//------------------------------// // Chapter Twenty-Three // Story: Her Mother's Daughter // by Nadake //------------------------------// Twilight had never been so far from the Heart in her life. She had never been further than the town that sat at the foot of the monolithic capital of Helios. For all that she could see for leagues from the high windows of the Heart, out onto the gentle plains and rolling hills, actually going through those rolling hills was a new experience. From the dull ache she had felt growing in her legs for the past several hours though, it was an experience she was sure she would have decidedly mixed feelings about.   Not that you wouldn’t be conflicted regardless. An amused voice tickled her mind, nudging gently past the heavy wall she had kept up from habit. The voice was familiar, and the way it slid over her mind, smooth and warm and hard, told Twilight precisely who she was speaking to.   Spike? She prodded along the mental link, almost stumbling as she focused. She didn’t want the thought to be projected to anypony who might be sensitive to them, but the task of focusing on her barrier, the question, the tenuous mental connection, and walking in a straight line almost overcame the poor mare.   Who else? The voice asked, amusement even more clear now. The link between the two solidified as she replied. I somehow doubt that Tia is going to be in the mood to trade thoughts with you for some time.   Twilight grimaced at the thought, and again as her hindleg gave a painful twinge. She had stretched it a little too far coming down the last hill. How is it that you can speak to me?   Because, little one, you haven’t half the skill with your mind you think. Spike chuckled, and Twilight thought she could hear the soft chuffing of the dragon’s laugh reach her ears, as well as echoing through her mind.   The laughter made the mare snort, hackles raised. Before she could snap a reply, Spike’s thoughts brushed her once more.   I meant no insult, Twilight. Only that your focus is scattered now, and you haven’t had the decades of experience to keep such mental defenses in place constantly.   It isn’t as though I could keep anypony out of my mind anyway. Twilight groused, feeling her lip curl as she sidestepped a muddy puddle. She had never been a fainting lady, like some ponies who frequented Court, but hours on the road had given her a rather fastidious avoidance of muck and grime of any sort. You, Luna, and Princess Celestia all have centuries of practice.   And what difference would that make? Spike rumbled. I’m bored.   The sudden statement made Twilight blink, before blushing. How did you-   It wasn’t telepathy. Spike cut her off, somehow sending the sense of rolling her eyes through the link. Ponies, dragons, everything is predictable to an extent. You were wondering why I suddenly spoke to you, and why I have continued to do so. Your response to mine was just as predictable.   Well, I hope I can be an adequate diversion. Twilight huffed, and rolled her own eyes.   Spike winced, a sense of chagrin pulsing between them. I apologize. I become rather…   Cantankerous? Twilight suggested, thoughts drier than the dusty saddlepack draped across her back.   I suppose that works. Spike chuckled. As I was saying, however, experience makes little difference in breaking into someone’s mind, Twilight. Ultimately, your ability to defend your mind is your ability to focus. If your will is strong enough, and you do not allow trivialities to distract you, nothing will be able to pierce your mind.   But you can’t focus on two things at once. Twilight objected. She was so involved in her mental conversation, she didn’t even seem to register that they had begun to climb yet another hill, something that had drawn a whimper from her before. It isn’t possible. At best, somepony can change what they are focusing on very quickly.   True, Spike sent a feeling of acknowledgement to the little mare, something akin to a small nod of agreement. And that is precisely what experience will give you. With enough practice defending itself, your mind can be trained just like a muscle. Eventually, you will react to a foreign presence with an immediate defense, even if the touch is one so light you are not even aware that you are aware of it.   “Then what makes it different from a reflex?” Twilight wondered.   “Makes what different?” A stallion asked from nearby. Twilight jumped, hearing the deep voice so close. The stallion, an earth pony wearing a golden peytral emblazoned with a stylized sun, moved closer. “Are you well?”   You really should remember that you needn’t use your mouth to speak. The amused voice of the dragoness hissed, clearly laughing at the mare’s expense. Her thoughts reached Twilight while the knight was speaking.   “What?” Twilight blinked, trying to sort out the tangle of words. “Oh, no. I mean yes, I’m well. There is nothing wrong.”   Confused by the strange little mare, the stallion arched an eyebrow, looking Twilight up and down with a critical eye. His fur was a dusty tan, a few shades lighter than the dry and hard-packed dirt that composed the main road from Helios to Selene. His eyes were hard to place, a color that seemed to shift subtly between a vague blue and an apathetic green. Their indeterminate color did nothing to soften the sharp gaze though, and Twilight shifted uncomfortably under it.   The stallion seemed to take her movement as a sign, and grimaced slightly. His sharp gaze softened, and he gave her a gentle smile. “C’mere.” He said, reaching around to unclasp one of his saddlepacks. Before Twilight could say anything, the stallion had pulled out a small canteen from his pack, clutching the cork lid carefully between his teeth.   