Mirror Mirror

Mirror rose before the sun. She had not slept, not really, and every part of her ached… but going back to bed would be futile. Her reality felt so surreal that a dream would have been a reprieve, had the universe deigned to allow her one. Weary in every sense of the word, she made the trek to her mirror, where she picked up a makeup brush and looked into the mirror. Her eyes flicked over each feature with increasing confusion. The features refused to resolve into a face - there was one eye, and another. A mouth. All the pieces were but it wasn’t a face. It wasn’t her face. She dropped the brush and turned away. Chores. Cleaning. She needed to clean the house. Painstakingly, Mirror made her way through each room, tidying, dusting, occasionally washing items. It was difficult to breathe. Her thoughts kept straying back to the roses which bloomed from her chest, the little leaves and thorns that were fused to her flesh. The roots which tangled together around her heart and through her lungs. It took a while, but eventually she had lost awareness of the shooting pains in her limbs and her chest. As long as she paid no attention to the way her body was fighting against itself, she could pretend she was okay. Then it happened. A searing pain tore through her side, the skin splitting open. For a long moment, she could only stare at the wound and the blood welling up, staining her pale pink fur. She gagged. Her stomach twisted. The broom fell to the floor. Something between anger and determination flooded her system. Mirror limped to the table, to the golden apple that rested on it. Standing before it, she lifted her forearm to her mouth, and with no hesitation she bit down. Her teeth pierced skin. She released the bite, watching blood pool into the indentations her teeth had left. This was it. A sort of peace settled into her. It was the same calm she had felt at the moment she had surrendered her life, a calm of knowing that whatever happened next didn’t matter. She was giving up. Mirror snatched the golden apple, staring into its shiny surface with a hardened glare. To herself, she muttered. “If what we had was love, I don’t want it.” She bit into the apple. Her skin began to tingle. The sensation spread to her muscles and then settled into her bones. Feeling suddenly more weak and helpless than she ever had, the unicorn collapsed to the ground, her vision pulsing. Oh. Something was wrong. She wondered, vaguely, if she was going to die here. Well, why not? She had wasted her life, anyway, with nothing and no one to show for everything she had done and seen. It made sense that she would die alone on a cold floor. But… she was not ready to die. The apple hit the wall with a quiet thud. Had she dropped it? She must have. When Mirror came to, she had no idea how long it had been. Opening her eyes made a curtain of dust fall in. She wiped at her eyes with her hooves, and once they were clear, she realized something. Something big. Nothing hurt. She felt fine. Her legs were fine, her side no longer stung… She could breathe. Mirror clambered to her hooves, wavering only briefly when the blood rushed out of her head. She stretched then made a beeline for the door. It was dark out, but when she looked up, Mirror felt a strange certainty that it was daytime. Branches stretched and tangled together where none had been before. All around were spiky plants, parting only slightly in a couple spots where paths had once laid. She went to one and the shrubbery parted - the forest still recognized her. So why could she not recognize the forest?

At first, Mirror hardly noticed the frequency of Faith’s trips into town. She herself was rather indisposed, and so it only made sense that Faith would go instead for food and other necessities. When she did notice it, well - it was easier to pretend she hadn’t. If she had failed to notice these trips, she had no cause to wonder at the reason behind them, and no cause to look over her shoulder in fear of what Faith might be planning. Her mind seemed unable to lay the issue at rest. Despite her best efforts, the knowledge tugged at the corners of her mind, whispered in her ears… “Faith?” “Yes, my Mirror?” Faith glanced up from her desk, surprised to see Mirror standing at the bottom of the staircase. She seemed pale and drawn, but there was a glint of determination in her eyes. “I… um, I ran out of yarn. I was-” “Write down what colours you want, dear. I can go into town later today,” the pegasus cut Mirror off mid-sentence. Mirror’s expression crinkled. She took a step forward, shaking her head. “Loose Thread changes his inventory often. It would be simplest if I went myself; he may not even still carry what I have in mind, now. I think I’m alright to make the trip, so…” Faith turned her head sharply, frowning. “Oh. I see.” Mirror broke eye contact. She looked down at the floor, feeling like a small child that has done something wrong. Neither said a word for a long moment. Then, scuffing at a spot on the hardwood floor with her hoof, Mirror broke the silence. “I