In her effort to study friendship further, Twilight reaches out to a stallion more burdened than she could possibly know.
It was only natural that introspection would come in the wake of something as monumental as a royal wedding. With the festivities of Shining Armor's betrothal long since past, Twilight has come to realize that there exists a tremendous gap in her studies of friendship, that being that she doesn't really have any stallion friends. That's likely because pursuing platonic relations with the opposite gender is rather difficult when there's a growing desire in her heart for something deeper than her friends can provide.
After an afternoon of disturbed study time and unexpected dental catastrophe, the last thing Twilight would have expected was for opportunity to come knocking in the form of a quiet stallion reading in her library. Enraptured by the chance to expand her education, Twilight bumbles into the newcomer's life without the faintest notion of the depth of the pony's loss. Though her faith in friendship is strong, it will take more than her magic to undo the scars of his past, and keep a heart once filled with wonder from succumbing to the power of doubt.
Set after the events of the season three pilot and before Twilight is crowned princess.
There are as many subjects of controversy in life as there are immutable facts: constants, the antonym of one sugar-powered mare currently experiencing a level of bliss not normally attainable without chemical augmentation from elicit substances or stimulation not acceptable in public. Twilight had long since given up her doomed, though noble, quest to explicate the inexplicable mysteries and regular breaching of known natural laws commonly displayed by a certain earth pony the color of cotton candy, but on that particular summer day, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her back and the scent of flowers mingling with the dust from her newest literary conquest, she noticed something particularly disturbing.
More than her ability to outrun Rainbow Dash or accurately predict a host of bizarre happenstances and natural disasters, this sudden realization took the studious mare's mind by storm. A creature whose diet consisted of disease inducing levels of sugar had white teeth: not just white, but shining, scilliant, flawless white. Twilight had learned not to delve into matters where logic and reasoning had no part or portion, but as she was all but blinded by reflected solar rays, she couldn't help but comment.
"Pinkie!" At the sound of her friend's voice, hyperactivity incarnate responded promptly, jamming no fewer than half a dozen muffins into her mouth before zipping over in a blur of pink.
"Yush Twulut?" Brushing away crumbs and spittle, Twilight responded calmly with an affectionate grin.
"Sorry to interrupt your 'snack,' but... I couldn't help but notice you have a really dazzling smile." Pinkie, for once, appeared momentarily speechless, though this was expectedly short lived, as was Twilight's personal space. The sudden eviction of air from her lungs escaped in a wheeze, courtesy of one ecstatic embrace. Slightly- no, more than slightly confused by such a sentimental response, Twilight let her hooves hang limply at her sides for a moment before reciprocating the unprecedented hug with an awkward pat to the mare's shoulder.
"Omigosh, Colgate was right!" the jubilant mare chortled, sweeping Twilight off her hooves. Twirling in a sickening series of spins that would have left any Pegasus reeling, Wonderbolt or not, Pinkie displayed all the poise of a trained dancer as she spun, missing not a single step. Eventually, the semi-traumatized shouts of the pony currently being subjected to her victory jig caught her attention, so Pinkie slapped a lid on her excitement, giggling profusely as she threw Twilight into the air with flair and set the mare back on her hooves as lightly as a feather floating down to earth.
"Sorry, you're just the very first pony I wanted to notice since I started trying out Colgate's special treatment, and now you are!" she explained, fidgeting like normal, but not.
"Is she... blushing?" Given the mare's coat and unabashed nature, Twilight knew that if the faint redness coloring the bubbly mare's cheeks was indeed a blush, then whatever was causing such a phenomenon would have to be pretty strong. "Ok, discounting all of my obvious questions..." she began, maintaining an even expression despite being off kilter on a number levels. "What is this 'special treatment' thing?"
"Oh, it's super neat!" Pinkie replied, shirking her momentary recession of insanity with a cheerful grin. "It's a teeny tiny bit more expensive than the usual checkups, but it really makes your teeth shine. You should totally try it!"
"I can't deny I am a little curious," Twilight conceded with reluctant admission. Rather than respond with words, Pinkie slowly leaned further and further forward, the wealth of anticipation stretching the corners of her mouth into a delighted crescent moon nearly as radiant as Luna's cradle itself. A defeated sigh slowly escaped as the birthing cries of a rueful grin, and the temperate librarian found herself unable to keep her affection for her friend from showing. "Ok, you win, Pinkie," Twilight said in mock exasperation, throwing her hooves in the air and wincing as Pinkie let the town know that it was truly a great day.
Why Twilight getting her teeth cleaned, which she was fairly confident she was as studious in maintenance as she was in research, made her friend hop excited circles around her, she couldn’t say. Despite her bafflement, Twilight knew it was a small price to pay for such a good friend. Closing her tome, Twilight promised Pinkie Pie that she would meet her back in the gnoll upon completion of her session before trotting back towards the library to pick up some bits to cover the costs. As she stepped inside, she hastily made a mental note to give Spike a lecture on the finer points of work before pleasure, and turned back towards town with the disastrous mess behind her; it wasn't her fault that Starswirl the Bearded's theories were buried under layers of myth and legend, after all! The clink of the bits within her sack mingled with the myriad voices of the townsfolk to form the background music for intellectual exploration of all she had learned, and before she knew it she was standing outside a small clinic dedicated to dentistry. It certainly wasn't a spectacle, built of typical Ponyville architecture with a quaint sign hung above the entryway that simply read "Brushie Brush!"
"Hello? Is anypony here?" Twilight called out upon entering to find the rather small waiting area completely unoccupied.
"Yes! A customer!" a voice called out in a jovial tone laced with excitement. Twilight cocked an eyebrow as there sounded a scuffle followed by a crash that sounded like somepony upending the silverware drawer with blissful nonchalance, a groan accompanied by a stream of muttering Twilight was thankful she couldn't quite make out, and finally the emergence of the resident dentist. "Oh, hey, Twilight!" Colgate quipped, cantering over and extending a hoof.
"Uh... Colgate, you got a little... something right..." Twilight said slowly, motioning to her mane. Colgate stared blankly for a moment while she mirrored the motion, her hoof quickly coming into contact with that which was not hair and bringing with it a sheepish giggle as the unicorn dug the offending toothbrush from her mane with practiced ceremony.
"Thanks for that, Twilight! I-"
"Little more, Colgate," Twilight interjected, chuckling as the mare tilted her head to the side only to have a number of toothpicks and a small mirror used for molar examination clatter to the floor.
"The hay..." Colgate murmured, staring in confusion. "Ok, I remember the toothpicks, but why wasn't there floss? Wait a second..." Twilight sheltered her muzzle as the mare gave her head a hearty shake, releasing a hail of oral care products including, but not limited to, two travel-sized tubes of toothpaste, another brush, and the much sought after container of floss, only half full. "There you are! I swear, I am starting to understand why so few ponies listen when I tell them to floss," Colgate lamented, shaking her head slowly at the dire tragedy as she turned her attention back to her would-be customer. "Think about it! Who is going to actually want go chase down their floss at the end of the day?"
"Pinkie Pie comes to mind," Twilight offered in a casual tone, a little taken aback as Colgate nodded sagely in full agreement.
"Oh, if only everypony were as dedicated as her..." Colgate murmured with a wistful sigh. "No, wait, then I would be out of a job! I'd go crazy with nopony to brushie! Wouldn't that just be absolutely, horrifyingly lame?"
"Well, I-"
"Need a good brushie brushie! Durr, way to go me!" the mare exclaimed, pulling a face and as she clapped the side of her head lightly with a hoof. Twilight hadn't really had any direct dealings with Colgate prior to this, her first trip to the dentist since foalhood, and she couldn't help but smirk a little as the giddy mare led her around the corner and sat her down in an amazingly comfortable chair, all while chanting some kind of theme to herself made up entirely of the words "brushie brush." It was catchy.
"Ok! What brings you in today, Twilight?" Colgate asked in a musical tone, sanitizing her hooves as well as the tray of tools that had cruelly attacked her immediately following Twilight's entrance, much to Twilight's pleasure and peace of mind. Actually, much like everypony else she'd met since coming to Ponyville, there was likely a good deal more intelligence buried under the quirks than readily apparent to naked eye, and Twilight was willing to give Pinkie's recommendation the benefit of the doubt.
"Well, I don't know that I need anything, but Pinkie Pie was telling me about some kind of 'special... treatment?'" Twilight trailed off at the end as Colgate whirled around with a crazed grin, and despite her logical nature's gentle chiding for attempting to recoil while quite firmly pressed into the chair already, the mare couldn't help but be slightly nervous at the glee shining in Colgate's eyes.
"So, you want the 'special treatment,' do you?" she repeated, approaching slowly with unidentifiable intentions.
"Suddenly, I am having second thoughts... but Pinkie..." It was enough. While unconventional, Pinkie had a knack for pulling ponies from even the deepest of valleys, and Twilight couldn’t count the number of times a blast of confetti had garnered her appreciation. With a sigh of calm acceptance, Twilight nodded with a smile, ready to meet whatever awaited her - Pinkie Pie style.
"That's right. I made a promise to a friend, and I won't go back on my word. Colgate, lay it on me!"
“Well, prepare yourself for the most outrageous oral experience a mare could ever wish for!” Colgate squealed in her elation, shifting her hooves to Twilight’s shoulders as she did so. “Now, this is kind of a delicate operation, so you’re going to need to stay really still, okay?”
“If you say so.” Twilight closed her eyes and let her head sink into the soft cushioning, contemplating how gratifying it would be to nap in such a comfortable chair and wondering how many times Colgate had likely done the same. "She’s a touch spastic, but other than that, she’s really pretty fun. It’s no wonder her and Pinkie Pie get along."
“Ok, um... in order to actually clean your teeth, I need you to open really wide. Oh! Don’t move your tongue too much, either. That could hurt.”
"Hurt?" Twilight cracked an eye open as the mare double-checked her tools. "Yikes, some of those look pretty pointed. She wasn’t playing around when she said it was a delicate procedure, I guess... Oh well! I can trust her - she is the professional, after all!" Complying without a second though, Twilight opened her mouth and did her best to remain still, finding little cause for concern. Trepidation soon paid the mare a visit as she heard a sound akin to activating an enormous centrifuge full of microwaves set to high and likely filled with several bags of popcorn each. The cacophony graced her ears much like Scootaloo's singing would serenade an audience of critics, and one eye cracked open became two very frightened dinner plates as she regarded the buzzing machinery with all the level-headedness of a green-maned Rarity. One might argue that any device that would cause such imagery in one’s head was nightmare worthy in and of itself, but the whirring mass of metal was directed at Twilight’s face, and it had a barrel. A very narrow, very scary barrel.
“C... Colgate?!?” Twilight yelped, attempting to meld into the chair in her efforts to put a little distance between herself and the massive turret that had risen from the floor.
"You know, Twilight, you're only my second customer for the special course, but you seem kinda... I dunno, tense?” Colgate commented, poking her head out from behind the behemoth. “You should relax!"
