//------------------------------// // My Crystal Slaves... // Story: Long Live the Sovereign // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// Far behind and down below in the plaza, Chancellor Carnelian waved placatingly and looked as contrite as possible, for the protesting crystal ponies swarmed her the moment she stepped outside. Placards and angry faces blocked her view on all sides. “I assure you,” she shouted over the crowd while trying to sound dignified, “your complaints have been heard! I will convey them to Her Highness the Crystal Princess Flurry Heart forthwith to work out a diplomatic solution!” “Her Highness!?” shrieked someone from the crowd. “What a load! ‘Diplomatic solution’: I don’t think she can spell it!” “Tell ‘Her Highness’ she can’t treat us this way!” “Carnelian for life!” “Make her abdicate!” “Yeah! Everypony knows it was you making the edicts anyway!” “Bring back Cadence and Shining Armor!” “She’s the Crystal Princess! Tell her to do her job!” “For a change!” “Don’t be a pushover, Carnelian!” The junior maid fought her way to the front. “She must pay for what she did to my father! Work was his life! How dare she!? How dare she ruin his life! My own father!” Deep down, Carnelian seethed like acid in a copper cauldron. Nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to say “What the hay,” jump in, and shout out every unspoken word of anger at Flurry Heart. The thinnest threads of professional pride were all that separated her from waving placards, though it was more tempting to hit Flurry over the head with one. Instead, Carnelian closed her eyes and inclined her head in solemn acknowledgement. “Your case has been heard. I will convey it to Her Highness the Crystal Princess forthwith.” Quite a few crystal ponies quietened down at this. Some at the front quickly hid among the crowd behind. Only the junior maid stayed rigid and defiant. Carnelian rolled her eyes. “Tactfully, of course.” They were still shouting their complaints – the junior maid loudest of all – when Carnelian ducked back inside, leaned against the door, put her head in her hooves, and screamed a muffled scream. Only once she’d run out of scream… and shaken herself down… and taken deep, steadying breaths… did she compose her face and go seek Her Highness. Princess Flurry Heart was found in her throne room, surrounded by stuffed toys and merry bunting, pacing up and down. Her body never let up, clutching at the rhythmic clop-clop-clop as though it were a ritual against demons. Her wings refused to fold. Her tail flicked in agitation at the invisible horseflies of biting thought. Every breath seemed to give her pain. She whimpered and gasped and squeaked with the effort of getting enough life into her dying form. Occasionally, strained phrases leaked out of her broken mind via her mouth: “…don’t understand…” “…Auntie Twily…” “…it wasn’t my fault…” While her mouth worked, her eyes darted about. Her mane unwound from its usual graceful curls as if in sympathy. Her cheeks twitched, her nostrils flared as though starving, her brow reached down in an attempt to hide anything unpleasant from view. And her mind… Unbidden, echoing, yet stronger with age: two faces. One surrounded by curls – much like her own – pink and graceful and speaking in loving tones. One white as snow, rumbling with pride, occasionally squeaking trying to talk down to her level. Faces high up. Faces she knew. Faces she saw shrink away. Faces that suddenly shouted in panic. Faces that vanished in a flash of light. “…it wasn’t my fault…” Her flash of light. Flurry Heart gasped under the familiar shock. It would never relent. It would never go away. When the light from her horn had faded. No mother. No father. No castle. “…it wasn’t my fault…” Auntie Twilight’s tears and wide eyes and flinching, twitchy mask of terror – “NO!” Flurry Heart’s cry. NO! No! No! No. no. no… Flurry Heart’s echo in the Crystal Castle. “It’s not my fault…” Flurry Heart’s sob. “It’s not my fault…” Hoofsteps. She stopped pacing, looked up, and hastily wiped her eyes. Carnelian stood there, the double doors swinging shut behind her. “Your Highness.” Carnelian bowed. “That’s right!” cried Flurry Heart desperately. “I’m the Crystal Princess! It’s my destiny! I’m the greatest, I…” As if a faucet had run out, she was left listening to the hollow echo of her own words. Part