His name was an archaic slur of barely plausible syllables pulled together into one string of sound purely made for him. So he could have an identity. So he could be like the rest of Equestria’s ponies. He was not though, and he knew that he would never be the same. He was born out of power and into a position of endless servitude, but for the longest time he did not mind this, as he was born without a mind. No conscious mind to ponder life with, or his position. He, for the longest time, accepted the fact that he was where he was, and there was no way to change that. So he faced his fate, in the sickeningly low light and stood in obedience to his princess.
But that was a long time ago.
His eyes may be absolute black, for he had no soul to speak of, but it was only that way because he now had a mind. Before, back when he was a servant of Celestia, and the rest of the Equestrian rulers, his eyes had been white. Blank of everything that made a pony a pony. But then his mind came to be, thoughts swirled in his head: contemplation, mathematics, philosophies, theories, speculations, logic, debate and more had filled what used to be empty, and as such his eyes took on a different hue. The opposite side of the spectrum took the place of whiteness, just as the opposite had taken the place of emptiness. True, he did not have a soul, but this was of no consequence to him. He had lived long enough without one, and he had never felt any real need to try and claim one, or to even think about what he was missing. For what he lacked internally, his external form compensated. He was almost the same size as most male ponies, perhaps a bit smaller than the truly large ones, but tall and broad enough to not simply blend in with a crowd. His coat was a dusty grey, his mane was haggard and torn, and his hooves were cracked. He had a white horn, which gave off constant light, but was dim enough to only truly be seen at night, when Luna has decided to hide her prison. As for his cutie mark, he had tried relentlessly over the years to rid himself of it, those accursed golden scales that marked his hide. But even his magic could not undo them, or make them tilt to either side.
But now, through a long, dark, and painful road, he had found himself as far away from Equestria as he could go: the Mist. Only here, at the farthest edge of the Everfree Forest, did he feel like he had escaped his past life. True, he had attempted to settle in other areas of the forest, but either ponies were already present, or there was enough resistance to intrusion, too much for even him, that he was pushed out. Other sections he had regarded, but decided that the risk was too great. During his journey to the far side of the great forest he had found legends and myths to be real. The creatures and monsters designed to scare ponies were either real or based off of actual beasts. The stories told about the times before Equestria, back when ponies were divided and scattered across the face of the world, many had become real to him as well. He knew that he was not indestructible, but it was his prior arrogant attitude that he had nearly killed himself on several occasions when trying to settle where something already lived. He was powerful, yes, and exceptionally skilled when it came to magic, not to mention the fact that what he specialized in varied from time to time without his say in the matter, or that his power fluctuated throughout the day, which was both a disadvantage and a blessing in one.
But here, in the Mist, he had only encountered a few others besides himself. Strange, dark, small beings that clung to branches and trees, merely silhouettes save for the bright, staring eyes. He could not tell what they were, exactly, as they seemed to be a mixture of many different beings he had learned about. Many seemed to be able to fly, or to burrow. Several had long fingers and ears, and were very fast and would slip away in the blink of an eye if you managed to get too close. Others were larger and resembled something brought out of the Void, but they were far too benevolent, not to mention timid, to be related to the Void too much, in at all. During the time he had first encountered these, he had begun to worry about what else could be out here. If other creatures had escaped from their own prisons and come here in the haze for refuge. Shades from Equestria’s neighboring realm possibly, if they somehow found a way to break down the walls of reality and slip in to theirs. But the chances were slim; if the shades were truly around, he would have encountered one by now.