"Don't tell me to bucking relax with that... that cannon pointed at my muzzle!"
"How could you say something so cruel, Twilight! She is not a cannon!” Colgate shot back, drawing up beside her precious contraption and stroking its gleaming silver frame.
“Well, then what the hay is she- it, anyways?”
“This lovely lady’s an expert in the amplification of sodium monofluorophosphate by stimulated emission of radiation.” Twilight digested this information, blinked once, and quailed.
“You turned toothpaste into a laser?!?”
"Bingo!” Colgate quipped, clapping her hooves. “Lasers are way more classy than cannons! No offense to Pinkie Pie, of course. Now, as I said before, this is a delicate operation, so could you please sit still? I’d rather not miss.”
“Are you crazy?” Twilight snapped, frantically trying to calm enough to focus her magic into a forcefield. “There’s no possible way I’m letting you zap my teeth with something so dangerous!” Bereft of patience and a little more than slightly offended with Twilight’s callous disregard of her countless hours researching science not even remotely close to that of the medical kind, Colgate set her jaw, narrowed her eyes, and delivered her ultimatum.
“It’s brushie time.”
“Try it, mare,” Twilight growled, lighting the room with a dangerous lavender glow as she conjured every defensive spell she knew to mind. “There’s no way that mechanized menace of a brushie blaster could possibly muddle my magic!” Mortally wounded in a place right near the center of her chest, Colgate clutched her heart as her eyes filled with tears at hearing her baby called a menace. It brought just a tinge of hesitancy to the slanderer as the spearmint mare dropped her gaze, ignored the tiny clatter of a foal’s toothbrush as it fell from her mane, and sniffled quite loudly.
“Uh... Colgate?”
“Gotcha!” Twilight had but a moment to appreciate the truly devious leer of a mare and her machinery not to be scorned before Colgate deftly flipped a slider and mashed a button on the side. The Element of Magic was formidable, but how could she possibly expect to outrun a laser? A gale of laughter tore from Twilight’s lungs as ten thousand feathers joined one million tiny spiders doing the jitterbug on her ribcage. Squirming helplessly as the low-pressure stream of toothpaste bore into her side, any hopes of concentrating enough to conjure any kind of spell quickly bid the laughing librarian a hasty adieu and romped away to dance with the spiders cutting a rug with the jitterbug, currently set to the “breathless” difficulty.
“C-Colgahahaha! Youhehehehe~ n-n-need to... to... bwahahaha!” It was useless. Like Luna celebrating her very first Nightmare Night, the laughter doubled as Colgate gave the lavender mare a sympathetic nod and swept the beam across to the other side, across the mare’s belly despite her patient’s flailing hooves, which Twilight discovered were also quite ticklish, switched the machine off, and then sauntered over to the chair with a smug grin.
“Huh, so you can turn a pony purple with paste!” Colgate mused to herself, leaning in close to scrutinize a very breathless Twilight’s cheeks, currently taking a fashion lesson from Rarity’s mane and doing an absolutely smashing job at flattery through mimicry. “Still think she’s a menace?”
“Huuuwah...”
“You know, for somepony who lives in a library, I’d have thought you’d be a little more, I dunno... eloquent?” Colgate mused as Twilight lay gasping for air, still weeping tears of forced mirth. “Eh, can’t judge a book by it’s cover, I suppose. Now, be a good little filly and sit really still, ok?” Struck by the irony of being told to “sit still” when quite firmly glued to the chair, Twilight attempted a snort that came out a snicker and shed a few more tears. Peering through her scope, Colgate took aim, set the power to max... and had an oops.
It was nopony’s fault, really. Colgate wasn’t a seer, Twilight wasn’t a good patient, and doctors rarely anticipate their patients brazenly casting aside their instructions with casual disregard for their own safety. In Twilight’s defense, she was fairly light-headed from Ponyville’s newly appointed tickle torture extraordinaire, and thought nothing of it as she closed her gaping maw and leaned forward to make petition of her dentist. Colgate was just peeved that she missed her shot.
“Col...” ZAP!
“Ooooh,” Colgate grimaced, “...nose shot.” Straight up the mare’s sinuses blasted a concentrated beam of minty goodness, freshening as it gushed in one nostril, out the other, down the back of her throat, and probably out her ears; Twilight couldn’t rightly tell as an overwhelming tingling sensation dominated her muzzle like Applejack at the Ponyville rodeo.
“Oh Cewesha, id ib by node!” Twilight howled, kicking her hooves and clutching her muzzle as olfactory sensory overload threatened cranial eruption of the worst kind. It wasn’t even that it hurt, per se, but simply that sniffing a freshly crushed sprig of mint was normally enough to clear one’s sinuses. So, when a gallon or so of extra strength toothpaste was used in accidental replacement of a proper nasal wash, it was a touch overwhelming as one could well expect.
“Ged ib out! Ged ib oudda mah node!” Twilight wailed, frantically attempting to teleport away from the mess in her schnoz. “Oh, dah mindt... id burnig!”
“Well, I told you to sit still!” Colgate said, throwing up her hooves in exasperation. “Not even I like mint enough to snort it. Is that a librarian thing?”
“No, ith a bad thig! Ith bery bery bad thig!” Twilight snapped, squeezing her muzzle from base to tip like a tube of toothpaste with very much the same effect.
“Huh, so I’m not crazy for never having tried it before...” Colgate mused in a thoughtful tone before glancing up to find herself being fixed with a most furious glare.
“You are moth debinidly cwathy,” declared, pointing a quavering hoof at the mare who simply stared back, nonplussed. “Lodo. Inthane! Compwedely oudda huh gowrd!”
“Hmph! Well, if you can’t even be nice about it, then you’re welcome to leave!” Colgate huffed, pressing a few buttons and watching her machine power down. “Pinkie Pie asked me to treat you to a good time, and I tried my best, but you... you’re just mean!”
"Pinkie Pie asked her to... wait, mean?!?" “Mead?” Twilight snapped back, calling after Colgate as she fled the room. “I diddn poin a lader at thom pony faeth!” Muttering as she popped free of the binding paste and fell onto the floor with a plop, Twilight confirmed within herself to find a spell to replace any and all need for a toothbrush as she waddled out of the office and back towards the park, ready to give Pinkie a piece of her mind. Carefree as always, Pinkie Pie was right where Twilight had left her, every bit as happy and completely unaware that her friend was stalking over.
“Shucks, bein’ a farm pony is a lot o’ work, even when it ain’t the autumn harvest!” Groaning as she stretched her back and wiped sweat from her forehead, Apple Bloom shot the summer sun a dirty look before returning her gaze to the freshly tilled earth. With fall only a few weeks away and most of her summer spent trying every nonsensical ploy her friends could conjure to claim her ever-elusive mark of destiny, her summer chores had piled high like the carts would be with apples by the turn of the month. Sneaking a peek this way and that and finding neither of the overbearing taskmasters known as “siblings” to be present, the filly turned back to the rows of fertile soil awaiting their daily shower and adopted a stern glare.
“Now, don’t y’all go gettin’ me in trouble, ya hear?” she warned, waving a hoof at the watering can. “Ah’m just takin’ a little break, an’ ah’ll be back in just a little bit t’ cool ya off.” Darting away before any witty rebuttal could be made, the filly galloped towards the fringe of the apple fields and nestled up against one of the trees, releasing a contented sigh as the fruit-laden boughs sheltered her from the heat. “Ah wish ah were a plant right about now,” the filly commented behind closed eyes, pausing as a refreshing breeze tickled her coat. “They don’t have to do any chores. Hay, ah could go fer a nice cool shower mahself.”
Apple Bloom hadn’t expected the elements to grant her request, and she didn’t immediately respond to the sudden cool upon her brow with anything more than an appreciative moan. As a trickle dribbled down her cheek, she blinked sleepily and brushed the moisture away before staring at her hoof in utter confusion. “Ah’m... sweatin’ cold water? That don’t make any sense at all... wait a minute, what’s all this?” No longer interested in her hoof, the filly’s attention drew towards the white powder quickly melting into grass. “Snow? Why ‘n tarnation is there snow in the middle of summer?” Her answer was much closer than she would have guessed, and as she lifted her eyes, she found herself staring into the eyes of a stallion far more fatigued than she.
The unicorn’s disheveled mane was likely once as pure as the snow that seemed to manifest around him at seemingly random intervals, but neglect and dust had marred its ivory sheen. Streaks of turquoise dispersed throughout his hair led her vision down to vacant eyes of the same brilliant color, but there was no sparkle to be found in his heavy-lidded gaze. Apple Bloom’s attention lingered for just a few moments on his dirt-encrusted azure coat before lifting her eyes to the fruit that swayed gently in the breeze. Her contemplation ended shortly after it began as a faint pulse of shimmering light produced a few more flakes of snow, and as a few lighted on her snout, the open-minded filly decided that the newcomer could use a proper welcome.
“Uh, hey there, mister,” Apple Bloom ventured, standing up. “Thanks fer coolin’ me off with yer magic! Spot o’ snow felt right nice.” Receiving not so much as a glance, she took a step closer and shivered as her hoof crunched down on a small collection of chilly flakes. “Ya seem mighty interested in our apples,” she commented, noting his slender form. “Ah might not be as good at buckin’ as mah sis, an’ it’s still a little early in the season, but ah’m sure ah could knock a few down.” The stallion stirred, blinking as if waking from a dream.
“...Why?” he asked, his voice as quiet as the streets on cold winter’s night.
“Why?” Apple Bloom chuckled, completely unfazed. “So you could eat a few, o’ course! It ain’t that complicated. Pardon me fer sayin’ so, but ya look like you could stand t’ eat a bit more.”
“That’s probably true,” he replied, dropping his gaze and inspecting himself with apparent disinterest.
“Just sit tight. Ah’ll have those apples down before you can say ‘ponyfeathers!’” Taking her position at the base of the tree, Apple Bloom braced her forelegs and bucked a good Apple family buck. Beaming proudly as she rounded up all three of the apples that she’d harvested proper, she laid them in front of the newcomer and watched with pride as he took a bite, paused, and then demolished the remainder with startling speed. “Goodness, mister! How long’s it been since ya last had a proper meal, anyhow?”
“It’s been... perhaps a week?” he replied after a short pause. “Two weeks, maybe?”
“Two weeks?” Apple Bloom exclaimed, gawking for a moment before shaking off her surprise. “Shoot, ah’m surprised ya didn’t start gnawin’ on the tree if it’s been two weeks! Let me get ya some more.” Not waiting for a confirmation, Apple Bloom galloped back to the base of the tree, but paused as the stallion’s voice sounded again.
“This is a farm, isn’t it?”
“Uh... yeah, but what’s that got to do with anythin’?” Apple Bloom replied, cocking her head to the side.
“I’ve no money with which to pay you.” The filly simply grinned: city ponies were just plain silly, sometimes.
