With a sound somewhere between a scream and a growl, Twilight stormed up the stairs with a faint sense of deja vu, though this time Spike was following her. Her parents were being so...so...unreasonable!

She stomped furiously down the hall. Why couldn’t they be happy and excited that she was trying to get ahead academically? Or at least understand how important this project was for her grade? It replaced her science and math credits, as well as filling the slot for an elective. Almost half her GPA was dependent on this project—she needed to succeed at it and impress her Principal.

Stopping outside her bedroom door, a hand on the knob, she frowned even harder when she didn't hear the familiar footfalls of Sunset coming after her...something she suddenly realized she had been expecting. The teen waited a full minute and twenty three seconds to see if Sunset just needed time to make excuses or tell off the adults in her own way, but by the end of it, there was still no sight or sound of her girlfriend. No footsteps, no voice calling her name with worry, no warm arms to encircle her in a hug...

That stung, far more than expected, a feeling of hurt and betrayal burning in her chest at the thought that her Sunny had chosen her parents over her. She jerked the door open to her room and hurried inside, barely giving Spike time to run in before she slammed it as hard as humanly possible. The reverberating BANG! was enough to knock a framed picture over, sending it crashing to the ground with the satisfying tinkle of broken glass.

In lieu of Sunset’s caring embrace and soft body, Twilight hugged herself, trying to contain and control the vicious maelstrom of thoughts and emotions battering themselves to shards inside her skull, as sharp edged as the slivers of glass on the floor. It was too much, anger and frustration, hurt, pride, betrayal and fear, and so many more she couldn't even begin to identify, all clamoring for her attention and focus, alongside a dozen different scenarios of how the confrontation could have—maybe even should have—gone.

It was Spike who broke through the mental noise, pawing and barking and whining, tugging on her pant leg to pull her away from the glass. She followed, finally sinking onto the floor next to her bed, letting her dog curl up in her lap. “It’s not right, Spike! Or fair! Sunset’s my girlfriend, my best friend...she should have at least come upstairs with me! She keeps telling me how important I am to her, so why would she choose them over me?!”

Head cocked slightly, Spike let out a low woof, before shaking his head with a snort. “I didn't expect her to get involved in the discussion, but she didn't come up with me—she stayed with Mom instead!” Twilight responded irritably.

Spike whined, nosing her arm. The teen sighed. “I know...Sunset adores Mom, doesn’t she?” At another querulous whine, she shook her head. “I don't know...I guess maybe it's because she lost hers, and not really having one in her life for so long makes it way more special in her eyes than it feels like to me? Sunset only gets to see the nice parts—she goes home to her place and can do what she wants to without anyone hovering or being overprotective!”

Even as she said it, Twilight felt her stomach twist unpleasantly. That was a hideously unfair statement, and she knew it. She loved her mother dearly, and their relationship was special to her...she just wished sometimes that her mother would be willing to see her as a near adult, and not the little girl who cried and panicked about absolutely everything. It was also unfair to Sunset, who had no one at home and no loving family to surround her most nights, and who had bonded with Twilight’s instead.

Her dog apparently thought so too, and he growled softly, a low rumble that wasn't so much threatening as it was disapproving. She scratched his ears gently. “I don't mean it that way! It's just that it's not fair! I'm not a child anymore, but they can't seem to see that, and Sunset doesn't have to deal with that kind of thing. She can work on what she wants whenever, and no one tries to treat her like a little kid anymore! Even Mom and Dad treat her like an adult, which isn't fair! She’s only a year or two older than me!”

Another canine like huff. “I’m being completely rational, Spike! I explained to them all of the major logical reasons why I want to do this project...” And she had—mostly. She had left aside the one biggest reason, because she still couldn't bring herself to admit to them about her preference for female companionship. Spike gave her a long look, and she caved. “Okay, I didn't tell them every reason, but that's more of a personal reason than a logical one! If I do this, then I can prove everyone wrong, show them I am worth something and I'm not broken...if I do that, then people will judge me for my abilities, and stop judging me for everything that's not normal, because none of it will matter by comparison! Not an atypical psychology, not my anxieties, and not my sexuality!”

