Twilight had a, well, a problem.
It occurred to her one night when she was lying in bed, after a rather unexpected letter and somewhat derailed train of thought had left her in a contemplative mood. It had seemed absurd at first, and to a certain degree still did, but now she was convinced that the most incredible notion, by far, was not the matter itself, but rather her own metaphorical blindness.
Blind indeed, Twilight thought, and, squinting, tried to make out the position of the hands on the alarm clock on the cabinet next to her bed. It was a full moon outside, and her curtains were only half-closed, yet knowledge of the current time continued to elude her. She sighed, sat up and lit her horn. Almost 1:40. That’s… just shy of six hours left?
After listening to the steady ticking for a few more moments, she sighed again. The silky blanket left a pleasant, tingling sensation on her back as it slid off her, but a moment later, the rustling of sheets was replaced by muted hoofsteps as Twilight slowly walked towards the window. She would be terribly tired when she got up later, she thought, yet strangely did not feel much fatigue at all, despite the late hour.
The sky was covered by a thick layer of clouds. Faintly, in the distance, she could hear thunder, but the sound didn’t seem to be coming from the Everfree. Twilight frowned. She briefly thought of Princess Luna, and made a mental note to talk to Rainbow next opportunity she got.
Since her bedroom was on the first floor of the library tree, Twilight could see the eastern part of Ponyville, up to the outskirts a mile ahead, spread out before her.
While her eyes roamed over the city, her mind, too, started wandering again. It followed roads she must have strolled down hundreds of times, traced alleyways rarely visited, lingered at places full of pleasant memories. But in the gloomy moonlight that was peeking through the frayed edges of the clouds every now and then, she saw other things, too. A row of homes drew her eyes in, appearing both perfectly ordinary and unsettlingly out of place to her. How long had these been there? She frequented that street on weekends, but could only recall seeing stores.
Her eyes briefly stopped at the exotic building that was Sugarcube Corner. She yawned and thought of the little dragon sleeping next door. I’ll have to visit Pinkie soon. No doubt she could make Spike’s cake in less than a day, but the bakery has been awfully busy lately.
She really didn’t want to cause her friend unnecessary stress, provided the pink mare was even capable of such a state of mind. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and Twilight yawned again. She returned to her bed, made sure her alarm was set, crawled under the covers and closed her eyes.
~~
Twilight awoke, but not really.
Her mind was slow, covered by a haze, with unrecognizable characters and abstruse objects breaking through the surface occasionally, exchanging bits and pieces of unheard conversations; remnants of dreams mostly forgotten they were, dancing to the horrible tune that had put her in this state.
For a second, the near comatose mare struggled to open her eyes and mouth, since both lids and lips were sticking together uncomfortably, and, in a moment of clarity and determination, focussed all her energy on finding and shutting off her alarm.
“Ugh.”
Twilight groaned, and darkness surrounded her again as she let her head fall back onto the pillow.
For a minute, her mind was blank.
What did I dream of again? She tried to remember, but the last fragments had already faded.
Not quite ready yet to get up and begin the day, but the worst of the numbness having cleared, Twilight’s thoughts instead drifted to the previous day. She had been…
The unicorn turned her head and opened her eyes, but immediately closed them again in pain. Squinting, she stumbled out of bed, drew the curtains shut except for a small gap that let in just enough sunlight to easily navigate the room, and sat down on the floor.
“Ugh.”
Her eloquence might be lacking still, but that was nothing a cup of hot, dark coffee would not fix—hopefully Spike wasn’t as sluggish getting into the swing of things as she—but at least she was completely awake now, and her mind was busy following the thread of events and line of thought that had left her so thoroughly puzzled.
She lifted a hoof and touched the curtain to feel the rough texture of the cloth. What should I do about this? How has nopony ever—I mean, how naive could I have possibly been? Why did I never put any thought into this?