had… better get going, then. Before it gets too much later. I’ll be back in a few days, I suppose.” She didn’t look at Faith, although she could feel the pegasus’ eyes on her all the while as she walked to the door, took down her white cloak, and lifted her wicker basket. Opening the door a crack, she hesitated for a moment. Daring one glance at Faith, their eyes met, and Mirror looked away again. Without another word from either, the unicorn stepped out the door. The journey into town took her the rest of the day and the night, all injuries considered, and she rested awhile in a tavern before she made her way to the shop. There, she purchased four bundles of yarn in varying colours and widths. It was a pleasant distraction to look through the soft, colourful shop, which smelled like a warm library and cinnamon. She left it with a smile on her face. Back to the tavern. Mirror started on a sketch for the cloak she wanted to make. It would be her biggest project yet, but she was more excited than daunted by the prospect. All in all, the trip left her feeling rejuvenated and lighthearted. She made her way back to the Wandering Woods faster than she had anticipated. Standing outside the door of her cottage, Mirror raised her hoof to open the door- and then she stopped, a cold horror seizing her heart. Silently, she placed her hoof back down and listened. “Rose, I know you’re having trouble getting her to cooperate, but if something doesn’t happen soon… Jonquil’s gonna run out of what little patience she’s got. Don’t you realize what that means?” “I know, I know… I just need a little longer. She went into town a couple days ago - when she comes back, she’ll be tired. I’ll pressure her into agreeing while she’s too tired to keep her guard up, yeah? Just a couple more days. Wait in town, and I’ll come meet you when it’s done. For now, let’s just enjoy the time we have without worrying about Mirror.” The first speaker sighed. “You’re right. It’s nice to have some time alone again… I guess I’m just impatient ‘cause I want you to come live in the castle again. I’m not supposed to tell you, but Jonquil’s had a room prepared for you. She really thinks you’re gonna succeed… And so do I.” “Really?” Faith spoke with such joy and hope in her voice. Mirror’s ears were flat against her head now, and she took one step backwards, then another. “Really! And get this,” The stranger spoke again. “Your room is right next to my regular station.” “You know… I was really nervous about this, before. About turning in Mirror, I mean. She’s been so loyal this whole time. Well, loyal’s the wrong word, I think. She’s been You’ve helped me realize that I’m just doing what needs to be done. Thank you, Rivet.” Mirror didn’t hear the next words spoken by the stranger. She turned and bolted into the woods, blood pounding in her ears, tears pricking at her eyes. Hours passed by in a daze. She didn’t want to think, so she didn’t, just laying in a patch of grass and waiting. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that Mirror rose once again, setting back toward the cottage with a heavy heart. Stupid. Could she really argue with that? Here she was, going right back into the lion’s den after listening to it talk about devouring her. Mirror was under no illusions that Faith still loved her. She opened the door and walked in, resisting the urge to glance at Faith as she removed her cloak and hung it on the wall with the others. Turning, she made a beeline for the stairs, wicker basket levitated ahead of her. “Mirror?” The unicorn froze mid step. “What, you’re not even going to say hi? Come on, you’ve been gone three days. Let’s have tea?” Faith stood and began to cross the room. Each step heightened a growing sense of claustrophobia, until Mirror felt certain that she would be met with a knife through the ribs if she didn’t turn around right then. Except… when she did turn, when she looked at Faith, it was… just Faith. No looming monster or cackling villain. A pegasus, shorter than Mirror, pale white fur and a dark mane, face crinkled in apparent concern. A monster would have given her greater comfort. “Faith. I apologize, I am quite tired from the trip - perhaps we can catch up later. For now, I’d like to go to bed and rest.” “...Alright,” Faith frowned. It took every ounce of energy in her body to up the stairs instead of bolting like a bat out of hell. It took even more to shut the door with only a quiet click, rather than slam it. Her heart was racing now, and in the four steps it took to reach her bed, tears streaked her face. She buried it in her pillow, curling into a tight, trembling ball. She could not have said how long she lay there, weeping, but eventually she noticed that she had stopped weeping. Mirror stood, slowly, crossing the room. She felt… calm. Okay. So Faith was untrustworthy - that wasn’t new. Hardly anything had changed, really. What could she do about the situation? Friends. Mirror needed someone on her side, someone she could trust in the way that she couldn’t trust Faith. Who could she contact? A name came to