• Published 12th Nov 2012
  • 5,798 Views, 261 Comments

Awards of the Heart - Twifight Sparkill



• After saving the Crystal Empire, a modest Spike is left both confused and concerned with having been declared a national hero.

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Camaraderie and Confessions

Awards of the Heart: Camaraderie and Confessions – by Twifight Sparkill

Twilight Sparkle remained alone in the Ponyville library, her companions and faithful assistant off tending to the matters that were required of them – from now on, her daily regimen would consist almost solely upon the intense study of advanced magical applications, unless she was otherwise required. Book after book, from hypothesis and theory to practice and result, she would have to research these matters with all the fervor she could muster to move on to the next level of her studies – whatever they may be.

“You weren’t willing to risk the future of the citizens of the Crystal Empire in an effort to guarantee your own,” Celestia had declared, the Elements of Harmony returning to Canterlot as decorous victors against yet another seemingly insurmountable threat. “Far better that I have a student who understands the meaning of self-sacrifice than one who only looks out for her own best interests.”

Twilight recalled the moment it happened quite poignantly. She had been left a critical decision to make, all but trapped up atop the dizzying heights of Crystal Castle amidst the climax of their struggle – having no other recourse than to send Spike in her stead, she was forced to risk his life in delivering the missing Crystal Heart despite Celestia’s insistence she alone would be responsible for saving the Empire.

Though through trial they defeated the evil King Sombra, freeing the enslaved crystalline ponies from their millennia-long banishment, a strange and pained feeling of intense pressure persisted in her chest. It followed her all the way from Canterlot, back to Ponyville and eventually the library. It felt as if a nagging, thick knot had been drawn tight and refused to relent – it caused her all manner of distress and distraction.

The next morning, after Spike had unceremoniously coughed up an official letter from the Secretary to Princess Cadance imploring he attend a hero’s banquet and award ceremony in his honor, it occurred to the lavender unicorn that something traumatic happened when she’d opened King Sombra’s magical door below the throne room – she was struck by the powerful illusory trap set atop it, forced to suffer a particularly heart-rending depiction of Princess Celestia dismissing her as both student and friend, which had left her absolutely devastated. Thankfully Spike was able to break the spell, but perhaps the sheer shock to Twilight’s psyche needed time to recoup. It made logical sense.

Come the following morning, looking and feeling awful, she elected to further investigate the issue.

The thick discomfort had slightly subsided, so Twilight elected to subject herself to a more clinical method of diagnosis: spending literal painstaking hours of intensified scientific analysis hooked up to the contraption she’d built in her basement. She strapped herself into the scanner, surrounded by all manner of whirring parts spouting pulleys and wires, and waited as the printer connected to the apparatus coughed out sheet after sheet of raw scientific data to analyze. Once correlated and interpreted, having considering all the possibilities available via cold scientific fact, she was left with only one possible conclusion:

“I was resentful of Spike,” she stated matter-of-factly, “and am now left feeling really, really guilty about it.”

Wait, what? She stared at her findings in sheer disbelief. Why would I ever resent Spike?

After carefully considering all the available facts – at least ten times, to be thorough – she determined that despite previous missions involving outrageous dangers and dubious survival, this was the very first time she’d felt her standing with Princess Celestia actually threatened. Because of the threat to her lavish appointment as scholar and scientist, she hated that her meager assistant could have cost her the lavish livelihood she'd worked so hard to achieve.

Did Celestia’s approval actually mean more to her than anyone or anything else? Even the closest friend she'd ever had?

She remembered being scared during her time on the train quite clearly. Once having bid Shining Armor an impassioned farewell at the station, everyone then gathered aboard the Express for the trip back to Canterlot. The others quieted in subdued conversation, leaving Twilight alone with her thoughts whilst absently cradling her beloved assistant. As the train clicked along at a leisurely pace, a torrent of nagging doubts began to subjugate the fleeting feelings of accomplishment she'd had just moments before – what had she done? For bidding Spike abandon her and return the Crystal Heart himself, she had assuredly surrendered her ardent tenure and position in Celestia’s tutelage. The very thought left her sick to her stomach, leaving the nervous unicorn awash with fretting regrets and harrowing assumptions.

Had she made the biggest mistake of her life by not saving the Empire herself? She’d wondered. No! Of course not! Yet the result certainly didn’t appear to bode well for her passing the Princess' test now.