As these and other, similarly fruitless questions reared their ugly heads, her stomach clenched, her face became warm, and a frown continued to grow on her face. Abruptly, she stood, turned around, and marched into her bathroom. She scowled at her toiletries for a moment before willing her mind towards more practical matters and starting her morning routine.
~
“...and I can’t wait to start reading it!”
Twilight squealed and clutched the book to her chest, the yellow binding a stark contrast against her coat.
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” the young dragon replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You almost shredded the mailmare’s bag earlier.”
Spike set two plates laden with steaming food on the table and plucked the empty cup out of her telekinetic field.
“Want a refill?”
The mare nodded and Spike returned to the counter.
“What’s it about anyway?”
“Oh, it’s based on a collection of essays on Riemaneian geometry that have been compiled into a comprehensive introduction to the topic!”
She beamed at Spike. The dragon stared back. He blinked.
“It’s math, Spike. It’s a book about math.”
He didn’t directly answer her, but his indignant muttering as he deposited the cup back in her magic grip and took a seat in front of his plate left little to the imagination.
“Oh come on, I told you that actual math is completely different from the things you have dealt with so far—those were just the very basics everyone needs to learn at school. It doesn’t even deserve to be referred to as math, it’s just arithmetic! Calculating! Doing real math is more like… building a house, where the foundation is…”
This lecture continued for some time as they took their breakfast, with Spike’s occasional and wholly exaggerated remarks about the inherently evil nature of anything math eliciting chuckles from both of them. Twilight was surprised when her little brother eventually started showing genuine interest in the subject and asked questions that threw even her for a loop, if only temporarily.
After clearing the table, Spike said, “I’ll be on my way. I promised I’d meet the Crusaders at their clubhouse before nine. Not sure what they’re up to, though. They were acting kinda strange when they asked me to come yesterday.”
Spike frowned in thought, but his expression reversed when his eyes returned to Twilight’s face. She raised her eyebrows.
“What? Something on my face?”
Again, he didn’t reply. After scurrying over to her, Spike hopped onto the edge of the seat, took the unused white napkin still lying on the table, and pressed it flat against her muzzle.
Twilight followed his motions with her eyes, at first unsure what to make of them, but then snorted and smiled when the napkin came away showing a large, oval stain of yolk.
“What can I say, Chef? Your cooking would please the Gods.”
She leaned down and kissed the preening dragon on his cheek.
“Go along now, I’ll handle the library.”
Spike hopped to the ground and hurried to the front door.
“I’ll be back in time for dinner!”
And with a wave, he was gone. Smiling, Twilight walked over to the door, closed it, and flipped the sign to show the word ‘Open’ to whatever curious pony might walk by. It was still cloudy outside. She hadn’t checked the newspaper for the weather schedule, but it looked like rain.
~~
It should be noted that the proposition above is not global. If we consider a sufficiently large arc of a geodesic...
Twilight stopped reading and stared at the page. She had trouble concentrating. She was thinking about her problem.
Suddenly, the door opened and a chocolate-brown stallion entered the library. Twilight looked up from her reading, forced a smile, and greeted him mechanically.
As the visitor vanished between the shelves, she caught a glimpse of the darkened sky before the door swung shut. Thick raindrops were beginning to fall.
Slowly, the mare’s eyes wandered back to her book.
If we consider a sufficiently large arc...
She briefly looked up to sneak a glance at the stallion quietly browsing the selection. Science fiction? She sighed.
If we consider a sufficiently large arc of a geodesic...
The door burst open again, and Twilight turned her head to see Rainbow trotting in, wearing an annoyed expression on her face. The pegasus stopped in front of her desk, and her irritation changed into a display of poorly masked embarrassment.
“Uh, hey Twilight, how are ya doing?” she said, apparently having a hard time meeting her eyes.
“I’m doing just fine, Rainbow,” Twilight replied with a small smile.
For a second, both of them were silent. Twilight let her gaze drop to the floor. She strained her ears in an attempt to hear the rain that had been rapidly increasing in intensity over the past minute.