A furry head nudged her, and the dog leaned against her as she hugged him tight. “I shouldn't have to tell them all that though, Spike. I was trying to present logical reasons and explain my thought process—it should have worked! It seemed to be working on Dad, at least until—”

Until Shining had gotten involved. Twilight’s brows furrowed as her frown deepened. She loved her brother, he was her BBBFF after all, but now, thinking about it... She appreciated that he had agreed with her, sided with her. The support had been welcome then. However, analyzing it now, she found herself frowning. He had jumped in, and it had been him who had escalated the discussion into an argument. He had also gone too far with their mother, and Twilight felt her innards squirming again as she recalled his words. She knew why her mother had a career that had let her work almost exclusively from home, and a large part of that reason had been Twilight herself. Shining knew it too, which made his comment far more vicious than her mother had deserved.

Her thoughts twisted back in on themselves, a series of spirals that led nowhere and left her mind a chaotic, disordered mess. Part of her was angry at her brother—just like her parents, he saw her as this fragile little girl that needed protection, and in his misguided, outdated urge to do so, he’d made everything worse and taken the situation out of her hands when she’d had everything perfectly under control. Another part was frustrated beyond words for her seeming inability to communicate with her parents about what she was trying to do, why she wanted this. Still another corner of her mind gnashed its teeth about her parents being narrow minded and over protective, unwilling to let her grow into a real adult at her pace, holding her back for reasons that just weren't fair!

Spike nudged her with his nose, the cold dampness jolting her abruptly out of her thoughts. She hugged him tight. “I wish Shining had just stayed out of it. He only made it worse. Especially with what he said at the end—Mom might not like it when I look to Principal Cinch as a role model, but he should know better than to say something like that!” It had been hot headed and short sighted of Shining, and with something he knew very well was untrue. Their mother was plenty successful! “If he hadn't stepped in, I’m sure I could have made them understand.”

And she did want them to understand, to realize this had truly been her choice, not something she was bullied or pressured into, not something she felt obligated to do. “I’m doing it for me, for my future,” she told her dog vehemently. “Not for anyone else.”

Spike gave her a long look, head cocked to the side, ears splayed, as close to incredulous as a dog could get. Then he snorted at her. Twilight huffed a little in response. “Alright, yes. I’m doing it for Sunset too...but that's not something I can explain to mom and dad, or to Sunny either. Can you imagine? ‘Oh, Sunset, you have to understand. I need this project to be the most amazing and spectacular project ever, with world changing results, enough to have it launch me ahead in academia in a way that’s so impressive that having a girlfriend can’t be a hindrance.” She rolled her eyes at the dog. “That's absolutely the last thing I should do.”

Twilight rubbed his ears to silence another growl. “I adore her, Spike, I really do...but something like that is not the kind of thing to go saying to Sunset, not when I’d really like us to be serious, for her to be the one that I—”. She broke off, not wanting to finish that thought aloud. “Anyway. It's not something I can say, not without completely ruining everything and making it all meaningless.”

She tipped her head back, letting it thump against the side of her mattress, her mind still caught in a repeating loop of thoughts she couldn't seem to escape from, her frustration rising with every completed mental circuit and her own failure to regain control over her brain.

Footsteps registered at the edge of her awareness, followed by a firm series of knocks on her bedroom door. “Twilight?” her father’s voice called, far too distant at first. “Open your door. You and I need to have a talk.”

Exasperation made her want to scream, what little progress she’d made scattering at the interruption. “I’ll come out when I’m ready, Dad,” she called back.

Instead of the acknowledgment she expected, he said, “Not this time, young lady. You and I are going to talk now, because what happened downstairs is inexcusable. Open your door.”

“I don't want to talk right now, Dad,” she bit back, trying to keep from getting angry. “You need to just leave me alone!”

“Twilight Sparkle,” Night said in a very firm, no nonsense tone. “I am not asking. Normally, I would give you space...but not tonight. In this situation, I am invoking my Parental Override Right. Unlock your door, or I will get the master key and unlock it myself. Those are your options.”

Twilight swallowed a scream, before shuffling over on her knees to unlock the door and retreating back to the spot against her bed, glowering all the while. “It's open,” she grumbled.