Spike had always been a vassal and confidant; once old enough to be returned to the young filly that’d hatched him, the two were inseparable – they knew each other as intimately and completely as siblings, and that bond had grown into a very unique and special relationship. He was as much her very best friend, admittedly knowing her better than she knew herself, as an irreplaceable colleague; he was always there for her, no matter what.

Did I make a fatal mistake by letting him save the day instead?

Wait, hold on. How could she be losing control now, especially since having faced four of the most dangerous villains Equestria had ever known, to a notion so outrageously selfish and petty? Certainly, Celestia would know she had no other choice, having been caught in a cage of crystal, but to usher the dragon onward without her! Right? Surely she must!

While Spike dozed, it became a very long train ride for Twilight. The lavender unicorn sat and fretted, simply unable to imagine how she'd manage if no longer a royal protégé – it genuinely frightened her. What would she do if she’d actually failed the test? Having devoted so much attention and time to her studies via a royal appointment, it had never occurred to her what else she could possibly be capable of.

Her cutie mark denoted magic, her name spoke of stars... she did like astronomy, come to think. Could she just stare at the stars all night? She’d be categorizing constellations, tracking subtle movements, traversing through the various infrared or ultraviolet spectrums noting any interruptions or variances that'd indicate the movement of a celestial body, then categorizing and cataloging the entirety every sleepless night? Perhaps, perhaps – she didn’t mind working well into nightfall, having done it so many times before. It could be a sufficient surrogate if needed to be. Couldn’t it?

Twilight inwardly knew the matter to be pointless. She adamantly adored studying and performing magic more than anything else. She had a natural affinity for it, becoming so adept that she could literally learn a spell by simply watching it. There was no other choice in the matter!

From the time she could flip the pages of a book, she was already well on her way towards a lifetime of studying and utilizing sorcery. It made life a little easier, knowing exactly what you were meant to do since before you could walk, she figured. Quite efficient, though irrefutably rebarbative if ever threatened.

Trying to dismiss the insisting twinge of guilt, for the time being at least, she put aside her findings to concentrate upon her latest manuscript: a technical piece regarding unspecified spacial relations and teleportation results.

“... upon activation of the spell, it is commonly accepted by the caster that they should be innately aware of their destination via sensual memory for the sake of safety, yet it’s impossible to specifically determine once committed as to what matter may have spacially changed within the determined destination – in a furnished room for example, any tables being relocated or chairs having been added or removed, any foreign objects would present a very nearly cost myself everything making me question my loyalty as a friend to Spike because I’m the worst pony in the world and...”

“...what? Oh, drat!” Twilight groaned, reviewing the document before heaving it into a nearby waste basket.

What had gotten into her? After mimicking Celestia’s example in casting the strange dark magic Sombra had used, everything was harder to concentrate on and nothing felt quite the same. Nothing appeared as vibrant, seemed as friendly, or… remained as innocent. She had needed that spell to gain entrance into the caverns below the Crystal Palace, but she'd regretted learning it ever since. She’d even experienced brief flashes in her vision, noticed the tinge of green to her eyes in reflective surfaces – she'd have to discuss the matter with Princess Celestia at Spike’s award ceremony if it persisted. Dark magic was a very foreign material of study for Twilight, and it was always best to proceed with caution when it came to matters of black sorcery.

The librarian mare breathed a long sigh, putting her quill and ink back in their case. She'd learned so much about friendship over the years, yet no matter how resolute the outcome, there were often niggling matters that muddled her faith in ever comprehending the definition of friendship – this needed to be dealt with now, and everything else would have to wait.

She stood straight, stretched out the kinks in her muscles, and began to pace as plans formulated.

“Okay Twilight,” she hummed, looking about the library, “settle down. When Spike gets home, we’ll make everything right. Maybe prepare tea and crumpets to set a relaxed mood? Yes, good idea. We’ll both sit down, I’ll admit that I had some petty jealousy issues about the entire Crystal Heart matter, my thinking his heroism nearly cost me my cushy librarian stint, and we can get on with our lives. Perfect!”

Having heard the summation spoken out loud, Twilight winced – that was awful. She'd be just as well off saying, “Oh Spike, I was supposed to be the hero! If Celestia failed me in my studies, I would never forgive you because I'm obviously a very bad friend and you should hate me forever! Sound good? So glad we had this talk!”

This would obviously take more careful planning; some serious forethought, mature introspection, and ultimately a very heartfelt admittance that had started to bother her more than the guilt itself. Why exactly did everything have to be so darn complicated? If only friendship came with a complete guide… aside from the one she’d been devising during her tenure in Ponyville, naturally. All Twilight could do now was hope that Spike was a better manner of friend than she apparently was.

