Chapter 6: The Ward
Chapter 6: The Ward
She could swim fast.
Little fish need to know how to get away from big fish, from things that would eat them, things that would hurt them.
Little fish always swim the fastest, because they have no other way to deal with those things that vex them.
She was no fish, but she sure could swim fast.
She was quick, and could swim for a great long while, but she was no fish.
Though, if she were being truthful with herself, she was rather little.
She exploded through a school of mackerel, not even bothering to snap at one as they darted away from her, their silvery scales flashing in the shafts of sunlight that fell through the cold northern sea.
The school disappeared behind her as swift, powerful strokes of her tail jetted her forward through the waters, the towering shafts of light catching across the soft green chorus of her hair, fins, tail, flukes, and eyes.
The waters were bracing, and she felt the way that the currents were adjusting to the sudden presence of land.
Her senses fell through the water, and she could taste the way that the sea was changing. She could taste rivers, taste estuaries filled with life, each leaving their different sensations and memories in the sediment that was being washed into the sea.
Right now, all she wished was to go farther north, towards the places that she’d heard her kind sing about. Right now, she just kept swimming, kept pushing herself on towards these new smells, these new tastes that flowed out into the sea.
She could swim fast, maybe even fast enough to find a new world.
A current whipped across her, and it was deep and cold. She gave a little “Eep!” and to her embarrassment a stream of bubbles escaped her lips. She scrunched up her face and then pointed her muzzle towards another shaft of sunlight.
To her delight an outcropping of stone lifted to the surface nearby. She smiled broadly, and instead of slipping to the surface for a quick breath she leapt clear out of the water and upon the rocks.
She fell over onto her back with a contented sigh, giving a little giggle as the warm rays of the sun quickly began to warm her coat.
Her hair fell across her in wet tangles, and her arms fell to her side, opening her up to the touch of the warmth. She giggled again happily, and as she lay there supine upon the rocks her song lifted from her.
Her song drifted along, reaching out across the sea… stunning a seabird from flight.
She gave another “Eep!” as it landed next to her, the bird wobbling around as though enchanted or intoxicated… perhaps both.
Her hand went over her mouth as she watched it recover, hiding her smile. It shook its head, squawked at her, and then lifted back into the air.
Silly birdy, it wasn’t her fault he’d heard her song. It wasn’t her fault that he was a boy.
Boy.
Her smile faded as her head went back down to the rocks, as she turned onto her side, resting her face across her forelegs.
Boys, males… Daddy. She missed Daddy.
Daddy had gone away, and Mommy only cared about Baby.
She lay there in the sun for a great long while.
She lifted her head, ran her hands through the light poufs of her hair, and stared across the sea. In the far distance there was the outline of a shore, the places talked about in the songs of her kind.
She filled her breath, body, and blood with air, and then was in the sea once more, racing towards that horizon with powerful pumps of her tail and flukes…
… racing towards a new world, towards one that must, must, must be better than the one she was leaving behind.
She could swim fast.
------------------------------------------
Spike’s little feet wobbled through the air, and as he slid out from beneath Celestia’s wing his grunt rose around the hospital room.
The alicorn, the nurse, and the orderly watched as the dragon once more made his way to the cupboard. As he climbed to the space above the sink Celestia saw where his claws had begun leaving deep gashes in the countertop.
Soon the pitcher was filled, and not long after after his hands wrapped tightly around another glass. Water splashed through the sink, filling the cup as the dragon hummed in content.
“Getting really, really, low on glasses, Pacemaker,” the dragon said, weariness showing in his voice.
“You know, Spike,” the orderly said as he followed the dragon towards the bed, “just because you used the glass once doesn’t really make it dirty.”
Comfort’s hoof found the orderly’s shoulder, and her look imparted her meaning.
Together the three of them watched as Spike once more cautiously made his way to the bedside, the glass of water in his claws…
… as he once more brought Twilight a rainbow.
The dragon stopped, placed the glass upon the table, and then rested his head across his arms, looking deep into Twilight’s face as her tiny breaths continued to lift the sheets.
“He came in with her parents, I am told,” Celestia whispered.
“Yes, Majesty. He smuggled himself in her mother’s saddlebag. He was the first visitor to her side. He simply leapt out and went straight to her side,” replied the nurse. “Scared the daylight out of all of us.”
Celestia’s gaze fell over the dragon. The nurse continued as Celestia kept looking over the child whose world was lying quiet and still upon the bed.
“An hour later, he brought her the cold water for the first time. It was two days later that we realized that he hadn’t left at night. It was another full day before we realized he hadn’t had a meal,” Comfort whispered, lowering her head to the ear of the alicorn. “And so it’s gone, your majesty, for the last week and four…”
The nurse looked up to the clock above the bed. She drew a sharp breath, and then continued.
“… for the last week and five days. The poor little guy, he’s lost without her.”
