//------------------------------// // Gifts Given Gladly // Story: A Hearth's Warming Wassailing // by Airstream //------------------------------// Chapter 5 The gown that had been fashioned for Twilight Sparkle after she had accepted the formal invitation to lead the procession was white, of course. The gown was supposed to be white. But whichever unicorn had woven this (and it was a unicorn, she knew that much), had done something to the fabric. It billowed and moved far more than the simple fabric should allow for, and it seemed to shimmer faintly in the darkness, as if the cloth had been woven of moonlight. Try as she might, Twilight could not undo the spell woven into the fabric, or even deduce its nature. Vexed at this, it had taken her the better part of a day poking and prodding at it before Tarantella had pulled her away to run her through her steps. The Regia had been transformed over the past few days. Candles of white and red and green hung everywhere, waiting to be lit on the celebration, which was to be held tomorrow night. Garlands of freshly cut evergreen were strung in the halls, their spicy scent lifting the spirits of those who passed by. Holly and mistletoe were present, and more than once Twilight had caught two adolescents meeting underneath the boughs for a quick display of affection. The floors fairly shone with cleanliness, and a massive pile of wood was being collected for a roaring bonfire to drive back one of the longest nights of the year. A stage was being built in one corner of the hall for the Hearth’s Warming Eve Pageant, as well as musicians and performances besides the traditional play. The snow outside had been knocked from the rooftops and shoveled out of the courtyards, collected into a sizeable pile out in one of the abandoned fields, and was now being used as a sledding slope. The idea was for fillies and colts to be able to slide safely to the bottom, but some enterprising soul had of course constructed a ramp. It was this ramp that Twilight was watching from her balcony as the seamstresses fitted the loose drape of fabric more closely to her, so that she would not fall on her trek through the forest. The wait seemed interminable, more so because she was not supposed to move, but at last it was over. One of the attendants, a Pegasus, placed a crown of holly on her head, where it perched gently, gleaming in the sunlight. Another handed her a staff upon which a lantern was mounted, a symbol of authority and rebirth, as well as a guiding light in the darkness. “Perfect.” Tarantella said, taking it in appreciatively. “That is exactly how the leader of such a procession should look.” “You think so?” Twilight asked, as the seamstresses brought a mirror. “I feel a bit…ridiculous.” The mare she saw in the mirror begged to differ. The gown fell elegantly to the tops of her fetlocks, conveying grace and poise easily. But the simplicity of the plain fabric set it aside from any other dress she had worn. This wasn’t something worn to impress or amaze other ponies. It was of a different quality entirely, lending her an almost spiritual air. In this garment, Twilight wasn’t herself anymore. She was a leader, almost a messiah. Ponies would follow her in this, she decided. They would definitely follow her in this. “Well?” Tarantella inquired, leaning in along with the seamstresses. “What do you think?” Twilight inhaled. “I think I have a new appreciation for white.” she said, smiling at the ponies who had been kind enough to make this for her. “It’s wonderful. I’d even go so far as to call it perfect.” There was a collective exclamation of delight from the assembled seamstresses, which started out on a pitch that was surely not conducive to good hearing and went upwards from there. Twilight felt the muscles in her neck tense up at the noise, and was thankful when it fell apart into a mere mutter of giggles and conversation, as the mares alternately congratulated each other and bowed to Twilight. It was the work of moments to remove the simple shift and crown, and one of the ponies ran a brush through her hair, ignoring Twilight’s assertions that she could handle it herself. A small cluster of thorns and plant matter was tossed to one side, and Twilight stood ready to rejoin the world once more. She thanked the departing group of mares warmly, and closed the doors behind her, giving an exhausted sigh. Tarantella planted a kiss on her forehead, hovering a bit to do so. “Something wrong, Twilight? You’ve been tense for the past few days.” Twilight’s gaze slid to the window again. “I’m worried about him, Tara. It’s not like Spike to be gone for so long, without even telling me where he went. What if he’s hurt, or