In Spike’s eyes, Nuance seemed a little stronger, and a little happier. His face, bruised and still swollen, was hard to read, but the colt’s mood seemed better. He sat in a half-full tub and Spike was watchful, mindful of how frail Nuance was. Just because he seemed better was no good excuse to be careless and relax his guard. The little unicorn had both eyes closed and appeared to be quite relaxed.
“Do you need your pain medicine?” Spike asked, and the little colt shook his head from side to side, but made no other effort to reply. Feeling the need talk, the dragon kept going, trying to strike up a conversation. “Did you have a nice day? You seem happier. I bet it was nice getting out and seeing something new, right?”
“Yes.” The word was soft-spoken and difficult to hear over the splashing of the bathwater. Nuance slumped over a bit and appeared to be relaxing. “Today was nice.”
“Well,” Spike began, “I’m glad that you had a nice day. Seems like you’ve been having a lot of bad days.”
“Indeed.”
Something about Nuance’s response made Spike think of Blueblood. The dry, curt responses were all part of Blueblood’s hateful persona, and Spike knew the real Blueblood. Sometimes, they hung out together and made impossible bottles—a fancy term for model ships inside of a glass bottle. Spike liked it for the challenge, it was difficult to do and required a great deal of concentration, as well as fine motor control. Blueblood liked it because it appealed to his meticulous nature. Feeling a bit inspired, Spike made a mental note to ask Blueblood about inviting Nuance to their next get together.
“Everything feels so different,” Nuance blurted out, and the words startled Spike, who jumped in place. “Everything feels so different here. I feel so different here. I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Sometimes, we need a change of scenery.” Spike drummed his claws against his stomach, unsure of what else to say, but feeling a need to do something because Nuance was talking. The little colt needed to open up. He chose the honest, direct approach: “If you have anything you want to say, just let it out. I’ll listen, even if I don’t know how to respond.”
Feeling hopeful, Spike heard Nuance take a deep breath, and he hoped the colt was prepared to say more…
A quick headcount revealed that ponies were missing. Two, in fact. Twilight felt a faint, almost unnoticeable shiver of panic. Foals scarpered off, that is what foals did, and they considered it an accomplishment to vanish from a room full of adults. Under normal circumstances, Twilight would not worry, but this was the Royal Brood. Corbie, the cute adorable one, was missing. Nuance was in the bath and Radiance was having the tangles in his mane and tail brushed out by Rarity.
Rather than freak out about it, Twilight got right to the point: “Okay, where has Corbie slipped off to and where is Pebble?”
“Everything’s fine, hun,” Applejack drawled while she watched Radiance’s futile efforts to get free from Rarity. “I can hear the worry in your voice. Pebble just took Corbie back to her room. I think they’re gonna have themselves a girl talk.”
“Hmm.” Twilight’s lips pressed together, forming a thin line, and deep wrinkles of worry appeared upon her forehead, beneath her forelock. She did not realise it, but for a moment, Twilight Sparkle was the spitting image of her mother, Twilight Velvet. Had she realised it, she might have had a full blown freak out, because every mare fears growing up to become her mother, except for maybe Pebble, who strove to be like her mother in every way.
And that is what worried Twilight. Wickering, she exited the room.
“Normally, ponies knock before barging in,” Pebble remarked while Twilight stood in the doorway. She was holding a brush in her fetlock and was sitting on the bed just behind Corbie, who now gleamed from being brushed.
With a soft, sheepish whinny, Twilight stepped into the room proper and shut the door behind her. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but given that Pebble had developed a rebellious streak and was prone to say things—things a little filly shouldn’t hear—Twilight felt worried. It was painful to realise that she didn’t know Pebble as well as she thought, and it bothered her that Pebble had changed when Twilight wasn’t paying attention.
“Look, we were just having a talk.” Pebble didn’t even bother to look at Twilight while she spoke, and focused on Corbie instead. She returned to brushing the filly, and Corbie made happy little grunts as she leaned into the brush.
“About what?” Twilight asked, afraid, and not knowing why.
“About being fat,” Pebble responded while she ran the brush down Corbie’s neck.
Twilight bristled a bit, and she wasn’t sure that she liked this conversation. “Pebble Pie, you’re not fat—”
“It’s not nice to lie, Twilight Sparkle. You of all ponies should know better.” Pebble blinked once, shook her head from the left to the right once, and clucked her tongue.
