//------------------------------//
// On the Twelfth Day 
// Story: Twilight's 12 Pains of Christmas 
// by TheDriderPony 
//------------------------------//

	Twilight did not want to get up. What was the point anymore? So she didn't. 

And that was how Spike found her at nearly lunchtime, balled up under her covers.

"Twilight?" He ventured forward cautiously. A low moan oozed from beneath the covers in response. He sighed, and hopped up on the bed beside her. He kicked his legs idly. "Twilight..." he started, but the words died in the air. The awkward silence hung between them. Twilight in a terrible place, and Spike not knowing how to give her the help she needed.

"I don't know what to do Spike..." Her words were so quiet they barely reached him. "How can I call myself a rational scientifically-minded pony, when faced with all this..."

"I wouldn't know," he replied, "I've never been in any sort of situation like this."

"I could make it end," she whispered, "And all I'd have to do is give up my pride and sacrifice my belief that science and magic can explain the world."

"Well, not really." Spike admitted, "You've done it before."

A section of the Twi-lump moved. Almost like an ear had perked up curiously. Spike didn't notice.

"I mean," he continued, more voicing his thoughts than anything else, "I'm pretty sure this Pixie is behind everything, and I'm fine admitting that. I'm not as scientifically-minded as you, so maybe it's easier for me to accept the impossible. But you've done it too, before." He gazed upward, thoughtfully. "The way I see it, this Pixie is a lot like Pinkie. Pinkie's done a lot of impossible stuff, hay, she's constantly doing impossible stuff. And you tried to explain it. You spent weeks studying her every move, running every physical and magical test in the book. And in the end, you found nothing. You couldn't explain her impossible tricks. But that doesn't mean you suddenly denied that they ever happened. You gave up, shrugged, and decided 'That's Pinkie'. The same thing with Discord. There's not a single magical theory that can explain what he does, but you just accept that that's fine because he calls it 'Chaos Magic' and separates it from 'normal magic'. Sure there's a lot of legends about the Pixie, but I bet there's plenty about Discord too if you went looking." 

The lump behind Spike rose, like a pony raising her head.

"It's like, you can't accept things because they don't fit in your definition of the rules of how magic works, but you're also willing to ignore exceptions to those rules so long as they're classified as something outside of normal magic, like Pinkie or Discord. Can't you just call the Pixie something that works outside of normal magic?" He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I think it's kinda like that thing with the bumblebee you told me once. About how there's no way they should be able to fly but-" He stopped as he felt a thin bit of magic holding his lips together. He turned, to see Twilight looking at him.

"That'll do Spike," She smiled at him, "I think that's exactly what I needed to hear." She hopped up onto her hooves, renewed confidence and energy emanating from her like an aura. "I may not like the word 'believe', but I suppose I can accept that such a creature as the Hearth Warming Pixie could potentially exist, and perform feats through the use of some kind of unknown magic such as those seem here over the past two weeks."

Spike grew a cheeky grin. "That sure sounds like belief to me."

Twilight laughed as she jumped to the floor, performing an expert flip as she did. "Call it what you will, but I say it's time we appease this Pixie."

"You have a plan?"

Twilight's grin bordered on manic, but there was a sneaky spark in her eye. "Pinkie said this Pixie thrives on holiday cheer, right? So let's appease it with all the holiday festivities we can!"





Twilight threw open the doors to the kitchens. With a flare of her magic, every stove, oven, and cook-top flared to life. In marched the dancers, four by four, who took their places at various work stations. Twilight stood proudly at the head of the room. "Alright everypony! I know you're not bakers, some of you may have never cooked so much as a bowl of soup, but today, if we're going to stop these dislocations from happening to more innocent ponies, then we're going to need as many sweet  treats as we can churn out!"

One mare raised a hoof. "And you're sure this will work? Baking will stop more ponies from showing up?"

The fiery gleam of confidence echoed in Twilight's eyes as she responded. "Yes I am. To help you all out, I'm leaving my dutiful assistant Spike in charge. Please treat him with the respect you'd treat me."

