//------------------------------// // 1. Heavy Hangs the Head with the Crown // Story: The Princess of Redemption // by Cassette //------------------------------// The wind blew harshly around the royal statuary garden, whisking brown and yellow leaves to-and-fro in miniature whirlwinds about the damp ground.  It was only a few weeks since the running of the leaves, and the evidence of that was scattered all over the lawns and pathways, clumped up in ramshackle piles under privet hedges, in the shadow of the statues, or anywhere else they could find reprieve from the harsh wind.  The sky was a moody grey; not quite yet raining but making no empty threat of it either.  Princess Twilight Sparkle faintly mused that she really should send a couple of the royal groundsponies in the garden’s direction armed with rakes as she lightly nudged a small clump from the path in front of her.  She trotted along further, her hoofsteps creating the familiar clip-clop noise on the flagstones that was audible even over the rushing breeze.  Behind her, there came a second, much more padded and difficult to detect sound of a creature following behind; her royal guard, obligated to accompany her wherever she went whilst in Canterlot and often beyond.  The princess threw a glance over her shoulder.  Gallus was some ten feet behind her, in full Canterlot military regalia.  His armor was polished to a high shine, so much so that it was practically a mirror, and in one clawed hand he carried a shield bearing the royal crest, in the other a spear, its shining tip pointed skyward.  Twilight noticed that he did not allow the shaft of the spear to touch the ground, nor the heavy wood and steel shield to fall slackly by his side.  Whether this was because of his seemingly endless respect for the tools of the crown entrusted to him or simply his determination to embody the ‘seen and not heard’ virtue that royal guards are known for she wasn’t sure.  She paused in her late afternoon constitutional to face him properly.  “Thank you so much for accompanying me on my walk Gallus.” She smiled, knowing full well that he’d had no choice in the matter.  If the griffon in any way had any qualms about being out in the cold, he made no sign of it, or of any other emotion for that matter.  Gallus was a griffon that took his job very, very seriously.  Twilight remembered the ‘too cool for friendship school’ young creature that she had met when she first threw open the doors of her institution, and there were few similarities with the griffon that she regarded now.  Gone were his sarcasm, snide glances and huffy body language, replaced with pure stoicism.  His body had changed too, as years of physical fitness, not to mention guard training and boot camp had caused him to bulk up considerably.  Even though his armor, Twilight could see his biceps bulging as they strained against the weight of his equipment.  His feathery blue coat was still the same of course, though now it was punctuated by specks of grey, particularly around his jaw, giving the impression he was sporting a beard.  Quite distinguished, Twilight thought, not that she was much of a judge of such things.  By way of a reply, he merely gave a low, slow nod, his feathered helm momentarily tipping towards her.  Then his eyes returned to their seemingly glazed dead-ahead gaze; looking at nothing but observing everything.  He paused in his trailing of her, maintaining a professional distance between them.  Twilight turned her head and proceeded on her walk with a small chuckle.  This boy was good.  Twilight continued down the path, the cold air whipping at her coat, forcing her to suppress a shiver.  She allowed her gaze to trace over the various statues she passed by, almost feeling guilty that she wasn’t treating each one with the reverence it truly deserved.  She passed by Mistmane, Sonabula, Rockhoof, et all the pillars.  She gave the Starswirl carving the tiniest of nods as she passed, a superstitious acknowledgement of his impact on her life.  She pressed on, knowing exactly where she was headed, both eager to get it over with and dreading it in equal measure.  She passed by Celestia, Luna and herself (with a minute eyeroll).  The face on her statue had been so bad they’d had to place a book in front of it.  Not that that wasn’t accurate.    Then she arrived at her destination, Gallus, as ever, close behind.  This was a circular section of the grounds, surrounded by tall hedges, divided at various points by yet more pathways that led off to other sections of the garden.  