of her mind glanced at Carnelian. Part of her knew only one of them had done any actual ruling. Glowering, she shushed that part. A good princess knew when to delegate. Twilight herself had said so. A good princess earned her respect. If her subjects didn’t – “Carnelian?” she said, nervous as a toddler to her tutor. “Your Highness?” Carnelian was a statue of efficiency. “What do the other crystal ponies think of me?” Twilight’s anger knocked her thoughts a certain direction. “Do they hate me?” It seemed to her that Carnelian took too long to answer. “The crystal ponies are happy under Her Highness’ royal edicts, and the kingdom has prospered under your reign.” “Don’t patronize me! Do they hate me or not!?” Again, too long a pause. “Some are not 100% satisfied, true, but by and large your subjects live happy lives, thanks to your administration.” Flurry looked as though she’d been slapped. Then she ambled over and peered out the window. Far below, the shouts of protest became the murmurs of discontent. She swore she heard her mother’s name. Her father’s too. They knew. They must know… The vision: of Auntie Twilight’s pain, her grief, her unnatural tears… her rage, her hatred, her horrible Bad Auntie shouting through Flurry’s shield and wings… Flurry shook the memory – or was it a dream? – away, and then reached up. Her cheeks were wet to the touch. “My subjects hate me, don’t they?” she moaned. “I wouldn’t say that. Every ruler has their problems. What matters is how she handles them.” The speaker could have been Carnelian, there and then. It could have been Twilight, so long ago. Flurry couldn’t tell. Distance. That was the thing. If she kept her distance from all the bad stuff, it would stop troubling her anymore. Or if she pushed it away. Nothing would stop her from fulfilling her destiny. Her good destiny. It had to be a good destiny! It just had to be! What else could her birth possibly mean!? Why else would Twilight and the others keep mentioning it!? Very well. Princess Flurry Heart no longer paced and fidgeted and moaned. She stood proud and beautiful. The perfect fusion of her parents. She rounded on Carnelian, who was the picture of duty itself, not far behind her. “I will solve my problems, Carney. You’ll see.” A thought stung her. “You don’t hate me, do you?” “Of course not.” Carnelian bowed again. “I am your loyal servant. I will follow you wherever you go.” Flurry Heart’s jaw hardened. “Good… good. Then… let’s go… let’s go all the way…” One week passed. Imprisoned in her own castle by the chains of duty, Princess Twilight Sparkle briefly stepped out onto the balcony to share in the sunrise. Possibilities flushed above the breeze. The emptiness asked nothing of her. For a moment, she was left alone with the peaceful world. The Dragon-Griffon situation had improved. Ember and Gilda had sojourned in the castle, and Ember had even promised not to eat the crystal walls, despite the presence of suspicious bite marks here and there. Unification – Twilight’s go-to strategy – hadn’t pleased them. Dragons and griffons were too independent, too proud, too unsentimental to fall for that one. But the more time they spent in each other’s company under one roof, the more Ember and Gilda bonded over the time-honoured pastime of making fun of puny ponies. Namely Twilight. Wings spreading, warming up, Twilight daydreamed of her missing friends. They had duties of their own, of course, and she would see them again someday. If only the love would let her believe that. If only she could hear their voices now… She could hear the first hurried hoofsteps of Captain Flash Sentry reaching her balcony. Curious, Twilight turned to meet him. “News from Northern Equestria!” Five minutes later, the castle was just a distant feature, already forgotten. The air was cold. The sun meant nothing. Pressure and force surrounded, swarmed, suffocated Twilight as she called for Spike, leaped onto his passing back, and flew onward, leaving her heart behind to shatter and fall. First, there were the northern towns of Equestria. Ponies clogged the roads and trains departing in haste. Ponies poured out of cottages and bungalows. Panic fled south. Far above, their cries and determined bustle didn’t reach Twilight, numb and already dying on Spike’s back, while above her like a naked sword, the shock and betrayal and fear bashed