Accidents
“Tell me Twilight, do you know what Harmony is?”
“Princess?”
“Harmony, Twilight. What do you think it is?”
“What brought this up milady?”
“Oh, just an old mare’s idle curiosity. Now do please indulge me; what do you think Harmony is?”
“Um, okay… its, just a description of peace and prosperity, right…? I could look into some more comprehensive definitions back at the library if you… did I say something funny?”
“No my student, I should not have laughed, but it would do you some good to get your nose out of those dusty old books every now and then.”
“I’m sorry, Princess.”
“Don’t apologize Twilight. Your thirst for knowledge is never a bad thing, just… a little unbalanced. Which brings me back rather nicely to my original point. You truly think Harmony is just a word on a page? A description in a book?”
“Um… Yes?”
“Then scoot closer my little pony, and listen well, for what I am about to tell you may very well be the most important lesson you will ever learn from me… Now Harmony is the most basic- Put that notebook away, Twilight, you won’t be tested on this. Just listen.”
“Sorry Princess.”
“Alright… now as I was saying, Harmony is far more than just a loquacious synonym for peace, it is the most basic aspect of-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
“Aaauugh!!” Twilight screamed as she bolted up in bed.
A shrill piercing noise was echoing through the library, and reverberating throughout the wooden walls into the small bed’s wooden frame. She took a few deep breaths to clear away the shock, then flopped back down into her blankets and tried to shut out the shrieking sound with her pillow. It receded to a mildly annoying whine, and she was able to hear herself think for the first time that morning.
Despite her rather abrupt awakening, the mare was still mostly asleep, and almost managed to slip back into unconsciousness, despite the piercing wail. But just before she was taken back into the sandpony’s embrace, a stray thought fought to break free of the morning fog that clouded her mind.
Spike.
Something about Spike.
She shifted a hoof out of the bed and flopped it bonelessly towards his basket. Her hoof met wicker and cloth, but no scales. He must have gotten up already. Probably out in town or the forest or something.
Forest… Spike.
Something in the back of her brain was straining to make some unseen connection, but Twilight ignored it. She was so tired. She had obviously stayed up too late talking to Rarity and comforting Spike.
Rarity… Spike… Comforting…
A few seconds ticked by.
“Spike!” her head flew up from the bed for the second time that morning and she scrambled out of her blankets, now fully awake. The last night’s memories were playing in her head so vividly as she scrambled to the stairs that she didn’t even notice that the high pitched wailing had stopped. Twilight clamored down to the main level as fast as she could, and called for him again.
“SPIKE!”
“I’m in here.”
The answer came from the library’s rather small kitchen, and to Twilight’s relief, was no longer choked with sobs or tears. She hurried over to the saloon style doors that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the treehouse, and pushed them aside hastily.
He was standing over their old stove with the help of a chair and was holding a malformed teapot in one hand, and a mismatched pair of steaming mugs in the other.
“Are you okay? Why didn’t you wake me up? What was that noise?” she stopped to take a breath when something in particular caught her attention, “... and why is the teapot half-melted?”
Spike looked down at the melted kettle guiltily and set it and the mugs onto the counter gently before explaining, “I woke up a few minutes ago and I was going to wake you up too, but you looked so tired. So I decided to make us some tea for when you did get up.” He glanced down and scratched his head nervously, “And I may have gotten a little impatient at how long it was taking for the water to boil.” He looked up at her sheepishly and tried to manage a grin, but Twilight could see how red his eyes still were.
Oh Spike, she thought, you don’t have to act strong for me.
“Are you mad?” he asked hesitantly, and his voice cracked a little. Before he knew it, the dragon was being pulled into a hug by both purple hooves and magic.
“Why would I be mad?” she asked him reassuredly; and pulled back to look at him squarely. His eyes were wet again, but he sniffed and rubbed them clear with a claw.
“Because,” he stopped and took a deep breathe, and a well emotions that he had been bottling up since he fell asleep broke free, “…because I can’t even manage to heat up water without screwing up; and... and because, now… Rarity knows… she saw me Twilight… we’ll be chased out of Ponyville.” he sniffed again, and his eyes started to dampen.
