“Twilight,” I begin, “is something bothering you?”

I can see the ice slide down Twilight’s back. The filly that sits across from me stares, eyes wide, before putting on a smile. “I’m fine, Princess. Why?”

I want to tell her it’s because of the way her legs shake when she looks at me. I want to tell her that it’s because she’s been reading the same page in her text for ten minutes, scanning the same two paragraphs with an absentminded gaze. I want to tell her that it’s because I've seen this so many times before, to the point where I could predict this conversation down to the word. But I also want Twilight to trust me—and trust will never come from fear.

So, I just lean forward. “You just seem like you have something on your mind.”

She’s shaking her head again before I can even finish my sentence. “No,” she says. She's crushing her quill under her magical hold. “I’m just studying.”

Of course you are, my faithful student. You’re always studying. There isn’t a single topic out there you don’t have some knowledge of. I couldn’t be prouder of you.

You know that, right?

“Are you sure?” I pause. “Nothing happened in class today?”

She loses her breath. “Not much,” she manages, looking away.

“How did you do on that Equestrian History test you were telling me about the other day?”

Her eyes snap to mine.

Forgive me.

A whimper echoes from Twilight’s throat. She tries to speak, but bites her lip and presses herself into her seat, as if trying to erase herself from existence. I watch as she throws her face down, trying to hide the shame that’s now rolling down her cheeks.

I rise from my seat and walk to her side, where I drape a wing over her shoulders. She buries her muzzle into my side and wails, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry…”

“Sorry about what?” I ask, retrieving my poker face. It’s the same one I’ve used for three millenia. “What’s wrong?”

Her next few words spend a moment stuck in her throat, caught on what few shards of fear remain. I have to strain my ears to hear her sputter out, “I cheated.”

“I see. And why, exactly, did you cheat?”

“Because Lyra told me to,” Twilight mutters. “I was out sick for a week, and when I came back I had missed everything, and I tried to study, but there was just way too much, so Lyra told me to cheat. So I did. I copied all of Blue Belle’s answers, and I’m so, so sorry, and if you’re gonna expel me I’d understand, and…”

Lyra Heartstrings. I’ve been in the same room as that filly twice, and both times ended with me having a potato launched at my head. I’m not sure I could think of a worse influence for Twilight.

“But Twilight, you know that cheating is wrong.” I lean down to look her in the eye. “You know it’s wrong, and yet you did it anyway. Why?”

And it’s as she looks at me, chest heaving, hooves trembling, that an icicle stabs through my heart. Because I know exactly what she’s about to say. I’ve heard it hundreds of times before, from nearly as many fillies and colts.

“I didn’t want to fail,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to let you down.”

Of course.

I touch her chin with a wing. "You could never let me down, my little pony. You don't ever need to lie to me, or to cheat. Just being the best you can be is enough. I'll love you either way."

Twilight sobs again and presses herself into my chest, where I hold her until I hear her breaths steady, until I feel the tension escape her bones. I rock with her, until the fear leaves her.

And yet, even as she rests, all I can do is stare into the distance. I've been through this so many times before. Too many times before.

How I wish I could just let ponies relax around me. I wish that I could talk to them as freely as I once did my sister. I wish they would see me as a pony, and not as an icon, or a weapon, or a freak. Fillies like Twilight should never have to lie. All I want is their trust—her trust.

But I am Princess Celestia, and trust will never come from fear.