Work Text:
“Hey, do you think Rarity would notice if I loosened the uh – waist tie thingy right here? I get that it.. ‘helps with the color contrast’ and all, but I think being able to breathe tonight should be my bigger priority..” Twilight fiddles with her garments like it’ll make any difference for what’s probably the millionth time, and Starlight doesn’t understand why she doesn’t just ask Rarity instead. Like, what problem does she anticipate tonight? She’s actually friends with these ponies. “Starlight? Is this alright? I don’t think it looks different, but –”
“How am I supposed to know?” The smaller mare shrugs, stationed impatiently and looking uninspired under the gentle luminescent glow of Twilight’s bedroom. “This isn’t your anniversary party. If I were to guess, everypony will just go ‘Hey, Twilight’s here!’ the second you step in, so — my assessment? You should be just fine.” Starlight smiles insincerely, tugging at the laces running down her dress in an attempt to keep grounded. Twilight has the luxury of only worrying about trivial matters – how her dress fits, how many Apple family delicacies she’ll need to account for, how closely she can monitor Applejack’s own hangups about hosting such an important event. These little details taunt her incessantly, and Starlight can’t help but chuckle at just how easy Twilight has it. For these to be her biggest problems of the week. She will be with her best friends tonight, that just barely brushes the surface.
What worries Starlight isn’t the attitude Twilight will be bringing with her. Rather, the dead weight she’s drawing in. The liability nopony asked for, the only attendee who has not once set foot on Sweet Apple Acres. It does not evade Starlight Glimmer that the only pony to cordially invite her is Twilight herself. She’s gone on and on about it, how exciting and new it’ll be, and most importantly, how massive of a milestone it’ll be for Starlight. Headmaster Starlight. Starlight, who is already established in her career, and still terrified of speaking to her own colleagues. “Yeah, but this is Rarity we’re talking about here! I know Applejack will have a heart attack if anything goes even a quarter of a mile south. I’ve done coronations, but usually they’re thrown for ME. I have no say in the planning. Do you see what’s scary about that, Starlight? Hey?”
Twilight’s gaze moves to Starlight’s magical aura, which dances frantically around the laces running down her belly. As roommates, Starlight knows when Twilight knows, and Twilight can be perceptive when the situation calls for it. The taller mare squinches her snout and counteracts Starlight’s magic with her own, forcing her magic back into its source and prompting her eyes to meet Twilight’s. “Hey, am I just talking to myself here? You can air some of your own grievances too!” Twilight pleads with her eyes, and Starlight’s cynicism isn’t enough for her to not fall for it.
“...I just don’t think tonight’ll go well. That’s all, if you really want my final say on the decision. So I’m not actually trying.” Starlight spits out in hopes that it’ll just break Twilight’s spirit. She cannot humor the idea of breaking the ice with the Apples, absolutely not, this plan is undeniably dreadful. Starlight can’t remember the last time she’s felt this way.. maybe since her reunion with Sunburst. She bites her tongue, looks to another wall, and braces herself for the incoming Twilight interrogation.
“Ugh, Starlight, the party’s in an hour! You’re still hung up on that?” And, as is perfectly on-brand for Twilight, she knows exactly what Starlight is referring to. It can get real annoying, being so easily read. Sweet, but annoying. “I told you already, Headmare Starlight can have friendship lessons too. I’m still learning, as are you. And I’m the Princess of Friendship!” Twilight bunts her horn against Starlight’s, further reinforcing their similarities. Starlight still struggles to see her point, but allows a halfhearted smile to land on her face. She hopes it offers enough solace for Twilight to stop asking questions for the next hour. “...I guess it’s just my instinct to find it, well, demeaning. I mean, another friendship lesson? Now that’s a throwback, surely you can see the humor in it.”
“Hey, I mean, the fact that you’re so scared of it is all the more reason you need a resolution, right? Clearly this is bugging you too. Not just me!”
And boy, is it. Starlight is more-or-less an extension of Twilight now, and somehow, she’s been painted as a pseudo member of Twilight’s friend group. She gets to see the Elements on a daily basis. She is running their school. Once in a while, the situation calls for visiting Pinkie. Sometimes, it calls for visiting Applejack. Starlight has yet to do any of these. At least not since Sugar Belle moved into Ponyville.
