Starlight awoke to a polite tap at their door. She had her nose tucked against Anon’s chest, his arm around her. The tapping repeated. She huffed and nuzzled into him. Whoever it was could stuff it. The tapping evolved into a firm knock.

“Starlight?” a familiar voice called. Starlight’s eyes snapped wide. She slid from beneath Anon’s arm, off the bed, and trotted to the door. She opened it a crack.

Twilight smiled at her from the hall. “We’re here!”

“You’re here…” Starlight said through a nervous laugh. “Uh, one second.” She shut the door and turned her horn on the bed. She removed a pillow from and tossed it on the floor, then levitated the two table cushions together, creating a makeshift bed.

“Starlight? Are you alright?” Twilight said beyond the door.

“Fine! Just, uh, straightening up.” She opened the small closet. On the top shelf was a folded, spare blanket. Perfect. She spread it atop the cushions and ruffled it. She nodded to herself, then turned toward the door. She inhaled, fixed her face into a smile, then opened it. “Twilight… and Spike! Hi!”

“Sorry for the short notice. I imagine my letter just arrived,” Twilight said as she entered. Spike fluttered in behind her, gripping a heavy looking sack.

“Letter?” Starlight said.

“Yes, I sent it express.” Twilight stopped and looked to Starlight, brow raised. “You have been getting my letters, haven’t you?”

“No, not one.”

“Told you,” Spike said.

“That explains why your responses have been tangential at best,” Twilight said. “I’m giving a lecture this afternoon at the Institute for Sociological Research on interspecies communication.” She looked at Anon, still asleep, then at the cushion bed. “You two couldn’t get a double? I hope he hasn’t let you sleep on the floor this whole time.”

“No! I mean, uh, we’ve… We’ve made do. It was cheaper this way.”

Twilight shook her head and pointed her horn at the nightstand clock. It erupted into obnoxious ringing. Anon shot up.

“It wasn’t me!” he yelled. He looked at Twilight, then Spike, then Starlight, then back to Twilight. “Oh.” He scowled. “Hi, Purple.”

Twilight’s horn lit and the alarm silenced. “Good morning, Anonymous. Starlight’s told me so much about your progress.”

“Huh?” He gave Starlight a questioning look. She lowered her ears.

Spike dropped his load and landed on the bed beside Anon. They bumped fists. “Hey, she hasn’t killed you yet. You have to be doing something right.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Anon said.

Starlight felt like gnawing her hooves. She looked at Twilight and wore her most practiced, concerned look. “You must be tired after your trip. I’m sure you want to rest up for your big presentation.”

Twilight shook her head. “Oh no, we slept on the train. I would like something to eat, however.”

“Yeah, I’m famished,” Spike said.

Anon stretched. “I’m up now. We might as well get breakfast. I think they serve it downstairs, and none of that continental crap.”

“That sounds perfect,” Twilight said.

Starlight perked. “Breakfast! Great idea. Let’s get breakfast. Can’t do a presentation on an empty stomach.”

Spike hopped off the bed. “Have you met Twilight? I’m pretty sure she shuts off all non-essential functions when she’s speaking.”

“I can’t expect the audience to dedicate their full attention if I can’t,” Twilight said. She walked toward the door, then stopped and looked toward Anon and Starlight. “Are you coming?”

“Uh…” Anon scratched his chin. “I’ll meet you down there. I need to put my pants on.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and opened the door. Spike followed. Starlight released a breath and gave Anon a soft smile.

“Starlight, are you coming?” Twilight said from beyond the doorframe. “You probably don’t want to be around for this.” She lifted her hoof toward Anon.

Starlight was startled. “What? Oh! Er, right.” She glanced toward Anon again. He looked confused. Then she followed Twilight and Spike.

--

Twilight scooped another forkful of syrup-drenched haycake and wagged it. “They’ve also discovered gunpowder stores around the town. There was a production facility, completely unzoned for, disguised as a warehouse.” She pushed the fork between her lips.