Rainbow coughed and Twilight looked back up at her.
“Did you need something?”
“Uh, yeah, you see, I, I was cleaning up my place a little, and,” she sat down and started fumbling with her saddlebags, “I was totally surprised when this thing popped up. Must’ve been weeks since I borrowed it, right?” Laughing nervously, she finally pulled out a rather old copy of a Daring Do novel.
While Rainbow kept rambling, Twilight opened a drawer to her left, and, after rummaging through the documents inside for a moment, pulled out the record of the book in question. She snorted when she saw that the latest entry was over seven weeks old.
“...but it’s totally clean under my couch, I swear! The cover was this messy when I—”
“Just give it to to me,” Twilight interrupted, plucked the book out of the pegasus’ hooves, and, looking it over critically, added, “Once again, you have to come by and get an extension after four weeks. You’re lucky nopony else was looking for that book.”
She got up, stepped past her friend, and walked over to the shelf where she knew the book belonged.
That’s Rainbow for you. The only thing that ever seems to cause her trouble is her tardiness. Well, that and her ego, but that’s gotten a lot better.
The book taken care of, Twilight returned to her desk, and, frowning, made another attempt to resume her reading.
When she looked up, Rainbow was still standing there, looking at her with a slightly befuddled expression.
“What?”
Rainbow recoiled at the sharpness in her voice.
“Uh, nothing, it’s just, last time you went on this huge rant, and I had to pay that totally ridiculous fee—not that I’m complaining now, heh—and—”
Once again, Twilight cut her off. “It’s fine, Rainbow. I don’t mean to be rude, but I am rather busy at the moment. Maybe we can talk another time?”
Rainbow scowled at her forced smile.
“Sure, I guess. Are you… are you alright? You’re acting pretty strange today. I mean, stranger than—”
“I’m fine.” Twilight barely managed to contain the urge to roll her eyes. “You know, I wasn’t joking when I said I was busy. So unless you’ve dug up another book from somewhere it doesn’t belong…” Raising her eyebrows, she gave the cyan mare a meaningful look and motioned towards the door.
“Geez, alright,” Rainbow shot back, getting irritated herself. Stepping out of the building, she said, “See you whenever,” and flew off.
Twilight stomped after her and shut the door, a little more forcefully than necessary. She returned to her desk, but stopped in front of it, rather than sitting down again.
Why had she been so short with her friend?
She stared at the book she’d had so much trouble focussing on earlier. Unbidden, the cause of her earlier state of distraction pushed itself back to the forefront of her mind. Twilight started trembling as hot anger boiled up in the pit of her stomach. She whirled around, rushed up the stairs and into her room, slammed the door shut and threw herself onto her bed. Spike would take care of things downstairs for the remaining hour or so before closing time, she told herself, and wept silently.
~~
The next morning found Twilight sitting at the kitchen table, nursing her coffee in silence. Spike was sitting across the table, glancing at her every so often.
“Want a refill?” he asked when Twilight put down the mug and pushed it away.
“No, I’m good,” she replied, but that was a lie. She had gone to bed unusually early, and, to her surprise, had promptly fallen asleep, but her slumber hadn’t been restorative in the least. She couldn’t remember her dreams, but knew she’d had nightmares, and their topic was no mystery to her.
Sighing, she forced herself to look at the little dragon.
“Thanks for closing up the place yesterday, Spike. I wasn’t feeling well all of a sudden, and went to bed.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied, and, after a moment of hesitation, added, “Want to talk about it? Sounded like you and Rainbow were having a fight. Not that I was eavesdropping or anything.”
Twilight’s gaze grew distant. “I was in a bad mood and snapped at her for no good reason. That’s all. I’ll have to apologize when I see her again.”
Spike opened his mouth, probably to ask her why exactly she’d been in a foul mood, but changed his mind and nodded instead.
Another minute went by, the quiet only interrupted by the clattering of their cutlery and the occasional yawn.