Celestia closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and then stared at him once more.
“Yes, he is,” she whispered. “He is her faithful servant. He is her true friend… her true believer…”
Celestia stared at the floor. She breathed an Invoke under her breath, and then raised herself from the couch. Her noble hooves hit the cold, clean floor of the hospital room, and after a brief flutter of her wings she began to walk towards the dragon.
As she did, her expression went soft, and she begged him wordlessly to forgive her for the insufferable chain of sins that must now follow.
“Spike?” she asked, lowering herself onto her knees. She looked up to him once more, trying to appear small. He seemed not to notice, and simply remained staring into Twilight’s unopened eyes.
“Can you remember nothing else about the artifact?” she asked quietly. “Is there nothing else that you can remember from your encounter with The Pillar of the Sun?”
What she had said… it thudded across him.
The words smacked Spike, sent him reeling. The dragon lifted from the bed and stared at Celestia, spinning about so quickly that he nearly went stumbling over his own feet.
His foe had a name.
The unholy, dismal, evil, thing that had done this to Twilight… it had a name. The object of his hate, the horrible, monstrous, thing that had hurt Twilight… it had a name.
It had a name.
“P-Pillar of the Sun?” he said, his face coming alive. “Princess… what is the Pillar of the Sun?! W-what, why was your cutie mark on it? Please! Please, what…”
“I assure you, Spike, that was not my mark,” she said, her voice falling into a shadow of an emotion he could not name. “Just an imperfect facsimile thereof.”
Spike hopped from one foot to the next, his hands out before him, his face alive with emotion.
“Please, Princess, what is it!?” he called. “What does it want, what does this pillar thingy… what can I do to…”
Her expression was still soft, but at once it became distant, formal. She tried to hold this posture until he lifted his arms, looking like a child wishing to be picked up, to be comforted.
Forgive me, Spike, she thought as his eyes searched through hers.
“Princess, please…” he asked, his voice small, his eyes watering.
“Spike, when did you last eat?”
Her question dropped over him, sending him back into his defensive posture, his head down across his forearms, staring at the forlorn figure upon the bed.
“I had breakfast,” he murmured, the words falling out of him in a huff of heat and moisture across his own arms.
Celestia tilted her head to the left, to the right, and then to the left again. “Today,” she asked, “or yesterday?”
Spike’s sigh lifted around the room, and his secret was revealed. He hadn’t been eating regularly. He’d barely been eating at all.
“Where have you been sleeping? Have you been sleeping?” she asked, floating her voice over him again. “I stopped in to visit with Twilight’s parents, you know.”
The dragon said nothing. He simply continued to breath across his own arms, to sit and stare at the unmoving alicorn upon the bed.
“They said that they had offered to bring you back to their home every night, to let you sleep in Twilight’s bed,” she continued, laying her head next to his. “They assumed that you were staying with Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor, yet now I find that you’ve been staying here.”
“You… you shouldn’t stay here all day and all night, Spike,” said Comfort, “we aren’t supposed to let any visitors in this late, especially those who aren’t…”
The nurse stopped herself, halting before saying the word, before saying “family”.
“We, we aren’t supposed to let anyone stay here all night,” Comfort sighed, “especially a child, and alone.”
“I’m not alone,” he said, his voice a low rumble, as though admonishing her, “I’m with Twilight.”
“You know full well what I mean, young colt… errr, whelp.”
Spike didn’t look up to Comfort. Instead, he pushed himself farther into his arms. It was a childish act, hiding from all of the adult faces that were moving the conversation closer to places where he desperately did not want it to go.
“Spike,” Celestia began, “her doctors asked me look in on you. Everypony is very concerned about you. It is not healthy for you to be here, not like this.”
“I wanna be here when she wakes up,” he said, his voice muffling in his arms.
“We know you do, Spike,” Celestia continued, lowering her head closer to his. “We know, I know, what Twilight means to you. But, Spike, when she does wake up, do you think she will want to see you like this? Will it make her happy to see you so tired, so thin? Hungry?”
The dragon laid there silently, his head still in his arms, avoiding their gaze. After a few moments his hand came out, pushing across the bed, sliding across the sheets.
It settled across one of Twilight’s forelegs. Even as she lay beyond sight and sense, the dragon still sought her, still sought the reassurance that came with her closeness.
“Please don’t make me leave,” Spike whimpered. His voice was small, and it was tinged with a sense of helplessness. Celestia could only raise her head to Comfort, to Pacemaker, and gauge their expressions as well.
There were doctors, professionals of all stripes, in this ward who were rightly offended by the presence of the child. It wasn’t sterile. It was favoritism. He wasn’t even her biological family. It was simply against the rules, and it wasn’t very good for Spike either. Not good at all.
Yet, Celestia noted, all had taken a look at him and thereafter none seemed to have had the heart to make him leave…
She frowned. She’d have to do something about that.