mind, and her face flushed darker pink at the same moment. No, definitely not. She couldn’t put it into words, exactly, but… no. Someone else. She chewed her lip, considering this option for just a little longer, but ultimately shaking her head. There was too much to explain, and she wasn’t even certain that they were friends, anyway. It was the third idea to pop into her head that finally lead her to her writing desk. Mirror penned a brief message to Watermint, a kirin she had met a few years ago and had occasionally stayed in contact with since. The note was simple: Mirror paced her room anxiously from the moment the note was sent until the moment an answer arrived. Watermint, like many of those Mirror kept contact with, had formidable magic of her own - the reply was swift. A parchment materialized on her desk, carrying the scent of pine, and she rushed to open it. The paper wasn’t signed, but it hardly needed to be. When a brisk knock came at the door the next day, Mirror set her knitting basket under the bed and sped down the stairs, startling Faith. She opened the door with a bright smile on her face, stepping to the side. Watermint was a stocky kirin with the air of someone much taller than her. Her fur was the colour of a mossy riverbank, her wild mane dandelion yellow which faded to white at the ends. Just as her note, Watermint brought the scent of damp pine with her, stepping inside as soon as the door was open. She swept Mirror up in a tight hug. Faith shot her a stern look. A few strides brought the pegasus to her fiancée’s side, and as Mirror and the kirin separated from the embrace, Faith wrapped her wing possessively over Mirror. “Mirror, you didn’t tell me we were expecting company! Who’s this?” Her voice was a strained sort of polite. She looked up at Mirror, mustering as sweet and loving an expression as she could manage. Mirror flinched, just a little, at the contact. “Oh. Faith, this is Watermint. She helped me get ahold of an ingredient. Watermint… This is Faith.” A look of slight awe crossed Watermint’s face, and then she grinned again, reaching out and shaking Faith’s hoof quite vigorously. Her accent was Irish, when she spoke. “Faith! Ah, Mirror told me all about you! Well, she fixed you up nice, eh? It’s nothing short of a marvel. I’d never heard anything like your case.” Faith snapped her head over to look at Watermint, meeting the enthusiastic hoofshake with equal lackluster. “Charmed. Mirror’s mentioned you once or twice, although… I didn’t realize you were, well. One of ” She raised an eyebrow, expression cold. Watermint’s grin wavered for just a moment. She traded a glance with Mirror, who looked deeply uncomfortable. The unicorn took a step away from Faith, her own smile turning stale, and then ushered the kirin over to the table. Watermint took a seat. Faith sat across from her. Mirror went to the kitchen, putting on the kettle and retrieving three mugs. She prepared two cups of tea, one of coffee, as Faith and Watermint made uncomfortable small talk. Returning, she placed one in front of Watermint, one in front of Faith, and finally, her own in front of an empty seat. The tension eased only a little when she spoke up. “So, um, Mint. I was thinking we could go for a walk - I can show you that grove we talked about.” The kirin was about to answer when Faith interrupted. “Are you sure you’re alright to go on such a long walk, dearest? You ought to be resting after your trip to town. I wouldn’t want you to exacerbate your injuries.” She frowned, looking genuinely concerned. A spike of doubt pierced through Mirror’s heart. “Thank you, Faith, but I think I can manage a walk. Besides, Watermint will be right there if anything happens.” Faith frowned, but fell silent, taking a sip of her drink. Mint grimaced, briefly, and looked over at Mirror before she piped up. “I’d love to see the grove. Let’s head out before it gets too much later, and I’ll have Mirror back home before dark, sound good?” Mirror nodded, standing again. She drained her cup, as did Watermint, and Mirror took both back to the kitchen. Faith fixed Watermint with a death glare. Very softly, leaning partially across the table, she whispered, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but Mirror is mine. Try anything, and believe me, I’ll know.” “I’ve no clue what you’re on about, love, but that ain’t a healthy way to view a relationship. She’s her own pony. I’m her friend, and if you aren’t comfortable enough in your relationship to let her have friends, the problem ain’t her friends.” Faith scoffed and leaned back in her chair, still glowering. Mirror walked back in. “Well, Faith… I suppose we’ll see you later?” She sounded a little nervous, Watermint noticed, even as they walked over to the door. Mirror lifted her white cloak, wrapping it over herself. Faith came up from the side. She put her wing over Mirror’s back again, and when Mirror looked over at her, she reached up and set her hoof on Mirror’s cheek. In an almost sickly sweet tone, she murmured, “Just be safe, okay, Mirror? I love you.” Mirror’s face flushed, and she offered a small smile. “I love you too, Faith. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” Faith kissed Mirror, shot a sly smirk at Watermint, and made her way over to her desk. They walked for a while in silence. Sunlight glittered on dew clinging to plantlife, which rustled in a breeze. A rabbit hopped across the path in front of them. It was Watermint who spoke up first, a little awkwardly. “So… Faith’s back, huh? How’d you do it?” Mirror startled a little. “Hm? Oh! Yes. Faith. Well, you know me,” she laughed, a nervous, short laugh. “I wrote a spell, tried it out… here we are.” “That’s all it took?” “Here we are,” Mirror stopped, and lifted her hoof to gesture at the grove. Thin trees grew in rows, each bearing a different fruit. Some were clearly out of season, yet they grew anyway, likely aided by magic. Watermint didn’t push the issue. The pair wandered the grove, discussing the methods Mirror used to keep the trees productive throughout the year. Soon, both were smiling and at ease, settling into a patch of grass as they chatted. Several improvements to the grove came up; Watermint was a formidable gardener in her own right, and had quite a few ideas that would make the area a veritable eden. They spoke, too, of Watermint’s travels and of the quest that had brought her so far from her home. An ancient relic that had once belonged to her ancestors, apparently lost to pillagers, had resurfaced recently. Mirror offered advice on the recovery of it. It was, all things considered, delightful. By the time a hazy golden-orange glow came into the sky, Mirror seemed no longer nervous or afraid, as she had around Faith. Watermint took this as her cue. “Mirror, I’m loathe to bring it up, but something seems real off about this whole situation. Tell me honestly, how is it you brought Faith back? It can’t be as simple as writing a spell. That ain’t how curses work.” Mirror’s face fell, and she looked down at the grass. “I don’t suppose I can convince you that my magic is just that strong?” No answer. Mirror sighed. “Very well. I rewrote the curse with my own additions, and… I transferred it. To myself. Faith recovered fully, and will live out her life as she should have in the first place. I will live as long as the curse allows, with Faith by my side. Maybe it’s not the perfect solution, but I am happy.” She risked a glance at the kirin, who was staring at her with unbridled horror in her expression. Mirror looked back at the ground. Her ears flattened. “...And Faith… she’s okay with that? With you dying for her?” “She did not have a vote on the matter.” “Does she even know?” “...Yes,” Mirror frowned. “I cast it in front of her.” “You… Mirror, that’s downright I’m not expert on the subject, but condemning yourself to death right in front of someone who loves you? What next, you plan to rip out her heart and stomp on it? Really, I-” Watermint stopped short, then, because she had never seen Mirror cry before. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes, and when she tried to blink them away, one rolled down the right side of her face. Mirror refused to look up at her friend. The silence seemed harsher than Watermint’s speech of a moment before. She felt helpless, watching Mirror cry, but what could she possibly say? She had seen Mirror flinch at Faith’s touch, and the way that she seemed shocked by even the smallest displays of affection. “Mirror…?” Watermint’s voice was oddly delicate. It felt like the static air was swallowing it up only seconds after she spoke, muffling it. “Mirror, I’m sorry. That was harsh. I- I’m sorry. Please say something…” The tiny frown on Mirror’s face seemed so much worse, paired with those silent tears, than if she had yelled at Watermint, or had gotten up and simply left. It was clear how hard Mirror was trying to stop them, to pretend she wasn’t affected. It scared her just a little. She had pushed as hard as she had because Watermint had met Mirror. Mirror was steadfast, determined, cold and strong. She was defiantly optimistic. This? This wasn’t Mirror. It couldn’t be. When had the witch gotten so incredibly thin? When had she become so frail? It was deeply unsettling to think about, but an idea took root in Watermint’s mind, and she couldn’t send it away. She swallowed. “Why did you write to me, Mirror?” “I… I wanted a friend. Just for a little while.” Mirror’s voice sounded so quiet, so frightened. Her shoulders were hunched, head ducked, as if she was expecting to be hit. Gingerly, almost afraid that she might break the unicorn, Watermint wrapped Mirror up in a hug. She felt Mirror stiffen, and then, tentatively, lean into the embrace. The pair was silent as stone for a long time. This time, it was Mirror who broke the silence. She pulled away from Watermint, finally looking at the kirin instead of at the ground. Her eyes were red, her face flushed from crying, but no more tears came. “She- I don’t think… I don’t think she ever loved me. I don’t know.” Watermint waited quietly, watching Mirror with concern. If she spoke, she worried