In the center of the lawn there stood the largest statue they’d passed by yet.  It dominated this portion of the garden, and Twilight had had it moved here especially, in an attempt to keep it away from prying eyes.  True, there were undoubtedly places where it could be more out of sight – the rarely used castle dungeons leapt readily to mind – but somehow the princess couldn’t bring herself to do that, not to this statue.  Because that was the thing.  It wasn’t a statue.  Not really.  “Hello again.” Twilight murmured to the petrified forms of Tirek, Chrysalis and Cozy Glow.  Naturally, her greeting was not reciprocated, as they remained frozen in the poses that they struck the day they were turned to stone, Tirek cowering, Cozy Glow in wide eyed jaw dropped horror, and Chrysalis lunging forward in attack, ever defiant.  Twilight made an effort to visit every month or so, and also scheduled regular cleanings for the three, but it did little to alleviate her guilt.  She was painfully aware of something Discord had once said to her: ‘Just because I’m made of stone doesn’t mean I can’t hear every word Celestia says...’  She gazed up at them in silence for the longest time, her eyes tracing every line, every shadow, somehow wordlessly begging, pleading with them to recognize that in some way she was just as much a prisoner of this as they were.  She snorted humorlessly.  She highly doubted they’d see it that way.  If the shoe were on the other hoof, she sure as heck wouldn’t.  Gallus took in the scene, his ruler once again eyeballing the statue of the three villains.  The mean three, some of the guards called them, in hushed tones in out of the way places such as the armory or mess hall.  Whilst Gallus didn’t disagree per-se, it scarcely did justice to the scope of their evil.  He wondered why his princess tortured herself so, and often wished he could ease her burden.  But that was a thought unbecoming of a royal guard.  His job was just that, to guard the princess, to protect her from harm and to obey her commands, nothing more.  To ask her how she was feeling, or if there was anything he could do to help?  That would surely amount to speaking out of turn, punishable by disciplinary action.  Still though...  He had long since stopped mentally preparing himself for what he’d do if, for whatever reason, the petrification spell were suddenly to fail and the three were somehow back and thirsty for royal blood.  Rush forward, interpose himself between Twilight and the three, bark an order at the princess to get to safety (for immediately life threatening situations was one of the few occurrences by where guards were permitted to issue commands to their monarch) and hold them off while Twilight made good her escape, at the cost of his own life if necessary.  The thought meant little to him; he knew what he’d signed up for when he took the job and wouldn’t trade the sense of pride he got from it for anything, certainly not his own personal safety.  Though now he’d run the scenario through his mind umpteen times, he began to wonder if there wasn’t some other kind of attack going on here, one that he couldn’t see, much less protect his princess from.  One that was slowly but surely eroding her mental health.  The thought brought a chill to his bones, but even if it were true, what could he do about it?  Tell her to stop doing this to herself?  That she’d been right to turn them to stone?  Tell her that she should deposit the wretched trio in Tartarus and to never give them a second thought?  No. No, it wasn’t his place.  The best thing he could do would be to be what he was; a guard.  If she were to ever ask him though...  “Do you think I made the right call here, Gallus?” The princess’ words sliced through his thoughts like a razor.  “With them, I mean.”  A panicked look passed over Gallus’ features.  He wasn’t used to being asked such a direct question by the princess.  Fortunately, Twilight’s attention was still focused on the statue.  He quickly regained his composure, even as his mind raced for an adequate reply.  For several agonizing seconds the only sound was the rushing of the wind and the faint, almost imperceptible pitter-patter of the first few drops of rain.  Gallus knew he’d waited too long when Twilight turned her head over her shoulder, looking at him directly, her eyes pained and pleading.  “With respect, your Majesty,” He began, his voice low, “it is not the place of a lowly palace guard to question the decisions of his ruler.”  