump in the road and nothing more, Rarity assured herself, but a bump nonetheless. Make no mistake, she was very happy for her friend, but her being a newfound royal complicated things. Twilight had changed lately. She was more distant, and distracted; she fled the cafe one morning before they’d even gotten to eat, and right in the middle of some juicy gossip nonetheless. Rarity dared not ask why, the alicorn seemed stressed enough as it was by the whole affair, perhaps embarrassed by catching the coffee that almost spilled? Rarity hadn’t the foggiest idea why she would be, but the look on her face was certainly striking once that had happened. A blush dusting her lavender cheeks, her eyes wide with shock, she was a sight to behold, although that was always true of her. Perhaps it was what the waitress said? It didn’t matter. Rarity shan’t torment her with the details of it again.
At least they’d be meeting again soon to swap some books and candles; after Twilight was properly introduced to society as Princess Twilight Sparkle of course.
Golden light shone through the stained glass windows of the throne room, reflecting and refracting myriads of other colors, a magical glow from the magic barrier keeping Twilight trapped. She hovered above the ponies on the ground, her horn still alight with dark magic. Rarity stared up at her, if she hadn’t known any better, if the situation wasn’t so dire, she’d almost say Twilight looked ethereal, intimidating.
But now wasn’t the time nor place.
“Twilight! Don’t do this!” Applejack tackled Rarity out of the way as debris crumbled, a blast of magic hit the ceiling, and the large chunks scattered the ponies.
“You okay, sugarcube?” She looked over at Rarity, a foreleg still around the mare’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Rarity pushed her hoof away, standing up.
“Twilight! You have to stop!” Fluttershy shouted, quietly, flying up to meet the mare.
“This is not a very healthy way of expressing your emotions!” Pinkie Pie screeched out, each of the words coming in quick succession.
“Twilight!” Spike shouted, cupping his claws over his mouth, “Please come down!”
Rainbow Dash helped Celestia up, hovering around her and then shouting up at Twilight.
“Twilight, what the hell are you doing?!”
“LET. ME. GO!” Twilight shouted, wailed, voice crackling under the weight of the words, another blast of magic hit another wall, and the group scattered once more, narrowly avoiding falling debris, squinting at the harsh light of the magical blast.
“Twilight, darling we know you’re upset!” Rarity practically had to gallop to follow the mare around the room as she frantically searched for an exit, “Please! Talk to us! We can help!”
“No, you can’t!” Twilight shouted back, growing increasingly more frantic, the room continued to crumble, bit by bit, but the barrier remained.
“If we don’t know what’s wrong then yeah,” Pinkie responded, “Of course we can’t!”
“Twilight, you can talk to us about anything!” Fluttershy continued to follow the mare, from a safe distance of course, and Rainbow Dash zipped up to join her, getting closer to Twilight.
“Twi! Just spit it out! Whatever it is, we've got your back!” She joined in.
“Shut up! Just shut up !” Twilight clutched her head, pausing her destruction for a moment. The room was quiet, Rarity glanced over at Spike, giving him a gesture.
“Twilight,” Spike sobbed, rushing to where she was, looking up at her from the ground, “I wanna go home. Please,” He called up to her, and Twilight looked down at him, a sudden softness painting her expression.
“Wh-what?” She stared.
Rarity nodded up at Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, who took the opportunity to surround Twilight, putting a hoof on either side and gently lowering her bit by bit while she was distracted.
“You said I couldn’t come home because you didn’t want me anymore,” Twilight blinked at this, half-remembering.
“I did?” She frowned, and furrowed her brow, “You’re lying. You’re just-” She looked around, realizing she was now back on the ground, “You’re trying to trick me!” She opened her wings and Rarity quickly rushed up to her, putting her forelegs around the mare.
“Darling, please, listen,” She held onto the mare tight, trying to be a grounding force, “We’re not trying to hurt you. We’re trying to help you.”
“How? By trapping me here?”
“We need you to talk to us. Before it’s too late. Before you do something drastic that makes us have to banish you or- or trap you in stone,” Rarity stared into her eyes, clinging onto the flicker of emotion she’d seen earlier, when she’d acknowledged Spike.