“That’s.. true I guess.” Starlight is not effectively convinced. It goes without saying that Applejack hates her guts, for reasons she feels should be obvious. Applejack doesn’t say it, but Starlight knows. Element of honesty or not, Starlight knows, and Twilight is the whole reason she chooses not to be honest in this regard. Twilight doesn’t know, but soon enough, she’ll be able to see it herself. “This one is just.. a lot harder. But.. I’ll choose to trust you, I guess. You do always make it work.”
“I’m positive it’ll be fine. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders these days, Starlight.” As Twilight approaches the door and the gap between them grows, she makes her final point by magically drawing Starlight closer. “I was right about you the first time. When was the last time I was wrong?”
Starlight actually stops to think. Well, she and Sunburst are glaringly silent when they sit side-by-side filling out paperwork, for one. And that might not’ve even been the last time Twilight was wrong.
Starlight plays along anyways. “Yeah… yeah, okay. We’ll be fine. Let’s just head out.”
—
“Whoaaa, watch out everypony! Princess Twilight is here!” The inevitable boom of Pinkie’s infamous airhorns take the whole party by surprise. Twilight side-eyes Starlight, and the latter laughs. Upon entrance, she cast her two predictions. One, that Twilight’s outfit would go unaddressed. Two, that Pinkie would be the first to greet her. Starlight’s on a roll today, maybe luck is on her side after all.
“Pinkie, this is not another coronation, haha! Quit it!” Twilight steps into the invisible spotlight, while Starlight craftily worms her way out, humiliated to be Twilight’s “plus-one”. She instead opts for studying… it. All of it, from a safe distance.
Starlight searches the room for particularly interesting spots on the floor and wall to stare at. Whenever Starlight finds herself in these formal events celebrating the Elements and their extended circle, she notes the ways in which things have changed since she first arrived in Ponyville. Way back when, Twilight’s friends lacked the purpose and aim they have today – their bonds further enriched by their experiences together. Pinkie’s always taken on the role of the party-thrower, of course, but at one point she lacked the means to implement design changes like catering. It casts a more official overtone to a group that once just hung out casually. For a fleeting moment, Starlight envisions a world where she was a part of that blossoming friendship. Alas, she has more important things to focus on right now.
The unicorn sparses out potential obstacles. Years of ponywatching and hoarding information has made this easy. The ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders’ are likely candidates, with their ruthless snark that Starlight’s begun to know well after years of working with teenagers. That concern isn’t unfounded, either — Apple Bloom is a perfectly friendly pupil, who has yet to say more than three words to Starlight. Other rumors of “putting a ring on it” and “making it totally official” trickle through the party sporadically, as well, so she’s sure to keep an ear out for unusual activity from Pinkie, Cheese, or Rainbow Dash. Applejack should be in the clear, but she’ll consider it a success if Starlight can make it out of this situation without speaking to her at all. Big Mac even more so — he hasn’t left Sugar’s side for even a second.
Blah, blah, blah, the meaningless chatter goes on. Rainbow Dash never gives Starlight the time of day, and currently she is busy bussing ponies’ trays poorly. Pinkie and Applejack seem to be stretching their attention throughout the whole party, cracking under the pressure of hosting. And, predictably, Twilight’s anxiety wasn’t totally off, Rarity’s spent the whole evening trailing behind Twilight, careful that her luxurious gown stays out of the dirty floorboards and away from other ponies’ hooves. Everypony is too busy managing each other, giving Starlight the leeway of not being managed by Twilight. Thank Celestia, because the mare has an awful lot of studying to do before she takes on this so-called lesson.
She is most careful not to lose track of Sugar Belle all night. Fortunately, Starlight has mastered the art of sneaking around corners and framing activity like she’s up to nothing of note. She lingers by the punch inconspicuously, idly swirling the ladle around the bowl with her magic. Every moment Sugar Belle’s attention is taken by a guest, Starlight takes her chance to listen in. Her responses feel scripted enough that Starlight figures she doesn’t need the context.