“… maybe I should get some balloons and a plate of crystal cookies for good measure,” she wondered. “Ugh, I have got to stop talking to myself. It's creepy!”

---

It was an awkward walk back from Rarity’s Carousel Boutique for Spike. Having endured a severe lecture on the matters and manners of friendship, and his apparent misunderstandings of such, he wasn't even aware of the rainbow-maned pegasus that’d been trotting alongside him for several minutes.

“Hey!” She finally spoke. “Reality to Spike – come in Spike! Are You gonna just keep ignoring me or what? Funny, Applejack does that all the time. She’s allergic to awesome, though, I so get that now. Must be something in the apples or whatever.”

“Yipes!” The dragon stopped, freezing in place, throwing up his arms protectively. “No autographs please!”

Dash cackled wildly at the dragon’s reaction, falling sideways with raucous laughter.

“Okay, that was hilarious! Wow, Rarity sure did a number on you! Poor little guy, hee hee!” After a moment, she popped back to her hooves, wiped her tears, and smiled at him.

“Wuh-what? Oh! Sorry!” Spike gathered his wits and finally addressed his multi-hued friend. “Hi, Rainbow Dash. I was um… thinking, right. About whatever you just said. What’s up?”

The azure pegasus simply smirked, shouldering him roughly as they started walking up the cobbled path again.

“I was just flying by, happened to notice that a local hero was dragging his heels from the Carousel Boutique.” She grinned. “Let me guess, ol’ Rarity forced you to prance around all chic and magnifique in her latest pièce de résistance? Yeah, I know that look – hey, at least you got out of there in one… pièce! Get it?”

“Sort of,” he mused. “Nice Rarity impression, very funny. Let’s just say that it was an experience and leave it at that, if it's all the same to you.”

The tone of Spike’s voice made Rainbow hesitate a moment, though she quickly waived any concerns.

“So how’s the suit looking?” she queried. “I bet you look pretty darn cool in it, huh? Must be pretty exciting, what with your big day coming up! At least, this time, it's not me getting all brushed and coiffured – you get that honor, lucky guy! Heh, all perfumed and fussed over like some cute little fire-breathing doll, won't that be fun? Heh heh heh!”

“Yeah, super fun,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Rarity seems to be okay with the suit, I don’t know… I’ve never worn clothes much, so if she’s happy I guess I’m happy.” Spike heaved a long sigh. “I don’t know about much of anything right now, sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

The pegasus quirked a brow, looking puzzled.

“Okay, now hang on one feather-plucking minute,” she grumbled. “Something is way wrong here, and I’m not getting the problem. Are you... like, upset about being a hero?”

“Maybe?” Spike waved the question off. “You know, just… not too sure about all the attention I guess. It’s getting so I can’t even walk down the street without somepony stopping me and bringing the whole ordeal up! They ask questions, tell me how great I am, all that stuff… ugh! I just want my life to be back the way it was, you know?”

“Hey, nopony ever said being a hero was easy.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “It’s nothing to get all weirded out over though, trust me! In time you’re gonna love it! We just have to get you through the next few days is all. We go to the Crystal Empire, Cadance gives you a medal, and everything goes back to normal. I promise!”

Spike didn’t appear convinced.

“Okay, look at it this way,” Rainbow leaned close. “If someone like Twilight can deal with being a national hero, so can you! I mean, she gets all freaked out about everything, right? If she can stand in front of a gazillion ponies and get a big shiny award, so can you! Trust me, you’ll be okay Spike. If you can handle hosting the Hearth Warming's Eve pageant, you can totally do this.”

“... it’s not the same”, he grumbled. “I played a part in that. This is… real.”

Once the pair had made it within the Ponyville marketplace, they both noticed a hush amongst the gathered crowd – shoppers and business owners alike went silent as they walked past, causing Spike to wince. The streets were bustling with ponies, and it appeared all eyes had fallen on him.

“There he is!” A pony said quietly, smiling broadly and pointing. “That’s totally him, I recognize his photo from the paper!”

“Is that really him?” another asked her friend. “He’s the one who saved the Crystal Empire? Aw! Look at how small he is! He’s so adorable!”

Soon the entire gathering in the bazaar was collected about Spike and Rainbow Dash, pointing and commenting and touching at him – it was a veritable sea of activity that’d come in like some maddened tide. He could only throw his arms up in a weak attempt to buffet the crashing wave, desperately wishing it would all just go away.

“Please,” he whispered, “make it stop.”