it might break the resolve that had brought Mirror to finally open up, so she didn’t risk it. “I thought she did, at first. She said she did. She even- she went to try and get a golden apple, to break the curse with the terms I set. But she got caught, and they tried to torture her, except it didn’t work because of my spell. And she made a deal with them, to let her go, and-” Mirror took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself down. “And she said that she would bring me back. But I thought maybe she didn’t mean it, maybe she was just trying to get out so that she could come home.” “Bring you… bring you back? What? Mirror, who caught her?” “Queen Jonquil.” It was Watermint’s turn to draw in a slow breath. The kirin knew only a little of what Mirror had been through, but the name was familiar. “But that wasn’t the reason?” Watermint pressed, searching Mirror’s eyes as she asked. Mirror shook her head. “No. She just wants to go back home, with Jonquil, and with…” Mirror hesitated, looking away again. “With someone else, too. She doesn’t know what I heard. I have no idea if know what I heard, but, um. Her name is Rivet.” Watermint felt her insides turn to ice. She was filled with a sudden burst of anger and hatred, so strong that she was halfway to standing before she had realized it. For Mirror’s sake, she knelt back down. As calmly as she could, she asked a question. “Why the hell are you still living with her?” Mirror’s eyes welled up with tears again. She was trembling like a leaf in a storm, Watermint realized, and she looked so frightened. “There’s nowhere else I can go, Mint. I could get a golden apple with a tracking spell and a teleportation spell, but… but I would rather live a few months, pretending that Faith loves me as much as I love her, than live a whole lifetime never trusting anyone. I don’t want to live in a world where I know for sure that she has never loved me.” Quiet again. After a long silence, Watermint got to her hooves and helped Mirror up. Neither spoke a word on the way back to the cottage, nor could either look at the other. Mirror opened the door. Faith was doing something in the kitchen, but to the surprise of both of them, she had laid out dishes for three. She was… making dinner? It felt oddly surreal. Still, they took their seats at the table. Only a little time passed before Faith brought out food, setting everything down and taking her own seat right next to Mirror. She wrapped a wing around the unicorn, remarking, “You’re so cold. You shouldn’t have stayed out so long, Mirror; I was so worried… Anyway, I’m glad you’re back.” Watermint cleared her throat. At the reminder of the kirin’s presence, Faith shot her a scowl. “So, how long is the kirin going to be here? If it’s very long, I’m going to need to run to town for extra food. They do eat a lot.” Had a pin dropped, all three would have heard it. “Excuse me?” Mirror was staring at Faith, eyes wide. Faith looked back without an ounce of shame, and Mirror stood up, pushing away the wing that had been draped over her shoulders. The pegasus finally seemed to realize that Mirror was upset, and she stood up, too, facing Mirror. Watermint stood as well, ready to intervene if need be. “What? It’s true.” “What it ,” Mirror raised an eyebrow, “Is racist. That’s low, Faith, even for you.” Faith scowled at Mirror. “What exactly are you implying, dear?” “I’m implying that you should apologize to my friend.” “You’re really going to fight with your fiancée because your who I suppose can’t speak for herself, be offended by something I said?” Mirror stared at Faith. For a moment, Watermint expected the unicorn to back down. “Yes. I am. Whether or not Mint is offended, what you said was out of-” Mirror’s legs buckled, and her hoof immediately went up to the spot Faith had struck. She didn’t cry out, or whimper, or even move. Faith was just as still. A line had been crossed. There was nothing that she could say, here, that would make anything even remotely okay. She had no power over Mirror, not now, not ever again. Watermint was the first to move. She stepped between the two ‘lovers’ and helped Mirror, who still seemed numb with shock, to her hooves. Horribly calm, the kirin leaned in close to Faith. She snarled two words. “Get out.” The pegasus opened her mouth, but a shiver ran down her spine, and she shut her mouth with a clack. Turning, Faith fled into the woods. Satisfied, Watermint turned back to Mirror. If the swelling patch on her face hurt, Mirror made no indication, and she said nothing when she was guided to a chair and made to sit down. She failed to react to anything said to her. Eventually, Watermint gave up. Mirror would not eat, drink, or even sleep. If Watermint pulled her somewhere, she would go, but she didn’t move around on her own, either. When she had run through a last set of attempts to garner a reaction, Watermint set off into town. She returned with a doctor in tow, only to find Mirror briskly cleaning, her mane tied up in an elegant bun. A few things struck her as odd. First, the portrait on