Her father opened the door frowning at the sound of broken glass being pushed by the door’s movement. “Twilight,” he said firmly, “you know better. No matter how mad you might be, it's not acceptable to take out that anger on people or possessions.”

The dark haired teen crossed her arms, her stare turning frosty. “It wasn't intentional,” she replied stiffly. “That hook has been loose for a while and needed to be replaced.”

“Your behavior tonight has still not been acceptable,” he responded, crossing to sit in her desk chair. “We were supposed to have a calm, rational discussion, and instead, it turned into a screaming fight. We’ve taught you better than that, Twilight, and I’m very disappointed in you. Especially with how you treated your mother. That was uncalled for, and it really hurt her...and that is unacceptable.” He gave her a serious look. “And what’s more, I know you know that too.”

That made her angry, and she could feel the fierce burn of tears in her eyes, vision going blurry. “Why is it unacceptable only when I do it?” Twilight demanded. “It's not fair and it doesn't make any sense!”

Whatever her father had intended to say dried up. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone else can stand up for themselves, to not be a doormat to everyone around them, and its a good thing, but whenever I try, people don't like it!” Twilight huffed out bitterly. “When I stand up for myself, I’m suddenly questioned about my competence, or my intelligence, or chastised for my behavior, and I don't understand why that is! I'm doing everything right! Being firm, being assertive, refusing to back down on things that are important to me, trying to handle my problems without crying to my family or Sunset...”

Night’s brows furrowed as he listened to her rant, studying her thoughtfully. It gave her the courage to keep going, because for the first time in forty eight hours, it felt like someone besides Sunset was actually listening to her. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad, and I have to start doing things on my own, or I'll never be able to function as an adult, let alone survive in the competitive, male dominated sciences that I want to go into. No one there is going to be impressed if I have to go crying to you and mom every time things get tough, or someone is mean.” Her tone edged into accusatory. “I can’t do that if you won’t give me the chance.”

Her father was silent until she took a pause to breathe, her skull aching and her chest tight in response to her rising emotions and tumultuous thoughts. “Is that what you’ve been trying to do the last two days, Twilight?” His voice was still level and calm, but it had lost the icy edge that indicated he was displeased. Now he sounded genuinely curious.

“Yes! I was so proud of myself yesterday, Dad. I was anxious all morning, but I kept it under control—I used what Dr. Soft-Spoken has taught me to stay calm, and I went into that meeting to handle it myself, and I did it! I read the contract carefully, listened to what Principal Cinch was saying, and I made a decision for myself. It went amazing, and I did it without anyone having to hold my hand or keep me from panicking.” She scowled. “I just...I thought you guys would be proud of me too.”

Leaning forward, Night rested his elbows on his knees so he was more on a level with her. “Twily,” he responded. “I am proud of you—your mother and I are both very proud of you and all you have accomplished. And knowing that you're trying to take steps on your own, trying to gain some independence, that's fantastic.” He reached out with a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “But,” he added, and she clamped down on another surge of frustration, “I need you to understand that that is not how you have presented yourself the last two nights in this house. You have not come off as assertive and confident; instead, you are presenting a behavioral front that resonates as belligerent and hostile.”

Twilight frowned. Was that the problem? If it was, what was she doing wrong then? The frustration she felt turned inward, and she began sifting through every moment of the last few days. She weighed her words, attitude, choices and even tone of voice against others’ behaviors, like Sunset the time they had been at the café where they got milkshakes and a group of boys from one of the city high schools had bothered them, or the way her Principal and some of the teachers conducted themselves, or even how her father lectured in his classes and talked to some of his students.

On some level, she was aware that her father had started speaking again, but she pushed the words away until they were little more than a faint buzz so she could focus more thoroughly. It was nowhere near as important as the insistent, urgent need to search her memories and overlay them with one another in order to understand what had gone wrong. She had been firm, like her teachers. She’d refused to back down, like when Sunset had told the boys to leave them alone because she wasn’t interested in their time or attention, no matter how many times they begged. She’d even used logic and rational presentation of her side of things, just like Principal Cinch had clearly approved of, and she’d done it without panicking or stammering or breaking down.

“...ight?”

