The worst part of sleeping at the Ponyville Castle, Rarity decided, was when she was unable to get her beauty sleep. The worst part of not being able to get her beauty sleep, of course, was having to listen to the echoing of every hoofstep and the muted babbling of every conversation right outside of her bedroom door.
It was also the best part of not being able to get her beauty sleep.
Having her sleep disturbed always made the next day worse, of course. Unpleasant noises were louder, ugly colors stuck out more, and the sort of things which required focus – dress-making, for instance – felt exponentially harder. It wouldn’t be so bad if one noise didn’t keep her up just long enough to hear another, and so on, and so forth, until she had spent hours lying in her bed, exhausted and uncomfortable, unable to willingly push herself over the brink.
But sometimes it yielded the juiciest tidbits of gossip. Twilight and the rest of their friends never seemed to think that she might not actually be asleep when she had her door shut and all of her lights turned off. Of course, she was a responsible eavesdropper. Mostly. She hadn’t told anypony when Fluttershy had practiced reciting her little love poem in the hallway. She hadn’t said a single word when Twilight talked to Applejack about her crush. Which, come to think of it, was rather rude of her; out of all the ponies to discuss matters of love with, how could Twilight trust a boor like Applejack, but not a refined and educated mare like herself?
Still. Rarity was positive that Twilight never knew who sent her the parcel of somewhat suggestive photographs of her crush. Furthermore, Rarity was positive that even if Twilight did figure out who sent her the photos, she would not be able to figure out which photographer covertly took them – or who had paid the photographer to take them in the first place.
She had been most generous in assuring his silence, much as she had been generous in picking only the choicest photos to send to Twilight. She was positive that Twilight had appreciated the photographs, regardless of whether or not she would ever discuss them with anypony. Generosity, after all, was its own reward.
The clattering of hooves down the hallway interrupted her thoughts. Case in point: It was crass for anypony to run through the hallways during the evenings, but that hadn’t seemed to have deterred one of her friends at all. Still…
Swiveling one ear towards her bedroom door, Rarity listened to the hoofsteps. All of her friends had a different gait, even when running, and it wasn’t hard to pick one out from the other. Applejack’s heavy galloping couldn’t possibly be mistaken for Fluttershy’s delicate canter, or Pinkie Pie’s inelegant and uneven prancing. Rainbow Dash, of course, never bothered to run anywhere when she could fly. But this run was none of those. It was fast, but metronomic; a musical score could have been set to the tempo of the hoof falls.
Rarity removed her blinders, rubbed her eyes and sloughed off of her bed. Twilight Sparkle was second only to Fluttershy in respecting her need to sleep, and it was peculiar of her to charge haphazardly around in the middle of the night. Peculiar and exciting.
As quietly as she could manage, Rarity crept over to the door, opened it wide and peered down the hallway. Just in time, Rarity caught a glimpse of Twilight’s tail bobbing as she hurtled down the hallway, whipped around a corner and vanished.
Rarity followed, softening her gait so that it was almost silent; discretion was more important then speed, after all. Still, her lack of speed cost her: Rarity tailed Twilight down one hallway, then another, each time falling further away, until Rarity turned a corner and saw that Twilight had disappeared.
Ponies less familiar with the castle might have found themselves lost. Months of living in or around castle, however, had earned Rarity some semblance of familiarity with it. A little further down the hall, on the door to the right, was the great hall. If Twilight ran in there, Rarity thought, she’ll have wanted to call a meeting. Or the cutie map must have wanted her. One of the two.
But when Rarity looked through the door, Twilight wasn’t there.
So she wasn’t going to the great hall. But she couldn’t have dashed off to see one of the girls; this route would have been circuitous and unnecessarily long, and if one pony out of their group would avoid taking indirect routes, it was Twilight Sparkle. So it had to be something located close then the great hall. Storage, perhaps?
“…The antechamber library” Rarity whispered, a small smirk twitching onto her face. If there was one thing Twilight valued more then friendship, it was books; if there was one thing she valued more then books, it was research. But it was the still the middle of the night, so if something had caused her to run to the castle library at these hours...
“Twilight”, Rarity mused, “Whatever has caught your attention?” Surely, it wouldn’t be remiss to take a peek at what Twilight was doing. Friends should be open with what they did, of course; being dishonest was a most ungenerous thing to do, and keeping secrets – even if only for little things like these – was the height of dishonesty.
*****************************************
Twilight Sparkle, in Rarity’s opinion, should have been exactly the type of pony to always keep her workspace immaculate.
But tonight clearly disproved her assumptions. This library was a sty: opened books were strewn over the floor, diagrams with incomprehensible symbols were haphazardly tacked onto the walls and piles of papers clumped up on most of the available walking space. At the center of it all was Twilight; with bags under her eyes, and with mane completely askew, she was telekinetically lifting a large stack of papers in the air in front of her and, quill in mouth, scribbling over one of the pages like mad.
She looked far beyond suspicious, Rarity decided. She looked dangerously obsessed, teetering on the verge of insane, and a proper explanation was in order. Clearing her throat loudly, Rarity stepped into the room.
“Twilight?”
Twilight gasped and spun to face Rarity. The quill fell out of her mouth as her concentration lapsed, and the stack of papers fell, scattering into dozens of leaflets strewn over the floor.
“I-I-I-I-I. I. Rarity?” Twilight gasped, horror spread over her face as her eyes flicked back and forth between Rarity and the cluster of fallen papers.
“Darling! I’m so, so sorry about that. Here, let me help-“
“No! It’s okay!” Twilight chirped, eye twitching as she lifted the scattered pages off of the floor. “I made sure that the hue of each of the different selection of notes that I was using was different, and numbered both sides of every page. It’ll honestly be more helpful if I clean this up myself.” Twilight began humming as she hovered pages off of the floor and began restacking them in a pile.
Rarity peered at the stacks of paper on the floor. “Darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but these two stacks are both eggshell.”
“No, no! They’re not!” Twilight piped as she scrabbled more pages into the pile. “The one on the left is off-white. I checked.”
“Twilight, I dare say that I’ve spent a fair share of my life examining color swatches, and these are both eggshell. And the three stacks of paper that you had in front of you are all ivory, but now you’ve gone and mixed some of them together.”
“Rarity, I haven’t-“
“Twilight. Read me the contents of page 9, please?”
Twilight cleared her throat as she lifted one page in front of her. “Self-actualizing paradox may occur as a result of attempting to manifest multiple self-entities over the course of psychological jaunting, as a result of duplicating internal structure without allowing for an external body to differentiate different factors; see also equation #9.2 and equation #12.4 to verify-“
Twilight gasped, eyes flicking up to Rarity as her mouth snapped shut.
“…Twilight?” Rarity probed. “What exactly have you been working on down here?”
“I can’t tell you”, Twilight mumbled, setting the stack of papers down on the floor and averting her eyes.
“Darling? You most certainly can. I dare say that part of the responsibility of being a good friend is openness and communication. And when you’ve distressed yourself to the point of virtually ruining your appearance and your surroundings-“
“They’re not that bad-“
“Twilight, have you LOOKED in a mirror recently? Apologies for any offense, darling, but you’re rather…unkempt.”
Twilight shook her head.
“I don’t happen to have a compact on me”, Rarity huffed, “But surely you must have a mirror around here SOMEWHERE.”
“Well…” Twilight trailed off. “...Right! I did have one relocated to the library recently, when I was researching mundane detection techniques against Malkavian drinkers. It should be behind the bookcase facing true east.”
“…Malkavian what?”
“I’ll tell you about them later”, Twilight replied, telekinetically moving the bookshelf out of place and pulling out a leg-sized mirror. “There hasn’t been a sighting of any in Equestria since-“
Twilight fell silent as she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
“Do you see what I mean?” Rarity sighed.
“…I guess I’ve been somewhat distracted, haven’t I?” Twilight mumbled.
“I’d call this more then merely distracted, Twilight. I’d call this running yourself absolutely ragged, and I’m positive that nothing that you could be working on is more important then getting rest.”
Twilight set the mirror down and shook her head. “This is the POINT, Rarity. I need to be able to finish this before I get any rest.”
“What could you possibly be working on, then?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
“You can, and you will. Otherwise, I dare say that I’ll wake up the rest of the girls, and we’ll all have a nice chat about-“
“NO!” Twilight shouted as she scrambled over to the door. “Please, Rarity, you can’t.”
“Then what can this, ah… ‘self-actualizing paradox’, I do believe. What could it be about?”
Twilight bit her lip as she turned to face Rarity, staying silent for a second or two. Then, head drooping, Twilight sighed.
“Promise you won’t wake up everypony if I tell you?”
Rarity shook her head. “I can’t promise you that, darling. Not until you tell me exactly what it is you’ve been researching, anyway.”
“I was just…” Twilight faltered. “…I thought I would tell everypony in the morning, and make it be a happy surprise. I’ve been working on it for days and days, and I just thought now about how to finish the equations, so I thought I could take care of the problem now, and…really impress everypony when we were all having breakfast together.”
“So you didn’t want to tell us because…?”
“I didn’t want to wake you up!”
“Twilight. We both know that I meant ‘why haven’t you told us about it before?’ “.
Twilight sighed. “It’s…I know you and everypony else would have tried to stop me. You would have thought that it was a bad idea.”
“That’s not exactly a good start, darling.”
“But I know what I’m doing! I looked over historical accounts, I did my research on alicorn biochemistry and thaumaturgy. I mapped out all the equations and triple-checked them to make sure the spell would go off properly-“
“Twilight, WHAT Spell?”
“The spell to defeat myself once and for all!”
Silence overtook the room.
“…Do come again?” Rarity sputtered.
Twilight’s eyes shone with something frenetic: a manic, exhilarated edge far beyond the tilt of sanity. “It’s simple. You’re familiar with Nightmare Moon, right?”
“I…yes, but I don’t understand what you’re getting at, darling.”
“If Princes Luna became Nightmare Moon due in part to severe psychological stress, it stands to reason that there has to be some sort of mental component involved in the process of becoming a nightmare…something. Now, obviously, everypony can’t be at risk for that, or the world would be running rampant with nightmare ponies, and I KNOW that most of us have been put under rather intense duress, right?”
“…well-“
“Exactly” Twilight continued. “So it’s got to be some unique – or semi-unique factor – related to her. I thought about what sort of aspects might trigger that sort of response for a long time – connection with the moon, or devotion and lack therof of subjects – and none of it made sense. I mean, until I stepped back a few days ago and thought of the most obvious thing.”
“Which was?”
“ALICORNS. It’s got to be something due to the way that Alicorn cranial physiology works. Which, I should point out, is a largely untapped field of research. There’s so much to learn about how they – we – I– work, and it’s going to be so exciting to find it all out!” Twilight giggled, bouncing up and down in glee. “But I’m going to assume the nightmare-ish component has something to do with how Alicorns work. And the correlation with it lines up! I don’t think Princess Celestia or Princess Cadence have suffered from the sort of conditions that trigger this – but they’re certainly the individuals closest enough in terms of body functionality. I mean, this is all given that I’m working with a small pool of data. If I could run a few more tests, this would be a VASTLY more interesting and involved study, but I suppose this is how great researchers are supposed to begin!”
Twilight beamed, unfazed by the uncomfortable look on Rarity’s face.
“…So.” Rarity began. “What you’re going to do is…”
“Oh! Well, since it applies to ME, since I’m also an Alicorn, I’m putting everypony else at risk because I exist. But after our encounter with the Tantabus, I realized that negative emotions can interact with dreams, and dreams can interact with reality. And the process can be reverse-engineered! It’s just a simple application of dream logic and the thaumaturgical sciences. So I just need to cast the right spells before I fall asleep, go into my own dream and defeat my latent nightmare self before she ever wakes up and possesses me.”
Rarity’s jaw fell open. It took her four seconds to realize that it had dropped, and her attempt to shove it back in place with her hoof caused her teeth to click together, breaking the silence.
“Amazing, right?” Twilight beamed.
“wh-NO. That is a…a PHENOMENALLY stupid idea, for so many reasons. You’re going to enter your own brain-“
“Princess Luna did it before.”
“YES. And it worked out rather POORLY for her, until her friends – us – intervened.”
“Well…maybe she just didn’t think about the variables as much as I did! I mean, I made absolutely sure that this would be completely foolproof-“
“And if it fails?”