“Well, now y’all got me confused in the noggin; ah can’t remember sayin’ anythin’ ‘bout payin’ fer them apples! Ah hope ah’m not speakin’ fancy again...” Chuckling as the stallion took longer than expected to comprehend her cheery sarcasm, Apple Bloom gave the tree another buck and nudged another apple towards the hungry traveler. “Hospitality don’t cost a pony nothin’ at all,” Apple Bloom quipped, offering up the fruit with outstretched hooves. “Ah ain’t seen you before, so you must be new t’ Ponyville. We may have a few bad apples, but most everypony ‘round here are the nicest ponies you’ll ever meet! Say, ah never caught yer name. Ah’m Apple Bloom.”
“I...” the stallion started, hesitating.
“Apple Bloom! Where in tarnation have ya got to?” a voice suddenly called out, causing the little pony to jump.
“Ponyfeathers! That’s mah sis,” Apple Bloom muttered she spied Applejack wandering amongst the trees looking cross. Knowing it was better to cut her losses and own up to slacking rather than try and evade her sibling’s searching eyes, the filly paid the stranger an apologetic glance and bellowed back. “Ah’m over here, sis!”
“What’re you doin’ all the way out...” Applejack started to say, falling silent as she found her little sister in a remote location with an unknown stallion. “...here,” she finished, almost growling out the word. "That pony looks shadier than the tree they’re sittin’ under, mane all mussed up an’ dirtier than some o’ the pigs." “Apple Bloom, get over here.” She responded promptly with every bit as much bull-headed stubbornness as her sister might have, stalking over and meeting her glare with one of her own.
“Ah was just takin’ a little break, sis! Ah wasn’t ditchin’ work, honest!” Apple Bloom protested defensively. “Ah knew you’d be on me like bees t’ flowers if ah left fer too long, so ah came out here t’ get away.”
“You’ve had all summer t’ play with yer friends, and you’ve barely been workin’ an hour,” Applejack countered. “Besides, as much as ah’ve let you get away with lately, ah’d say you used up most o’ yer breaks already.”
“But...”
“Don’t start with me, Apple Bloom,” Applejack interjected, shaking her head. “You know as well as ah do that everypony has t’ pitch in ‘round here.”
“...but it’s hot, sis,” the little filly moped, scuffing at the dirt. Rather than further lecture, there passed a few moments of silence before an airy sigh gave the little filly cause to smile.
“All right, all right... take mah hat,” Applejack said softly, placing her prized stetson on the filly’s head. “Ah know it ain’t comfortable out here, but we really need t’ hustle an’ get caught up before the fall harvest comes around, or we’re gonna have a city full o’ hungry ponies. Ah’ll be along in a few t’ help, but in the meantime ah need you t’ get back to it, alright?”
“You got it, sis! Bye mister- uh... whateveryernameis!” the filly called over her shoulder as she bolted back towards the fields, nearly colliding with a tree as the oversized hat slipped over her eyes. Her sister’s caring smile faded as she turned back to the stallion who had remained quiet through the entire exchange, regarding him with apprehension.
“Ah don’t suppose you’d like t’ explain why exactly you were hangin’ out here alone with mah little sister?” she asked, scrutinizing his every move.
“I was drawn to the smell of food that wasn’t grass,” he replied readily, sounding neither upset nor put off by the accusatory nature of Applejack’s prodding. “That little filly was kind enough to allow me a few apples. I’d be grateful if you thanked her properly for her kindness.”
“That’s it, huh?” "He ain’t showin’ any signs o’ lyin’, but somethin’ about him just don’t sit right with me..." Though she couldn’t pinpoint any specific cause for her suspicion, the sense that something was amiss with the stallion grew as he gave an almost imperceptible shiver, sending a few flakes of snow floating to the ground. "Ah must be crazy fer askin’ this... he’s likely t’ think ah’m all kinds o’ daft." “Are you...” she started, sighing as she mentally rolled her eyes at herself one more time. “You ain’t cold, are ya? Ah can see ya shiverin’ over there.” Her hackles raised as the stallion’s once distant eyes focused, bearing down on her with an intensity that brought Fluttershy’s stare to mind. Applejack said nothing as his expression softened again, the weariness bowing his head towards the ground.
“Always...” he replied as he turned away, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “There can be no warmth when the heart lies buried beneath the frost.”
"Ferget feelin’ daft: this pony’s got problems." As reluctant as she was to let the bizarre pony anywhere near her friends and family, Applejack knew that shivering in the late summer heat was simply unnatural, though given the snow that continued to manifest around his hooves with rising frequency, she could see that he had problems. "Lucky fer you, ah know a pony who loves to solve problems." “Look, ah can’t dilly dally, an’ you don’t look like yer up fer much conversation,” Applejack began, trotting a few paces forward and stopping as she felt a substantial shift in temperature. "Dear Celestia, even the air near ‘im is cold..."
“Ah ain’t exactly sure what it is yer doin’ out here, but if you need somepony t’ help you with yer, uh... snow problem... ah know just the pony you should try talkin’ to.” Applejack waited a few moments for a reply or some kind of interest, but the unicorn made no motion to acknowledge her words. “Her name’s Twilight,” she began again, ignoring the conflicting emotions within. On one hoof, she’d just as soon see the stallion leave town so she could stop wondering why the hay he made her feel so anxious, but her friendly nature couldn’t simply send him away. “She’s the town librarian, an’ callin’ her a prodigy when it comes t’ magic is puttin’ things lightly. If anypony can figure out why yer so cold, it’ll be her.”
“I...” the stallion began, faltering. “I doubt that-” Without warning, a violent shiver passed over the stallion, causing his legs to buckle and bringing him to the ground. Applejack impulsively rushed forward, but made it only a few steps before finding herself in danger of sharing the stranger’s condition: the air around him had grown numbingly cold. Fearful and yet filled with awe, the mare swallowed hard as the snowfall became constant, but as seconds ticked by and she struggled to find her voice, the unprecedented storm proved to be brief. Rising shakily, the stallion turned to glance at Applejack and shivered again. “...where can I find the library?”
“It’s, uh... just down the road a ways,” she replied hesitantly, pointing a hoof. “It’s built into a giant oak tree, ya can’t miss it.”
“Thank you... for the directions,” he replied amidst shallow breaths.
“Hey, are you gonna be alright?” Applejack called after him as he took a few steps and stumbled.
“This is... normal. I’ll make it.”
“Normal?” she murmured to herself, letting her gaze drop to the frostbitten grass. The fronds that had once been full of life lay withered where the stallion’s hooves had once rested, and the flakes that had fallen glistened in the sun like the morning dew. “Ain’t nothin’ normal about any o’ this. Ah hope sendin’ him t’ Twilight was the right thing t’ do.” Stealing one last glance at the hoary enigma trotting away, the farmer returned to the chores at hoof, eager to give her mind something else to focus on and maybe, just maybe figure out why the hay she found him to be so disconcerting: the reason that lay hidden amongst all the others.
While Applejack quickly found distraction in the strain of manual labor, the newcomer to Ponyville was forced to fight his constant, overwhelming fatigue every step of the way. Any unicorn that dabbled in magic for anything more than basic levitation could attest that prolonged use left one just as weary as any day out in the fields, but none of the townsfolk, who paid him not the slightest bit of attention, could possibly have comprehended the victory that couldn’t be felt with each and every hoof placed in front of the other. With his magic growing more out of control with each passing night and his rest anything but peaceful, managing any kind of lucidity was often too much to ask. Gritting his teeth and blinking as his vision grew blurry, the stallion peered at the wavering mirage off in the distance, noted that it had quite a bit more green than most anything else in the town, and hoped to whatever power might grant him mercy that it was the tree which he sought.
Shedding what precious little strength still remained in the snow that ever swirled around his form, the stallion pressed on, knowing that he would either find momentary solace in the distraction of another world, wrought of words, or unconsciousness would come to take him as it had so many times: he dared not believe in this mare the farmer spoke of. Finding the structure to indeed be his destination, he lifted a hoof to knock and lost his balance, landing bodily against the door with a soft and painless whump. That was one of the few benefits that he’d found with being completely numb: things hurt a whole lot less. Closing his eyes and fighting for breath, he lifted his hoof and knocked once... twice... and a third, letting his hoof remain in place.
"This door... is really quite comfortable..." The thought had barely finished before the support was suddenly removed. He barely felt the impact as he crumpled on the floor amidst a flurry of snow, and though he vaguely heard somepony’s voice call out, he simply lay there for a time watching the room swirl. Eventually, his eyes refocused, and he turned towards the speaker with growing confusion.
“Hey, are you okay?” the voice came again. “I didn’t realize you were leaning against the door, or I would have been extra careful.”
"A... pony? No, not a pony..." “...dragon?” he murmured, staring at the soft lavender scales and green spines.
“Uh... yeah, I’m Spike,” the resident custodian of Golden Oaks replied, motioning to himself with a claw. “I haven’t seen you around before, so you must be new to Ponyville. Don’t worry; even though I’m a dragon, I’m not dangerous,” Spike attested with a chuckle. “Do you need help up?”
"Probably..." After a few attempts to move were rejected by his limbs, the stallion rose shakily to his hooves, swaying unsteadily. "Don’t see... anypony else. But... there sure are a lot of..." “...books?” the stallion mumbled, not daring to point lest he lose his balance.
“Uh, yeah, we’ve got plenty. This is a library, after all,” Spike replied, scratching his head in puzzlement. "This guy looks like he needs a week of sleep more than he needs a good book. Phew, and a shower too! I’ll bet Twilight would be proud. Where the hay did all this snow come from, though? It’s the middle of summer!" Being one frequently involved in exploratory magic, Spike couldn’t help but take an immediate interest in the half-conscious unicorn struggling with basic motor control, yet still managing to coat the floor in frost. His questions of “how” were soon answered as a pale blue light produced another flurry of flakes, though he stowed his curiosity for a moment and beckoned the stallion inside.
“Come on in! I’m sure we have whatever it is you’re looking for, and I’ll be the one to help you find it. I know these shelves like the back of my claw.” Not so much concerned as bemused by the wobbly stallion staggering inside, the assistant failed to contain a snicker as the stallion leaned back to view the top shelf and lost his balance, plopping him down on his rump. “Overwhelmed, huh?” Spike commented with a touch of pride. “Yeah, Twilight keeps this place pretty jam packed, and she’s always finding a way to cram more books onto the shelves. Oh, Twilight’s the librarian, by the way. She’s out right now, but I can help you find whatever you’d like: adventure, historical fiction... steamy romance,” he added, snickering as he imagined how Twilight might respond to the knowledge that he was fully aware of her “secret” stash.
"No, not... not romance... Need a spell to... help me sleep..." “Do... you have anything on... on...” "What was... I just thinking?" Pale light and a subsequent shiver gave just a moment of focus to the stallion, who finally managed to say, “...magic?”
"Yeah, Twilight has to meet this guy. They’d get along like bread and butter." Striding purposefully towards the shelves, Spike motioned to its entirety and simply said “Ta-da~!” The stallion just stared, and snowed. “I can’t really call it its own ‘wing,’ but everything on this and the next three shelves are all about magic. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
"More... what? Oh... types... there are many... but I’m..." “Un... unicorn.” Spike glanced up for a moment, scanning the titles before turning back to his patron with vague amusement.
