Double Trouble: The Flaws Within

by Masterius

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Sunset Shimmer’s ears flattened in pure annoyance as she stood at the threshold. Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look back.

“I’m sorry, Miss Shimmer. But if you’re going to insist on ignoring your physicians’ orders, then we’ll be going with you.”

Drat!

Normally, and under most any other circumstances, Sunset Shimmer would have no trouble, no trouble at all, disabusing the notions of such officiousness. Granted, not, ahhh…in the creative, inimitable fashion she had been known for, mind you. Nevertheless, still doing so in a fashion absolutely fascinating to observe.

However, although Crescent’s simple, unvarnished words might be grating and irritating…his tone most certainly was not.

“Crescent,” Sunset Shimmer sighed, marefully ignoring—mostly—the heated flush his voice had ignited, “It’s broad daylight outside. And the Canterlot Library of Magic isn’t, exactly, a hop, trot, and wink away. Nor is it, ummmm…”

“Unoccupied?” Crescent unhelpfully suggested.

This time her ears flattened completely in pure anger as she pivoted about on hooves to face him. “It’s not a laughing matter!” she growled.

Crescent and Harvest exchanged a glance so rapid that Sunset Shimmer was not sure she had actually seen it, before Harvest conceded, “I suppose not. But we are Nocturne: Princess Luna’s personal Guards. Our pride in that makes everything else immaterial.”

Sunset Shimmer felt fatigue and weakness suddenly wash over her; her knees wobbled, then buckled. Before she could even begin collapsing, two strong and very muscled forms were supporting her, pressing against her sides. Now, while this had the salubrious effect of keeping her from muzzle-planting the floor, along with that contact—especially the one on her right side, which, just incidentally, mind you, was the side Crescent was—came an abrupt increase of blood pressure and temperature.

My face has to look like a beet! she fretted.

“You seem to be getting along quite well with my Guards.”

Cyan eyes flying wide open, Sunset Shimmer jerked her head towards the door…the now open door.

Alas, open did not mean unoccupied: standing there, flanked by two familiar-looking senior physicians, was Princess Luna, whose lips twitched just the slightest as their eyes met.

Based upon the thermal intensity of her cheeks, her face was quite likely blending in rather nicely with the crimson stripes of her mane!

“Honestly, Your Highness,” Sunset Shimmer reassured…again. “I’m fine.” Ignoring the low snort from the physicians, she gamely forged on. “Yes, I’m weak. And yes, my magic is still gone. But my mind is still sharp. I can still think, and reason, and research. I might not be the same caliber as Princess Twilight, true, but I’m no slouch, either. I can’t—I just can’t!—lounge around in a sickbed while Princess Celestia is still…is still…”

She could not go on; her throat was so tightened with grief she could not force out words.

Her head jerked up, Sunset Shimmer instantly gazing at The Princess of The Night at hearing her gusty sigh. “Your physicians—and yes, Sunset Shimmer, they are now your physicians, too; you might as well accept that now, and with good graces to boot, for on this matter I will brook no argument—would prefer you to remain on bedrest.” Luna’s right brow lifted a bit as Sunset Shimmer mulishly scowled. “While you profess to have ‘just a flesh wound’.”

Sunset Shimmer flushed again, ears flagging a moment. Gazing directly into Luna’s eyes she avowed, “Your Highness, as much as I might wish to do so, I can’t diminish the seriousness of my condition. I’m ailing, and I know it. But, again—and with all due respect—ailing is not the same as incapacitated. I have to try. I have to. There’s something niggling at the edge of my consciousness, something that feels like it may be the answer.”

Holding up a forehoof to forestall any replies, Sunset Shimmer emphasized, “Please don’t ask me to explain that, because I can’t. It’s just a feeling.”

“This is what We shall do, then,” and it wasn’t just Sunset Shimmer who instantly braced at Princess Luna’s tone. Sunset Shimmer swallowed, licking dry lips as she finally came muzzle-to-muzzle with the power of a Royal Command. “You will have two hours—no more,” and Sunset Shimmer was not about to challenge that! “You will be escorted by two Solari and two Nocturne. You will go direct to the Canterlot Library of Magic, and return directly here afterwards. And should Mine Nocturne discern a need for thy speedier return, thou whilst obey them. Understood?”

Sunset Shimmer’s head nodded so rapidly she resembled a bobble-head doll, never even considering arguing that restriction, and doubly so when Princess Luna’s voice had abruptly shifted, becoming quite archaic with her last injunction.

“We realize that this may be a burden and inconvenience to thee,” Luna continued—and was that a twinkle in those cyan depths?—“but, prithee, do try and tolerate Crescent and Harvest as thy escorts.”