“What?” Twilight balked, blinking confused, “I- But I’m not- I’m not hurting anypony!” She argued.
“Seriously Twi?” Rainbow Dash gestured at the room, “You tried to crush us with big rocks. I’d say you’re at least trying to hurt somepony.”
Twilight looked around the room at the destruction, suddenly breaking away from Rarity’s grasp.
“I didn’t- I’m just- I just wanna leave,” She reasoned, staring at her hooves and realizing there was darkness coating their edges, she backed into a wall, “Oh no. No- no-”
“Twilight, take a deep breath,” Fluttershy calmed the mare, placing a reassuring hoof onto her shoulder.
“I can’t- I can’t-” Tears welled up in her eyes, pouring out and spilling over, chasing her words like fire on oil, “I’m- I’m a monster!” She sobbed, “I’m not- I’m not even myself anymore.”
“That’s not true,” Fluttershy reassured, and Rarity concurred.
“You’re still our Twilight,” She sat in front of Twilight, placing a hoof on her other shoulder.
“No, I’m not!” Twilight choked, “I’m not! I’m- I’m- I’m a princess now! I’m an alicorn! I’m not- i’m not even- your friend anymore,” She stumbled over her words, holding her hooves in front of her eyes to catch the falling tears.
“Whatever do you mean, darling?”
“Yeah, Twilight, what are you talking about, silly?” Pinkie Pie chimed in, “Of course, you’re our friend!”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t do this for just anypony, you know?” Rainbow Dash affirmed.
“Why? Everything has changed, I’m different now- and- and-”
“Darling, just because you’ve changed doesn’t mean our feelings towards you have changed,” Rarity tilted her chin up gently, meeting her eyes.
“But- but you’re going to die!” She choked out.
“Going to die? What- what do you mean?” Rarity balked, suddenly removing her hoof in shock.
“You- you’re all- you’re all going to die. Luna- Celestia- they’ve been alive thousands of years. Alicorns live thousands of years! You- you won’t live that long- and- and- I’m- I’m going to be all alone,” Twilight choked out another sob, and nopony quite knew what to say. What words of comfort could be offered?
“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Celestia sat nearby, “I’m so sorry,” Her voice was soft with guilt, shame, pain, familiar pain.
“Why?” Twilight bit back another sob, trying her best to sound enraged, “Why did you do this to me?! Condemn me to a life without my friends! And not even tell me why! Not even guide me through it!” She stood, brushing past her friends to stand in front of her mentor, pointing an accusatory hoof at her, “You’re supposed to be my teacher!”
“I-...I can’t-” Celestia sighed, gathering her words, “I couldn’t help it Twilight. I know I may seem all-powerful, but I did not turn you into an alicorn. I don’t know what causes it, I only foresaw it taking place,” Celestia shook her head, “I’m sorry. I know- I’ve kept things from you to try to lessen your suffering but I’ve only managed to increase it. I foresaw that sharing details with you would upset you. But I can see now that secrecy has only caused you pain.”
“I am sorry as well, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna joined in, “You were suffering greatly without guidance. I should have offered it to you, I should have been a comfort to you, not another frustrating encounter.”
“I- you didn’t- do it?” Twilight stepped back, “You- you can’t change me back then…” Her voice softened, “You can’t make me a unicorn again? You can’t- fix it? They- they’re all going to die….” Celestia nodded.
“I’m so sorry, Twilight.”
“What’s the point then,” She sat down, melancholy overtaking her rage, numbness consuming her body, “What’s the point if- if I’ll know everything that’s going to happen? What’s the point of me being the princess of friendship, if all of my friends are going to die without me?”
“Twilight,” She lowered her head, staring at her darkened hooves, “Darling, look at me, please.” Twilight reluctantly obeyed.
“Remember the novels we swapped? Our favorite books?” Twilight nodded sadly, looking into Rarity’s eyes and trying to find some kind of reprieve in them, “You and I both know the ending of those, don’t we? Knowing you, you probably know each and every single word of yours,” Twilight chuckled softly, gloomily.
“Are they no longer worth reading?” Rarity asked, and Twilight shook her head as if the very thought was ridiculous.