“Yeah... that really doesn’t narrow it down much,” he informed the stallion. “Let’s see, maybe I can help you narrow it down. Are you looking for something on wards, maybe? We also have books on charms, hexes, transformation- pretty much anything you can think of!” The unicorn’s head sank to the floor with a soft thud, partially muffling his unsure reply.
"Can’t think... what it would be under..." Another few flakes fluttered to the floor, again sparking his mind. “...warm?” he murmured, vaguely aware that he wasn’t making much sense.
“Warm, huh?” Spike mused aloud, perusing the titles. “Are you sure you don’t need something about plumbing? It looks like you’ve got a leak,” he teased, snickering a little but falling silent as the stallion simply stared back with vacant eyes. “S-sorry, I’ll just um... yeah, warm. Let’s see, where was that...” he mumbled, wracking his brain. “I know Twilight was using an elementary fire spell in one of her experiments recently... ah ha! This one, I think!” Roused by the elevation in volume, the stallion lifted his head and stared blankly at the tome laid before him.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a chapter in here about fire spells,” he explained, though he couldn’t help but ask the question lurking in the back of his mind. “You know, if you’re really so cold, can’t you just stop... snowing?” He didn’t respond right away, but instead opened the tome to the first page before doing anything else.
“Can’t,” he managed, not looking away from the spell book.
“‘Can’t?’” Spike murmured, growing concerned. "Twilight always says that magic only happens when you make it happen, but if he really can’t make it stop, then he’s in worse condition than I thought." Grabbing an assortment of reading material for the stallion to browse, Spike went back to his chores, keeping a close eye on his guest as he worked. As the time passed and the stallion grew more intent in his studies, the frequency of the intermittent magic releases seemed to lessen, but even still, Spike couldn’t shake the strange sense of urgency bidding him hasten Twilight’s return. Straightening up a stack of parchments and aligning the quills just so, the dragon decided that his guest didn’t deserve to wait, and wandered over.
“Hey, um...” he started, awkwardly fiddling with his claws as empty eyes slowly locked on his. “Did you find anything yet?” Though somewhat delayed, the stallion closed the book in front of him and motioned to the front with what almost sounded like a tinge of excitement.
“Daring Do.” Short on words, perhaps, but with every interaction Spike became more enthralled with the idea of introducing Twilight to the mystery stallion.
“That’s one of Twilight’s favorite series,” Spike chuckled, nodding his approval. “I’m kind of surprised she’s not back yet, actually. She’s the one who manages all the books that leave the library. I’d let you check something out myself, but she’d really protective of the books. You can just hang out here, okay?”
“But... the snow...”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Spike replied, dismissing the issue with the wave of a claw. “I’ll clean it up when I get back. Just... try to keep it from messing up the book, okay? Especially the Daring Dos,” he emphasized. “Seriously, Twilight would have a fit if she found water wrinkles on her stuff.”
“Thank you,” the guest replied, dipping his snout in thanks.
“Don’t mention it!” Spike quipped, jogging over to the door. “Just sit tight, and I’ll be back soon.” With a slam, quiet returned to the library. The stallion couldn't say how long he stared at the door, or why he found reason to do so at all. Perhaps he was simply too tired to focus, but the reading had helped, and with that single motivation he returned to a world that, no matter how fragmented, would always come back together in the end.
"Hmm hmm hmm... this grass feels really good!" Pinkie Pie said to herself, rolling one way and then back the other. "Twilight sure is taking a while. That must be because she's absolutely loving the special treatment! Still, not even I took this long, and I was so excited, I could hardly sit still!" Pinkie's intent to ruminate upon the matter further was staved off by the floral scent of a nearby lily, which she gave an appreciative sniff before flopping onto her back and spreading out full stretch. "Oki doki lokie! Guess I just have to wait! Talk about bo~ring! But... I guess it's okay since it’s for Twilight."
A sky so blue slowly faded from view as lucid azure eyes gently closed. The mare took a moment of quiet in the early afternoon to silently thank her favorite egghead; From helping with the twins to teaching her proper sleuthing methods, Twilight had earned a special place in her heart. A sound not quite as pleasant as the whispering wind or trilling birdsong caused an ear twitch unaffiliated with her Pinkie senses, and aside from a most regrettable case of the frownies and gooey coat, she opened her eyes to exactly the pony she wanted to see.
"Hiya, Twilight!" Pinkie chortled, waving with both hooves for a moment before pulling them back to her chest and beaming brightly. Were Twilight not busy grinding her teeth in abject vexation and currently without proper words with which to describe her displeasure, she would have commented on such an endearingly adorable action. "So, how was it?"
"H-how... how was..." Twilight sputtered, stomping in a circle and leaving a blob of toothpaste with every heavy hoof fall. While many words sprang to mind, she forced herself to try and choose her vocabulary carefully for the sake of her friend and any young ponies that may be within hearing range.
"Speechless? I know, right?" Pinkie interjected, leaping upright and mimicking Twilight's rage step with a touch more pep, always up for a dance. Following Twilight's lead as the mare ground to a halt and simply stared in disbelief, Pinkie couldn't help but lean forward as she noticed Twilight's mane was in a disastrous state of disarray. "Wow, you must have really had fun if your mane came out looking like... hey, like mine! We're twins! You could be, like, Twilight Sprinkle!"
"I could also be your worst nightmare!" Twilight howled, stopping Pinkie Pie short as she sat down and cocked her head.
"No you couldn't," she stated with absolute confidence. "There is no way you could ever be scarier than... than..." she stammered, hiding behind her hooves as her whole body quaked with fear. Slowly did she dare look out, and it was in brilliant violet eyes that couldn't scorch the mare with the seething lanes of agitation that Pinkie dared to utter her darkest of fears. "Candy prohibition." The words came out in a hushed whisper, and after a few moments of silence wherein the Element of Magic lay on the verge of going supernova, Pinkie Pie popped upright and broke into a grin. "Don't worry, Miss Sprinkle! Celestia would never ever outlaw candy, ever! Poor Colgate would be so sad, and- how did you like the special treatment? I bet-"
"It's 'Sparkle,' not 'Sprinkle,' and it was the worst, most uncomfortable thing I have ever had done to me!" Pinkie Pie quailed as the sudden outburst dashed her hopes against the rocks, and she could do little else but sit and weather the storm. "Tell me, Pinkie: does your idea of 'fun' involve being pasted to a chair while some orally obsessive mare uses some... some cannon to... to... well? Does it?!?"
"...I thought it kinda tickled, actually," Pinkie replied, though her demure response sailed over the head of a mare in the midst of a heated rage. Pinkie Pie didn't quite have the strength to offer rebuttal in the face of her friend's venting: her efforts to spread just a little more laughter had failed, and she knew it.
"Tickled? I'm sorry, but consolidating toothpaste into a laser beam strikes me as just slightly overboard, Pinkie!” Twilight snapped back. “I mean, it got up my nose and everything! I’ll be smelling mint for weeks! My brain is minty fresh, Pinkie. Brains are not supposed to be minty fresh!” Even though her antics were often more welcome than not, Pinkie was no stranger to raised voices, but hearing it come from Twilight instantly deflated the mare’s enthusiasm, and Twilight heaved a sigh as the mare cast her eyes to the ground.
“I mean, whose idea was it to turn toothpaste into a laser? Who does that?” At the end of her rant, Twilight felt a wave of nausea pass over her, the onset of regret instantaneous as she beheld Pinkie and her misty eyes. On the verge of tears for a great plan that flopped hard, she slowly raised her hoof in solemn admission of guilt.
"It was my idea," she said quietly, sniffling as she hung her head low. "Colgate wanted some help finding a better way to clean everypony's teeth, so we took a few days and tried to figure it out. I didn't really understand all the complicated stuff, and it made me feel kind of silly..." Twilight would have laughed at the notion of Pinkie being distraught over feeling "silly" if it weren't for the fact that she could see it was much closer to depression over a perceived lack of intelligence.
"But... then why did you keep working on it?" Twilight asked, taken aback by the mare's dedication despite being more fragile than most knew. Memories of the time they tried to plan her a party filtered in slow, bringing with them a pang of guilt. The corners of a once jubilant mare's mouth slowly began to curl upwards, forming her favorite of expressions: a smile, timid and unsure. It was then that Twilight learned an important lesson; friends put their friends needs before their own, and are worth being made a little uncomfortable, sometimes. A smile, albeit a rueful one, returned to the student's face as she was once more taught by a most unlikely teacher the depth of her friend’s devotion.
"I just wanted to see your smile sparkle." Unsure whether the proper response was to facehoof for being caught off guard by so simple a motive or simply grovel for doubting Pinkie yet again, Twilight accepted her wordless chastisement before taking a seat next to the pouting pony.
“You know,” Twilight began, pausing momentarily as Pinkie glanced over at her. “I... think I could give it another try.”
“Really?”
“Rea-”
“Thankyou!” With an oxygen-depriving squeeze to accompany her jubilant interjection, Pinkie gladly accepted Twilight and the accompanying toothpaste with the grace and dignity one would expect from her. Tolerating her friend’s overbearing manner with the patience librarians are famed for possessing, Twilight coughed a little and grimaced as she was snatched into zealously friendly hooves. Her expression began to relax as Pinkie adjusted her grip so as to allow comfortable breathing, but Twilight’s lungs were cut no slack as they hastily filled to the brim and formed a startled yelp as a young dragon’s voice broke the silence.
“Uh... what were you two, um...” Spike began, looking from pony to pony before asking the most pressing question in his mind. “...is that frosting?”
“Toothpaste,” Twilight stated flatly.
“You do know that you’re not supposed to wear it, right?”
“Yes, Spike, I’m very much aware.”
“Okay, if you say so,” he muttered, dropping the subject. “Anyways, I wasn’t trying to interrupt... whatever caused...”
“You didn’t,” Twilight reassured the claw motioning to all of her and the dragon it was attached to. “I went to the dentist, and it didn’t go well, okay? Did you need something?”
“Yeah!” Pinkie chimed in. “Me and Twilight were sharing our first ever super-sappy extra-minty toothpaste hug!”
“Your what now?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Twilight cut in. “Spike, did you have something to tell me?”
“Oh! Right. Twilight, you have somepony waiting for you in the library.”
“For me?” she murmured, tilting her head in mild perplexion. "I don’t remember having any other plans for the morning... In fact, I made sure that I’d have the whole morning to myself, but that clearly didn’t happen..." She couldn’t help but shoot Pinkie a brief smile before turning back to Spike. “Well, that’s odd... I wasn’t aware that anypony would be coming by, or else I would have come home already.”
“Well, he might want to check out some books, but I-”
"He?" Completely unaware of the fact that her ears were now pointing towards the noonday sun, Twilight stood entranced by the ramifications of what was assuredly a most welcome pronoun. “Spike, you just said ‘he,’ right? That’s what you said?”
