Acceptance

by Achaian

Glory, Hope, Madness

Glory, Hope, Madness

It was the very essence of glory.

Twilight had come to realize, through changes and trials, what is respect, appreciation, selflessness—the love that is friendship. After all, what had once been Nightmare had been astoundingly transformed, sublimely sanctified, redeemed from deathly despair, and she: she had been the key, the spark of it all. She had friends; she was not ashamed to say it and could hardly refrain from repeating it to herself, savoring the feeling and amazingness of the concept: she was enraptured. She was here, now, with her friends and mentor, in the greatest celebration she had ever known. It was a wave of bliss that rode through her, and through them all, and it only rebounded in their individuality to roll back over her and her friends once again. They had come back from the ruined castle more than they had ever been.

Twilight wandered in the reveling through the streets as her friends, her friends, talked and ran, celebrated; she was consumed in thought as usual, even when she conversed.

Did Celestia know that all of his would happen? Could I have even imagined? And it’s all just started… I have so much more to live now.

Twilight looked down the way and was almost dizzy with happiness. There was Celestia, who had not doubted her after all, and Luna—Luna! —who had been thought to be the fanciful vestiges of a myth by those who knew their history, and who had been the monster in the dark for so many centuries. She was present and enthroned with her sister at the end of the way, joyfully renewed, the two were tearful with silent joy. The longest night had given way to longest day; the sun was perihelion, the moon periselene, and they were in harmony, ordered and equal at last.

Yet there were yet flaws in paradise, subtle and sickening, and in four places they lurked like cracks, hidden, one day to seize and shake asunder. Twilight could not feel any of that now. They would not feel it in the celebration—not in the victory. She had paused for a moment and watched the celebration, but then went off to rejoin her friends. My friends, my friends! Celestia knew all along that this would happen! How could I ever doubt her? This is the best thing that has ever happened to me…

Even then, the celebration was not complete, not even with Twilight’s perfect amazement.

Throughout most of the town, the feelings were mostly the same. In every house the state was happy, and in every mind the rejoicing was paramount. For a short while, all but one buried their fears and sorrows, but the last one burned dreadfully. That last one stoked her ash into a fury and allowed it to paint her disposition and gave it command. The last one put on the terrible mental armor of strife and disgust, jealousy and distrust; and the price of wearing that dread was seeing it displayed on all others. Ditzy could feel no joy because she thought their joy could never be hers; she could not accept happiness as itself and so was exempt. She had sunk into maddening misery.

So she lay in her house and lay in her smoldering torments as well, and it took not long for her to boil over into hellish hatred, waiting for nothing and receiving nothing and becoming all the madder because of it. In bits and pieces she heard the news of how Twilight had found a way, had found friends, had found acceptance and happiness and all the things that had escaped Ditzy, and that only furthered her malicious mood. She had put on the armor of jealous wrath, and she could not take it off.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The hours passed; the cheer rescinded into quiet and the celebration wound slowly to an end as tired revelers traveled back into their houses, leaving the street eventually empty again. Twilight was the last to wander into her library from off the street, dazed and amazed at how the night and day had gone.

Twilight and her friends had found the Elements of Harmony.

And they had not just found the Elements, not just the symbols of those virtues, they were those virtues. They themselves were the harmony that had saved them all. And she, Twilight herself, was magic. It had been her life’s purpose, her passion; she lived for it and now she was the archetype of not merely magic, but the magic of friendship and all the good it had wrought in those profound six. It had all been destined for her, she had been chosen to be that unity. The beautiful love they had found would not pass from them.

Daylight had begun to fade again, but the promise was assured that it would rise in due time. Just inside the door of the library, Twilight sat and wondered for a moment at the books that lined the walls and attempted to imagine if there could be any among them that could match the bliss she had found, even though she knew she would be in vain. There could be no words to describe what she had found: no book’s solitude could match her friendship now. Has it only been a few hours since I discovered everything I’ve been missing!? I was so silly to turn them down! Silly Twilight. Silly me. It doesn’t even make logical sense! She resisted the urge to giggle ecstatically, caught up in her life-defining revelation, normally serious thoughts turned to simple, pure joy, and she could not cease smiling.