against her shields, stabbing their way in. Her mind wouldn’t last long under the siege. Second, there was the frontline. As towns gave way to the edge of the icescapes, she saw ponies fighting. Unicorns sparked and flared with magical strikes. Earth ponies lobbed boulders or grappled with the foe themselves. Pegasi zipped and divebombed and – where the fighting was most intense – fell out of the sky or fled, giving up. Spike flew over them all. “Spike, stop –” “No, Twilight! Focus! We’ve got to stop it at the source!” Twilight spoke no more. Words were straining her body already. Third, there was the enemy. The sudden enemy that had struck out of nowhere. At first glance, they looked like stockier ponies, but the uniform soon became easier to decipher. Helmets with thin green eyes that glowed ominously, visible even from up here. Gemstones glistening on their armour – some gems sparked and flared in kind, meeting the unicorns’ magic. A few magical beasts dotted their ranks: to Twilight’s astonishment, a gigantic snail ploughed its way through the line, leaving hissing green slime, roaring with fangs, and waggling dozens of stalked eyes. Fourth, there was the Crystal Kingdom. The snow gave way to a gigantic snowflake of a citadel: the roads spiking out from its central tower, the lines converging and spreading in geometric perfection. The site was a hive. Cartloads of crystals radiated outwards, heading south. Gaping holes surrounded the citadel: mines carting new gems. Ponies in chains were prodded by helmeted crystal ponies – captured slaves. The war machine, already in full throttle. And the Crystal Castle, at the centre of it all. From banners and flags, Princess Flurry Heart’s beaming face encouraged the helmeted citizens. In the plaza, Spike’s statue had vanished, as had Flurry Heart’s coronation equivalent. A larger one – a colossus of the Crystal Princess – now stood, dominating all. “Hey, that’s going too far!” Spike growled, dived – He yelped. A blast knocked him clean backwards, throwing Twilight off. He spiralled down, smoking. Twilight flapped to steady herself, but could only manage a stiff glide. A crash. Spike disappeared into the plaza, obscured by a spray of white dust. “SPIKE!” “KEEP GOING! I’M FINE!” But Twilight had instantly taxed her wings. With a cry, she found the only way was down, down through the gaping hole in the castle, down. Into the lair of the Crystal Princess. The throne room. Twilight avoided a low coronation banner, landed hard on the crystal floor, grunted, and struggled to her hooves. “Auntie! Thank goodness you came! Oh, it’s such a relief to see you!” She forced herself to look up. Princess Flurry Heart had looked away from what she was doing. Several hovering, head-sized things glowed and glared beside her, though they were as yet too bright to make out. They cast strange, spidery shadows on the wall where Flurry’s slender body blocked them. Nearby, Chancellor Carnelian stood. Twilight stared. From the neck down, Carnelian was ever the dutiful servant. From the neck up, she was a mare dangling over the fires of Tartarus. Twilight lost the will to meet her stare for stare. Things crept into her mind through those eyes. There was so much horror, it had warped and shifted into something deadly… Yet Flurry Heart strutted about, surrounded by the darkening skies of the Frozen North beyond the toy-strewn, bunting-bedecked throne room itself. She grinned smugly. “Don’t worry, Auntie,” she said, and the calm in her voice would have sharpened ice. “It’s all under control.” Despite her own pain, Twilight found her gaze drifting over to Carnelian’s thousand-mile stare. “I solved my problems! All by myself!” continued Flurry, busy again with her glowing spell. “Like a princess should! Turns out everypony in the kingdom didn’t love me like they ought to, and I knew you’d tell me to do something about that. So I did! I thought and I thought, and I realized if the crystal ponies weren’t going to be happy on their own, then I had to make them happy. That’s when I hit upon the mind-changing helmets. Clever, huh!?” Even saying her niece’s name needed Twilight to take desperate breaths, readying herself for reality. Still Flurry Heart continued, eager and proud. “Then I thought, ‘Why stop there?’ I was a good ruler, just like Mom and Dad were. But maybe because I was born into it, like they weren’t, so obviously I could do better than them. And since I’d made the Crystal Kingdom happy, maybe I could make everypony else happy too. So I made my kingdom cuddle all the others.” Outside, the blasts struck on. Spike’s roar drowned out the explosions. Ponies shrieked and cried out. Chains jangled. The rushing winds of an encroaching blizzard howled in haunting hunger. Flurry whined as though struck by a spear. “You know what they did!? You know what they did!? They attacked me! Me! The Crystal Princess!” Twilight had to spread her gait wider, steady herself, stay her swaying. The room began to heave about her as though disgusted by her presence. She breathed every breath as though it was her last, whilst the whining little voice of her niece came from another lifetime. “I was just trying to help, and they lashed out for no reason at all! Meanies! They’re no better than the yaks! No one is! That isn’t my fault! If they’d just left me alone to get on with princessing, this wouldn’t have happened.” From across the glittering ice of despair, Twilight found the remnants of her voice: “Flurry…” “But don’t worry! I can fix this! See, I’m not a helpless baby anymore!” Flurry beamed proudly at Twilight. No response. The proudness dimmed slightly. Coughing awkwardly, Flurry stepped aside, the better to show her Best Auntie Ever her new trick. Her shadow on the wall grew. One by one, the glowing objects began to rotate, spiral, and dim, until the suggestion of curves and points resolved into familiar sharp-edged shapes. Merely seeing one shape brought back memories from a time long before Flurry, from a time before Twilight had felt wings on her back and the crown weighing heavily on her head. “Look! I remembered how Mom and Dad used the old Crystal Heart to protect the Crystal Empire. When they used the old Crystal Heart, the hope and love shone out of it like a beacon. Equestria and everywhere else were all safe and snug. Well, now I’m going to do the same, but better.” The six shapes focused, came into view, revealed themselves as carved from quartz. “I made my own Crystal Hearts! Six, exactly. I remembered what you told me, about your friends and their adventures with the Elements of Harmony. Six is a magically powerful number, after all.” Twilight’s blood chilled, draining away the last of her energy. The Crystal Heart had been the ultimate in magical artefacts. It had swept aside invading monsters, dark sorcerers, and the permanent blizzards of the Frozen North as easily as a child swatted away flies. Even she couldn’t have made one… Her niece had made six. The sky darkened. Thunder and raging white surrounded all, hemming them in. Flurry hoisted her wings, her horn aimed at the heart of the ceiling, and her childish smile melted under the years of seething-hot rage at too much lost innocence. When she spoke, the castle’s very foundations trembled. “And now I’m gonna wipe away all the bad, once and for all.” She paused, grinning, waiting happily for Twilight’s reaction. Twilight’s voice nearly failed. “Flurry… no…” The pause deepened. No reaction. “Please… this has to stop…” In the silence, Flurry’s face was horribly familiar. The calculation made no attempt to hide. Then it vanished, replaced by a nervous edge. “But I’m only doing –” she began. “You have to put those down…” “NO!” The Crystal Hearts stayed. “…call off the crystal ponies…” “NO!” “…take responsibility.” “NOOOO!” Crystal shattered. Walls snapped into chunks. Outside, the sounds of fighting briefly fell silent in dread. “Please.” Twilight’s tears – of shame or fear, she couldn’t tell – bled from her eyes. “Stop this madness, Flurry. Princess. Best Niece Ever. Please –” The lightning blow struck her in the chest. Sent her tumbling backwards. Left her sliding. Fired her headfirst into the rail of the balcony. Splitting confusion hit Twilight’s mind, shook her, almost snuffed out her consciousness there and then. When she quickly came to, she saw Flurry Heart advancing. Heard the furious desperation in her niece’s broken voice. “Why, why, wwwhhhyyy does everyone keep picking on me!? Why do yyyooouuu!? Why don’t they just DO what I tell them to DO!?” Fighting every impulse to fall into the calm of darkness, Twilight made her voice rise above her failing body. “That’s… not true… I cared for you… I taught you… I love you –” “You!?” Flurry