She swiftly exited the room as Spike hopped up onto the long table that ran the length of the room. "Alright ladies!" he barked, "We've got a lot of baking to do! Stations one through four, you're on cookies. Five through eight, puddings. Nine through twelve, get me some cakes, pronto! Team thirteen, gingerbread village, on the double! Use your friends if you have trouble, but I am also here to answer your questions as well as provide assistance and advice. Do I make myself clear?" There was a general murmuring. "What was that? Did I hear a 'Yes Chef Spike'?"

"Yes, Chef Spike!" the mares cried in unison.

"Now that's what I like to hear!" He grabbed a stack of cookbooks from the end of the table and tossed them back over his head. A book landed in front of each team, falling open to pages relevant to exactly what he'd assigned. "Now let's get cooking!"





Twilight led the bureaucrats and the cows in decorating the castle proper. Though some had been done with her friends days earlier, most work had been forgotten in the recent chaos. The bureaucrats, they found, were especially good at coordinating decorations. Everything available was placed as efficiently as possible, every bauble evenly spaced, and every string of garland spread to cover the most possible area. Some of those with stronger stomachs even reapplied their enchanted springs, using the additional height to decorate higher balconies and window tops. 

The cows couldn't help as broadly as the others. Lacking the magic that allowed ponies to grip objects, they instead utilized their brute strength. Working in teams, they were able to coordinate moving large items of furniture into proper places or away from where they weren't needed.

The orphans practiced their music in the ballroom. Once Twilight had presented them with new crystal pipes (repurposed from Spike's still broken bathroom) they actually weren't half bad sounding. Twilight teamed them up with the band of drummers which had shown up that morning (a marching group from Seaddle). While the drummers weren't trained on woodwinds, they could still teach the tots about tempo, rhythm, and hitting the right notes. The birds also helped with this, as one of the ballet dancers had a secondary talent of bird-keeping. This made them far more manageable, even useful.

By that evening, everything was prepared.

It was a party to remember. The food was unending, and the music was actually good. Twilight unlocked the deep cellars and rolled out the good drink. Wine and spirits flowed freely, though a few ponies made sure to keep it clear of the foals. Spirits were high as laughter and frivolity filled the normally reserved halls. Even Twilight's sacred library was not immune to the powerful force of partying. The orphans competed to build the strongest holiday book forts, and tested them through combat by pillow. And after a few drinks, some of the adults joined in as well. Even Twilight joined in the festivities, though she worked hard to ensure the party would compensate for everypony missing Hearth Warming, as they probably would if the snow wasn't cleared soon. 

