• Published 31st Jul 2017
  • 5,281 Views, 339 Comments

Spectrum of Lightning - Seriff Pilcrow



Dive into the secret past of Twilight Velvet—mother of the Princess of Friendship—as she embarks on her first guns-blazing adventure with the Whip-Cracking Crusader. Volume 1 of Daring Did: Tales of an Adventurer's Companion

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Chapter 7: Secret Keeper

One little peek had turned into a perusal of indeterminable span.

As Spike turned the journal to another page, he set it down, allowing all that he had read to simmer in his mind. As far as reading material went, it was surprisingly entertaining for what was ostensibly private ramblings in a diary. No wonder Twilight Sparkle had a knack for the written word; must be a family thing.

“Are you for real?” he muttered as he closed the book and eyed the aged cover. His gut told him "yes," but his mind couldn't get over just how far-fetched the notion of Velvet associating with Daring was. Surely there was a rational explanation.

Maybe this was Velvet's attempt at making a quick buck by making her own Daring Do books. It certainly wouldn't be the first time A.K. Yearling allowed other ponies to use her intellectual property, as the disastrous Daring Do and the Corundum Skull Conundrum movie could attest.

Maybe Velvet was just a fan of the Daring Do series, and this journal was her elaborate self-insert fanfiction. Spike chuckled at that thought; Daring Do and the World's Bravest DragonKnight was proof that he wasn't exactly innocent in that regard.

The investigation was cut short by a growl rising from his stomach and tickling his throat. “Oh,” he muttered. “Must be a letter from Twilight's mom.” This time around, the sensation wasn't much of a bother. It was just one piece of paper, after all, not an entire book. Spike got up and stretched his muscles just as he hiccuped a small flame, a piece of paper materializing on the wall. After scratching his belly, Spike picked up the letter and stretched it out.

Sparky,

We're on our way back. You and your dragon friend better get yourselves ready to head out.

Oh, and I don't have to remind you about this, Sparky, but no snooping around the attic! That's where your father keeps his secret magazines, but don't tell him I told you that.

“Dang it!” whispered Spike. He tossed the letter onto the floor and opened the window. Shielded from the sun by his claws, his eyes caught two shapes—one gray and one blue—walking down the sidewalk. He squinted, hoping to himself that Velvet had sent the message while they were still far off from home.

No such luck. A distinctive striped purple mane came into focus.

Spike shut the window, hoping Velvet hadn't spotted him. He darted his head around before his eyes gravitated back to Velvet's journal, still lying on the floor near the pillow.

He sighed. “We'll talk later.”

His mind kicked into high gear. Spike dragged the pillow back to where he found it, then ran back to the journal and dog-eared the page where he stopped. Twilight would have given him a stern half-hour-long tirade for defacing a book like that—a tirade that would eventually go off on a grueling tangent about the effects of compressive stress on paper fibers.

Spike then slid the journal under a shelf. Leaving books under furniture, like dog-eared pages, was yet another lecture-worthy crime. But Spike didn't have time to think about that. Slamming the attic door behind him, Spike raced down the stairs and into the living room, his heart pounding in harmony with his feet.

“Whoa, Spike!” Twilight called out from the sofa and cocked her head as Spike stopped in front of her, panting. It was as if she hadn't moved from her lounging posture on the couch. “What's the rush?”

“Y-your…mom is…” Spike stopped, then sucked in a breath.

The door flew open.

“Oh, Sparky, we're home!” a perky voice called out from the front door. “Hope you didn't bore yourself to death while waiting!” Keeping her eyes off her mother, Twilight pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows as Velvet sauntered into the living room, Night Light tailing behind. “Ready to head to the library?”

“Yes, Mother,” Twilight said, taking her time getting off the couch.

Spike followed the mares out the door, eyeing Twilight's father as he closed the door behind them. “Hope we didn't keep you waiting too long, Twilight,” Night Light said as he closed the door behind the mares.

“It's fine, Dad.” Twilight smiled. “I got some reading done. Besides, we have the rest of the day! Maybe if we finish up in the library quickly, we can have ourselves a real family outing.”

Velvet chuckled. “What? You don't want to spend more time at the library? Who are you and what have you done with the real Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight reacted by lowering her head and flattening her ears. Her face wasn't visible from behind, but Spike felt a low exasperated grumble vibrate through the air.

“Now, now.” Velvet bumped her daughter's shoulder. “If there's one thing I know about my little Sparky, it's that she loves to wolf down hayburgers. Whaddya say we head to the Burger Palace and verify your identity?”

Twilight raised her head slightly and looked at Velvet. “Sure… and thanks, Mom.”