Heart’s fury threw flames, became a sneer. “Taught me!? What do you know about princessing!? You had to work and struggle for your power! I was born to it!” She didn’t hope it’d achieve a thing, but Twilight shuddered, rose, reached out to Flurry with a vague, remembered desire to hug and comfort – Got knocked back. “Fool! I’m never going to fail to you! Never again!” Flurry’s eyes glowed pure white. The air charged up. Twilight reacted. On pure instinct, the spell fuelled her muscles, lifted her to her hooves, aimed at Flurry Heart, shone with all the colours of the rainbow… …met an invisible shield, which flared golden around Flurry Heart. Twilight hadn’t even noticed it. The shield, and the spell it had absorbed, vanished again. When it cleared, Twilight collapsed into a heap. Flurry Heart hadn’t even flinched, but her face collapsed too. Neither the whining child nor the calculating adult. What was left wasn’t an age. It wasn’t even a pony. All emotion was gone. Princess Flurry Heart was as clean and pure as a dagger of ice. “Is that so?” she whispered. Twilight breathed hard. Weeks and weeks of work hadn’t broken her. Seconds of this had killed all but her soul. “I’m sorry!” she pleaded, weakly. “I don’t think ‘sorry’ is going to cut it.” Behind Princess Flurry Heart, the five Crystal Hearts blackened, intensified, poisoned themselves with all the hatred, all the fear, all the darkest emotions too great to survive on her hostile snowscape of a face. The air charged again. “I’m going to rid the world of all the bad stuff…” whispered Princess Flurry Heart. The Crystal Hearts spun faster and faster, the air grew colder and colder, the darkness curved into a ring that cut out all light, distorted the crystal throne beyond. Sparks crackled between the Hearts, buzzed, hummed, spread, and swarmed along the ring like gathering wasps. The Hearts moved forwards: under the strange light, Princess Flurry Heart’s shadow grew like a corruption over the throne itself, the wall beyond, the entire room. “…starting with my. Bad. Auntie.” Helpless, Twilight waited for the final blast. Then the ground cracked. Not around Twilight. On the wall, Flurry’s shadow suddenly sprouted spikes. Flurry’s face contorted. Her body froze. Then the loudest, rawest, most resonating scream Twilight had ever heard: the scream of a child who has never, ever felt true physical pain, and who instantly has too much. Under Flurry’s hooves, at the base of the black crystals, a lake of darkness. It had run from a river of blackness like spilt ink behind it, leading from the hooves of the crystal pony: Chancellor Carnelian. Who held aloft the sixth Crystal Heart. Pulsing. Dark. And poisonous. Carnelian hissed. “Traitors first.” Then she flung the Heart around as though to swat a horsefly out of the air. The line of darkness responded like a whip: Flurry was thrown aside. The black crystals snapped, crumpled, and evaporated. The other five Hearts went out. Hit the ground. Shattered into pieces, taking the shadows with them. Twilight’s mind went blank. Twilight’s body fought to stand up. Carnelian’s face was wild. An escapee from Tartarus would had fled before it. The glare shot at Flurry’s crumpled body where she had fallen. “You’re not fit to lick your parents’ horseshoes,” growled Carnelian. “To think I dedicated my life to a spoiled, selfish brat like you.” Then she aimed at Twilight, rooted to the spot. “How could you let this happen? She was under your care! You saw the signs! You could have…” Twilight couldn’t speak. Only stare back. But Carnelian didn’t seem able to express anything more. Her glower tried to crush itself, her teeth trembled like temple columns about to collapse from the pressure. Then she struck. The last Crystal Heart shot forwards, glowed darkly. Inky blackness pooled at her hooves in an instant, zigzagged forward like flat lightning along the ground, coiled in a blink towards Twilight – – who had finally summoned enough strength. Twilight flapped, teleported. Only a yard aside, but it was enough to dodge the suddenly sprouting spikes of black crystal. Then her horn blazed and fired. Carnelian was blown off her hooves. The last Crystal Heart went flying, struck the wall, became shards and the memory of shadows, which melted as though under harsh light. Pieces tinkled, rained down over the remnants of stuffed