---

It was the whispering that first started the slow ascent to consciousness. Different voices. Different tones. Some strident, some firm, some placating…and one so soft, so delicate, yet countenancing no argument.

“I know it’s important that Twilight goes to Canterlot,” that gentle voice murmured. “But she needs rest, too!”

Halfway roused, she lightly fidgeted, feeling very torpid yet very, very relaxed. And that was so unlike her. Sleep was her enemy: it robbed her of useful research time, and, worse—much worse—it left her helpless and defenseless. She did not like the necessity of sleep but she had to accept it nonetheless. But if she simply had to sleep, she had also trained herself to instantly wake up.

Which she was not doing this time.

Twilight felt very lethargic, but, oddly enough, also felt very good. Very nice. Wriggling a little, she tried burrowing closer under the blankets.

“Now look what you meanies have done!” that gentle voice scolded. “You’ve gone and woken her!”

Sheltered beneath a wing, Twilight’s eyes popped open as she abruptly surged fully awake in the dark of that concealment. Her head might still be gently throbbing from the lump at the back, but otherwise she felt amazingly refreshed.

“Did you have a nice nap?” It grew a bit brighter as Fluttershy peeped under her wing and smiled at her. “I’m sorry we woke you,” she apologized.

“Actually, Fluttershy,” Twilight frankly and ungrudgingly announced, “I don’t think I’ve slept that well in a very long time. Thank you.”

Carefully maneuvering, Fluttershy rose to her hooves before stretching then refolding her wings, settling them in place, a shy yet pleased expression on her face. “You’re very welcome.”

Rising to her own hooves, Twilight stretched her legs, one at a time, then—much as Fluttershy had done—fully outstretched her wings, giving a huge yawn as she refolded them to her side. She was never aware of doing so, her body simply doing what was, after all, completely natural.

And then froze as she caught sight of the room—and the utter destruction within—once again.

“Don’t.”

It was just a single word, but it instantly grabbed Twilight’s attention. Her head jerked to the side, as she then found herself gazing right into Fluttershy’s eyes.

“Don’t,” she repeated once again, then, “Come with me. Now,” she firmly repeated, as Twilight started balking. Well, started preparing to balk, that is; before she could begin shaking her head in refusal, Fluttershy’s gentle, timorous voice had altered; grown firmer. Neither strident nor demanding, it was still delicate and demure. Just also, now…firm.

“That’s it. Just like that. Come with me.”

Fluttershy began backing out of the room, her eyes never leaving Twilight’s. And, to her great surprise, Twilight felt herself, once step at a time, following her.

Spike, Applejack, Doctor Horse, and Nurse Redheart were taken aback, startled and stunned, having no idea what Fluttershy was intending, or, for that matter, was doing. They had simply been discussing the pros (the necessity of answering Princess Luna’s grave summons) and cons (the requirement of Twilight getting essential therapeutic and recuperative rest and medication) of waking Twilight, when their negotiations apparently had the decision taken out of their hooves. But nothing they had been discussing had involved Twilight leaving this room; a room which Twilight had incontrovertibly proclaimed she was not vacating. Nor, for that matter, would she be moving anywhere else.

Yet, now Fluttershy was leading Twilight towards the doorway, with the obvious intention of continuing out and into the hallway to who-knew-where?

Spike suddenly snapped his talons, leaping up to his paws before slowly padding to the door, a murmured, “Go left,” to Fluttershy in passing. Racing down the corridor, he stopped at the first servant he found. “Clear the hallways from Twilight’s bedroom to Guestroom C,” he ordered, then continued on his way.

“Follow me,” he demanded of the next two Castle staff, both of them following Spike as he trotted off. Once at the guest room, Spike took a quick visual appraisal. “Remove, for now, this, this, this…,” he instructed, indicating anything looking excessively fragile, delicate, or—as Rainbow Dash would call it—‘Chi-chi frou-frou’. He did not have the room stripped bare, but almost anything that was not purely necessary or functional was to be removed. He did leave some of the artwork and accessories; curtains and rugs as well. “Summon any help you need,” Spike finished as he turned to leave. “But this has to be finished in five minutes.”

Half-a-minute later, he slowed to a stop alongside Fluttershy, who was quietly murmuring to Twilight as they stood together in the hallway just outside the devastated bedroom. Catching Fluttershy’s attention, Spike silently gestured to her, indicating the two of them to follow along.

Why isn’t she terrified? Why isn’t she petrified with fear, with terror? Why isn’t she running away, shrieking in horror and revulsion, from me? From the monster I’ve become?