the wall was missing. The part of the wall it had hung over was lighter than the rest of the wall. Faith’s chair was gone, too, and the red cloak On questioning, Mirror seemed… fine. She talked with Watermint, laughed, even gave her a brief hug. The pair agreed that they would meet up again soon, and Watermint departed. Left to her own devices, Mirror found herself drifting about the empty cottage. She kept returning to one thing: A single, perfect golden apple. It sat on the table. Each day, at a certain time, Mirror went to the table and looked at the apple. She considered biting into it, breaking the curse, but each day she walked away. Today seemed fit to go exactly the same. Here she stood, gazing at the surface of the apple… and her reflection caught her eye. She looked into her own eyes. Spite and resentment rose up in her chest. She glared at herself. “Coward.”

Crystalline water. Grass so green it looked almost fake. Sunlight streaming in through the trees and playing through it all. The clearing had not changed since Faith had left it, that fateful day, and she went still staring around at where she had lived for twelve years. Mirror stepped past her. She fit perfectly into the magical place. Her mane was tied back in braids, but it still glittered and shone in the light - like glass, Faith thought. It was one of those moments that made her heart twist and flutter at the same time. One that made it harder to stick to her plan, to betray the same pony that she had once given up everything to rescue, just to get ahead in life. Mirror stood already by the pond, looking down into the water, and for the first time, Faith got a good look at just how much Mirror had protected her from. A deep, velvety red rose bloomed right out of the flesh of her chest. Three smaller buds were still pushing their way out, and there were green leaves, too, the youngest of which were the same colour as Mirror’s eyes. And thorns. Little thorns poked out from place to place, sharp and curved. Smaller ones pressed out against the skin, not yet strong enough to burst through, and made irritated bumps. Mirror had always loved so much more fiercely than Faith - it had taken several long months for Jonquil’s curse to get anywhere near this bad for the pegasus, and even then, she’d only had buttercups. Thin stems with no thorns to speak of, tiny flowers she could just cut off whenever they got too aggressive. It had only been a month or two at most since Mirror had transferred the curse. Faith’s heart wrenched again, looking at the tender red skin that was swollen in each place plant matter had claimed, and then at her shoulders, her throat, her legs, where she had taken every wound that had been meant to make Faith talk. Burns with angry blisters, and with grey, dead skin around them. Bruises that were every colour from black to purple to lime green circled each ankle, with another ring around her throat. Thin slices of varying pressure were deep enough not to have a proper scab; they were a shade of dark red, with lighter sections and some spots that were healing over. And yet, there Mirror stood, running one hoof over the surface of the water. Her foreleg was bent at an awkward angle - just another thing Faith hadn’t noticed, swept up in her own plans, her own ambitions. It was broken and wrapped in several layers of tight gauze to keep it from getting worse. Of course Mirror had noticed her capture. Of course she had noticed when suddenly this had stopped. How could she not? A chill rippled up Faith’s spine. She spread one wing over Mirror’s back, quietly, careful not to touch any of the injuries. “Mirror?” “Hm?” “I love you.” The tiny smile Mirror shot her felt more like a punch to the gut. She looked so sad so much of the time. Even that smile had swiftly faded away, back into a sort of melancholy, and Mirror was looking down at the water again. Faith could hardly blame her. Mirror was smart and resourceful. However much she pretended that she trusted Faith again, she had figured out more than Faith had anticipated. She had realized when Faith had made an attempt to dissuade her from spending time with her friends by using her own spell against her. She had reasoned out that Faith had been released, and that that meant Faith had made some sort of bargain. She’d even figured out that she had been part of the bargain, and fought back when Faith tried to enact her plan. Mirror knew Faith was manipulating her for her own gain, somehow; she just didn’t know how exactly. That last bit was the part that kept Faith second guessing her plans. She what Faith was up to, and she stayed anyway. Mirror really, truly loved her. It had been the lynchpin in her plan: if Faith made her think she needed to, Mirror would go to war against the laws of nature. She would run to the edges of Equestria and beyond for the chance to protect Faith. She had even sworn away her own life so that Faith could be a part of the world. It was exactly what Faith had always wanted from her mother. Here was Mirror, offering her that and asking nothing in