“I prepared contingency spells! Lots and lots of them.” Twilight said, gesturing towards the stacks of papers scattered across the floor. “Most of them are supposed to work from inside the dream, in case I’m feeling desperate. But I layered a few counterspells that should function independently of my REM cycle. Even assuming absolutely everything else goes wrong, I should still have a way to wake myself up.”
“And if your “nightmare self” simply opts to kill you instead?”
“That, ah…wouldn’t happen, right? I mean, it’s the sort of thing that wouldn’t have been tried before, I mean…”
“You don’t know for sure.”
“I don’t know for sure.” Twilight chewed her lip and looked at the floor.
“Then…regardless of the fact that you’re going it at all, why is it important to go NOW? Charging haphazardly into life-threatening situations without having planned everything out in advance isn’t like you, Twilight.”
“I don’t have any time-“
“Clearly, you have at least a little.”
“That’s…What I mean is…ugh.” Twilight huffed, scratching her forehead. “What I mean is, ah. How was yesterday?”
Rarity arched an eyebrow. “Silly distractions won’t get you anywhere, darling.”
“It’s related! I promise! It’s just…did anything bad happen yesterday?”
“…Not that I’m aware of?”
“It doesn’t have to be major, Rarity. It could be something like having a hard time thinking up a design for a dress, or maybe Rainbow Dash was annoying, or…”
“As far as I can tell, Rainbow dash behaved no more poorly today than she usually does.” Rarity paused. “…Though I suppose Applejack has been bothering me, as of late.”
“Oh?”
“It’s not entirely your business, darling. But yes – I feel as if she has been keeping secrets from me, much as you have been doing. It’s dishonest and unfair – particularly as she’s supposed to be the Element of Honesty, after all.”
Rarity was pleased to see Twilight’s cheeks flush.
“Ah…” Twilight gulped, then rallied. “I’m sure that if she is, she probably has a good reason for it. But anyway…ah. That’s what I mean, anyway. You were annoyed, right?”
“I’m still annoyed, Twilight.”
“And that’s a negative emotion, right?”
“…Yes?”
“So if you take that, and…maybe if your breakfast burned a few days earlier, or if you realized that one of your dress ideas wasn’t working out the way you wanted it to, and you had to start over from scratch-“
“Those would all be negative emotions, yes, but-“
“So they add up! Those things add up, day after day, and there isn’t all that much we can do about it. And if the nightmare…thing, if it’s based on negative emotions, then it grows stronger every day it’s inside me. And what happens if I can handle it now, but I can’t handle it later?”
“…I don’t know”, Rarity mumbled.
“What if I won’t be able to defeat my darker side in a year? What if I won’t be able to do it in a month? A week? I have no idea how much longer I’m going to be stronger then it, Rarity. I’ve done as much as I can, and I don’t think I can do any more, but every day that I waste on other things is a day that could be the difference between…”
Silence. In the cluster of moments that followed, neither pony looked the other in the eye.
Rarity broke the silence first. “All of those would really add up, darling?”
“The big ones and the small ones. Every last bit of sadness or disgust or anger or ressentiment. Don’t you think that it wasn’t a sudden thing for her? It must have felt like it was a long time coming, the moment when…you know.”
Rarity nodded. “And you think this will happen to you?”
“I think the question is when. Unless I try to do something about it. Which, I mean…” Twilight dipped her head towards her notes. “That’s sort of what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Rarity looked at the stacks of notes and sighed.
“…It makes sense, right?” Twilight asked.
“Yes. Yes, it does. Unfortunate as it may be, your logic…” Rarity trailed off. “…I wish I could have more time to think about this, though. Are you sure-“
“Every day-“
“-Yes. That’s what I thought.” Rarity sighed again. “And I’ll assume that the other reason you told none of us was because we would delay you, if not try to stop you.”
“Correct.”
“Then why can’t we go with you, darling? I’m sure that everypony else would be willing to listen. If we didn’t help a friend in need, what kind of friends would we be?”
Twilight’s face sagged, and her shoulders slumped. In seconds, she looked as if she grown many seasons older. “I thought about that, too. It was one of the first things that I thought of, asking everypony to help me with this. I thought that if it helped Princess Luna, it’d help me, too.”
“Wouldn’t it?”
Twilight shook her head. “Princess Luna beat the problem on her own, as soon as she thought about it a little. All we did was make it worse. We gave the Tantabus room to grow, let it creep into the dreams of everypony in Ponyville. If you and everypony else shows up with me, then it could put you in danger. Or it could feed off of your negative emotions and grow even stronger. Or it could split itself off into clones, one for each of you. Or a million other things.”
“But we could help, too.”
“You could. Things could be easier if you came with me. But they could be harder, too. They could be impossible. I know that I can handle what my other self throws at me, but if you girls showed up, then I don’t know if I could. And this is the sort of thing that I really, really don’t want to mess up. It’s not any of you, I promise.”
Something hollow had sunk beneath Twilight’s irises: a raw, exhausted ache that cried desperately for resolution.
“I need to do this”, Twilight pleaded. “I need to keep everypony safe.”
One second lapsed into several as Rarity stared at Twilight, her expression indecipherable and neutral. At last, Rarity exhaled and shook her head.
“You still won’t be able to keep everypony safe from your horrible appearance, Darling.”
Confusion creased Twilight’s brow for a second, before her face split into a grin.
“You really…you’re okay with this?”
“Oh, well I’m certainly not ENDORSING it, Twilight”, Rarity scoffed with a smirk. “I’m simply not saying anything more on the matter. But on an unrelated note, whenever you finish with…whatever endeavor that we may or may not have discussed, you’re going to have a serious makeover.”
“Absolutely, Rarity. Thank you. THANK you. I promise you, you’re not going to regret a thing.” Twilight bounced up and down with glee, and a large hunk of mane fell in front of one of her eyes.
Rarity winced. “I already am, for multiple reasons. Of course, I’m not sure I could dissuade you even IF I didn’t trust you, but you seem to have thought this through thoroughly. More to the point – I trust you, Twilight.” Rarity rested a forehoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “And when I wake up in the morning, I expect that you’ll be honest with us from now on about these sorts of things, okay?”
Twilight nodded, eyes shining.
“And seriously – I expect you to do something with your mane, at the very least. Fatigued or not, darling, it doesn’t become you to masquerade as a crime against nature.”
Twilight sheepishly shoved her mane away from her eyes. “So, uh, then…is there anything else that you wanted?”
Rarity shook her head. “I suppose I could reprimand you for disturbing my beauty sleep, but I’m willing to expand my discretion to one more topic of conversation. I’ll make myself scarce for now.” Rarity turned to leave, paused, then turned back around to look at Twilight.
“Make us all proud, darling.”
Twilight nodded, still grinning, and turned back to her papers. And Rarity, with a lighter heart, turned and exited the library. With a light heart, she passed the great hall; with a light heart, she snaked from one hallway to the next, and with a light heart felt genuine fatigue settle into her joints.
It was only when she crossed the threshold to her bedroom that Rarity wondered whether or not she had done the right thing. Despite Twilight’s assurances to the contrary, there was something off-putting about her urgency to go alone. Her logic was sensible, with no obvious flaw. And Rarity knew that Twilight, no matter the method or the cause, would always try to do the right thing.
As she climbed on top of her bed, Rarity’s legs felt like unworked stone; like the bottom of a pond, her head felt murky and unclear. Even as sleep struggled to claim her, her mind struggled back, until it coalesced into one last question:
Why do I feel as if I’ve forgotten something?
Then Rarity’s head fell against the pillow, and the dark beneath her eyelids swallowed up the world around her.
******************************************
The worst part of sleeping at the Ponyville Castle, Rarity decided, was when she was unable to get her beauty sleep. Case in point: Once again, hooves clattered down her hallway, and muffled voices babbled and shrieked behind her door. Having to listen to this sort of nighttime discourtesy even once was unseemly. Twice, though – that was rude beyond measure. Had Twilight Sparkle no respect whatsoever for courtesy?
Her, or whoever it was, deserved a piece of mind. Rarity rubbed at her face and opened her eyes-
Light. It was painfully light in the room. Scrunching her eyelids shut, Rarity dabbed at her face with her forehoof. The blinders weren’t there; she had forgotten to put them back on before she fell asleep again. Slowly, Rarity opened her eyes once more, gradually acclimating them to the room.
Sunlight. She must have slept until daytime. A reasonable amount of rest, if not as much as she would have liked.
“I suppose I’ll have to catch up on sleep some other time. Hopefully uninterrupted”, Rarity groused as she pulled herself out of bed and turned towards the door. Would it kill any of her friends to ask themselves-
“Where’s Spike?”
Even through the door, Rarity could tell that it was Fluttershy’s voice.
“In the library.” The second voice unmistakably belonged to Applejack. “Ah needed him to go through her papers. Ah sent Rainbow Dash after him, too, to keep him focused”
“A-and Pinkie Pie?”
“Goin’ through Twilight’s room. Ah figured that if she had anythin’ else that might be important, it’d be in there.”
Fluttershy said something, but the doorway rendered it inaudible. The bottom began to sink out of Rarity’s stomach as she crossed the floor.
“Don’t fret none, alright?” Applejack piped up again. “It ain’t gonna do us no good to just stand around here worryin’. I need you to go fetch Nurse Redheart as quick as you can. Ah’m gonna head back to the farm and root around n’ the family remedy cabinet, n’see if maybe there’s somethin’ there that can help us.”
“Is something wrong?” Rarity asked as she opened the door. Fluttershy and Applejack turned to stare at her from the hallway. Fluttershy trembled, eyes wide with fear and surprise as she stared at Rarity. Applejack, however, looked furious.
“Oh. Looks like SOMEpony finally decided to wake up”, Applejack snarled. “Or did you figure that you wanted to get more beauty sleep in, n’we were making too much of a ruckus-“
“Where’s Twilight?”
Fluttershy gasped and skittered back a couple of steps. Applejack’s face morphed from anger to surprise to confusion.
“How in the hootenanny-“
“Feminine instinct. Is she in the library?”
“Yeah, but-“
Rarity ran. Applejack’s voice faded as she turned a corner, then another, barely aware of the sound of her breathing, barely aware of the stretching of hallway or the vastness of the great hall or anything else until the library door loomed in front of her. Gritting her teeth, Rarity flung the door wide.
There was Spike, curled up on the floor, and there was Rainbow Dash, flapping in place as she rested a hoof on Spike’s shoulder, and they looked at her and said words of surprise as she ran into the room
and none of it mattered, because what mattered was Twilight Sparkle
and Twilight Sparkle was sprawled like an unstuffed ragdoll in the middle of the library
and Twilight Sparkle’s eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving or breathing at all.
Rarity sat near the foot of Twilight’s bed, sketching lines onto a blank piece of paper.
Every twenty seconds, Rarity looked up. Twilight lay on the bed in the exact same way that she had laid on the bed since her friends found her in the library. No matter who sat by her bed, she hadn’t moved at all.
She hadn’t moved when Nurse Redheart showed up. She didn’t respond to any of Nurse Redheart’s treatments. She hadn’t responded to any of Applejack’s family remedies. When Princesses Celestia and Luna and Cadence arrived and cast all the spells they could think of, Twilight hadn’t responded. If Twilight had cast any contingency spells, she hadn’t responded to them.
Twilight lay on the bed, eyes closed, not moving. A small mask above her mouth hissed, and Rarity could see Twilight’s chest rise and fall in short, abrupt motions, perfectly in time with the mask’s hissing. The mask moved Twilight in ways she was no longer capable of moving herself. For two days, save for the compression and release from the mask, Twilight had not moved at all.
Rarity turned back to her piece of paper, and had sketched precisely three more lines when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in”, Rarity said without looking up.
Rarity heard the rattling of the doorknob, the squeaking of door hinges and the pattering of clawed feet.
“Rarity?”
“Hello, Spike”, Rarity replied without looking up from her papers.
“How did you know it was-“
“Feminine intuition.” Rarity sighed. “I suppose it’s your turn to watch over Twilight, then?”
“Y-yeah. Uh. I mean, if you didn’t want me to be here, then…”
“It’s okay, Spike”, Rarity replied, telekinetically collecting her pencil and papers and lifting them in the air. “I suppose that it would do me good to leave for a while and…mingle, as it were.”
“Rarity?”
“Yes, Spike?” Rarity replied, turning to face him. Spike teetered as he hobbled closer, carrying a huge stack of papers. “Ah! Would you like me to help you with those?”