The door opened from the other room and Spike entered.

“Spike!” Twilight ran over and embraced him in something that she might call a hug, but he might categorize as more of a tackle.

“Oof! Twilight, what was that for?” He struggled and squirmed in her grip, but Twilight wouldn’t put him down, wouldn’t let go of him. Not until she had shown her love.

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Having friends? I told you so!” Spike squirmed again, clearly less than comfortable with the awkwardness of the embrace.

She put him down, her wide smile revealing her feelings on the matter. She could be no happier.

“I always told you it wasn’t a waste of time.” Spike huffed with his arms crossed, put off guard by the unexpected embrace and rolling his eyes.

“And you were right.” Twilight admitted cleanly, feeling no pain of or objection of pride in her blissful state.

“Speaking of friends, how did your apology with Derpy go?”

“Who?” Twilight asked, confused.

“You know, the pegasus with the messed-up eyes that dropped those letters the other day. I was talking about her with…”

The sinking feeling came again, and Twilight didn’t hear the rest of Spike’s explanation. Her thoughts turned into a different turbulent emotion altogether, as her smile shrunk into a somewhat negative statement and her eyes focused on something about a thousand yards away.

“Twilight?” Spike asked. He snapped his claw before her eyes, and she started. “What were you thinking about? You had your thinking look going.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Spike.” Twilight sighed; her words were neutral but her worried expression told a better tale.

“Alright, then.” Spike said dubiously. His gaze did not move from Twilight’s back as she retreated to her loft’s door, head bowed in introspection.

She was just so happy… it must be something about Derpy.

His concern for her only grew as time passed behind the door.

~~~~~~~~

The bitter taste of a moment’s failure tarnished Twilight’s enjoyment of her victory, enough to cause introspection in the midst of the celebration. Her head low, she paced just past the door until it boomed shut, ringing in her ears like a reminder of the night that had threatened not to end.

She stopped, in the exact spot that Ditzy had possessed, and stared up at her loft questionably.

How did I fail to help her?

Granted, it was before she had learned. She had certainly denied friendship to all of those who her here friends now, but they were all her friends now. She no longer had open conflictions in her life, with the exception of Ditzy. I’m supposed to be learning about friendship now, but what…

Was she meant to be in conflict with some others? She squashed the idea as quickly as it formed, knowing it to be a ludicrous idea, set against harmony and as discordant as discordant could ever be.

But what was wrong with Derpy? She didn’t look stable; it could be anything… I don’t know her; how do I start?

Caring and delving into individuals and their deep feelings was a new branch of reasoning for Twilight, and for an instant she struggled with it. If she had any problems, previously she would have simply denied them if what knowledge she had could not solve it, brushed them off or buried them in her books, all of which had proved to be ultimately futile. If she had problems now, she would bring them to her friends.

Maybe she hasn’t talked to her friends about her problems.

She turned toward the door and cracked it open. “Spike?” She yelled. “Does Derpy have any friends I could talk to?”

She got no reply; Twilight determined that Spike must be asleep by it. It had been a long day; they all deserved some rest. She closed the door again, gave a great sigh and turned toward her loft.

It was the wrong question, she realized. Does Derpy have any friends at all? It couldn’t be so; she had to have some friends. This was the friendliest place Twilight had ever been. It was not possible for her to imagine loneliness in that moment, and she found the idea that Ditzy was friendless worrisome.

Her eyes drifting out of her mind, she focused on her loft above and tried to imagine what it would have been like for Ditzy. Spike had said she had come in in a panic, searching everywhere for Twilight, but Ditzy herself had turned foul once she had found her. What was it that had so twisted her perception?

Twilight looking at the loft and bed and still-ajar window and imagined how she must have looked to Ditzy, gazing down in an imperially bored manner and struggling to compose an apology that’s delivery had been so misunderstood as arrogant boredom. It was a harsh judgment of herself, perhaps, but she was more ready to blame herself than others.

But what was Ditzy upset about in the first place? What made her want to find me so much? The root of Ditzy’s pain, the reason why the question had caused so much turmoil escaped her.

She wasn’t at the celebration, either. What had driven her away from the happiness that the town so enjoyed?

Am I going to go and find out? It’s late and I don’t know where she lives, I could spend all night out there and not find her…

Twilight paused on the stairs, an unforgiving choice before her. She could ascend into a well-deserved sleep, or she could descend into the unknown night in a vague and perilous attempt to figure out what was wrong with Ditzy. Self-preservation cried out for sleep, yet the lessons of harmony demanded she try to help. More rested on her decision than what she could know. Twilight would not be able to use austere reason in this case, but the warmth of how she felt would decide it for her. It was the edge of a blade, and if she balanced for an instant it would slice her in two as indecision would only cost them all more—

Twilight burst out of her loft’s door, determined to continue harmony at whatever cost. She would accept nothing less.