She’d have to start the chain of sins.
“Please don’t make me leave,” Spike asked once more, his head buried in his arms, his hand upon Twilight’s foreleg.
“Spike,” Celestia said, placing her head upon the bed once more, pushing her muzzle closer to his face. “Spike, the doctors asked me to command you to leave during the night, to leave during the times when the ward is closed to visitors.”
The dragon began to wipe his face across his arms, the word “no” repeating in his motions over and over and over.
“They made very concise, reasoned arguments as to why I should,” she said, her voice filling with cold, hard authority.
He shook his head harder, shook it almost violently, protesting what he sensed she was about to do. A single whine rose from him, muffled in his arms, the sheets, and the mattress.
“But I shall not.”
The hospital room went silent, Spike’s plaintive call ending in a note of supreme confusion.
The nurse and the orderly looked at one another, bafflement painted across their faces. As they stared back to where their sovereign lay, they witnessed Spike’s head coming slowly out of his arms.
He stood, his hand still outstretched and pressed upon Twilight’s foreleg. As he did his eyes met Celestia’s, and he seemed to be in disbelief about what he had just heard.
“W-what?” he asked in an unsteady voice, his eyes red and glistening, still showing the leading edge of a deluge of tears that now, he dared believe, he may not need to shed.
“Spike, though some may question my decision, I believe that you would fare far worse by being forcibly separated from Twilight than you would if allowed to be near her,” she said, lifting her head off the bed. “It must be your choice.”
Spike looked up, staring at her in disbelief. Celestia’s warm smile opened up, showing him that she had spoken the truth.
For the first time in days, Spike smiled.
His face turned up into a smile, and he ran the back of his arm across his eyes. He smiled brighter. He smiled and smiled and smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you,” he repeated again, wiping his eyes with his other arm, his smile growing wider and his voice louder.
“Thank you so much!” he cried, and then stepped forward. A few flecks of light fell from his arms, the late afternoon sunlight catching in the tears that sat there. He lifted his arms up to her up to her, and then leapt forward to wrap the ageless, supposedly immortal, and apparently divine being in a hug.
He felt something stop him, and he opened his eyes to find her hoof pressed to his chest. He looked up to her with hurt showing in his face, an expression that quickly changed to a sort of questioning puzzlement.
She was smiling, and her expression was soft.
“But,” she said.
Uh oh, he thought as his eyes wavered upon her. There’s always a great, big, but…
He thought about what he had just thought for an instant.
Heh…
“But,” she continued, “you must make me a promise, Spike. You must make me the promise that you will try to leave her side for breakfast tomorrow. You must, must, must try to go out into the city, to have a real breakfast. That is what you must you must promise me, Spike. You must promise me that you will at least try.”
Spike looked up to her, some part of him trying to make the promise. It was so simple. He could just say yes.
Other parts fought back… parts that didn’t want to leave Twilight alone at all. Parts that did not want to lie to the princess.
“You have lived under my protection your whole life,” Celestia continued. “You have dwelt under my protection since the moment Twilight hatched you. Through your years in the nursery, to the house of her parents, to the suite you shared with her at the school, to your own little bed very near hers in Ponyville’s library… in all of those times and through those years you have dwelt under my protection, and I have given it to you freely.”
She tilted her head, looked at him pleadingly, and finished her request.
“Is that not enough to gain one promise from you? Are you not loyal to me, even after all of these years, after all the little times that you, Twilight, and I have shared? After the years that I spent with you in the nursery, the time we spent as you learned your magic? Is that worth one promise from you, that you will at least try to nourish yourself?”
Spike was shocked at where the conversation had gone. He’d never, ever heard Celestia make such mentions of the things that they had shared, upon all of the trust and, well, love, that had come from the time that they had spent together.
His mouth came open, and the whelp blinked. It was true. He’d led a charmed life under her protection. Apart from Twilight, there was no pony… of course he was loyal to…
“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’ll go get some breakfast when they’re givin’ Twilight her bath and stuff. Everypony’s in here then and it’s all crowded and…”
The dragon looked up to see her smiling down over him. He smiled back.
“I… I promise,” he said, rocking back and forth between the toes and balls of his feet. “I’ll really, really, really try to go out tomorrow.”
The two stood there smiling at one another, sharing their big tear-stained grins. But, after a few moments, Celestia’s expression dropped, and a look of supreme disappointment fell across her face.
“Wah! Princess!” Spike said, jumping a little, trotting closer to her. “What’s wrong? Wha-what happened?”
“Spike,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his, “what happened to that hug you were offering me? Where did it go?”
He blinked again, and a smirk left her lips. The dragon took the last step forward, his arms coming up to her. Comfort and Pacemaker smiled to one another as his arms appeared around the back of the alicorn’s neck, gathering her as close as his little reach would allow.