“...Yeah, heh, it’s my recipe, but Pinkie took a try at it! I would give her all the credit if I were you, but I really appreciate the thought..! Thanks!”
Big Mac looms around his wife protectively, hardly uttering a word, instead offering himself as the pillar Sugar needs to keep sane throughout this stressful event. Starlight can’t help but laugh at it, his role is no different from Twilight’s right now, is it? When Sugar speaks, she looks to Big Mac as if her words need approval first. Then, she continues the conversation as projected.
“No need to downplay yer hard work on yer big day, sweetheart. Nothin’ the Apples value more than sweet delicacies,” Big Mac refutes just below a murmur, only loud enough for Sugar Belle (and the obnoxiously attentive Starlight) to hear. She nods and smiles, muttering another meek ‘thank you’ to the guest standing before her — Night Glider, Starlight failed to acknowledge, which seems to add some fuel to the slow-growing nuke in the back of her mind. How poetic is that? These two ladies who coordinated a friend group just beyond Starlight’s watchful eye, a friend group that Starlight was never a part of — adding further insult to injury. Starlight’s the one stalling awkwardly in a corner, while the two of them chat casually one year after Sugar Belle’s wedding day. She exhales sharply, a sudden disturbance in her magic derailing the train of thought entirely.
”Hey, horn outta the juice if you’re not gonna drink it!” The voice of a pubescent boy cuts through the conversation, and Starlight gracelessly drops the ladle back into the punch. Spike, fitted in a dapper anniversary get-up, narrows his eyes. He pays no mind to the visibly troubled woman and scoops out a cup, instantly satisfied. “Awesome! Thanks!”
Starlight shows an affirmative grin. “My bad. I’m not thirsty anymore.”
Now she’s fresh out of alibis, which grounds her back into the present. Suddenly then, it feels like every pair of eyes in the room has landed on her… or maybe they already were, she was too distracted to say.
….Alright. Where’s Twilight? Cause the clock’s ticking, and an Applejack speech may be in the cards. Once Starlight finally locates the purple mare, it becomes clear a cue has been planted, as the alicorn successfully separated the groom from the bride.
Sugar Belle, alone. Starlight Glimmer, fresh out of excuses. Twilight Sparkle, winking at the other in an obnoxiously unsubtle way. Starlight hangs her head and looks away.
Make it quick. Maybe five minutes, tops. If anypony intercepts, the consequences will be dire. These aren’t ideal circumstances – there’s too many variables at play to gain full control – but it’s the luck Starlight’s left with, and she’ll hang onto that shred of luck for dear life. The twinge of disappointing Twilight is too unmanageable to ever bear again. It’s now or never.
She notes Sugar shaking like a leaf, the disposition of a child whose been left behind in a grocery store, awaiting the end of her grown-up’s conversation so she can just go home. Fascinating, that’s how Starlight looks when Twilight’s not around, too.
“Congratulations, Sugar Belle.”
To Starlight, the choir of conversations blanketing the two quieted to a faint hum. An alarm bell in her head replaces it. It rings obsessively, uncontrollably, and she brushes it off for Twilight’s sake. For her own sake. By extension, maybe Sugar’s. Closure was met with Sunburst, maybe the same can happen with Sugar. Even if Sugar’s eyes just widened at Starlight’s presence. Even if she curled into a pose covering her most vulnerable part – her cutie mark – at the sound of Starlight’s voice. Starlight noticed. It’s apparent.
“...Thank you.” A pensive pause accompanied that response, one Starlight will surely fixate on for the rest of the night. She figures this was enough hospitality for the evening, but Twilight is stretching her head over the crowd of happy ponies with poignant purpose in her eyes, hoping Starlight receives the message. The two mares have a lot of differences, but a lot of commonalities as well. Twilight’s body language when she’s yearning for closure isn’t too different from Starlight’s. They are both productive, intelligent, and perfectionist do-gooders. Which means, yes – keep the conversation going, and end it on a positive note. Not just a neutral one.
