Slice of Strife

by helmet of salvation

6. Seeking answers

The purple unicorn stood in the centre of the room, a time-worn parchment lying flat before her. She grimaced with effort as magical power flowed from her spiral horn. To her side watched a baby dragon, squat, with purple scales, a pale yellow underbelly and green, curved ridges running down his back and tail. His name was Spike. Standing bipedally, his forefeet balled into fists, he pumped his forelegs like the connecting rods on a steam locomotive, trying to drive the pony to success.

A gentle breeze began to swirl around the unicorn. Sparks crackled and spat from the tip of Twilight Sparkle's horn until they formed a point of white light. She grunted, merging her will with the incantation written on the parchment. Wind, voice, words, will—all gathered and intensified into a blend of sorcerous power. The ball of light grew larger as the power built to a crescendo ready to convert to a chronic force, tearing through the barriers of linear energy and sending the unicorn back in time.

It burst.

With a ferocious bang, the ball of light atop Twilight's horn shattered into a firework of sparks and a plume of light grey smoke. She collapsed with surprise and fatigue, coughing.

Dragons could not inhale smoke indefinitely but they had a vastly higher tolerance for it than ponies had. Spike scurried over to his mistress and used a sheaf of loose papers to fan the fumes away from the unicorn's muzzle and streaming eyes.

Spike turned to the entrance of the Star Swirl the Bearded wing at the sound of cantering hoofbeats. Eagle Eye, one of the library's guards, had overheard the noise from within.

"Twilight? You okay?"

Still hacking out smoke, Twilight pulled herself to her hooves and wiped her eyes. "Ahem. I'm fine. Ahem, ahem."

Sensing the lingering smoke in the wing, and noticing the fire-breathing dragon at Twilight's side, Eagle Eye could not help but dart his eyes around at the shelves of books and parchments in the secure library wing. As a private magical pupil of Princess Celestia, Twilight commanded no little respect in Canterlot. The unicorn stallion had to choose his words well. "You'll take care casting in here, right? Some of these works are irreplaceable."

Her throat finally cleared, Twilight forced a smile. "Of course. Wouldn't want to go casting a spell willy-nilly, not taking the right precautions. The consequences could be disastrous. Hehehe."

"Okay, then. See you around." Eagle Eye set off to continue his rounds, leaving Twilight to hang her head and heave a sigh.

"It's no use, Spike. I had a feeling it was too good to be true." It would have been so easy. Send herself back in time, back to before that fateful evening when she received Princess Celestia's assignment, and tell her past self that, whatever she did, she must not cast that spell until she studied it thoroughly and finalised a suitable fix. Thirty seconds would have been ample time to convey that message. Especially now that she knew to listen without interruption to warnings from her own future self.

Alas, she had learned that lesson the hard way. For Star Swirl knew the inherent risks of interfering with one's own time line. Even the slightest change to the past could have unexpected impacts. Therefore he had designed that backward time travel spell to work only once, as an emergency measure. Twilight was doomed never to execute the spell again.

Spike rested his forefoot against Twilight's side, trying to comfort the pony. "It was worth a try."

Twilight soughed and gazed around the wing. "Guess I'll have to do this the hard way."

* * *

Dust Jacket peered over the rims of her half-moon spectacles at the mound of books and scrolls on her desk, then turned to Twilight, who was levitating her library card in mid-air and wearing a slightly-too-wide grin. Spike, his sharp-toothed grin even more broad, poked his head out from behind Twilight's hindquarters.

"Twilight, there may have been the odd occasion in the past where I let you exceed your borrowing limit by a scroll or two but there must be three dozen works here."

"Actually there are thirty-seven. See——" A flick of Twilight's tail to the side of her assistant's head silenced his unhelpful clarification.

Twilight, still grinning, had not taken her eyes from Dust Jacket. "I wouldn't normally borrow this many at once——"

"Indeed not," said the off-white, lavender-bunned unicorn mare. "Other ponies use this library too. You aren't the only one in Canterlot with a love of reading and research, you know."

"I know, and that fact gladdens my heart no end. But the thing is, I'm working on an extremely important assignment for Princess Celestia." The dropping of the Equestrian oligarch's name had the desired effect. The librarian's eyes widened a touch and the firm expression on her late middle-aged face softened noticeably. "Yes, it's proving to be quite the challenge. If I am to complete this task to the Princess' satisfaction I will need a lot of advanced material."

"Twilight?"

The voice turned Dust Jacket's conflicted look to a gape of awe. Princess Celestia was on one of her visits. Drawn by the sound of her star pupil's voice and what sounded like the mention of her name, the snow-white alicorn, or winged unicorn, approached the check-out desk, her mane and tail waving like banners behind her despite the lack of breeze in the building.

"Princess Celestia," the two unicorns chorused as they and Spike bowed before their ruler.

"I'm so glad you're here," said Twilight. "Can you please confirm to Dust Jacket that you've entrusted me with fixing an ancient spell?"

Dust Jacket hastened from behind the desk and bowed again before the ruler. "Please forgive me, Your Highness. I merely sought to apply the lending limit that you yourself passed down. But of course I could be flexible if Twilight Sparkle's assignment is a matter of urgency."