She pulled him back into the hug and told him, “I’m the one that told Rarity, Spike. Not you. I‘m the reason she was at the library so late, and I’m the reason she knows now; so if anything, you should be mad at me. Are you mad at me?”
He pulled away and looked at her with wide eyes, and then shook his head furiously. “I trust you Twilight, if you thought that telling Rarity was the right thing to do; then it was. I could never be mad at you for that.”
Twilight sighed, and wished that she merited that sort of conviction. “But I don’t know if it was the right thing to do Spike. I just… didn’t know what to do, and she saw you come in and started panicking and I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I… told her the truth. At the time I thought she would be willing to look past the slant society has put on carnivorism, as a friend if nothing else; but apparently I was mistaken. I’m so sorry Spike; I’m sorry that I told her, and I understand if you’re mad at me.”
He looked down from her gaze, and seemed to be intently focusing on the wooden floorboards. After a few seconds he looked up her, and wiped his eyes dry with a clawed hand. As he looked at her, Twilight could see the worry in his face and the shadows under his eyes, but Spike just smiled and said, “I could never be mad at you Twilight. If Rarity’s mad then we’ll deal with it right? And if she tells Ponyville, then we’ll deal with that too. I don’t blame you for telling her.”
A weight seemed to drop of her shoulders, and Twilight let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding in. He wasn’t mad. She hadn’t appreciated how anxious she had been, but now that she had gotten that of her chest, she was almost giddy with relief. “We can handle anything they throw at us Spike.” She told him with a confident grin, and he matched hers with his own. The tension drained out of the room and, for right now at least, it felt like a normal morning.
Apart from one thing.
Twilight turned her head back to the counters and stove and asked wryly, “So… what made you decide to melt our teapot?”
He blushed visibly at the question, and led her back to the counter where a squat and heavy “I Heart Eggheads” mug sat steaming next to its old and chipped “Number 1 Assistant” counterpart. Next to them, the cooling teapot rested on the stove, still too hot to be put on the counters. The spout had spiraled over to one side and a large portion of the metal wall had caved inward, but there were no holes in the body, and the spout was still clear enough to pour water out of.
“Um…” he started, and Twilight was pleased to hear that the shakiness had left his voice. “Well, I wanted to surprise you when you got up, and I figured that since you’re normally up at the crack of dawn, that it wouldn’t be much longer till you woke up. So I decided to try and make some tea, but the stovetop was so slow. I mean it had been five whole minutes and there was barely any steam, so I… gave it a helping hoof.” He looked at her sheepishly.
Twilight gave him a rather knowing look, and then bent to examine the drooping piece of kitchenware. “Well, it doesn’t seem to have lost any structural integrity, amazingly enough. It should still work just fine even with the… current modifications. I guess we’ll just have a rather eccentric looking teapot from now on.”
Twilight started to go on, but was caught unawares by a deep yawn. She cracked her jaw and let out a deep groan. The mare blinked heavily when she regained control of her facial muscles, and was struck by how tired she felt now that the excitement was over.
“You said you made tea, right,” She asked and gestured over to the mugs on the countertop. “Which one's mine?”
Spike handed her the “I Heart Eggheads” mug that she had taken with them from Canterlot, and Twilight wrapped it in a field of magic and pulled it up to her mouth. Before the mare took a sip, she sniffed the contents warily, and asked, “And you-“
Spike rolled his eyes and cut her off, “Cream, no sugar, yeah. Come on Twi, I’ve watched you make your tea for years.” He smirked at her wryly, before picking up his own Number 1 Assistant mug.
The sat down at the kitchen’s small wooden table and drank quietly for several minutes. There was no need for small talk, they had lived together long enough that the need for conversation to fill the void of silence had long since passed. So they drank soundlessly but for a few slurps courtesy of Spike, and just enjoyed each other’s company.