How did responses used to come so naturally? How does small-talk work anymore? What are Sugar’s likes? Dislikes? How did she forget all of this so quickly, having spent so much time with the unicorn? Starlight tries to tap into her old pseudo-persona’s expertise, the leader who always had the questions and the answers, and could deliver them with utmost confidence. That’s the version Sugar’s most familiar with. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Twilight’s stupid, giddy smile from across the room is jumbling Starlight’s mental trajectory, and it’s enough to pry her mouth open.
“How… are things?”
Oh my Celestia, Starlight’s rusty.
“Um. Good.” The generally polite pony is surprisingly impolite, sneaking a pleading look at Big Mac every chance she gets. Something deep in Starlight’s conscience wants to force Sugar’s eyes on her, but she resists the temptation.
“You’re still working at.. Sugarcube Corner, yes?” A mutually beneficial topic – employment. Starlight centers her life around work, anyhow. It’s easy. “It was kind of Pinkie Pie to offer a helping hoof. How are they treating you?”
“They treat me well.” Sugar states with little emotion, a superficial sweetness, “I enjoy getting to bake everyday. I’m grateful for everything the Cakes have done for me,” her smile falters, and Starlight leans in without intention. Sugar Belle inches back.
It’s weird. They spent over a decade in the same residence, and yet Starlight and Sugar rarely got to.. talk, like this. It’s nice. Like getting a whiff of the warm cookies before the dessert is served. Maybe, it’s possible, they could rebuild the corroded relationship. Starlight knows more now, maybe there is still time to save her soul.
“I know right? I’m not sure where I’d be now if Twilight didn’t scoop me up and offer me this sweet deal!” Starlight connects two-and-two with delight in her voice, which Sugar Belle fails to return.
“That’s nice.”
Sugar takes another step back, breath uneasy.
And the bugle sounds in Starlight’s mind.
She closes the distance with unintended force – “...Okay, I’m sorry–”
Applejack’s powerful trot cuts through the apology, and she knows punishment will follow. One plan, already foiled, she will have to speak to Applejack now. The Element of Honesty. The pony who never fails to speak her mind. Applejack, who heckles her in group settings. Applejack, who keeps the peace regardless, but she sure as hay embodies Honesty – and never, for a second, has she tricked Starlight into believing she’s welcome in the group. The ever-gullible Twilight is the one who believes otherwise.
“Hey, sweetheart. How ‘bout we get movin’ to the next –”
Applejack places a protective hoof on Sugar’s back, and the carefully crafted interaction crumbles in an instant. A sound rings out that Starlight hasn’t heard since the equalization process.
Sugar Belle lets out an agonized yelp.
A horrible silence envelopes the crowd. People might’ve moved, jumped to the lady’s rescue, but Starlight wouldn’t know. One second they were there, the next moment Sugar was escorted away, and Starlight feels a weight in her chest and hopes the magnetic pull will collapse her into the deepest pits of Tartarus. Come on Celestia, somepony please. Just end her suffering here, once and for all, and everypony please, stop looking at her. Her throat burns. Her face is drenched in sweat and shame, all of her shortcomings humiliatingly evident.
On one end of the room, Twilight pleads quietly, wordlessly, to the other – ‘Do you need help?’
On the other end of the room, for a regretful second, Starlight meets eyes with Applejack.
And this scathing look might be the most honest she’s ever been.
Twilight finally ushers over, too little too late. Starlight has already exited the premises, mentally. She ruined it. She never should’ve accepted the offer. This was stupid. Why did Twilight do this? Why would she do it to HER of all ponies. Apologies pour out, maybe with little cohesion – She’ll never step hoof on Sweet Apple Acres again, and Twilight attempts to diffuse that. Applejack is understanding, no. Sugar Belle is just stressed about the party, no. Starlight cannot hear her. Instead, she just says… This was my second friend.
This really hurts, Twilight.
—
It hurts, to not have friends to call her own.
She made friends. They haven’t left. They never will. So why, why in Equestria, does Starlight still feel empty?
Every day with the pleasantries. The formalities, the minimalist exchanges, the silence, the brown soil, the repeating records. The murkiness of no real food. The peace of a life not lived. This would be perfect, had anypony actually cared. They follow instructions to the fullest, that part is easy. But they don’t actually care why. Her friends say hello, and they keep the gears turning in the home she calls Our Town.