Spike quickened his pacing somewhat to catch up with the ponies, trailing behind Velvet as Twilight brought her father up to speed with her role as Princess of Friendship and her new castle. Built on a mountainside, Canterlot didn't have as many cars moving through the streets, meaning that the roads were quiet enough for Spike to hear himself think. Twilight had been scouring her few surviving books for days—some of them without sleep—looking for any clue to the nature of her castle, but so far, she'd turned up nothing. Part of the reason they were in Canterlot in the first place was to find more information that could shed some light on the subject. Spike didn't have to shield his eyes from the sun to tell that Twilight had bags under her eyes. It was a wonder she hadn't dozed off on the couch earlier.

His eyes drifted towards Velvet. Something about her body struck him as…off, especially compared with what he'd just read in the past several minutes. Far from the chubby mare in her journal, Velvet's body was sleek and well-built, the various contours of muscles coursing throughout her frame revealing themselves when Spike squinted slightly. If it weren't for the color of the fur and the lack of wings, Spike would have sworn he was looking at Rainbow Dash.

Velvet turned to interject a remark as Twilight recounted her fight with Tirek. Whatever the remark was, Spike didn't hear it. His attention was drawn to something else.

A thin scar on Velvet's right cheek.

There was also another, more rounded scar on one of her hind legs, plus one more on her front leg, just barely visible from behind. Spike put two and two together, his jaw falling open.

All of a sudden, the idea of Twilight's mom having a dark past didn't seem so far-fetched.

Excuse me, Mr. Dragon.”

“Oh!” Spike tapped his claws together and glanced at the sidewalk momentarily before facing Velvet. “Oh right, sorry about that! Just…admiring the scenery!”

Wait…

Spike slapped himself in the face.

Meanwhile, Velvet snickered, then flicked her tail. “You uncouth bachelor!” she said in the nobles’ distinctive Equish. “I’ve already found my mate! Hmph!” As she trotted away, she pointed her nose in the air, leaving Spike to quicken his pace again. She gave him one last wink before rejoining Twilight and Night Light’s conversation.

Grimacing at himself, Spike kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. Smooth moves, you blockhead.


Night had fallen in the Sparkle household. Having stockpiled enough books to fill the new castle's library—and watched Twilight wolf down three hayburgers—Spike was ready to head back to Ponyville. He and Twilight missed the last train, though, and had to stay the night in the Sparkle house. After brushing up, Twilight hurried to her childhood bed—managing to squeeze into it despite her Alicorn growth—and wasted no time settling into the covers and closing her eyes.

Spike, still as a rock, stared at the dark ceiling.

Should he tell Twilight? She had the right to know, but she'd been so busy the past few days. She didn't need more on her plate. But still...

Spike took the journal from under the covers of his basket and stared at its silhouette, illuminated only by moonlight. Earlier, after dinner, he sneaked back to the attic and took the journal from the bottom of the shelf. The journal was lighter than Meadowbrook's Translated Corpus, but Spike felt it weighing heavily on him like a succubus. It was taunting him, prodding him to read through it all and let Velvet's dark past out into the world…or at least, out to her daughter.

Spike climbed out of the bed, moving slowly so the shuffling of the fabrics over each other made less sound, and sneaked towards Twilight, the rumble of her snoring reverberating through the room. Another thought stopped him before he could give in to the temptress's wiles.

There was probably a good reason Velvet wanted to hide these journals away… Well, aside from the fact that they were private diaries.

Maybe he should read a little more before telling Twilight. For research purposes. Yeah.

Plan A was to read the journal on his basket while everyone was asleep. Having left his flashlight in Ponyville, though, Spike had to make do with Plan B. He steadily opened the door and closed it behind him, barely a creak from the hinges. He flicked the lights on. His eyes throbbed as they were drowned in a dazzling white light.

“Agh!” Spike suppressed the shout; he didn't want his voice to leak out the door and into the bedroom.

When his eyes had adjusted to the brightness, Spike took one of the rugs, climbed onto the sink, and turned it into a facsimile of his own basket. "Not as soft as the real thing, but as the DaBalleron folks say on the Daring Do forums, if it fits, it ships...or 'sits,' in this case."

Dear Journal,

So…this is the adventurer's life, huh? Sitting inside a buffalo teepee, bandaging wounds, cleaning blood from your horn after stabbing somepony with it…

And here I was, thinking that archeology was all about brushing broken pieces of pottery. Don't tell Daring I said that, though: she'll probably go on another one of her tirades about how she's the exception to the rule.

But enough of that. How did Daring and I get into this situation in the first place? We left Canterlot for the San Palomino Desert a few days ago. After getting off a train station, we headed off-road and traveled for Celestia-knows-how-long across the desert, Daring pointing the way.

It's times like these I'm glad I've had someone like Evy at my side.

I miss her already.