“I think I’ve got it. Thanks, though.” Spike crossed the distance towards Rarity and dropped the stack of papers to the ground with a solid whumpf. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted help with your stuff.”
Rarity shook her head and gave Spike a wan smile. “My little Spikey-Wikey. Such a gentledragon, aren’t you?”
Spike blushed. “Well, it’s just that…I-it’d be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
“To offer, yes. And I do appreciate you asking me. But, as you can see, I’ve got my affairs quite handled.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Perhaps we can catch up later, then?”
“W-well…” Spike gulped. “Actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you. I-if you could stay with me for a bit.”
Rarity bit her lip. “Ah…perhaps some other time, darling? I’ve got work to attend to.”
“Maybe I could help with it?”
“It’s not the sort of thing you could help with, Spike. I’m sorry.” Rarity’s voice took on a hard note, firmer then iron. “One’s creative affairs are one’s own. If there’s something I believe you can help me with, I’ll gladly ask you, but-“
“Rarity.”
“Yes, Spike?”
“Nopony blames you, you know.”
There was nothing about Spike’s words to suggest contempt, and nothing in his face to suggest anger. Neither of those facts stopped his words from stinging like a slap to the face. Rarity’s lips pursed into a line, and it was a couple of seconds before Rarity spoke.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Spike, but if you’ll excuse me-“
“They DON’T, Rarity. I promise.”
Rarity shook her head. “Of course they do, Spike. And if they didn’t, they should. I would, if I were them.”
Rarity turned her head back to look at Twilight.
“…Even if nopony else blames me, I blame myself. Somepony has to take responsibility for this.”
“If it’s nopony’s fault, then-“
“It IS, Spike. It’s MINE. If you’re trying to play the gentledragon, it’s not going to work” Rarity snapped, walking towards Spike. “I’d rather not discuss this right now, as there are better things for both of us to be-“
Something out of view caught her hoof. Her field of view tilted as she overbalanced, then fell to the ground with a thud. Her focus waned, and her pencil and papers followed suit, the sound of wood clattering against wood and the fluttering of pages filled the away.
“Rarity!” Spike yelled. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Spike”, Rarity muttered as she pulled herself upright. Then she looked down to collect her sketches, and a choice expletive tumbled out of her lips. It wasn’t a mug or a stuffed doll that she had tripped over, but Spike’s stack of papers, which had scattered and slid all over the floor in a haze.
“Look at what I’ve gone and done”, Rarity moaned. “Spike, I’m so sorry.”
“I-it’s okay! As long as you didn’t get hurt, I mean.” Spike glanced down at the pile of sheets spread across the floor, and bent down to start shoving some of the pages back into a larger pile.
“I’ll be okay, Spike. Here, let me help you.” Rarity lifted one page into the air, then another. Page 108 and page 8. Rarity groaned. “And now I’ve gone and mixed the whole thing up. I suppose I’ll have to stay and help, then.”
“I mean, if you really have to go, then you can go”, Spike blustered. “It was kind of a mess to begin with, so I don’t think you have to worry about sorting them too much.”
“Sorting what?” Rarity picked up another page. The writing on it was articulated, but cramped almost to illegibility.
Self-actualizing paradox may occur as a result of attempting to manifest multiple self-entities over the course of psychological jaunting, as a result of duplicating internal structure without allowing for an external body to differentiate different factors; see also equation #9.2 and equation #12.4 to verify-
“Twilight’s Notes”, Spike replied, snapping Rarity out of her reverie.
Rarity blinked, and read the page again.
“I don’t understand…” Rarity muttered.
“I know.” Spike sighed. “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna already looked at them, but they weren’t able to figure it out, either.”
“They didn’t take the notes with them?”
Spike paused. “They were notes?”
“Of course they were notes. What else would they be?”
“Well, I mean…I guess it’s probably the sort of thing Twilight would write, but none of us could figure it out. It’s kind of, uh…”
“A mess?”
Spike nodded, shoulders sagging. “I don’t get it. She’s normally really clear when she writes, so we kind of thought that she was writing in a different language, or in runes or something. But nothing added up.”
“And none of you tried squinting?”
“I mean – yeah, we did, but we still didn’t understand it. Do you know?”
“Any given page? I have no idea what this …’psychological jaunting’ is supposed to refer to, so no. I hope you weren’t bringing all of those up here just to ask.”
“Well, I sort of figured I’d try to put them back together. I mean, there’s got to be some particular way of doing it. Princess Celestia tried doing them all by page number, but there were a lot of different Page Ones and Page Twos and stuff, and none of it looked like it obviously connected to anything else. And then there were all the equations and stuff…” Spike sighed. “The answer’s probably in here somewhere, but I don’t think anypony knows how to find it. And the princesses had princess-y things to do, so…”
“Do you think that’s why they left the notes here with you?”
“Maybe? I guess? I mean, somepony has to figure this out. And everypony else in the castle is just as lost as I am.” Spike shrugged. “They kind of have things to do, too, but…”
“And you didn’t think to ask me before?” Rarity replied, rolling her eyes.
“I did! I just didn’t think you’ld want to be…disturbed? You’ve been kind of not around all that much since this happened. And I thought you, um. You needed a bit of space, since…”
Rarity sighed. “Point taken. I suppose it was a bit unfair of me to object, wasn’t it?”
Spike shook his head. “It’s okay. You’ve been…I mean, it’s understandable, anyway. This thing, and you, and…yeah.”
Nearby, a clock ticked. A brief silence settled, punctuated only by the hissing from Twilight’s mask.
Spike gulped. “So, uh. You can help?”
Rarity looked at the disheveled slew of papers and indulged herself in a small, self-satisfied smirk. “At least a little. Should I assume that nopony bothered to check the colors of the pages?”
“You mean white?”
“Well, perhaps the page 108, over…there, see it?...That page is pure white, yes. But the page that I’m holding on to is clearly eggshell, like the page that I dropped over there – page 8, yes?”
Spike blinked. “Uh…”
“…They all look white to you, don’t they.”
“Kind of.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, if I started sorting these by color, then perhaps we could get somewhere.” Rarity’s horn glowed as she lifted errant pages off of the pile and set them down into new stacks on the floor: two, three, four…
“Uh.” Spike scratched the back of his neck. “Is there any way that I could help?”
Rarity shook her head. “If you can’t tell the difference between the page colors, then I’m not sure you can. I’m sorry, Spike.”
“Well, maybe I could help sort the stacks? By page number, or something? Would that help?”
Rarity paused, page held suspended in the air as she blinked at Spike, before breaking out into a genuine smile. “Yes. That would be quite useful, actually.”
*********************
When Applejack entered Twilight’s room, she found Rarity and Spike pouring over Twilight’s notes, lost in discussion.
“So what about the diagrams on this pile?” Spike asked, gesturing to a stack of papers. “Do you think they belong to the first set, or the second one?”
“Do they have that odd triangle symbol on them?” Rarity replied.
“Well, yeah. But they’ve got the little ‘o’s with a line coming off of the top, too.”
“Hm. Put them in the intermediate pile, then. We’ll worry about reorganizing them when-“
Applejack cleared her throat. Rarity and Spike looked up at her.
“What’n the hay are you workin’ on, Spike?” Applejack demanded.
“Uh.” Spike said, looking around at the sea of half-sorted pages around him. “Organizing?”
“Organizing.”
“Well, I thought that maybe if I could sort them out, then maybe that would help with things, and we’d be able to figure out what was going on.”
Applejack shook her head. “Still at it, huh?”
“Well, Rarity-“
“-Is doing her best to help”, Rarity interrupted. “Thank you very much. Is there something you wanted, Applejack?”
Applejack’s face went from concerned to icy in seconds. “No. I don’t reckon there was. Didn’t you have some dresses that needed to be fancied up or somethin’?”
“Perhaps there are. But it can wait. I’m currently occupied.” Rarity lifted a couple of pages of paper and pointed them at Applejack. “Unless you’ld care to help us?”
“Ah don’t figure it’ll do any good. Just like how it didn’t do any good for the princesses. But if you’re too darn stubborn or stupid to ignore things right in front of your face, then-“
“I-if you don’t think you can help, it’s okay! Really!” Spike interjected, glancing back and forth between the two ponies. Rarity glared murderously at Applejack, who returned the glare evenly.
Finally, Rarity took a shuddering breath. “If you don’t wish to help, Applejack, you are not required to. I believe we are fine on our own.”
“Alright.” Applejack nodded. “Spike. You don’t stop watchin’ over Twilight, okay?”
“He HAS been”, Rarity interrupted.
“Ah didn’t ask you, Rarity”, Applejack spat.
“Guys! Stop it!” Spike yelled, scrambling to his feet and interposing himself between the two. “I’ve been watching her, Applejack. I promise! Really!”
Applejack turned to stare at Spike, then nodded. “Fair enough. Ah’ll be off, then. Take care, Spike.”
“Okay. Uh, I mean, I’ll see you later, Applejack.”
“Yeah. I reckon you will.” Applejack spun on her hooves and slowly walked out of the room, pausing when she had crossed the threshold to reach back with one of her hindlegs and kick the door shut. The resulting BANG made Rarity wince, and the force of the kick made the door rattle on its hinges.
Neither Spike nor Rarity moved or spoke for a couple of seconds. Finally, Rarity picked up a page from the unsorted pile and cleared her throat.
“They don’t blame me, hmm?”
Spike sighed. “Well…maybe a little.”
“I’d consider that an understatement, at the very least. Still – I appreciate the attempt to spare my feelings. Thank you, Spike.”
“But-“
“THANK you, Spike. That will be all.”
Rarity placed her paper on a stack – eggshell to eggshell – and continued to sort, conspicuously avoiding Spike’s gaze. Eventually, she heard him sigh, followed by the shuffling of papers, and the room lapsed into silence as the two resumed work.
*****************
Rarity set the last page down, sighed in relief and looked at the clock. Another hour had passed, but the job was finally done.
“Finished!” Rarity called out as she turned to face Spike. The dragon was still hard at work, removing sheets from one pile and adding them to another, but the stacks had grown noticeably tidier since Applejack had interrupted their work.
“Spike?” Rarity said again. “Would you care to take a break?”
The dragon started, then turned to face Rarity, still grasping a page in one claw. “Huh? But there’s still work to do.”
“Well – yes, of course there is. But I can take over for you. It’s time for dinner, after all, and I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”
“I’m not-“
The rest of Spike’s protest was interrupted by a loud Rrrrrrmmmbllllll from his stomach. Spike blushed and stared at the floor, teasing two of his claws together.
“…Hungry”, he finished.
Rarity smirked. “I dare say that you are, darling.”
“N-no! I’m not! I’m fine! Totally not hungry at all-“
“Spike.”
The dragon gulped. “…Okay. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”
Rarity chuckled. You should have dinner, Spike. I’ll just finish up after you, and we can examine these properly when you come back.”
“You aren’t going to eat dinner with us?”
“It wouldn’t hurt me to miss a meal or two, Spike. A proper lady must take care of her figure, after all, and I wouldn’t want to accidentally slip into overindulngence.”
“I dunno, Rarity. I still don’t feel good about letting you just stay up here, you know?”
“Well - I can always find myself something to eat after all of this is done. Would that make you feel better?”
“A little”, Spike admitted with a nod. “Maybe I could bring you something?”
Rarity quirked an eyebrow. “And what were you planning on bringing?”
“Well, uh…I was going to have some hay fries, I guess?”
Rarity shook her head. “Ooooh. Probably not a good idea, darling. That would absolutely devastate my complexion, and I’d probably spend more time fussing over the aftermath then I’d gain from your help. I appreciate the act of chivalry, however.” Rarity added, leaning down and pecking Spike on the cheek. Spike flushed bright red, a dazed expression on his face.
“Go!” Rarity chirped, making shoo-ing motions with her hoof. “I’ll be fine.” Though the blush lingered, the stupor on Spike’s face gave way to a tremendous grin. Spinning on his heels and giggling like mad, Spike trotted out of the room.
It wasn’t until Spike left the room that Rarity sighed and picked up the first page from a stack of sorted papers. She would have to sort the rest eventually, of course, but it was important that she learn as much as she could while Spike was gone. There wouldn’t be time for it later, not after they had finished sorting; Spike would probably want to hand over the notes to Princess Celestia, and everything would be over.