Twilight took the opportunity to fully process the events of the last half a day. There was no mob of enraged villager pounding on the door, so Rarity must not have told anypony… yet. The mare’s emotions had been frayed since before she had walked through the library door; perhaps her actions last night were just the scared reactions of an emotionally worn pony. Speculation was a pointless exercise though, and Twilight was starting to wish that she knew her alabaster friend a little more.
Out of all her fellow Elements, she easily spent the least amount of time with Rarity, and really only saw her when everypony was getting together to do something as a group. She had planned parties with Pinkie Pie, gathered medicinal herbs in the forest with Fluttershy, bonded with Rainbow over Daring Doo books, and even helped Applejack organize her latest family reunion. But Twilight never really cared much for fashion, and Rarity wasn’t one for books or magical theory, and those two things seemed to create just enough of a buffer to keep the mares apart. And now Twilight was realizing that she really didn’t know what that mare was going to do in a situation like this.
Something in the back of her mind was bothering her; a vague thought that she couldn’t quite get a hold of. Something about Spike.
She looked at him while he drank his tea. He looked peaceful, which made her happy, and seemed to be enjoying what he was drinking, though Twilight was sure he could have eaten his mug and been just as pleased. Dragon taste buds didn’t discriminate.
She felt like she was missing something obvious, and examined him again more thoroughly. He was still a little scratched up from the previous night, and seemed to still be favoring his left arm.
“Spike” she said suddenly, and he looked up at her questioningly, “You’re not wearing your bandage.”
The jagged cut that ran the length of his forearm was unadorned, but had scabbed up nicely during the night and wasn’t bleeding anymore. It looked like it would turn into a rather ugly scar, though Spike would only have to wear it until the next time he shed his skin.
He looked down at his arm and nodded, “Yeah, it stopped bleeding last night, but I wrapped it up anyway to be safe. When I woke up this morning it was itching like crazy so I took off the gauze and it seems to be fine. Still a little sore though.” He flexed his elbow and wrist to demonstrate, and winced a little.
“How’d you get it?” Twilight asked, since she had never had the opportunity to learn last night.
“A boar stumbled into my section of the woods, and I…” he trailed off and shrugged, “…you know… It put up a bit of a fight.”
She grimaced and tried not to imagine him fight a boar that had probably been twice as large as he was. “I wish you wouldn’t go after things bigger than you are, Spike.”
“I know, Twilight. I try not to, but it seems like I just can’t get full on birds and rabbits anymore.” He sighed and looked away, but turned back smirking, “But it’s not like I’m fighting manticores or anything… or a hydra… or wandering into a cockatrice’s nest… or-”
“Alright! Alright!” She held up her hooves and exclaimed, “I admit I haven’t been a sterling example of wise decisions when it comes to the Everfree Forest, but Spike… just please try to be careful. I don’t want you to end up hurt again.” Or worse, she thought.
“I’ll be careful Twilight.” He told her with that same wry grin, and Twilight felt a little irritated that he wasn’t taking this seriously.
“Promise me Spike. Please.”
He looked a little taken aback by her words, and the air of sarcasm slipped away completely from his face.
“I promise.”
***
Rarity had not slept well.
She spent the night tossing and turning beneath her piles of blankets and pillows, but was never able to get comfortable enough to sleep. Memories of her conversation with Twilight kept floating back to her, mixed with half-forgotten parental warnings from her childhood and the words of her history teachers back at the university.
“Remember children:
‘Claws and Fangs; run away,
Hooves and Manes are okay.’”
“Never approach a predator.”
“He’s perfectly safe!”
“Equestria was carved out of this hostile world to provide a sanctuary from the creatures outside our borders. We may devolve to infighting every now and then, but we Equestrians have not known the true horrors of the world in a very long time.”
“The Princess taught him herself.”
“Mindless beasts live out in the old world. They would kill any one of you in an instant and not feel a single flicker of remorse.”
“He only hunts Acceptable Prey; never ponies. Spike likes Ponies”
“…predator…”
“…monster…”
“Spike.”