But the thing that he had happened upon was more troubling than anything currently. He felt that he had been brought to it somehow. Whether he had found it through fate, or merely a stroke of bad lucky, it scared him. From the moment he was within five meters of it he could feel it reaching down inside of him, pulling him forward in a sinister, yet friendly way. By the time he could see the Circle, he knew by what means it was created. How, he did not know, and by the chance that it had arrived here was even more troubling to him. The spell had been cast recently enough to track and discern the caster’s purpose. The stallion conjured his own magic, ivory white horn sparkling in the gloom, and brought forth a pair of magical tendrils to prod the Circle, to discover what he longed to know. As soon as his magic had started its way forward toward the target, the pony could feel the immense amount of resistance that was waiting for him. It was almost like a series of veils, each one had to be lifted and put aside before the next one could be seen. His instincts told him that each veil of resistance would be different than the last, and as such his approach would have to be withdrawn and tried again from a different angle. He halted his magic just before reaching the first obstacle and regarded whether this was, in fact, a good idea. If his investigation of the circle and the spell that conjured it was successful, he would be able to see who had enough power, knowledge, and the means to cast the spell in this particular place. On the other hand, if his new interest did hold enough power, his plan to discover could backfire and his location would be known. But this was not the greatest worry he had by far. If he was seen, then Equestria would know that the Mist was hospitable for ponies. After all, the chances that anypony who knew him was still alive, save for the Alicorns, were slim. Word may reach Celestia and her dark sister eventually, but would the word contain who was seen when the identification backfired?
The pony delved inside his mind, thinking over the various possibilities and aftermath. But for all of the reasoning against his actions, he could not move past the fact that there was only a hoof-full of ponies who even knew of his existence. Far less knew of his origin and magical abilities, being as unique as they were. The dusty-grey coat and ragged mane shifted upon him as an unwelcome breeze managed to find its way in off the ocean. The midnight-colored eyes fixed upon the circle, and once again the magic tendrils were summoned forth. The first veil lifted smoothly, quickly followed by the second and third. Upon the fourth the tendrils were repelled twice. The strange magical barrier protecting the circle pulsed a mystical energy, attempting to keep the intruding magic at bay for as long as possible. The tendrils pushed through their invisible adversary and glanced harmlessly upon the fourth and final veil of power. The black eyes narrowed upon this; his horn shimmered. He slunk around the circumference of the circle, testing it. The veil held firm. He stopped, thought, circled again, and reconsidered. There was always the option of destroying it. According to his internal clock he still had control of a great amount of power. So what would prevent him? It was not a question he needed to ask. He was attempting to carefully track the spell back to its caster. Due to the powerful nature of this spell, and the careful operation to tap into it, the slightest mistake would cause reflection on the other end. Time would eventually erase that, and the caster would no longer be connected enough to feel anything. Risks, risks. Was it worth it?
“Yes.” He rasped into the mist. His voice was dry and hollow, much like that of the sound of a breeze working its way through an abandoned, dusty pipe
The veil waited before him, and he before it. His horn flashed. Magic exploded from the Circle where the fourth veil had stood. All that remained was the Circle, and the core of a spell. He had known it from first sight. It was his spell, the greatest spell ever conceived, a magnificent tool locked away by idiotic princesses, 1010.
“Hello again.” He whispered to the Circle. “It seems that no matter how far I am, I must take care of you. Ensure that the balance remains.”
The Circle made no response of any kind.
“After all,” he continued, “we have no choice but to be together, right? Balance and Balancer. So, what have you become now?”
He summoned his magic and cast it upon a nearby tree. The tree withered.
“Sickness.” Balancer shook his head in disapproval. “This was an act of resetting the balance, I am aware by your nature. But to conjure such power for a mere plague? Will they never learn how to really use you?”
The Circle crept forward slightly, beyond the toadstools, which seemed immune to the disease.
“Foolish, aren’t they? To attempt to use you and to believe that they are still in control. Well, you have managed to find your way to me, coming back to the one who stood by your obelisk for all those years. A once soulless shell of a pony, and yet it is me who you come to. Not to the tombs of your creators, for they were also too restraint. But this is not like I have ever seen you before. What are you? What did you make your caster do?”