Celestia’s immensely larger frame fell around his, her head going across his shoulders. Her vast white wings folded around Spike, and for the first time in nearly two weeks the child felt safe, happy, and warm.
Small talk floated around the room for the next hour or so. At dinnertime, a tray of food was produced by another orderly, and the unwritten expectation upon it was that they would witness Spike eat something.
It was mostly vegetables, some macaroni salad, and other hospital food staples, all of it awful. Spike ate though, ate as much as he could stomach. The tapioca pudding went down especially easily.
Even as he ate, two doctors came in, doing their routine check of the patient. They were a stallion and a mare, both unicorns, and both doing a rather poor job of not looking surprised to find the room still inhabited by a certain dragon after regular visitor hours.
He smacked his mouth loudly, the tapioca tasting especially good as he watched them. After a while, he had the pleasure of watching those who had tried to eject him from Twilight’s side slowly walk out of the room.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he muttered under his breath, “you’d better run.”
He then asked, politely, if there was any more tapioca pudding to be had.
Celestia stood to leave, and as Comfort and Pacemaker bowed to her, the princess felt the odd sensation of a tug upon her mane. She looked down to find Spike drawing his foot along the floor, tracing the tiles with his toes.
“Princess?” he said, his face to the floor. “Before ya go, you said something about the, well, thing. Ya know, the one that h-hurt Twilight. You said it was an artifact… yeah, an artifact. You called it ‘The Pillar of the Sun’, right? W-what, what does…”
“How about Joe’s?” the alicorn answered.
Spike’s eyebrow arched, and he was suddenly very confused.
“Yes, how about you try Joe’s Doughnut Shop for breakfast tomorrow?” she said, smiling down over him happily. “You know that he always appreciates you visiting him.”
Spike gulped, and an encounter with the familiar stallion in a train not so long ago flashed through his mind. He wondered if that welcome still applied.
Spike shook his head, forcing himself back into the topic at hand.
“Princess?” he began, jumping up and down in front of her a little bit .“You said it was called The Pillar of…”
Sunlight bathed him, and Spike felt much of the tiredness of the last few days departing. He was upon high ramparts, flags were snapping around him and the sun was washing over him, filling his scales with welcome warmth.
He regained his senses just as Celestia’s lips left the top of his head, as she withdrew her gentle kiss.
“Yes,” she said as she turned to leave. “Eat at Joe’s.”
With that, the alicorn left the room, leaving it to the earth ponies, the dragon, and the one who lay quietly upon the bed.
In the hallway, two royal guardsponies stood watch over the door.
They stood there, keeping their vigil as their sovereign moved in her inexplicable ways in the room beyond. They stood there, observing the comings and goings in the hallway, as guardsponies are often wont to do.
Oddly though, for guardsponies, they did not stand there silently.
The two stallions, both of typical large build and powerful stance, were considered oddities among the elite corp that guarded Luna and Celestia.
It was not that they were both earth ponies, which was common enough among the guards.
It was not that they did not have cutie marks that showed them being adept at war and combat, which was also common enough.
It was not that they had combat experience, and had gained a post among the guard through dedication, heroism, and selflessness… because they had.
No, what separated these two guards from most is that, whilst engaged in their duties, they generally refused to shut up.
“You may not use the letter ‘e’ in conversation for the remainder of the hour,” said the first, Simple Script, setting off another round of their banal little games.
“I had thought you’d assign a hard task,” said the second, Morning Mist, easily falling into the challenge. “Now you must start your banal talking with words that can also work as subordinating conjunctions.”
“How is that your game?” answered Script, moving into his task with equal speed. “Since when have you advocated using conjunctions to begin sentences? Because of such lax practices, our language becomes imperiled.”
“Alas,” answered Morning Mist, “such is our condition in Equ… the land of pon…”
Simple Script smirked, sensing victory.
“Our lady’s domain,” answered Celestia, quickly sensing where the game had been going.
The two guardsponies clicked their boots together in salute, and then fell in behind the sovereign. They walked along slowly, watching the princess as her head began to droop, and as it did they heard her sigh. They watched her peer into each of the ward’s rooms as they passed, her eyes settling sadly on the ponies that laid within.
Many guardsponies found it unbecoming of the earth pony stallions, the way that they seemed to disparage of engaging the stoicism that defined most of the guard.
Those critics had found themselves flustered over the last two weeks, since the arrival of the ambulance carrying Twilight Sparkle. Celestia had done something atypical… she had directly interfered with routine guardspony business.
The moment she heard the first descriptions of what happened she’d had these two lower ranked guardsponies put into her personal guard rotation.
There was much talk about it in the garrison and around the barracks. Many wondered why she’d asked for them, considering how quiet, how introspective she’d become the second she had first laid eyes on Twilight’s unmoving body. Reflection had settled across the alicorn as she’d pressed her lips to Twilight’s forehead, as the tears began to run down her cheeks.