“How was your day with the Crusaders? I forgot to ask about it yesterday.”
She looked up when Spike didn’t reply, and was surprised to find his face crimson with embarrassment.
“Oh, uh, y’know, we were doing, uh, stuff,” he finished lamely.
Twilight at once got the impression that this ‘stuff’ probably hadn’t involved the usual bout of Crusading, or at least had a hard time imagining the trio announcing themselves as Cutie Mark Crusaders Porno Magazine Oglers!
Actually, it wasn’t at all hard. She snorted in laughter.
“Ohhh, you don’t say! You weren’t perchance doing,” she lowered the pitch of her voice by half an octave, “adult stuff, no?”
Spike’s eyes went wide as saucers, and within seconds he had dashed out of the library, stammering some certainly made-up excuse. Laughing, Twilight shouted after him, “Just be back in time for dinner!” Her spirits thus lifted, she cleared the table, flipped the sign on the front door and set about her day.
~~
Dear Princess Celestia,
I’verecently, I
Dearplease exc
Twilight stared at the piece of paper, her lips tightly pressed together.
For the past hour, she had attempted to escape the depressing maelstrom raging inside her long enough to think of something, anything she could write to her mentor about; a formal request for advice, a friendly letter expressing the wish to visit soon and talk in person, a desperate cry for help, anything. But every time she managed to jot down two words, her stomach would clench and a dozen reasons to crumple the parchment flooded her mind.
This was her problem. Hers. She had ignored it, had been too blind to see it, and now, after realization had set in, it was eating her up inside.
Her hoof started trembling. She was pathetic for feeling that way. How could she talk to the Princess about this? To anyone?
Twilight gnashed her teeth. She was growing more agitated by the second.
Pathetic.
A quick glance out the window showed her the colors of the setting sun; it would be dark shortly. The mare stood up from her desk. She needed to break something. Knock somepony out. She stepped towards her table lamp, then the nearest bookshelf, then the cabinet standing next to her bed, reason stopping her each time before she could act.
Failure.
She picked up a pillow in her hooves and flung it against the wall with all her power; the sound it created on impact was unsatisfyingly muted.
Breathing heavily, she flung herself onto the bed and pressed her face into the mattress. She could hear her heart pounding, the only sound; what little noise she had managed to make had finally silenced her distressing thoughts.
This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be feeling that way. This shouldn’t be getting to me like that…
Twilight closed her eyes and exhaled hard. Her hoof wandered down, down towards her nethers. She sighed. After a few seconds, she got up, pulled a box from under her bed and took out the phallic object inside.
~~~
Twilight was lying in her bed, staring at the wall. Her eyes were tracing the intricate pattern of the wooden surface, seemingly symmetric one moment, irregular the other, never quite repeating itself, but appearing monotonous nonetheless.
Her breath went evenly, slowly, quietly; almost unwillingly. From time to time, she’d synchronize it with the ticking of her alarm clock, the only other sound audible in the room.
Five seconds in, five seconds out.
After a few cycles, her attention would shift back to following the seemingly endless lines on the wall. Her stomach was aching with hunger, the sensation extending well past her diaphragm and into her throat.
Twilight strained her ears, but the library downstairs was perfectly quiet. Spike had come knocking at her door earlier, asking about breakfast, but she had sent him away without explanation; now he was probably sitting downstairs, pretending to read a comic, or to keep an eye on the visitors, provided they had any, and wondering what it was that had been continuously dragging her down over the course of the past days.
A couple of days ago, she had awoken, rested and focussed, and relieved, well before her alarm had gone off, her muscles alternately tensing and relaxing with energy.
It had all seemed so easy then, as she had been opening the curtains and smiling into the rising sun. Answers to her questions, a logical, satisfying conclusion, a different, superior point of view, and most importantly, acceptance; her problem had seemed to be fading into nothingness even as she’d been thinking about it.