“Pebble don’t you even start—”
“Hey, Twilight, you want to explain to Corbie why it is important to lie to ponies sometimes like you did to me?” Pebble asked, cutting Twilight off. “We could do it right now… I’m sure you have that lecture memorised, about how it is necessary to lie for the sake of civility.”
Flabbergasted, Twilight did not know what to say.
“See, Corbie, that’s exactly what I was just talking about. Ponies will lie to you to spare your feelings so they won’t hurt you.” For a moment, Pebble gave Twilight a pointed stare, and then she looked away. “Your real friends will be honest with you, no matter what. Sometimes, it is better to be blunt. To be straightforward.”
“And is Sumac honest with you?” Twilight asked, hoping to undermine Pebble’s words.
“Yes,” Pebble replied without a moment of hesitation. “Sumac will tell me that I’m fat. He’ll say it to my face. But he also tells me that because I’m chunky, that’s the reason he finds me attractive, so I’m okay with that. That’s the value of honesty… when Sumac is honest enough to say I’m fat, I know for absolute certain that he is being honest with me when he says he loves me and desires me exactly how I am. If he lied to me, even once, like saying that I wasn’t fat, that I was fluffy, or something stupid like that, I would always, always be wondering what else he might be lying to me about.”
Twilight Sparkle found herself stupefied, and she wasn’t sure how to continue this conversation. She had just wandered right into a minefield, a battlefield of Pebble’s own choosing, and there was no way to win this skirmish. After some thought, she decided to let this ride, and that she was going to leave Pebble to talk with Corbie, come what may. For all of the times that Pebble tried to be like her mother, right now, she was fighting like her father—with absolute ruthlessness. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad, and some of Pebble’s individuality might rub off on Corbie.
“Don’t keep her up too late,” Twilight said while she opened the door behind her. “I’m going to go so the two of you can talk. Have a nice time, both of you.”
Looking solemn for her age, Corbie lifted a tiny hoof and waved goodbye.
Sitting down in a chair, Twilight Sparkle let out a huff, and then sat in silence, alone in a crowd. Pebble’s words had left her shaken, and the past few days had been trying. Still, much had been accomplished. She had a great deal of information that could be coalesced into a fine report, and then, together, she and Celestia, her compeer, could work on fixing everything, or at least make some improvements. Twilight was confident that she had something to contribute to the battle plan, whatever it might be, and she was certain that because of her analytic nature, progress could be made. Cadance was wonderful at what she did, Celestia had done the best with what she had to work with, and Twilight figured that her contributions could create a tipping point.
Things would get better.
Her study, her private study, her chambers, they were full of life. It hadn’t been this way in a while, and Twilight had pleasant memories of when Pebble and Sumac were younger. When they were little, they had stayed with her here, in this place, along with Flurry. But that seemed to be happening less and less. Sumac was too busy with his science projects and snogging. Pebble was already beginning university level assignments, without even knowing what she wanted to do with her life. Flurry had hit the age where there was a huge rush to prepare her for the responsibilities she would have as an adult.
These private chambers got lonesome, with just her and Spike. Awful lonesome. And quiet too. A level of quiet that sometimes, she wasn’t ready to face, so it drove her to go elsewhere, seeking sound along with companionship. Even worse, there were times when Spike was gone, and this place became unbearable.
How terrible it must have been for Celestia to have been alone in that castle…
Her thoughts became murky with ink, and Twilight’s eyes now had a vacant stare to them. She had drifted through an ocean of time, sometimes merged and at one with Eternity. There had been vast periods of loneliness, but the work, the learning, the observation of key events had kept Twilight busy. The things she had seen… multiple occasions where the equine race had almost been driven to extinction, and with the death of the species, the planet would have soon followed.
She had seen entire civilisations rise and fall. Small, insignificant tribes had become vast empires, and then had faded away into nothingness. Great bright shining lights illuminated the world, only to be snuffed out by the darkness. Others had been pulled from the darkness and became a shining beacon of righteousness. And then there were ponies like Dim, who had been pulled from the darkness, but had never quite recovered from it, yet were still necessary in the defense of the great light of civilisation. She had seen so many come and go, the light and dark had ebbed and flowed like the tide coming in and out.
