//------------------------------//
// Gratias Tibi Ago 
// Story: Grief is the Price We Pay 
// by Scyphi 
//------------------------------//

As predicted, the changelings publicly walking about Vanhoover made headline news across the city by the following morning. The news snowballed from there across Equestria, moving like lightning, and the reaction from the public seemed half and half. One side was open to the idea of reformed changelings and the possibility of them becoming allies, while the other was not convinced the changelings had changed at all, either unwilling to see them as allies or believed it didn’t matter—they still needed to be held responsible for their past actions. Left with no immediate majority, it remained unclear which side would ultimately prevail in the country, but neither side seemed very willing to give up their stance on the matter, even with the anti-changeling side on average quickly proving itself to be the more…belligerent in tone. But the exact reactions to the ideological divide depended on the region, as some regions bore more anti-changeling supporters than others.

Vanhoover proved to be one place that was notably more pro-changeling than anti-changeling. Clearly, the visiting changelings, brief as their visit was, had successfully left their mark.

Of course there were still a scant few outliers who were technically on neither side. The fact that the reformed changelings didn’t entirely match the appearance of the old changelings left room for some confusion with those lacking the whole story. This naturally led to a group of conspiracy theorists who claimed the “so-called” changelings who’d appeared in Vanhoover couldn’t actually be real changelings. They thus concluded it was all part of a government sponsored publicity stunt serving to cover-up for a bigger chain of events taking place between Equestria and the Changeling Kingdom…or so a notably obscure tabloid paper Trixie found one day claimed. She bought a copy and brought it back to Fly’s shop just so they could all have a good laugh about the nonsense it spouted on the matter, which they did. It helped that it was clear there weren’t many out there taking the silly theories too seriously.

What was being taking seriously was what the repercussions meant for Equestria and its immediate future, as it was quickly finding itself caught up in the larger political ramifications from the story circulating around and ponies learned something of the tale of Thorax and his end fate. And many seemed to agree that the government, especially the royal family, had mishandled the whole situation quite spectacularly. Soon word reached Vanhoover that protesters—not many yet, but they were there—had started showing up in Canterlot so to complain about what they saw as a lack of response to circumstances they felt needed to change…immediately.

Oddly, Spike found himself feeling a little bad for that. It wasn’t lost on him that this was precisely the very situation officials had wished to put off by keeping the story under wraps until after their investigations had concluded, so he felt responsible for the repercussions now arising. It didn’t help that Spike was often being publically recognized as the initiator of the “changeling movement”—as the media was calling it—due to all sources of the story eventually coming back to him, thanks to his so-called “speech” at Thorax’s memorial service bringing it to public attention. This was aided by one attending changeling with good memory who had been able to relate, almost word for word, Spike’s comments, and copies of it started circulating Equestria immediately afterwards. Thus when asked who got the movement started, the public generally pointed to Spike, though of course not all of them thought that was a bad thing.

Regardless, Spike kept expecting the officials to swoop down to hold him responsible for the political snafu he had landed them in. But it didn’t come. The most Spike got was a sternly-worded form letter reminding him that he had been asked not to publically speak of the matter and expressed disappointment that he hadn’t…but otherwise they left Spike unscathed, free to live his life as before. It was unclear why exactly. He thought it might be because news of the inquiry itself had yet to reach the ears of the public and thus it was able to continue undeterred for now. Or so he had every reason to believe; there was still no word on its progress and if it would be announcing any verdicts soon, if at all. But while the officials were willing to leave Spike and those associated with him alone, it wasn’t quite the same story for the rest of the public.

The day after the eventful services, Fly Leaf received the replacement glass needed to fix her front door, and upon doing so, decided it was time to reopen her shop for business. “It’ll help get back a bit of normality, I think,” she reasoned when announcing this.

So reopen it did, later in the day than normal, and as there had been no announcing in advance that the shop was reopening that day, business was limited to random walk-ins because their more regular customers weren’t yet aware the shop was reopening that day, altogether halving business for that day. But Spike resumed his usual positions working in the shop as before, and Trixie jumped in to help too, learning some of the basic tasks around the shop on the go. And Fly was ultimately glad to have their support too, as despite the lowered number of customers, things still got hectic at points…but it wasn’t because of ponies coming to shop.

They came wanting to meet the ones who’d known Thorax personally and to hear the tale straight from their mouths.

Some even came seeking autographs, from Spike in particular. Spike had no tolerance for that though—any papers that got shoved in his direction he made sure suffered “unfortunate accidents” shortly thereafter, leaving the requester with no autograph to show for it.

In fact, Spike only wanted to do his job in the shop without distraction, not play the part of the celebrity, even if it was well-meaning—many of the ponies were supportive of Spike’s side of the story…or at least what they knew of it. But that was the problem, of course. The general details were public knowledge now, but many of the finer details of what happened still were not, and the eager ponies recognized that the one who most likely could give them up in full was Spike.

Spike didn’t want to be dragged back through the painful memories though, so with strained politeness, he refused anyone who asked for details. They’d then turn to Fly Leaf and Trixie to ask instead, seen as the next best, but Fly Leaf had little more tolerance for it herself, and even Trixie got tired of all of the attention real fast, wearing her thin. At one point, the poor mare, who had otherwise been in fairly good spirits all day, broke down under the strain and had to retreat into the back so to weep and vent some stirred up emotions. After that, Fly Leaf put her hoof down and ruled that service would only be given to ponies actually there to shop. Any pony there for anything else would immediately be turned away. It took a bit of enforcing, and it helped when Spike decided it’d be better if he kept out of sight working in the back, but this did help to stem the flood.

These many excitements all aside though, life gradually started to fall back into a routine for those at Fly Leaf’s Books and Stationery, but it couldn’t quite be called normal, given that Thorax was now absent and it was felt strongly. Spike felt it every time he stepped into his room and saw all of Thorax’s belongings, still where the changeling had last left them as Spike didn’t have the heart to do much of anything with them himself. There was more than he realized anyway, notably offsetting the number of belongings he himself had owned…at least until the boxes of his Ponyville things started arriving at the shop, shipped to him as Twilight had promised.

Thus far Spike hadn’t done much to unpack the boxes now stacked at random around the room. On one end it was mostly because trying to hurt doubly so; it reminded Spike of everything he had lost in all of this, both in his changeling friend and the life he had left behind in Ponyville. But on the other, it also made the dragon realize that he wasn’t sure where to put it all without also going through Thorax’s belongings…which raised the painful question of whether or not Spike really wanted to hold onto them. He didn’t like the idea of parting with the reminders, but at the same time knew very well he wouldn’t actually do anything with most of any of them, which seemed like a waste that weighed even heavier on Spike’s conscience.

He hoped to give himself a bit of wiggle room by telling Trixie she was free to go through Thorax’s belongings and keep anything she wanted, thinking that since she and Thorax held similar likes, surely something would catch her eye. But Trixie paled at the very idea just as much as Spike did and always seemed to find some excuse to turn them down. The one time Spike talked her to come into the room to at least look, she spent most of it realizing and then lamenting over the fact that Thorax never finished getting caught up on his Sky Trek books, coming close but falling quite short. She wouldn’t even take Thorax’s record player, which Spike offered to her so to replace the one she had lost at the changeling hive. Instead, at her own suggestion, she took the record player that was among Spike’s Ponyville belongings which Spike hadn’t even considered offering up to anyone—not out of sentimental value but because he knew the player was considerably older, worn down, and in overall poorer shape. He felt Trixie should have the player of better quality, but Trixie was insistent. So in the end, much of Thorax’s things remained where they were.

Either way, life was still, somehow, trudging on undeterred. And in many ways…that felt satisfactory enough. Fly Leaf was back to running her shop and Spike was back as the dutiful dragon in her employ. Trixie was there to help pick up the slack too, and Fly was soon telling the showmare just how helpful she was being.

“You can totally stay and keep helping too, if you want,” Fly added semi-cryptically, leaving Trixie to then turn to Spike and ask, confused, if Fly had just offered to hire her.

Spike was of the opinion that she was and said as such. But not to his great surprise, the longer Trixie stayed in Vanhoover, the more restless she seemed to become. Though Spike and Fly both welcomed her in the shop, Trixie clearly felt like she was out of place. It just wasn’t the life she knew, or the life she wanted. It wasn’t until the start of the week following that she finally came forward with her choice, but when she made the announcement that morning while they sat at breakfast, it was one they had already seen would be coming.