return, and yet like her mother, Faith only ever wanted more. Would anything be enough for her? Would her mother’s love make her happy? Would ruling an entire kingdom be good enough? Deep inside, she knew it wouldn’t. She knew she should be happy with Mirror. Somehow, though, she had found herself prepared to toss Mirror away like an old plaything, just to get her hooves on something shiny and new. She really was like her mother. Jonquil had far outlived a normal lifespan simply by her own nature. The Queen was a lectoblix; by draining the life from others, she kept herself young and fit, while those unfortunate enough to become her target aged rapidly and often died. If they survived, they were locked away, never to be allowed to share their experience or warn anyone else of what was to come. Another thing Faith intended to exploit. By gaining social status and exposing that to Jonquil’s citizens, Faith was certain she would make herself a hero in the eyes of the kingdom, securing her reign as the next Queen. She stopped herself from really worrying about Mirror that way, by imagining a world where she was Queen of an entire kingdom, where she could defeat her mother and take her place. If she let herself fold just because Mirror looked sad, she would never be strong enough or callous enough to gain the power she wanted. Queen. It didn’t matter that Mirror was hurting because of her. It didn’t matter that she would only hurt Mirror more to get what she wanted. She could be the Queen. A Queen didn’t need to worry about individuals other than herself. A Queen only needed to have power over her subjects as a whole. A Queen could inflict this level of pain with the flick of a quill, and go on to have tea and pastries, without even the slightest worry for someone on so low a rung as Mirror. Mirror was a stepping stone. Nothing more.

“Now, my precious little flower, you must stay here and stay quiet. Do you understand? This is very important. I love you more than anything in the world.” “I love you too, mum,” Hebe whispered, confused and frightened, but always obedient. The door shut. She sat huddled in her parents’ closet on the floor, in the dark. Muffled voices came from downstairs. Two were harsh and stern, two defensive, and then came a fifth voice that had a distinctly pompous air to it. She heard her name. Pressing closer to the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut, tried not to breathe too loudly. She listened as best she could to the sound, and realized something that made her heart seem to squeeze in on itself: Her parents were arguing with guards. guards. They were essentially arguing with the prince himself. And then to her dismay, steps fell on the stairs. The door of the closet creaked. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by her father. He looked exhausted. “Hebe, the prince wants to meet you. Come downstairs.” Now they were downstairs, and Hebe’s mother was held tightly by one of the two guards who gleamed with armor. A sword was held against her neck, and she glared at her husband so fiercely that Hebe felt like crying. Instead she found herself ushered out into a glittering carriage with a travel case of her most important possessions. She was taken to the castle, first, and then out and through the court. That was exciting, except then they kept going - she was made to walk up stairs until her little legs ached. The tower room. It was gorgeous, decorated lavishly, and yet it seemed darker and gloomier than even the little closet had. Hebe wanted to go home. She didn’t like it here. She didn’t like the golden band clasped shut around her neck, or the tiny square window, and she didn’t like the dry meals that were pushed through a slot in the door three times a day. Everything hurt, for some reason. The food felt like it was sticking to her throat and strangling her. It tasted like dust. She stopped eating it. Somehow she was aware that it had been a year, though she couldn’t have said how she knew that, and she was being dragged by chains down the stairs in a gown she didn’t remember putting on. Faces she recognized but didn’t remember passed by in large crowds. Desperately she tried to remove the chains. They only got tighter each time, until she couldn’t breathe… The world went foggy. She screamed, suddenly sitting bolt upright in her own bed, in her own room, in her own cottage. That was worse. Mirror would have wept for the mother she couldn’t remember, or for her present predicament, except she was so very tired that she could only stare blankly at the blanket. Slowly, mechanically, she laid back down and set her head on the pillow. It felt like a bag of slightly squishy rocks pressing into her skin. Everything ached. She stared at the wall, now, with its pale green wallpaper that had vine-like stripes and leaves. “Hebe,” she mumbled. It was the only thing she remembered from the dream. What was hebe? Or… who? Did it even matter? She sighed, and waited for sleep to return if it would. Even the energy to close her eyes seemed like more than she possessed.