Then again, many theorized, these two stallions were exactly what she needed at this moment. Maybe the Princess of the Sun needed to hear voices, to have someponies near her who simply refused to shut up.
“My lady?” asked Morning Mist as he looked for a clock, hoping that the hour would soon be over. “My lady, you hang your brow. Do your thoughts hold you down?”
“Lest you be dragged down farther, Majesty,” began Simple Script, “is there nothing we can do for you? Even though I had hoped that things would go better for you, my Princess, in that room, did it not? Inasmuch as we can, our lady knows we are happy to help.”
Celestia’s hooves slowed, and soon she stood there, her mane floating. As the sounds of a hospital ward moved around them, rolling carts, medical talk, drawers sliding open, the ancient sovereign slowly turned her head to face them. As she did, the two guardsponies bowed.
They were dutiful, concerned stallions, made of all the firm stuff one expected from those who served in the armor of the two Sister Sovereigns of Equestria. They had done all that becoming a trusted Royal Guard involves.
They just didn’t shut up.
“Thank you, Silent Script,” she said, not bothering to mention his rank. “That means a great deal to me. I feel that I shall have to call upon you both soon enough.”
Their eyes flashed to one another, and then back to her.
“It… it did not go poorly, in the hospital room, to answer your question,” she said, lifting her head to gaze around the ward. “I simply had to do something that I’d rather not have done.”
Her eyes coasted up and down the ward. It was finely appointed, looking very much like a fine hotel. The doctors and nurses here were some of the best in Canterlot, if not Equestria. Yet, for all of the superlatives, she knew this place. She’d watched it evolved from a House of Healing centuries ago… one meant for a single purpose.
“The West Wind Annex for the Treatment and Care of Magically Enchanted and Unresponsive” read the brass letters above the door.
That was its name, at least on the letterhead, and it made her shudder.
Forgive me, Spike, she thought to herself as she looked down the hallway. Behind each door lay one of her children, one of her little ponies, locked inside curses, enchantments, and magical afflictions that had drawn them off to some other place, or locked them inside their own minds.
Celestia drew a long sigh. Twilight was here now, and she knew why, and it made her shudder at the lies she’d just draped across a little boy.
Forgive me, Spike, she said, swallowing hard, but she cannot wake up, not by herself. If she is ever to leave this place…
She re-read the sign, and the nickname that adhered to it flew through Celestia’s mind, the one whispered by nurses and doctors in their private moments…
… its real name, The Ward of the Living Dead.
Her head went low as she left the ward, and her suddenly very silent guards followed her.
A new stack of glasses arrived, some still wet with steam and a few rolling drops of condensation.
Spike helped Pacemaker lift them into the high cabinet over the sink, handling each gently. Spike placed each one deliberately, doing his best to feel them settle as he put them in their place.
He wished the stallion good night.
Comfort brought in the compress, and together the dragon and the nurse began the nightly ritual. Spike looked away as she checked the sheets for any messes, and finding none they went about their new tradition.
Spike held Twilight’s head, lifting it gently, tenderly lifting the hair of her mane out of the way. He held the two moist compresses to Twilight’s eyes, and soon Comfort passed him the gauze. Together they wound it around and around, and then settled Twilight’s head once more upon the pillow.
Twilight’s eyes would be safe the whole night through. The artificial tears dripped down her face, as though mourning her inability to produce her own. The sight of it made Spike very quiet… very quiet indeed.
There were a few more little motions, the nurse finishing her shift and filling out papers, the dragon simply shifting back and forth, keeping his watch. His head rested in his arms, lying next to Twilight.
Spike’s eyes fell to the stand next to the bed. The crown stood there, just where he had placed it that first day, that first horrible day when he had come to her side for the first time. His hands had shook, and some small part of him that had envisioned her leaping back to consciousness as the crown came near had died an agonizing death as she continued to lay there quietly, lifting the crisp sheets with tiny breaths.
His eyes moved slightly, to the tall glass and the cool water within. The last rays of the day fell through the window, and as they did their reflection through the glass faded.
For yet another day, she had not claimed the rainbow he had brought her.
Twilight had not woken up, and now her eyes were bandaged in preparation for yet another night. She could not have witnessed the rainbow he’d carefully provided for her even if there had been one to see.
“Spike?” came Comfort’s voice, interrupting a long, hoarse sigh that lifted from him as he stared over the glass.
“Y-yeah?” he answered, turning his body to look up at her.
Her foreleg was raised, her hoof held before him. Comfort’s mark was alive inside her, and her name hovered there with her invitation. “Heh,” Spike said, and then the whelp stepped forward into her offered hug.
He’d been hugged by Comfort, by Celestia…
… but neither felt like Twilight. The aura of safety, warmth, of familiarity that came with her hugs was absent.
He couldn’t say that it didn’t feel good, though.