“I’m…thinking I’m going to start making preparations to go on my way soon,” she said solemnly, half-heartedly stirring the bowl of cereal she had been eating. “At least, long enough to get back my wagon, and then…well…” she trailed off, as if ashamed.

But Fly was immediately supportive. “Go back to the life of a traveling showmare?” she finished as she glanced at Trixie over the top of the newspaper she was reading. “If I’m perfectly honest, Trixie, that just might be where you need to be in the end…someplace familiar and natural for you.”

“It’s just it feels like I’d be…running away,” Trixie admitted.

“You’re not running away,” Spike offered, who had long been pondering similar thoughts about his own course in life. “You’re just moving on, settling back into life. And let’s face it, Trixie…you’re a showmare. It’s what you know best. It’s what you do best.”

Trixie made a sheepish smile. “Trixie is pretty good,” she relented, allowing her showmare persona to surface briefly. It had actually become something of a rare sight ever since Thorax had passed away, so to see it be expressed now seemed like a sign Trixie was indeed recovering.

Changed, perhaps, Spike inwardly reminded himself while mulling upon it, but still recovering…and that’s more important right now.

“I guess the other thing that’s holding me back,” Trixie went on after a momentary pause, “is that, for the first time, going back to the life of a traveling showmare feels…awfully lonely.”

Spike and Fly paused with their respective meals for a second, mulling that confession over. “Well, you have plenty of friends you can count on and socialize with whenever you like still,” Fly reasoned encouragingly, but there was a faint glint of discontent with that. “I admit, though, I don’t have much more I can offer to help than that.”

Trixie shook her head, waving the matter aside with the wave of one hoof. “I’ll manage…I always did in the past. I didn’t even mind it so much before.” She paused, staring distantly into her bowl of cereal. “But then I met Thorax…and I guess…it made me realize just how lonely I actually am.”

Spike poked at his food half-heartedly for a moment, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry you had to loose Thorax like this, Trixie,” he mumbled.

Trixie sighed. “Please stop beating yourself over that, Spike,” she pleaded. “You’ve been getting put through enough as it is, I don’t need you trying to take on the weight of my own problems too. My issues aren’t your fault…they aren’t really anyone’s…it’s just…part of life. And life has its downsides in addition to its upsides.” She bit her lip lightly and nodded her head to herself. “I guess this is just one of them.”

A somber silence fell at the table for a second until Fly Leaf cleared her throat, shifting the flow of the conversation. “You know, you don’t have to go back to the showmare business right away if you don’t want to,” she reminded Trixie. “We’re happy to have you here for however long you want to stay.”

Trixie smiled warmly. “I do appreciate that,” she said. “But…I admit I’ve been feeling…restless…here. It’s not…it’s not…gosh, I don’t know how to say it. I just feel it’s time for me to move on too.” She motioned to Spike. “Besides…my chief goal was to see Spike settled back in…and I think you’re doing that successfully…right?”

Spike thought about it for a second then slowly nodded. “I think so,” he said, with more confidence than he expected, but it was genuine all the same.

Trixie smiled. “Good.” She then turned back to her cereal and went on. “Anyway, now would probably be the best time as any to get back into show business, at least for me. Interest in the works of the Great and Powerful Trixie is high, because of all that’s happened. At first, I thought it wouldn’t be fair of me to use that for my gain like this, but…after giving it some more thought…I think I could make it my little way to…salute those we’ve lost…in the process.” She then shrugged. “Besides…I actually was approached by an agency who wanted to fund a sizeable tour for Trixie…and that doesn’t come by very often for me. It’d…feel like a waste not to take it up.”

“I think Thorax would want you to, anyway,” Spike reasoned, grinning to himself as he could just hear what the changeling would probably have to say about all of this. “He wouldn’t want you to stop your life just for his sake.”

“I just wish he could be here to be a part of it too,” Trixie murmured, but then sighed and lifted her bowl to slurp down the remaining dregs of her cereal. “Anyway…I’m probably not going anywhere just yet…still have some more planning to do. And first I have to get back to my wagon. I left all that in Ponyville…which Starlight’s assured me she’s been keeping an eye on in her letters.”

Spike raised his eyebrows at that, unaware Starlight had been writing letters to Trixie, or to anyone for that matter, but chose not to comment on it. Now that he thought of it, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Well, when you do,” Fly said, reaching over with one hoof to pat Trixie’s, “I hope you’ll still swing by and visit us here in Vanhoover as often as you can.”

Trixie grinned. “I’d like that.”

For now though, there was work to still be done, and after breakfast they all went about opening and running Fly’s shop. As had become the accustomed norm, Spike spent most of it in the back, managing the shop’s stock. It was actually getting to be very dreary work as there wasn’t considerably much that needed to be done, but Spike put up with it because it kept him out the prying eyes of the public, still trying to slip into the shop just so to try and talk to him about matters he didn’t want to discuss. It was an off and on frustration for Spike, depending on his mood and how heavily recent events were weighing on his mind. Today, he actually wasn’t in too bad of spirits, but regardless, he wasn’t interested in being chatty about it to anyone other than Fly and Trixie, so hiding in the back with the stock where customers never go it was.

Spike did wish he didn’t have to resort to it for such privacy. In fact, he wished the white shirt and false eyeglasses he still wore daily as a disguise worked to dissuade attention from him…but unfortunately, ponies in Vanhoover had caught on to his true identity despite that. Regardless, even though the disguise was now more pointless than ever, Spike found himself more comfortable wearing it than not—he blamed it on the fact that he had spent so much time wearing it in Vanhoover, and now it had become hardwired into his brain that the two went together, meaning something was wrong if one was missing. In fact, he now gave considerable thought of investing in a new sweater vest so to replace the one he had lost, maybe even obtaining a whole slew of them in different colors, so to shake things up a little.

He was in the middle of considering what colors of sweater vest would look good while cataloging stock when Trixie poked her head into the makeshift stock area. “Spike, there’s somepony up front here to see you,” she informed.

Spike turned and raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You mean somepony who actually isn’t here to pry an autograph or some stupid thing like that out of me?”

Trixie frowned. “Just get out here,” she urged before leaving.

Spike groaned to himself, having his ideas about who he’d find up front, but he quickly wrapped up what he had been doing and came out as requested. “All right, so who is it exactly that wants me out here so badly?” he grumbled as he pushed his way through the batwing doors and into the shop’s main room.

He got no immediate response from Fly Leaf and Trixie standing behind the front desk who both turned to look at him almost somberly…as did the fully-armored royal guard that was patiently standing next to the desk.

Spike frowned as his eyes locked on the guard. “Of course,” he muttered.

“Mister Spike,” the pegasus guard greeted gently as Spike approached them. “I—”

“Let me guess!” Spike interrupted. “Somebody in the government finally decided come after me for publicizing the matter of the changelings.”

The guard shook his head. “Actually, I—”

“Well, you can tell them to forget it!” Spike went on, not listening. “If they really wanted to do something about it, they should’ve done it sooner before I had the chance to fall into the role.”

“Mister Spike—”

“I’ve had a good while to think through what happened, and you know what? I can’t regret what I did! The ponies of Equestria deserved to know what happened, and I saw nothing good coming from hiding it.”

“I’m not here because of—”

“And think about what it meant for me, after all! You’re basically asking me to lie or hide what happened, and…and do you know just what I lost through all of this? All things considered, I think I should get some slack—”

“It concerns Princess Twilight!” The guard interrupted urgently, raising his voice so to be heard. Upon this silencing Spike, he then pressed on apologetically. “I’m afraid there’s been an incident, Mister Spike.”

Spike remained quiet, his brain needing a moment to process this. It immediately stirred a massive array of conflicting emotions in his gut, some he didn’t relish having to face again so soon, but of them dread was rapidly becoming the most prominent. “What happened?” he asked.

The guard only shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know the details,” he explained, still apologetic. “I was simply asked by Princess Luna to bring you to Canterlot General Hospital as soon as possible.”

Spike’s eyes widened slightly as the dread in his stomach turned from a monsoon to a world-engulfing flood of biblical proportions. He turned his head to glance at Fly and Trixie standing beside him, seeing they had similar expressions on their faces. He opened his mouth to address Fly, but she was already way ahead of him and cut him off before he could even get a syllable out. “Don’t ask, just go,” she said, urgently motioning Spike on for the door with one hoof.