Princess Luna beat the problem on her own, Twilight had said, as soon as she thought about it a little. All we did was make it worse. We gave the Tantabus room to grow, let it creep into the dreams of everypony in Ponyville. If you and everypony else shows up with me, then it could put you in danger. Or it could feed off of your negative emotions and grow even stronger. Or it could split itself off into clones, one for each of you. Or a million other things.
Princess Celestia would probably want to go inside of Twilight’s head. So would Princess Luna, and so would all of her friends. Friends who had anxieties and issues of their own. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, Princesses of supreme power and, conversely, supreme danger. For that matter - Princess Luna, the original Nightmare Moon.
Things could be easier if you came with me. But they could be harder, too. They could be impossible. I know that I can handle what my other self throws at me, but if you girls showed up, then I don’t know if I could. And this is the sort of thing that I really, really don’t want to mess up.
Her friends, Celestia and Luna, Spike. Eight variables, eight potential sources of disaster, eight ways things would almost certainly go wrong. They only needed one pony to bring Twilight back, but everypony else would argue for all eight of them.
They only needed one.
I really, really don’t want to mess up.
“Don’t worry, Twilight Sparkle.” Rarity muttered under her breath. “I won’t be the pony to mess this up for you.”
The writing was cramped, almost illegibly so. But with the proper lens, the letters could be magnified to clear as day. A looking glass would do the trick, of course, but so would the right sort of spectacles – and the latter was far less conspicuous.
*******************************************************************
By the time Spike returned, Rarity only had half of an unsorted stack remaining.
“Rarity?”
“Good evening, Spike” Rarity replied, not looking up from her page. “How was dinner?”
“Good! I, uh, I brought you up a salad. I figured you would like it.”
Rarity looked up. Spike bustled into the room, cradling a bowl of mixed greens with both hands, looking vaguely apologetic.
“Aww, Spikey-Wikey”, Rarity cooed. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“W-well, I just sorta figured you’ld be hungry, too. Even if you didn’t say that you were, I mean. So if you’re hungry, then you don’t have to stop if you don’t want to.” Spike craned his neck to look at the stacks of papers. “Uh. Did you finish with them?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Rarity sighed. “I’ve been caught up in reading them. You’ve done a wonderful job of sorting them, Spike. I assumed that you were simply going to organize them by page number, but to have gone and separated them into actual essays! It’s simply phenomenal of you, darling.”
Spike’s blush returned, and he set the salad bowl down and scratched awkwardly at his arm. “It’s just figuring out what section of hoofwriting goes where, you know? She didn’t do all the essays with the same size or angle of her letters, so I sort of guessed.”
“Well, you certainly did a fine job of guessing. I haven’t seen a single page out of place so far! Except for the rest of this stack, of course. I…rather neglected to actually sort them. My apologies.” Rarity gave Spike an apologetic smile, and was relieved to see Spike respond with a grin.
“It’s fine! I can sort them out while you finish reading.” Spike sat down by the rest of the pile, grabbed a clawful of pages and began to rearrange the contents. “So what’s been on the pages?”
Rarity glanced over at the salad, then flicked her eyes back to her page.
The completion of the ritual, once the appropriate sigils are arranged (see diagram 6.5 and appendix A for correct arrangement and prearranged sigils) should take approximately 42.6 seconds of invocation, given strict adherence to the physical and vocal components necessary. Failure to correctly recite the invocation with the appropriate arrangement of sigils will have consequences not empirically tested-
“Rarity?”
-the most likely hypothesis according to equation 4.4 would be the cessation of the ritual. However, psychic feedback may also result, which could lead to brain damage, loss of motor functions, and possible death.
“Rarity?”
“Uh?” Rarity looked up from her page. “Yes, Spike?”
“I was just wondering what you’ve been reading.”
“Ah – theories. Some detail. Plenty of charts. Nothing terribly interesting, I’m afraid.”
“Are you sure? You kind of looked like you were worried about that page.”
“What, this one?” Rarity asked, flipping the page around in the air. “Not at all. My eyes are beginning to strain, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe I could borrow your glasses and read them for you! That’s what’s been helping you read them, right?”
Rarity crossed her eyes to look at the bridge of her snout and groaned. I had meant to take those off before Spike returned, she thought. I suppose I’ll have to downplay it as best I can.
“Perhaps a little”, Rarity giggled, “But I was mostly considering it as a change of style. Glasses are very stylish on ponies who pursue intellectual pursuits, after all, and I thought I would just…get in the spirit of things!”
Spike stared at her. Nearby, Twilight’s breathing mask continued to hiss.
“…What?” Rarity asked.
“Well…wouldn’t you have dressed up besides the glasses?”
“I figured an air of simplicity would be most suitable for the occasion. One mustn’t overdress for such a somber event, after all.”
“And why did you wait until I was gone before you got them?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise, of course!”
“Then why didn’t you point them out when I came in? Normally, you love showing me all of your new designs.”
“Well…”
“And they kind of look like the normal glasses you wear when you’re designing outfits.”
“It’s…”
“And I think the lenses are almost exactly the same. They’ve got the little groove in them for seeing things up-close, like-“
“Okay! Fine!” Rarity huffed. “I was hoping to get some studying done in piece and quiet. Are you happy?”
“But we weren’t really talking before-“
Moaning, Rarity buried her face in her hooves.
“…Rarity? There’s something you’re not telling me, is there?”
Sighing, Rarity uncovered her face. “Yes, Spike. There is.”
“Well, um…what is it?”
“Have you got those pages finished? This might take a while, and I want to make sure I know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Almost. It’s mostly just graphs and equations, though. And runes. Do you need any of that stuff?”
“I shouldn’t, no. I would assume that was simply Twilight figuring everything out on her own, and I don’t doubt that she triple-checked her equations before doing…whatever it was she was trying to do, anyway. Besides, magical theory isn’t really my thing.” Rarity chucked. “I don’t doubt I’d make things worse if I tried to check her work. Pages?”
“Oh! Here you go!” Spike said, offering the clawful of pages to Rarity. Lifting them out of his claws, Rarity began to flip through the pages. Equations, notation, a list of names and titles under a “works cited” page that ran on through half a dozen pages. Charts and tables. An appendix full of sigils. Setting the rest of the stack aside, Rarity levitated the pages of symbols into the air and began to place them around her, exactly as Twilight’s notes dictated.
“So, uh.” Spike started.
Rarity continued to place the sigils.
“Rarity?”
“Yes, Spike?”
“You’re going to cast a spell, aren’t you?”
“Correct.”
“So what’s it supposed to do?”
“Bring back Twilight, with any luck”, Rarity stated, laying the last glyph down and picking up the stack of papers she had been reading minutes before. Double-checking her work was, of course, vital; she couldn’t afford to place things even a fraction of an inch wrong.
“But how’s it supposed to do that?”
Rarity cross-compared the notes. The arrangement was perfect, but eyeballing the amount of inches was impossible at this length.
“Could you fetch me a tape measurer, Spike?” Rarity asked. “There should be one in Twilight’s room, with any luck.”
“Oh! Sure!” Spike replied, stepping outside the circle of sigils. “You’ll tell me when I get back, right?”
“Ah – of course, Spike! I’d simply prefer to have everything in order before I start explaining in depth. I wouldn’t want to get distracted and accidentally mess this up, after all.”
Spike nodded. “Okay! I think I know where to look. I’ll be back right away!”
Rarity waved as Spike trotted off. As soon as his back disappeared from view, Rarity sighed. Not that lying in general doesn’t feel somewhat vulgar, Rarity thought, But Spike…if this wasn’t absolutely necessary, I’d feel utterly vile. Not that I don’t feel at least slightly vile already, but…
There won’t be a need to explain anything to Spike, after all. I simply need him to perform a couple of small favors and pop off for a bit while I cast the spell. I’m sure I’ll be back in no time at all, and he’ll forgive me right away once I have Twilight safe and sound. Now, as for the recitation…
As Rarity flipped through the pages, it struck her that she was unhesitatingly going to use magic beyond her complete control. Twilight wouldn’t lie to her, of course, but there were many variables unchecked in a spell largely unstudied. Rarity turned to look at Twilight, watching her chest rise and fall in time with the hissing of her mask.
What if I become like her? What if the spell is doomed to fail? What if Twilight can’t be saved, no matter what? What if nopony will be able to save me, either?
If I end up like Twilight, will I even notice what happens to me?
For a second, Rarity’s thoughts drifted to oblivion: the frozen void of nothingness, of lack of ability to notice or comprehend the utter lack of existence. A fragment of understanding flickered in her brain, and her blood seared with something bitter as polar winter.
It won’t happen, Rarity thought. It will be nice and simple. Completely safe. Get in, get out, go home. Nothing to it. Now, the vocal components page should be right…about…
Rarity pulled a page out of the stack, looked at its contents and groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
Rarity looked up. Spike stood in the doorway, a tape measurer in his grip and a look of concern on his face.
“It’s runes”, Rarity moaned. “Nothing but…I can’t read this. Ugggh. I don’t suppose Twilight had some sort of translation guide, or…”
“I can read it!”
“You can?”
“Yeah!” Spike said as he trotted closer, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Twilight wanted me to sort out all of her paperwork when…well, all the time. But I mean, that included when she was researching magic spells, and it all looked like so many squiggles to me at first, you know? And she’d always get sort of frustrated when I didn’t get it right. So I just kind of started teaching myself what meant what, so that I could figure it out.”
Rarity gaped at Spike. “You taught yourself? A-an entire LANGUAGE? Of something that looks like little…little shapes thrown together at random?”
Spike shrugged. “Well, Princess Celestia had a couple of books on them in the Royal Canterlot library. You know, a phonetics guide, a little dictionary, stuff like that. I sort of asked if I could borrow those, so it wasn’t really, like, entirely by myself.”
“Wh-I mean, It-you didn’t have a teacher? At all?”
“Uh…is it really that impressive? I mean, it just felt like a thing to do, not, like, a big deal or anything.”
“Well, ah…” Rarity paused, blinking twice. “…I simply had no idea you were so clever! I suppose you’re right, of course. Not that big of a deal. Still, if you could do me a favor, it would be much appreciated.” Rarity pushed the page of runes towards Spike. “If you could translate those runes and transcribe the translation onto a blank page, that would be very much appreciated. I’ll need them for just a bit later.”
“Weren’t you going to tell me what the spell was supposed to do?”
“Ah…yes! Yes! But I do need to get everything exactly perfect. You understand, of course. I never dreamed my little Spikey-Wikey could be so smart.” Rarity giggled, stretching her forehoof out towards Spike “So if you’ll just give me the tape measurer, then…”
Spike crossed his feet pigeon-toed and stared at the floor. Abruptly, he turned back to Rarity. “No.”
“…No?”
“I won’t do it, Rarity.” Spike frowned. “I’m not gonna do it unless you tell me what’s going on.”
The smile on Rarity’s face froze. “I…beg your pardon, Spike?”
“I don’t…” Spike gulped. “I don’t like this. You’re not telling me what’s happening until everything is done, but by the time everything’s done, you’re just going to…do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“That’s not necessarily true, darling.”
“So why can’t you tell me, then?” Spike crossed his arms.
“I don’t understand”, Rarity huffed. “Why are you being so obstinate about such a silly little thing? The tape measurer, please.”
“Tell me.”
“In a bit, Spike. The tape measurer. Now.”
“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t have to be. But I swear, you’re making such a fuss about-“
Spike turned and ran for the door. Rarity’s horn glowed, and the keyhole whined, then warped with a tinny crnkhing sound.
“ENOUGH of this, Spike” Rarity commanded as the dragon fought with the doorknob. “There’s no reason for you to be so suspicious. All I’m asking you to do is to leave me be for a minute or two.”
“Y-you jammed the lock! How is that NOT suspicious?”
“It’s nothing that can’t be repaired. I dare say that Twilight should know exactly how to fix it, so.” Rarity’s horn glowed again; the tape measurer twitched, then jumped out of Spike’s claws and hovered in front of her.
“I’ll scream!” Spike yelled at her, balling his hands into fists. “Give that back right now, or-“
“Go right ahead.” Rarity cut him off, unfurling the tape measurer and hovering it over the pages of sigils, tracking each measurement with the speed and precision of lightning. “I’m sure that everypony will rush to your aid in, oh, thirty seconds or so. And I’m positive that interrupting me while I’m trying to perform the spell – a spell without the proper incantation, I might add – will turn out wonderfully. I’m sure that it won’t cause some horrible magical accident by mistake.”