"Urgency?"

Twilight's smile acquired a few properties of a cringe as her mentor turned to her. Celestia bore just the barest hint of reproach yet it was enough to strike unholy terror in her student. "Technically, I didn't actually use the word 'urgency'." She dared not let on to the princess that there was any problem with her work so far.

"Twilight, I haven't even set you a deadline. Do you truly need to borrow all of these works at once? Right now?"

Yes. Yes, yes and yes. All of these and more. "I just want to make sure I do the best job on this assignment that I can. I always want to do my utmost for you. And I'd hate to dishonour the memory of the legendary Star Swirl the Bearded by taking any half measures."

Celestia's eyes smiled but her faint air of reproof did not dissipate. "Your work ethic does you credit, Twilight Sparkle, but be cautious. Untempered desires can corrupt the best of us. That includes desire for accomplishment and approval as surely as desire for wealth or power."

Twilight tried not to wince. If only Celestia knew what horrors her student's desire for accomplishment and approval had already wrought. As if Eagle Eye's remark about casting with care hadn't been enough of an unwitting kick to Twilight's stomach.

"Doing your utmost doesn't mean rushing," the princess continued. "Take your time. Apply your knowledge, insight and skill with diligence and care. That will give you your best chance of succeeding."

"Yes, Princess Celestia." Twilight's voice was barely audible. There were few things she found more mortifying than being taught a lesson that she already knew. But what could she say?

Her mood did not escape Celestia's notice. The alicorn spread her great white wing around her dejected student like a swan guiding her cygnet. "Don't take it so hard, Twilight. There was no harm done."

No, not by this, thought Twilight and Spike simultaneously. Twilight forced herself to lift her head. With even greater willpower, she even managed a slight smile.

"There." Celestia turned to the desk and lifted all thirty-seven works, large and small, in her magical aura. She propelled them along a weaving, dazzling trajectory as she examined the titles. "Now perhaps we can go through these and see if we can't put back some of the more ... tangential works. For instance, I'm not sure how much help these books of time manipulation spells will be."

As Spike tried to still the tremors that gripped Twilight, Celestia examined the collection a few moments longer before turning to the librarian. "Madam Dust Jacket, I realise this is highly irregular but might it be permissible, just this once, for Twilight to exceed her borrowing limit by a scroll or two?"

* * *

The bellow signalled Spike's arrival before he burst through the entrance of the Golden Oak library. He slammed the wooden door shut and leaned his back against it, panting and shivering, balancing on his tail and the heels of his hind feet. The dragon shook his head and torso, scattering small lumps of ice from his dripping body onto the floor. He drew his shopping bag tightly to himself for comfort, then instantly dropped it as he realised it was soaking wet.

"Spikey-wikey!" shrieked Rarity's voice from without. "Ohh, my precious purple prince, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said Spike, hoping he had kept the annoyance from his voice. In truth, he was recovering reasonably quickly from the shock of the accidental localised shower of hail and rain. His hairless, ectothermic little body felt the cold more acutely than the ponies he had lived with since hatching but his watertight scales dried out far more rapidly than pony hides.

"I'm so dreadfully sorry," said Rarity. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Spike froze, and not from the cold.

Oh, the times he had longed for Rarity to ask him that very question. The times he had dreamed of it. The desires that had flooded through his mind. Riverside picnics, walks through the park, just being with her, until the exquisite unicorn began to think of Spike as more than just a friend. And who knew what that could lead to? Hugs, nuzzles, maybe even another ... kiss? Or two? On the ... mouth?

Spike sensed that his cravings were beginning to consume him and remembered that Rarity was still waiting outside. With a superdragon exertion of will, he banished the thoughts from his mind. This wasn't Rarity. Not his Rarity, the one he had known and adored from the day he and Twilight first arrived in Ponyville.

She looked like Rarity—sweet Celestia, did she look like Rarity—she spoke like Rarity, she had the same general demeanour and quirks as Rarity. Yet there was an integral part missing from her. The part that told her exactly who she was and what her place in the world was. Without it she was just flapping frantically around dumping hailstorms on innocent dragons and uttering abject apologies. It would not feel right, either emotionally or morally, to extract favour from this wretched creature.

Besides, there were higher priorities on his to-do list. Twilight needed to clean up her mess and Spike had to help in whatever way he could.

"No, that's okay Rarity. You'd better get back to your weather duties." Or better yet, get back to making dresses, he added mentally.

As the sound of Rarity's splashing hoofbeats faded into silence, Spike retrieved his bag from the wooden floor. He reached in and his heart sank. What had moments earlier been a ream of fresh writing paper was now a soggy, disintegrating mass of pulp, a casualty of the downpour that Spike had tried in vain to escape. He pulled out the contents as if to say a sad farewell to them, then let them and their bag drop back to the floor.

He turned to the burgeoning pile of scribble-covered paper and parchments, dotted with black-tipped quills, empty ink pots and open books, in the centre of the library. "Uh, Twilight, are you in there?"

A short burst of wind-like kinetic energy erupted from the centre of the mound, blasting a hole in its side. Ink pots and books clattered to the floor, slowly followed by dozens of twirling paper sheets.