Starlight snapped her jaw shut and swallowed. “I didn’t see anything like that when we were there. Not that I had time to look.”

Twilight nodded. “Some of the residents have been cooperative, thankfully. But Celestia says most of them are engaged in passive resistance. They follow orders, but barely. It’s like they’re waiting for something.”

“More coffee, princess?” The innkeeper, a blue unicorn with a spring green mane, asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Twilight said before taking a bite of hashed browns.

The innkeeper poured, bowed, then resumed hovering by the entrance to the small, well-lit dining room. There was a buffet table stretched along the wall with large, covered, silver platters. The carpet was the same awful pattern as Starlight and Anon’s room, but it looked somewhat better in the light of the bay window overlooking campus.

Anon entered, palms in his pockets, face glued in grimace, at least until he looked at Starlight. He smiled at her; it made her feel like a school filly with a crush.

Spike waved his fork in the air. “Hey, you almost missed breakfast! What took you?”

Anon smirked. “We’re in the presence of a princess. I had to look my best.” He grabbed a plate and piled it with grits, potatoes, and muffins.

“Oh, please,” Twilight said, muzzle raised. “You walk through the castle in stained shirts and tattered pants all the time.”

“Nothing but the best for my favorite alicorn,” Anon said as he pulled up a chair beside Starlight. “Or if you don’t believe that, it’s for her.”

Starlight willed the heat from her face.

Twilight blew air through her lips. “Right. So, how have you two been getting along? Your letters make it sound like you’ve been more focused on other matters.”

Starlight waved her hoof and looked aside. “Oh, you know, we’re getting along. Nothing out of the ordinary. Occupied with friendship business.”

“Holy fuck, where did you get eggs?” Anon said, fork pointed at Spike’s plate.

“Sorry, I got the last ones. They didn’t have a lot,” Spike said and shoveled some into his mouth.

“Come on, let me get some of those.”

“Nope,” Spike said.

“Let me express my gratitude again, Starlight,” Twilight said as she cut another piece of haycake. “I could hardly imagine you two journeying this long without him driving you crazy. But then again, you are my prized pupil.”

Starlight found herself sitting a little taller. “I couldn’t let you down. And, to be honest, it’s been nice having him along.” She watched Anon and Spike fork duel from the corner of her eye. It reminded her of breakfasts in Twilight’s castle.

“Even so, when I sent you off, I had no idea how long you would last.” Twilight took another bite.

“Yeah, she waited outside for an hour after you left,” Spike said, then parried another attack on his eggs.

Twilight swallowed her food and frowned. “It wasn’t that long.”

Anon looked up, fork in full retreat. “Uh, you guys’ve got it all wrong. Starlight and I are actually—”

“Friends!” Starlight almost yelled her interjection. “Yep, we’re good friends now. Hahahah…”

Anon looked at her. She could see the disbelief in his knitted brows. She shrank into her seat.

“Uh, yeah,” Anon said, then looked at his plate. “We’re friends.”

His words stung for some reason.

“Really?” Twilight took another bite and chewed. Her expression grew thoughtful. “Maybe you two can be visual aids for my presentation!”

“What?” Starlight and Anon both exclaimed.

Twilight nodded. “It’s perfect. Two creatures who couldn’t be more different, now friends! Just the thing I need. I was going to use Sandbar and his friends, but this is much better. You’re actually here.”

“Eh, I dunno, Purple,” Anon said. “I’m not prepared for public speaking.”

Twilight waved her hoof. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask you some basic questions near the end, about your relationship and how you became friends, and then I’ll make my concluding remarks.”

“So only about another hour after that,” Spike muttered.

Starlight looked at Anon. He was pushing his grits around. “What do you say… partner?” She gave him a weak smile.

He nodded.

“Great!” Twilight said. She put down her fork. The innkeeper rushed to her, took her plate, and bowed. “Uh, thanks.” Twilight stood. “We’re expecting a full house. I’m going to get ready. Spike, join me in the auditorium when you’re done. We should go over the flash cards one more time.”