It was just late enough that Mirror had returned from the woods, but not quite late enough to end the day and go to bed. The clock kept ticking every so often, infuriatingly slow, to signify the marching of time, and that made for the only sound in the cottage. When it had begun to grow colder, the crackling of a fire joined it, and bathed the lower floor in a rosy glow. Light rain fell outside. Faith sighed, looking at the unicorn from her spot nestled in a faded yellow floral print armchair. It had once been set right beside the stone grey one Mirror occupied, but after their fight, she had come down from her room to find that Mirror had moved hers over to the wall and beside a lamp. Neither had given up feigning politeness, so Faith couldn’t say much when Mirror claimed it was so that she could read late at night. “Mirror… Would you please stop avoiding me like I’m a stranger? I hate seeing you like this. All I want is to help you, and you’re acting like I’ve asked you to cut off your legs.” Mirror glanced up at her, dead eyed. “You are right. I should be jumping at the opportunity to return to an imprisonment that robbed me of the chance to have any real foalhood, alongside stripping me of my memories of those who might once have loved me, and just trust that the one who put me there will let me out once she has what she wants.” “You’re just being cruel, now. I love you, Mirror, and I don’t want to sit by and watch you die for me! Stop trying to make it more than that, because that’s all there is to it, and I can’t listen to you treat me like a villain any longer. I’ve not done anything to deserve that.” “I...” It was Mirror’s turn, now, to sigh. She was being cruel, wasn’t she? Faith had lied to her, yes, but then she had done her best to make up for it. Even though she suspected Faith had been released, rather than escaping as she claimed, what proof did she have that Faith wasn’t being genuine? Every time she thought she had a reason to be upset with Faith… Faith had always responded reasonably. She’d been mild mannered and polite even when accused of betrayal. There was always some explanation that made her feel stupid for doubting Faith. Did she really have any right to be upset? “I’m so sorry, Faith. I don’t… I don’t know what has gotten into me lately.” Tears formed in her eyes, and she hid her burning face in her forelegs, confused and ashamed. Once again she felt stupid and irrational for what she had previously considered reasonable suspicions. It made her feel sick to her stomach. A hoof brushed her shoulder lightly, and Faith swept her up in a hug. For the first time in days, Mirror leaned into her, wrapping her arms around the pegasus. She wanted so badly to trust Faith, and it was easier to rewrite her own emotions and thoughts than to keep pushing back against someone she had loved for so long. “It’s okay, Mirror. We’re okay. I’m not mad at you. I’m just worried… the more time you spend out there, with your friends, the more they get to you. I don’t want your friends to tear us apart after all we’ve been through together. You know I love you, right?” “And I love you. I’m sorry,” Mirror whispered. She felt so guilty, so immature. This was the same pony who had robbed a queen and escaped into the night, just for her, and she had still managed to get so carried away in her anger. Faith would never really hurt her. Not on purpose. “Don’t be sorry, my dearest. Whenever you’re scared, or your new friends start making you worry, just come talk to me. I won’t be mad at you. I know it isn’t your fault.” Faith pulled away, and lifted Mirror’s face with a hoof so she could look her in the eyes. “You’re more precious to me than anything in the world. You know that, right?” Rain pattered against the windows. Evening was fading from the sky, revealing the deep dark of a starless, moonless sky. As if they’d never fought in the first place, Mirror’s chair was right beside Faith’s again, and they stayed close together in the flickering of the firelight. Although Mirror was taller than Faith, she leaned her head on the pegasus’ shoulder, and Faith had a wing over her like a warm blanket. Tea steamed in two cups. There were pieces of a puzzle laid out before the pair. Every so often, one of them would reach out and connect a few of them, slowly putting it together. Neither said a word for a long time, and although certain uneasiness stayed heavy in Mirror’s stomach, she pressed it down again. She was just being paranoid.