So what exactly had she done wrong? It had to be something she’d done or not done—there was no reason for her father to lie to her, and more than that, that was something her parents had always promised to never do to her. A lifetime of memories and experiences backed their promise with hard evidence, so if her father said that she’d been acting belligerent rather than assertive, she believed there had to be weight to his claim. That meant that somehow, someway, she’d gotten it wrong...but how? Where?

“...ilight?”

Physical sensation once more proved to be the thing to break through her whirlwind of thoughts. This time it was a hand on her shoulder. Large. Masculine. A tremor of fear crawled up her spine, until she realized it was familiar. Gentle, but firm, squeezing periodically, in time with the sound she’d pushed away.

“Twilight...”

A sound that slowly resolved into her name. Oh! The dark haired girl blinked, looking once more to her father who had moved from the chair to kneel in front of her. Her chest hurt, she realized, tight and constricted, like she was being squeezed in a vice, and she couldn’t seem to draw a full breath.

“It's okay, star girl. Breathe for me. It's going to be okay.” Night spoke firmly. “You’re okay.”

It broke something, the lynchpin that had kept all the emotion tied up and tangled inside her, and with the collapse of the emotional dam, tears of frustration and anger and guilt made tracks down her cheeks in twin rivers. She let out a rasping sob, prompting her father to pull her into a hug, one hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly in the same pattern he had done since she was a little girl. Soft words that held no meaning to her in that moment filled her ears, acting like a cool, calming wave that washed away most of the rest of her agitation, coupled with the steady sound of her father’s heartbeat to ground her. The familiarity allowed her to get her breathing under control, and it slowly passed, leaving her feeling drained and a cottony sensation enveloping her brain.

When she’d finally managed to return to a state approximating ‘normal’, her father asked, “…Do you feel better?”

Taking stock of herself, Twilight gave a slow, tentative nod. “…a little…but my head hurts now…and I feel like I want to take a shower and go to bed.” Her shoulders sagged. “….I’m sorry, Dad. I…wasn’t trying to be hostile. I just wanted you to…let me do things on my own for once, to make you see how important this is to me. I need to do this…I need to know if I can do this, for me, for my future.”

“Can you explain to me why it's so important, Twily?” he asked gently, returning to his seat in her desk chair.

The judging faces of her peers, the scowls of her relatives, the harsh words she’d heard for years…they all echoed in her mind, the only bright spot the smile on amber skinned features under a wild mane of red and gold. “…Because I need to know I’m not the broken freak everyone thinks I am,” she admitted in a small voice, fighting more tears and a rising resentment against those who told her how little they felt she was worth. “Because I want to prove to Great Aunt Alabaster, and Aunt Filigree and everyone else that I’m more than what they say I am. I want to prove that I don’t need to be what they want in order to be happy and successful and a person worth knowing. I need to prove it for me, so I know I’m worth something, that I can be the person I’ve always wanted to be, able to make a difference in the world for the better, to expand the fields of science and the knowledge of mankind.” Because I want to be someone worthy of Sunset, who is so wonderful and amazing and brilliant…because she deserves a partner, a best friend, who can walk beside her, not follow at her heels… her mind whispered, …and right now…that’s not you, Twilight Sparkle.

Night’s brows pinched together, his expression one she couldn’t accurately parse, especially with how strained her brain felt. He took a breath, letting out slowly in a fashion not unlike one of her myriad of breathing techniques before he spoke. “Alright, Twily…if that’s how you feel, then we’ll do what we can to help you get there…” His voice sounded stilted and off, like there was an emotion missing, but she was more caught up on the important part of his words: he wasn’t telling her she couldn’t do this!

“…but Twilight?” he continued. “…You need to find a different way to try and assert yourself—what happened last night and today? That will not happen again. You really hurt your mother tonight, and that’s not acceptable, not now, not ever. There are better, healthier, and more effective methods to have your voice heard, and pushing your mother to tears is not one of them.” His gaze sharpened and the firm tone was just tickling the edge of his speech. “You owe her an apology for your actions.”

