It had been two days since Twilight had stolen the egg.
Well… more like one, since the sun was coming up just as she brought the egg home. But still; she had had the egg for two full days now, and this was fast becoming her third.
The egg did not respond to student.
Twilight had checked every book in the house that might hold information about dragons or dragon eggs, and had come up disappointingly short. She dared not check the library or investigate the archives at the castle. The fastest way to get caught would be to incriminate herself by checking out a stack of books on dragon lore. Twilight may as well walk right up to Celestia and say, “I’ve taken your dragon egg.”
But then… hadn’t that been the original plan?
Twilight stopped pacing her room. Her thoughts began in all manner of places but always they ended with Twilight pacing and muttering to herself. So she stopped and approached the blanket-swaddled egg in its hiding place inside her toy chest. The toys were now all crammed under her bed, of course. And the egg… The egg had done nothing.
For almost three days now the egg had done nothing. It remained steadily warm and retained a healthy heartbeat, Twilight guessed. She had been listening to it by pressing her ear against the shell and it sounded healthy enough. But it had not moved or reacted or hatched in any way at all.
Oh how Twilight had whiled away the hours lavishing the egg with spell after spell she thought might awaken it—all for nothing. If the egg did not hatch then Twilight could not claim victory over the test and demand her acceptance into Celestia’s school. That had been the plan, anyway…
Twilight found she had started pacing again. She wasn’t entirely sure of her plan anymore. Not just because it was proving more difficult than expected, but because news of her break-in at the hatchery had already leaked. Not publicly, no. But they knew. They knew. Cadence and Shining Armor and the way Cadence spoke about Celestia, ohhhh… they knew alright.
Something had gone down at the hatchery that night and nopony was exactly sure what but from what snippets Twilight could eavesdrop on it was clear that if anypony ever discovered what she had done she would be in BIG trouble.
It just wasn’t fair.
And to top it all off she suspected Shining Armor was starting to think she was crazy. She first noticed when she had tried to complain to him how her magic had clearly been drained by the Starburst Event, just as all the windows and streetlights had been drained of magic. She was sure if she could just jog his memory then he would recall how he had also lost his magic for several minutes.
Instead he insisted she was misremembering.
“Twilight,” he had said, “I’m sure that didn’t happen. When the blast hit I was with Cadence and I had to use my magic to protect us and a nearby family with a shield, because a streetlamp was about to fall on us. You can ask Cadence, she was there.”
Twilight didn’t need to ask Cadence. Those two would always back each other up. If Shining Armor was going to lie about loosing his magic then Cadence would just say the same thing and then Twilight would look silly, even though she was right. This always happened! Why did other ponies insist on making Twilight wrong about things? Twilight wasn’t wrong about things! The blast had drained her power and that was that! It wasn’t fair!
She was so worked up it took her a moment to realise somepony was knocking at her door.
“Twilight? Is everything okay?”
It was Cadence and she sounded concerned.
Twilight hurriedly and silently shut the toy box to hide the egg. Then she went to answer the door. “Cadence. Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just got in,” Cadence said. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she beamed, and entered the room.
Twilight saw that Cadence was levitating a folded piece of paper stamped with the royal seal. Twilight’s heart dropped down into her stomach. “…what… What did you, uh, want to see me about?” Twilight stammered.
Cadence stood at attention in the middle of the room and eye’d Twilight curiously. “Oh? Nothing. Just a little something from Celestia.”
It took all of Twilight’s self-control not to run screaming from the letter as Cadence passed it over with her magic. Twilight took it between her fore-hooves and almost dropped it from shaking. She closed her eyes and broke the seal, unfolding the paper as if it was going to explode in her face.
“…well?” Cadence prompted impatiently.
Twilight opened her eyes and glanced down at the letter. She stared. Her eyes ran over the lines and she gasped. “I… I…” She looked up. “I get to re-take the test?”
Cadence was nodding furiously and smiling as wide as a sunrise. “Yes! Twilight, of course you do. I’m sorry that it took so long.” She winced. “But everypony felt it wasn’t really fair what happened. The blast must have spooked the magic right out of you. It would have for any pony. I know I was shaken up. So of course you can re-take the test. The schools are opening again tomorrow and the examiners at Celestia’s school for Gifted Unicorns expect to see you there bright and early for your exam.”
Twilight continued to stare with her mouth hanging open.
Cadence continued to grin awkwardly. “…aren’t you excited?”
“Oh…” Twilight began. She shook her head and summoned some pep into her voice. “Oh yes! Finally! I can re-take the test! Thankyou, Cadence. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She rushed up and hugged her foalsitter tight. “Mmmm.”
“Awww,” Cadence said, hooking a foreleg around Twilight and nuzzling the top of her head. “I’m so pleased. I’m sure you’ll do spectacularly this time. Oh, and don’t worry about that whole dragon egg thing.”