captured, or worse?” Tarantella laughed. “I pity the poor fool who crosses that dragon. As for his disappearance, I would not trouble yourself with it overmuch. He is an adolescent dragon, erudite though he is. He desires a bit of autonomy, and he is more than capable of taking care of himself. And besides, dragons are private creatures anyway.” “I know all of that.” Twilight said, trotting to the window and looking out over the courtyard. “But that’s part of what worries me. I know it sounds silly, considering what has happened over the past few months, but…” Tarantella nuzzled her affectionately. “But what?” Twilight’s voice was small, vulnerable. “One day, he’ll leave. And I won’t ever see him again. He’ll enter one of those hundred-year long sleeps, and when he wakes up, I’ll be gone. Or he’ll leave earlier than that, to find a mate or join the migration, and what if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s happier with them than with me?” Tarantella was silent for a moment. “Twilight, I love you, but sometimes you are very dense.” Twilight blinked. “What?” The Condottiero took Twilight’s hooves in her own. “Think you that Spike will ever leave your side while you live? Twilight, I have never seen one that loves you so much, willing to do so much for you. You are his treasure, Twilight, and dragons guard their treasure and love it fiercely. He has braved much for you, fought and bled for you, and you think he will toss you aside for a pretty dragoness, or something as trivial to dragons as sleep? Bah. Twilight, Spike will be ever present in your life, however long that is. He loves you too much for it to be otherwise. Should you live to the end of time, Spike will be with you. His absences are painful, yes, but he will always come back.” “But what if he doesn’t?” Twilight asked. Tarantella shook her head. “You are missing the point entirely, dear heart. Spike has bound himself to you, body, mind, and soul. He will never leave you for too long, to do so would be to violate everything that he is. You are worrying about impossibilities. There is rarely any good that comes from worrying over things that cannot be.” Twilight was still for a moment. “I suppose you’re right.” she said. “I do wonder where he is, though.” “You worry too much.” Tarantella said. “You have nowhere to be until dinner, and I am seeing to it that you are occupied until then.” Twilight’s brow wrinkled. “How is that? There are no more appointments, and I’m setting work aside until the holiday is over. What else is there to-“ She was cut off as Tarantella’s lips met hers, cutting off her speech entirely. Twilight felt her knees go weak, and a flash of warmth ran through her body. She realized they were standing close to the bed just in time for Tarantella to shove her down onto it roughly. The kiss was broken for a brief moment. “Oh. That’s how.” It was late afternoon by the time both of them were sated, laying in one another’s arms and panting from exertion and satisfaction. A few moments passed before they were able to focus on each other properly, and when they did so, the first thing they saw was each other. Twilight smiled, brushing a lock of Tarantella’s mane out of her face. “How do you do it?” she murmured lazily, drawing her lover into a tight embrace. “How do you know just what to say, every time? How can you make me feel like this, all the time? And how did you fall for me?” Tarantella gave a contented moan, resting her head against Twilight’s chest. “I count myself lucky to have found you, Twilight Sparkle. And I marvel that one such as you could love one such as me. As for my words, I don’t know what you see in them. I speak what I think, like I always do. But you take solace from them, and that makes me happy.” Twilight felt herself drifting off, her breathing settling into something deep and rhythmic as she felt Tarantella slip into dreams beside her. She lay back, feeling the mattress under her cradle her gently, as she and Tarantella cradled one another. Her eyes fluttered, and she began to slip into in the blackness of contented slumber. Of course, it was at this moment that the alarm bells began to ring in the courtyard, and both Twilight and Tarantella shot awake, looking around wildly. Tangled in sheets, both extricated themselves from the bed with difficulty, just as Twilight heard the rapid beat of hooves outside of her door, the clatter of which skittered to a halt before an urgent knock was heard at her quarters. Twilight shook her mane out of her eyes exasperatedly, slinging her crystal over her neck. “Yes? Come in!” A Lunar Guard burst through the doors, simultaneously sliding on the stone and attempting to stop and kneel. Remarkably, the