Spike needed no further bidding, and without stopping to do a thing more, he started urgently for the door with the royal guard silently following, both heading right for the chariot parked outside of the shop. In record time, that chariot was soon airborne, traveling as fast as the pegasus guard could pull it. His dedication to the task was impressive, and Spike saw the guard’s white coat was soon covered with the sheen of sweat from the exertion, but the guard never once slowed his pace. Spike silently appreciated how serious he was treating his task.

But along the way, Spike spent most of the breakneck journey drilling the guard for any and all details he could give the dragon. Unfortunately though, the guard hadn’t been exaggerating earlier—he really didn’t know anything. All he could tell Spike was that there had been some sort of incident in Canterlot which had stirred up a small panic and had apparently left Twilight Sparkle in serious enough of a condition that Princess Luna ordered her be moved to the hospital for immediate treatment, receiving the best care and treatment facilities available in the country. He knew not a shred more of information beyond that, and to his credit, he was very apologetic about it because he knew it wasn’t of much help for Spike, worried and uncertain of what he might find when they arrived.

So when they at last did arrive—the guard delivering him right at the hospital before escorting him inside as he had orders from Luna to allow Spike direct and immediate entry without delay—the first thing Spike did upon entering the attached viewing room in which Princesses Celestia, Luna, and Starlight Glimmer already were standing tensely within was to demand details.

“What happened?” he commanded as he burst in through the door and, without slowing or waiting for a response, immediately hurried to the window that looked into Twilight’s room beyond.

“Spike!” Luna declared in surprise as the threesome spun about to look at him. Both she and Celestia moved to stop, or at least slow, Spike’s approach to the window.

But Spike pushed past the hooves barring him and continued for the window. His breath caught as he saw Twilight, unconscious, lying on a bed on the other side, visibly bruised and beaten wherever her body wasn’t covered from sight by a blanket, and hooked up to an intravenous drip and a heart monitor. A nurse and a doctor were in the process of putting the finishing touches on casts placed on her right rear leg and her left wing.

Spike uttered a curse in linguae mutationis. “Look at her,” he breathed, “She looks awful.” He spun on the others in the room and repeated his first demand. “What happened? Is she—?”

“She has severe bruising to the chest and face, cracked ribs, a broken leg, and a broken wing, but altogether nothing life-threatening that has been found,” Luna assured the dragon, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “The doctors initially feared that she could have internal bleeding, but have since been able to rule that out, thank heavens. All in all, she’s a bit beaten, but the doctors strongly believe she is going to pull through okay. For the moment though, we’re waiting for her to regain consciousness to be absolutely certain.”

Some of the dread in Spike’s stomach lifted, his body relaxing slightly under Luna’s hoof, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “But what happened?” he demanded for a third time, twisting his head around to look at the princess of the night, then at Princess Celestia who stood just behind her.

But it was actually Starlight who answered the question. “She was attacked, Spike,” she summarized gravely.

Spike felt his heart clench and spun around to face the unicorn. “By who?”

“Well…we’re not sure exactly who, everything happened so fast during the riot—”

Spike blinked and reflexively pulled back, shocked. “Riot?”

“Perhaps we should explain from the beginning,” Luna suggested to Starlight, calmly intervening.

“Right,” Starlight agreed and backtracked to the beginning. “Okay, well…first, Spike, you need to understand that since we…all got back from the changeling hive, Twilight has been…rather reclusive. She’s spent most of the past…what is now, a week and a half?…locked up in her castle and basically…moping. It’s been real hard to get her interested in doing anything, and she’s not been very sociable with anypony, barely even with me and the other girls.”

“Of course, I can understand Twilight continuing to be in low spirits after what had transpired,” Luna offered, jumping in to add her thoughts. “But I was also hoping she would strive harder to be a bit more…proactive…in the meantime. Eventually, we thought that perhaps it would help if we gave Twilight a task to be a part of. Nothing major, just something positive for her to be doing.”

“And by that time, I had largely finished what work I could do at the changeling hive, helping them get settled and smoothing out some of the rougher bumps in our relations,” Celestia said, now picking up the tale. “I was already planning to head back to Canterlot in hopes of continuing to refine the budding relations between us and sort out arrangements for the transport and return of any captured prey the hive still bore, bringing with me a small party of three changelings as representatives to help, when Luna sent word of this idea to me.”

Spike was surprised to hear these plans though, having heard nothing about any changeling dignitaries coming to visit Equestria in such a capacity. “Meet with the changelings? Here? I hadn’t heard anything about that.”

“With the public being…mixed about the changelings at present, we were avoiding broadcasting it as a precaution,” Celestia explained. “For the safety of the changelings and to avoid making an unnecessary scene with any protesters that might take issue to their presence.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, despite those preparations…”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves though,” Starlight interrupted and resumed telling the story, facing Spike once more. “The point is that Princess Celestia was bringing a party of changelings to Canterlot for diplomatic work, and we had the thought that maybe Twilight would like to help represent Equestria. You know, to feel included. The princesses here agreed with the idea, so that just left Twilight.”

“Did she turn you down?” Spike asked knowingly.

“At first, yes,” Starlight admitted. “And that was…disappointing, but we all kept gently urging her to participate and eventually she relented, agreeing to be here to greet the visiting changelings, especially when I said I’d be there too.” Starlight grinned a little, but it was melancholy. “As it drew near, she seemed to be looking forward to it. So was I.”

A momentary silence fell and Spike started to sense that it was at this planned meeting that everything went wrong. “That meeting was today, wasn’t it?” he asked aloud. Seeing all three mares avert their gazes sadly, he swallowed, bracing himself. “So what went wrong?”

“Our attempts to keep the arrival of the changeling representatives quiet were for naught,” Luna replied gravely. “Somehow, word of our plans got out. And by dawn this morning, already there were protesters gathering at the castle gates, voicing their thoughts,” Luna growled, clearly frustrated by this development. “It was highly vexing.”

“Who were the protesters?”

“I have the royal guard trying to find out more as we speak, but as near as we have found out, the initial group was from a self-proclaimed anti-changeling faction,” Celestia explained. “Obviously, they were being very vocal about how they did not want any changelings in Equestria, reformed or not.”

“We talked about possibly diverting Celestia and the changelings to a new location in secret, or even postponing the meeting altogether until this affair could be resolved,” Luna said. “But the royal guard, in assessing the protesters, found that their numbers weren’t excessive. It was thought they could be kept at bay so long as there were ample guards escorting and guarding the landing site, which was already planned, protesters or no. Further, Celestia was already on her way when word reached her and she was reluctant to turn back or divert.”

“So you continued with the meeting,” Spike surmised.

“Yes, with the carriage transporting Celestia and the changelings arriving at the usual landing spot just outside the castle,” Luna explained. “Before they arrived, I sent plenty of royal guards out to sufficiently clear the space and to keep the protesters back. They seemed to be succeeding, so when the carriage arrived, myself and an escort of my own ignored the protesters and went to meet Celestia and the three changelings accompanying her, shared a few polite greetings, quickly got them up to speed on the situation, then started for the castle gates, where Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer had decided to wait for us.”

“So to give the guards two less ponies they had to keep an eye on,” Starlight explained for Spike’s benefit.

They paused for a moment though, just long enough for Spike to put two with two. “You never made it back to the castle, did you?”

Starlight shook her head. “Halfway there, the protesting abruptly took a turn for the worst. The royal guards were able to keep them back for a few minutes while attempting to hurry things along, but then one managed to slip past and went for the closest changeling the group, and…” she trailed off.

So Luna sternly finished it for her. “And then all Tartarus broke loose,” she stated.

“Everypony seemed like they were atop of each other in the fight,” Starlight explained, her gaze turning distant. “Twilight and I raced in to try and help, but…” she shook her head and gazed through at the observation window at Twilight’s beaten form.

“By the time the royal guards had restrained many of the culprits, restored order again, and gotten the riot to at least back off,” Luna continued gravely, “Twilight had been beaten unconscious, two of the changelings injured, one severely like Twilight, and the rest of us scratched and bruised.” Spike had missed it before in his haste, but he noticed now that all three of the mares did indeed bore the signs of having been in a scuffle. Thankfully, their injuries were all more superficial, though this was only a very small comfort to Spike at the moment. “That was when I ordered both Twilight and the changelings be taken here for treatment then sent the guard that brought you here, Spike.” She turned to face him. “I had thought you would want to be here for this…just in case.”

Spike simply nodded in response.

Celestia sighed. “Frankly, I am just considering ourselves lucky that it wasn’t more severe.” She shuddered, looking towards Twilight. “When I saw what had happened…I had feared the worst.”

Spike hesitated for a second. “…so did I,” he admitted, which drew a glance from Starlight but he ignored it.