Laughing, she had danced down the stairs into the kitchen and prepared breakfast, something she felt like she hadn’t done in forever, as confirmed by a confused Spike who had joined her half an hour later. They had enthusiastically discussed an introductory text on higher mathematics Spike had started reading the day before.
Afterwards, Twilight had sought out Rainbow and apologized for her behaviour the other day before returning to the library and resuming her studies, downright plowing through the pages.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a clattering on the other side of the door, and a muted voice said, “I brought you some dinner. I made vegetable stew. There’s a ton of carrot in there, too.”
Silence for a moment.
“It’s pretty good. I think you should eat something, you didn’t have breakfast.”
After a few seconds, the sound of Spike’s retreating steps faded. Twilight heaved herself out of bed, opened the door, picked up the steaming bowl from the floor and went over to her desk where she sat down.
The stew was quite delicious; marvelously seasoned, and the carrots well-done, yet still firm to the bite.
Twilight barely registered any of that.
Her mind felt empty, exhausted, as if having just finished a marathon, a marathon that had continuously sapped away her strength, resolution, and will to carry on. Now she felt only tiredness, the bleak sort of ennui that turned even eating and sleeping into chores.
The spoon scraped against the bottom of the bowl as she finished her meal. She entered her bathroom to freshen up and went downstairs. What for, she couldn’t say.
There was a stack of books sitting on her desk. She looked away. Spike was just standing there, in front of the shelves, staring at her.
Twilight stared back.
She didn’t want Spike to be here. She wanted to be alone, or in the company of anypony else, just not him. Because she knew Spike would ask questions. Questions to which she owed him an explanation. But she didn’t want to explain. She couldn’t. It was her problem, her challenge, hers to fix, to remedy. Her fault. She didn’t want any help. Didn’t need it. But at the same time, a part of her understood that she did.
Her own mind had turned against her. Over the past days, it had of its own volition carefully deconstructed and obliterated every last bit of optimism that had been left in her brain, and a different kind of acceptance had slowly started to settle in.
The doubts had come back, making the arguments brought about by her burst of confidence crumble and become meaningless, one by one. It hadn’t been logical. It hadn’t been preceded by contemplation or reasoning. It had just happened, and she had been powerless to stop it.
She remembered all too clearly. She would be sitting at her desk, staring at the pages in front of her but not seeing the words, while fighting a losing battle against herself. Afterwards, only numbness remained, numbness and a dizzying feeling of surreality.
They were alone. Twilight smiled at Spike and walked towards the reading area in the back of the library. His eyes followed her all the way to the armchair on which she curled up. She gazed at the cushion, still smiling, waiting for the dragon to approach.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after settling into the chair opposite of her.
Twilight looked at him and asked what he meant.
“Well, you’re not eating properly,” he said and listed his observations with his fingers, “you’re sleeping in later than I ever did, today seems like the first time you’ve taken a shower in days, and we haven’t really talked in forever! When I try to start a conversation, you’ll just answer in monosyllables, or evade my questions! What is wrong, Twilight?”
He had grown increasingly agitated and was now leaning forward, urgently looking at her.
Twilight was silent for a moment. Spike’s words seemed to reverberate in her head, but she wasn’t actually contemplating them; it wasn’t necessary.
She told him she’d been particularly wrapped up in her studies as of late, that she was constantly trying to think of new ideas and concepts, and that it was very tiring work.
Spike scowled at her. “I know you, Twilight, and that’s just not your style. The Twilight I know literally goes crazy about whatever she’s studying, barely sleeps, and runs around the house, always muttering and scribbling in her notebook. Normally, you won’t stop lecturing me even if I threaten you or try to hide!”
He was tearing up now. “This isn’t you. You seem so distant, and distracted. I know that something is troubling you, something that’s nothing to do with your studies. You can tell me, Twilight. You know that. I’m here for you.”
The mare searched Spike’s watery eyes for a moment, then gave him another empty smile.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying you, Spike, but it’s nothing. I promise.”
“Pinkie Promise?”
