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// Restless 
// Story: Dark Frost 
// by BlueColton 
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“Twilight? Twilight darling, are you home?” Rarity’s sweet, seductive voice echoed off the crystalline walls of the palace. The illustrious white mare shivered as she closed the door behind her. She wore a pair of pink muffs over her ears and a sapphire-blue scarf over her neck. Having lived in Ponyville most of her life, Rarity was used to the cold weather and had little need of excessive attire, unless it was to show off, that is.
“Spike?” Rarity called out. Her hoof falls sounded like drums as she searched the halls. Outside, the night had fallen. Even without the sun, the absence of light was noticeable. The sky dimmed and it became impossible to see very far without artificial illumination. Rarity herself packed a small flashlight in her pink saddlebag which bore her cutie mark, a trio of beautiful blue diamonds arranged in a triangle.
Perhaps the reason her hooves sounded so loud, Rarity mused, was because the weather outside had become dreadful. The winter weather had become a storm, forcing all but the sturdiest ponies to take shelter. Rarity had no wish to leave her home, the Carousel Boutique, where she’d been busy sewing together warm clothes all day. Her fore hooves were sore from working with needles and she even had to put a bandage on a particularly nasty cut.
Now the cuts and the cold Rarity could deal with…but the isolation? Sweetie Belle was over at Scootaloo’s house, looking after her friend after the little filly had taken ill with the feather flu. That left Rarity all by her lonesome. Of course there was Opalescence, but Rarity was a social pony and when your only company was a feline whose only words were “meow” and “hiss” it became a dreadfully boring. She needed some pony to talk, preferably one with linguistic skills to rival her own.
Plus, she missed her Spikey Wikey.
She didn’t find anyone in the throne room or in the dining room. Rarity’s sharp nose picked up the scent of freshly-cut onions and vegetables and followed it up the stairs to where the living quarters were located. As she reached the top of the steps, Rarity heard voices talking. One was undoubtingly Twilight, the cultured mare’s Canterlot accent like music to her ears. The second was the cute tenor of her little Spike. Rarity followed them both to a room that she’d only heard about in passing: Twilight’s study.
Rarity considered herself a well-read mare, but even she couldn’t believe the amount of books Twilight possessed, and this wasn’t even the library. Books, scrolls, and reading material were scattered about the various tables and desks, reminding Rarity a bit of her own creative space back at the boutique. She appreciated and respected a pony’s personal space, and it felt sort of wrong walking in without being invited regardless of their friendship.
However, Spike and Twilight were in such heated debate that neither of them had heard Rarity’s entry, even when she knocked on the door.
“…she was talking about,” Twilight had just finished saying. She was leering over a large book that looked vaguely familiar to the white unicorn.
Standing next to her, and appearing quite agitated, was Spike. “You’re not going to figure it out tonight. Why don’t you go to bed and try again in the morning? Have you looked at yourself lately? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Sleep?” Twilight’s wings quivered. “How can you think of sleep at a time like this?”
“You mean evening? When ponies are supposed to be in bed?”
“I can’t sleep,” Twilight brushed off his suggestion. “Not until I figure out Sunset’s message.”
“You’ve been looking through her pages since you came back. How is staring at a bunch of letters that have nothing to do with our current problem going to help us?”
“There might be something I missed.”
“Twilight, Sunset wasn’t in trouble before.”
Twilight glowered at him. “But she’s in trouble now. She wrote to me asking for help and I wasn’t here.”
Spike raised his voice. “That’s because you were out there trying to help us.”
This sparked a heat of rage from the alicorn. She turned to Spike, wings spread. “Are you saying my friends at Canterlot High aren’t as important as us ponies?”
“I’m saying you’re not going to help any one, human or pony, if you don’t get some rest.” Spike’s words were true. Even from this distance, Rarity could see the bags under the alicorn’s eyes. She could barely keep her head up and her wings sagged.
“I can’t rest, Spike. Not yet.” She turned back to the book.
Spike groaned out loud and pulled at his face. “Fine! I’m going to bed.”
“What? You can’t!” Twilight grabbed him by the tail with an extended hoof. “I need your help.”
“I am trying to help you.” Reaching, Spike pulled his tail from her grasp. “You won’t listen.”
“But you can’t go to bed, Spike.” Raising her head, she said, “I order you not to go.”
“Excuse ME?”
“Ahem!” Both turned to the sound of the distraction. Rarity, now feeling smaller than ever, waved to them from the doorway. “Is this a bad time?”
Blushing, both Twilight and Spike turned away from each other.
“I see. Well then, I can take the hint. I’ll be leaving now.”
“Wait.” Spike motioned for her not to go. He walked up to her. “Don’t go. I’ll make some of that cocoa you like.” In passing, he lowered his voice and said in a whisper, “Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She won’t listen to me.”
When he left, Rarity winced as he shut the door, sealing her in with a very agitated alicorn princess—a very powerful agitated alicorn princess.