“But we were able to avoid such a thing for the moment, it seems,” Luna reasoned aloud, trying to be positive. “Twilight is stable, as is everyone else who was injured in the riot. Many of the culprits were captured and arrested, and the royal guards are seeking out others that managed to slip away.”

“Will the meeting with the changelings still continue?” Starlight asked.

Celestia sighed again. “It is too soon to say,” she admitted. “Obviously, conditions are not exactly ideal now. Thankfully, all three of the changeling representatives do not seem to have taken personal issue with what happened, more glad that we all escaped it without more serious injury and, despite it all, still seem eager to continue with our plans when we can, but…the fact they do not seem at all surprised this happened only demonstrates how far from true peace between ponies and the changelings actually is. I do not know what such a meeting can actually accomplish at this point.” She looked at the others gravely. “It was just demonstrated that not all ponies are ready for changelings to be their allies.”

Spike growled at that, turning away from the group to look out the window at Twilight, lying unconscious in her cot in the next room. “They should,” he muttered darkly. He took in Twilight and her injuries for a moment longer, his frown deepening. “I don’t understand though,” he muttered. “How could this have happened? How could have Twilight gotten in such a state? With her magic, she should’ve been able to throw those protesters off her easily, I’ve seen her do it before.” He glanced at Starlight. “You were with her, Starlight, did you see what happened? Did somepony just get in a lucky hit or something?”

Starlight shook her head though. “I lost sight of Twilight the moment we entered the fray,” she admitted unhelpfully and motioned to the two princesses. “We all did, it seemed. We didn’t see exactly what happened to Twilight during the riot…only the aftermath.”

Spike turned frustrated. “Someone must have seen something,” he stressed.

“And someone did,” Celestia said, stepping forward. But rather than explain, she stepped forward and, taking a deep, knowing, breath, placed a hoof on Spike’s shoulder, drawing his gaze to meet hers. “Spike…you need to speak with the changelings about this.”

And thus, moments later, Spike found himself walking alone to visit the nearby and guarded room where the three changeling representatives were getting treated for their own injuries. He found their door guarded as indicated, but quickly noted that only one of the two guards was Equestrian; the other was an undisguised changeling. Spike assumed he was a centurion as he wore the fierce-looking blue armor he knew centurions wore, but as he also bore the colorful body of a reformed changeling under it, Spike found he couldn’t be as intimidated by the guard like he once was—especially since the guard warmly greeted him as he approached, clearly recognizing the dragon.

He stopped to speak with this guard, learning that he was the third changeling in the visiting party, there to serve as a bodyguard for the other two representatives. But the changeling guard wasn’t able to tell Spike much of anything new about what had happened. He recalled Twilight had moved towards him and the other two changelings and thought she was moving to stop one or more of the rioters slipping past the guards. But after that point, the changeling was too busy trying to protect both himself and others to see much of what had happened. He did note, however, that he thought it odd that he couldn’t recall Twilight attempting to use her magic in any noteworthy way in the fight…but he reasoned that he either didn’t see it in all the excitement, or Twilight was struck before she had the chance to—either could be likely. He did say he believed he had heard Twilight cry out at some point in the riot, probably from one of the blows she was dealt, but admitted that this wasn’t terribly helpful.

“Whatever the case, I do wish I could’ve done more to have helped her,” the changeling remarked to Spike.

Spike arched an eyebrow at him in questioning surprise. “Why?” he asked back. “Twilight’s been very…slow to support changelings.”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still try and give her aid when needed,” the guard answered back. “Politics shouldn’t even factor into such a situation.”

Spike was quiet for a moment after that. “If only it were that simple,” he murmured.

He and the guard exchanged a few more words before Spike asked if he could enter the room to speak with the other two changelings, and of course the changeling guard agreed, even opening the door for Spike. Inside were the other two changelings—both female—as well as one nurse tending to them. Whereas Spike had only noticed light scratches from the riot on the guard changeling outside, both of these two changelings were more notably more roughed up, but of the two, the injuries of one were clearly more serious. She was bedridden, with one wing twisted out of shape to the point it could not close properly, and her pale yellow chitin was severely split open in two places—one considerable gash across her belly where it looked like the chitin had been smashed in (and considering the circumstances, probably had), and another similar, smaller but still severe, gash on her foreleg which Spike thought was likely altogether broken too.

Both of these wounds showed clear signs of having bleed freely, emphasizing their seriousness, but such bleeding had since been staunched. The nurse was presently finishing up tending to the more serious wound on the changeling’s belly, bandaging it with gauze and other dressings as expected. By contrast though, the wound on the changeling’s leg had been treated in a more changeling fashion, with herbs and a generous slathering of changeling gel coating over it. It seemed the nurse had misgivings about this, for she was giving the gel-covered leg a critical look while wrapping up her work.

“You’re not going to let me do anything about that, are you?” she was in the middle of asking the other, slightly older changeling, as Spike entered.

“I do not think it’d be wise for either of us to mess with it for now at least,” the non-bedridden changeling replied while the other, awake and alert, quietly watched. “Better to let the leg have some time to heal now before attempting to adjust it further.”

The nurse groaned, but lacking the will to argue further, she relented. “All right, fine, I’ll just have to trust you know what you’re doing,” she said. She jabbed a hoof at the two changelings. “But if there’s any sign that it’s not helping any, I want you both to let me know straightaway, doctor’s orders, got it?”

“Certainly,” the changeling said with a nod of her head.

“You’d better,” the nurse muttered and turned to leave, only to find Spike standing in the doorway, listening to the argument go on. “Oh, I didn’t know you were there,” she remarked to Spike. “I’m sorry though, given circumstances, no visitors allowed without the explicit approval of one of the princesses…”

“I am quite certain Spike the Dragon has already gotten such permission to be here,” the leading changeling spoke up in Spike’s defense, giving him a comforting grin. “Either way, he is more than welcome to visit. He will not cause us harm.”

The nurse skeptically glanced between the two for a moment. “No offense to either of you, but an anti-changeling riot did just happen, so how can you be so sure?” she asked the changeling.

“Because clearly he never dealt any such harm to the late Thorax,” the changeling replied.

The nurse looked blank for a moment, but then her eyes widened as she put two with two and regarded Spike with new respect. Spike, however, averted his gaze, uncomfortable under the spotlight and further feeling his heart ache at the reminder of Thorax. Luckily, the nurse chose not to press the matter further. “Right,” she said, slipping past Spike and continuing to leave. “I’ll just give you all a moment to yourselves, then.”

She closed the door behind her, leaving Spike alone with the two changelings, both of whom were regarding him with curious looks. The first changeling moved to approach him, giving Spike a chance to see the light green changeling up close. He noticed that she was mostly just scuffed up from the riot, but she also bore one small cut on her forehead that had left a narrow line of dried blood down one side of her face, now covered with a lone band-aid. Spike took more interest in the beetle-shaped pendant she wore about her neck as well as the brown headband around her forehead, realizing she looked naggingly familiar.

“Have we met before?” he asked as he moved to accept the changeling’s hoof for a shake.

“Only in passing during Thorax’s funeral, I’m afraid, and we have not been formally introduced before now,” the changeling explained in her somewhat gravely but friendly voice. “But allow me to correct that.” She dipped her head in a respectful bow. “My name is Crypsis.” She pointed a hoof at the pastel yellow changeling lying on the bed. “My young assistant here is named Neonata.”

“Hello,” Neonata gently greeted Spike with a light nod head of her head, which Spike returned.

“As I’m sure you’ve already been told,” Crypsis continued, “we were coming to visit Equestria, representing the hive’s managing council, in hopes of continuing to repair relations with the ponies when…unfortunate events took place.”

“I’m deeply sorry about that, by the way,” Spike apologized seriously. “That riot should’ve never taken place.”

Crypsis waved the matter aside. “It is all in the past,” she said. “I am more just glad to know that both Neonata and Princess Twilight will recover safely, and the rest of us escaped it relatively unhurt.”

Spike shifted awkwardly. “That’s…sort of why I’m here,” he admitted. “I…wanted to ask you two about what you recall happening during the riot as I’m still fuzzy about what happened exactly, and, well…I’m hoping one or both of you might know something that could fill in those sort of blanks.”

Though she winced briefly from her injuries doing it, Neonata sat up a bit in the cot she was lying in. “What did you want to know, then?”

“Well, basically…” Spike began, looking for a convincing and indirect way to put the focus on Twilight.