They wash her sheets.
They cut her hair.
Sometimes, they make gifts by hoof. Not that they have the slightest clue what she’d want.
Very, very early on, Sugar Belle would bring her delicacies every morning. Not good ones, obviously, but she would serve Starlight without the need of a duty to fulfill. She’d just bring it because she wanted to. Because they were true friends. And now, they aren’t. Now, she doesn’t care, when that’s the only pony who ever came close to actually caring. It drives Starlight crazy, that there isn’t a spell for that. She would still be in Sire’s Hollow if there was.
Starlight idles at the end of her unfurnished bed, in the familiarly comfortable silence of her desolate bedroom. Little bits of her life are sprinkled throughout the room. Not much, but enough for her friends to truly understand her real self, whoever that is. Maybe, if they knew, she could share these vulnerabilities with friends. Maybe, she could even fly her kite again, which sits in the corner of her room, collecting dust.
It’s been drained of most of its pigment, matching the palette of the rest of Our Town.
This utopia she’s created.
Is not all its cracked up to be.
By no fault of Starlight’s. There must be something else missing. She sets herself out to the plaza, and gathers every grain of humanity from the crevices of her mind, tunneling it into these very few words – “Rise and shine, everypony! Breakfast will be served in about an hour. That should be plenty of time to get in your Sunday best.”
The joke is that their “Sunday best” is the same every day. It’s a cruel joke nopony has laughed at in years.
The plaza no longer serves its original purpose as the ‘common area’. Now that everypony is older, it’s almost like they’ve… outgrown her. They mingle with one another, and she desperately aches to know what they discuss. The moment she joins the conversation, the air shifts.
‘Good morning, Starlight Glimmer. How are you, Starlight Glimmer?’
It’s the same thing.
Every.
Day.
What, pray tell, is wrong with these ponies?
She doesn’t say anything. They continue talking, and she watches. They turn to her and smile. Her mouth stays shut, smile hurting from the brute force. She hasn’t said much of anything in years, outside of announcements. Finally, she feels it.
It’s dull.
Empty.
She tries something new. She needs something new. She needs companionship. Somepony to talk to. She –
“Good morning, Sugar Belle.” Sugar Belle's head whips around at the sound of her voice, a movement so sudden the whole platter of muffins nearly plummet to the ground.
Rest assured, Starlight’s vigilance saves the meal. As quickly as Sugar Belle processes Starlight’s presence, the platter is already on the table, with a perfectly lined up assembly of muffins. One unicorn with magic is all they need.
“Good morning, Starlight Glimmer!” she responds absently, eyes resting on the rescued platter of breakfast. She looks confused.
“You should be more careful!” Starlight’s tone is deceptively cheery. Had she been the other pony, she wouldn’t believe the delivery for a second. Hopefully, Sugar Belle buys it. “And – why be a stranger? You know that you can call me Starlight. We’re friends, are we not?”
Sugar Belle sucks it up. If she’s shaken up, she’s certainly locking it away from Starlight. The unbreakable barrier between them is undeniable. “Right, I’m sorry.. Starlight.” She nods, reeling herself back into the conversation with a quick breath. “It’s a pleasure seeing you. I need to finish making breakfast… which I suppose I will see you then, anyways.”
Starlight exhales sharply through her nose, closing the gap between she and the other mare. She speaks before she knows what to say – “Can I come in?”
Sugar Belle smiles weakly. “...Did I do something wrong?”
“Not at ALL! We’re all happy that you bake for us every morning. As they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, yes?” Starlight nudges the other, who is clearly struggling to match Starlight’s level of perk. Time will tell how long Starlight can string together the remnants of her own fractured personality. Unsure if words make sense, or if this is how she and Sugar Belle once spoke to one another.
“Y.. yes. That’s why I.. make so much of it everyday.” Sugar smiles with her mouth, but nothing else, and props open the door for the disheveled unicorn. Starlight steps through, thrilled to see different wallpaper. Smell different smells. Only mere feet away from her own doorstep, and it’s been years since she’s paid Sugar Belle a visit.