After taking a moment to glance over, and see that Twilight was still walking only a pace or so away from him, he flipped his head, and tossed the canteen to her. The sudden throw made Twilight jump a little, and her magic flared to catch the metal container. Seeing this, the stallion nodded to her. “Take a drink or two, you need it more than we do.”   “What?” Twilight stammered. “No, I can’t do that. It’s barely midday, and I’m carrying less than anypony here. I can’t-“   “Just do it,” the stallion sighed, rolling his eyes. “Everypony here is either a trained soldier, or a centuries old creature of unimaginable power.” The stallion paused, and grinned. “Or a piece of shiny new armor.”   The earth pony knight had raised his voice as he said that, loud enough to carry along the small group. From somewhere out of sight, Twilight heard an indignant shout of “Oy!”. The familiar voice, raised in just the same amused outrage as in her foal years, made Twilight grin.   The sight of her smile made the stallion wink, before turning in the direction of the voice and calling back. “Sorry, Captain Shining Armor, sir!”   He turned back to Twilight, and gave her an encouraging nod. “I mean it, Princess. We are all trained to march like this from dawn till dusk. You aren’t. I don’t know about the dragon, but even Princess Celestia has stopped for a mouthful a time or two.”   “She has?”   The guard nodded again. “Mhm. And given as how you don’t have wings, I’m guessing you aren’t quite as tough as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are.”   Twilight forced a rueful chuckle, and lifted the canteen to her lips. The water was hot, and tasted strongly of metal. Despite that, Twilight had to force herself not to gulp it down in greedy mouthfuls. She took one small sip at a time, feeling the water soothe a throat she hadn’t even known was parched.   After a long minute of small sips, Twilight allowed herself a single large gulp, before she passed the stallion back the canteen. The cork rose to meet its home as the canteen flew, slotting into place with an odd sucking sound. The stallion caught it by the cork, and stowed it away once more.   “Don’t go for too long without water again, Princess Twilight. It could be dangerous for you, and it will slow us down. Princess Celestia won’t leave you behind, and Captain Green-horn won’t either.”   “Damn it, Meadows!”   Twilight chuckled again, much more freely this time. “Thank you, and I won’t.” She assured the stallion, before turning to look ahead once more.   Well, that was rather sweet of him. Spike murmured with an audible smirk.   Twilight rolled her eyes, but smiled. I doubt it. Shining Armor told him to keep an eye on me.   The surety of Twilight’s voice made the dragoness blink, then grin. Ah, he is the Changeling’s beau, is he not?   They are friends. But Cadance made sure he always looked out for me. There was an… incident when I was younger, involving a flowerpot. We were playing hide and seek in one of the gardens, and I tripped and hit the pot while he was chasing me. It wasn’t much, but the fall gave me a little cut a bit beneath my eye. We didn’t think about it, and kept on playing. When Cadance found out though…   Twilight grinned, remembering the sudden glare her mother had sent the stallion. She tore into him like an apple pie. Ever since then, he’s always been careful around me, making sure I didn’t get hurt.   That does seem to be how the Changeling would solve her problem.   How’s that? Twilight asked, feeling the honeyed amusement of the dragoness fill her chest.   She approaches all problems in a similar manner. In the most expedient fashion, and with the maximum of force.   Twilight smirked. You underestimate her. You make her sound like a battering ram, bashing away at her problems until they are solved.   And she is not? Spike arched the thin, supple scales that ringed her eyes. It echoed through their minds like the susurrus of dry leaves brushing together.  Each time I have seen the Changeling Queens, their goals are as predictable as their strategy. Infiltrate, control, and enslave their newest source of food.   Twilight shook her head, acidic bubbles of disgust burning bitter on their tongues. No, Cadance isn’t like that. She’s subtle.   You say this only because she deceived you for so long, Twilight Sparkle. Spike stated, calmly. And that was likely only possible because you simply weren’t aware that such creatures-   She isn’t a creature. The connection between the two began to roil, as her anger pulsed along the bond for a long moment.  It wasn’t the hot fury that had been so common in the Heart of late, the kind that stirred the magic all around into a frenzy. It was indignant, not passionate, and though is sent ripples through their connection, Twilight kept the volatile emotion from affecting her magic.   You have improved. Spike noted drily, and Twilight could taste the ancient creature’s amusement. If you keep doing so, soon you shall put Celestia and myself to shame.   What? Twilight asked, blinking in confusion. The distraction lifted her attention from the ground for a short moment, just long enough for her hoof to land with a solid squish in a muddy puddle.   You may want to watch where you step, little one. Spike said. The mirth in her voice bubbled just beneath the words, but the dragoness restrained her laughter for the sake of her dirty friend.   