toys. Carnelian barely had time to groan before white crystals rose from the ground, grasping and trapping her hooves. She yelped with the shock. Twilight’s horn went out. Then sparked and flared harder. Before Carnelian could blink, Twilight loomed before her and forced her head up. Eye to eye. “Why!?” was all Twilight could manage. Hatred met hatred back. “I was tasked with protecting my kingdom. No matter what.” Outside, there were cries and yells from crystal ponies waking up. The distant clang of dropped helmets. The winding down of the mine carts, the chains, the entire war machine. The spell had been broken. More whiteness enveloped Carnelian’s body, leaving only her head free before Twilight shut off her crystallizing spell. She never looked away the whole time. “Aren’t you going to destroy me?” snapped Carnelian. “No. But you will face trial for the crime of high treason. You will face responsibility for your actions.” Carnelian spat defiance at her hooves. “That’s all I ever did.” With a final spell, Twilight left her sleeping in warm ice. The strain was enough to leave Twilight staggering. The magic had been a last-ditch effort. Only then did she hurry over to Flurry Heart. Or try to. She could only stagger. At once, Twilight forced her horn to splutter and spark, but even if she’d had the strength, she knew from a glance and from the contorted, silently screaming face that the damage was too great. Darkness still clung here and there, poisonous: Flurry Heart’s own poison, turned against her. Spitting and hissing attempts at speech. On automatic, Twilight’s hoof gently cradled Flurry Heart’s struggling head. Both their tears pooled between them. Flurry Heart seemed to see Twilight for the first time. Her suffering spasms became more frantic. “I don’t… understand…” she breathed, lip trembling. “Auntie… I don’t…” Then Flurry Heart’s eyes slid shut, and for the briefest of moments through the pain, Twilight saw it as though it was just another bedtime. The trembling stopped. The air became still. After a while, Twilight gently cradled her niece, touching horn to horn. Just like the old days. The war was over. The blizzard raged on. In the Crystal Kingdom – or the Crystal Empire again, as no one seemed clear what it was now – its citizens got on with their lives once more. Tents went up, stalls were erected, food and balloons filled the streets. The Crystal Faire, an ancient tradition, was nigh. Some crystal ponies set off on a train headed south, carrying crystalline gifts and chests of treasure. True, the extent of the war had been limited and short-lived, but it stung at their national pride, and the crystal ponies wanted to make clear their good intentions. All mind-control helmets had been destroyed, all mines plugged, all chains broken, and all prisoners personally escorted home with sorrow and compensation. A few crystal ponies travelled north, accompanied by the Royal Guard. None returned with good news. Despite the curses lifting at the end of the war, the yaks – and the entire state of Yakyakistan – still hadn’t returned. They made a tradition of checking once a week: the Yearning for the Yaks. At the foot of the Crystal Castle, Flurry Heart’s colossus had almost immediately been toppled and taken to pieces. Spike’s statue was returned to its rightful place. On his other side, however, there now stood a statue of Chancellor Carnelian. When it had been unveiled, the entire Crystal Kingdom had cheered. Hope and love shone out from the kingdom again. Out of the reign of the Crystal Princess, the crystal ponies prospered… Twilight’s friends were coming home. They had heard the news by now. Some – like Rainbow Dash – had been abroad on adventures. Some – like Pinkie Pie – had been in Ponyville, but so tied-up with commitments that their long journey was more mental than physical. And some – like Fluttershy – hadn’t been seen in a long time, only just now emerging from the more mysterious parts of the world. Yet they had all heard the call, as clearly as if the Crystal Map had summoned them. Twilight needed them now, more than ever. At the entrance – or in this case, exit – of Twilight’s castle, Spike held the door open for Ember and Gilda. “Well, that was… interesting,” was all Gilda would commit to. “I’ll say,” said Ember. “Never seen a griffon try to eat walls before.” Gilda shrugged. “I’m