“Please,” she said, raising her head and looking down at him, “do try to go out for breakfast tomorrow. You know that I’ll call you first thing if there is any sign that she’s coming out of it. You know that.”
“Yeah,” he said, parting from her. “Yeah, I know you will. Thanks. I’ll try. I really, really will.”
As Comfort turned away she saw him beginning to build his nest, to remove the blankets and cushions from the couch. Her statement ran around in her head, that she would tell him first if there was any change.
It was a lie. She was obligated to tell her immediate family first, the law said so.
But, it had brought him solace to say so. It had brought him comfort.
But a lie it was.
The nurse went to her station and began to check out, conferring with the nurses who would keep watch over the ward as night settled around Canterlot, the last few streaks of light falling through the spires of the city outside.
Back in the room, Spike finished building his little futon, his nest next to her bed. He clicked on the light, and its magic illuminated a small sphere around the two beds as he reached into the drawer of the nightstand.
He pulled out a book, wobbling unsteadily as his feet caught in the blanket. He fought both its weight and also the tiredness that sought even harder to claim him as the darkness and quiet grew around them.
“Precepts of Innovational Magic Theory”, he read, “Chapter Twelve: Foundational Structures of Higher Magical Conversion.”
He looked up to her from his little settee, a weak smile on his face. This was one of her favorite chapters.
He struggled through some of the words, saying them phonetically, explanatorily… even just making them up. Yet, he still tried his hardest, just as he had for the last twelve nights.
No one had told him that he should read to her, and that surprised him. Surely, all of the movies and stories said that he should… didn’t that count for something?
In any case, he read.
He read as best he could, fighting to keep his eyes open, until finally magical substrates revealed themselves as fabrics that could be manipulated in turn with higher practices or something, and he was finally able to close the book’s cover.
He looked up to Twilight. She had not moved. She had not moved, and her eyes sat beyond the white compresses and gauze.
His expression dropped as he slipped the book back into the drawer of the nightstand. He adjusted the glass, the crown, and the few small items that sat nearby. He had read, he had brought her cold water, he had taken care of her little possessions.
It was all he knew to do. It was all he could do.
His eyes fell down to her boots. Though he had been that last one to touch them, he adjusted them once again, finding them another perfect line in which to sit.
He sighed heavily as he looked upon them… as his eyes fell over them.
Two. There were only two.
Two still sat back there, back in that horrible place where he had thrown one at that wicked, terrible thing. The both sat there in the dark with that unhappy, nameless…
No, it had a name. He knew its name now. He had that small power over it.
“Pillar of the Sun,” he breathed, the words falling out of him with a hiss from between his teeth. “The Pillar of the Sun,” he repeated.
“I hate you,” he whispered. “I hate you, hate you... hate you.”
Pain swam across Spike’s claws. He looked at them to discover that he had been balling them so tight that he was hurting himself. He looked at his hands, felt his own fangs sitting exposed upon his face. “I hate you, forever,” he whispered, and then forced the tide of emotions to drain from his body.
He tiptoed across the room, and as he had every night he looked up and down the corridor. Only the night nurse sat at the far desk, and no noises or movement came from the other eleven rooms in the wing. It was dark, save for the one light in Twilight’s room. It remained silent and still as night air crept in from some window beyond, settling up and down the hallways on soft currents.
He tiptoed to the far side of the room, not knowing why.
“Twilight?” he asked.
His head came up, making sure that no one was near. If they knew that he was doing this, they’d think him insane. They’d think he had truly been traumatized, had become unstable.
He’d have no way to deny them. Still, he tried once again.
“Twilight? Twilight, please wake up,” he asked, holding her hoof between his hands. He held her hoof with one hand, stroked it with the other.
“Twilight? Twi, you can wake up now, we’re far away from it,” he said, repeating his refrain. “Twilight?”
She did not move.
“Twilight, Twi, Princess Celestia says it’s called the Pillar of the Sun, and now… now we know that, okay?”
She did not move.
“Twi? Twi, please,” he whimpered.
Spike lowered his head, touched his to hers. He laid his forehead to hers, nuzzled against her.
“Twi, please wake up. Please, Twi.”
Nothing.
“Please… please, Twi…”
The scent of night air drifted around the room, and in the hallway soft music began to lift from the nurse’s station. It was soft, lilting, like music played in places where music was a distraction, not the focus. The music bobbled along, catching around the unhearing ears of the twelve ponies entombed in the Ward of the Living Dead…
… and the little ghost who held his vigil.
Spike ran the back of his arm across his eyes, wiping the water away.
He smoothed the sheets, never releasing her hoof as he did. He teetered a bit, reaching for the light. As it flicked off he slid from her bed, searching for his own little pile of cushions and blankets with one of his feet, dangling it around until the claws caught in soft fabric.
“Good night, Twi,” he breathed, stroking her hoof one last time before placing it back beneath the sheets. “Sleep tight.”
