Deep inside Twilight Sparkle’s abdomen, there was a battle going on. Generally, the battles going on inside her stomach and chest cavity consisted of a stress induced ulcer, stomach flu, or maybe a lack of good flora. But nowadays, there was a far more important fight at stake. It was a battle… for love.
George the Spleen sat feeling moody, where he usually did, nestled up against the side of Twilight’s stomach. It was where he’d been all his life, and apart from a few very unusual jostling or magical mishaps, he hadn’t gotten to travel much. This was a shame, because George had the heart (or at least metaphorical heart, the actual heart was a total jock douchebag who only cared about doing reps) of a poet, and frequently experienced wanderlust. He wanted to see more of the body, wanted to experience the functions of the rest of Twilight’s systems. But no. He was there. Right next to his noisy neighbor who was always throwing parties with the esophagus and upper GI tract. Most of the time it was just gurgly and annoying.
The liver, Oliver, was his only solace most of the time. It would give him advice, and some much needed company from the stomach. It was Oliver who told him that he wasn’t missing much, and how boring the other side of the body was, since he saw so much of it. Twilight’s liver was huge, like abnormally huge. She probably should have seen a doctor about it, but unfortunately none of her organs could tell her that something was wrong besides the occasional random pain. And she usually ignored that as anxiety due to being a princess.
Today, Oliver could tell that George was really feeling down. For one thing, he wasn’t processing blood as well, and fewer white cells were produced to help the immune system. When he was in a mood like this, the entire body could feel it, but especially Oliver the Liver.
“Hey Georgie Boy,” Oliver said as gently as he could, “What’s going on with you today?”
In response, George just gave a heavy sigh.
“It’s… her again,” he said, sounding very weary.
Oliver rolled his nonexistent eyes.
He knew that George was again referring to Angelina. In normal circumstances, the two never should have met, what with her being a gallbladder, and on the opposite side of the stomach from George. But once, six months ago or so, Twilight had performed a spell where she became some sort of blob creature. It had been an accident, but for about ten minutes, her organs had become free-floating wanderers, and George had taken the opportunity to see as many parts of her body as he possibly could. In his wandering, he’d caught sight of a small, beautiful, unfamiliar organ.
This had been Angelina. Although she could spit bile like a sailor, she was refined somehow, as if she had been sheltered by others all her life. George had approached her immediately, as if drawn to her instinctively.
“H-hi,” he’d stuttered out awkwardly. “I’m… George the Spleen. And you are?”
“Angelina,” she’d said evenly, like a perfect lady. “The gallbladder.”
Even the sound of her voice made George’s non-ears ring like he was hearing music.
“I haven’t seen much of you before,” he’d said. “Where in Twilight’s body do you live?”
“The side of the stomach,” she’d said. “Probably opposite from you. The Pancreas is my neighbor, maybe you know Frank?”
“Oh, I guess so, I’ve never met him,” George had said. “But it’s very nice to meet you.”
It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. He’d wanted to say he loved her, from the moment he’d seen her. He wanted to profess his deepest feelings, that he’d never live an instant without thinking of her. He’d wanted to say that she was the most beautiful organ in the body, lungs be damned. But instead they’d just smiled at each other. And chatted. And laughed a little.
And then, before he was ready for it. The whole body lit up with magic and re-aligned itself into the proper order as Twilight fixed her globulous mistake. He hadn’t seen her since.
Oliver knew this story of a love un-realized, as he’d heard George tell it many times. He sighed heavily, metabolizing a few nutrients as he did.
“George, mate, she’s from a totally different world than you,” he said, as gently as he could. “You’ve got to let her go!”
“But I can’t!” George groaned. “It would be like… like… you letting go of that fatty deposit you’re storing in secret.”
“Hey, keep it down about that,” Oliver hissed. “That kinda secret can kill someone.”
“But you know what I mean.”
Oliver hesitated, then sighed again.
“Yes, I get what you’re saying,” he conceded. “But this is different. She was never yours to have.”
“But I can’t know that for sure,” George said. “Maybe she felt the same way, maybe she loved me and was just too shy to say anything! You should have seen how shy she was, Oliver. She was a blushing, beautiful, refined lady.”
“Well, I mean the refining part makes sense…”
“She was so witty, so intellectual,” he went on. “Maybe it’s foolish to think that she would ever fall in love with me. Maybe I’m just being an idiot carrying on this way. But I can’t shake the feeling that there was something there. Something real.”