His intentions must have shown clearly in the emotions the changelings were no doubt sensing though. “About Princess Twilight, I presume?” Crypsis surmised. “I further assume, then, that you’re wondering why she was the only other one so considerably injured.”

Spike averted his gaze. “Basically, yeah.”

Crypsis nodded, understanding. “When the riot began and protesters started slipping past the guards, Princess Twilight moved to put herself between them and us, the changelings, so to block their path.”

Spike’s gaze remained averted as he let that statement sink in for a split second. “She was trying to shield you three,” he mumbled in not quite a statement or not quite a question.

Crypsis took it to be a question. “Yes,” she confirmed simply. “The last I saw of her until after the riot was a protester barreling into her. Past that point I was distracted by the other protesters and our guard, Protego,” she nodded her head once in the direction of the door where said guard was standing outside, “shouting out and moving to defend ourselves. In the chaos that followed, he and I were quickly separated from Princess Twilight, so I was not able to see what she did after that.”

Spike sighed wearily.

“But Neonata did.”

Spike glanced up sharply and looked over at the younger, more injured changeling lying in the bed. “You did?” he asked, almost blurting it out.

Neonata nodded sheepishly. She went to shift awkwardly, but winced to herself when this perturbed her injuries and stopped herself. “I was always the one closest to her once she moved between us and the protesters,” she explained. Now she was the one averting her gaze, looking uncomfortable.

It wasn’t hard to guess why. Spike swallowed heavily, but found he couldn’t leave the matter alone. “What happened?” he asked softly, approaching the injured changeling until he stood at the foot of her bed. Crypsis moved closer as well to listen.

Neonata sighed. “At first, it was as Counciling Crypsis said,” she began, motioning a forehoof in the direction of the elder changeling. “When the protesters charged right for us changelings, the princess moved to put herself between them and us, blocking their path, and when that didn’t stop them, she remained there, meeting them face on as they started barreling into her. She tried to hold them back physically, and I saw her start to try and light her horn…I suspect she was trying to create a spell to push away the protesters. But one of them struck her horn with her hoof…maybe to prevent her from trying precisely that. She cried out and went down, and by then, the protesters were upon me.” The changeling’s tone turned slightly frightened as she recalled the unfavorable memory. “I tried to fight them off, but they were too numerous and I didn’t have enough strength to fight them off myself, so they were quickly overpowering me, the protesters beating every part of me they could lay hoof on. I tried to escape by flying, but…” she glanced back at her twisted wing, wincing, “…they…stopped me.”

Spike had averted his gaze by this point, not wanting to hear the grisly details of her beating, but Neonata continued on regardless.

“Then Princess Twilight forced her way between them,” the changeling related, causing Spike to feel a chill go down his spine. “Tried to pull them off of me with her hooves…I guess her horn was still stunned and she couldn’t harness her magic. Then when that didn’t work, she bodily put herself over me, shielding me from their blows…she kept shouting that she wouldn’t let them hurt me.” Neonata hung her head at this point while Spike’s gaze restored itself onto her, eyes going wide. “The protesters kept trying to pull her off so to get at me…I am not sure they were thinking about who she was at that point…all of their emotions were just blindingly fearful and angry…but in so doing, they ended up hurting her as she ended up taking many of the blows meant for me. Eventually I think she was knocked unconscious and they succeeded in dragging her off before turning their attention onto me…” Neonata shuddered briefly, but thankfully she didn’t go into further detail about her experience. “I must have gotten knocked out myself shortly thereafter, because the next thing I can really reliably remember was waking up after the riot was broken up and others trying to treat my injuries while moving me here. I saw Princess Twilight and that she was getting similar treatment.” Sheepishly, she ended her tale there.

A moment of silence fell in the room. Spike spent most of it sorting through conflicting thoughts, wringing his claws together as he attempted to come to terms with what he had been told and speak a coherent or well-formed thought.

“Twilight could’ve died,” he eventually muttered aloud softly.

Crypsis placed a hoof on the dragon’s shoulder. “If she hadn’t done what she had, Neonata would be dead,” she gently stated with raw confidence.

Neonata nodded her head in agreement. “It sounds like she protected me from the rioters long enough to hold out for it being broken up,” she said. She bowed her head respectfully. “I owe her my life.”

“You don’t owe her anything,” Spike suddenly snapped, but then turned away, part angry and part surprised at himself. He started to pace about the room aimlessly while the other two changelings watched. He could sense them detecting his emotions so to determine his state of mind, and for the first time, found himself taking issue with it.

Crypsis spoke before he could voice any sort of protest though. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” she asked.

Spike blinked, first going blank, then very troubled, before turning somewhere between annoyed and sad. “Why should I care?” he asked aloud finally. “After what she’s done to me, to Thorax…”

“And I can’t answer that, Spike, only you can,” Crypsis interrupted, watching the dragon sadly as he uncomfortably paced, troubled. “But maybe now is the time for you to figure out just where it is you truly stand with Princess Twilight.”

Spike came to stop in the middle of the room, his back turned to the two changelings. “I already know where I stand with Twilight,” he replied without turning.

“Do you?” Neonata asked.

The only response back they got from Spike was an increase of conflict in his emotions.

“She’s a hero, Spike the Dragon,” Neonata stressed gently.

“She’s nothing of the such!” Spike immediately hissed, whirling onto the two changelings with such sudden fury that both pulled back in alarm. It made Spike immediately regret it and his temper vanished, replaced with sorrow as his emotions grew even more tumultuous. He did not take back the statement, though. “Please,” he pleaded, suddenly fighting tears. “She started all of this. You both know it. Don’t try to defend her.”

Crypsis gaze went distant for a second as she considered how to respond before refocusing on the dragon. “She was clearly trying to do better than she had before, Spike,” she murmured gently, “to the point that she was willing to face bodily harm to do it.” She tilted her head at the dragon as he turned away, troubled, again. “I think you know that.”

Spike again chose to make no response, and silence fell in the room for a few minutes.

It was interrupted this time by Starlight Glimmer poking her head inside. “Spike,” she said quickly, “Twilight’s awake.”

Spike immediately about faced for the door. “I need to talk to her,” he said, slipping past Starlight and through the door without bidding the two changelings any sort of farewell.

“Ah, actually,” Starlight interjected, hurrying to keep up with him, “the doctors want to give her another look over now that she’s awake and asked that she still get no visitors, so—”

“Tough!” Spike interrupted with finality.

Starlight seemed taken aback as she followed the dragon marching back for Twilight’s room. “…tough?” she repeated hesitantly.

“I need to talk to her,” Spike simply repeated.

Starlight moved to stop him as they arrived at the door. “Spike, you really shouldn’t—”

But Spike simply brushed her off, barging through the door and into the room undeterred. A doctor was already inside, running through a medical report on a clipboard, and turned to stop Spike as well.

“I’m sorry,” he said urgently as he did this. “But I’m afraid I must insist on no visitors at this time, so I’m going to have to ask you to—”

“I need to talk to her,” Spike repeated for a third time, pushing past the doctor as he headed straight for Twilight, lying on her cot.

Her eyes had been closed at the time, but they opened again as Spike approached, overhearing the commotion. Her eyes the locked onto him, surprised. “Spike,” she croaked weakly, slowly turning her head to keep him in view as he marched up to the side of her bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Why did you do it?” Spike responded by demanding.

Twilight’s brow wrinkled slightly, her mind drugged on painkillers being slow to follow. “Do what?” she asked.

“You know what,” Spike stressed. “So why did you do it? Why did you do what you did in the riot?”

Twilight didn’t reply right away, she simply gazed at him with a distant gaze. “What did you expect me to do?” she asked instead of answering. “It was a riot, Spike…I was working to try and break it up, so that—”

“No,” Spike interrupted, leaning closer to her. “No, no, no, I know what you did, Twilight,” he repeated. He was aware of the doctor hovering nearby, uncertainly listening, as well as Starlight standing in the doorway, stunned, and he could even see Celestia and Luna looking on through the observation window, but caught up in the moment now, he ignored all of them. “You weren’t breaking up the riot…you were protecting the changelings. You put yourself between them and the protestors, you put your life on the line to try and shield them…you bodily put yourself in position to take the blows meant for them, you put them above yourself…you could’ve died doing it…so why did you do it, Twilight?”

Twilight gazed at him sadly. “Why wouldn’t I have done that, Spike?” she asked slowly.

“Because you didn’t before,” he hissed, suddenly furious again. “Where were you when Thorax needed that protection?” His fury immediately melted into sadness. “Where were you when I needed that protection?” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Why did you do it, Twilight? What were you thinking?”