…It’s just as boring as everything else, despite that.
“...So, do you need something?”
“No!” Starlight lies. There is no way to believably state what she needs. “I am just.. behind on maintenance. I need to do some.. work.” She winces. Her least believable lie yet. She is tasked with nothing, especially not maintenance.
“...Oh.. right.”
Starlight is relieved that Sugar Belle somehow bought it. “I’ll.. keep baking, if this is okay.”
“What else are you here for? Aha!”
Sugar’s expression doesn’t change. She blinks and turns around, swiftly getting back to work.
Now, cue ‘maintenance’. Starlight pokes at a shelf on the wall and meanders through all its contents, magically. China, cutlery, cookbooks, anything of the culinary variety. Starlight notes some are visibly untouched, some not as much. She doesn’t know much about Sugar Belle these days, but she knows these to be the remnants of her old life. The floral print on the cutlery has faded over time, a similar fate to Starlight’s own possessions. She glances back at Sugar Belle every once in a while. Carefully dodging her peripheral vision.
Another glance.
Searching. Glancing. Keep looking, and another glance. Not too unlike a predator observing its prey.
“...You’re quiet.” Starlight presses a hoof to her mouth contemplatively, and approaches the working woman. “Does it help you focus?”
“...Yes.” Sugar Belle recites on command.
“My friend, I believe your mane is falling out of your bun.”
“I’m sorry–!” Sugar Belle squeaks, breaking the tension hanging in the air. She desperately works at the mane with just her hooves.
“No, allow me.” Starlight steps forward, and Sugar Belle clumsily plants her bottom on the ground, like a bell rang quietly in her head. She follows suit.
Rarely, Starlight takes her time. She’s stripped away cutie marks, and magic from dozens of ponies in an instant – if she really wanted, she could down the whole village with a single spell. For once, she takes her time with the lady’s mane, carefully maneuvering each strand.. forcefully pinning curls into needles, masking dead ends.
And there are so, so many dead ends. A cruel reminder that the past decade has aged Sugar Belle.
It’s been many moons since Starlight’s been this close to another pony. There’s an unordinary tenderness coursing through her body, one she’s not felt since Sire’s Hollow. It buzzes against her forehead, at the base of her horn, waiting to be set free. She shifts positions in hopes of calming her nervous system, and centers her focus – enough blunders for today, she can’t let her magic slip in front of Sugar Belle of all ponies.
Sugar was the first pony Starlight willingly spoke to outside of her family, since it happened. They were in a similar place – young, lost, confused, searching for a purpose, and cursing how poorly the first eighteen years of their lives went. Sugar was given an escape, and slowly they built upon a curated world nopony could interfere with. A world that works with them, not against them. Untarnished by the wicked footprints called individuality, finally they get to start from scratch, and explore their true destiny. Without the hindrance of fate. Where they never got their cutie marks. No false promises made, no tricks, no pranks. Nopony can guide Starlight into a tunnel without the means to escape. With Starlight bearing the light at the end, Sugar Belle will surely always follow that light.
A flawless plan that claimed a society of fools. Yet Starlight feels like the biggest fool of all. Sure, she is important by title, but the light from her eyes has left. She’s different. It makes her heart ache. She doesn’t know how, exactly, but she is different. This type of unexplainable pain, too, cannot be cast away with a spell.
“This is weird. Your mane won’t appear to stay in shape.” It’s true, strands keep slipping out of the bun, lacking the friction and volume necessary to stay in shape. Instead, it just frizzes out of the hairtie. “Your mane used to be beautiful. What did you do to it?” At this point, Starlight is no longer fixing it, merely plucking at it obsessively.
“Wh…” Sugar doesn’t move to face her, but Starlight sees her shoulders tense. She mumbles indecipherably.
“Speak up.” Starlight looms over the taller mare, who has now sunk her head so low she can practically stand over her.
“...You, wanted it like this, I thought.” She carefully tiptoes around her wording. Starlight fishes for the hidden message. “I.. can change it. But, never without asking.”