Spike gaped as Rarity continued to measure, sliding the tape measurer from one angular line to the next. Abruptly, Spike drew in a shuddering breath and walked towards Rarity.
“I’ll burn the pages”, Spike said.
Rarity froze, then gaped up at Spike, horror etched onto her face. “You wouldn’t.”
“I will.” Spike replied, squaring his shoulders. “We can always bring back Twilight some other way. And I’m not gonna let you get everypony hurt.”
Rarity barked out something far too forced and nervous to resemble a proper chuckle. “Ahah! Hah! Hah! You have no proof of anything! You’ll only be making things immeasurably worse! You wouldn’t DARE-“
Spike drew in a massive lungful of air, cheeks puffing as he looked down at the stack of pages next to Rarity.
“-STOP!” Rarity shrieked, throwing herself on top of the pile of pages. “Don’t! I’ll tell you! Please!”
Spike hovered above her, glowering. Eventually, he exhaled in a protracted sigh. “Everything?”
Rarity nodded. “Everything, I suppose. What do you want to know?”
“Well, what exactly are you trying to do?”
Rarity grimaced. “This is…going to sound silly, I suppose. You know what Twilight was trying to do, yes?”
“I want to hear you explain it again.” Spike frowned. “In your own words.”
“I suppose that’s fair. Well, then: Twilight was attempting to use a spell to go inside of her own mind, to do battle with part of herself that may or may not have existed in the first place. The last time I talked to her, she seemed relatively confident that she knew what she was doing, and mentioned that she had plenty of contingency spells in place, should something go wrong.”
“But they didn’t work, right?”
“MOSTLY didn’t work. Near the end of her collection, I saw that some of her spells were designed to be triggered from outside of her…brain excursion, perhaps? In any case, they failed to work. Fizzled utterly and completely. Poof. Except”, Rarity pressed on with a wan smile, “for one which was never triggered at all.”
Spike’s shoulders sagged. “So that’s it, then?”
Rarity shook her head as her smile widened. “Spike, I don’t think it was meant to be triggered by her. I think it was for US, so that we’d still have a way to save her, even if the very worst happened. And I’d say that what happened to her certainly qualifies as the very worst thing, yes?”
Spike looked away. Silence settled in on the room, and the smile on Rarity’s face faded.
“Well…it’s not the very worst possible thing, I suppose” Rarity added, clearing her throat. “In any case, this spell might be the only thing that can help us.”
“How’s it supposed to do that?” Spike mumbled. “I mean, what if she’s-“
“She’s not, Spike. I don’t believe it for a second. She just needs a bit of assistance, that’s all. Chin up, Spike? For me?”
Spike scratched his arm, but said nothing.
“Please?”
Spike turned to look at Twilight, chewing his lip. Finally, the dragon mouthed wordlessly at Twilight, then turned back to Rarity and nodded.
“Okay. Chin up. I can do this,” Spike mumbled. “Rarity?”
“Yes?”
“Whatever it is you’re going to do. I mean, I don’t know exactly what it is, but…please let me help.”
Rarity shook her head. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, darling.”
“Why not?”
“The spell”, Rarity said as she gestured to the papers around her. “One of the things that Twilight mentioned when we talked is that the more ponies that are involved in it, the more dangerous it would be. I haven’t been trying to keep it a secret to spite you, Spike, but I assumed that if I let even one pony know, I’d soon have all of our friends clamoring around me, demanding that we all go together. You can’t blame a lady for making these sort of assumptions, can you?” Rarity said with a soft chuckle.
“I mean…I guess not”. Spike assented. “But why would it be a bad thing? I mean, what’s it supposed to do?”
“Well, do you remember the Tantabus?”
Spike quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
“Oh. Right.” Rarity said, blushing. “Silly question. Well, ah – anyways, when we went to help Princess Luna, it only ended up making things worse. Ultimately, she was the only pony who could save herself, and that was something she did on her own. Twilight assumed that the less ponies involved in a dream, or in this jaunt that she attempted, the better off things would be. She had her notes, and her facts, and her assurances.” Rarity said, nodding her head towards the papers. “Can you blame me for thinking that she would be safe?”
“I never did. Blame you, I mean.” Spike uncrossed his arms. “I thought that whatever you did or said with her, it was only because you thought it was the best idea. You’re friends, right? I mean, we’re all friends, aren’t we?”
“Applejack might beg to differ, Spike.” Rarity sighed. “Again – I couldn’t blame her or anypony else, not really.”
“You can’t blame yourself, either. It’s not your fault.”
“It’s nopony’s fault, Spike. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yeah. But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“If it was true, do you think that Twilight would be like this? Do you think I would have been pouring over her notes if this wasn’t anypony’s fault?”
“Uh…”
“If this wasn’t anypony’s fault, then why did it happen at all?”
Spike scrunched up his claws in front of his chest and stared at the floor. “I only meant…” he faltered, before trailing off.
Rarity rose to her hooves and walked over to Spike. “I know what you meant, Spike. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to sound like I was attacking you, darling. I just want you to understand.”
Spike didn’t reply. Gently, Rarity reached up and placed her hoof on his shoulder.
“I did what I thought was the best possible idea, and it’s my fault that I didn’t stop Twilight from trying something foolish. It’s my fault that I didn’t insist that we help her – that ALL of us help her, no matter what she thought about the matter. Even outside of what Twilight’s notes taught me – I’m the only pony that made a mess of things. I was trying to go by myself because it was supposed to be the best thing to do, of course, but I’m also going because it’s my responsibility.”
Spike looked up at Rarity. Rarity squeezed his shoulder, and Spike shivered.
“…You understand, I hope? I’d feel rather silly if all of this sounded, er – silly to you.”
Spike nodded. “I think I do. Kind of. But…Rarity?”
“Yes?”
“I think it’s my responsibility, too.”
Rarity shook her head. “You can hardly blame yourself for being asleep, dear.”
“Even if I was, though.” Spike faltered. “Even if I was asleep, I’m supposed to organize her scrolls. Keep the library clean. Make sure that Twilight’s acting, uh…not-crazy? I-I’m allowed to say that, right?”
Rarity smirked. “It’s a rather crude moniker, Spike. I suppose it’s not entirely inaccurate, though.”
“I mean…you see what I mean, right? I know that Twilight’s supposed to be taking care of me, but I was kind of supposed to be helping her, too. We were supposed to be looking out for each other and stuff. A-and that means it’s my responsibility, too.”
“I’m not certain that’s on the same scale of things, dear.”
“She saved me from a dragon! Twice! She protected me when we were trying to save the Crystal Empire, too. And nopony would have been safe from Tirek or Discord o-or Nightmare Moon if she hadn’t been…” Spike trailed off. “…if you guys hadn’t saved us all those times. It’s not just like “I owe her”, y’know? It’s what we’re supposed to do for each other. And that means that this is what I’m supposed to do.”
Spike turned to look at Twilight. “This doesn’t sound crazy, right? I mean, I know that the stuff you said about responsibility kind of makes sense, but…”
Rarity reached down and wrapped the dragon in a wordless hug. Spike froze, before reaching up to return the gesture. The moment stretched, expanded from one second to the next; in each one, Rarity felt the faint warmth beneath Spike’s scales, heard the faint thumping of his heart and the susurrus of his breathing.
Finally, Rarity let go. Spike stepped away, and the two looked at each other, sporting identical smiles.
“It’ll be harder with the two of us”, Rarity said.
“Um. You still haven’t told me what “it” is, Rarity.” Spike replied.
“Oh! Silly me. My apologies, Spike.” Rarity cleared her throat. “I think what happened is that Twilight went inside of her own dreams to do battle with her evil side. We’re going to go inside of her dreams and try to rescue her.”
Spike’s jaw dropped.
“I suppose it does sound rather odd, doesn’t it?” Rarity sighed.
“Twilight’s evil?”
“No! Not as far as I can tell, anyway. But she certainly worried that she might have become evil, which lead her to…this.” Rarity gestured at Twilight. “Anyways – I think that all we need to do is wake her up. Given that she designed this spell specifically for this sort of thing, I doubt it should be any trouble at all. Then we can have a nice long talk about what she’s done, hmm?”
“I…guess so.” Spike shook his head. “I still don’t know why Twilight would be evil, though.”
“I don’t assume Princess Luna ever thought she would become Nightmare Moon, Spike. I think Twilight was simply trying to be careful – nothing more, nothing less. Of course, she can be somewhat….dangerous when she’s trying to be careful.”
“You mean like when she got the whole town to fight each other over a doll?”
“Exactly.”
“Or when she made herself crazy and had to wear an eyepatch because of time travel?”
“Well, yes-“
“Or when she switched everypony’s cutie marks around because of an incomplete spell-“
“You see the point I’m trying to make, then?”
“Yeah. I guess I kind of do.” Spike faltered. “So she’s not evil, then?”
“Not in the least!” Rarity huffed. “Honestly, Spike, I assumed you’ld be more concerned about the nature of the spell.”
“Well, Luna already goes into other ponies’ dreams, right? Or she’s supposed to? And I mean, you guys went into her dream, and I sort of did, too? So it’s not really that weird, right?” Spike shrugged. “And if she’s not evil, then it doesn’t sound like there’s much we have to do.”
“Exactly.” Rarity beamed. “So I can’t imagine that waking her up would be much trouble at all.”
“Then, uh…why were you being so secretive about it?”
“Well, ah – Twilight did make an excellent point about our dreams…mixing up, and getting muddled, and otherwise making an absolute mess of things. She worried that the more ponies that tried to help her with this, the more...confused and dangerous things would become? It was mixing dreams that made the Tantabus a threat, after all.”
“But Rarity, what if Twilight’s wrong? I mean, she sort of…” Spike trailed off, nodding towards Twilight.
“Spike, what if she’s right?”
“I mean, I…if she was right, wouldn’t she look different from, uh…”
“I don’t know, Spike. I – We’re trying to do something different from her. I don’t get to know, one way or another. She didn’t get to know, one way or another. I’m trying to trust in her notes because I’m trying to trust in her. Even if, ah…” Rarity looked at Twilight. “Even if it doesn’t seem like the right thing to do.”
Spike followed Rarity’s gaze. “So nopony else, then?”
Rarity bit her lip. “If nothing else…If I happen to look like, ah. Like Twilight does, then I know that everypony else will know what to do. It’ll be useful to have somepony on the outside. And there’s the trust in Twilight I mentioned, and…” Rarity trailed off.
“Rarity?” Spike asked, softly.
“Yes?”
“I know you’re trying to convince me, but…are you trying to convince yourself, too?”
Rarity sighed, but said nothing.
“We don’t have to do this.” Spike said, lacing his claws in front of his chest. “We could still go back, and talk to everypony, and…”
“Responsibility, Spike.”
“…I know, Rarity.”
“You, too?”
Spike nodded. “Me, too.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
Rarity nodded once, then turned back to Spike. “Just the two of us.”
“Just the two of us”, Spike answered as he turned to face her.
“Back in no time.”
“Because we owe her.”
“Responsibility”, the two of them said in unison. A moment of clarity hung between them, unsung and crystal pure.
Then Rarity bent down, grabbed the tape measurer and began to re-measure the distances of the symbols. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike pick up the page of runes and mutter them under his breath. The two worked in silence: Rarity calculating lines and angles, Spike fumbling over consonants and vowels, both momentarily blind and deaf to each other’s presence.
At last, Rarity tilted the page to her right four degrees and raised her head. “Okay. I believe everything should be perfect. Are you ready?”
“I think so. I mean, I know how to pronounce it phonetically, but, uh – it might not sound like language?”
“I wasn’t expecting it to sound familiar at all, Spike. I doubt that will be much of a problem.”
“Not like that. Uh. It’d be more like I was just saying a bunch of things-that-sound-like-words strung together. There’s got to be some, uh…dress-related way to put it?”
Rarity paused to think. “So…Like sewing sleeves separate from the rest of a garment, then crudely stitching them on at the very end?”
“Yeah? Except, like, for the whole thing.”
Rarity grimaced. “Ugh. I suppose it will have to do. In any case, I’m quite ready, so if you think you’ll be able to start translating them, then…”
“Does it need to be written down, or just said out loud?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to repeat them without some sort of notes, so I think I’ll need you to write them down again.”
“Uh. Couldn’t I just read them out loud, instead?”
Rarity paused. “That…I don’t know, Spike. I’m not sure the ritual is supposed to be done by multiple ponies at once.”