“Of course not, they-..oh…”
“You still love the stories all the same, whether you know the ending or not, whether you know each and every word by heart or not,” Rarity affirmed.
“And our candles. We both love candles, do we not?” Twilight nodded, “Once the candle burns out, do you throw the lighter out with it?” She furrowed her brow and shook her head “Is the lighter useless? Is the candlelight, the smell, not worth the inevitable ending?” The alicorn continued to shake her head.
“Yes, the lighter may burn longer, the candle wick holds its flame only a short time, but neither are any less meaningful for it,” Rarity placed each of her hooves on either of Twilight’s shoulders.
“But- I don’t want you to die,” Twilight sniffled, tears once again flowing freely down her cheeks, and as Rarity wiped them away, a confession freed itself from her lips, “I love you, Rarity. I- I wanted to tell you- to- before- but I-I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to live without you.”
“Oh darling,” Rarity’s voice was easy heat, a comforting glow of warmth, “ I know. ”
Twilight held her tighter, buried her face in Rarity’s fur, sobbing freely in her soft, warm, citrus-scented fur, the confession making its way past her lips again and again like a lighters flick flick flick- desperate for fire- fire- fire-
“I love you too,” Rarity whispered. Fire .
Many, many years later, upon a soft bed, laden with all the comforts a princess and her princess-consort were afforded, the time came. Twilight had foreseen it, rushed from her meetings, muttered half-hearted apologies, and climbed into the bed with her wife, carefully, and somehow recklessly at the same time, clutching her like the dying embers of her home.
She held her close, and whispered many comforts and sweet nothings long into the late hours of the night, feeling the flame dying the colder and colder she grew. Hoping, as she watched, the time would pass by slower, or not at all. Hoping the wings she clutched around her, the blankets, the fireplace would keep the warmth alive a little longer.
“Twilight dear,” The words from her vision haunted, pierced, but staring down at Rarity, Twilight forced herself to smile. Just a little longer.
“Yes, starlight?” She pressed her muzzle into her wife’s, closing her eyes to take in her scent once more, aged, but still citrus- still sweet- still Rarity.
“I think it’s time,” She smiled, pressing her head back into Twilight’s muzzle and breathing her in.
“Please,” Twilight begged, futilely, “Just a little longer?”
“Oh dear, it’s not forever, Twilight,” Rarity chuckled, as she often did when Twilight was being ridiculous and Twilight took in the sound, committing it to memory. She opened her eyes to gaze into Rarity’s, that glint of amusement, of fire, still present in the mare’s eyes.
“Yeah?” She hoped to be wrong for once.
“Just until we meet again,” Rarity nodded, so sure.
“And when will that be?” Twilight cloaked her sadness in a smile.
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Rarity smiled back, sadly.
“I see,” Twilight nodded, foolish hope gone, replaced with reluctant acceptance. Because she had so little time left, and begging, pleading, sobbing, wouldn’t make her stay. It would only waste it.
“But, I do know where,” She pointed at the window, up at the skyline, dawn still hidden beneath the night sky, stars still clinging to the inky black.
“The stars?” Twilight asked, glancing up at the constellations. She felt the urge to point them out, to name them all like she had done with Rarity so many times before, cuddled up in this very same position, in this very same bed. But she stifled it. There wasn’t enough time.
“Precisely. And then, we shall never part again, I swear it,” She placed a hoof over her heart, crossing it weakly, and Twilight lowered her head once more, nuzzling into her, taking in her scent one last time.
“I look forward to it,” Twilight tried to force another smile, but it did not come.
“Dear,” Rarity placed a hoof on her cheek, “Now you must promise me something, hm?”
“Anything.”
“Burn long, and burn brightly, my love,” Rarity smiled into Twilight’s coat, pressing her face into the mare and leaving a parting kiss right beneath her chin.
Death came as dawn did, as tears did. Quiet, and cold, and far too soon.
“I promise,” She said, over and over, long after the cold pale mare in her hooves could no longer hear her, long after the day melted into night, long after the mare was taken from her hooves and she clutched the pillows, the blankets, sobbing into her scent.
She promised.