“Good evening, Twilight. How goes the research?”
Twilight pinched her muzzle. “Terrible.”
“How so?”
She told Rarity about the message she received from Sunset. Rarity gasped. “How terrible! Those poor ponies!”
“Humans,” Twilight corrected.
“Hu-mans. Right. I keep forgetting that.” How could she not? Neither she nor any of the other Elements had been to the human world and Twilight’s vague description of the creatures who populated it were hard to imagine other than short, hornless minotaurs with no muzzles. Rarity shivered on the inside. “Have you tried writing back to her?”
“Yes! I have!” Twilight snapped and Rarity winced. Seeing what she’d just done, Twilight softened her tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…Rarity,” her tone became defeatist. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
Rarity approached Twilight. “Come now, darling. You’re the Princess of Friendship. You’ll figure out something.”
“Fluttershy said the same thing to me today.” Twilight turned towards the window. The snowfall mocked her. “I wish I had your confidence. You guys make it sound so easy, like I’ll just have an epiphany and WHOOSH! Problem solved. But it’s never that simple.” Their reflections caught in the reflective glass, one tired, the other worried, the unicorns seemed otherworldly in the candlelight.
“I didn’t mean to imply that what you do is easy,” Rarity went on. “The reason we have such faith in you is because no matter what, you always figure things out in the end. It’s what you do.” She walked up beside Twilight and, placing a hoof around her friend, raised her other hoof toward the window. “What do you see out there?”
Twilight looked. “Snow. Lots of snow.”
Rarity smiled knowingly. “I see a problem. And do you know who’s great at fixing problems?” She pointed. “You are.” Rarity poked Twilight’s nose. “BOOP!”
“Stop.” Twilight chuckled, brushing her hoof away. “That tickles.”
“Well I’m glad some pony likes it. I try to do that to Opal and she gives me the dirtiest look.” Looking at Twilight, her hair all haggard and lines with worry, Rarity spoke in the most reasonable of voices. “Spike is right, sweetie. You need to rest. Promise me you’ll take a break.”
“But Sunset,”
“Is a strong, resourceful pony who lived on an alien world for several years all by herself. She was once Princess Celestia’s prized pupil and, according to you, was instrumental in defeating the Sirens. I believe she’ll be alright.”
Twilight inhaled slowly before letting out a breath. “Alright, Rarity. I’ll take a break.”
“And start fresh in the morning?”
“Early morning.”
“Good enough.” Placing a kiss on Twilight’s forehead, Rarity said, “Now off to bed you. All princesses need their beauty sleep.”
Twilight opened the door with her magic, her head drooping as she felt the hours of worry just weighing it down. She turned to Rarity. “Thank you, Rarity. Good night.” And then she trotted out.
Satisfied, Rarity walked up to the podium where Celestia’s old journal was located. She skimmed through a few pages, gradually working from the front to back. Twilight had indeed been hard at work looking over the words traded back and forth between her and Sunset, no doubt hoping to find a clue as to what was happening. She was reading a passage when the door opened and Spike walked in with a tray of steaming hot cocoa.
One quick look told him some pony was missing. “Where’s Twilight?”
“Off to bed like a good little princess.” She looked up and winked.
Spike was relieved. “Thanks. She never would have listened to me.”
“It was just a little girl talk, dearie. No biggie.” Rarity took the offered cup of cocoa with her magic, levitating it so as to have a sip. She shivered in ecstasy. “Spike, you are a culinary connoisseur.”
“Thanks. Whatever that means.” Spike placed the tray on the table and poured himself a cup. “She’s been real hard on herself, Rarity. She tries to do too much sometimes. That pony’s going to drop dead of exhaustion one day.”
“Hush now. So long as we’re here, that won’t happen.” Rarity turned the page. “Twilight is a perfectionist. I can relate.” She sipped her cocoa. “We don’t accept anything less than absolution.”
“Hey, I can understand doing your best. But it’s like talking to a wall sometimes.”
“If walls could speak, darling.” Rarity re-read a sentence before moving on. She skimmed through several pages.
“What would they say?”
“Hm?”
“You said if walls could speak. I asked ‘What would they say?’” Spike repeated.
“Oh it’s just a…saying.” Scrutinizing a passage, Rarity skimmed through several more until she reached the final page, the one where Sunset called out for help.
“What is it?” Spike asked.
“The words, they’re different.”
“What are you talking about? That’s Sunset Shimmer writing to Twilight.”
“It was Sunset Shimmer writing to Twilight,” Rarity cleared up. “The script is not the same. Oh it’s very slight, the curvature of the Ts, the upward curl at the end of the Rs, but it’s not the same.”
“How can you tell?” Spike stepped closer. “And what does that even mean?”
“I have an eye for detail. Comes with the territory. And to answer your second question, it means that whoever wrote this final passage wasn’t our dear prodigal pony, Sunset Shimmer.”
“Then who was it?”
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Rarity said, “I have no idea.”
Outside, the storm bellowed.