Twilight’s gaze slowly turned determined. “I was making amends for what I did, Spike,” she stated with such seriousness, there was no doubt that what she was saying wasn’t the truth.

Spike gazed back at her just as seriously. “And if things had gone differently?” he demanded, “if you had died in the attempt?”

Twilight already had her response ready. “A life for a life, Spike,” she replied.

A long moment of silence fell. The next person to break it wasn’t Spike, but rather Starlight. “For whose life, Twilight?” she asked.

Twilight’s gaze didn’t leave Spike, nor did his. “You know whose,” she replied.

Spike stood there trembling beside Twilight’s bed, staring her down for a long moment. His face was angry, but his eyes were sad, almost terrified. His breathing was rapid and growing more so by the moment. At last though, as if something was giving away, he snorted and turned for the door, marching his way to exit while Twilight turned her head to watch, her expression still and unwavering. His pace slowed as he reached the door though, before slowing to a stop within it. He stood there for a long moment, all eyes on him. When he at last twisted his head to look back at Twilight again, he was fighting tears.

“Twilight, I’ve already lost Thorax,” he mumbled. “Do you have any idea what it’d do to me if I lost you too?”

Then, without waiting for an answer, or any other sort of response, he walked off, leaving the rest to silently mull upon what had happened.





Twilight requested that she have no more visitors for a while after this meeting, which considering how much it was stressing her, the doctors readily agreed and supported this request. But Spike didn’t have much issue with it—he was in no hurry to visit Twilight again himself.

Nevertheless, he was also in no hurry to leave for Vanhoover again, feeling obligated to hang around in Canterlot in case some new development arose. At the very least he wanted to keep around to make sure the aftermath of the riot continued getting sorted out adequately. As such, Princess Celestia happily made arrangements for him to be given a room in the castle which Spike soon had settled himself into. One of the first things he did after that was write a quick letter to Fly Leaf, updating her and explaining the situation, adding that he may remain in Canterlot for a couple of days.

Fly Leaf’s reply came the following morning, telling him to take as much time as he needed and to not fret about things in Vanhoover, as she assured she would handle things herself. And even if she couldn’t, she added that Trixie had already readily agreed to help fill in for Spike while he was away. The stage performer also sent her regards and well-wishes in addition to Fly Leaf. Somewhat to Spike’s surprise, it seemed both had little to comment on the details of Twilight’s actions in the riot, keeping such remarks to neutral minimums at most. Like Spike, he still got a sense that they hadn’t expected this either, but at the same time acted like little about it needed discussing. The most Fly Leaf commented about it was that it was good Twilight seemed to recognize changelings didn’t need to be her enemies now and wished her a speedy recovery.

And yet Spike had to sit and stare at this comment for several minutes, trying to figure out just how he wanted to feel about it. Ultimately though, he chose to ignore it.

As the days then slowly passed, Spike kept mostly to himself and to his room, leaving only occasionally and often at his own random whim. Usually, it was just to go for a walk, trying to use it to distract himself from what was on his mind. He never strayed from the castle grounds, so he typically was left to his own devices. He’d glance through the headlines of the morning paper when it’d come in to get glimpses of the aftermath of the riot—it seemed most ponies condemned the riot, regardless of their thoughts about changelings, and most of the participants who had been arrested in the riot were facing stern criminal charges for their actions—but otherwise found little need to involve himself much deeper into the affair presently.

At mealtimes, he’d join Celestia and Luna as well as Starlight (who had remained in Canterlot too) to eat in the castle’s private dining room. There the conversations varied on the day and the mood of the participants, but they usually always opened with a status update on the conditions of Twilight and the changeling Neonata, both of whom were continuing to improve and doctors remained optimistic would recover completely. After some remarks of being pleased at this news though, the topic would quickly shift to other things. Spike typically stayed out of the conversation at that point, but perhaps because of that, he’d find himself drawn in regardless due to one of his dinner companions picking a topic directly concerning him. One time Celestia brought up a number of possible reforms she was considering in hopes to prevent what had happened to him and Thorax, Starlight relayed a number of well-wishes from Twilight’s friends in Ponyville at another, and once Luna even tried to talk specifically about Thorax to Spike and seemed keen to do so had Spike not quickly cut her short and politely made it clear this wasn’t a topic he wanted to talk about right now.

One popular topic was the subject of the ongoing talks with the three changeling representatives which ended up proceeding as planned after all. Seeing that since they were going to be around while recovering from the riot, they might as well be productive. So to this end, Celestia was immensely pleased and relieved that, despite her initial fears, good was coming from this. It left her feeling confident again that there was much that could still be accomplished, and that formal relations between changelings and ponies could indeed improve. She was so pleased by this progress that Celestia made it a point to talk about what new things had been discussed every evening.

On Spike’s second night of his visit though, the issue of the ongoing inquiry into the affair of Thorax was brought up, and Celestia reasoned that since it seemed he’d be in town for a few days, Spike might as well meet with the inquiry officials for questioning, admitting that they were going to ask to do so sooner rather than later anyway.

“With that in mind, then, you might as well get it over with now,” Celestia concluded, already seeing that Spike was displeased with this news and looked ready to object. “The sooner you do, the sooner it’s over with and you can get back to your own affairs.”

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed, but conceded, knowing she was probably right. “All right,” he said reluctantly. He shrugged a second later. “At least it’ll be my chance to get all the details straight for a change.”

The others shifted awkwardly at this before Celestia cleared her throat. “Well then,” she remarked aloud, “I’ll be sure to pass word along to the relevant ponies, and I’m sure they’ll be in touch with you to schedule times shortly.”

“Mm,” Spike grunted as he resumed eating.

“How is the inquiry going, anyway?” Starlight asked, taking control of the conversation.

“We do not know,” Luna replied. “As we are all under investigation, the inquiry is keeping us out of their affairs so to keep things as unbiased as they can.”

“Which is precisely what they’re supposed to do,” Starlight added with a sigh of her own. “But I wish they could just get it over with…I think the stress of not knowing was starting to get to Twilight…it’s certainly been getting to me.”

“I am both dreading and looking forward to it myself, but until it does, I have simply been trying to continue with the other affairs we face in the meantime.” Celestia said boldly, looking unafraid. “Nevertheless, whatever the inquiry rules on the matter, I hope it will be for the betterment of Equestria…then, at the very least, it will hopefully prevent anyone from having to be put into these sort of circumstances again.”

“One can hope,” Spike mumbled, who still wasn’t so certain himself.

Luna noticed and gazed at him knowingly. “What more would you want then, Spike?” she asked of the dragon carefully.

Spike gazed across the table vacantly for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I’m not sure what I want,” he admitted. “I’m just not sure it’s enough.”

As it happened, he was called in to testify for the inquiry the next day, and by lunchtime, Spike found himself standing in a sizeable council chamber before seven pony representatives of the inquiry, answering their questions. He had gone into it expecting the questions to be frustrating, impersonal, and worse of all, completely misconstruing why he and Thorax had acted as they did during the four moons they were in hiding. But to his surprise, Spike found most of the questions rather courteous, and rarely dealt in depth with the particulars of what had happened. Instead, they focused more on how Spike had been doing and if he was doing well, presumably looking for indications about his true emotional state even if they never explicitly said so. They were, if anything, very sympathetic.

Spike wanted them to be absolutely clear of his side of the story though, fearing they wouldn’t have the whole picture of what had happened if they lacked it, so even though he hadn’t been asked to do so, the first chance he was given to delve into the matter, he did. The inquiry ponies kindly didn’t interrupt and let him speak, and Spike spent a good while relating the tale in full, fuller than he normally did, covering even more side details like the times he and Thorax spoke about the significance of acorns to changelings and his late friend’s strong beliefs in the matter, even though it wasn’t strictly relevant to the tale. He was surprised at how therapeutic it felt as he concluded. Perhaps because of this, when the ponies decided they had finished speaking with Spike and were thanking him for his time while preparing to leave, Spike chose to ask what rulings they were considering making at this point in time.

Only one of the representatives elected to respond. “That is a detail we really shouldn’t be formally discussing aloud outside of the inquiry team, Mister Spike,” he answered politely.

“I know,” Spike said, but nodded his head pleadingly at him. “Tell me informally, then.”