Her mouth twitched.
Hide it. Hide it all. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
~~
The next morning saw Spike in a much better mood—it was his birthday, after all—and despite everything, Twilight couldn’t resist his infectious happiness for long.
It was very relieving, to escape her dark thoughts for a while, like a sunny vacation after a cold and dull winter. But a storm was brewing on the horizon, fast approaching; she knew her reprieve wouldn’t last long.
When they were done with breakfast, the Cutie Mark Crusaders stopped by to fetch Spike, much to his embarrassment. After a moment of hushed conversation, Sweetie Belle darted forward and planted a kiss on his cheek, and the dragon hurriedly pushed them all out the door and was gone.
Twilight was still sitting at the table, an empty plate before her. She caught a glimpse of the sunny, cloudless sky before the door swung shut. The smile had left her face. It had started raining again.
~~
“Happy Birthday!” Pinkie shouted and wrapped Spike in a hug; the sun was beginning to set and the visitors had gathered at the library. Twilight’s closest friends were there, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Cheerilee, Zecora, Big Mac, and a couple more.
After the obligatory bout of congratulations and delivery of the gifts, the company devolved into small groups who approached the tables laden with food and drinks, or went to entertain themselves with the various party games that had been set up.
Twilight was sitting a little ways away from the others, a plastic cup levitating next to her from which she occasionally took a sip. She was watching Spike unwrap his presents, a considerable pile of discarded packaging materials having accumulated already.
The unicorn turned her head as she heard hoofsteps approaching; it was Rarity and Fluttershy. The former was smiling at her warmly, but Fluttershy seemed troubled.
“Hello, darling. I must say, this is a nice little get-together you have set up for dear Spike’s birthday.”
Twilight told her that, as per usual, Pinkie had taken care of everything.
“Oh, I guess that is quite true. I’ve always admired her for her work ethic; I know from experience how difficult it can be to expend time for your friends when one is absolutely swamped with orders. Speaking of, how have you been lately, Twilight? It must have been at least a week since we last talked, haha!”
Fluttershy spoke up. “She’s right. We haven’t seen you at all lately.” She hesitated. “Is everything alright?”
Twilight looked at her friends. Worry was written plainly on Fluttershy’s face; Rarity’s smile was fading, too.
She explained that she had been caught up in important research and hadn’t had much time for anything apart from studying.
“Ah, haha, I see. Well, as I said, I do appreciate diligence in a mare. Say, have you been in touch with Princess Celestia recently?”
Twilight gave her a weak smile. Rarity’s pretense of small-talk was slowly dissolving into concerned enquiry. Twilight answered in the negative, and an awkward silence settled in.
Rarity nervously licked her lips, opened her mouth, then closed it again; she was obviously still trying to find a way to wrap her actual question into pleasant words, but then Fluttershy stood up and took a step forward.
“Twilight, we’re worried about you! Spike told us you haven’t been yourself lately, that something has been troubling you. Why wouldn’t you talk to him about it, or to any of us? We’re your friends, Twilight, and you can trust us. You can tell us anything. We won’t judge you, we just want to help you.”
But this is something you can’t help me with.
She was about to reply when they were interrupted by Pinkie’s loud, excited voice.
“Okay everypony, it’s time for cake! C'mon Spike, do it do it DO IT!”
“Alright Pinkie, geez,” Spike answered with an annoyed tone that was betrayed by his grin. He pulled down the cloth covering the tray in front of him to reveal a massive, single-story cake that was adorned with all colors of the rainbow and had about a quarter of it covered in rubies.
Pinkie spoke up again, but Twilight couldn’t hear her anymore. A large weight had settled in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes seeked those of Spike; he was throwing her an unreadable gaze.
In the kitchen, on one of the upper shelves that the dragon couldn’t reach, concealed by jars and packages, lay a small bag full of sapphires. Spike had recently acquired a taste for the rare and very expensive gem and was using it to season his meals whenever he got his hands on a few.