Balancer focused his energy upon the circle, similar magic powers met and he formed his spell. It was a simple process, to trace a spell back to the caster once you had mastered it. Any mental defenses the caster may have in place, with or without their knowledge, should be lessened/gone since he had destroyed the fourth veil instead of working his way through. Slowly, an image formed. It was a unicorn: small, purple, hard working and had the look of a powerful magician all about her.
“I see you.”
The withered grass collapsed into dust.
Twilight Sparkle had been sleeping, a deep and dreamless sleep spurred on by the use of the 1010 spell. At one point she had managed to awaken and drag herself to her bed. The night cast its own spell of slumber and rest upon the citizens of Equestria, having grown its midnight state. All seemed well. Yet, even for the state of dreamlessness, Twilight was not at ease. Her ever-working mind could feel something working its way in until only her magic and willpower held the intruder back. It was peaceful for a time, then a bright flash of light exploded behind her eyes, scattering her thoughts, filling her very being, causing her to wake in excruciating pain. Twilight screamed as the invading light ripped its way out of her, causing her muscles to endure violent spasm. Her back arched, stars exploded in her eyes, her legs thrashed, and a searing pain shot down her horn. She cringed, screamed again, curled up, and began to weep. It was a silent cascade of tears; the silvery droplets ran silently down her cheeks, her soft whimpering urging them on. But her screams had not gone unheard; Spike was there in a heartbeat.
“Twilight, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He came up to her bedside, nervous but ready.
Twilight didn’t answer. She kept crying, the last of the pain was fading, but it was the initial shock that kept her devastated.
“Twilight?” It was clear that Spike was concerned and very unsure of what to do. He wrung his claws together and looked around anxiously. “I’ll go get some help.”
He started to turn, but the purple unicorn managed to find her voice.
“No,” she gasped weakly at him, “please stay.”
“Ok, I’ll stay. What do you need?”
“I…don’t know.” She shuddered. The tears had slowed, but refused to stop. She needed sleep, but any chance had been driven out for a while by the light. Where had it come from? It had caused her to feel immense pain all over her body, but it had started in her mind. Something had invaded the very recessed of her mind, striking at her very core. Hers was a brilliant mind, no denying, and yet it could not hold back whatever had invaded. Why would somepony want to attack her, much less her mind? She moved a hoof up and wiped away a few of her tears. Spike reached a hand forward, and then withdrew it; unsure of whether it was a good idea.
Silence, pure and exact, had adopted the room. Twilight’s eyes had finally dried, and she felt the first effects of tiredness. Spike was still wide-awake, attentive, and as nervous as to his job from the first moment he had arrived at her side.
“Anything I can get you?” he asked gently. Twilight shook her head. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Twilight sighed and glanced at him through two very hurt eyes. They were still red from the tears.
“There was…this thing, inside my head, while I was sleeping. I knew it was there, but I didn’t, and…oh!” She rolled back over. “I don’t know how to describe it, it just happened.”
“It’s all right, we can talk about it in the morning. Perhaps one of your friends can offer advice, or the princess.”
The princess? Would Celestia know anything about this? Surely she could find some book, or maybe her teacher knew about this and could give some advice. Right now, all she needed was some sleep.
“Maybe. Maybe I just need some sleep.”
“Ok. I’ll be close.” Spike extinguished the light, and there was darkness. Twilight slept the rest of the night relatively undisturbed, save for a strange dream. She was walking next to a pony she had never seen before. He was a dusty-grey and did not seem to notice her; or maybe he just didn’t care. Try as she may, Twilight could not see his face and before long he disappeared into a mist, and she returned to dreamless slumber.
The next morning Twilight rose at an early hour, but was convinced by Spike to sleep in. The night’s events were still very vivid, but were more bearable in the sunlight. Any traces of pain had left her, and her mind was quickly coming back together, resealing the barriers of her mind. Spike cooked her breakfast and brought it to her before she had the chance to get up, insisting that it was better for her to, as he put it, take it slow for a while. No sense in straining herself. But taking a day off was not on her agenda, not entirely anyway. She did want to visit her friends and do some studying. Maybe see if she could send another friendship letter to the princess. Not that it was needed, of course, but something told her it was a good idea to keep busy. Speaking of writing letters, she could talk to the princess about what had happened; some simple advice couldn’t hurt.