What I mean, Twilight, is your self-control. she continued. The hint of her laughter was still present, an aftertaste to the dragon’s words. It softened the serious tone just a touch, smoothing out the rough edges that clung to the thoughts, soothing the tatters of an unseen memory. That is something that neither I, nor your Princess were ever able to master. For all our power, our wisdom, we are ruled by our emotions.   A harsh laugh echoed through Twilight’s mind, full of self-reproach. Many think that long life dulls the senses, lessens the power your emotions hold. They think that you move on, you accept the inevitable. None of them understand the pain of waiting and watching as all the things around you waste away. It wears on your mind, in ways you cannot hope to understand.   The dragoness sighed, and Twilight felt the stirrings of regret in the mental exhalation. You may have… noticed the extreme reactions that Celestia has displayed recently. Her shifts in mood, her sudden, violent anger, at times even her childishness.   Well, yes. Twilight spoke, hesitant. She worried her lip for a long moment, before continuing. Princess Celestia has been behaving, oddly.   None of us are far from our emotions, Twilight Sparkle. As we age, we only become better at controlling them. Perhaps it is that very few are willing to tell creatures like Celestia and myself that we are wrong, so few would, or even could, punish us for behaving like younglings. I know that you can feel it when our anger runs hot. You could feel the way our rage seeped into our magic, took control of it.   That you can restrain yourself, on a topic you hold so close to your heart, speaks well of you. The simple ability to control yourself in such a way may not seem a gift, but it is no less valuable for its plain appearance. I envy you that skill.   Twilight felt her cheeks flush as she walked, hearing the surprisingly gentle words. The sudden, sweet scent of apples filled the mare’s nostrils, and it took her a moment to untangle the mess of signals being sent to her mind. The smell wasn’t something Spike had sent her, though it did make the mare wonder just what thought or emotion would smell like fresh apples. Instead the appetizing aroma was carried on the afternoon breeze, mixing with the drier smells of dirt and sweat and hot summer air. The sharp stench of warm metal, armor baking beneath the sun.   Spike? Twilight hesitated, steps slowing as she considered her words carefully. Why are you telling me these things?   I can’t make conversation?  The dragon’s amusement, something that felt like dry leaves crackling underhoof. It was crisp, and pleasant, but it held the same sense of finality about it. The amusement dimmed slightly as Spike continued.  I… thought that you deserved to know. Little one, you must understand that you are in a position that few could ever imagine, and at a time that allows you to see the world that is often hidden from view.   The ponies of Helios see Tia as many things. She is wise, fair, and kind. She places the needs of her subjects before all else, and she cannot abide injustice. Twilight sensed Spike shake her head, a frustrated tic. You have seen far more of the Princess than any of her subjects. You have seen that she can feel uglier emotions. Annoyance. Anger. But also tenderness. You have seen her humor, genuine smiles. But even you, Twilight, have only seen a few facets of her. Tia is old, and has had centuries to learn control. What the world sees, she fully intends to show them. Even to you, she…   What? Twilight asked, feeling somehow that the thought itself trailed away. Her words echoed in the empty space for a long moment, before Spike sighed.   I do not mean to say, or imply, that Celestia has lied to you, Twilight. No more than the Changeling lied about her love for you. But Celestia has never allowed many of the darker aspects of her history come to light. And you have seen that, when she is under the kinds of pressure placed upon her now, she... cannot keep up her façade. She cannot act at all times as the wise leader. Her hot-headed nature is more apparent now, is it not? She has always been impulsive, and somewhat reckless. And as I told you, we creatures of such long lives do not truly have any more control over how we feel than does anyone. We simply have become masters of controlling our reactions to them. When pushed too far though, you see us as we truly are. Petty. Jealous. Wrathful. All of the ugliest parts of our personalities, the parts we try to hard to hide, to ignore, they stand out in sharp contrast to what you expect.   You recall how… extreme Celestia’s reaction was, when she believed she had been betrayed? If the wards surrounding the Heart were anything less than they are, the surge of magic would likely have been felt halfway to the sea.   I remember. Twilight took a deep breath. That day had been… eventful. It still burned in her memory, a stark reminder of just how easily her whole world could be fractured.   