down for a ‘first time for everything’… thing. Don’t know how you eat that crystal garbage.” “Eh, you gotta have the stomach for it.” Spike coughed for attention. “Anything more I can do for you ladies?” “Yeah,” said Gilda. “Stop calling us ‘ladies’. Just because I can tolerate uncoolness, doesn’t mean I don’t have limits.” “What she said,” said Ember, somewhat awkwardly. More assertively, she added, “Thanks for having us. The last few months in the Dragon Lands have been…” “Stressful? Troubling? Frantic?” said Spike. “I was going to say ‘annoying’, but whatever.” “Yeah,” said Gilda, more cheerfully. “Tell Twilight she’s done a sweet job. I haven’t felt that at home even at home. It’s nice to not feel like you have to walk on eggshells all the time.” Spike grunted noncommittally. And because even the likes of Gilda and Ember had some sensitivity in their neglected social radars, Gilda nudged Ember, who hesitantly added, “And tell her we… appreciate… her sacrifices, and uh, hope she gets better, and… and stuff.” “Yeah.” “Will do,” said Spike, waving them off as they flew away. In the distance, he swore he heard them bickering over how much more tactfully they could have put it. You and me both, he thought. Grimacing, he slammed the door. Spike found Twilight in the bed chamber. Not her own: it still had a cot in the corner. That was what worried him. She just sat there, in the centre of the room, as though slowly dying from too much past. He even swore he heard faint echoes of childish laughter drift out of the walls. Tactfully, he waited for her to finish. He knew she knew he had come in; the click of his claws alone meant stealth was out of the question. This was a silence he was welcome to share but not to disturb. Not that he wanted to disturb Twilight when she was like this. Funny, really: he remembered running around after Flurry, trying to rein her spells in, and running after Twilight, trying to guide her back on course and not get swept up playing with Whammy the Stuffed Snail, or doing “arts and crafts with crystals” once Flurry Heart’s magic started to tame itself a bit. Yet all the daily grinding annoyances melted into something nobler and more sickly-sweet now. He told himself he was too old for tears. Twilight stirred. “How could I let this happen?” she croaked. Such a Twilight response. Spike sighed; at his size, it sounded like the light breath of a furnace. “You didn’t let it happen,” he said gently. “But I did, I –” “You’d never let this happen, if you’d known. You didn’t destroy Cadence and Shining Armor. You didn’t tell Flurry to bully her servants, or vanish a whole country, or start a war. The Twilight I know would never do that.” “The Flurry I knew wouldn’t either.” Spike knew then what he was dealing with. Gently as he could, he guided his bulk over to her and wrapped a protective wing around her shoulders. She was shaking. “I wish I’d done more,” he rumbled, watching her. You!? He almost heard that word form in the air. He swore he heard her lips unstick to say them. But at the last second, Twilight relented, and he was thankful for that. “I wasn’t meant to be special,” he continued. “I was just one random dragon egg among many. It could have been another dragon’s egg you got. You could have had Ember instead of me, or anyone else. They might have been raised by kind ponies and taught to help out and… and frankly, they could have been treated a bit better here and there –” An apologetic cringe from Twilight: Spike felt it through his blanketing wing. “– but what they grew up into would be their choice. No one else’s. Put as much pony on a dragon as you want, they’re still a dragon underneath. It’s just… they’re their own dragon. It doesn’t even have to be dragons and ponies: there are lots of ways destiny plays out. You were just a regular old unicorn.” “Spike…” whispered Twilight. Carefully, his tail wrapped around her and turned her slightly to face him. “Just tell me you did your best. You know you did. That’s all anypony can ask from you.” As soon as he said it, he realized he’d said the wrong thing. Twilight’s eyes, hitherto sparkling, shut down. Against his loosening tail, she turned away. “I don’t know if I did,” she said. In the silence, the echoes. The laughter of the happiest niece in the world. The laughter of the happiest aunt in the world. All hollow. All died away.