The day went rather smoothly, she did decide to take it slowly and try not to stress herself. A headache rose during the afternoon, but subsided quickly enough. It was a gloomy day, with great, grey clouds blotting out the sun. Perhaps it would rain; some rain would be nice. Twilight managed to talk with Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy, as she began to loose track of time during their conversations, and knew she had business to take care of back home at the library. Studying, reading, writing, the works…it was what she truly loved.
It was late by the time she returned to her library. Spike, having been wide-awake from recent events, was already sound asleep. She moved nearly soundlessly, and carefully in the dark. Several times she thanked her photographic memory, as she was able to move blindly through the library’s rooms with grace. Every detail was noted in her mind, down to the couple of pencils that had fallen off just before she had left. Twilight worked her way up to her private study, listened to ensure that Spike was still asleep, unlocked the door, and entered. Quite a few candles that circled the inner walls illuminated the room. Twilight blinked, she hadn’t remembered that she had lit those candles the previous night. Then again…can’t be expected to remember everything from that night. She sighed and moved over to one of the bookshelves on the right side of the room and began scanning it. Her magic scanned with her, removing books that she was interested in, and placing them in a stack behind her. She took a quick glance with her eyes to see how high her stack was getting, turned back, and then snapped back around. The 1010 scroll was rolled up at the top of her desk. She knew that she definitely hadn’t rolled it after its last use. Perhaps Spike had…but he never came in here without specific permission. So…how? She shook her head and closed her eyes. She must have rolled it up. She tried moved over to another bookshelf and continued her scanning, but the scroll kept just within her peripherals. Try as she may to ignore it, she found that she could not.
Hello.
Twilight’s blood turned to ice. She very fluidly turned herself around to find exactly what she expected: nothing. Very slowly she turned back around to the bookshelf, gazing at it, but looking as far as she could to the side, waiting. There was silence. Eventually, it was the pony who spoke.
“Who are you?” she whispered without turning.
Nothing.
“Please.” She pressed.
The sounds of silence smiled back at her.
“What do you want?” This time she did turn, just her head.
Hello.
“Where are you?” Twilight managed to turn and face the emptiness.
Hello.
“Hello?”
Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello.
The voice continued to greet her, coming from every different angle surrounding her. There was laughter behind the words, not friendly nor cruel. The voice grew louder and closer, she sunk and covered her head with her front hooves. Why was this happening to her? It grew louder, the voice, the laughter, the pressure.
“Stop it!” she yelled. The voice and laughter immediately ceased. She was alone. Her books stood as they had been, neatly stacked. No papers were disturbed, the door was closed and all was well. She gently opened the door and peeked out. Nothing. Looks like Spike was still asleep. She shook her head and pulled the door closed again. Twilight looked back at her desk. 1010 lay on top of it, rolled up. The unicorn moved over to it. It was fine. There was a mild charge in the air around it, but this was to be expected. She had had the same revelation many times before with other spells; nothing to be too concerned about. Unless…tapped the scroll with a hoof. Nothing.
“Has to be.” She mused aloud. “It was because I used you that I was hurt, wasn’t it?”
She nodded gravely, and turned away. If these were the after effects of using the spell, then it was no doubt that it was time to give it up and return it to the House of Four Doors. Getting past Celestia would be a bit of a trick, but the fact that she was completely trusted and every guard in the city knew here did help. Twilight just needed to be sure that nopony else discovered the spell in Ponyville and used it without knowing what it was. She turned to her pile of books, and began to skim the titles; trying to decide which one she would read first. As perused the various subjects, she slowly became aware of the fact that the fur on the back of her neck had begun to stand upright. After one or two attempts to pat it down, it was clear that it was did not want to lay flat. Twilight stood motionless for a second, testing the air around her. Sure enough, there was a charge all about her, most likely from that spell. The sooner she got rid of it, the better. The charge grew.