Twilight’s eyes closed, and she allowed her head to hang slightly.  Gallus too closed his eyes, though more out of frustration than sorrow.  That wasn’t what she needed to hear right now.  He blinked his eyes back open and shot a look that could kill at the frozen reprobates.  How committed to friendship could a creature have to be to feel any pity whatsoever for these three?  How inherently good could one pony be to allow their much-deserved fate to eat her up inside?  He sighed silently.  He supposed that that was why she was friendship incarnate, not to mention ruler of Equestria, and he was not.  Then something strange happened.  Some of the youthful defiance he’d once had, a healthy disregard for the rules reared back up inside of him as he broke protocol.  He quietly strode forward to her, closing the gap between them until he was at a comfortable conversation distance.  As though she were a friend.  A friend who needed to hear a comforting word or two.  As stealthy as he was, he could only muffle the clanking of his armor and equipment so much, and Twilight looked up, the sorrow in her face replaced with intrigue.  Come on.  Give her something.  “However, I will say this Ma’am,” He said, looking her earnestly in the eye, “I strongly doubt that there is a stallion, mare or foal in all of Equestria that thinks that you made the ‘wrong’ call.”  Twilight looked stunned for a moment, but only a moment.  Then a thin smile spread across her face.  Gallus didn’t show it, but his chest swelled with pride that he’d managed to alleviate her worry, even if only temporarily.    “Thank you, Gallus,” The princess spoke softly.  “Sometimes I wonder...”  “Think nothing of it, Ma’am.”   The rain began to pick up the pace, even as Twilight held out a large purple wing to gauge the frequency.  She tutted lightly.  Gallus made no move, waiting patiently for instructions from his princess.  “Perhaps we’d better head back,” she said finally.  “Funny, I don’t remember there being a shower scheduled today.”  “As you wish, ma’am,” Gallus replied, stepping to one side, and raising his spear to attention.  Twilight stared at him for a second.  “You know, you don’t have to be quite so...formal around me Gallus.”  She said with a smile.  “Ma’am?”  “After all, we’re old friends.  I’ve known you since I was your old headmare.”  Gallus once again felt his chest swell.  This time he fancied that his chest feathers ruffled out, and he thanked Celestia for his breastplate.  “It is...” he began, adjectives temporarily failing him, “...extremely kind of you to say so Ma’am.  I look back upon my times at your school of friendship as some of the happiest of my life.”  Twilight stared at him, her lips parting ever so slightly in surprise.  She hadn’t expected such vulnerability from such a seemingly battle-hardened griffon.  “I only hope that through loyal service that I can in some small way repay you for your gift.”  Twilight smiled.  There was that rigid formality again.  It had been hardwired into him, and she had a pretty good idea by who.  “Walk beside me on the way back, will you please Gallus?” She said, trotting past him.  “Friends walk together, not following behind at a distance.”  A twinge of ice ran through the griffon’s blood.  Protecting his regent was one thing, but being friends?  Holding an actual conversation?  As though they were equals?  That made him balk.  “A...as you wish, Ma’am.” He stumbled over his words, before awkwardly striding up beside her.  His mind searched frantically for something to say but came up empty.  Fortunately, she put him out of his misery by speaking first.  “It was my brother who trained you in the guards, wasn’t it?” She said, a sly smile playing about her face.  Gallus glanced in her direction and caught her look.  It wasn’t really a question, though something told him that his demeanor had already given him away as a Shining Armor protégé, as though she didn’t know it already.  For the first time in their excursion, he cracked a smile of his own.  “Indeed, ma’am,” He replied, beginning to feel more at ease.  “I had the honor of training and graduating under his Lordship’s tutelage.  As a matter of fact, it was he whom recommended me for this position.”  “Really?” Twilight feigned surprise.  “Very impressive.  He wouldn’t have chosen just any-creature for this job; he must have seen something outstanding in you.”  Gallus lost a short battle with a goofy grin.  “I couldn’t possibly comment, Ma’am.” he said, momentarily looking away.  “Though I will say this,” he continued, “his Lordship did communicate to me in no uncertain terms both the national and personal importance of this role.”  “I bet he did.” Twilight replied dryly.  That sounded like her brother.  She dreaded to think about the intensity of that particular conversation.  No wonder Gallus couldn’t be stiffer if he’d had a broom handle inserted up the back of his armor.  “Indeed so, ma’am,” Gallus continued, seemingly oblivious to Twilight’s faint exasperation.  “It was a difficult learning experience under his Lordship, but one that I cherish.  Now, every time I put on this plate and pick us this shield and spear, I strive to live up to his shining example.”  A second passed, and Gallus’ eyes widened slightly at his unintentional wordplay.  “If you’ll, uh, pardon the pun, ma’am.”  Twilight giggled, raising a hoof to her mouth as she did so, in a royal manner.  The walk back to Canterlot castle was an uneventful, if sodden affair.  Twilight tried her best to shield herself from the incoming torrent with an outspread wing, with limited success.  By the end Gallus was trying to find some modicum of shelter under his shield, with equally ineffective results.  Nevertheless, their walk back together had been a pleasant one; Gallus seemed to be finally loosening up.  Twilight would have been lying if she said he made conversation as effortlessly as one of her old Ponyville friends, but he undoubtedly seemed more at ease than when the walk started.  They’d talked about the time at the friendship school, traded a couple of ‘remember when’ stories back and forth and Gallus had even admitted to a misdemeanor or two from his old school days.  It made her feel a lot better after her self-imposed bi-monthly guilt trip.  She frowned as the memory of why she’d insisted on going out in the first place bubbled back to the surface.  By the time the dark silhouette of the east wing of Canterlot castle was upon them, they were both soaked to the skin.  The tall spires cut angular jet-black shapes into the dark blue sky, and a distant cloud was briefly illuminated white by a flash of lightning, followed several seconds later by a low rumble of thunder.  They approached the drawbridge, and Gallus stepped forward, lifted his spear a few inches, and brought the shaft down hard, striking the cobblestones with a loud clack.  Somewhere on top of the battlements they saw a head, bedecked in the same helmet the griffon was wearing, look over the edge and then disappear.  A few moments later, the portcullis began to ascend, accompanied by a loud rhythmic clacking.  As it rose, Twilight turned her head towards her companion.  “Thank you once again for coming with me,” She smiled.  “I know it isn’t the most exciting assignment following me around the gardens.”  “Not at all, Ma’am,” Gallus replied, his eyes fixed on the gradually retracting portcullis.  “It was a most enjoyable time.  I mean that with all sincerity.”  Twilight’s smile broadened.   “Though to tell you the truth, I will be glad to get back inside,” He continued.  “This isn’t the kind of weather one wants to be carrying this around in.”  He gestured to his metal tipped spear.  Twilight simply stared.  Gallus allowed his comment to hang in the damp air for a moment before he threw the princess a sideways glance along with a wry smile.  His look caused her to erupt into riotous laugher, and not the understated, practiced, Canterlot titter either, full-on guffaws.  Seeing his princess like this proved to be too much for Gallus, and he too descended into a deep belly laugh.  “Oh goodness” Twilight choked through the laughter, “It’s a horrible thought, but...”  She trailed off as the mirth once again took hold.  “I’d be,” Gallus spluttered, laughing more at Twilights’ laughing than his own joke, “I’d be deep fried griffon!”  Their laughter echoed around the battlements as the portcullis locked into place.  ************************************** Twilight stepped out of the en-suite and into the royal bedchamber, levitating a towel to her mane as she did so.  Her room was meticulously tidy, something that Twilight would admit was much easier to maintain now that she had her own personal maid.  A four-poster bed with silk sheets that looked as though they’d been ironed onto the mattress dominated the room, complete with semi-opaque drapes held in place with purple cords.  At the foot of the bed she kept a large oak keepsake chest, the dark wood so highly polished one could see their reflection in it.  