Twilight could not, simply could not, tear her gaze from Fluttershy’s. Part of that was indisputably magic, of that she was sure. But she was just as positive much, if not most, was simply Fluttershy herself. Her eyes were full of kindness, brimming with sympathy and understanding, compassion and empathy. But, no matter how deeply she delved, Twilight could not discern even the barest hint of pity.

Fluttershy shared with Twilight, not for her.

She was aware of Fluttershy tenderly murmuring to her. Aware, yes, but not truly comprehending any of the words. Gradually, Twilight started relaxing, her self-loathing, her innermost fears almost imperceptibly sublimating. First one step, then another, she began following Fluttershy, who was slowly pacing backwards down the hallway.

It was not until Fluttershy was standing in the doorway of another room that Twilight hesitated, coming to a complete stop. And, as she did, she slowly grew more alert, more aware of her surroundings. Shaking her head, Twilight took a step backwards, then froze once more as Fluttershy, her voice soft, gentle, and kind, coaxed, “It’s OK. Take as much time as you need.” Then she flat-out stunned Twilight by adding, “You don’t have to, you know. Come inside, that is.”

Then why did you bring me here all this way? a detached part of her mind grumbled and complained, as Twilight felt the soporific effects of her nap, and of Fluttershy’s voice, begin wearing off.

Fluttershy simply waited, neither pressuring nor caving. In fact, she finally understood, Fluttershy was waiting until Twilight finally did get her hooves—mental and emotional as well as physical—under her, before proceeding. “You don’t have to,” she repeated. “But you’ll feel better if you do.”

Soft gasps chorused behind her as Twilight’s ears flattened, as her tail angrily whisked. And you think you know what’s better for me, do you? You don’t even know me!

A brief flicker of fear flashed across Fluttershy’s face, a flicker so brief it was more perceived than seen. And then, to Twilight’s utter shock and amazement, Fluttershy took two steps, closing the distance between them until her nose was so close to Twilight’s their muzzle hairs tickled each other’s.

“You hate yourself every time you look around that room,” she so-softly stated. “Not hate what happened; not hate what you did. Yourself. You hate yourself. You can’t possibly start healing, begin regaining composure and control, when you’re living in a room that heart-stabs you so.”

“And what stops me from doing the same, here?” she bitterly responded.

“Honestly?” Fluttershy replied. “Nothing.” Before Twilight could even begin composing a reply, she continued, “But I think the better question to ask would be ‘Why would I want to do the same’? Don’t you?”

Shifting about until facing the room, barrel to barrel with Twilight, Fluttershy encouraged, “Now, why don’t we go get yourself settled in, before you have to leave for Canterlot?”

---

Sunset Shimmer wanted nothing more than rub an increasingly aching head between her hooves but she did not dare do so. For one thing, her Nocturne guards would be on her like thestrals on durian, thinking she was ailing. For another—and, actually, the most important—reason, she doubted that she could—especially in her weakened condition—disguise that action as anything but her disgust and repugnance with her Solari Guards.

The moment Sergeant Sunbolt and Corporal Lancer had arrived to complete her escort—the other two being Crescent and Harvest—they had spared no effort at conveying their opinions. Regarding Sunset Shimmer: their disdain at the Betrayer; the pony that had hurt, had wounded, their Princess of the Sun so deeply. While regarding Crescent and Harvest: puffed-up, pretentious bat-ponies, pretending to be as skilled, as noble of purpose, as dedicated as the Solari, who had over a thousand year of history and tradition? And who were, not to put too fine a point on it, bat-ponies. Evil creations of Nightmare Moon; the wicked mare of Darkness who, too, had deeply hurt, grievously wounded, their Sun Princess.

In reality, neither Sergeant Sunbolt nor Corporal Lancer had actually said or done anything that pointed. Then again, they did not have to. They must both be frustrated drama actors, Sunset Shimmer mentally groused. They certainly are flamboyant enough!

She was sincerely awed by the restraint Crescent and Harvest were showing. Admittedly, she had next to no experience with thestrals—having only met them this last day—but their composure and demeanor remained cool, calm, and collected, regardless of the insults—thinly veiled or otherwise—hurled their direction. Now, as to those thrown her way? More sensed than seen was a tightness about them during those moments. Oddly enough, Sunset Shimmer realized, was that she was easily dismissing their feeble attempts at provoking her.

Hel-lo, Sunset Shimmer smothered a grin. Nopony can insult, ridicule, or taunt like teenage girls can! And I’ve just spent years on that battlefield!

However, concerning the hostility and disdain being aimed at her Nocturne guards, her anger was smoldering quite nicely. And, adding fuel to that fire, were the attitudes of the ponies they passed on their way to the Canterlot Library of Magic.