I see you.
The charge fell away immediately. Twilight did not bother to be careful or cautious. She turned as she would if regarding a friend, to find the exact scenario that fit her expectations: nothing. The only thing that bothered the unicorn was that the voice had never been accompanied by a charge before. The voice had come and gone at its leisure, with no warning such as this. But it was the same thought that continuously coursed through her mind: the spell could make anything happen, so what does it matter if something different. It was likely that the first voice was the effects of using the spell, or even being around it. So what did it matter if something slightly new happened? Then again... and idea struck her. The voice did have some degree of intellect, as it had almost bartered with her in the matter of the Circle. It really did want her to use it to make a Circle, whatever that was, and did respond to her at that moment. What would happen if she spoke first, instead of waiting for it to initiate another useless conversation? What would happen if she told it that it would go back to being imprisoned again?
“I’m sorry to inform you,” the unicorn said aloud, still focusing upon her books, “that you will be leaving shortly. I am tired of you, and you have hurt me. So I will be returning you to your obelisk.”
There was nothing, and then the voice reappeared.
We’ll see about that.
The response had been naught more than a whisper, right behind her ear. It was the first time the voice had a truly malicious tone to it. Twilight glanced over at the scroll and narrowed her eyes. We will see indeed.
Vareen had been recruited for the purpose, and behind his lead several other disreputable ponies had been drawn in. Ras was beginning to feel good. What made things all the sweeter was that everything was happening right under Celestia’s pretty, white nose. More than that was the unexpected pleasure of having everypony happy with the choice of Vareen as leader of the rebellion. Ras, while being taken aback by this sudden agreement, could not have asked for better. Vareen leads the troops, while he undermines the operation. Canterlot will fall, Vareen will be disposed off in some manner, probably Flailer’s doing, and then the throne of Equestria would be free for the taking. He did not have a wicked smile, but it was his grin that could send several consecutive chills down a pony’s spine. He usually hid his grin for ideal opportunities, such as the time where he would reveal to his loyal associates what had really been happening. That time was still far into the future, but it would come.
“Hey, Ras?” a voice came from behind him. He turned to see Flailer, sitting with a concerned look adorned.
“Yes?” he was irked by the intrusion, but solitude was not a luxury that he needed currently.
“I was just wondering, you know…” Flailer mumbled.
“Speak up.”
“What is our plan?” Flailer stated tactlessly.
“Flailer, why do you want to know?” Ras turned his back to his associate.
“I don’t understand what we are doing.” He stopped, then quickly continued to speak as if redeeming himself. “So I can be of more help.”
Ras onyx eyes shifted as he turned his head slightly, just enough to fix his gaze upon the earth pony. His horn shimmered but subsided.
“Flailer, I can’t have my plan leaking out to the others. Can I trust you?”
“Yeah.”
“I know I can. You know what will happen if you start talking, right?”
Flailer looked down at the ground and traced a lanky hoof around on the ground as if he was a young colt who had been caught doing something wrong.
“You’ll kill me.” he said sheepishly.
“In a really terrible way.” Ras confirmed. He turned to face his partner. The tall, skinny, earth pony looked up with sad eyes. “Believe me, my friend, you don’t want that to happen. So can I trust you not to tell Vareen and the others?”
“Yeah.” Flailer replied softly.
Ras smiled, he had considered telling Flailer out of his own accord, but he needed the latter to step up and think for himself if this was to work out. He needed at least one other to know at least some of his intentions, just so that those who must follow blindly would have another pony to look confirm when things didn’t make sense. Flailer was his insurance and the closest thing he had ever had to a friend.