~~~~~~~~~

Spike was a bit smarter than most of his friends gave him credit for. He hadn’t hung around Twilight his whole life for nothing, after all, and he had absorbed no less than a huge quantity and quality of knowledge from being her always-present assistant. His little draconic brain had started whirling around his head the instant he had seen Twilight distressed, and he had come to the rather accurate conclusion that something had gone very wrong with her apology and it was perplexing her beyond means of immediate resolution. He, possessing more care for Twilight than he could ever admit while preserving his masculine dignity, had designed what he thought to be quite a clever plan to help her. He would leave while Twilight was consumed in thought (normally, those phases of hers lasted anywhere from hours to days) and investigate Ditzy.

It’s not really spying if I’m watching out for them. Both of them need help and they’re not going to get it if I don’t do anything. Twilight’s probably really tired and if I can find out something about Derpy it will make it easier for her.

In any case, Twilight had not heard the rap-tapping of his claw-feet as he slipped out of the library in the direction of where he had heard Ditzy lived. It was dark, though, and in the dark the storm-clouds had begun to gather and connive of a coming gale, a summer thunderstorm, and it would be sooner rather than later that it came.

~~~~~~~~~

“Spike!” Twilight called out, searching for her companion. She wasn’t about to leave without her most valuable assistant, of course. It would be ludicrous to go on her journey unprepared, even if it was just one across town. It’s going to storm soon; I had better get going.

But the searching, and the calling, and the thinking all left her with a lack of a particular dragon. At first, she had been convinced that he was sleeping in his room, but that avenue had abruptly ended, and all the others quickly ran short until she stood in the parlor, puzzled.

“Spike!” She called out louder, walking through the empty rooms of the house. “Are you around here somewhere?”

Echoes and silence replied.

“Spike?” It was the soft sound now, tentative with the hint of fear revealing the vast chasm of concern underneath. Where could he be this late? It’s not like him to go out and not tell me. He’s not out still; everypony went home and I’m sure I saw him…

She turned around, and the front door caught her attention: it was open just so, just slightly, and her eyes widened. It was the only remaining possibility. Twilight rushed out the front door, heedless of the coming storms, not even bothering to grab a lantern on the way out.

~~~~~~~~

A little window was in the rain, and the light flowed through it to the dragon’s eyes, hidden in the bushes like the bolt before it burst from the cloud. He was there, of course, to see what he could see about the pegasus who had so vexed Twilight, and he wasn’t about to run up to the front door and demand an answer. He had been there for a while now, and he knew it even as the storm rose around him, but he could not tear himself away from that scene in the little window, the little window into the uncharted life.

Even as the wind began to howl and tear, he watched.

It was a simple thing, really, no panorama nor endless horizon. A light purplish foal sat on the floor doodling away at some unseen drawing, building a door into a world of vibrantly free imagination. There was a couch by the foal, and on the couch was her mother, and the vibrancy of the drawing was countered by the deadened look in her eyes, gazing blankly up at the ceiling. Every so often the foal would clamber up upon Ditzy, her lips’ movements only understandable as silent signs to Spike, and would try to occupy her mother’s attention with the drawing. Ditzy would not look at the vibrant colors, and would softly murmur something to her daughter while ushering her back down with a gentle touch. The foal would not give up, and in time would climb up again, and again, each time being gently moved down without success: but that was not the entirety of the motion. For every time that her daughter would touch her, it was as if a spark jolted through her countenance and her eyes for a single moment would lose their decay. But she would not look at her daughter; she would not look at her vibrant drawing. She could not see them; she had forgotten happiness.