You wanted frivolity? You got it. Twilight thought to herself, Sweet snacks? I've got tables full. Holiday cheer? It's here in spades.  She smirked as she thought of everything this Pixie had put her through. You want me to keep the holidays in my heart and acknowledge you? Well here's my response: When it comes to working together and friendship, you messed with the wrong pony, Pixie. Hit me with your best shot.

~~~ On the Thirteenth Day~~~

Twilight awoke, groggy and maybe a little hungover. She rubbed her eyes as she struggled to stand. Why was her bed so hard and uncomfortable? Oh, she'd slept on the floor, that would explain it. She stretched out, hearing her neck and back crack several times. She tilted her head left and right, producing two more distinct cracks which echoed through the silent halls. 

Wait, silent halls? Twilight strained her ears. Everything was quiet. Not a 'there's nopony her quiet', not a 'everypony is asleep quiet', this was a 'there is no one anywhere nearby' kind of silence. Shaking out her stiff muscles, she trotted down the halls at a brisk pace. The remains of a party were everywhere. Empty cups and half-finished plates festooned nearly every flat surface. A few pieces of garland were hanging loose by one end, causing them to drape across doorways like hanging vines. Twilight finally reached the ballroom doors, which were slightly blocked by a mini-fortress of mattresses and pillows. Brushing them aside, she forced her way through the doors.

The hall was a mess. If the hallways were the results of a minor scuffle, then the ballroom was a warzone. It was impossible to take a step without landing on something. A crushed party hat, a slice of unfinished cake, a large vegetable oil slick. Twilight took great care to avoid the latter at all costs. She eventually made her way to the center of the room, where a large pile of debris pulsed slightly. She brushed aside the pile to reveal a slumbering dragon wearing a lampshade. With a soft cooing, a partridge poked it's head out from the top of the shade, creating the comical image of a dragon with a partridge's head wearing a strange dress. Twilight shook his slightly.

"No Princess..." he murmured, "I'll make sure she doesn't study too late..."

"Spike." Twilight shook him again, "You need to wake up, something's wrong."

Slowly, the adolescent dragon rose from his slumber. "Ugh... my head... What's the problem Twilight?"

"Look around you."

He turned about as he rubbed his rapidly widening eyes. "Whoa... what a mess. I hope I'm going to get some help cleaning this up Twi."

"No Spike, not the mess. Listen." She paused so they could both listen.

"I don't hear anything." he eventually responded. 

"Exactly. Nothing. Silence. We're alone."

"Alone? But what about-"

"Gone. I haven't seen so much as a bird since I woke up."

The partridge still on Spike's head made itself known with a curious coo. "Not counting Surely." Twilight recanted.

Spike's stunned expression slowly grew into a smile. "Did- did we do it? Did we win?"

Twilight smiled back. "Yes Spike, I think we did. We're finally free."

Just then, a sound echoed through the halls. It was faint, but but occupants of the ballroom heard it. They swiveled toward the source of the sound. There was another, it was a dull echoing thud. Nodding in instant agreement, Spike vaulted onto Twilight's back as she spread her wings. She sailed into the hall, shifting direction every time the noise repeated. The pair soon found themselves at the front hall again, where the noise echoed too much to pinpoint.

"What do you think it is?" Spike asked as he cast his gaze about the room.

"I don't know Spike," her horn was already lit, prepared for whatever it could be, "But I won't take too kindly to a new problem so soon after we sorted out the last one."

They waited for the noise to repeat. It didn't. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Suddenly, without warning, there was a knock on the main door. A perfectly normal innocent knock.

Almost instinctively, Spike hopped off Twilight and opened the door.

As soon as he opened it, a very familiar purple pony walked in.

"You know, they say it's hard coming back after a long time away, but I don't think this is what they meant." Starlight Glimmer quipped. A tiny smirk grew at the corner of her mouth, though she visibly fought it. "I heard you've been having some difficulty getting out of the house Twilight, so I thought I'd come back early to lend a hoof." She looked confused for a moment, before frowning and smacking her face with her hoof and a groan. "Shoot, I said both! I worked so hard on choosing a line for my big dramatic entrance and I mucked it all up!"

"Starlight!" Twilight cried as she ran over to her friend and student. "You came back from your trip early! What happened to Hearth's Warming with your village?"

Starlight smiled. "When I heard about how you were stranded in your own home by magically insulated snow, well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't come to your aid?"

Spike glanced behind her, seeing a pony-sized tunnel that ran for an incredibly long distance, at the end of which a pinprick of light marked the exit. Meanwhile, Starlight and Twilight continued talking.

"They gave up on trying to dig the houses out from the top down," Starlight reported, "it was just too deep. So now instead everypony is digging out tunnels from one door to the next, and along all the major roads. The pegasi aren't too happy about it, but it's working effectively for now, or at least until we can come up with a better solution." She glances behind Twilight and finally noticed the party carnage behind her. "Whoa, looks like you made the most of your time trapped. Are there other ponies stuck here as well that they didn't know about?"

Twilight smiled, but shook her head. "It's a long story, Starlight, but one I think you'd be interested in hearing." She turned, her foreleg on Starlight's withers as they began the long walk toward daylight, "Tell me, have you ever heard of The Hearth's Warming Pixie?"