“My plan is simple in theory, but in reality it will take careful planning and timing in order to pull it off. As you may remember me mentioning, I see no reason to make a revolution bloody. We want to overtake Equestria, and when all is said and done we want there to be ponies still living here. Without a population, the entire feat is pointless. So we must be quiet about what is happening so the eyes and ears of Canterlot won’t know what is happening until it is too late.” He paused to watch the other; he seemed to be keeping up. “We start by gathering followers here. When we have enough ponies, we strike silently. This will require knowing the identities of the ponies who report back to the princess, the royal guard, ect. We need to know who needs to be silenced first so no word gets out and everything seems to be going smoothly. We eventually force the ponies running this city to submit, and as long as they are quiet and follow orders, they will remain alive. Once we are in control of the city, we will begin plans to convert the population into our army. Many are still angry at the alicorns, but do not know of our crusade as of yet. Those who do not want to join will have a choice: join or be an example. It shouldn’t take more than a few brutally killed ponies to get the point across. As we amass a larger following for our cause, we will spread our members out to various cities, as far away from Canterlot as possible, and have them take over those cities in the same fashion. Then we sneak closer to Canterlot, silently snatching up every city, town, and province that is along the way. This is how we are going to take Equestria for ourselves and remove the royalty from their power.”
Flailer put a hoof to his chin and processed what he had just heard. Ras watched him, silently guessing what questions were about to follow.
“But…” Flailer stuttered, still gathering his thoughts “how will we get the throne when we do what you just said? Won’t Vareen get it because he’s in charge?”
“Good, you’re thinking. This is how we get to Canterlot, and how we overwhelm Celestia and her Dark Sister. At the point when Celestia has surrendered and everypony thinks that the rebellion is done, we will let things settle for a bit. Then, when Vareen is sitting upon the throne, ripe for attack, we will arrange for some sort of accident to occur. Whether a group of soldiers got loose and killed Vareen, or the Everfree decided to unleash something horrific, or just a lone assassin in the dark; something will cause Vareen to fall. I must gain his trust to the point where he puts me in charge just below his lofty position. Then nopony will object when I take the throne. If this doesn’t work out, however, I will just have to deal with anypony who disagrees with my ascension accordingly. I assume you would help me should this come to be?”
“You know I will.” The lanky pony nodded.
Ras walked past Flailer to study the city through the doorway through which Flailer had entered. It was a dirty, bleak city. Ras’ mane and coat reflected it accordingly.
“Ras?” Flailer came close to his master.
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking.” Ras turned his back to the city and began to stroll back into the gloom filling the room.
“No, I had a question.”
“My apologies go ahead.”
“Whose Balancer? You seemed nervous when you asked about him.”
“I don’t know. But when I was not more than a young colt living in Canterlot I heard Celestia mention him once or twice, seemed to be somepony of importance. Then when I was…left Canterlot I heard of him again from ponies who would never have an audience with the Princess, much less her pupils or teachers. Chances are it’s not the same pony, but who knows. If the pony who is known to cause trouble in operations such as this one is dead, then that is all we need to care about.”
Flailer sat on his hind legs and thought. Ras reminisced of his former life.
“How did you know the Princess?” Flailer put to the onyx pony.
“I was a student at her academy. It was my home, and I couldn’t have been happier.” His eyes glazed over as the memories rushed back to him. “I used to live in one of the southern towers with several other students. We were all good friends. There was Coral Sea, a greenish-blue pegasus pony with a dark blue mane.. Now there was a pony who could fly. Oh, and there was Abstract, which was just a nickname, but he was destined to be a painter. I did tell you I grew up in Canterlot, right?”
“You did.” Flailer confirmed. “Did Celestia ever teach you?”
“Hardly ever. She had her own pupil, some unicorn prodigy or whatever. Didn’t matter to us though, we had the best teacher: Annequine. Every colt in the class loved her.”
Ras trailed off, as the glaze of happiness left him and his attention turned back to the cold darkness that surrounded him. Flailer took note of what was happening and quickly left, hoping to avoid the wrath that would come. Ras did not share his past with anypony, much less a pony as mentally incompetent as him.