“Uh...”
“It is! He said ‘he,’ that’s what he said~!” Pinkie Pie squealed, prancing over.
“He! ‘He’ refers to a male, and ‘male’ means it’s a stallion!” Twilight shouted in unintentional and thoroughly unrestrained exultation. “A stallion! Not only a stallion, but a stallion that likes books! Spike, do you know what this means? He likes books enough to actually check... them... out!” Twilight concluded, thrusting her face close to her assistant’s. He blinked. “Somepony is actually going to check out books, Spike! And it’s totally a stallion! Yeee~!”
“She really doesn’t get out much, does she?” Pinkie Pie commented, watching as the mare skipped like a filly, giggling all the while.
“Nuh uh, but I didn’t think it was this bad,” Spike murmured in reply. “It’s almost like she thinks the first literate stallion she meets is gonna be her boyfr-”
“Spike! Let’s go!” Given neither a choice in the matter nor time for thought as he suddenly found himself perched precariously atop a rearing mare, Spike clung tight as Twilight’s feverish excitement spurred her on as well as any good smack to the rump. While slightly perplexed by the intensity of her reaction, he couldn’t well hold it against her, either. Watching her brother marry had brought her immeasurable joy at first, but as the calculating pony’s thoughts invariably turned to herself and the utter lack of romantic involvement within her own life, sobriety held the mare in dowr spirits for a good week following the ceremony. Outwardly, she had recovered, but if her actions were any indication, the subject was still close to the front of her mind, and it was for that exact reason that Spike chose not to rain on her parade. That, and the idea of Twilight trying to make her first impression while obliviously coated in toothpaste was hilarious for him to imagine. Still, if she even wanted to make it to bat, she’d have to tone it down a notch.
“Twilight?”
“Mmmhmm?” came the cheerful murmur, sounding either wistful or lovestruck: Spike honestly couldn’t tell.
“It’s not Daring Do day,” Spike said, referencing one of the greatest days in the year for the eager bibliophile.
“Oh, come on!” Twilight replied, craning her neck around to peer back at Spike. “I’m not acting that excited, am I?” Two arms folded across a scaled chest, conveying an emphatic “yes.” “Okay, maybe I am overreacting a little,” she conceded, “but I can’t help but be excited! This is an amazing opportunity!”
“Opportunity for what? Flirting?” Spike teased, chuckling as Twilight’s ears flopped down. “We all know how well that’s worked for you.”
“How the hay am I supposed to understand something so confusing without some kind of reference guide?” Twilight retorted, stomping a hoof in frustration as memories both recent and awkward came drifting back. “Walk this way, use these words, do this, do that- it’s too much to remember! Honestly, I don’t know how Rarity expects me to learn without a good hard copy of all that crazy mumbo jumbo and a few dozen hours of practice...”
“So if you’re not planning on coaxing him into asking for a dinner date, why are you getting so worked up about meeting some stallion you haven’t even seen?” Spike asked. At first, all he got was an exasperated snort and some unintelligible mumbling, but after stalking a short distance and taking a few deep breaths as Cadence had taught her, Twilight spoke up.
“It is possible I’m more excited than I should be, but it’s not what it probably looks like.” Rounding a bend and pausing as her beloved library came into view, Twilight let her grin stretch a little wider as a soft sigh escaped her lips. “You see,” she began as she started towards the giant oak tree, “I’ve made lots of great friends here in Ponyville, but all of them are girls. I don’t have any male friends at all, really.”
“It’s not like there’s a whole lot to choose from,” Spike offered, eliciting a chuckle from the mare.
“It’s true my options here would be less than ideal,” Twilight agreed, “but that’s not really the point. Shining Armor is the only stallion I’ve ever spent any time around, and after he left to train for the royal guard, I saw him even less. I don’t really know anything about them: what they’re like, how to talk to them, how their feelings work... anything! Rarity’s ‘guide’ to flirting pretty much only taught me how to embarass myself, and that’s something I can do without some stallion asking me why I keep correcting his grammar. Don’t you see, Spike? There’s a huge gap in my studies about friendship.”
“So that’s all this is?” Spike questioned, knowing full well the truth of his friend’s words. Although her letters had become fewer as her friendship grew and troubles became less frequent, the student’s excitement for learning lessons and sharing them with her teacher had only grown since being sent to Ponyville. That didn’t mean he couldn’t poke a little fun, though. “Are you sure you aren’t thinking about some ‘extra curricular-’”
“Spike!” Twilight barked, struggling to keep a straight face as her cheeks shifted in hue. I wasn’t before... much... but I am now. Great. “You’re way too young to be talking about that sort of thing. It sounds like somepony wants to spend their afternoon dusting underneath the books.” She failed to contain a chuckle as she glanced behind her and found her assistant with both claws guarding the gates of wanton wordiness, and with a racing heart she drew near to the library.
Pausing only briefly outside the door to catch her breath, Twilight felt a shudder of anticipation wiggle through her from the tip of her snout to the end of her tail, and with complete lack of ceremony or grace, the mare burst through the door and found herself entranced by the scene that lay before her. Her gaze were drawn first to the soft, almost feminine features of the stallion’s muzzle construction, then to his mane that glinted with every minute movement of his head. Worn longer than most stallions would dare and draped over an eye, a few flakes fluttered down as he absentmindedly swept his mane from his vision, catching the sunlight and shimmering as they danced their way to the floor. Noting the sullied tufts of white fur around his hooves as she lifted her eyes to his cutie mark, a heart of a rosen hue framed within a snowflake, and then finally to the tome he held loosely with a hoof on either side.
As if pulled straight from one of her delusional late-night fantasies where coherent thought had long since caved to sleepless delerium, Twilight dismissed the stallion’s disheveled condition and instead found one thought even more enticing than all the rest: her entrance hadn’t broken his concentration. There lay a stallion so enthralled by literature that her abrupt entrance utterly devoid of tact or stealth caused him to not so much as bat an eye while her own drank in the scene with ravenous approval. Athletic prowess had nothing on the sight and scent of an honest-to-Celestia stallion studying: Twilight was breathless. Helpless, really, as her hooves slowly drew her closer while her heart melted amidst the cool of Winter’s gift to ponykind. Only vaguely aware that Spike had at some point dismounted and now sat snickering quietly as she drew near, Twilight couldn’t help but yield to her wonder as a gentle magical aura bathed her coat in pale blue and dusted her hoof with a few more flakes.
"I... I wasn’t prepared for this." Research’s refrain whispered in the quietude as the stallion turned the page, and Twilight offered her backup vocals in a shallow gasp. "I really had only been thinking about friendship before, but now, I... the way he’s holding that book, it’s... it’s just so..." “So sexy...” were the very first words she spoke to the one she hoped to befriend, and also the spell that broke his captivation within the world of literature. Feeling her heart flutter as lurid aquamarine eyes denied the allure of pages yet unread and instead focused upon her, Twilight accepted the warmth that filled her chest and cherished the lightheadedness that came as he opened his mouth and spoke.
“I... what?” he asked quietly, peering back in confusion at the mare slowly leaning closer. Too enthralled to be bothered her desire’s lack of articulation and unaware the she had in fact spoken aloud, Twilight swallowed and let just a few more words of poetry slip unrestrained from her tongue.
“I’d like to be a book,” she whispered, taking a slow step forward. “Could I be your book?” With all the gentleness of a rock testing the structural integrity of the nearest window, tranquility shattered as Spike’s juvenile laughter flooded the house. Irate, Twilight whirled around and fixed him in a furious glare that only seemed to provoke more laughter. “Spike, quiet down! Can’t you see he was trying to study?”
“I... I’m sorry, Twilight!” Spike wheezed in between snickers. “It’s just... that was the... the best pickup line I’ve ever heard you use!”
“What was?” she asked, tilting her head.
“‘Could I be your... your b-book!’” the breathless dragon barely managed to get out as he rolled about the floor, clutching his sides. “That’s way better than ‘you can study me all night!’ It looks like Rarity’s training is really paying off!”
“Can I be...” she started, her voice trailing off as the words resonated within her mind. "No... nononono, I didn’t! Please tell me I didn’t... say that out loud?" Mortified as she turned around, she took one look at the blank stare and felt every last ounce of self-confidence drop the pit of her stomach. Sitting down hard as both hooves moved in to cover her treacherous word-spewing maw, Twilight shuddered as a searing wave of heat swept her head to hoof. With her ears gone flaccid and an all-too-familiar churning in her stomach, the mare acknowledged the newcomer’s puzzlement with a pitiful squeak and disappeared with a lavender flash.
Concerned only with finding the most isolated location in the house and never showing her face again, Twilight reappeared just outside the bathroom and rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind her and sliding down into a sitting position as every bad feeling ever seemed to fill her mouth with the taste of failure. Assumptions that she couldn’t possibly feel any worse were debunked in seconds as she glimpsed herself in the mirror, still covered in dried toothpaste and her mane terribly out of place. Turning away as tears crept into the corner of her eyes, she started the flow of water and stepped into the shower, shutting out the world as her head dropped with a thunk to the wall. Making friends with stallions was going to be more formidable a task than she had imagined, but at least she could discard thoughts of romance: she was positively, irrevocably friend-zoned.
"I can’t imagine what he must think of me now..." Downcast, she watched the evidence of dental eccentricity mingle with the water before disappearing down the drain, along with what remained of the excitement that had just moments before filled her with vigor. "He just looked so engaged while he was studying... it’s not something I’ve ever seen in another pony besides myself. Even when Rainbow Dash is reading, she’s always fidgeting or changing positions, but he looked so scholastic, so wise... so gentle." Briefly checking herself over for any last blotches of white, she stepped out and instinctively picked up a brush, levitating it to her mane but pausing with the bristles just a hair away as she viewed the disarray reflected in the mirror.
“What’s the point...” she groaned, releasing the brush and cringing as it fell to the counter with a clatter. Cracking open the door, her drooping ears ears were greeted only with the hush of a deserted library, and with heavy, plodding steps she made straight for her bed, eager to receive what little comfort it could give. With one fleeting glance towards the stairs where all lay quiet, Twilight blocked out the world with her hooves, but even behind her phalanx her mind continued to move. "For just a few moments, I felt like I might actually have a chance to find something deeper than friendship. Then I got too excited, just like I always do..."
Both one of her greatest defining features and also her greatest bane, the mare’s love of exploring new boundaries and the shameless enthusiasm that it brought had resulted in as much triumph as regret. From the whole ordeal with time travel and the city-wide restoration it sparked to her terror of being tardy, fearing a penalty that never came, she watched the scenes drift through her mind with helpless acceptance. It was simply who she was, and she’d come to accept it with the support of her friends, but not everypony was so understanding, and there was no reason to believe that the stallion she’d just doused with desire would find her behavior anything short of disturbed.