Opposite that, there was a modest (for Twilight) bookcase, a place where she kept her currently ‘active’ books, tomes that were too important to be left in the library, volumes that were of sentimental value for one reason or another, or texts that she needed to refer to too often to warrant keeping them far from hoof.  The books were arranged in no particular order, a fact that mildly irked Twilight from time to time, but as the shelf was constantly shifting in its contents she’d long since given up trying to maintain any kind of catalogue.  Besides, despite there being no system in place, she knew exactly where each book was.    Her mane having been dried as much as the fluffy towel would allow, she stretched out her wings and magically dragged it across her feathers, pulling as much water as she could from them, before carelessly tossing it on the corner of the foot of her bed.  She strode across the room and took a seat at the stool of her dressing table.  As she used a ping from her horn to illuminate the inset gems around the edge of the mirror, she saw her own disheveled reflection staring back at her.  With a tiny ‘hmph’ she levitated her hairbrush and began to attack the tangled mess that was her mane.  The dresser was the one part of the room where everything wasn’t cleared away – the surface of the table was littered with perfume bottles, mane products, brushes, a pair of tweezers, a hoof file, a pair of eyelash curlers – anything a hardworking princess could possibly need.  That was what Rarity had said when she gifted Twilight most of the products, anyway.  Twilight had never really been a pony that cared that much about her appearance, though now that she had been the ruler of Equestria for several years, she had to admit, now that mandatory public appearances could arrive at the drop of a hat, it certainly paid to have the best beauty products bits could buy.  Around the edge of the mirror, Twilight had pasted numerous photographs of her closest friends.  There was Applejack and Rainbow Dash running the leaves, Fluttershy tending to her sanctuary whilst discord loafed around in the background, Starlight Glimmer in her headmare outfit, a magazine cutout with accompanying article of Rarity accepting Manehatten’s coveted ‘Pony to Watch’ award, a picture of Pinkie and her family at the rock farm last Harth’s Warming, and a baby picture of Spike.  There were more, of course, too many to mention, she was the Princess of Friendship after all, and they were threatening to obscure the mirror in its entirety.  Perhaps she should invest in a photo-album, she mused as she tugged at a particularly stubborn strand of purple hair.  As she brushed and her mind wandered, and the rain beat with increasing intensity against the pane of her window directly behind her, she heard a light knock at her bedroom door.  She glanced over, the door right next to the entrance to her bathroom and beheld a foggy silhouette through the frosted glass.  Though she couldn’t make out any of the features clearly, she could tell one thing; whoever it was, they were standing on their hind legs.  The princess smiled.  Spike.  “Come in,” Twilight called, returning her attention to her mane.  The door flung open and Spike stepped into the room.  He paused to gently close it behind him, before he closed the distance between himself and the bed in two strides before perching himself on Twilight’s trunk and letting out a sigh of exhaustion.  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and supported his head in his hands.  Twilight glanced over her withers at him.  He’d certainly grown up in the last few moons, blossoming into a full-fledged adult dragon.  He was barrel chested, clearly defined pectorals and abs visible underneath his shimmering purple scales.  His legs too had become more muscular; though they weren’t often visible due to the fact that the young dragon had taken to wearing pants.  For reasons of self-consciousness, Twilight supposed, though they were his only extravagance, the rest of him was just as naked as he’s always been when he was a child.  His feet had lengthened and broadened and so too the claws that protruded from each toe; inches long and razor sharp and currently worrying Twilight’s carpet.  His green spines had lengthened, and now curved backwards away from his skull, possibly due to his tendency to sweep them back with one hand when he was embarrassed, or pleased with himself.  His tail had followed suit with the rest of his body, now engorged and muscular, presently draped limply across his thighs.  