They’d make for an amazing cake, he’d said. Just wait for your birthday, she’d replied with a smirk; basically a promise. In the end, she had been too occupied fretting about her problem and forgotten about it.
~
The party was over. The guests had left, Spike had gone to bed and Twilight was alone in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge.
She hadn’t eaten anything earlier; the feeling of guilt, amplified by Spike’s occasional disappointed glances, had made her lose her appetite. She’d spent the rest of the evening wandering from one chattering group to the next, always leaving as soon as the ponies tried to include her in the conversation. Using that strategy, she’d also managed to avoid having to talk to Rarity or Fluttershy again.
“Why is there only cake in here?!”
She slammed the door shut and picked up an apple from the bowl standing next to it. She took a plate from a cupboard and a small knife from a drawer. The knife was high-grade, the handle made from burl wood and the blade showing a beautiful pattern.
I’ll have to look up the name of that steel again.
After examining the knife for a moment, she set it against the apple’s skin and applied a little pressure. The knife cut through the flesh effortlessly, creating a faint, chafing sound. A drop of juice accumulated at the point when she withdrew it, and silently fell onto the plate.
She proceeded to quarter the fruit, removed the core, put the knife back onto the plate and took it upstairs into her room. After lying down on her bed, she resumed reading the novel she’d started the other day as a way to distract herself, occasionally cutting a slice of apple and levitating it into her mouth.
When she had finished, she put down her book, placed the dish on the cabinet, used the bathroom and turned off the lights. Hopefully, the plot of the novel would keep her mind busy until she fell asleep.
~~
“You know, I’m not mad at you,” Spike finally addressed the elephant in the room after Twilight wouldn’t meet his gaze for a solid minute.
“I’m just kinda surprised you’d just forget all about it.”
“I know Spike, I’m sorry.”
Forgetting something like that is rather unlike me, isn’t it?
She wanted to say it, but didn’t.
“Yeah, no problem. I can always ask Pinkie to make another cake, I guess.”
They finished their breakfast in silence.
“Man, that was good,” Spike said and got up to clear the table.
“I’ll be up in my room if you need me, reading a bit before we go to the picnic. Gonna start the chapter on differential calculus today.”
Twilight’s ears perked up and she looked at the dragon in alarm.
“What?”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it since you explained to me what it was.”
“No, what was that about a picnic?”
Spike threw her a confused glance.
“Uhm, the girls suggested we’d meet in the park when they left yesterday. Applejack’s bringing the food. Didn’t they tell you?”
Twilight was thinking feverishly. She couldn’t meet them today, not after the run-in she’d had yesterday. She needed an excuse for why she couldn’t come, and then, more importantly, some way to cover up her… problem to get her friends off her back. How she should accomplish the latter, she had no idea.
She told him she had to finish and submit an article for a scientific paper whose deadline was tomorrow, and write a letter to the Princess on top of that.
Spike listened to her explanation, keeping a neutral expression on his face. When she was finished, he gave a curt nod and vanished upstairs.
~~
Twilight was sitting at her desk again, scrawling on a piece of paper. It was filled with notes, half of them crossed out, the other half slowly getting covered by her listless doodling.
She was out of ideas. She didn’t know what to do; how to deal with her problem. Every approach she'd taken had led to a dead end and pushed her state of mind to a new low. By now, she was spending the majority of her days in her room, lying on her bed or attempting to study, but she simply couldn’t keep focussed on the task.
After a while, her thoughts would inevitably turn dark and she’d beat herself up over the same old questions and memories turned bitter. She’d attempted to adopt a different perspective, considering that had caused her problem in the first place, to convince herself she was fine, but alas, it had never worked.
Pretending and hiding it hadn’t worked, and now her friends had noticed. She briefly considered just telling them about it.
No, that wouldn’t help. This was something only she could fix. Talking about it would be awkward, and very uncomfortable, and in the end, what could they possibly say to her that she hadn’t already thought of herself? She could feel that the solution must come from herself, otherwise she’d never be able to accept it and consider her problem void.