The representative debated to himself, then motioned for Spike to come a bit closer. “We haven’t settled upon a final ruling as of yet, first of all,” he admitted to the dragon, speaking softly so their voices wouldn’t carry far. “This business with the riot hasn’t helped either, as it’s only polarized the situation further. But if it’s of any comfort, I currently expect the inquiry will favor you and the changelings in this matter.” Letting Spike mull upon that for a second, he packed up his things into a formal-looking saddlebag. “What happened shouldn’t have happened, Mister Spike, that much everyone can agree upon. Now it’s our duty to determine what needs to be done so it doesn’t happen again, and if need be, adequately punish those guilty of bringing it about.”

“Including Twilight?” Spike asked.

“A final judgment for Princess Twilight hasn’t yet been reached,” the representative stated. “But considering her actions in the riot, especially the personal risk it was to her in doing so, will undoubtedly be speaking favorably for her. Still…I expect she will not escape this unpunished. Nor will others throughout the governmental level. Something in how Equestria as a country handles matters such as this is broken because it was, for all intents and purposes, abused unnecessarily, and many were wronged in the process…including yourself and your changeling friend. That cannot be allowed to continue or happen again.” He nodded his head and turned to leave. “That’s all I can tell you at this time.”

Altogether, it gave Spike something to think about, finding himself debating what sort of final rulings the inquiry might make, and if they’d be a ruling he could live with. But otherwise things changed little and Spike kept to the routine he had established during his visit. Most didn’t act like this was a problem, because they made no attempt to stop him or break him out of that routine, or so Spike thought. But he learned that more ponies were actually very worried about him than they let on when, most of the way through that same week, the customary reply to a letter from Fly Leaf proved to not be written by Fly at all…but rather by Trixie.

It turned out that without Spike’s knowing, she and Starlight had continued to be in correspondence via letter since he had arrived in Canterlot, and he had been a strong topic of focus between them. Finally, apparently worried about him and saw a chance to write to him after his latest letter to Fly Leaf, Trixie now wanted to have her piece. She started out writing the letter normally enough, greeting Spike in her typical fashion—“The Great and Powerful Trixie wishes you greetings and salutations!”—talked about how things in Vanhoover and Fly’s shop had been going well, and how Fly sent her regards as well. But then Trixie’s tone abruptly turned more serious, diving into the matter of the riot, Twilight’s role in it, what Starlight had conveyed to her about Spike’s reaction to it, and the greater matters underlying all of it, being so bold as to openly admit that she was “greatly worried” about him and she wasn’t the only one.

“In fact, Starlight had wanted to get in on this and, if not talk to you directly, write her thoughts in a letter too,” Trixie wrote. “But I asked her not to, because you and I both know what this is really about. This is about Thorax. How you miss him dearly. And how you don’t want to let go of him. I can’t blame you for that. In fact, that’s why I asked Starlight to leave this to me, because the truth is I can relate to your loss better than she can. Thorax had been my good friend too. More than that, even. So I understand what you’re going through because I’m going through it too. Which doesn’t make what needs to be said any easier to say, but it needs to be done.

“We both need to let Thorax go. He’s gone, Spike. And as much as we both don’t want to admit it…we can’t have him back. Nor is there any point in continuing to stay angry over what happened. It was wrong, yes, and some will likely face penance for it. But those responsible know that, are fessing up to it, and if the riot in Canterlot proved anything…they want to make up for it. And no matter how or what we feel about them, we need to give them that chance. I’ve already been trying to do so, now it’s your turn to do the same. You can’t stay like this, Spike, or you’re never going to find happiness again, and you need that happiness so very dearly right now, perhaps more than you ever have before. And you know better than anyone that Thorax would want you to. I have complete confidence that if he were here now, he would be very unhappy about your attitude towards everything that has transpired.

“How you do it is your business and I won’t tell you what you need to do. But whatever it is, you need to figure it out and do it and do it soon. And know that doing so doesn’t mean forgetting who Thorax was and what he meant. He will always be remembered, and the time we both had with him will still be no less cherished than it was before. My one wish is just that time could’ve been longer. Whatever the case, Thorax was a fellow of peace. So I can’t help but feel that the best way to commemorate him is to find that peace and embrace it ourselves. Please do what you need to so to do that.”

Trixie’s words left Spike pondering about them for most of that same day. By the end of that day, he wrote back with a simple letter to Fly Leaf, asking her to take an item from his room there in Vanhoover and to mail it to him as soon as she could. It arrived by the end of that week, and that same day, Spike started making preparations to leave Canterlot and head back for Vanhoover, decreeing that he felt he had accomplished what he had needed to there. By that afternoon, the needed arrangements had been made and now he stood on the balcony of his room, overlooking the castle and the city beyond while waiting for his carriage. Held in his claws was the item Fly had sent him, fingering it gently as he geared himself up for this final step he had decided he needed to do before he left.

But before he could finish motivating himself into doing it, he heard a polite knock at the door to his room.

“It’s open,” he called back without turning, having left the door ajar in expectation of leaving soon.

The speaker did not enter, though. “I know,” the reply came back.

Spike recognized the voice immediately. He closed his eyes and sighed before turning to look at Twilight Sparkle standing in the open doorway. She hadn’t recovered completely from her injuries, of course. One wing was still wrapped in a cast, as well as one back leg, leaving her having to rely on a wheelchair cart strapped to her hind legs to get around. But she had clearly improved in health. The bruises had faded away, most of the cuts and scratches had healed, and her eyes reflected her usual healthy and alert mind. At the moment though, she regarded Spike with a hesitant and withdrawn expression.

“May I come in?” she asked politely, wanting explicitly his permission to enter before she even tried…perhaps out of fear of what happened the last time she tried to force a visit upon him not long after Thorax’s passing.

Spike had no intention of repeating that event though, and after only a momentary delay, waved her on in. “Yeah, come on in,” he said softly, before turning to look back over the city. He then waited for her to leisurely wheel herself in and joined him on the balcony before speaking further. “You seem to be recovering. Nice to see you on your hooves again.”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied simply. She looked Spike over briefly out of the corner of her eye. “You, um, seem to be doing all right too.”

Spike shrugged. “I guess so,” he admitted.

“I heard you were leaving for Vanhoover today.”

“Yeah, carriage that’s taking me should be ready to go at any time now.”

Twilight licked her lips hesitantly. “Do you…do you need—?”
“I’m fine, Twilight,” Spike interrupted, already seeing what she was about to ask. “You worry more about yourself right now.”

Twilight averted her gaze for a second. “Easier said than done,” she mumbled to herself before turning to Spike, getting to the point. “I’m worried about you, Spike.”

“Everyone’s worried about me.”

“It’s because of how you seem to be so…lost…just drifting and listless and lacking direction.”

“They’re not wrong.” Spike’s gaze turned distant. “I’ve been putting in a lot of thought about that lately, given…recent events.”

Twilight sighed. “Look, about the riot…”

“It’s nothing, Twilight,” Spike assured, again interrupting. “Really. You just…surprised me, is all.”

Twilight bowed her head slightly. “Spike, I was just trying to help.”

“I know. And I approve. It’s just…” Spike shook his head, claws tightening around the object in his palm. The motion caught Twilight’s attention and her eyes glanced curiously at it for the first time. “…I wasn’t expecting it. I was…I was…”

“You were still expecting me to demonize the changelings…not come defend them like that,” Twilight observed knowingly.

Spike sighed and nodded. “Because I still wanted to demonize you,” he admitted solemnly. “I had become so used to thinking the worst of you that…I never really stopped. I wanted to keep thinking poorly of you out of…I don’t know…spite…revenge…I guess it doesn’t matter why ultimately.” He hung his head, looking ashamed. “The point is that I had given up on you, Twilight, and that you would actually change. And here you are, not just proving me wrong, but showing that, despite everything, you were willing to change…for the better.”

Twilight had started to shake her head adamantly. “No, no, I’m just…it’s just…” she squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly fighting tears. “I’m not trying to redeem myself, Spike. I know what I did was…” her voice caught. “…I can’t repair that. And I know there will always…” now she averted her eyes, avoiding eye contact with Spike. “…be those that will hold that against me. I accept that. But basically…I’m just trying to move on. Accept the loss and…sort of rebuild back up what I lost, from scratch if I must. And to that, I ended up deciding that I can’t expect to do it hiding in my castle, so when the meeting with changeling representatives came along, I thought that would be as good a place as any to start.”

“You didn’t plan on that riot getting in way, though.”

