“It is with great pleasure— No, no, too informal. It has come to my attention— ugh, I sound like a teacher punishing a class… I humbly acknowledge—”

“Twi’?”

There was only one being in Equestria that still referred to her by that name. Smiling too nervously for her liking, Twilight regarded Spike as he peeked around the door, eyebrow raised in a customary manner. She’d probably get another warm jostle about her penchant for getting everything just right again.

Breathe. Just breathe normally.

Cold, sharp air entered her lungs, gradually dispelling growing doubts that gathered at the edges of her jittery thoughts.

Spike grinned. “This time I didn’t have to say anything.” He was right. Maybe her Pavlovian instincts had been overcome by his mere presence. Testing would be in order, though the field was definitely establish—

“Twi’? Any day now. They’re expecting you. After all, you built it. Relax, you’ve gotten a dozen of these.”

He’s right. Stop panicking. This happens every time.

 A hapless grin spread across her lips. Twilight’s wing reached out, wrapping around his shoulders. Recently, the action was getting more and more awkward. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to stretch that far. The passing thought was quashed. So many things have changed, but Spike’s heart was a constant.

“Thanks. Okay. I can do this.”

“Go get them, Twi’.”



It was blinding outside, and Twilight’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the harsh brightness of the evening sun. As she approached the podium, a deep thunderous rumbling echoed through the square when countless hooves pounded the ground. Though the times have shifted, Twilight still noted their familiar hopeful, curious expressions. Emotions that were ageless among the ages.

A hush fell over the crowd. Twilight barely registered the blotch of purple and green that quietly closed the doors behind her. The expectant gazes of thousands fell upon her, and slowly floating cameras trained their mechano-magical lenses on her personage.

Her readied words fled from her mind. No matter how many times she prepared her speech, it always came to this. Her chest ached with the thumping of her heart. The staccato rhythm scattered her thoughts.

At the awkward pause, a slow murmur spread through the crowd. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

No, no, no, already things were falling apart! This was everything to her. This was her shining moment, her chance to make a mark for the generations to come.

The uneasy mumbling intensified.

In her periphery, she caught a movement.

Spike tapped a claw to his chest, leaning easily on a supporting column. Then he pointed upwards.

Twilight’s gaze was drawn to the sky. Overhead was her creation. A design, construction, and execution spanning almost half a generation. It was something she had laboured sleepless nights, tortured mornings, numbing evening meetings. Her magnum opus. Her masterwork. All hers.

Her eyes swept the crowd.

Except it was not.

Slowly, a smile spread across her lips. Soon, Twilight was grinning.

“I want you to look around yourself. Go on, look.”

Confused onlookers warily glanced at each other, noting friends, family, and of course, strangers. Twilight waited a moment longer, then continued.

“I wanted to say how proud I was to achieve this. How this would be the defining moment of my life. I wanted to say that this was something a generation of ponies would define me by. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to be worthy of the faith that everypony put in me.”

Then, Twilight laughed, the clear sound carrying across the plaza.

“I could not have been more wrong! After all, it was everypony’s contribution that made this happen. I may have designed this. I may have put this in motion. But…”

Twilight took a deep breath.

“But it was everypony working together that really pulled this project together. Up above us is a testament of our love and dedication to each other. Up above us is a wellspring of inspiration and motivation for us to reach further than we have ever before.

“Up above us are the hopes and dreams of everypony that worked together for this. I can’t claim this award, not for myself. This medal will inscribe upon it every pony that worked on this project instead, and will be mounted on the frame at the exit.

“I want everypony using it to appreciate that we couldn’t have done it alone..."

Twilight couldn’t help it. She paused dramatically.

“That they stand on the shoulders of giants.”