Enough is enough, she angrily yet wearily resolved. Coming to a stop, she gustily exhaled.

“Miss Shimmer?” Harvest asked, concern in her voice. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Harvest,” Sunset Shimmer replied, before gusting once again, “I think I just overestimated my strength and resources. Let’s go back, please?”

Sunset Shimmer never heard what was said, but it was patently obvious that Crescent and Harvest had! Rye and barley! Sunset Shimmer shuddered, seeing their expressions. I never—and I mean never!—want them pissed off at me!

“Stop. Now.” Sunset Shimmer growled, fury clear in her voice.

Crescent and Harvest immediately resumed their official, on-duty demeanor while Sunbolt and Lancer, after the first initial shock had worn off, simply gazed at her with a disdainful sneer. Before either of them could dig themselves any deeper…

I never—and I mean never!—want her pissed off at me! Crescent thought, his coat twitching as he and Harvest remained audience to what had to be one of the most painful, most excoriating, tongue-lashings either of them had ever been privileged to witness. Their amusement, however, instantly vanished when Sunset Shimmer revealed the true depths of her anger.

“If either of you, ever again, offer insult, either by word or action, to any thestral, and I wind up hearing about it, I will be meeting you at dawn on the Field of Honor. Am I understood?” she stressed, sealing her vow with a stamp of a forehoof.

She had a moment to realize something felt odd, before her eyes rolled back up into her head as she bonelessly collapsed to the ground.

---

“Try not t’ look at it,” came the lazy drawl.

Twilight looked up from her—purported—meal, softly frowning at Applejack as she did. Against her express wishes, they were bound and determined to feed her. If her stomach had not been audibly growling for some time she might have continued arguing. But it was virtually impossible to convince nosy busybodies that you weren’t hungry and didn’t have an appetite, when you had to speak overtop your own noisy gastrointestinal tract!

It was, she realized, just as impossible to convince herself that lunch was even edible, when the bulk of it looked like a big bowl of grass clippings!

It was just the five of them at the moment, Applejack, Fluttershy, Spike, and Doctor Horse joining her for a late lunch. Except for Spike—and understandably so—each of them had the same large bowl of compost along with tall, opaque mugs of some sort of beverage. Hers, however, was the only mug with a straw, and, after a few awkward attempts at trying to pick it up between her hooves as Applejack and Fluttershy were doing—Spike using his quite dexterous paws, and Doctor Horse levitating his—and after soaking herself with this last attempt, she testily accepted the inevitable and used the straw with her replacement mug.

Her head jerked back at the first sip, eyes rounding in surprise. Carefully lowering muzzle back down and taking the straw once more between her lips, she took a second, cautious sip, coat twitching as the ambrosial elixir filled her mouth. This time, she more slowly lifted her head, finally noticing the four of them grinning at her. Well, with her rather than at her.

“What…what is this?” she asked, awe in her tone. As one, Spike, Fluttershy, and Doctor Horse looked at the stocky, muscled farmpony with them…who looked both shy yet proud. “It’s apple cider…from mah fam’ly’s orchards.”

Well, that certainly explained the pride in her expression. “It’s really very good,” she commented, taking another deep swallow afterwards. She was not saying so to be polite. Twilight had absolutely no time to waste on such trivialities as tact or inane pleasantries. Beating about the bush was not her forte; she was direct and to the point, wasting no time or tact; instead, bluntly calling a spade a spade.

Applejack was, obviously, not aware of that proclivity, but she sensed the honesty and sincerity nonetheless. “Why, thankee thar, Twa…umm, err…Miss Sparkle. Appreciate thet.”

And, while Twilight was equally unfamiliar with Applejack, the soft blush to her cheeks was clear indication of her pleasure and appreciation of the compliment. Which is why, when Applejack had noticed her reticence to even taste her lunch…

Rather than scowling at Applejack’s “helpful suggestion” of Try not t’ look at it , instead, heaving a long-suffering sigh, Twilight closed her eyes then slowly lowered her muzzle. She had not quite reached the “salad” before the scent enveloped her: rich and complex, a wealth of aromas that had her mouth abruptly watering. And when she took a more deliberate, deeper inhale…

Not as fast as she had after the first sip of cider, Twilight raised her head a second time, eyes wide as she gazed down at the clippings in her bowl. And, make no mistake about it, those weren’t any salad greens she was familiar with! These were not leaf, romaine, or iceberg lettuce, nor arugula, spinach, or radicchio. Instead, mixed together were thin stalks ending in thick heads of grain, along with various, unidentifiable types of grass—well, except for clover; that she recognized!—interspersed with small, colorful flowers. It truly did look like straw mixed with grass clippings!