It was not long before Spike forgot why he was watching, so intrigued was he by the desperate unceasing spark and her drawing that he could not quite catch glimpse of. At least, until he realized that Twilight was standing right behind him and the bush in the now-pouring rain.

“Spike!” Twilight hissed, no shortness missing from her voice. “What are you doing out here in the rain hiding next to somepony’s house? You could have at least—”

He put a claw to her mouth and motioned for silence, then pointed Twilight’s gaze inside the window.

“You’re spying on her?” Twilight was more than slightly angry at Spike for running off.

“Ssh. Watch!” Spike whispered urgently, still consumed by the spectacle he had only the slightest understanding of.

“I can’t believe you would go and do something like this, and without telling me.” Twilight was heated the fact that Spike would just run out without telling her, and to do something like this in his absence just made it worse. I can’t believe you! You didn’t even tell me you were leaving! “You should know by now that you can’t just go around looking in—”

“Twilight!” Spike said strongly, an oddity that caught her off guard. “Just watch!”

Somewhat muffled by his response, Twilight complied for a moment. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

Inside the window, the foal and the drawing had ascended only to be put down again by Ditzy. Spike’s expression turned to impatience as Twilight’s remained blank; he could not find the words to express what had happened.

“Can’t you see, in her eyes, it’s like when… It’s like… She’s… what’s the word?” He stomped, growled quietly in frustration as the rain started to fall in torrents around them.

Twilight turned to him, and after a moment Spike reciprocated the gesture with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Oh, Spike.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if you run off and do crazy things like this. Come on, we need to get home; the storm is starting to pick up.” At least Derpy didn’t see us. I can’t imagine her thinking well of me after how we acted, and now we’re sitting outside her window in a storm…

Yet Spike showed no sign of submission; something had struck a chord in his mind.

“No!”

It had not been the words, but the way she uttered them. In that tone, there had been a hint of condescension, a hint that she did not consider him fairly, and even if she hadn’t meant it, it still grinded on his sense of rightness. It was the seed of contempt that would grow into a complete denial of Spike’s person left unchecked, and he saw it for what it was even in that early stage. He had heard it before and dismissed it as chance and coincidence; he had heard it again and become suspicious; now was his action. I’m not going to let you say no to this so soon! I was right about the friends!

“You’re not my mother, you’re my—” Spike caught himself, and Twilight gave him a curious look in the next instant. “But you can’t just leave her! Your apology didn’t work!”

“How did you know—” Twilight caught herself too late to save her private events, and that only caused a swell of unfocused anger. “Spike, we are going to have a long conversation about my privacy in the library.” Twilight moved to rise out of the bush, acidic emotion threatening to spill over out of the confines of her disgruntled mind.

“I didn’t see it, and I didn’t have to see it to tell what happened,” Spike said. “I could read it all over your face.”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight replied, not hearing a word Spike had said while disentangling herself from the bush. Her mind was already lost in a grumbling mood that promised to only sour as the clouds and night grew darker while they wandered their way home.

And then the window curtains slammed shut, but before they did Twilight caught a glimpse of a very displeased Ditzy looking at them lying half-inside in her bushes.

“Great. Just great.” Twilight put a hoof between her eyes, sighing and trying to rub away the fast-growing headache that was as imminent as the fact that the sun would rise in the morning. Of course, it nearly hadn’t.

“Didn’t you see her?” Spike insisted, extricating himself from a particularly nasty thorned area. “You need to go and try to apologize again!”

“I will do no such thing in the pouring rain after dark.” Twilight declared, brushing leaves off as the rain picked up.

“But why did you look here first?”

And then Twilight remembered why she had wanted to set out in the first place, and let out a short groan. Yes, a headache was definitely coming on. This is not the time; this is not the place...

“I can apologize in the morning when I’m not sopping wet and the sun is still in the sky.”

“It is in the sky.” Spike replied evenly. “We just can’t see it right now because it’s under the horizon.”