“Why can’t you look at me when you talk?” Another step forward, and Starlight feels the heat between their bodies.
A squeak escapes the woman’s throat. She resets her posture, stumbling back into place. There, the eye contact Starlight requested. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Sugar, I simply wanted to speak with you, mare-to-mare. Remember when we used to do that..?” Starlight steps back, biting her tongue. Her eyes sting. “Right..? You were different, what changed?”
“I.. I don’t–” Sugar Belle’s eyes keep dropping to the floor, but Starlight’s magnetic gaze keeps pulling it back. “I don’t know. I don’t think anything changed. Maybe something did, I can’t tell. I’m scared, I might not be finished with breakfast in time.”
The magic burns brighter, pounding against Starlight’s temple and daring to burst. Why, why does she care more about breakfast than Starlight? Why does she care about feeding them, anyways, so-called friends, who don’t even talk to her? It just hurts, it hurts so badly and Starlight would do anything to actually be a first choice for Sugar Belle, let alone a second. Let alone anything, to anypony, anything more than a delusional buffoon. She can’t think. Everything comes to a screeching halt. Briefly, she forgets how to play the part of Starlight Glimmer, the founder of Our Town.
“Breakfast?” A twig breaks. “I give you the luxury of having me in your house, Sugar Belle! For once I am speaking to one of you first. And you – you avoid all my questions, you don’t look at me, you don’t take care of yourself, you don’t take care of your mane!” The unicorn is shouting, mad in the eyes, gears turning wildly and scrambling her amygdala. Her eyes sting. She might be crying now. She can’t tell, everything is red, her magic runs rampant.
Sugar says nothing. She stares, and backs into the wall, pushing into a hard surface like she can break through it, but instead she’s stuck there, helpless, cornered, utterly horrified. Breath heaving, chest moving sporadically, all the things that just make Starlight feel worse. Angrier. She, too, feels like a cornered animal, but at least Sugar has ponies to confide in when she’s afraid.
“P-please don’t hurt me. Please.” Sugar Belle drops her head again, shielding all her most vulnerable parts. Her “cutie mark”, her horn. “I’m confused. Really confused. I don’t know what I did, I did everything you asked. You said I shouldn’t be good at baking. I love baking. I stopped for you.” No.
Don’t say that. Don’t say that. Starlight doesn’t gather herself, she only explodes, her head is pounding too much, it’s excruciating. Accompanied by an anguished cry, a flash of destructive magic dispels from her horn. Both mares remain unharmed, but equally afraid.
The magic just barely missed Sugar Belle, but all the muffins fell to the floor. They both tremble wordlessly.
Starlight struggles to say a thing. “I don’t. I’m sorry. I don’t think. I can finish this. We can, we can postpone.” When her magic goes haywire like this, it’s hard to put her head back on straight. She looks like she might start frothing instead. Never, has she ever looked this helpless in front of Sugar Belle, or anypony in this stupid town. What a horrible display of everything Starlight hoped to keep tucked away. She wanted Sugar Belle to look for it on her own.
“St. Starlight.” Sugar finally speaks, with more clarity than before, and a glazed look of someone who’s about to be put on death row. “C.. correct me.. if I’m wrong, but..”
“Why..
do you have magic..
and I don’t?”
Starlight sniffles. One last raw feeling before her guard goes back up. She straightens herself out, issuing a death glare.
“If you tell anypony about anything you saw this morning. I will know.” Her eyebrows drop. “And you will be gone. Maybe miles away, with that little saddle bag you showed up with, or maybe deeper than that.
Maybe six feet deeper. You can choose.”
A deceptive smile. And Starlight Glimmer is back. Thank Celestia, nopony will ever believe Sugar Belle now.
“...Understood,” is all Sugar Belle says, but there’s a dangerous edge to her voice all of a sudden. It catches Starlight by surprise. She nearly says something, before she realizes she should stop saying things today.
“Here.” Starlight opens the door, stepping out into the plaza again.
“Everypony, listen! We will not be having breakfast today. Sugar Belle is in need of a sick day instead.. what a shame.” She closes her eyes. “So, I guess I will see you all this evening. Have an incredible morning!”