“Again?” Spike groaned.

“There’s no such thing as too prepared.” Twilight lifted her head and teleported.

Anon pushed away from the table, too.

Starlight looked at his plate. “You’re done? You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Not hungry.”

“Can I have your muffins?” Spike asked.

“Go for it.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked out without looking at Starlight.

She watched Spike take the muffins. They looked a little deflated. She could sympathize.
--

About an hour later they were in a large auditorium. The stage faced hundreds of seats spread outward like a fan. There was a podium centerstage, and behind it a screen. Starlight and Twilight were at the projector, wedged between rows. Anon and Spike were sitting at the edge of the stage, dangling their legs and chatting about Power Ponies comics.

Starlight watched Twilight arrange and rearrange her slide order, and gave occasional assent when the latter suggested a slide be removed. There were at least fifty already, so it was almost always a good idea to remove another. But in truth, Starlight’s attention was on Anon. She’d had trouble reading him since breakfast. He’d seemed guarded on their way to the auditorium, although Spike had a way of opening him up.

“Starlight?” Twilight said. Starlight snapped from her daze and looked to the slide her mentor held, a graph showing the growth of gryphon-pony trade ties. How was that even related to the presentation?

“Uh, toss it,” Starlight said.

“Really?” Twilight looked at it. “But it’s part of my second topic point, on how material exchange promotes diplomatic and cultural ties.”

“Toss it,” Starlight repeated. She glanced toward the stage.

Twilight frowned. “You seem distracted. Is everything alright?”

“Uh huh,” Starlight auto responded.

Twilight looked at the stage, too. “It’s great that you two are getting along, but you know my offer still stands.”

“Your offer?”

“Yes. If you want, we can take him home after this.”

“Oh. No,” Starlight said. She bit her lip.

“Alright…” Twilight shuffled through a few more slides. “Between you and me, I can only stand so much of his company myself.” She stacked them and turned on the projector. “He’s kind of a nuisance,” she said, voice low.

Anger flashed through Starlight, but she keep it from her face. “What do you mean?”

Twilight flipped between slides, her eyes on the screen. “Well, you know. He’s coarse, combative, and a little obnoxious. I just don’t have the patience for it most days.”

“Well maybe he wouldn’t seem that way if you bothered to get to know him,” Starlight snapped. Her ears dropped when she realized.

Twilight looked surprised, then apologetic. “You’re right, I shouldn’t think that way, especially about a friend.”

“No, I… I’m sorry, Twilight. I guess I got a little defensive.”

Twilight raised her hoof. “It’s completely understandable. I’m glad you stuck up for him, it shows that you two are becoming good friends.”

“Yeah. Good friends…” Starlight looked toward the stage. Anon and Spike were waving their arms about, mimicking action scenes. She thought about telling Twilight, but shame was an impassable wall blockading the words. She continued helping with the presentation in silence.

--

Ponies streamed into the auditorium. Starlight and Anon sat near the projector while Spike flipped through slides. The little dragon looked bored. He and Twilight had rehearsed for hours. Starlight imagined he was as capable of giving the lecture as Twilight at this point.

Anon looked bored too, cheek against his palm. He’d spoken little to her. It made her uncomfortable. She wanted to ask him if something was wrong, but she knew the answer. Fixing it was a different matter; she felt wedged between two intractable anxieties.

“Here we go,” Anon said. Starlight looked toward the stage. She admired Twilight’s calm. An auditorium full of judgmental academics, but she looked comfortable. But thinking about it, this was Twilight’s natural habitat.

The lights dimmed. First the president of the university introduced the chair of the sociology department, then the chair introduced the director of graduate admissions, then the director introduced the Girus S. Griffin professor of intercultural communication, then the professor of intercultural communication introduced the graduate student who invited Twilight, then the graduate student introduced Twilight. She stepped forward to wild applause. She was already Equestria’s most popular princess, but academy was her kingdom.