He buried himself in his blankets, lifted his eyes to look at the immobile form upon the bed once again, and then finally settled down, drifting off into the same troubled dreams that had plagued him for two weeks.
In those dreams, Twilight stared back at him from beneath a sheet of water, and he could do nothing.
The ward fell silent, save for the music drifting and bobbing on the night air that drifted over the sleepers from places unseen.
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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
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Well. Fuck.
Dunno what else to say...
~Skeeter The Lurker
What is the secret in your writing? Could you give me some tips?
Wait, so Seaponies now?
What's Celestia's plan? What's Spike gonna do? When will he take the walk?
The next chapter...
I wonder how the seapony/mermaid 'can't really tell since it has hands' is involved in all of this.
That first part, I'm guessing a young sea serpent.
Morning Mist and Silver Script are great.
I wonder what lies we're talking about. It not being her cutie mark, perhaps?
What worse Celestia, putting Twilight in a place no one would wish to be or not telling Spike what you know?
And that guilt trip. Damn, that most have to have sucked to play that card.
Wow. You are amazing.
Spike's devotion is touching if not inspiring.
There is still a sense of sadness, and yet...
That opening; that great, big but; and those guards.
Highly entertaining.
Also, I sense that the adventure is about to start. I shall eagerly await the next update!
2987655 Not sea ponies, she had a hand so unless that was a mistake it's more likely a siren or possibly a mermaid, or maybe it's just a really weird sea pony with hands...
2988063 But she also has a coat. I mean, can you imagine a mermaid wearing a jacket? I think that'd weirder than a seapony with hands.
Well... This is... Something... Just how... Just how far are you willing to Spike? I was in your position too man. I know how you feel, though someone was there to explain it to me, Celestia is there, she can explain.
2988076 I just had to point it out, your almost defiantly right but just to be silly she could have a coat of scales or be a very furry woman? Lol
2988150 She also has a muzzle. Add that to your image.
Fantastic chapter.
I'm liking the story and the build up, but when is the walk. I came expecting some badass Spike instead I got hit with feels and some deep character development. I love Spike's devotion and feel for the little guy, but his level of devotion creeps me out sometimes; that may just be me. Anyway good writing and excellent Celestia guilt trip; can't wait for more.
Hmm, wonder what creature the was at the beginning?
So, it's called the Pillar Of The Sun?
Guess Spike needs to find the Pillar Of The Moon then.
Wish I could like and favourite every chapter over and over.
2987655 Sirens, babe. Sirens
2988378 Yeah, but she also has a muzzle and a coat. Sounds more like a pony than a mermaid.
2988189 Ohhhhh thats creepy... I curse you for putting that image in my head.
2988303
"if the book of the dead can bring someone back to life..."
Dude... I love ya man. This story is awesome. I love reading it. I don't know what makes me love it so much. Maybe how deep and where this could possibly be going? I don't know but keep it up. Also you are a really good writer if my previous comments didn't bring that across.
Maybe a brook horse?
Interesting that you approach the name of that construct as you would call a geographic landscape, or an aspect. That you give to the name, a pillar, by context, by its name, so many evocative images and meanings in it. That you chose to use the word sins of all things, to describe an act. Again, a very interesting choice of words.
I still think, and purely by speculation, yet looking into the patterns of wordplay that what you have done. That spike, and by extension, twilight, have stumbled upon a creation myth (in it being un-recorded) based upon a kind of spiritual sacrifice. A soul has power, an alicorns soul, representing the foundations of all equines, would exude power to be taken. A pillar of the world, a creation not by equines or maybe so, such is only left to those whom that time would have seen it being created. Or mayhap anything beyond an elder being. Its words in the previous chapter, its tone, its inevitability, yet to say other words. And one other item, a surprising lack of alicorns when you consider that, if twilight was not one, would she have been spared? Power arrives, power flows, but power is never destroyed, it merely changes hands.
Still, very enjoyable story.
well, not many words here
i do have one thing to say, it may just be me, but since the updates came every Friday, we where just waiting, i know i did, i have seen in a couple of stories with "set dates" for releases that if they miss a day the story gets spammed with comments like "where is the update" and "its already x day" but we where just waiting, patiently, in my opinion it almost feels like a sin asking for the update
your story is so good it feels bad asking for more, that has to be a first in FIMFiction
The tears... They will not stop...
When will you stop breaking our hearts?
It's obvious that in Celestia's wild younger days she was worshiped as an unforgiving sun goddess, whose burning ire could be avoided by offering sacrifices. After she got out of that phase (and perhaps after the had to banish Nightmare Moon) she decided to hide all the monuments to her more bloodthirsty self.
Kinky little alicorn had some freaky Aztec thing going on. Naughty Celestia!
Owowowow. The pain. THE FEELS.
Yay a seapony! I haven't read a story with them ages!