Were she not so steeped in introspection, she would have heard the sound of the very same stallion struggling to coax his enervated limbs to carry him up the stairs. Twilight’s assumptions were based upon both logic and previous experience, but she couldn’t have anticipated with how deeply her oddly phrased question had resonated within the stranger dragging himself forward, one step at a time. It was neither desire nor attraction that moved him to overcome his fatigue, but a genuine interest in the mare that would ascribe him such a lofty title as “sexy.” He didn’t find the term particularly apt, nor could he rightly say that there was any traditional allure in the sight of a mare coated in minty paste, but her turnaround from boundless enthusiasm to meekness had, if nothing else, left him perplexed and pleasantly intrigued. Allowing a short breather as he crested the steps, the stallion peered over at the miserable pony with an unkempt mane and found an unfamiliar, though not unpleasant, pressure around the corners of his mouth.
“Excuse me...” At the sound of a gentle voice she’d heard only but once, Twilight slowly peeked out from the shelter of her hooves to find the stallion whom she assumed would find her quirky at best, demented at worst, beholding her with tired eyes that still seemed to convey something more than his fatigue. The wondrous heat that had clouded her mind just minutes before slowly rekindled as he regarded her the same intensity he had given the tome that lay abandoned on the floor below, and though hesitancy told her to turn away, she continued to look on as he quietly made his way over, taking a seat by the edge of the bed. Though the air had chilled from the stallion’s presence, Twilight found it to be pleasantly soothing to the flames coursing through her veins. Her mind raced as it sought for something to say even as it overclocked itself attempting to reason why the first thing she’d heard was something other than mocking laughter, but what was spoken next were two words that absolved her mistakes even as she struggled to understand the meaning behind them.
“What genre?”
Genre? What is he talking about? There aren’t any books up here... “I... I-I’m afraid I don’t understand...” she said quietly, shuddering as a tremor of searing wonder threatened to rob her of coherent speech.
“Forgive me,” he replied quickly, shaking his head. “I wasn’t... being very clear; it’s quite difficult to think when one is... so very tired. You offered to be a book for me, yes?” There really wasn’t any way for her to deny it, and she confirmed the matter with a contrite nod. “I find the idea of living literature to be a curious one. So then, if you were to be a book... what genre would you be?”
"If I was..." Violet eyes grew wider as her heart made the connection, and without so much as a warning, any shame the mare had felt was abolished. There was no sarcasm, no irony in his words, only a hint of genuine amusement that Twilight found more comforting than any verbal reassurance could have been. “I...” she started, hesitating a little as the corners of her mouth dared to stretch wider. “I’d... probably be a book about magic.”
“Magic?” he repeated, his ear twitching involuntarily. “I like magic.” To any other mare, the lopsided grin of a terribly tired pony would have been nothing short of goofy, but to Twilight, the stallion’s smile was freedom: from worries that she’d blown it, from fear that she wouldn’t be accepted unless she followed a strict checklist of skills that she hadn’t honed in the slightest, and from the voices in her head that had told her trying again was a lost cause. Emboldened by the air of acceptance coming from the atypical unicorn seated before her, Twilight steeled her nerves and tested the strength of their metaphor.
“If you’d like, we could... start with the first page?” Twilight offered, her soft tone laced with uncertainty. In the short few moments of his hesitation, she worried that she might have come on too strong yet again, but then came the relief of agreement, spoken with the same hesitation as her own.
“That... that sounds nice...”
“Really?” Twilight whispered, more to herself than her guest. “Well, um... I guess it makes sense to start with introductions: I’m Twilight Sparkle. I’m the librarian here in Ponyville, but you probably already knew that. Um... if I may ask, what kind of story are you?”
“One that is quite poorly written,” he murmured in reply, looking away. “I... cannot guarantee that I will be an enjoyable read. If you find even a few chapters to be to your liking, then... you would be the first in quite some time.” There was a weight behind the words that bothered Twilight. His declaration seemed to be one of warning, as if he was trying to convince her not to open a forbidden tome, but Twilight couldn’t possibly turn away such an opportunity to learn something new about friendship. He was giving her the chance she hadn’t expected to receive, and there was no way she wasn’t going to take it.
“What’s your title?” Slightly taken aback, the stallion just stared back at her for a few moments, contemplating the inquiry.
"This mare, she... makes me feel... awake." That notion alone was enough motivation to ignore the overwhelming exhaustion that still sought to muddle his thoughts. “My name is Cerulean, and my genre... is tragedy.” Even as enraptured as Twilight was quickly finding herself to be with the unusual pony seated close enough that she could have touched his matted mane, she couldn’t help but laugh as something putrid wafted over strong enough to override the scent of wintergreen lingering in her sinuses. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, somewhat confused that his dire warning and subsequent introduction was met with mirth.
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Twilight assured him, beaming back. “It’s just... well, you sounded so regal and serious when you were telling me your name, but... your breath is horrible! Even with mint up my nose, I could still smell it, and- eep!” While the stallion breathed on his hoof and took a tentative whiff, with the result being a mixture of disgust and amusement, Twilight tried not to think about how easy it would be to roast marshmallows with her cheeks, but her worries that she’d misspoken were again laid to rest as Cerulean responded not with indignation, but hearty agreement.
“Goodness, that’s foul,” he murmured, wrinkling his nose before begging the mare’s patience with an apologetic glance. “I apologize for my breath, but toothpaste is a... scarcity when wandering the countryside...”
“And why exactly were you doing that?” Twilight asked, all ears and curious.
“Running from a harrowing past,” he replied dismissively, shrugging off the question. “You know, the usual ‘mysterious stranger’ spiel. That’s a chapter for another time, though.”
“Wait, what? You can’t do that!” Twilight whined, leaping from the bed and facing the stallion.
“It’s foreshadowing,” he retorted with a hint of amusement.
“That’s not foreshadowing!” she objected, grinning even as she pointed an accusatory hoof at Cerulean. “Foreshadowing is hinting at something in advance, not introducing a subject and then dropping it without explanation. That’s not just annoying, it’s plain bad!”
“You’re right...” he conceded quietly, hanging his head and shivering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” No longer perturbed but somewhat taken aback as the stallion’s expression shifted from remorse to something worse, Twilight noted the sudden presence of snow with intellectual interest and unplaceable concern. “I... told you I was poorly written...”
“That’s not...” she started, planning to point out that it was an easy mistake and quite avoidable. Correction was set aside as she watched his ears follow his gaze to the floor, and it was in that moment that Twilight came to see that she wasn’t the only one lacking in confidence. Though she had only just learned Cerulean’s name, she couldn’t stand to deny somepony the very kind of reassurance that she had needed so many times herself. Being very well acquainted with doubt and the burden that it brought, she recognized the unseen weight laid upon on the shoulders of a stallion who looked just as she had not minutes before: despairing and lost. Whether it was the open display of weakness that made him so approachable, devoid of the pride that many stallions carried, or the way he had met her on her own terms, crafting a metaphor from her blunder through which both could communicate, she couldn’t say; what she did know is that the pony seated before her looked like he could use a friend.
“That’s not true...” Twilight assured him, scooting closer and craning her neck until reluctant eye contact was made. “The stories we read were all nothing more than rough drafts at some point. You’ve got great presentation, even if your dialogue could use a little work, and though I don’t know what your story holds, I’m eager to find out - one page at a time.” Uncertainty shone in tired eyes as the stallion slowly lifted his head. “If you’d allow it, I wouldn’t mind being your editor.” It was an incredible leap of faith for Twilight to make the offer as she had, one that she wasn’t even sure that she would be able to fulfill, and her uncertainty was met with understandable hesitation.
“I’ve little more to offer than feeble attempts at wit and the burden of my presence...” For some, that would have been the point at which offers of assistance ceased and the pony abandoned for the overwhelming depression dripping from his words. For Twilight, though, it was a moment of poignant realization that the pony sitting before her was so withdrawn from whatever alleged burden he carried that he was too afraid even to reach for help. Reaching out to a friend, however, was something that Twilight relished as both an opportunity to learn and to spread a little of the magic she’d found with her own companions, and with that in mind she acted upon impulse, covering Cerulean’s hoof with her own.
“You have a story,” Twilight corrected softly, shuddering from the cool of the stallion’s coat. “It’s... one that I can see will have moments of sorrow, but you’ve already proven that there is more to you than sadness. It may not be comfortable, but sometimes it’s the greatest trials that lead to the happiest endings.”
Spoken in true literary cliché, it was not the words themselves that caused Cerulean to lend them credence, but the authenticity with which they were spoken. Rather than exasperation with what could rightly be thought to be considered a patronizing and overly sentimental attempt at being inspirational, he regarded Twilight with perplexion as her timid smile and unabashed earnest swaddled him in comfort like a foal wrapped in warm blankets. Peering at the hoof held over his own, Cerulean wondered if the hope for a second chance was worth the risk of being found out to be a lost cause. All it took to find his answer was the sensation of another’s warmth seeping into his hoof.
“If...” he began quietly, falling silent as he fumbled for words. “If you’re really willing, I would greatly appreciate your help... rewriting my story.”
“Well, no time like the present!” she announced, clapping her hooves together before leaping upright. Entirely unaware of just how eager Twilight was to begin her newest learning experience and not expecting nearly as much boundless enthusiasm for cleaning up the cart wreck of the ages, Cerulean looked back at her with an appropriately deadpan expression entirely devoid of understanding. “I’m not one to put off work for another day, so let’s get right to it! We can’t move on until you’re all cleaned up.”
“Starting the editing already?” Cerulean asked, reluctantly rising to his hooves. Her shift in tone was perplexing, but her attitude was contagious, and he couldn’t really complain about receiving what he’d asked for.
“Of course!” Twilight quipped, opening a cupboard and pulling out a towel. “I may be more accepting than some of my peers when it comes to appearances, but you really could use a shower. Here, take this,” she prompted, holding the towel aloft with her magic. For a moment, the two aura’s formed a soft indigo as Cerulean ensnared the towel with his magic, and Twilight quickly dismissed the notion from her mind before it could have its merry way making metaphors. “Feel free to use my shampoo and conditioner; you might come out smelling a little fruity, but it’ll be a whole lot better than... whatever it is you smell like right now.”
“Stallion?”
“I was thinking ‘gratuitous amounts of sweat and several layers of soil,’ actually, but they’re easy to get confused,” Twilight replied, surprised with how easy the words had come. Generally, one doesn’t jump right into teasing as two lifelong friends might, but fortunately, Cerulean hadn’t seemed to take offense. “Go on, then. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs. When you’re finished getting clean, we’ll see about doing something for your breath.”
With an understanding grin and a passing word of thanks, Cerulean accepted his task wholeheartedly, trotting inside and shutting the door behind him. Turning on the flow with his magic and giddy with anticipation of the coming warmth, he glanced at the mirror and recoiled. Cerulean didn’t count himself a vain pony, but as he turned his head this way and that, really taking stock of himself, he found that the result was an affirmation of his desperate need of grooming and a little more respect for the mare downstairs.