Her insomniatic mind was a flurry of different emotions. Part of her was still trying to reconcile her mental image of Spike with the countless warnings about predators she had been given since she was a filly. Another, more bitter, part of her was still reeling from the fact that Twilight had kept something like this a secret from her; from her friends. She thought she could trust the other mare, but something like this was… inexcusable.
The last part of her that was trying to sort through her current mess was sending her slight twinges of guilt, but she quickly stamped those feelings out with her sense of betrayal, and any of a countless number of warnings about the dangers of “meat eaters”.
Knock Knock Knock
Rarity jumped at the sudden noise, and considered ignoring it to continue to try and sleep. But it came again, and louder than the first time, and she could hear her name being called through the shield of pillows she was holding over her head.
She gave an exasperated sigh, and started the long process that was climbing out of bed. As she pulled herself out of the cocoon of tightly folded sheets, she could hear her name being called again, and was able to make out a distinct country twang in the yell.
Applejack, then.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Coming!” she called, and decided against taking the time to brush herself up in the bathroom. That mare could be destructively impatient sometimes. She half fell down the stairs that led from her bedroom down to the boutique’s parlor, and hurried over to the door.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNO-
Rarity pulled the door open just as it started to rattle on its hinges, and was met by an orange hoof halfway through the motion of colliding with the door. It stopped just short of her horn, and pulled back to let Rarity focus on the ponies standing in her doorway. Applejack stood just on the front step, and was followed by Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Bell who were all standing a good ways back from the mare. None of the fillies were talking.
“Howdy Rarity!” came the country twang of her farmer friend, though in a strained tone that sounded like someone was abusing a banjo. “Ah’ve just come to return your- Damn girl, yah look straight awful. What’s riled ya up so much that’d make ya let yourself look so disagreeable?”
“What?” she asked in a befuddled haze.
“Ain’t ya seen yourself Rarity? Here, look.” Applejack told her and then angled the open door so she could get a glimpse of her reflection in its glass window. It took her a few seconds to realize that the hazy mass of purple she was seeing was her hair.
Rarity winced, and took a step back from the doorway to keep passersby from seeing her in this state. The blurred image in the door only showed the vague shape of her new hair style, but it seemed to have decided to revert to a style that hadn’t been popular for a least three decades. She ran a hoof through it in a halfhearted attempt to get the locks to stand down, but gave up when she made no headway. She was starting to regret not stopping in the bathroom on the way down.
“Ya’ll right Rarity? Ah ain’t seen ya lookin’ this upset since the Gala.”
She had almost launched into one of her well-worn deflections about bad hair days and too much humidity, when something stopped her.
She could tell Applejack.
Right now.
Just tell her everything and let the other mare sort it out. The farmer had been raised on the outskirts of Equestrian territory by a family of pioneers; if anyone knew the dangers of predators it would be her.
The ivory mare opened her mouth, and started to explain, “Actually, I think there’s something you should-”
“Rarity please, don’t tell them. Please, I’m asking you as a friend, don’t tell them.”
The memory of Twilight’s desperate plea made her words catch in her throat, and she closed her mouth with a click. She had promised. Promised as Twilight’s friend. If she told Applejack, the mare would bring down the whole town on the purple librarian and her assistant. A large part of her wanted to tell her anyway, but the memory of Twilight’s beseeching expression kept her mouth closed.
Rarity leaned on the door frame and rubbed her forehead, trying to stave off a blossoming migraine. “…never mind Applejack, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Applejack looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but eventually shrugged her shoulders and said, “If yah say so sugarcube. Just remember that if yah do decide ta tell me, Ah’ll be listenin’.” Applejack told her with a touch of worry in her voice. The orange mare turned back to face the three fillies behind her, and gestured at Sweetie Bell to come up.
“Well anyway, like Ah was sayin, Ah’ve come by ta return your sister early. It appears that Applebloom and her friends took it upon themselves to give carpentry a hoof, and their attempts have left quite the sizable hole in the far side of the sheep pen. An opportunity that did not go unnoticed by the sheep, Ah might add.”