And then there was a seapony. Well, a siren, anyway. I'm assuming they're similar to seaponies. A welcome addition to the cast, in any case. If I can't have The Abyssal Forge, at least another epic adventure novel involving sea-equines has stepped up to fill in for it.
Also, 'The Ward of the Living Dead'. I couldn't help but shudder when I read that. It must be one of the most depressing places on the planet, and you're doing a very good job of selling it as such, so far. Poor Spike. Hopefully, getting out and seeing Joe again will do him some good.
...why...do I get the feeling that Celestia knows of a way to save Twilight, but in doing so, she'd wind up bringing about something best left buried. And worse, you know Spike's going to go for it, even if she won't. She's going for least influence route as well too. That's the bit that'll kill us, she wants Twilight back too, but this will likely mean the end of Spike...or perhaps...a change in him so profound, there won't be any going back.
I can only wait in anticipation. Great work so far!
Amazing as ever. Aaagh, what's gonna happen next?
I wonder when the actual adventure will start.
Because, so far, there's only 30,000 words of a pathetic Spike and an enigmatic fish-eater.
i1344.photobucket.com/albums/p652/ccrwashere/100_zpsaef32318.jpg
2987571Fair enough...
That music... I wonder if the nurse could hear him.
2997758 Nah, I'd rather pretend it didn't exist at all.
2987571
...
I think that just about covers it, actually...
2987640
The first thing I have to say is plan. Plan, plan, plan. Know exactly what your character is doing, what they are going to achieve, and when they are going to achieve it. Know the last line of the story when you start pre-writing. This gives you a chance to place all of the neat little things that make a story engaging. I hope that helps!
2987655
I have to break Spike down before his adventure can truly begin... and there's a horrible secret to be revealed first. Then, I promise, we'll get Spike on the road!
2987798
I'll let you all know who she is in time, I promise!
2987873
Spike certainly isn't the only character who this story is going to be hard on. I'd tell you more, but that would ruin the surprise.
2988051
I'm very glad that you enjoyed the chapter. I have to break Spike down a little bit before I can end him on his journey. I promise that getting to that point will be interesting, though!
2988104
Though Celestia may have reasons not to explain, hmmm?
2988265
Thanks! I'm glad taht you enjoyed it!
2988288
I have to break Spike down to the point where he's willing to do some things he usually wouldn't consider before going on his journey. So, the actual journey is planned to start at chapter 14, but I promise that getting there will be worth the trip!
2988303
There are quite a few details about the creatures that inhabit this work, and the ancient histories that support it, that I'd love to tell you, but I can't without spoiling the work!
2988306
I wish that you could, too!
2988385
More appropriate music!
2988467
I'm very happy that you are enjoying this work!
2988475
Oh! Neat guess!
2988657
The use of epic language allows a writer to try many different things, and suggest many different aspects of an object or element without giving too much away. I'm glad that you are able to see that in this work.
There are surprisingly few alicorns indeed, and this story tells us about the alicorns in a way that I know I have not seen in other works.
2989018
I was at BronyCon, and as such I was up late and didn't get around to updating the story until later than usual. I promise that we are going back to our regular updating this week!
2989088
I will stop breking your heart at chapter 12... and will start making you angry instead.
2989110
That's one possible explanation!
2989428
The feels indeed!
2989827
A seapony, or something very similar.
2990558
I'm afraid that I don't quite understand, but I hope you're not disappointed with the work.
2990633
I am glad that I "sold it". I'm certainly looking forward to seeing what reactions are of my oldest readers when Spike visits Joe and we get to revisit the setting we last saw in A Cup of Joe!
2990799
Indeed!
2990806
All that I'm going to say about your comment, my friend, is that you are very, very close!
2990968
2991860
Hopefully, more amazing!
2992713
There's been a filly suffering torture, too.
A griffon hen wondering about her place in the world.
Oh, and an ancient construct of darkness. That too.
The thing is, I have to break Spike down. I have to put him in a position where he does things that make it so that he can go on his journey... and that it makes sense that he "goes it alone". I also have to let the audience know certain things first. I hope that you'll understand that as the work unfolds.
So, if we're speaking literally, he decides to go on the journey in chapter 13, and it begins in 14. I hope you'll stay with the work until then.
2993528
In what way, Merc?
2997792
Probably not. She listens to that damn radio all the time during her shift.
2999940 The nature of words, their intent, their meaning, their spirit, and how they shape perception is something I enjoy to look at. The name and the way, is something magical. And how the choice of such expression changes with but a single passage or phrase shows that truth. But thank you for the reply. How each chapter will be is of great interest, herrings and not in each, and in replies.
2999959 Last saw in A Cup of Joe, or last saw in Certain Advantages?
2999940
...oh boy...
2999959
It has fins, so its close enough for me.
2999940
Poor Spike... and poor Celestia.