With a soft moan of visceral delight, the stallion stepped into the cascade and bowed his head, peering through half-lidded eyes at the deluge draining from his mane. He’d approached Ponyville only with expectations of passing for another face in the crowd, maybe working for a morsel to balance a diet severely lacking in anything remotely tasty, but instead had been met with kindness to balance the suspicion, and care which counteracted his doubt, if only for a time. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for support as life seeped back into his deadened limbs, bringing clarity to the depth of his fatigue, and with every intent of only taking a few moments of peace, he slipped into unconsciousness and slumped to the floor with thoughts of a lavender mare still dancing through his mind.
It would have been physically impossible for Spike to grin any wider without reaching up with his claws and pulling on either side of his mouth. Regardless of the likelihood of punishment for eavesdropping, he’d managed to catch most all of the conversation, and as Twilight descended the stairs, he paused what he was doing and stared, waiting for her to look his direction. The corners of his mouth began to ache as he maintained his facial expression of exaggerated amusement, and as he watched Twilight wander over to the couch in a daze, he mercifully let his muscles relax, noticing that she didn’t seem nearly as pleased as he. Baffled by the absolute lack of giddy excitement, Spike quickly made his way over and adopted an appropriately gentle tone.
“Hey, Twilight, what’s wrong?” he asked, always one for the subtle approach. Drawing her hooves to her chest, she sat in thought for a few moments before making her reply.
“I messed up, Spike...”
“Messed up?” he replied, unable to keep the indignation from rising in his voice. “Twilight, that was the best interaction you’ve ever had with a stallion!” he fired back, determined not to let the mare be down on herself. Even if it meant getting in trouble by revealing that he’d heard the whole thing, he wasn’t about to let Twilight think herself into a funk. “You stayed mostly on topic, didn’t start correcting his grammar... hay, some of the things you two said could almost be taken as being romantic! At least, romantic for two book-loving ponies,” he added with a chuckle, hoping to elicit the same. To his disappointment, all he received was a sullen nod before Twilight lay her head upon the cushions and loosed a heavy sigh.
“I don’t get it, Twilight,” Spike muttered, climbing up next to his lifelong friend. “You’ve been wanting to find a nice stallion to be friends with for weeks now, and now that you’ve found one, you’re still all depressed and mopey.” Apart from a momentary glance, Twilight made no motion to respond. “You know... after you left, he didn’t ever start reading again.”
“...Really?”
“Really, Twilight,” Spike affirmed. “He stared upstairs for a while, and then he just kind of sat there. He was looking at the book, but I could tell he wasn’t reading ‘cause he never turned the page. Apart from making some more snow, he didn’t do much of anything until you got out of the shower.” His words were meant to instill confidence, but they seemed to have the opposite effect, and Spike found himself growing frantic as his every attempt at comfort only increased Twilight’s dejection. “I really think you made a great impression, Twilight. Cerulean could barely manage a few words when he came in here, but then all you had to do was show up and now he almost seems normal! You two work so well together, so-”
“That’s just it, Spike,” Twilight interjected, causing her assistant to fall silent. He was, as it turned out, only partially correct: she wasn’t just nervous, she was a hair shy of terrified. “You said it yourself, that the conversation I just had was the best I’d ever managed with a stallion, but I made so many mistakes, Spike!” she continued in an ashamed whisper. “It was invasive of me to ask what he was doing out in the country when it’s none of my business, and even though I knew that he was probably just as nervous as myself, I got upset and corrected his interpretation of a literary device - a literary device, Spike!”
Understanding began to dawn on the dragon as the pony beside him blinked back the moisture rising in her eyes. Twilight wasn’t particularly prone to shedding tears, but every pony has something sensitive that hurts more than the rest, and for Twilight, that was her inability to control herself around the opposite sex. Ready to weather the storm for as long as it lasted, Spike scooched closer and placed a claw on the mare’s shoulder as she continued.
“And then... then I commented on the way he smelled when he clearly couldn’t do anything about it...” she whimpered, burying her face in the couch cushions. “Twice, Spike. I brought that up twice. There was no need for me to say those things... and that was my best conversation I’ve ever had? How can I be proud of that...” Eloquence fled from a young mind grappling for words of reassurance. Try though he did with every neuron within his brain, Spike couldn’t for the life of him conjure a decent answer to her question, and as the seconds slipped by, he began to realize how his avid encouragement had likely only made the matter worse.
“I’m sorry, Twilight, I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s not you, Spike,” Twilight assured him, pulling him into a firm embrace. Looking all the world like a filly clinging to a doll for comfort, Twilight cradled him in her forelegs in silence before speaking up again. “I’ve only just learned this stallion’s name... Looking at things analytically, I can say that he didn’t really seem upset with me, but that’s just it - how many mistakes can I make before I’ve made one too many? I don’t want to drive him away, but it’s just so easy to talk to him. It doesn’t even occur to me to filter what I’m saying...”
“I think you’ve got a long way to go before you manage that.” Unsure of whether she felt more perturbed or relieved by the quiet chuckles sounding from her standin Smartypants, Twilight relaxed her hold and peered expectantly at Spike as he continued. “Twilight, you asked if you could be his editor, and he agreed right away! He even said he’d be grateful for correction, remember?”
“Well, yeah, but...”
“Nuh uh! No ‘buts!’” Spike commanded, folding his arms across his chest. “Twilight, you can’t sit here and list all the ways you failed without seeing how good you did, too. You talked, Twilight. You made conversation. You even flirted a little! Even if it didn’t come out the way you meant it to, that’s still progress, and you know what? He wants your help,” Spike emphasized, tapping her chest with a claw. “You, Twilight. Even with all your little ‘mistakes,’” he paused, rolling his eyes as he made quote marks with his claws, “he still asked for you. If that’s not a good first impression, I don’t know what is.”
“How’d you get so smart?” Twilight asked, ever thankful for Spike’s willingness to remind her of what she already knew and honestly impressed with the spontaneous bout of wisdom from her chronically distractible assistant.
“You pick up a thing or two hanging around Celestia’s number one student,” he snickered, grinning back. “It’s, um... obso- omsos...”
“Osmosis,” Twilight finished, giving him another quick squeeze. “Thanks for cheering me up, Spike. I really needed that.”
“Don’t mention it!” he quipped, bashfully scratching at his spines. “Just... don’t expect that all the time, okay? I can’t even remember what I just said...”
“That’s my number one assistant...” Twilight giggled, sliding from the couch and motioning for him to follow. “Come on, you can help me make lunch.”
“Now that’s a good idea! I’m starving!” Grateful for menial tasks and the distraction they provide, Twilight continued to mull over the events of the morning as she and Spike worked together to create something at least slightly presentable from her chronically barren fridge. Baking was far too inexact a science for Twilight to dabble in without breaking out the metric scale and blowing a goodly portion of the day, and more often than not, she simply wanted something quick and easy so she could delve back into her studies, so a large portion of her diet consisted of fresh fruit from the market and anything with a shelf life of over a month. Between Spike’s consistent urgings for variety and her umpteenth meal of questionable cheese atop stale crackers, Twilight had finally conceded that she had an issue, and with that set out to solve the issue with magic.
Her first attempt at a solution involved direct teleportation of foods from the market, but after accidentally landing Carrot Top’s stall in her kitchen rather than some of her produce, she let that idea go with an apology and a small bundle of carrots for her salad. Teleportation directly to the market was also viable, but this led to the problem of social obligation to polite conversation, possible run-ins with her friends, and stallion’s coming within visual range, and given that her goal was resuming her studies as swiftly as possible, that option was soon abandoned; there was nothing more jarring to one’s focus than bumbling through some awkward coquetry only to find that the stallion’s marefriend is standing just a few feet away. Quickly brushing away the memory of the subsequent apology to Caramel and Sassaflash both, Twilight returned her attention back to the freezer compartment and the first ever testing of her most recent time-saving, magic-dependent ruse for instant stomach gratification: rejuvenation of frozen produce.
For all her use of checklists and appreciation for order, Twilight’s meal plans were often spontaneous and without much warning, so the use of frozen anything was generally reserved for planned occasions when she was bringing something for her friends. However, after a flash of inspiration thanks to the baking summer sun and a craving for berries that couldn’t thaw fast enough, and subsequently the sun-baked remnants of things that used to be edible when she wandered back to find them some five hours later, the resident magician of Golden Oaks decided that she was going to do herself a favor and craft a spell solely for the purpose of broadening the options for tempting her palate. Grabbing a small sack of frozen berries and emptying them into a bowl, she took a moment to arrange the berries into a more symmetrical pattern and focused her magic.
“Uh... Twilight, what’re you doing?” Spike asked, not entirely sure why berries required magic to operate.
“Quiet, Spike!” Twilight commanded, letting her magic fade as she turned to her assistant. “I’ve never used this spell before. I need it quiet so I can concentrate.” Nodding sagely as he did so many times when not having the faintest idea what Twilight was planning, Spike paused his chopping of assorted vegetables and watched with vague curiosity as the air around the bowl began to dance. Quietly nearing so as to have a better view, Spike climbed onto a chair and watched as the frost clinging to the berries slowly melted away, leaving fruit that looked every bit as fresh as the day they’d been pulled from the vine. Triumphant with her flawless execution and stellar results from a previously untested spell, Twilight celebrated with an unrestrained and enthusiastic squeal.
“Yeee, it worked, Spike!” Twilight cheered, thrusting her face close and examining the berries.
“That may be your most useful spell yet, Twilight!” Spike chortled in full support of the latest addition to the mare’s magical arsenal.
“Now do you understand why I stayed up late last night?” Twilight replied with a little bit of smug satisfaction, pulling another package of berries from the freezer. “It’s actually a mixture of an elementary ward and basic fire magic. By keeping the moisture sealed within the immediate area while applying heat, I can guarantee that fruit or vegetables won’t be all dried out when they’re thawed and ready to eat.”
“Even if the spells you started with are simple, I still think it’s pretty impressive,” Spike pointed out while Twilight gathered her magic, preparing to thaw another batch of juicy goodies. “It normally takes you a couple of tries to get it right, but you totally nailed this one, Twilight. You weren’t even distracted by the sound of the shower!” Perhaps not distracted by such inconsequential white noise but certainly the thought of the stallion in the stream of which she was suddenly reminded, Twilight’s eyes snapped open as she loosed the spell with far more magic than was required. Spike covered his mouth in a vain attempt to cover the snickers as hot thoughts and a brilliant flash left a bowl of blackened berries filling the kitchen with a rather unsavory scent, and with her ears laid back and an undeniable lack of amusement, Twilight glared across the table at her “assistant” and gave an exasperated snort.
“One more peep out of you, mister, and I’ll show Rarity your baby pictures.”
“N-no, don’t, I’m sorry!” Spike begged, recoiling in horror at the thought of such emasculation. Even though Rarity would likely find them adorable, any “manliness” that Spike could have hoped to claim would effectively be rendered null and void should such blackmail be carried out. Fortunately, Twilight was feeling benevolent in the wake of her breakthrough, and found herself hard pressed to contain a smile as a very frightened Spike wrapped himself around her foreleg.