Twilight stiffened and shot back from her. “What?” she squeaked.
Cadence laughed. “I said don’t worry. Since you already know it’s a trick question there’s obviously no point bringing it back when you re-take the exam. You’ll be getting straight into the real questions this time. So you can stop obsessing over it.” Cadence’s eyes got a little shifty for a moment. “Besides… it’s not a good time for dragon eggs,” she muttered, probably to herself.
Twilight swallowed nervously. “Oh. Good. Just… taking the test. Good old regular advanced magic test. Bright and early.”
Cadence nodded. “Sorry, Twilight. I know I haven’t seen much of you lately. And unfortunately this has to be it for today. But I’ll try and drop by tomorrow evening and you can tell me all about how your exam went.”
Cadence ruffled Twilight’s mane and waved goodbye before vanishing out the door and down the hall.
Twilight sighed and shut and locked her bedroom door again.
“Why aren’t I happy?” Twilight asked herself. “It’s all I ever wanted. A second chance. I know I’ll ace it this time for sure! So what’s wrong with me?”
“Oh,” said Twilight. “Maybe it’s because I already went to ridiculously extreme measures to prove myself, risking terrible punishment and probably committing what I’m pretty sure now was a crime, all because nopony was listening to me!”
“Right,” said Twilight, now pacing again. “And then they come and tell me that I didn’t have to do any of that. They’re going to let me go to school anyway. Can they really be this blind or do they just like to watch me dance?”
“Ha!” Twilight said. “I should show them… I’ll show them all after I bring this dragon to life and I prove that I deserve more than a pittance compensation! I deserve recognition, alright! I bested The Sphinx! I’m going to hatch this egg and I’m going to be better than the best. Because I know I deserve to be.”
“Yeah…” Twilight said, returning to the toy box. “I do deserve it.”
She fetched out the file of information, which she also kept in there. The stack of notes that read ‘Egg did not respond to student’ she pulled out and left in the box. Then she busied herself with reading whatever information she could about the egg. It was the piece of literature that knew the most, and yet it spoke to her only of things she did not understand. And this she found to be most frustrating.
Still, there were pictures. Drawings, mostly. Curious drawings that Twilight obsessed over. For example, there was a page on which was sketched a fully-gown adult dragon. It was a huge beast, all angular with mighty wings and razor fangs and the small eyes of a wild and menial beast.
After that was a sketch of a dragon… pup? A dragon calf? A hatchling? Whatever a baby dragon was called. It was still bestial and wild-looking, seeming to glare out from the page with ill-intent towards the one who watched it.
It was the third drawing that Twilight found most curious. At the top of the page was written the phrase ‘In Theory’ in block letters. The sketch was of a dragon, about equal to Twilight’s present height according to the measurements printed. A little note read: lock aging at this size. There were wings drawn at first, then scribbled out. A scrawled note read: too much agency. The shape of the dragon had been changed to be rounder and softer.
The claws and fangs were drawn less prominently here, so that they seemed harmless and inconsequential. Even the limbs seemed stumpy and stunted—not like the powerful muscled legs of the savage dragon sketches. The eyes of this dragon were bigger, brighter, more intelligent looking, but kinder and more docile. And next to the little sketch was a drawing of a burst of flame and one more scribbled note: Cannot feasibly remove fire component. Perhaps dragon’s magic can be changed into something more useful to our purposes.
The only other note on the page was an initialled ‘T.’ in the bottom right corner.
Twilight felt a little queasy as she closed up the folder. As she did after every read and re-read. She looked back at the purple spotted egg with newfound uncertainty. She had thought she was harbouring a dragon—a scaly, hot-blooded magical creature that she would some day have to release back into the wild so that it could roam and fly and do as other dragons did.
Instead what she actually had was… was… What did she have? Some strange domesticated experiment with the corners rounded off, that was stunted to never grow—not even grow wings? Had she not seen the first two pictures she would not have felt so uncomfortable about the possibility of the third. Perhaps what bothered her most was that the first two were sketched from fact—from life. The third was… was somepony’s fantasy creature, possibly now forced into existence inside the unborn egg that rested in Twilight’s cushioned toy box.
She put the folder back inside and closed the lid.
Who had given ponies the right? To take a baby—and unborn baby—and to shape and change it’s very nature and destiny before it even took breath in the world? What if the dragon didn’t like the future that now lay before it? What if the dragon felt cheated and betrayed by an unfair state of events? It wasn’t as if the dragon could just re-take being made.
Maybe Twilight should not hatch this egg. Maybe it was better not to bring such creatures to life. Let it rest peaceful and eternal in the egg where it did not need to think about such quandaries.
Twilight had begun to pace the room again. “To be or not to be…” she found herself reciting from her memory of an old play. And then, curiously, “that is not dead which can eternal lie.”
She paced on and continued to mutter, and the folded letter that Cadence had brought lay forgotten on the floor.