“Stand back!” A loud voice suddenly commanded in a stern growl. “Move along you crazy herd of rubber-neckers! There’s nothing to see here, just a guy trying to get home in one piece! G’wan back to your business! Everything is under control! Keep moving!”

Spike popped an eye open. Rainbow was diving and yelling, ushering the crowd back and away from them with expert maneuverings. She flapped about, waving her hooves in an exaggerated fashion, forcing the onlookers back and away from the frightened dragon as she would dismiss a collection of misdirected cumulus.

He breathed a long, grateful sigh as the ponies finally returned to their business, most of them muttering about being so roughly treated.

“Whew, thanks for the crowd control,” Spike smiled gently, making a hastened march for the library. “This has been happening far too much over the last couple of days. I don’t know how you guys put up with it!”

“Yep, well it’s tough work to be this awesome all the time,” Dash admitted immodestly, scrubbing her chest with a forehoof. “Being this cool takes some serious practice. Don’t sweat it, I’ll keep you safe until we reach the library, and then maybe I’ll give you a few pointers.”

Spike nodded a bit, finally feeling a slight more comfortable since leaving his raucous fitting previous. “The library! It’ll sure be nice to go back to something normal,” he hummed. “I really can’t wait ‘til all these ponies quit making such a big deal out of this – it’s getting embarrassing, you know? It’s just not my style.”

“You can’t wait for normal?” The pegasus wondered at that in disbelief, following a few steps behind the dragon. “C'mon Spike, everypony needs to celebrate a hero! You can't blame folks for getting excited! Just… well, look at Twilight and the Princess, for example. Or everypony in Equestria and me!”

Rainbow giggled ruefully.

“Just trust me on this, it’s all good. You'll understand after the ceremony.” Rainbow tapped him on the shoulder, giving the dragon a knowing wink. “In the meanwhile, I got your back Spike. Let’s get you to the library before anyone gets out of hoof – I don’t want to have to get physical, but I will!” she grunted, striking a boxing stance and throwing a few quick jabs in display.

Spike just grinned, shaking his head.

“I feel better already.”

---

Twilight paced impatiently. How was she going to broach the subject without sounding like an ingrate? This was Spike she was talking about – of all the friends she knew, he was the only one who could accept her fault and forgive her. Right? He knew she wasn't a spotlight-hogging glory hound or a flighty self-serving coward! ... right? Ooh, this was awful. She was so terrible, she wasn't even giving him the benefit of the doubt! But... what if this was the last straw? Wonderful, understanding, emphatic Spike... did she even deserve his forgiveness?

“Maybe a few streamers, a big banner? That would totally work!” Pinkie exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “Oh yeah, a big howdoyado as soon as he walks through the door! That’s how you make someone know how special they are!”

“You are so right,” the lavender mare admitted. “As ever, there’s only one pony who knows how to fix an awkward issue with a few ribbons and bows. I’m so glad I asked…”

The two mares stared at each other; Twilight in disbelief, Pinkie Pie with a telltale smirk.

The unicorn jumped a few feet backward in unbridled shock.

“Pinkie!” she screeched! “When did… how did you… what are you doing here?”

The pink earth pony leaped about the library, fastening balloons and streamers.

“I had a premonition,” she stated matter-of-factly. “My left eye twitched, my tail swung about, and suddenly I knew that you wanted to make amends with Spike! I don’t really know why, but… hey, do I have enough purple and green decorations? I don’t usually do a lot of green and purple together! I just knew somepony needed my services, and here I am! Fun fun fun!” Pinkie squealed.

Once recovered from the initial shock, Twilight considered her plight – yes, she definitely needed help with this. Yes, Pinkie Pie was the bonafide party pony with all the answers when it came to… anything requiring a party. Was this some sort of coincidence that defied logic and reasoning? Again, yes. Should the subject be concerning enough to subjugate and study via various scientific apparatus? Maybe later.

“I appreciate whatever help I can get,” the librarian admitted humbly. “Thanks, Pinkie.”

“Aw, don’t get all emotional!” The fuchsia mare scolded for Twilight’s serious expression. “If we’re gonna get this done in time, we have to stay focused! Say, do you have a spare helium tank?”

Twilight blinked. “… I don't believe so.”

“You’re not very well prepared for emergencies, are you?” Pinkie frowned, producing one from below the library’s floorboards. “You’re lucky I had a spare laying around – you can thank me later.”

Twilight would've likely spent the next few hours trying to figure out how Pinkie got a tank of compressed gas under the library, if not for the severity of the situation.

“Um, woohoo?”

To Be Continued.