stallion did not plow into the floor, wall, or any of the articles of furniture. He gazed up at her, panting slightly. “Lady Twilight…I’ve come to summon you to the courtyard….it’s just…you have to see this for yourself!” Twilight seized the stallion and Tarantella in a rough grip, horn flashing as she transported them to the courtyard. They reappeared about a foot above the snow below, collapsing into a heap before untangling themselves and getting to their hooves. Twilight’s horn flashed dangerously as she looked around her, ready to fight whatever it was that had invaded her home…her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. Spike was unloading a massive burlap sack from his back, dealing out small parcels to eager fillies and colts gathered around him, while the parents looked on with tears in their eyes. As Twilight watched, a small filly unwrapped one of the brown paper packages, bound with string, and withdrew a scarf, hat, and most wonderfully of all, a small wooden figure of a pony, plain and unadorned, but wearing a beautiful gown made of cunningly wrought cloth. All around her, children were withdrawing similar packages. She thought that there wouldn’t be enough to go around, but Spike’s bag seemed never-ending, and the crowd around him diminished, every filly and colt in the Regia bearing away some small toy and, more importantly, warm clothing. Twilight felt a tear gather in the corner of her eye as she moved towards the dragon, who watched her calmly. “Spike…how did you, where did you…how?” she asked incredulously, standing still. “No filly or colt should have to spend Hearth’s Warming Eve cold and unhappy.” he said, indicating the ponies around him. “I decided to do something about that. So I flew to Trottingham a few days ago, and I used the transformation spell you gave me to blend in. I heard ponies talking about your cause, and how they wished they could support it. And after a brief…demonstration…they agreed to send some supplies back with me. A lot, actually. You should have seen it, Twilight! News spread so fast, and it seemed like every pony in the city wanted to help. Most of those are hoofmade, and many of the toys were made by toymakers especially for the children. Even though the Guards in the city caught wind of me, by the time they had, all of the packages had been collected and I slipped out of the city at night. And the ponies of Trottingham send their love and support. They’re with you one hundred percent, Twilight.” Twilight’s voice shook. “Spike, that was reckless, and stupid, you could have gotten captured or worse…you just up and left without telling us where we could find you…and…and…” She swung a hoof at his chest, watching as it bounced off. “And that’s one of the kindest things I’ve ever seen. You idiot, I thought we had lost you…” Spike handed her one more package, with her name on it. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Twilight.” Twilight glanced at him. He had gotten her a present this year…she didn’t know how to feel about that. She hadn’t done anything for him. Just as she thought that, however, he nudged her slightly. “Think of it as a thank-you for…well, for everything.” Twilight smiled, and tore at the wrapping. She lifted out a scarf of beautiful white wool, wrapping it snugly around her neck, and…well, then. The hat she lifted into the air was definitely unique. It was predominantly a bright, garish yellow, with a band of orange wrapping around the bottom. Two salmon-colored earflaps hung down from this, sporting two tassels of the same color that dangled precariously from the tips of the knitted protrusions. But that was not the most unusual part of that hat, oh no. An extremely pink pom-pom rested on the top, waving gently in the breeze as if mildly addled. Twilight heard muted laughter coming from around her, including from Spike. She steeled herself, jamming it firmly onto her head. She glared at the ponies around her, daring them to laugh. One of the Earth ponies, a stallion, stepped forward, offering her his hoof. “Mare walks around in that hat, ponies know she’s not afraid of anything.” Twilight took it solemnly, shaking it with the same grave grace and poise she would afford to a dignitary. Several surrounding ponies doffed their hats respectfully, making low legs at her. She did likewise, returning the bows with a flourish. Spike and Tarantella watched in bemusement as Twilight wore the hat as if there was absolutely nothing wrong about it. She would refuse to take the hat off for the rest of the day, and indeed, when she and Tarantella retired for the night, she wore it to sleep. It was a gift, she claimed. And besides, it kept her ears warm.