Twilight spoke clearly; Twilight spoke well. Twilight spoke forever. Starlight checked out for a while. There were too many graphs and charts, too much information for a single lecture. At least the rest of the audience seemed enraptured—all except Anon, whose head dropped now and then, and Spike, who switched slides by muscle memory.

Starlight daydreamed about kites. She snapped from her fantasies when Twilight said her name.

“… and they’re here in the audience today. Please join me, Anonymous and Starlight.”

That was the cue. Starlight looked to Anon. His head drooped and his eyes were shut. Starlight poked him.

His head shot up. “Huh? Wha? I’m awake.”

“We’re on,” Starlight said. She left her seat, squeezed through the aisles, and trotted onto stage. Anon was close behind.

Anon yawned.

“So, you two didn’t get along, but now you’re great friends. Did communication have a big part in the development of your relationship?”

“Yes,” Starlight said. “Talking things out is generally how we solve problems.”

“I guess,” Anon said.

“And what about your differences? They still exist, don’t they?”

Starlight nodded. “Sure, but they’re nothing we can’t deal with if we’re honest.”

Anon shrugged.

“Ah, so you’d say honesty is important in any relationship, regardless the participants?”

“That goes without saying,” Starlight said. “Honesty is everything.”

“Pfft,” Anon said and looked to the side.

Twilight looked at Anon. “You don’t agree?”

“Just weird to hear Starlight talking about honesty,” Anon said.

Starlight turned toward him. “What does that mean?”

His eyes were trained away from her. “Nothing.”

“Er, right,” Twilight said. “Moving on, have either of you had trouble reconciling existing loyalties, either to members of your own species or to other friends.”

Starlight hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I mean, sometimes, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

Anon grumbled.

“Is that a yes, Anon?” Twilight asked.

“I don’t know, princess. Why don’t you ask your student again?”

Starlight bristled. “Excuse me?”

A murmur rose in the audience. Twilight looked toward them, then to Anon and Starlight. “Uh, haha. Just a bit of friendly banter. What friends don’t engage in that from time to time? But it’s always good natured, never for the purpose of shaming each other.”

“Don’t need bad banter for that,” Anon said.

Starlight stomped. “What’s your problem? Why are you sniping at me?”

Twilight stepped between them. “Okay, maybe we should step back before we start embarrassing each other.”

“Too late for that,” Anon said and sniffed.

“So, I’m embarrassing you now?” Starlight growled.

“Please. Me?” Anon pushed Twilight aside. “You really think I’m worried about being embarrassed?”

“That’s what it sounds like,” Starlight said. When Twilight tried to come between them again, she levitated her aside.

The audience chattered, but Starlight ignored them.

“If that’s it, come right out and say it,” Starlight said, voice rising.

“I will!” Anon yelled. “It’s you who’s embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed by what?” Starlight yelled back. “By how you’re behaving right now? Yeah, maybe!”

“You’re embarrassed by much more than that,” Anon shouted. “YOU’RE EMBARASSED BY ME!”

Starlight reeled back. “W-what?”

“You’re embarrassed by me. Embarrassed by how I look, how I act, how I talk. That’s why when Twilight came you…” He paused, then his shoulders slumped. The anger in his face softened and he turned his head. “Never mind.”

Starlight’s breathing felt weighted and her chest ached. She looked to Twilight, who was having a conniption, then to the crowd. She stood straight. “You’re wrong.”

Anon turned a little toward her, then she grabbed him with her magic and pulled him toward her, and, before he could protest, before he could open his mouth, kissed him.

The audience gasped. Starlight closed her eyes and held him for uncountable seconds, not that he resisted. Her heart was throwing a tantrum, her forelegs trembled. Then she released him. They parted. Their eyes met. Anon was crouched, but if he noticed, he was unconcerned.