Twilight gave Spike the most unholy glare from her he had seen in a long time, but he held his pose and did not back down.

“Fine,” she said, completely exasperated. At least she could get Spike to be quiet when her apology was rejected, and after that she could get some sleep, at long last.

It was a short trip from the side to the front door of the house, but it seemed to take much longer to the two irritated minds that walked, side-by-side, through the void gloom. One was desperate, hoping with all his might that his instincts would not prove him wrong and cause a scar to open with his sometimes-sister. The other was growing fouler by the minute, no concern for others hidden in her mind, no, she was filled with the selfish interest that decried any delay for her own expectations; in her heart there was no room now. Twilight had been pushed too hard, and the magnificent lessons she had learned had had so little time to take root and flourish.

Before they both knew it, they were before the door, looking expectantly at it as if it would swing open of its own accord.

Twilight gave a final glance at Spike, and had to resist the urge to say something sarcastic when she saw the expectant look on his face.

He didn’t change, didn’t move, didn’t bend, but eventually Twilight did. With reluctance and a petulant tiredness, she knocked a hoof on the door.

There was a moment’s silence—then two—then the door opened and gave a hint of Ditzy, and rapidly slammed shut once more.

“Looks like it didn’t work.” Twilight announced, starting to turn. “Time to head home. This can be done at the proper time.”

“You didn’t even say anything!” Spike protested.

“She obviously doesn’t want to be bothered, or spied on.” Twilight replied, a particularly disapproving narrow glance on Spike.

Spike was nearly frustrated now beyond reason. He wanted to yell at her how she was acting no different than how she had been before she had discovered friends; Twilight had become as determinedly alone and unwilling to risk a chance of interaction. It was apathy—it was the despair that was the void of hope that a friend could be reality.

“You’re no different.” Spike growled low in his throat, quiet, poised in his stillness.

“What?” Twilight, having already taken a few fateful steps away.

“If you’re not going to apologize, then I will for both of us.”

Twilight halted, face hidden from Spike, and it was a long, cold, rain-soaked moment before she replied tonelessly.

“Suit yourself.”

She walked away, the night and rainfall’s cover of darkness stealing his sight of her away in moments.

Spike had the distinct feeling that he had lost a home. It ached inside him tormentingly—nothing definite, but his heart’s instinct was of consequences as he shivered. It was a vorpal blow between them, and as he tried to grasp it in his mind it only cut him more and intensified the pain, seemed all the more inevitable, a result of their actions that had ultimately differed. He could not bring himself to find comfort for his half of the deed, the splitting asunder of hearts and minds. I hope Twilight’s not too mad. I did this for her own good, and she thinks that I… I hope she realizes that I was just trying to do what’s right.

There was only one door left for him. The closed barrier provided him no comfort against the assails of his worries, but it was the only option he knew he could take.

With a deep breath in the freezing rain, he reached and knocked on the shut door. He waited in the silence ruptured by screaming blasts of the ice-water that was the rain. The chill-soaked, thunderous poundings of his bleeding heart ran with tension as the knocks faded into the storm.

The door opened, and threatened to close quickly again—but Spike was fast in his desperation and wedged a claw in the door before it could, condemning his senses to a load of pain that he was unaccustomed to, but giving him an instant to speak.

“I’m—” The pain was thudding in his veins, crippling his mind in the instant he needed it most; Ditzy would not open the door until it was clear that he would retract and not enter.

“I’m sorry for spying on you, and—”

The door swung open and Spike grasped his claw, falling into a sitting position and thankful for the immediate gratification that came with his release—yet the door did not swing shut once more. Rather, Ditzy herself stepped outside, her face no less angry than in the glimpses Spike had caught it, but with a curious backdrop to it… she would listen now, perhaps, give Spike an instant of her time to make amends as she stood over him, looking down…

But the shriek in the raining air caught them both off guard.

Comments

[Achaian]

No episode this Saturday? Bah. Perhaps I can help alleviate the emptiness.

1907811 Ditzy has a long and very troubled history. I'll admit she is unusually prone to violent acts (of the mind, mostly) but that is a product of many things. (I don't want to get to far into this in comments)

1904916 brool cory, sto.