Twilight squirmed as her stomach twisted, making her dinner sit uneasily in it. She couldn't help the way her eyes dropped to the carpet under her toes or the guilty nod. “I...I know, Dad. I didn’t mean to hurt Mom like that, and I want to make it right.” The dark haired girl worried at her lip with her teeth, the small sting of pain helping to ground her and keep her emotions from spiraling again. “I didn't mean what I said in the way Shining took it. I know he thought he was helping, but I really wish now that he had stayed out of the whole thing.”

Collecting her thoughts, she attempted to articulate them properly. “...Mom is the one who has always been there and its her and Cady I go to when I need to talk stuff out... and it felt to me like she was upset because I was...giving Principal Cinch that same kind of regard for things like my schooling.” Twilight’s shoulders hunched up. “Except it came out all wrong and then Shining made it worse, and its my fault because my messed up brain can't seem to explain anything right!” Her fist clenched against her knee. “I never wanted to hurt her...I love Mom, and she’s given up so much all because of me.”

“Twilight,” Night interrupted the beginning of another rant. “I know you're upset, but instead of working yourself up more, I think the best thing you can do is collect yourself, and come downstairs to apologize. That will go a long way to fixing things. Your brother will be doing the same thing once he gets his own head on straight.” He met her eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

Nodding quickly, Twilight scrambled to her feet. “Let me just...can I have a few minutes to clean up the broken glass and organize my thoughts on what to say to Mom?”

“Of course. Make sure you use the vacuum after you pick up the large pieces. I don't want anyone getting glass in their feet.” Night Light stood, giving her one more brief hug. “We’ll be downstairs.”

As he left, Twilight began the arduous task of cleaning up a broken picture frame.

She could hear her family laughing as she crept down the stairs, her face still damp from the water she’d splashed on it to get rid of the salty tear tracks. Peeking around the corner, she took stock of the situation. Her mother was sitting almost in the middle of the couch, with Cadence perched on one side and Sunset tucked up against her other side, held in a sideways hug and resting her head on Velvet’s shoulder. All three were smiling broadly, and Sunset...Twilight had rarely seen the other girl look so content and happy. Cadence was regaling them with some kind of story, arms gesticulating wildly, and Night sat in his chair, smirking behind a coffee mug. Shining Armor was conspicuously absent.

“....and that’s when she gave me the most excited grin I had ever seen, from a girl who never, ever smiled, thrusting it at me and squealing ‘Cadenza! Why didn't you tell me you had a lightsaber?! I thought you were my friend!’”

Velvet, Night, and Cadence laughed, but it was Sunset who dissolved into giggles, her face crinkled up with mirth and her arms hugging her sides like they were ready to burst. She slumped even further against Twilight’s mother, unable to properly catch her breath because the story had tickled her sense of humor in just the right way so that every time the giggle fit looked like it might stop, she’d suddenly burst into fresh peals of laughter. Soon, it was only Velvet’s arm that steadied the teen and kept her from falling off the couch.

Jealousy and resentment lanced through her innards at the sight, leaving the lavender skinned girl with a sour taste in the back of her throat. Twilight grimaced, forcing the negative emotions down—she couldn't afford to get wrapped up in them now, not when she owed her mother an apology. If Sunset would relinquish some of her mother’s attention so she could, that was.

Her father’s eyes found her, and she squared her shoulders. It was now or never, and she forced her feet to carry her into the living room, stopping awkwardly in front of her mother. The laughter had died away, and now everyone was looking at her. Sunset looked worried, blue-green eyes searching Twilight’s.

Twilight looked away from that gaze quickly, turning to her mother instead. She couldn't handle the twinge of betrayal she felt; if Sunset had time to laugh and share a bonding moment with Twilight’s mother, she could have very easily come upstairs to check on her too.

She cleared her throat, voice barely more than a whisper. “....I’m sorry, Mom. I messed up, and I hurt you....I wasn't trying to, but I did.”

Her mother responded with a loving and gentle tone, reaching out to squeeze Twilight’s hand with her own. “Twily, sweetie, I forgive you. We all say things in anger sometimes that we don't mean. Do you understand why it was the wrong way to handle things, why your words hurt so much?”