Twilight’s mouth was wide.

Spike flew over them, landed, then pushed it closed. “Say something,” he whispered.

Starlight flattened her ears and rubbed her foreleg. “Uh, that’s it. Lecture’s over. Go home!”

Nopony moved.

“Yes,” Twilight stepped forward. “The lecture is… over. Thanks for coming.”

The lights rose, shifting seats and energetic conversation with them. Some ponies filtered out, others remained, stunned, and others formed a queue in front of the stage for questions. Starlight could guess the most popular topic.

She looked at Anon. He was frozen. Spike poked idly at his cheek.

--

Starlight and Anon sat together in their room. They’d snuck away while Twilight answered probing questions about their relationship. Starlight felt bad—Twilight knew about as much about it as the audience—but she thought she’d done enough. No point working an agitated hive into a frenzy.

Anon’s fingers traveled her back, but his eyes were on the door. He’d joked this was another mess they’d left Twilight to clean, but he looked nervous.

The sun had sat by the time Twilight and Spike arrived. Starlight let them in, then returned to Anon’s side at the bed’s edge.

Twilight looked exhausted. “That is why I prefer ponies ask from their seats,” she said. “It’ easier to set limits to question time then.” She sat on her haunches and looked between them. “So…”

“So,” Starlight repeated. “Surprise!”

“I’ll say. When were you going to tell me about… this?” Twilight lifted her hoof toward them.

Anon and Starlight shared a look.

Starlight lowered her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you showed up unannounced and, honestly, it’s new to me too. I thought I had more time. Time to get used to it.”

“You picked a heck of a way to tell me,” Twilight said.

“Worked for me,” Anon said.

Twilight frowned. “Have you told anypony else yet?”

“You’d be the first,” Starlight said. “Well, you and an audience full of sexually frustrated college students.”

Twilight clasped her hooves around Spike’s head. “Starlight!”

“Oh, whups.” Starlight gave a sheepish grin.

Spike peeled away Twilight’s hooves. “Aw, come on, Twi. I’ve studied your anatomy textbooks too, you know.”

Twilight blushed and looked to the side.

“So,” Starlight said, wishing her heartrate would drop below triple digits, “what’s the verdict?”

Twilight’s face became serious. “Well, I don’t approve of the way you revealed it. I would rather you have done so in a less sensitive environment.”

Starlight wilted. “Yeah, sorry again about that.”

“And I’m not sure if you’ve thought through the ramifications of your relationship. There are a lot of ponies who will be interested, first and foremost our friends.”

That needled Starlight. Her thoughts flashed to Trixie, to her father… to Sunburst. She pushed into Anon’s side.

“But…” Twilight said. She smiled. “How they feel about it is up to them, not you.” She approached and placed a hoof on Starlight’s withers. “Personally, I’m happy for you. For both of you. Neither of you could have picked a better mate to drive you insane.”

“Jesus,” Anon said. “You’re even worse than I am.”

Starlight trembled, then lunged forward and wrapped Twilight in a hug. “Thanks…” she whispered. Twilight returned the hug.

When they separated, Twilight wiped a tear from under her eye. “Your secret’s safe with me for now, but I expect you to tell everypony eventually.”

Starlight nodded and placed a hoof on Anon’s lap. “Definitely.”

He scratched behind his head and looked toward the ceiling. “Yeah.”

“Well, we’ve got a train to catch. Sorry we can’t stay and get dinner with you guys,” Twilight said.

“Aww. But train food is awful,” Spike said.

Twilight lifted him onto her back and levitated her bag. “We’ll grab something on the way.” She looked between Starlight and Anon and smiled. “I look forward to your next letter.”

She walked to the door, then paused. She looked back. “And good luck.”

When the door shut, Anon collapsed backward. “Finally, she’s gone. Purple’s great, but she stresses the hell out of me.”

Starlight climbed atop him and rested her nose in his neck. Luck was alright, but they could do without it. They had each other. That was enough.