• Published 12th Nov 2012
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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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Prisoners and Poisoning

Awards of the Heart: Prisoners and Poisoningby Twifight Sparkill

Spike sat idly by as the two physician mares huddled together, conferring in guarded whispers just beyond his earshot. He knit his claws nervously, finding their tones a bit too somber for his liking.

The young dragon had apparently fallen asleep at some point earlier, for reasons he couldn't completely recall at the moment, and had woken some hour or so later upon an unfamiliar weathered green couch that smelled faintly of wet dog and spiced incense.

The veterinary yellow pegasus that had insisted he stayed lingered in the cottage foyer with her back turned to him, engaged in somber conference with Zecora, the mysterious zebra alchemist known to reside in the Everfree Forest. The striped mare wore a decidedly serious expression, looking to Spike periodically throughout their deliberation, which left him more anxious.

He cocked an ear in hopes to catch some of their discussion, though couldn't manage to discern much for the baffling aesculapian speech they shared. Rubbing at his spinning head with a sigh, the dragon tried to remember what had transpired before succumbing to unconsciousness; a persisting black satin canvas ultimately mocked his vain attempts.

"... um, I don't mean to interrupt," Spike managed in a frustrated growl, "but what the hay is going on here? What happened? Where am I, and why does my head hurt?"

Both ponies turned then, addressing him with troubled stares.

"You hit your head quite hard on my mailbox," the pegasus explained. "I'm sorry about that. However, there's... something else I found during your physical. Please don't be upset, but I had to call for a second opinion. Sorry."

Zecora stepped purposefully towards the seated dragon, settling alongside him on the couch as Fluttershy watched on apprehensively.

"Can you try if able," the zebra asked in her foreign rhyming speech, "to recall what you'd said?"

She sidled close to Spike, wearing a placating smile – the sort reserved for doctors waiting to deliver the worst of news. "We believe your condition is currently stable, though we fear that an outbreak could yet be spread."

"Just tell her what you told me," Fluttershy urged.

The dragon blinked. He considered Zecora thoughtfully, then rubbed his chin.

"... I don't have to rhyme too, do I?" Spike asked.

Fluttershy squeaked at that, hiding her eyes with a hoof. The zebra laughed.

"Please, young Spike," the striped mare insisted, "we're sympathetic ears; tell us what you'd like, there's no judgment here."

The dragon took a deep breath, letting his mood and mind clear enough to manage some of his conversation with Fluttershy before he'd drifted off. He relaxed as much as was able given the circumstances and recounted what little he could recall.

"Okay," the baby dragon began. "Basically I'd said that I'm, I'm... afraid that Twilight doesn't need me, and I don't actually matter to her. That's it."

Both ponies suddenly flinched. Spike quirked a brow curiously, cleared his throat, then grudgingly continued.

"I suppose she's never really needed me around," he surmised, "save to do a few boring chores or run some errands, you know? Twilight is the student of Princess Celestia herself, after all! She's only forced to look after me because ... because she has to, I guess?"

Spike's heart sank, choking the words in his throat, an overwhelming sadness washing over him.

"She hatched me as part of some test, you know? I was ... a passing grade for her to get into magic school. How does that make me important to her? I'm only kept around as long ... as long as I'm useful to you ponies. I know that no matter what I do, one day Twilight will ... outgrow her use for me. I'll be all alone, and nopony will care if I'm here or gone! You're all these amazing Equestria-wide heroes, and I'm ... I'm nothing. You're all better off without me."

The mares watched him closely. Both began to go wide-eyed, which gave him pause.

"... it is as you claim," Zecora hissed at Fluttershy. "He's sick with despair. If infected just the same, she's likely unaware."

Spike stared at the pair blankly. Were they talking about him anymore? About Twilight? He was so confused, so alone. He swept the falling tears from his eyes, and stared at the droplets in his paws - why? Why was he so useless? Why wasn't anypony telling him what was going on?

Fluttershy collected a small mirror from her cupboard, clasped it purposefully in her wingtips, and walked it to Spike. Angling it enough for him to spy his own reflection, he studied the image within for a long while.

"Oh. That's not good," he finally managed, touching at his face in stunned disbelief. "Where... where have I seen that before?"

---

Applejack rubbed furiously at her temples in a vain attempt to quell an encroaching headache developing behind her eyes.