“Is it supposed to have multiple ponies in it at all?”
“Well – no, not really. We did have an entire argument about that, remember?”
“Oh. Well, uh – but if it did have just the two of us, I mean, if one of us does the reading and one of us does…whatever else needs to be done. Then wouldn’t it make more sense then having one pony doing everything and everypony else just standing around?”
“…I suppose it might make some sort of sense. I don’t know, Spike. I’m becoming increasingly more aware of why Twilight decided to try and keep things as simple as possible.”
“Well, what else are we going to do? Not try and cast the spell?”
Rarity shook her head. “We can’t simply leave her. This is still workable. Just more frustrating then it should be, all things considered.”
Rarity stared at the sigils on the floor. Perfectly arranged. Everything was ready. There wasn’t any reason to wait any longer.
“Rarity?”
Rarity took a shuddering breath. “I’m ready.”
“Are you sure? You look kind of nervous.”
“We’re about to work magic that has never been worked before. If we fail to cast it correctly, the results could be catastrophic. Even if we do cast it correctly, the results could be catastrophic. Nopony has any idea what’s exactly going to happen, and the pony with the closest clue can’t exactly talk about it with us right now. So, yes – I’m rather nervous.”
“…We can find another way, Rarity. I mean, if you think this is a bad idea-“
“Of course it’s a bad idea, Spike. It’s also the best idea that I can think of.” Rarity exhaled and closed her eyes for a bit longer then a standard blink. “Let’s do this, Spike. Before I become scared and change my mind.”
The dragon shifted uncomfortably. “Uh…you want me to just read off of the page? That’s all that I have to do?”
“That’s all you have to do. I’ll focus magic into the pages around us while you do. If this works, then the spell should trigger as soon as you finish reciting, and – something will happen. The spell will work in the manner in which it’s supposed to work. Theoretically.”
“…I don’t know, Rarity. We can still find another way. I don’t think it’s too late to tell everypony else about this.”
Rarity shook her head. “If you’re scared, you don’t have to do this. I’ll try to figure out the runes on my own.”
“That still sounds like a bad idea.”
“If not that, then I’ll try to cast the spell without the chanting. Or you can burn the pages. Do what you will, Spike.”
“This is how to be responsible?”
Rarity shook her head. “The most responsible thing would be to not include you at all. But you’ve made a compelling case, and I won’t deny your responsibility simply to further my own.”
Spike paused, then nodded. “…Okay. If you think this the right thing to do, then – I trust you.”
“I trust you, too. And I trust Twilight Sparkle. With any luck, this will be all the trust I need.” Rarity’s horn flared. “Recite.”
Spike looked down at the page and began reading. The glyphs on the pages began to glow as Rarity focused. Behind her, she heard Spike begin to recite stanzas of an utterly alien nature. His pitch was an octave lower, his tone strong and unwavering.
A sudden node of pressure bloomed on the inside of Rarity’s forehead, breaking her focus and causing the sigils to dim. Gritting her teeth, her horn flared brighter, and the sigils brightened as they had before. The pressure remained, a faint and irritating push that fought back against her as she strained to work the spell. It had been a while since she had attempted difficult magic, much less something on this scale, and she struggled as the spell fought back against her.
The pressure grew, like a large hoof was trying to shove her horn aside. Rarity ignored it. Behind her, Spike’s chanting grew louder – and, faintly, Rarity could make out the noise of hoofsteps on a staircase far below.
Somepony’s coming to check on us, Rarity realized. If I don’t do this right, I’m not going to get another chance.
The pressure shifted directly on top of her horn, as if trying to push it into her skull. It felt like a bedpost jabbing into head, and was becoming harder to ignore. Rarity’s horn glowed brightly enough to cast little flickering shadows around the pages, and she heard Spike begin to chant even louder.
Pain spread and blossomed in frond-shaped whorls. Little black spots popped in front of her eyes as the sigils blazed with light, curling like autumn leaves as they floated into the air. Spike’s chanting was practically a shout, and underneath it was the sound of somepony knocking against the door.
Suddenly, light erupted from the sigils, arcing to each other, threading around and over Rarity and Spike in a glowing lattice. The dragon’s voice faltered, briefly, before rising up louder then before. A bead of sweat trickled down Rarity’s neck as she fought to contain the spell. It hurt worse then any migraine she could remember, and her legs were beginning to buckle, and the knocking had turned to the clattering of the useless doorknob, then to a loud banging against the door-
-and then the stands of light coalesced into a glowing, white dome, and as Spike yelled the last few words on the page the dome contracted, closed in around them-
-and Rarity felt the tension in her head gave way, and there was a small kick near the base of her spine, and then she couldn’t feel her legs or her face or much of anything at all, and the last thing she felt before her eyelids drooped shut was an unbidden sense of vertigo.
*******************
Rarity opened her eyes. Everything around her was white, featureless and blank.
Rarity blinked, then pulled herself upright. A second later, and her brain registered that there was somewhere it had pulled itself upright FROM, and that her legs – and eyes – were even working at all.
Which was a start.
Behind her, something moaned. Rarity turned and saw Spike, lying prone beside her, limbs twitching.
“Spike?”
Spike moaned again, then rolled over to face her and opened his eyes.
“Rarity?”
“Is everything all right? Can you see? Can you hear me?”
“I’m fine, Rarity.” Spike rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Can you do all of that stuff, too?”
Rarity sighed in relief. “Yes! Of course! But I wanted to make sure that both of us were fine, after all.”
“I mean, I think I am. I’m not sure.” Spike replied, looking around. “I don’t even know what happened, really.”
“Well,” Rarity said as she looked up, “Let’s get our bearings first, and-“
They were in a room, with angle and proportions identical to Twilight’s bedroom, but almost utterly lacking in detail. The walls, ceiling and floor were a textureless, featureless white, save for two shuttered windows. The only objects in the room were two nightstands – one supporting a simple oak box, and the other a small china vase holding a single, yellow daffodil – and a bed.
The bed was Twilight’s bed. On it was Twilight, exactly as she had been laying for two days, completely still.
“Twilight!” Rarity cried, her face breaking out into a smile as she ran towards Twilight. Rarity’s heart raced as she reached forward to shake Twilight’s shoulder-
-and as she touched Twilight, pain shot up through Rarity’s leg. Every nerve from her hoof to her shoulder was on fire. Raw, chemical surges of agony washed through her leg, over and over and over, an acidic bite that curled through her spine and forced bile up through her throat-
-and with a garbled shriek, Rarity pulled away. The unicorn stumbled backwards, breathing heavily, and stared at her hoof in shock.
“Rarity!’ Spike yelled, running to her side. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Rarity huffed. The pain had vanished. Her hoof looked whole, undamaged, as if nothing had happened to it at all.
“Are you okay?”
“I feel fine. Now, I mean. A bit shaken, perhaps, but I’ll manage.” Rarity shook her head. “I don’t recommend touching her, though.”
“What happened? I mean, did it burn you, or shock you, or what?”
“It hurt, Spike. That’s all it did. It hurt.” Rarity rubbed her temple, and a bead of sweat smeared against her hoof.
“So what are we supposed to do, then?”
“I don’t know! Use your own initiative, Spike.” Rarity snapped. “I need to think.” Carefully, she walked over to Twilight again. Physically touching her isn’t going to work, Rarity realized. Perhaps I could use magic to nudge her a little. Rarity’s horn glowed as she stared at Twilight-
-and what felt like white-hot spikes drilled into her brain, through her eyes, inside her mouth, numbing touch and taste and hearing to spasms of torture-
-and Rarity stumbled back, legs feeling like jelly, then water, then nothing at all, and with an unduly heavy thump collapsed against the floor. The world tilted to one side as her head lolled, and her body heaved before she finally managed to open her mouth and gulp down a jagged gasp of air.
It took Rarity five seconds until she could move her head, and another ten before she regained feeling in her legs. Moaning, Rarity looked up and saw Spike standing above her, claws scrunched anxiously in front of his chest.
“ ‘M fine. Really.” Rarity mumbled, aware of her slightly slurred speech. “Mostly fine. I think.”
“Is it safe?“ Spike faltered, eyes flicking back and forth between Twilight and Rarity. “Safe to touch you, I mean. I-I mean, would I get shocked if I tried to-“
“I think”. Rarity mumbled, blinking. “I think it’s fine. I think m’safe. Just…tired. Dizzy”, Rarity elaborated. “…Think I could use a hoof up. Perhaps. I meant…perhaps. Not think. Apologies. Vernacular somewhat…”
“It’s okay.” Spike replied, bending down and wrapping his arms as far as he could reach around Rarity. It wasn’t much pressure, a slight tug against her, if nothing else. But he was warm, and he was close, and it was sufficient to make the world feel a little less alien.
Rarity took a deep breath and pulled herself upright. Spike stumbled backward as Rarity swayed, then corrected her balance, gradually readjusting herself to normal posture.
“…Thank you.” Rarity breathed. “Right. So. Touching her is not okay. Using magic on her is not okay. If it’s not too much of a stretch for you, I’d like to assume that trying to wake her up is impossible.”
“Um. W-well, maybe if we tried shouting at her?”
“Considering the sadly unfitting ruckus I’ve made? If she didn’t wake up then, I doubt that she’d wake up now.”
“So what do we do?”
“Accept that this is a lost cause, and send for help. At the very least, we know that Twilight’s spell worked. All we need to do is have somepony wake us up, and then we can explain what we did and what we found. Could you open one of the windows, please?”
“Uh, sure.” Spike replied, trotting towards a set of shutters. “But how are they going to wake us up from here?”
“Well, I’ll assume that Princess Luna couldn’t find her because she didn’t know where to look. But with the notes, and with us acting as a place marker, she should be able to figure out where we are and fly in to save us. I’ll just need to project some sort of beacon to show that we’re here, and we should be safe and sound-“
Spike opened a shutter, and the room was cast into unearthly shades of grey.
The sky was filled with black and white particles, flashing, squirming against each other, popping in and out of existence at uncountably fast intervals. A hissing noise filled the air, somewhere between the sizzle of boiling water and the patter of rooftop rain.
Spike and Rarity stood, cast into silhouettes by the flickering light.
“Static”, Rarity finally mumbled.
“Huh?” Spike replied, turning around.
“Static, Spike. It’s not always effortless for a unicorn to cast a spell, even if it’s something as simple as lifting a needle and thread into the air. Sometimes we’re distracted; by rain, loud noise, or what have you. And sometimes, there’s simply so much magic going on in one spot that it’s difficult to even bring the magic together at all. Imagine trying to whisper to somepony else in the middle of…some sort of rustic hoe-down, I suppose?”
“You mean, like one of Applejack’s family reunions?”
“I imagine so.” Rarity frowned. “Twilight knew more about specific details then I did. It’s not something that comes up all that often, fortunately. Only if a great many unicorns are casting different spells all at once, or if there’s some great sort of magical…THING happening, some sort of outstanding event, is when it’s likely to set in. And even then, it’s supposed to be a personal sensation; minor hearing impairment or vision loss that’s supposed to look and sound like this. It’s not supposed to look like a physical…sky. It’s not supposed to look like the sky.”
“So what does this mean?”
“It means that if you open the window, there’s no way I’m going to be able to cast any magic at all. It means that I can’t signal for help.” Rarity turned to Spike, a note of worry creeping into her voice.
“It means we’re trapped. It means that we can’t get out of here. Spike, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do.”
Spike blinked. “Of course we can get out of here.”
“Wh- and just how are you proposing we do that?” Rarity sputtered.
“I don’t know. But we haven’t even started looking around yet! Come on, Twilight wouldn’t want us to give up NOW. We only just got here.”
“Spike. I’ve been shocked, TWICE, and we’re apparently in a place that is a windowpane away from negating my magic entirely. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit discouraged, dear.”
“Yeah, but…”
“I’d like a precise course of action. Otherwise, I feel as if I have the right to take a somewhat pessimistic outlook on things.”
“Well, uh – there’s the box, and the flower. We could always start there.”
“Wonderful! I’d simply love another opportunity to writhe in agony.”
“M-maybe they’re safe!”
“And what if they aren’t?”
“What if they ARE?”
Rarity sighed. “I suppose there’s not much else to do here, is there? Poke at the objects, feel pain. I’d hardly have expected her mind to be quite so hostile.”
“I don’t think this is what her mind is normally like, Rarity.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. It’s certainly not behaving proactively now, though, is it?”