The hole revealed Twilight lying unmoving in the centre, the right side of her head resting on her folded forelegs. Her pink-streaked purple mane was a frayed mess, her eyes bleary, half-closed and unfocused, her facial hide matted with dried tears. A sullen, incoherent murmur of acknowledgement drifted to Spike's ears.

"So, yeah, about that paper you sent me out for——"

A drawn-out groan interrupted Spike's confession. Twilight turned her head so that her forelegs covered her eyes. "Spare me the details, Spike. I doubt it would have done much good anyway. This is hopeless."

Spike waddled towards his mistress. "Hey, what kind of talk is that?"

Twilight lifted her head to face him. "Realistic. I've been reading, re-reading, analysing, cross-referencing, looking for some sort of insight or clue that would help me undo the spell. I'm no closer than when I started."

Spike hated seeing such a defeatist attitude in Twilight. He had seen her overcome one challenge and threat after another. But he wasn't the magic expert. Could it be that this was one problem she really couldn't fix? "So there's nothing you can do?"

"Sure there is."

Spike blinked. "Sure there is nothing you can do or...?"

"There is something I can do. There always has been."

The little dragon took a few seconds to stop himself from losing his temper with his mistress. "Then what are you waiting for? Get to it."

"I can't be sure it will work."

"It has to be worth a try, right?"

"It's pretty drastic."

Spike planted his forefeet on his hips. "Twilight, Pinkie's latest idea to increase her apple yield is to paint smiley faces on the tree trunks. I think we're beyond drastic, don't you?"

The unicorn sighed. She pulled herself to her hooves, sending more of the piled papers to the floor. "You're right, Spike. I can't put this off any longer."

"Good," said Spike. He waited for Twilight to get started.

And waited.

And waited.

"Uh, Twilight?"

Twilight emitted a plaintive whimper.

Spike drew nearer, his reproachful demeanour morphing into determination. "Look, whatever happens, I'll be here for you."

"That's just it, Spike. I don't know that you will."

"We'll see about that. Now let's do this."

Twilight took a few deep breaths to steel herself, then used her magic to blow a path through the papers until she uncovered a parchment, a quill and an unfinished pot of ink. She adjusted her magic energy to guide the implements towards Spike. The dragon snatched the parchment and quill with relish, dipped the quill tip in the ink and readied himself to take the unicorn's dictation.

"Dear Princess Celestia,

"It is with the deepest regret that I inform you that my attempt to complete Star Swirl the Bearded's unfinished spell has resulted in disaster."

Spike stopped writing. "Hey, you know what? Maybe I should trust your judgment on this."

* * *

Twilight related the events from her receipt of Celestia's assignment, their impacts on Ponyville and her inability to begin to figure out how to reverse or mitigate them, leading up to her abortive attempt to send herself back in time from Canterlot Library.

"Whether Star Swirl's failsafe prevents re-casting of the time spell for the same pony, or for any pony at all, I don't know. I hope that you can use the spell to enact some way, either by adding a warning to your letter or telling me in person, to stop my past self from switching my friends' destinies.

"Failing that I beseech you, with all my heart and humility, to do whatever is in your power to help me undo this spell and all of its effects.

"Afterwards, I will be ready for you to deal with me as you see fit. No punishment could be worse than seeing my friends and neighbours suffer on account of my foolishness.

"Your faithful student, for as long as you deem me so,

"Twilight Sparkle."

Spike rolled up the parchment and placed Twilight's seal over it. He held the scroll by one end and pondered it for a few seconds, waggling the free end in the air. This wasn't the first time Twilight had used magic to interfere with ponies' inner selves. Celestia had forgiven her for using the mind control spell but that was after Twilight's friends' confession that their unhelpful behaviour had contributed to the debacle and on the condition that they joined Twilight in recounting the friendship lessons they had learned.

Now, the unicorn was about to admit to another gross magical indiscretion, one that was entirely her own doing and might not even be reparable. She would also be living out her darkest, innermost subconscious fear: conceding failure of Celestia's assigned task. Not to mention revealing that she'd lied to Celestia's face about why she tried to borrow all those library books the other day. "Once I send this, there's no going back." He turned to Twilight. "Are you sure you don't want more time to come up with something else?"

"You said it yourself, Spike. We're beyond drastic."

"Yeah," said Spike. "These are your friends, after all."

"You're right, Spike. And they mean more to me than anything." Twilight walked over to a wall bearing a photograph of the six ponies, smiling with shared affection, from before their cutie marks were scrambled (thankfully, none of them had noticed that detail or Twilight would have had some explaining to do). "My friends. There's nothing they wouldn't do for me if I were in their position." She began to stare more intently at the picture. "I am in their position. I'm driven to fulfil a duty and I have no idea how. So if there's nothing they wouldn't do for me..."

It wasn't a blinding flash, not at first. Just the tiniest spark in each of her eyes. Yet it built up a force in her mind, a force of love and dedication that surged through her, infusing her, flooding her every fibre with inspiration.

"Then there's nothing they wouldn't do for ... each other."

THE END