Sunset had pulled out of Velvet’s hold, clearly not wanting to disturb this moment, but she watched the interaction with a burning, almost painful intensity. She was so fixated on the two of them it actually felt...rude or maybe embarrassing, particularly since it was, to Twilight’s point of view, her mother’s customary and routine response to her transgressions and apologies: quick to forgive, but patient and firm about making sure Twilight understood what had occurred and why it had elicited the reaction it did.

With a sigh at her girlfriend’s actions, Twilight nodded at her mother. “In my attempts to act independent and self-sufficient, I instead came off as hostile, and I made some ugly accusations that were completely unfounded as a result of my frustration and anger.”

Velvet squeezed her hand again. “Do you have a plan for how you can go about it better in the future?”

For a moment, Twilight found herself wishing that her mother could be more like Principal Cinch, giving her lecture in crisp, concise and informative tones rather than this humiliating, borderline condescending series of questions. While Cinch would have likely delivered a precise and cutting analysis of Twilight’s faults, she would have also provided her with the exact means and steps by which to rectify the behaviors and get the results she desired....something Twilight wished her parents would do more, especially with situations like this, where she was missing whatever instinctive manual on social behavior that it felt like other people were just born with.

Rather than snap at her mother again—once was already too much—the girl sighed softly. “I...believe so. I want to seek out books on the subject of being confident and assertive without presenting an unpleasant demeanor.” She gave her a weak smile. “Particularly as I have been made aware that basing my attempts off of direct observation is nothing short of a catastrophic failure. I definitely need a very different methodology, and books have always proven more effective in imparting knowledge to me.”

Just like her father had, her mother gained a puzzling expression Twilight could not discern the meaning of, but with everything else she was feeling, she was just not in the mood to dissect what it could possibly mean. Infantile as she knew the behavior was, and though it was in direct opposition to the confident young woman she wanted so desperately to be seen as, Twilight held her arms out in a gesture every child instinctively knows. “Can...can I have a hug?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Her mother responded the way she knew the woman would, and Twilight found herself pulled down onto the couch into the space Sunset had vacated so that Velvet could wrap an arm tight around her. She turned her face into a familiar soft shoulder, the knot of conflicting emotions completely giving way to mental exhaustion. It was a nice hug, and even though it was also childish, she felt safe and warm in her mother’s embrace.

Then her mother stretched that arm out further. “Sunset, sweetie, you don't have to move...” and before Twilight could register what was happening, Sunset was pulled tight against her other side, leaving Twilight squished between her mother and her redheaded girlfriend. “Besides,” her mother added, “Twily needs a hug on that side!”

Sunset laughed, and her arm snaked around Twilight’s waist, sending a heated tingle down the dark haired girl’s spine from where amber fingers pressed to her stomach, sneaking just up under the hem of her shirt. She could feel the press of Sunset’s cheek and chin against her shoulder, hot breath blowing across Twilight’s ear. “Don’t worry, I can handle this side, right Sparky?”

It took every ounce of self control Twilight had to not react, to conceal the way the redhead’s touch and smell and closeness made her feel, to not acknowledge the way she was suddenly hypersensitive to the contact and proximity of the girl she desired so badly. Pieces of the dreams she’d had the night before rose up from her memories, heated fantasies that all starred Sunset Shimmer, and she could only hope that her face didn't look as flustered as she felt. “Yeah,” she managed to squeak out, her voice only warbling slightly in the middle. “Sunset’s good at hugs.”

Velvet laughed, in a way that made Twilight wonder briefly if her mother suspected, only to dismiss the thought when the woman’s other arm snagged Cadence and pulled her into a hug as well, turning the couch into one convoluted group hug. “Let’s make this a girls’ hug.”

Night arched a brow at his wife from his seat at the display. “What? Girls only? All that I do, and its right back to ‘no boys allowed’ at the first opportunity? I’m already drastically outnumbered in the family…”

Twilight and Sunset shared a look, before falling even further into each other with fits of giggles, and Twilight found herself relaxing, tension leaking out of her body to leave behind a buzzing lightness. The evening had hit a few snags, but it seemed to be smoothing out, making it a good end to a wonderful day.

*sips cocoa*

....What's going on in your head, Twilight?

And I'll leave it to the rest of you to fill in the blanks on the story Cady is telling. >:}