After all of that, Twilight was ready for other things.
Her vision came into focus and she saw Seville, who approached, looking sheepish. Twilight was unable to stop the flow of ink, it had infused into every wrinkle, every crevice of her brain, and it flowed through the fine veins of her eyes, altering her vision. For a moment, she saw many different futures for Seville, all of which came down to the choices that he made.
The choices that they made… together.
A nexus approached—Twilight had a keen awareness of it—an important leaping off point for a great many events. A linchpin moment that spawned entire futures, including some futures that might spring from Twilight’s own loins. She shivered, terrified, overwhelmed by everything, and then, when she blinked, the ink went away along with the haze of precognition.
“Seville, is there something you want?” Twilight asked of the earth pony standing beside her chair. It was almost as if a supplicant had approached her throne, but this was different. Twilight was certain that this was different, it had to be, but she couldn’t say how at the moment. Seville looked terrified, and this bothered Twilight.
She became aware of the fact that the entire room had gone silent, and this bothered her.
The yellow-orange earth pony licked his lips, his tongue darting out and making a quick, sudden movement. His nostrils flared and his tail flicked off to his left. Twilight leaned forwards in her chair, bracing herself by placing her right front hoof on the arm of said chair, and tried to ignore the fact that she was having some trouble breathing.
“You can do it!” Rainbow Dash said in a whisper that was quite loud.
“Shut up, Rainbow, you’ll ruin everything.”
Coughing, Seville managed to get up enough nerve to say, “Princess, your humble servant approaches, hoping for a favour…”
Her left hoof came to rest against her barrel, and her wings now felt too hot and itchy. Twilight realised what was going on, and that she was powerless to stop it. Seville had committed to it, no doubt pushed into doing it by her friends, and turning him away would mean hurting somepony that she treasured as a friend.
“And what might that be?” Twilight replied, trying to sound regal so she wouldn’t spoil the moment, but all that came out was an awkward, almost adolescent squeak, followed by a grunt when Applejack slugged Rainbow Dash to keep her quiet. “What favour does my knight journalist want from me?”
At this point, there was a pony-pile on Rainbow Dash by everypony, to keep her quiet.
“A kiss.” Seville almost choked on the words, and his eyes went wide with alarm when he realised that he had actually said them. His ears began doing a funky, complicated dance, moving up, moving down, rotating, and splaying.
This was an awful lot like when she used to play with her dolls when she was little. The daughter of a noble family, she had grown up on stories of courtly romance and aristocratic affections. She was quite shocked that Seville would approach her in such a manner, in such a way, but this shock wasn’t a bad thing. Twilight often lamented that the courtly romance of the days of yore had gone out of fashion.
Love was just one of many engines of survival.
“Say something, you dork, stop thinking eggheaded thoughts—mmph!” Rainbow was cut off by Pinkie Pie jamming a hoof into her mouth.
“Okay.” Twilight didn’t know what else to say, she couldn’t find anything quite as meaningful as Seville had brought to the table. Sitting in her makeshift throne, she tried to look as princessly as possible as she leaned forwards, tilted her head off to the side, and waited, not knowing what to do next.
What happened next was quite a surprise. Something soft and fuzzy brushed up against her mouth, making her whole body jerk, and she felt an electric tingle that was almost painful. Then, Seville pulled away. That was it. Twilight took a moment to analyse what had just happened, and she came to a dizzying conclusion: she had just been kissed—but it was not the kiss she had expected—and static electricity was a never ending problem for mammals with hairy bodies.
Taking matters into her own hooves, Twilight took a more practical approach to getting what she wanted. Reaching out, she grabbed Seville by the cheeks, pulled him in, and pressed her lips against his. There was another crackle of electricity, an audible one this time that sizzled the lips, and then Twilight realised that she had no idea of what to do next. She lingered, her muzzle smooshed against Seville’s, and she could feel the hot breath from his nostrils against her face. It jolted her senses, and she pulled away with a somewhat slobbery slurp.
That wasn’t quite what she had expected either, but as with anything else, practice would make it better. She blinked once, twice, and then a third time, looking into Seville’s eyes. Something had changed between them, a line had been crossed, and there would be no going back, no returning to how things had been. Their friendship had become something… else, but Twilight didn’t know what it was, not quite yet.
It was the beginning of something wonderful though, she knew that.