Vareen had successfully secured the shady street where he lived. Every structure nearby had been converted to the purpose. The ponies under his employ were sweeping the streets, recruiting or disregarding. Rooms began to fill, numbers rose, and the turn of the tide could be felt. The hazy sky above Manehattan shrouded their actions from any watchful eyes above, and the hoofsteps of those desperately loyal to the failing princess were watched and retraced. Those who presented problems began to disappear, key members of the city’s security factor took unexplained vacations or quit, yet the general tone of the city never wavered. The city’s press and media outlets had been among the first to be overwhelmed. The editors, writers, and photographers were given other jobs or opportunities. The reaction was to be expected; they were the ones printing the miseries that Equestria was going through. So who would become suspicious if another couple of things went wrong? Far away, of course. Anyone who received news from the post would see the same thing they would be expecting.
This was not the first city Vareen had taken over, but it was the largest. Even Ras had to admit, the Pegasus knew his craft, and had no qualms about doing nearly whatever it took to complete whatever mission he was on. The brain-dead ponies who waited outside his personal quarters had been scattered for the most part all about the city. Apt at guarding, apt at sabotage, apt at fixing problems, and without a will, much less a mind, of their own was the perfect combination for a pony set on personal gain like Vareen. Other ponies of reputation had been recruited as leaders, yet none went against the white pony and his horde for his grand position.
“There you go, hope you are comfortable.” She whispered to the scroll as the ties of one of her saddlebags were secured. She closed her eyes and her horn began to glow. The bag became illuminated in a purple aura. The aura subsided and the bag shimmered. She smiled, it had taken a lot of work to make that spell. Just a few months ago Princess Celestia had helped her to craft a spell that would provide a barrier that could only be breached by those who had her absolute trust.
She levitated the bag and placed it upon her desk within the main room of the library.
“Spike! I’m going out for a bit!” she called up to the dragon who was busy organizing and reshelving her books. His hand appeared, waved, and disappeared again. “Rainbow is coming over in just a few minutes to pick up something I found for her, give it to her when she comes please!”
Then she was gone. Spike looked up in bewilderment, rolled his eyes, and assumed he would find whatever it was during his chore.
The library was an absolute mess. Twilight, for all of her organization, had never truly learned to put her books back on the shelves after she was done with them. It was the same with her personal belongings, often scattered about the library or their room. It drove Spike to the brink, but something told him that he sort of liked it. He was her number one assistant, and it felt good to be doing something. He worked his way down through the library, sorting as he went. As he passed by the walls of the main room, he managed to knock a saddlebag over.
“Dang.” He muttered as he picked up the fallen contents. There were a fair number of books and a note addressed to Rainbow Dash. “Hmm…Dear Rainbow, I found you some copies of the first of the Daring Doo series so you can start your own collection. Oh, that’s what she was talking about.”
He scooped up the fallen contents back into the bag and set it on Twilight’s desk. Not two minutes later the blue Pegasus herself came speeding in through the door.
“Hi Spike!” she greeted the dragon warmly.
“Hey Rainbow. I assume you’re hear for the gift?”
“I guess so. Twilight just said that she had something for me. Is she here?”
“You just missed her, but I happen to know that she gave you some books.”
“I can’t believe I used to believe that reading was for eggheads.” Rainbow laughed. “Where are they?”
“Oh, they are in the saddlebag there on the desk.”
“Thanks Spike, tell Twilight thanks for me next time you see her.”
“Will do.”
Spike turned to pick up a fallen book as Rainbow whisked over to the desk, but hesitated.
“Which bag?” Rainbow asked over her shoulder, looking from one bag to the other.
“Huh?” Spike called back.
“There’s two here.”
“I think they’re both for you. You know how Twilight is about books.”
“Heh, yeah. See ya.”
Rainbow left the library, Twilight’s saddlebags on either side of her as she took off in direction of her cloud home. In one bag an assortment of books Twilight knew her athletic friend enjoys, in the other a deadly error in judgment waited. The sun shone.