His wings were perhaps the part of him that had changed the least; they still seemed impossibly small for his body, how he was able to stay airborne was a mystery to the princess.  “How was the changeling Kingdom?” Twilight enquired, spinning around in her chair.  “You were gone longer than I thought you’d be.”  “Tiring.” Spike sighed.  “I had some issues to iron out between the Kingdom and the Dragon lands.  I can give you a full oral report if you want.”  “Go on.”  Spike massaged his temples as he thought.  “A group of Changeling youths infiltrated the Dragon lands and were playing at being dragons for a week or two.” He grumbled.  “They got caught when the activities turned to lava diving.”  “Goodness!” Twilight exclaimed.  “No creature was hurt, were they?”  “No,” Spike waved a hand in the air as though to ward off unpleasant imagery.  “Fortunately, they weren’t stupid enough to actually try it for themselves.”  Twilight untensed in relief.  “But, when they refused, the jig was pretty much up.  They got found out, and suddenly the whole thing looks like a case of espionage.”  Twilight nodded grimly.  She could see how it might look like that.  “Of course, Dragonlord Ember saw what it was from the very beginning; a bunch of kids who think that being a dragon is the coolest thing in the world.”  “For some reason,” he added. “But of course, there was a vocal dragon minority that was convinced that this was an act of war, blah blah blah, and suddenly I have to step in to liaise with Ember and Thorax, investigate the younglings, set up meetings, find a solution that satisfies both parties and ensure that an appropriate punishment is metered out.”  He finished, allowing his palms to slip over his eyes.  “I see,” Twilight smiled.  “And what punishment did you settle on?”  Spike looked up from his claws.  “Grounding.”  “Classic.” Twilight’s smile broadened.  “And you’re definitely sure that’s all it was?  Little Changelings wanting to play at being dragons?”  “Ohhhh yeah,” Spike drawled, leaning back against Twilight’s bed.  “I conducted interviews with all the kids.  Let’s just say I was left with no doubt in my mind that they’re really, really into dragons.”  “I see,” Twilight suppressed a giggle.  Spike allowed his back to arch over the back of Twilight’s hoofboard until his head rested on her quilt and he found himself staring at roof of her bed.  Finding it far from comfortable, he hoisted himself back into a sitting position.  “And then of course I had the flight home in this weather, and I’m exhausted.”  “Well, that’s a shame,” Twilight sighed, setting her mane brush on her dresser and levitating a parchment scroll from a drawer.  “I was going to ask you to take another job in Yakyakistan.”  Spike’s face crumpled like a paper bag filled with paper bags.  There was no way he was flying all the way to the mountainous tundra that was Yakyakistan anytime soon.  He’d earned a little break, darn it.  Besides, there was nothing there besides surly Yaks, vicious arctic beasts, and...oh.  Oh, hold on.  “Yakyakistan?” He repeated, looking up.  “Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll get somepony else to...”  “Love to.” Spike cut his adoptive sister off, standing and plucking the scroll from her magic.  Twilight looked up at him as he unfurled the paper.  In her sitting position he towered above her, and she got a view of his enthusiastic expression.  Why was he suddenly so keen to go to Yakyakistan when a second ago he looked like he was about to fall asleep right in her bed?  She knew he took pride in his work, but there was something else going on here.  What could there possibly be up in the mountains of interest to the young dragon?  There was only Yaks and...oh.  Of course.  “Zoning dispute, huh?” Spike murmured, scanning the scant details on the page.  “Twilight, you give me the most glamourous jobs.”  The dragon smirked at her before returning to his impromptu chair.  Twilight narrowed her eyes and smirked a smirk of her own.  “I’m sensing a certain eagerness from you to go Yakyakistan, Spike.”  “Hmm?” Spike glanced at her, his face suddenly feigning innocence.  “No, not particularly.  I just love my job is all.”  “Riiiight”, Twilight elongated the word, accusingly.  “And it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Rarity’s over there, would it?  Trying to break a new branch of Rarity 4 U into the region?”  “What?” Spike’s innocent act went into overdrive.  “No, no, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me.”  “Sure.”  “Buuut, now that you mention it, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to catch up with ol’...  what did you say her name was?”  “Rarity.” Twilight deadpanned.  “Rarity, right, right.” Spike repeated with a click of his fingers.  “You have so many friends it’s tough to keep track.  Gosh, I haven’t spoken to her in moons.”  He paused, his eyes staring into space.  “Be nice to see her again.” He said, the act dropping for just a moment.  Twilight raised an eyebrow at him, causing him to instantly become fascinated with the scroll once more.  “You’re not fooling anypony, you know.”  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The dragon sniffed.  “Sure you don’t,” Twilight teased.  “So I guess you won’t be taking the Rarity-themed plush toy that I know you still have with you?”  The oblivious act dropped from the dragon’s features completely, replaced with mild annoyance.  “You shut your horse mouth about Rare-bear.”  Spike’s words hung in the air for a moment.  For a second the dragon wondered if he’d crossed a line.  Then, mercifully, the Princess began to giggle.  Spike breathed a sigh of relief, before letting out a chuckle of his own.  “A fine way to speak to your Princess,” the mare laughed.  “I could have you reprimanded, you know.”  “Perfectly normal way to speak to your big sister though,” Spike countered.  “Yes,” Twilight conceded, regaining her composure.  “Yes, I suppose it is.”  A silence hung over the bedroom for a few moments.  Spike took a seat on Twilight’s trunk once again and looked at his adoptive sister, taking in her unkempt appearance for the first time.  “What happened to you?  You haven’t been out in this have you?” Spike broke the silence, with a nod in the direction of the window.  “I just took a walk,” Twilight returned her attention to the mirror, now her turn to play the innocent game.  Spike eyeballed the back of her head, knowingly.  The sound of the rain on the window filled the room as the dragon considered his next utterance.    “Not the statue garden again?”  Twilight said nothing, merely continuing to fiddle with her mane, though her silence spoke volumes.  Spike sighed.  “You need to stop torturing yourself.” Spike said, as gently as he could.  He said it not as a command, but a simple statement of fact.  Twilight once again spun around in her chair.  “And how am I supposed to do that, exactly?” She snapped, anger creeping into her voice.  “I live here in a literal palace, while three creatures, one of them a foal, are encased in stone in my very grounds-”  “Three creatures,” Spike cut her off calmly, “who threatened the lives and welfare of every creature in Equestria.  They didn’t give you much choice.”  “But now,” Twilight rasped, “now I have a choice.”  Spike leaned back, extending his legs and crossing them.  “So...what?  You’re gonna un-petrify them?  And then what?  Return them to Tartarus?”  “I...I don’t know.  No... I doubt that Tartarus could hold them, especially if they’re working together...”  There was another long pause.  Spike could see that his sister was hurting, but there was little he could do.  Why did she have to take on the weight of this all by herself?  She already had enough to deal with, having borne the responsibilities of both of her predecessors at the same time.  She just had to obsess over this one little – not even a mistake – a necessary unpleasantry, and she was letting it tear herself up inside.  Heavy hangs the head with the crown, he supposed.  “You want to rehabilitate them,” He said, finally.  “Redeem them.”  “I’ve done it before,” Twilight spoke softly.  “Discord, Starlight, Sunset, Tempest...”  “You can’t save everycreature!” Now it was Spike’s turn to snap.  He stood and placed his clawed hands on Twilight’s shoulders.    “Not everypony can be redeemed,” his voice softened.  He hadn’t meant to raise it in the first place, but seeing Twilight like this hurt him too.  “Some are beyond help.”  Twilight looked up at him, tears forming in her impossibly large eyes.  “I wouldn’t be much of a Princess of Friendship if I didn’t at least try.”  Spike sighed and paced to the window.  His own brooding refection greeted him.  “No, I suppose not,” He relented, acutely aware that this was an argument he wasn’t going to win.  “Though, if we’re being technical, I think Fluttershy gets the credit for redeeming Discord.”  Twilight snorted a tiny laugh.  “Yes, alright, I’ll give you that one.”  Spike looked at the Princess over his shoulder.  “How much sleep are you getting?” He asked, changing the subject.  “Sleep?” Twilight repeated, caught off-guard.  “Oh, you know...enough.”  “How much?” Spike pressed, turning from the window and leaning against the frame.  “How many hours per night?”  “I’m getting...five, sometimes six hours...” Twilight squirmed.    “That’s not enough.” Spike said with a roll of his eyes.  “I get royal siestas, too,” Twilight dodged.  “You’re a Princess, Twilight.  You should be getting eight hours a night, at least.”  “I can’t.” Twilight said simply.  “I have to dispense all my Princess duties during the day, and then there’s the dream realm that needs at least some patrolling at night.”  Spike shook his head.  “We need another Princess,” he said to the window.  “Hm.” Twilight said humorlessly.  Then the Dragon’s words sank in.  “What?”  Spike looked over his shoulder.  “No, I mean...not like that.  We need a second Princess.  Like how Celestia had Luna.”  “Ah.”  Twilight raised a hoof to her chin in thought.  “Another Princess...”  Spike narrowed his eyes at his sister.  He knew that look.  Something he’d said had led Twilight on a path of thought.  What that path was, he couldn’t be sure, but he knew Twilight well enough to know that it was pointless to ask.  She would just brush him off, so he supposed he’d have to just wait and see.  He pursed his lips as he rolled the parchment he was still holding up in his hands.  “I’ll, um, get a good night’s sleep tonight and head out to Yakyakistan in the morning.”  “What?” Twilight was suddenly snapped out of her ponderings.  “Oh, oh yes.  Do you want me to take you there?”  “No, I’ll fly,” Spike replied with a smile.  “The exercise’ll do me good.”  “Are you sure?  It’s no bother.  I can just teleport you there.”  “No thanks.  Seriously, I’ll be fine.”  “Why not?” Twilight asked, almost indignantly.  She knew that Spike thought that she was overworked, but she was fine, perfectly capable of dispensing her duties.  “Because you’re the ruler of Equestria, not a taxi service.”  Twilight opened her mouth to reply, but quickly closed it again.  The dragon had a point.  She closed her eyes for a second.  “Hargh, fine.” Twilight sighed, defeated.  Spike smiled before standing and making for the door.    “Goodnight Twilight,” He said, opening it.  “Try and get some sleep.”  Twilight watched him as he opened the door.  “Night night,” she said.  With a soft click the door closed, and Twilight was once again left alone with her thoughts.  Spike was right, she wasn’t getting enough sleep.  Now that she thought of it, when was the last time she woke up not feeling like she was about to die?  When was the last time that dragging herself from her bedsheets hadn’t required an immense battle of will?  She shook her head.  And then there was the ‘statue’ problem.  She scowled.  She’d almost forgotten about that for a moment there.  Then Spike’s words echoed in her mind.  What if there was a solution to both of these problems?  Another Princess, huh?  Spike’s idle comment had fired a train of thought that was now in danger of becoming a runaway.  Another Princess would solve the overworking problem Twilight thought, as she dove onto the bed and began to hoof the sheets over herself.  Unfortunately, her Princess options were limited, to say the least.  Celestia and Luna were both enjoying their retirement; Twilight daren’t ask either of them for help.  Cadance was busy ruling the Crystal Empire, obviously, and Flurry Heart was still too young.  So that was that, then.  Twilight magically dimmed the lights and relished the sound of the rain.  If only she could just ‘make’ another Princess, just like Celestia did with her...  Twilight sat bolt upright.  Why couldn’t she, exactly?  She was the ruler now, right?  It was her right to offer the chance to ascend to anypony she saw fit, right?  An impish smile spread across her face.  All she needed to do would be cook up an adequate ‘challenge’...  ‘Something like, say, helping out with the statue problem?’ A thought whispered in her mind.  Her smile became a grin.  Ohh, that was a challenge alright.  Completing a spell of Starswirl’s was one thing, but this...  Princess fodder if ever she saw it.  She lay back down, still smiling.  This was going to require some planning, some lists, and some candidate selections.  She had a pretty good feeling who was going to be at the top of the latter list though.  Twilight slipped rapidly into one of the best nights’ sleep she’d had in some time.