But there was no solution. She had searched long and hard, returned to where she’d started and searched again, but not found anything. Would she have to just accept her problem and try to move on with her life? Would that even be possible? Would she one day wake up and find it gone, just as abruptly as it had appeared?
Her train of thought was interrupted by the creaking of the stairs leading up to her room. Twilight turned her head and stared at the door. Who in Equestria could that be?
The hoofsteps stopped in front of her door, and a soft voice spoke up.
“Twilight, it’s me, Celestia. Do you mind if I come in?”
Twilight froze. Why was the princess here? Did she… No, that was absurd. She quickly picked up a small mirror, made sure she was presentable, got up from her seat and called out, “Yes Princess, please come in.”
The door opened and, sure enough, Princess Celestia poked her head in. Upon seeing Twilight, she smiled, fully entered the room and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t wearing her regalia; an odd sight for Twilight, but not as odd as her presence itself.
“Princess, I—”
“Please, no titles. It’s just us.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry, Celestia, I really wasn’t expecting you to stop by. Here, just let me—”
Twilight picked up two pillows from her bed with her magic, deposited one next to Celestia and sat on the other.
After a moment of hesitation, Celestia took a seat as well.
“Thank you. Yes, I Imagine you’d be surprised. I was running an errand nearby that got delayed, so I decided to stretch my wings a little and visit Ponyville.”
Her gaze wandered around the room for a moment, then returned to the unicorn. Celestia was still wearing that eternal, motherly smile Twilight had become so used to seeing.
She’s lying.
“How are you, Twilight? I must admit, I didn’t expect to find you indoors when it’s such a beautiful day outside. Don’t you think it’s rather hot in here?”
She fanned her wings to emphasize her point.
“I’m doing fine, Celestia. Same old, really. I was actually just finishing up on some research when you came in, and I can’t really do that outside. You know how it is, one gust of wind and my papers go flying, haha!”
Celestia smiled, but didn’t laugh. She studied Twilight’s face for a moment, then said, “Do you have anything planned for tomorrow morning? I’d like you to stop by the castle; there is something I want to show you I think you might enjoy.”
Twilight opened her mouth, an excuse already in mind, but it died on her lips when she met the princess’ warm, open gaze, those eyes that had looked at her caringly every day when she had been just a foal.
“No, Pr—Celestia, I’d love to visit.”
She didn’t ask what it was Celestia wanted to show her.
She didn’t have to.
“Marvellous. I’ll send a carriage to pick you up at nine.”
She got up, explained that her errand could wait no longer, and left, but not before walking over to Twilight and giving her a prolonged nuzzle.
The library was silent again. Twilight’s neck was still twisted. She could still feel the warmth of Celestia’s touch.
~~
Twilight was lying on her bed. It was night outside, but the curtains weren’t drawn, and the moon was shining into her room.
The brief glimmer of hope brought by the princess’ visit hadn’t lasted. Like all the other times she’d dared to be optimistic, her thoughts had come crashing down again very soon.
She felt horrible.
She wanted so badly to be held, to have somepony tell her that everything would be okay, that she wouldn’t be feeling like that for the rest of her life.
But unfortunately, kind words wouldn’t help her, no matter from whom she’d hear them. Not even the princess would be able to help her tomorrow.
Twilight turned so she was facing away from the wall. No matter what Celestia would tell her, she knew it wouldn’t have the power to catapult her out of the downward spiral her mind had become. She had to do that herself, but did not know how, nor if she would ever figure it out.
“I don’t want this anymore. Just leave me alone.”
No one replied.
Wearily, she lifted her head to look at the alarm clock.
1:37.
Her gaze flicked to the used plate still standing on the cabinet. Even in the faint moonlight she could make out the pattern on the knife’s blade.
For a long while, her gaze rested on it. Then she set her jaw stubbornly, sat up, and grasped the knife with her magic.