Spike turned away. Without replying, the dragon trotted over to a nightstand, standing on tiptoe to pluck the flower from the vase.
“What’s ‘proactively’ mean?” Spike asked, turning around to face Rarity.
“I, ah. Come again?”
“I mean, you’re kind of using a bunch big words that I don’t really know, but I can usually figure out what you mean by them, even if I don’t get exactly what you’re saying. But I kind of don’t know what proactively means, so, uh…what does it mean?”
“Well, er…I guess I meant “in our best interests”, perhaps?”
“What about ‘vernacular’?”
“…My choice of words?”
“Initiative?”
“Well, when I said it, I meant ‘your own willpower’, but I don’t suppose it’s that…”
“Theoretically?”
“It means ‘in theory’. Spike, I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
“ ’Cause you know all these big words. And I don’t.” Spike plucked a petal off of the daffodil and began tracing little shapes onto it. “I mean, ‘cause you’re smart.”
“Just because I’ve conversed with Twilight for extended periods of time, there isn’t necessarily a correlation between-“
“There! See? Correlation! It’s another big word, and I don’t know what it means, either.” Spike held the petal up to the light, squinting. “Even if you don’t think you’re smart, you’re smart enough to know all those words, AND how to use them! It’s like the difference between knowing how a dress looks and how to make a dress, right?”
Rarity scratched the back of her neck. “I still don’t understand what you’re trying to say, darling.”
“It just sounds like you’re kind of frustrated already. About trying to rescue Twilight, I mean. And I feel like you’ld probably be able to get better ideas about how to find her then I would. And I don’t want to give up, but it kind of sounds like you do.” Spike huffed, then breathed a gout of flame on the petal. It caught fire, drooping into an ashen tongue; frowning, Spike crumpled the petal in his claw and plucked another petal off of the daffodil.
“I want to be brave. It’s harder for me to be brave when I have to be brave in front of everypony else. Or even just you. I’m not just scared of the spell, and where we are, or even just Twilight. I’m scared that I won’t be brave anymore. I’m scared that I’ll get too scared to save Twilight.”
Spike held out the petal to Rarity. “And it’s harder for me to feel brave when I’m trying to do something that nopony else thinks they can do.”
Rarity took the petal, pausing for a couple of seconds, as if collecting herself.
“That’s…rather mature of you, Spike.”
“What is?”
“To articulate what you’ve said. And to tell me about how you feel. I’m not sure you’re aware of how difficult it would be for other ponies to do the same thing.” Rarity brought the petal to her nose and sniffed. It wasn’t simply scentless; like a waiting room in a hospital, it was aggressively devoid of any scent at all.
“It doesn’t sound like I’m blaming you, does it? I mean, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that…”
“It was a necessary change of perspective. I’m thankful, actually.” Rarity brought the petal close to her eye; it was smooth, uniform in color, lacking in mark or blemish. An imitation, Rarity thought. Too perfect to resemble something alive. The idea of a flower, but not a real one.
“But what’s ‘real’ supposed to mean, anyway?” Rarity mused.
“Huh?”
“Apologies, Spike. I was thinking about…” Rarity trailed off, before offering the petal back to him. “Ah – I’m not sure what you wanted me to do with this, actually.”
“Oh! Well, I was wondering if you could write ‘help’ on it. Y’know, with magic. Just make really small indentions – but like, ones deep enough that somepony could read on them!”
“Isn’t that what you were just doing?”
“Yeah, but – maybe if you do it, it’ll have some trace of your magic on it! Maybe that’ll help!”
“Perhaps, but I don’t see how burning petals is conducive to our-“
“Princess Celestia! I figured that it doesn’t have to be a letter in order to get to her – if I just write on anything and send the message to her, then she’ll know that we’re still okay. Maybe she’ll even figure out where we are!”
“Spike! That’s ingenious!” Rarity beamed. Abruptly, her smile faltered. “Ah…”
“Yeah?”
“Well – I’m going to assume that sending a petal is what you just TRIED to do, darling.”
“Yeah, but…maybe it would work if it had a bit of your magic to it! That might do something! Besides, my hoofwriting isn’t that great. Uh – claw-writing. You know what I meant.”
“I suppose it’s worth a try, if nothing else. You’re right, of course. We mustn’t just give up now. That’d hardly be fair to Twilight, much less anypony else. So!” Rarity took the petal in one hoof and, as her horn glowed, carefully indented its surface.
“There we are. ‘We’re okay, please send help.’ Hopefully they’ll understand that we aren’t, ah…unwell, but that we could certainly use a rescue. Does that sound okay to you?”
Spike took the petal back and craned his neck close to its surface. “Yeah! I mean, it’s kind of small, but I’m sure they’ll be able to read it.”
“If it goes through, in any case.”
“Here goes nothing!” Spike chirped, before inhaling and breathing a puff of flame onto the petal. For a moment, the petal shimmered. Then, like the one before it, the petal lit up in a lick of green fire, slowly curling in on itself as it withered to an ashen husk. Rarity watched as Spike’s face fell.
“…I guess that wasn’t a good idea after all”, Spike mumbled. “Sorry.”
Rarity bit her lip, then gritted her teeth in defiance.
“Darling, it was a perfectly reasonable idea! You have nothing to worry about. We’ll simply have to find other ideas.”
“That was the only one I had, though.” Spike crumpled the second petal, then slumped and stared at the ground. “I kind of said all that stuff about making new ideas ‘cause I wanted to impress you when my idea worked. But if it didn’t work, then I guess it didn’t mean anything.”
Rarity shook her head. “Even if trying to send a message to Celestia didn’t work, it doesn’t mean what you said was wrong. We’ve only just arrived, after all. If we can’t make a message on our own, perhaps we’ll be able to find something else that can send a message for us.”
“I guess”, Spike muttered.
Rarity cupped Spike’s chin, lifting his head to face her, and stared directly into his eyes.
“Bravery is harder when nopony else thinks they can do it, yes?”
“…Yeah.”
“Well, I’m certainly willing to be brave for you, if you’re willing to be brave for me. I should never have let some silly pains frustrate me, at any rate. It’d be a grave disservice to you, and to Twilight. And, I suppose, to me. We’re both better then a bit of discouragement, yes?”
Spike stared at her, then stepped back and nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Responsibility, right?”
Rarity beamed. “Exactly. Now – if you’ll be a dear, put the flower back and we’ll investigate the box together.”
“Okay!” Spike turned and trotted back, reaching up to grab the vase and inserting the daffodil with ease. Replacing the vase, Spike stepped back, paused, scratched his arm and turned back to Rarity.
“Hey, uh – what do daffodils mean, anyway?”
“Hmm?” Rarity trotted over to the box, then turned to face Spike. “I’m not sure what you mean, Spike.”
“Well, I know that you’re supposed to put flowers next to ponies who are sick, to make them feel better. But, like, you could put any flower in a vase, right? Or a bouquet?”
“Hm. I suppose that’s true, but I haven’t thought about it much before. Flowers aren’t exactly my area of expertise. Except when they’re matched with the appropriate hat or dress, of course. Perhaps if we find a boutique, then I’ll be able to put it to use.” Rarity chuckled. “But I think it would be best if we left it alone for now, Darling.”
“Right”, Spike replied, trotting back to Rarity, face scrunched in concentration. “Yellow flower, might mean something. Yellow flower, might mean something. Yellow flower, might mean something.”
“…Spike? What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to remember the stuff about the flower!” Spike chirped as he stood next to Rarity. “I thought it might be something we forget, so I thought that if I said it out loud enough times, I’d remember it anyway. I don’t want to forget it, in case it’s important for some reason.”
Rarity snorted, then giggled.
“Huh?” Spike said. “Uh…it’s a dumb idea, isn’t it?”
“It isn’t a terrible idea, Spikey-wikey.” Rarity replied, giggling again. “But I think I’ll be able to remember enough for the two of us. Perhaps I don’t know what flowers are supposed to mean, but I wouldn’t forget such a beautiful shade of yellow. Particularly considering how drab and Spartan this room is. Ugh.” Rarity added, rolling her eyes. “If this really is Twilight’s mind, then she could certainly afford to spend more time at home decorating classes. Or an art gallery, at the very least. Minimalism was so last January.”
Spike grinned. “Or maybe she could hang out with Pinkie!”
“Even if streamers and balloons are a bit gauche, they’d CERTAINLY be better then this.”
“Or she could borrow some of Rainbow Dash’s Wonderbolts posters!”
“Well – let’s not go too far.”
Spike giggled.
“There we are! That’s the Spike I want to see.” Rarity pulled down the box, rested it on one hoof and – horn glowing – lifted open the lid.
There was nothing in the box but lavender foam. Indentations had been inexpertly carved into the foam: an oval in the center, and two curved bands on the top and bottom, each with indentations in the middle.
“Huh”, Spike said as he peered closer. “It kind of looks like an eye.”
“I suppose? But it doesn’t explain the other indentations.”
“Which ones?”
“The ones on the top and bottom – see?”
“Ohhhhhh. Yeah, I see them now!” Spike scratched his head. “I still don’t get what it’s supposed to mean, though.”
“Well, I’m not sure it would make all that much sense to have an empty box lying in here, of all places. Assuming that everything here is important, of course-“
Rarity froze.
“Erm…Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m…touching the box, right? As in, physically touching it?”
“I think so? I mean, are you not supposed to be touching it, or something?”
“Not if I don’t want to feel pain! Is it delayed? Pressure-based?” Rarity’s eyes flickered with fear as she scanned the room. “Perhaps if you used the vase to nudge it out of my hoof, then…”
“Rarity, I don’t think it’s going to hurt you.”
“We don’t know that for sure! I-it could go off at any second! Spike, please, you have to do something-“
Spike grabbed the box out of her hoof and shook it up and down several times. The dragon paused, blinked and handed it back to her.
“I don’t think it’s going to hurt you, Rarity. I think some of the stuff in the room is safe. Maybe it’s just Twilight we’re not supposed to touch?”
Rarity gulped, then took the box. It sat in her hoof, plain and lifeless.
“…Perhaps. That was still reckless of you, Spike. Don’t do it again.”
“But the flower was safe!”
“You shouldn’t have touched it, either! I should have said something as soon as you did. So long as there’s no way of telling what’s safe and what isn’t, then-“
“What? Should I just not touch anything unless you say I can?”
“Yes.”
Spike moaned. “Rarity, I was kind of being sarcastic.”
“And I’m being serious, darling. It’s okay if I get hurt, but I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself if it can be avoided.”
Spike stared at Rarity, and with exaggerated deliberation turned to look at Twilight.
Rarity sighed. “Dear, please don’t tell me that you’re thinking about touching Twilight in order to make a point.”
“I’m sort of thinking about it, Rarity.”
“Ugh! Fine! Touch whatever you like. Harm yourself. You are your own dragon, I suppose.” Rarity huffed. “I hope you realize this is the second time you’ve coerced me today. It’s rather un-gentledragonly of you.”
“I want to help. But you keep saying things that make me feel like I shouldn’t help, and that’s not-“
“Responsible. I understand.” Rarity rubbed her temple. “You do realize that I’m only doing this to try and protect you?”
“Yeah. But I’m okay with not being, y’know, totally protected.” Spike shrugged. “I just want to help like anypony else could. I don’t want to be treated like a baby. I promise that I can do just as much as anypony else.”
Spike stared at the ground.
“Please let me help, Rarity? I know I might not look like I’m Twilight Sparkle, or Applejack, or any of our friends, but…”
Silence settled. Abruptly, Rarity sniffed, and Spike looked back up at her.
“I promise, Spike. You’re welcome to help as much as you like, and I’ll do my best to bite my tongue. Anyways – shall we review what we’ve learned so far?”
“Yellow flower, might mean something!”
“…Yes, I suppose that’s true. You aren’t going to forget that fact any time soon, are you?”
“Nope!” Spike beamed. “Uh…let’s see. We can’t touch Twilight, there’s magic outside the window that means that we can’t signal for help…”
“Static, Spike. Magical interference.”
“Yeah, that stuff! So then there’s the box that used to have stuff in it, but it doesn’t have that stuff anymore. And there’s the door behind you that probably doesn’t open, and the window that I didn’t really get to look out of.” Spike paused. “Should I check under the bed?”
“If it isn’t safe to touch Twilight or the covers, I’d guess that it’s probably not safe to touch any part of it. You may look, if you wish, but I wouldn’t recommend rummaging around beneath it.”