The implications of Applejack’s words hit her, and Rarity turned to her younger sister. “Sweetie Bell!”, and was taking a deep breath with the intention of giving her little sister a strongly worded dressing down before she was cut off by the orange mare.
“Now, now, now need to be all harsh with the filly. Ah know full well that this was Applebloom’s idea. Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo ain’t the type of pony that’d suggest destroying another creature’s property.” Applejack turned to look back at her sister, who appeared to be trying to glare a hole in the ground. Applejack continued without noticing, or in spite of, her sister’s attitude.
“Which means that after she helps me round up all the lost sheep, an since she’s so interested, Applebloom’s going to get some one-on-one lessons on carpentry, which she will then utilize to maintain the rest o’ the farm’s fencin’ until a time Ah deem appropriate for her ta stop.” The yellow filly winced at the prophesized workload, and decided to try and speak up.
“But Applejack,” Applebloom started; and Rarity could see Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo shaking their heads at the other filly and making swiping motions across their throats from behind Applejack’s back. “Ah told you, it was like that when we got there. We brought the tools from the barn so we could fix it, but yah found us too soon…” she trailed off whith a whine, and her words just seemed to make Applejack irritated, because the mare rounded on her little sister as soon as she was done.
“Missy, ya’ll are in enough trouble already without tryin’ to fib your way out of it. That fence was taken apart; amateurishly Ah’ll admit, but not destroyed or broken into or out of. And you’re tryin’ to tell me that you just found it disassembled as it was, and then just happened to go get the tools required for such an endeavor, right before Ah found you.” It was not a question, and Applejack’s tone left no room for a rebuttal.
The small filly cowered under her sister’s words, and backed away with her head to the ground to where her friends could offer consolidating pats on the back, and barely heard whispers of “I told you so”.
Applejack turned back to Rarity and rolled her eyes before saying, “Well, Ah gotta get Scootaloo home, so Ah guess this where we part. It was nice to see ya Rarity, and if ya change your mind about telling me that, Ah’ll be at the farm.” The orange pony ushered Sweetie Bell from her place at Applebloom’s side to the boutique’s door and set off with a “Come on you two” to the other fillies.
Rarity watched the solemn trio walk away, and then pulled her sister into the parlor. She turned to the filly once she had shut the door, and leveled her with the best disappointed look she could manage. “I hope you have some sort of explanation for this.” She told the filly. Rarity’s migraine was starting to come on in full force, and she hoped her words and expression would quail the girl enough that she would go to her room without much fuss. What she didn’t expect was for Sweetie Bell to burst like a dam and start to expel out a rushed explanation.
“But Rarity, Applebloom was telling the truth. We really did find the fence all taken apart like that, and then Applebloom suggested that we could fix it and see if we could get our Cutie Marks at the same time so she got the tools from the barn but right when we were about to start Applejack arrived and she saw the hole and the empty pen and…” The words came out in a single breath, and Sweetie Bell had to stop her hurried monologue to refill her lungs, so Rarity took the opportunity to head her off.
“Sweetie, I’d love to believe that, I really would. But if Applejack could tell that Applebloom wasn’t telling the truth, how can I trust this from you? You shouldn’t lie to cover your friends. Now please just go to your room.” She was definitely getting a migraine. The little filly scowled at her, and then opened her mouth to continue, but Rarity cut her off.
“Sweetie Bell…” she warned, and the filly glared at her before letting out a frustrated scream, and started trudging up the stairs to her room. Rarity could hear her muttering all sorts of things under her breathe, but did her best to ignore them. For her headache if nothing else; Spike and Twilight were problem enough without the colorful vocabulary of a vandalizing sister to worry about.
Rarity sighed in relief when she heard Sweetie’s door slam shut, and for not the first time that week, wondered where Fluttershy had gotten to. She was always willing to lend Rarity an ear in trying times.
The ivory mare slumped down onto her chaise lounge and put her head in her hooves.
She really needed to talk to somepony.