Tia takes treachery personally, in a way that few I have ever met in my eons has. When she was still young, her lover betrayed her. He chose his love for Tia, his need to protect her, over the lives of Tia’s subjects. Had Lights-On-Water still been alive when she discovered what he had done, I shudder to think of what she would do to him. It took nearly four centuries before the legends of her rage faded, and ponies forgot just what their Princess could do. Spike fell silent as their small band neared yet another of the seemingly endless hills. The hardpacked dirt of the road had grown soft as they spoke, shifting slightly underhoof now. Twilight blinked, and turned to look out at the trees that crowded the road. The warm, crisp scent of apples was even heavier on the air now, and the siren song brought forth an answering growl from her stomach. How long had she been speaking to Spike? I am no less stubborn, in my own ways. Spike suddenly stated. The words were rushed, and her thoughts had a sense of deep conflict to them. I have become accustomed to being… unchallenged. It has been centuries since somepony last opposed me. Since I was last questioned. It made me, arrogant. Even now, I cannot- Her thoughts dropped into a frustrated snarl. The feeling of lashing her thickly muscled tail filled Twilight. I do not believe that my plan, for want of a better term, that my plan was in error. Celestia does not appreciate the horrors that my kind have wrecked upon the world. If they are allowed to, live, then there is no assurance that they will not descend into that madness again. Twilight cocked her head to the side. Before she could speak though, Spike began to speak in a rush. I understand Tia in ways even she can’t appreciate. I am certain that I know what she intends to do, the solution she has in mind to this mess. I understand, and I sympathize with it. She has perhaps the best chance of ending this conflict without bloodshed. Without waking the Beast, and without sacrificing hundreds of ponies and damning my race to extinction. But even knowing this, I cannot rid myself of the certainty that MY plan, one I have pursued for centuries, is the only resolution. Twilight heard a loud clack rend the quiet afternoon. The sound reached her at the same time as the sudden tightening of her own jaw. Spike’s voice was tight now, trembling with rage. Did you never wonder why my method of dealing with mine kin was so convoluted? Did it seem incongruous, when I could simply have destroyed them all? I could unleash upon them an inferno that would turn even dragon bones to ash. Do you know why I let them live, when I hate them so? Twilight shook her head, and winced as a spike of loathing slammed into her gut. Because I had to know that I was better than they were. That I wasn’t a monster, like Fang. If I let them live, then they could find peace, find a way to rise above their cruel natures. Twilight felt the dragoness pause, her mind soaking in the brine of Spike’s self-reproach. Into that silence, the little unicorn spoke, and she felt the ancient being flinch at her words. You needed to know that a dragon could be more than a monster. Yes. A harsh whisper flowed into Twilight. The thought was a ragged thing, one that scraped raw edges against her mind. It trailed memories and emotions, far too strong, too confused, to be intentional. For the first time since she had begun the queer method of communication, Twilight felt as if she had somehow violated another. The pain in her mind was too foreign, and she could feel the emotions attaching themselves to unrelated thoughts, seeking to solidify themselves in her mind. The sensation was terrifying. And Twilight fought back at the infectious thoughts with a reflexive fury, pushing back wherever she could feel it creeping closer. The thought of losing her mind, even a tiny fraction of it, filled the unicorn with a dread that was wholly her own. She couldn’t tell how long she spent fighting back the overpowering emotions, but when Twilight broke through the surface of that roiling ocean, Spike was speaking once more. I had to give them a chance. If they showed that they could live in peace, I would have found a way to return the fire magic to them. Even if I had to die, I would have returned their future. Spike had calmed slightly. After that first tortured word, her thoughts lacked the horrible barrage of memories and feelings. Though the slow, heavy words, not unlike the way one would gasp between sobs, still were full of emotions, they were no longer suffocating. It still felt as though Twilight were being clubbed about the head with the sheer intensity of the emotions though. But they didn’t. I gave them thousands of years to change. I watched as century after century they grew weaker, as the younglings that remained were killed in foolish raids. Every time I woke from my slumber, more and more of my kin were slain, either by their own foolishness, or by chance. The linnorms, the wyverns. All the draconic creatures, the ones not damned, encroached. Every time I woke, the number of my kind grew fewer, and the confidence of the creatures who saw their weakness grew. Now there are only a few left. Barely enough to breed. The females will be lucky to bare a single clutch now, even if the fires return. If they can, if, by some miracle, Tia can find some solution in the midst of this torment. Spike’s voice grew distant. Sad. Her words were hollow, like they echoed up from the bowels of a stone cave. I hope that she can. Twilight, I’ve never wanted something so much. I want my people to live, I want the pain and the guilt to stop. But I don’t think she can. I don’t think anyone can help them now, help me, now. I hope that she can save us from the depths of this despair. But for as noble as she may be, even Tia cannot save the damned. Twilight hesitated, feeling Spike grow distant once more. Before the dragoness could break the link though, she spoke. I don’t think you are a monster. I just think you’ve been forced to make decisions nopony should ever have to. You tried your best. You aren’t perfect, but… Twilight’s voice trailed away for a long moment. Then she smiled, and she knew that the light, sunny warmth of it reached out along with her thoughts. But I think that you will find a way to right the wrongs of the past. You are too good not to try. Spike stayed quiet for a moment. Then, gently, Thank you.