With this, he seemed like he might begin to cry, would would have been absolutely catastrophic for Twilight’s lymphatic system. After all this emotion, Oliver finally let out a frustrated groan and shook his head-like lobe.
“Okay, OKAY, I might be able to help you out. I just can’t stand your bellyaching anymore.”
George brightened considerably.
“Might,” Oliver emphasized again. “No promises, but I can actually see Angelina from where I am. We’re actually pretty close, even if she tends to hang out more with the pancreas, thinks I’m too above her. I could… try to ask her about you. If you want.”
“You’re just telling me this now?!” George almost shouted. “Why didn’t you offer before?!”
“Well, it’s a weird thing,” Oliver said, obviously uncomfortable. “I always felt like she’d be toxic to you. Like you just don’t match.”
“I don’t care, do it! Ask her about me! I have to know!” George pleaded.
After a moment of final consideration, Oliver sighed and nodded once more.
“Okay, one sec.”
With that, he shifted his attention away from George. The Spleen sat there, as it was all he could do, just crossing his mental fingers and praying that there would be an answer soon. After what felt like years, he sensed Oliver’s attention switch back to his side of the stomach.
“Well? WELL?” he demanded, breathless, as usual.
Oliver gave a wry laugh.
“Well, you’d never believe it but…”
“It turns out she hasn’t stopped thinking about you since you met. She’s been talking the pancreas' lining off about you, wondering if she’ll ever see you again.”
George felt his metaphorical heart leap.
“Y-you mean,” he stuttered out. “She loves me too?”
“It seems so!” Oliver said. “I just hope it brings you some closure, you know?”
Inside George, he felt something beginning to burn. And it wasn’t some kind of bacterial infection, either. It was a flame of love, a power so strong that no normal bodily function or purpose could put it out. He felt it swell to a raging inferno inside him, and he felt a strength he had never experienced before. He felt like he could move worlds to be with this beautiful organ, Angelina. And right then, he felt compelled to try.
“I have to see her,” he said, voice trembling.
Oliver blinked, or would have if he’d had any eyelids.
“I have to!” George said desperately. “I’m going to do it! I’m going over there!”
“But… wait! George! No!” Oliver cried, but it was too late.
With a wrenching cry, George began to strain at his moorings, moving alongside the stomach. It was such an effort that all the other organs could feel it, and his neighbor the stomach began to complain as he trespassed on foreign territory. But George didn’t stop. He was driven to fight, driven by a battle for a lady’s affections. He couldn’t stop. He continued to struggle, halting flesh and muscle behind him as he moved. It seemed impossible, but as he compressed the stomach and slipped past the upper intestinal tract, he soon saw a small, sleek form. One he recognized.
“Angelina!” he called out. “My darling Angelina, it’s me!”
He saw Angelina look up, and they locked symbolic eyes. There was a moment of silence between them, but in that silence, their fleshy expressions said everything that George had been reluctant could say before. Their love bloomed around them like E. coli, and before he knew it, George was moving towards her again, much to the distress and protesting of all the other organs.
As they neared each other, reaching for a forbidden embrace, he could hear the tremble in Angelina’s voice.
“Or George!” she said, affection filling her tone. “Kiss me! Kiss me you wonderful, handsome spleen!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. At long last, after so much pining and wishing, the two organs fell into each others embrace, and shared their first kiss.
Twilight sat in the emergency room bed, staring glumly at the doctor. He was examining an X-ray with a deeply perplexed look, then glancing up at her swollen belly, then looking down again. After a few more minutes, he rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Princess, I’ve never seen anything like this before! You organs are all… twisted and mixed up. In ways that should be impossible!”
“Well can you do something?” Twilight said, cringing in obvious pain. “This acid reflux is killing me! I can’t keep anything down, and my stomach feels like it’s been tied in knots or punched over and over again or something. Every time I breathe I taste bile!”
“We could try surgery,” the doctor said with a shrug. “But it might be too risky. Honestly, it might be better if you used your magic to try to put things right.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?” Twilight snapped, massaging her lower abdomen as it gurgled plaintively. “But no matter what I do, none of my spells seem to work!”
What Twilight didn’t know was that her spells were being halted by an even greater magic, one more powerful even than that of a princess. A magic she’d never break, even if it eventually killed her.
That magic was love.