Rarity blinked.
“Ah. The…door?”
“The one behind you!”
Rarity spun around. Opposite the window was a clean, white and featureless door. Beneath a small brass doorknob was a tiny keyhole; besides those, the gaps between the door, floor and ceiling were so thin that the door almost entirely blended in with the wall.
“I thought you had already tried to open it”, Spike added as he got on his hands and knees and began to look under the bed. “Y’know, before I woke up and everything. Should I have said something?”
“Well, ah - I suppose that you just have, in a manner of speaking. Perhaps I should have asked earlier. My apologies.” Rarity trotted over to the door, braced herself and put a hoof against the door.
No pain. The texture on the door was smooth and slick as porcelain.
“Rarity? I don’t see anything under here.”
“Perhaps check the vase? Or on the underside of the box?” Rarity reflexively winced as she looked at the doorknob. Her hoof trembled as she paused, then grabbed the door handle.
No pain. Rarity tried to turn the knob, but it was stuck fast.
“I still don’t see anything.”
“I suppose you can examine the window, if you wish.” Rarity bent down to look at the keyhole. Her horn glowed softly, illuminating the lockwork inside. Inside the keyhole was a vast kaleidoscope of cogs, locked in and on each other in twisting patterns, blocking the view of the outside of the keyhole.
“Well, then. This appears to be entirely vestigial.” Rarity sighed. “Ah…Spike? I don’t wish to alarm you, but I suspect that we might be trapped.”
“No way!”
Rarity turned around. The shutters on the window were thrown wide. Spike had pulled himself up in front of the window, tiny arms trembling as he looked outside.
“It is unfortunate. Still – I suppose if we searching everything a bit more thoroughly, we should be able to find some something of value. I don’t relish the idea of having to touch Twilight’s bed sheets, but if we must look under those, then-“
“No, Rarity! That’s not what I meant! I meant you’ve got to take a look at this. Trust me!”
“Mmm?” Rarity trotted over to the window, looked outside and gasped.
The ground outside was almost blank as pure limestone; Above them, the crackling of static filled the black and white sky. But down from the window, a slate-colored path trailed outward, then forked into winding trails.
To the right, the path lead inside an impossibly tall mountain, jagged as crags. To the left, a city sprawled upward and outward, innumerable skyscrapers jutting heavenward. A lump formed in Rarity’s stomach as she stared at the city, and an abrupt surge of fear shot up her spine. Shivering, Rarity looked back at the base of the path.
The unforked path lead toward the window, out of her field of view. Craning her neck, Rarity stared straight down. Far below, the path fused directly with what she could only assume was the wall of their room. Growing on the wall that separated the two was mane, thick as ivory, trailing in a tangled weave of pink and indigo to the ground below.
“I don’t believe it…” Rarity whispered.
“I do!” Spike turned towards Rarity. “Rarity, we did it! We can get out of here!”
“Ah – perhaps, Spike. But where are we escaping to, exactly?”
“Who cares? At least it’s something. C’mon, Rarity. You can’t seriously want to stay here forever!”
“Not in the least!”
“So?”
“Spike, are you familiar with the phrase ‘out of the frying pan, and into the fire’?”
“There’s a frying pan around here? Do you think there’s something for us to eat, too?”
“Spike.”
“Okay! Okay! Just trying to make a joke. But you’re not seriously thinking about staying here, are you?”
Rarity shook her head. “I’m not. Merely worried, is all - and you can hardly fault me for that. Still, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to investigate the mountain, if nothing else.”
“Uh.” Spike paused. “The…mountain?”
“Well, of course! Here – allow me a moment to explain, will you?” Rarity trotted over to the box, hesitating briefly before lifting it up and carrying it over to Spike. “Now. There were indentations, but nothing to fill them – yes?”
“Yeah, but-“
“-So there almost certainly SHOULD be something to fill them. Admittedly, I’m grasping at straws, but if this were a jewelry box, I’d assume that the jewelry had merely been misplaced, rather then that the box was meant to be entirely without contents.” Rarity shuddered. “Though why some sorts of careless ponies would leave jewelry simply ‘lying about’ is beyond me. I’m certainly loath to consider how my friends handle THEIR accessories, even the inexpensive ones, but-“
“Uh, Rarity?”
“Right! Apologies! The point is: I’ll assume that the box is supposed to be filled, but no longer is. So if we can find whatever is supposed to fill the box and, ah…’re-fill’ it, then it should help us better understand our surroundings. ‘Re-fill’. Ugh. What a banal choice of words. Where in Equestria is Twilight Sparkle and the walking thesaurus that is her brain? I’d certainly appreciate a brief expansion of my vocabulary at the moment.”
“Um…” Spike pointedly looked behind Rarity. Rarity followed his gaze back to the bed, where…
“Oh. I suppose that is my answer, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, ah…that aside, my point still stands. As far as I see it, our goal is to find the contents of this jewelry box, return them and see what happens. It isn’t an answer, but at least it’s a goal.”
“Well, I mean, I was kind of suggesting that less then a minute ago.”
“Ah. So you did, I suppose.”
Spike frowned. “Are you gonna keep taking my words and using them at me whenever I sound like I’m unsure about something?”
“If it keeps us on track, yes. Consider me the Loyal Opposition – or a Princess’ advisor, I suppose. Ooh! Or you could be my advisor. So long as you promise to be a perfect gentledragon around a proper lady, of course-“
“Rarity!”
“Yes?”
“I never said that I DIDN’T want to do this. Geez!”
“Then why are you acting petulant? Does my logic about the box make sense?”
“Yeah?”
“And does it make sense that it mountains are likely to contain gems?”
“Yeah?”
“And, possibly, hoards of treasure?”
“Yeah…”
“And that, in order to find the proper contents of the box, going into the mountain is the best possible way to find gems, and treasure, and therefore the sort of gems and treasure that are most likely to properly go in the box?”
“I guess.”
“Then.” Rarity huffed. “I was prepared to articulate a much more eloquent and intricate argument, but now you’ve forced me to speak tersely. So. If you can find no fault with my logic, then why are you disagreeing with me?”
“…I’m still kind of mad that you’re saying all the stuff I was already trying to tell you.”
“But?”
“Well…uh.” Spike scratched the back of his neck, the resent on his face sliding into culpability.
“…Is something wrong, Spike?”
“It’s just…I’ve got a bad feeling about the mountain, Rarity. Like, REALLY bad. Like, even if all the stuff you said and that I was going to say makes sense, and there’s no reason for me to get a bad feeling about going in the mountain…I still feel really bad about it.”
“Do you think it’s some sort of trap, then?”
“Not…” Spike trailed off. “…I mean, anything here could be a trap, or dangerous, or something like that. It’s not like there’s anything specific I can think of, but if I think about the place I just kind of…feel sick. Like I’m gonna have a really, REALLY bad time if I go in there.”
Part of Rarity wanted to sympathize with Spike. Part of her wanted to tell him that she knew exactly how he felt, how her branch of logic was at least a little craven and selfish, how she felt just as scared about the city as he felt about the mountain.
But part of her knew that if she gave even an inch about this issue, that her logic might betray her and she’d be forced to go into the city after all. The image of a gray mass of buildings briefly sprang into her imagination, followed by a surge of nausea and trepidation.
“Spike…” Rarity sighed. “Perhaps it’s a bit hypocritical for me to state, but – we really do have to work together. I know I’ve been ungenerous and argumentative, and I’ve fought with you a bit more then I would have liked to, but we can still make a good team, can’t we?”
“I mean, I never really thought that we didn’t make a good team, Rarity.”
“But good team members need to work TOGETHER, Darling. You and me. Me and you. I’ll resist the urge to break out into song if it helps you understand that I’m starting to earnestly believe that I can’t do this by myself.”
Spike remained silent, claws clenched into tiny fists, trembling.
“I know that you’re scared, Spike. But I need to be brave.”
Spike blinked. Abruptly, he sat down on the floor and pulled his knees in front of his chest, eyes cast toward the ground.
“…Rarity?”
“Yes?”
“How did you feel when you found Twilight?”
Rarity frowned, sitting down in front of Spike. “Do you mean when I first met her?”
“No, I mean…when you found her. In the library. A couple of days ago.”
“That’s a rather…leading question, isn’t it?” Rarity paused. “…How did you feel?”
“I mean, a lot of things.” Spike sniffed. “But I mean, like…It’s not frustrated, it’s not helpless, it’s…”
“Spike.” Rarity placed one of her hooves against Spike’s claw. “I’m listening.”
“…You know the phrase ‘this can’t be happening’? It’s…sort of like that. I know I’m not explaining that well either, but…”
“You didn’t think that it could happen?”
“It WASN’T really happening, was how I felt. Like it wasn’t something that was going to stick. Ponies just needed to figure out what was wrong, and make them not-wrong, and then everything would go back to being happy. And when I was trying to figure out her notes or talking with Princess Celestia about it, then it felt like something that wasn’t going to be a problem, and everything would get better really soon. ‘Cause if I didn’t think that I was working to fix things and if I started thinking that Twilight might be like that forever, I couldn’t stand it.”
Spike’s claws trembled.
“I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t think about her or magic or anything else. I couldn’t think about trying to be willing to live in world where she was…where that happened to her. I couldn’t do it.”
Spike sniffed.
“I couldn’t.”
“Spike…”
“I’m not sure I really would have burned her notes, Rarity. I’m not sure that I could try to think about her not coming back. I mean, I felt okay when we were working this afternoon, and kind of okay when we were working on all the stuff with this room, y’know? But if I just sort of gave up…”
“Shh. Spike.” Rarity reached up and gently traced a hoof down his cheek. “You’ve been more then wonderful so far. We’re going to be fine. There’s no reason to worry.”
“But that’s the thing”, Spike replied, lifting his head to look at Rarity. “I think about the mountain and I can’t not feel worried. I know it doesn’t make any sense to feel like that, but just thinking about going in there makes me feel that…makes me feel like I can’t do it. Exactly the same way. I know that we have to go in there, like you said, but isn’t there anything else we can do?”
Rarity shook her head. “I’m afraid not, dear.”
“Well, what about the city? Maybe we could…”
“NO.” Rarity drew her hoof over her mouth as Spike winced. She hadn’t meant to refuse as loudly as she had. “Erm…I mean, it’s not a good idea, isn’t it?”
“Well, maybe they’ll have treasure somewhere. Maybe there’s a jeweler somewhere that-“
“I think we both know perfectly well that, even if we find one, it won’t have the sort of thing we’ll be looking for.” Unbidden fear and anger gave her words a steely edge. “And even if there was some sort of map, or guide, or whatever other rationalization you might be trying to drum up at the moment - I doubt it’ll be as useful as simply investigating by ourselves.”
“Are you sure?”
“YES.”
Spike turned back to the floor and hunched his shoulders for a couple of seconds, then pulled himself upright. “O-okay. Let’s just, um…let’s go. Th-there’s no real reason for us to wait around any more, right?”
Rarity stood up, sighing in relief. “There isn’t, no. The sooner we can figure out what to do, then the sooner we’ll be able to escape. Still – I appreciate that you’ve made this as easy as you can.”
“I-I really don’t like this place, Rarity. I’m not sure whether or not I don’t like it more then you, uh, more then you don’t like it, but…but I feel like it’s making us fight with each other, and it’s making me do things I feel really bad about, and-“
Spike gasped as Rarity reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder.
“My little Spikey-Wikey”, Rarity whispered. “You’re so brave…”
Silence fell as the two stared at each other. Rarity’s smile was soft, but genuine; Spike’s blush was practically luminescent. Seconds blurred together in the warm tingle of contact until, finally, Rarity pulled her hoof away.
“I’m going to open the window” Rarity stated, voice even and calm. “From there, we’ll climb down the…mane, I suppose?...and head down the path to the right. Follow my hoofsteps until I’m inside the mountain. I’ll talk to you once we’re inside.”
“Um…so what’s going to happen when you open the window?”
“I don’t know, Spike.”
Rarity trotted over to the window. The handle for the pane was at the bottom of the window; it would be possible, if not easy, to open the window wide.
“I don’t know, but I suppose it’s best to expect the worst.”
Rarity’s horn glowed, and a latch locking the window in place came free. Hoisting herself up a little higher, Rarity grabbed onto the pane handle.
“Brace yourself, Spike.”
Rarity pulled the window open wide.