However, it certainly did not smell that way!

Closing her eyes once again, Twilight never noticed the other four pause their meals just to watch her.

Stopping once the thin hair of her muzzle brushed against the greenery, Twilight took several additional exploratory sniffs, each one richer and more complex in aroma than the one preceding. Swiping her lips with the barest tip of her tongue, Twilight finally lipped up the smallest of bites…

The moment she took that first bite, as her jaws ground down…

Texture: the crunch of a stalk, the delicacy of a flower, the graininess of the heads…

Taste: the earthiness of the grain heads, the vibrancy and lushness of the grasses, the sweet spiciness of the flowers…

It was unlike anything she had ever tasted before...could ever have imagined anything could taste like!

Slowly, very slowly and with great deliberation, Twilight chewed that mouthful, hearing as well as feeling—and tasting!—the heads of wheat, oat, and rye being ground between molars; tasting the wealth and complexity of flavors as the lush, fresh timothy, alfalfa, and clover blended with that of the grains.

Slow, gentle smiles spreading as they watched, the other four were enchanted by Twilight’s reactions to her first taste of good-ol’, down-to-Equestria, Ponyville food.

Light shivers rippled her coat; goosebumps danced up and down her hide. Swallowing that bite, Twilight took another mouthful, a bit larger one this time, and softly moaned in unfeigned delight at the subsequent explosion of combined aroma and flavor. There is no way this should taste this good! It’s just grass clipping and compost for goodness sakes! But, for one of the very few times in her life, Twilight chose not to pursue logic but to simply accept perceived reality.

After several bites, she finally parted lips just enough to locate the straw. Taking a sip, the cider blending with the mouthful already there…

Nopony missed the intense shudder that visibly rippled her coat at that.

However, everypony blinked when Twilight focused on them and asked, “Is this normal? Is it drugged? Am I drugged? Has this, or have I, been magicked?”

Before Spike, Applejack, or Doctor Horse could begin thinking of a response to that, Fluttershy burst into giggles. When Twilight grinned back, they suddenly realized that Twilight had been simply joking.

Well, perhaps mostly joking, as Twilight muttered under her breath, obviously not expecting to be overheard, “I can’t believe anything that looks like this can possibly smell or taste this good.”

The five ate in companionable silence, and not until lunch was finished did Spike finally speak up. “Fluttershy? If you’ll stay for a bit, please?” he requested, with the implied dismissal of the other two. Once Applejack and Doctor Horse had left, Spike shifted on his pillow (they had all been seated on cushions on the floor for lunch) and faced the two.

“I’ve already covered Equestrian History,” he began, “but there is other history and knowledge you should know about…”

Twilight patiently—for her, that is—sat through the little…well, little dragon’s…lesson, as he explained about the past relationship between Sunset Shimmer and Princess Celestia—neither of their personalities and histories surprising Twilight at all; as he explained about their Books and how they worked; as he described the Crystal Mirror, and how that worked…or used to work.

As he described how Sunset Shimmer had butted heads with Princess Celestia—how she had chosen self-exile rather than supinely surrender her obvious true place and Destiny in Equestria: deposing Princess Celestia and taking the throne as her own—Twilight felt neither surprise nor sympathy for either. Nor did she feel either emotion as Spike continued, telling her how Sunset Shimmer had returned, had stolen Princess Twilight’s Crown—the one holding the Element of Magic—and taken it back with her to her land of exile, to use for undoubtedly nefarious purposes.

It was obvious to her that Fluttershy was familiar with this fairy tale, and it was a struggle to keep from sighing as the little dragon continued. Twilight—this world’s Twilight, that is—had followed Sunset Shimmer through the Mirror, determined to retrieve her Crown and thus negate whatever fell plans Sunset Shimmer may have schemed.

The little dragon continued the tale with how she had met, and become friends with, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash there. Beings that were perfect, identical-save-for-being-bipedal, analogues of their equivalents here.

Fluttershy, I hope you’ll forgive me one day!

“Fluttershy?” he addressed her. “There’s a very good reason that Twi— Miss Sparkle exploded the way she did earlier today.” Instantly, the temperature of the room changed, neither of them having any idea, nor any expectation, of the direction the conversation had just turned. “You see, in her world…”

Comments

[EchoWing]

Fluttershy's gonna be so sympathetic very shortly...

[Masterius]

10011566

Yep! Fluttershy has a heart of gold, very true. Alas, Miss Sparkle isn’t the easiest pony to deal with.

[EchoWing]

10012613
True, though Fluttershy is doing pretty well so far.