“No one did. It just…sort of happened, and…when I realized what was going on…all I could think about was…not letting what happened to Thorax happen to those changelings. I…wasn’t even thinking about what might happen to me.” Twilight shifted uneasily. “That probably seems weird to hear, considering how I was about changelings…before. But…honestly, that’s the truth. That what was going through my head at the time. And if I didn’t…make it in the process…all I thought on that was…at least I’d be repaying the debt I owe to Thorax. He died saving my life, and a great many others…the least I could do was return that favor.”

Spike had his eyes closed and was tightly squeezing the small object in his claws. “That’s just it though.”

“…Spike?”

“Twilight, when I had heard what had happened…saw you lying on that bed…it chilled me…and I realized that…despite everything…everything you’ve done to me…you still mean something me…something important.” He closed his eyes before continuing on in a choked whisper. “And I’m terrified of losing that.”

Twilight was momentarily at a loss for words at this. Of all the things she was expecting Spike to say, this was perhaps the very last of them, and she wasn’t at all prepared to respond. After a long moment of silently working her jaw up and down, trying to find the words, she spoke somewhat shakily. “If it’s of any consolation…I can safely say the same thing about you.”

Spike grinned a little. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. He shook his head. “But see, that’s the thing, Twilight…you still haven’t given up. You’re still fighting for a positive resolution, your methods just changed. You’re still searching for a way to…improve…what had gone wrong between us. Whereas there’s me, who just…gave up on ever doing any of that…and I did so a long time ago…about five moons now.”

Twilight moved closer. She started to raise a hoof as if intending to wrap it comfortingly around him, but then stopped herself and withdrew it, as if deciding that this was not allowed anymore. “After everything you’ve been through, Spike…”

“It’s no excuse!” Spike snapped. “I should be working for something better than what I’ve got. I don’t have to concede to defeat, that things just didn’t work out so that was that. I need to be building up what I can off of that instead…like you are.” His temper cooled as he averted his gaze. “That’s why I was so riled up about what you did in the riot, Twilight…you showed you were doing what I wasn’t, and just how much you were willing to sacrifice to do it…”

Twilight looked at him knowingly. “You would’ve done the same thing.”

But Spike continued to evade her gaze, not looking so confident of that. “Twilight, I need you to know…things are still…not good…between us. But if we have any hope of changing that someday, even if we have to castaway whatever remains of the relationship we had before and simply start over from scratch…it’s shouldn’t be just you who’s making the effort. I have to do some of that too. And…I need to do this…or I’m not going ever going to get over this.”

“Spike…”

“Twilight, please…I’ve put a lot of thought into this…how I need to move on after Thorax…”

“Spike, I don’t want your forgiveness because you think you have to give it,” Twilight interjected, suddenly looking deadly serious. “I want it to be because you feel I’ve earned it.”

Spike was quiet for a moment. “That could be a very long time, Twilight.”

Twilight nodded, already knowing that. “I’m willing to wait however long I need to. Even if it never does come. That’s the only way I’m going to get through this.” She raised her hoof again, and this time she did wrap it around Spike. “If nothing else…I’d still like to try and be a friend to you again.”

Spike was quiet for a moment. “You just might yet succeed someday,” he murmured. He looked down at the object he was fiddling with in his claws still. “Thorax himself said it best, after all. The best way to defeat an enemy…is to make them your friend.”

Twilight followed his gaze down at the little object in Spike’s hands. “What is that you’ve got anyway?” Silently, Spike held it up for her to see and she squinted her eyes at it. “An acorn?”

Spike nodded solemnly. “Thorax had found it…right before you found us in Vanhoover.”

Twilight blinked and felt a chill run through her, regarding the little nut in a new light. “Oh,” she murmured.

“I had left it in our room for the past couple of weeks…but a couple days ago I had Fly Leaf mail it to me. There’s something I need to do that I’ve been putting off.” He clutched the acorn tightly in his claws, staring out across the city of Canterlot lying before them. “You remember what I had said about the significance of acorns to changelings, right? The legends they have behind them?”

Twilight nodded, listening reverently. “Largely.”

“Well…they have a practice where they collect up fallen acorns and then go about scattering them again in a ceremony they call Dissipatio. The hope is that the scattered acorns might then sprout and grow new oak trees, if not more.” He regarded the acorn sadly for a moment. “Thorax decided he wanted to try and perform the ceremony himself when he collected this acorn…but he died before he got the chance to. So I think it’s time I did it for him.”

Twilight looked from the acorn to out over the edge of the balcony. “How did you plan to ‘scatter’ it then?” she asked.

Spike shrugged. “I was thinking I was just going to throw it as hard as I could and…hope for the best.”

Twilight gazed out at the cityscape before them, calculating the distances. “I’m not sure it’ll actually go that far like that, Spike,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, especially since you know I don’t have the best of throwing arms,” Spike admitted sheepishly. He looked down at the acorn in his claws. “But it’s the best I’ve got.”

Twilight studied the acorn for a second too. “You know, if you want…I could probably give it a bit of a boost after you throw it using my magic,” she offered softly, motioning to her horn.

Spike glanced up at her, wrapping his claws around the acorn. “I’d appreciate that greatly, Twilight,” he murmured.

They turned to face the balcony edge again. “So how does this ceremony work?” she asked. “Is there something that needs to be said first?”

Spike admittedly didn’t know, and thought to himself that maybe he should’ve consulted with Neonata or Crypsis first before doing this…but saw himself too committed to this to back down now. “I’m not completely sure,” he admitted. “But I think…we just need to keep in mind why we’re doing this.”

Twilight nodded to herself quietly, closing her eyes for a moment, before opening them again, motioning for Spike to continue while readying herself by lighting her horn. Spike gripped the acorn tightly in one hand and wound up to throw it as hard as he could.

“For you, bud,” he murmured aloud.

He then hurled the acorn with all the might he could muster, watching it as it arched high up into the sky. Twilight’s horn then flared with magic, and with a crack of lavender light, the nut suddenly shot further through the air and was quickly out of sight, seemingly vanishing into the horizon. The two stared out in the direction it had gone.

“Gratias tibi ago, Thorax,” Spike murmured in the changeling tongue.

Twilight watched him quietly. “You know, he’s not really dead…so long as we remember him.”

This made Spike grin. “Then he’s going to live a very, very, long time indeed.” His grin grew even bigger as a single tear ran down the cheek. “So much the better.”

Twilight watched him sadly. “I truly am sorry this all happened, Spike,” she murmured.

“I know you are,” Spike said. “I’m sorry too. None of us asked for this…nor did we deserve it.” His grin didn’t waver. “But there’s still so much to be learned from this experience. About friendship…our friends, new and old…judgment…forgiveness…how bearing a grudge is no way to live…that there is always a way out of a bad situation and that it’s worthwhile to try…that one can never know if things can actually change unless they actually try to do it…that anyone can change…and will change, if allowed the chance…and that even one person with all the odds stacked against them…can still make a massive difference.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll miss him, Twilight, and I’ll cherish those four moons I had with him by my side as my best friend forever…but that time’s come to an end, as all things inevitably do…now it’s time for all of us to move on, and continue to change, grow, and learn.”

Twilight kicked a hoof at the tile floor of the balcony for a moment. “You know…there are a lot ponies out there that really could stand to hear all that right about now,” she murmured.

“I know,” Spike murmured back. He was quiet for a second. “I have some ideas about that.”

He didn’t elaborate further, so this naturally drew a curious look from Twilight, silently wondering just what it was that he might have in mind.

But before she could decide to verbally ask him about it, there was another knock at the open door to Spike’s room, and they turned to see a castle servant was standing in the doorway. She bowed her head politely for interrupting, but otherwise got right to the point. “Mister Spike,” she said in a formal voice, “your carriage is ready and waiting to depart now.”

“Okay, thank you,” Spike replied back. “I’ll be down in just a second.”

The servant nodded and, her task complete, left again, leaving Spike and Twilight to sheepishly regard each other, knowing what this meant.

“So,” Twilight began with a sigh, “I suppose this is goodbye again.”

“Yeah,” Spike said as he checked to make sure he had everything (not that he had brought much with him in the first place) and gave Twilight a small, somewhat forced, but friendly grin. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be a forever one.”

He turned to go, Twilight wheeling herself in her wheelchair cart around so to watch him as he walked for the door, mind pondering. “Where do we stand now, Spike?” she asked suddenly.

Spike stopped in the door for a moment before looking back her. “Back at the beginning, Twilight,” he said. “Let’s resolve to do it better this time through, how about?”

Then with that final thought spoken, he turned and left the room, leaving Twilight standing behind on the balcony, pondering on the whole conversation and what it might mean for the future…