Having found Pinkie Pie at the remote train station of Bridleburgh – or more appropriately kept from returning home with her newly repaired cart despite the best of efforts – the orange farmer quickly darted for a small cafe located across from the station with her fuschia comrade close in tow.

Applejack knew her displaced colleague didn't intend to disrupt her carefully laid plans, but a few stiff drinks and a passable meal were the only things to keep her from having a full-blown fit for the damned luck of it. She took a long draw from her cool cider as it arrived, then set the mug upon the bartop with a pointed ferocity – startled patrons shot upward from their meals and drinks, then blithely returned to their business following a curt silence. Pinkie Pie settled quietly to her right, asking after some green cocktail adorned with enough fruits and umbrellas to start a tropical island resort.

The farmer took a deep breath, whispered something akin to a proper curse word, then addressed her company accordingly.

"So, y'mind telling me what the hay you're doing here exactly, sugarcube?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Twilight and I were looking for Spike, and now I'm here. Wherever here is," Pinkie Pie responded vigorously.

Swirling the remnants of her mug for a thoughtful while, Applejack threw the remaining contents down her throat, then slid the empty vessel down towards the barkeeper. Within mere moments, a freshly poured cider appeared in front of her. Hallelujah. She took a new draw from the cup, then resumed her inexplicably calm demeanor.

"You're in Bridleburgh, Pinkie," she noted. "It's a steel town; this is also where coal and coke and all manner of minerals come from. It's a smoggy, festering black blot on the world, and we're both stuck here despite what we'd prefer."

"... so I'm in Bridleburgh," the pink mare amended, slurping loudly at the remainder of her exotic brew. "Twilight and I were on a train, and she asked me to get off and wait for ten minutes. I waited ten minutes, then I found your coin purse. Lucky for you, yeah?"

The orange pony blinked awkwardly a few times. This was decidedly disjointed, even for Pinkie. Why would Twilight knowingly abandon a friend in some urban war zone when all the while supposedly looking for Spike? In fact, why were they looking for Spike in the first place?

"Barkeep!" Applejack called.

Two new drinks arrived neatly in front of the pair; one was a stifling colourful nightmare, the other a frosty golden bubbly nectar.

"... how about you tell me everything from the beginning, darlin'?"

"I just did," Pinkie grinned, chewing on a piece of mango.

The exasperated apple farmer pulled her hat down around her face, then screamed obscenities into it.

---

Twilight watched out the train car window as snow-blanched scenery flew by, finding the exercise a soothing ease compared to the troubling intuitions that insisted otherwise. Once a display announced the Northern Equestria stop, her guts stopped turning enough that she could manage to stand and gather her luggage. The remaining few ponies still left in her car stood as well, and the lot filed politely towards the exits. She remained last in the line, quietly collecting her feverish thoughts as the mob accumulated onto the thoroughfare.

"Twiley?" a voice suddenly called out.

That made her jump, a sudden burst of familiarity and dread shattering any plans made previously during her travel. The lavender unicorn absently wondered how she'd been spotted so quickly, being wrapped up in a cloak, looking and feeling very unlike her usual self.

Flanked by a dozen armoured guards, the newly crowned Prince of the Crystal Empire waved frantically at his sister from a security desk situated by the station walkway. He appeared to be supervising some newly appointed customs practice, requiring thorough identity checks and baggage inspections, before anyone could gain entrance into the reborn province.

Shining Armor was ever the loyal soldier, and likely insisted he remain an active military participant given the gravity of the current situation, Twilight surmised. He always was a fiercely determined colt.

She paused for a moment to consider her surroundings. The process of gaining entrance into the Empire appeared as some slow and laborious chore, though upon proper scrutiny moved quite smoothly; it maintained the disarming aloofness of a primped welcoming party, whilst corresponding elegantly alongside an ever-present lawful intimidation.

The line ran rather quickly, and before she could gather her waking wits, she was confronted with her brother's excited smile.

"H-Hello Shining Armor!" Twilight managed awkwardly. "Say, where's Cadance? I really need to talk to her. Now."

Her brother's expression visibly faltered for the clumsy greeting. The two armed ponies flanking him stepped purposefully around the desk, confronting the nervous librarian directly.

"Please come with us, ma'am," they instructed, nudging her towards an adjacent office room across the hallway. "Customary interrogation, nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about," Twilight repeated in a flat tone. "Nothing at all."

To be continued.