“I’ll let it slide this time, but I can’t have you making comments like that,” Twilight warned, freeing her hoof. “Regardless of what attraction I may or may not feel, I can’t just jump right into that kind of thing. I haven’t done nearly enough research to be comfortable with dating, and even if I had, I don’t... think I’m quite ready for that. And really,” she paused, casting her gaze towards the main room. “I don’t think Cerulean is ready for that, either.”
“What makes you say that?” Spike asked, slyly nabbing a burnt berry and biting down with a crunch. They weren’t that bad - not so bad as to necessitate baby picture blackmail. Twilight’s response returned his attention to where it had been prior to his rumbling gut, and he was forced to agree with her words.
“Whether it’s something really small or something too terrible for him to trust me with just yet, he’s convinced he’s nothing more than a tragedy,” Twilight explained quietly with evident concern. “I don’t believe that’s true, Spike. I realize I haven’t known him for more than an hour yet, but I still saw something more to him than that, even if it was only in bits and pieces. I want to help him see that, too, but until he does, there’s just no way for love to develop.” The comfort of a claw once more offered its aid, and Twilight indulged a giggle as she drew Spike close, looking on. “I can always hope for a swift recovery, right?”
“You said it, not me,” Spike chuckled, crunching on a few more baked berries. “He sure has been in the shower a while...”
“Well, he hasn’t had one in two weeks, Spike,” Twilight commented, turning back towards the table. “He probably just wants to enjoy it - I know I would!”
“Okay, that’s fair, but I’m hungry!” Spike countered, downing the last remnants of Twilight’s failed spell. Instantly attentive at the hunger-inducing clink of ceramic, the dragon perked up as Twilight lifted down a cookie jar and pulled out a small sapphire from within.
“Let’s give him a little bit longer, okay?” Twilight quipped, placing the treat in eager claws.
“Deal!”
“Just like Winona,” Twilight mumbled to herself, giggling as Spike paused with indignation stamped across his face.
“That’s so not true!” Spike defended, crossing his arms. “I’m nothing like a dog!”
“Your tail is wagging.”
“N-no it isn’t!” Spike shot back, sparing a claw to hold the rebellious appendage in place.
“All right, all right,” Twilight conceded, letting a devious grin spread ear to ear. “Now, if you’re done with your treat, go fetch me my book.”
“I’m on it!” Diligently heeding his master’s beck and call, the dragon plodded out to the main room, scoured the floor for Twilight’s most recent literary conquest, and was promptly blindsided with comprehension. Stalking back into the kitchen and fixing the snickering pony with the most incriminating deadpan glare he could muster, he dropped the tome with a loud thud before her and shook his head.
“...You’re unbelievable.” Begrudgingly accepting the emerald offered as an apology, Spike retreated to the bench while Twilight calmed herself and dived back into her novel. Glancing at his tail as he found it swishing back and forth of its own accord, he released his misgivings with a sigh and grinned: if the gems kept coming, then a little teasing here and there was well worth his trouble.
Buried under a mound of blankets, a little blue colt adamantly refused to greet the coming morn, even as the first rays were heralded by the trill of Canterlot’s morning choir, each bird adding a different take on the timeless melody. Memories of his first day at Magic Kindergarten and the laughter over his dismal performance were still fresh in his mind. With a quiet snort of exasperation, the young unicorn carelessly lit his den of warmth with a gentle azure aura from his horn, proving he was more than capable of something so simple as an elementary light spell. Excuses of his distraction failed to absolve his failure in the mind of his teacher, nor elevate him in the sight of his peers.
“Rivals, more like,” Cerulean muttered to himself, cutting out the light. “Fiends, even! It’s not my fault there are so many good stories to read...” A knock sounded outside his door, and wishing for nothing more than a good day of moping, the colt retreated further inside his rudimentary barrier from sorrows, pulling the blankets around himself.
“Cerulean?” a voice called out, followed by the creak of the opening door. “Cerulean, come now,” the voice continued, chiding him gently. “You’re going to be late for school if you don’t get up.”
“Not going to school,” came the muffled replied, bringing a bemused grin to the mother’s face.
“No? Just yesterday, you were practically racing laps around the kitchen you were so excited,” she recalled, climbing up onto the bed and placing a hoof over the telltale lump of a sullen colt.
“That’s because I hadn’t messed everything up,” he pouted, pounding his mattress with a hoof. Feeling a shift as the silky fibers of his comfort began to pull away, the colt raised his last defense against the outside world, covering his muzzle with his hooves as his mother gingerly peeled back the sheets and pulled her disheartened bundle of joy into a warm embrace. Sympathetic though she was, she could scarce contain her amusement as her son’s achilles's hoof reared its head yet again.
“...Were you reading in class?”
“Just a little bit!” he half defended, half pouted. Growing perturbed at his mother’s quiet laughter, the little colt crossed his hooves over his chest and pointed his glowering muzzle towards a disorganized and overly-stuffed bookcase chock full of fanciful wonders. “It’s not my fault that there are so many good stories...” It was a curse, really. All it took was a few pages for the up and coming scholar to be completely enraptured, a state that he found hard to shake. Once he started a story, there was a good chance he’d be just about useless for much more than yes or no questions until he’d lapped up the very last letter inked on the pages, let alone practicing magic. His parents had learned to time their delivery of chores in between chapters after a number of dishes met an untimely demise, randomly dropped as the colt’s magic faded to make way for the wonder of the story actively being written in his mind.
“No indeed,” his mother wholeheartedly agreed, chuckling merrily. “It’s the vile hoofwork of terrible villains like your father that cause little fillies and colts to fall in love with cleverly crafted tales of daring adventures and juvenile shenanigans!” she declared with righteous fervor, holding her hoof outstretched as the sweet sound of her child’s laughter escaped in a reluctant giggle. Leaning down close to his ear, she whispered, “You should probably go ‘thank’ him properly.”
Leaping out of bed and grabbing two feather quills from a nearby desk, Cerulean swept out of his room, passed one to his sister as she leapt out of his path, and barreled into his parents’ room where the slumbering form of his father lay prone and unsuspecting. Perplexed as to why Sleepy McReadstoomuch was so hyped, a filly a few years older than the mischievous colt trotted to the doorway and opened her mouth to make inquiry when the frantic hiss of her brother bid her keep quiet and come in.
“Shhhh!” Cerulean warned, holding a hoof up to his lips. “Keep quiet, Crimson! If we wake the beast too soon, we’re done for!” Much less wrapped in fantasy than her brother but always up for a little fun, the filly approached the side of the bed with her feather raised and her smile ready. The plan was set, and the countdown began. “Three... two... one!” The streets of Canterlot were soon filled with a different kind of song, and the mother standing in the doorway with a foal perched atop her mane cherished the melody as it filled her home.
Eventually, Cerulean decided to be the better colt and show the dastardly author mercy, withdrawing his downy blade from his father’s ribs and taking his hungry self into the kitchen where his mother already had breakfast going. Shooting his sister a dirty look as the sensation of a feather in his ears came and passed, the two soon got to playful bickering as kin are wont to do. It was a morning much like any other, but as the colt lifted over his saddlebag, he paused as his mother called out after him.
“Here, take this,” she said with a knowing smile, offering the colt a small, thin storybook.
“This story is really short,” the colt commented, not even looking at the title as he held the book aloft with an indifferent frown. “I’m too big for this stuff!”
“Now, now, it’s not fair to judge a book by its cover,” she replied, countering his disbelief with a knowing grin. “Yes, it’s short, but I think you’ll really enjoy it. Besides, you should be able to finish it by the time you make it to class. This way, you won’t be distracted!” He shot her a pleading glance, as if he’d just been tasked with some monumental chore. “Not every story needs hundreds of pages to be told. Sometimes, its the simpler things that are the most beautiful.”
“That’s my little sage,” she murmured, trying his patience just a little more with a goodbye hug and kiss. “Go on, then, off with you! It won’t do for you to be late.” Starting out the door while his sister said her goodbyes as well, Cerulean held the story aloft and glazed over the title.
“‘The Legend of Snowdrop,’ huh?” he murmured to himself, cracking open the book and turning to the first page. It was simpler language than he was used to reading, having already conquered several hundred page epics, but he couldn’t help but be drawn in as he moved on from page to page. The world began to fade until all that remained were the words that tugged at his heart, and as he came to the bittersweet end, he cradled the book to his chest, unashamedly letting the tears roll down his cheeks.
“Cerulean? Are... you okay?” his sister asked, having been walking by his side since they’d left the house.
“This story is so good!” he sniffled, sparing a hoof to wipe his runny snout. Crimson took a peek at the cover and was forced to take a few moments to steel her composure: she was familiar with the tale, and she gave much the same reaction as her brother the first time she’d read it. “Even though nopony around believed she could do anything, she never gave up. She just... just kept...”
“She just kept believing,” Crimson finished, pulling her brother close to hide him from prying eyes. “You know, that story reminds me of a pony I know.” Peeking out and brimming with interest, Cerulean quieted himself and listened intently for an answer. “He’s the aggravatingly smart little unicorn that’s so talented with magic it’s frustrating, but sometimes he can’t focus, and it gets him into trouble.” Comprehension shifted to confusion, and Crimson couldn’t help but giggle as her brother waited expectantly for her to draw the parallel.
“You wanted to give up this morning, just like Snowdrop nearly did the night before her presentation,” Crimson explained with sisterly affection. “She may have been blind, but she had a big heart, and that’s all she needed to shine. Don’t lose your wonder, Cerulean. It’s part of what makes you special.”
“Have you been reading sappy stories?” Cerulean teased, beaming back at her through misty eyes.
“I... suppose that’s one way to describe them, sure,” she mumbled, looking away.
“Oh, you’ll learn to like romance eventually,” Crimson retorted, motioning down the road. “Come on, you’re gonna make me late for boring old regular school if you don’t get a move on.” Playfully keeping a pony length distance from the filth that was his sister and her repugnant taste in “literature,” Cerulean turned once more to his new favorite story and gave it a second read, taking his time and really letting his mind absorb all that there was to offer. Sharing with the filly in his heart as she faced ridicule and met the odds stacked against her with nothing more than a hopeful heart, he found himself invigorated as he reached end of the story upon arriving at the steps of the school.
“Are you going to be alright?” Crimson asked. There was determination in the colt’s eyes as he held the book to his chest.
“Snowdrop didn’t give up,” he declared, tightening his hold. “And I won’t give up, either.” Casting one more glance at the snow lily on his favorite book, Cerulean tarried a few seconds before slipping the book into his saddlebag and marching towards the doors. He gave the handle a tug with his magic and let out a cry of alarm as a torrent of water burst forth, sweeping him away. Peering through the deluge as his world spun, he reached desperately for his saddlebag as it was washed away, but his outstretched hoof couldn’t reach, and his plea for help remained unheard as his lungs filled with water.
“Give it back…” he whispered, straining helplessly against the tides as his vision began to fade. “Please…” Numbness claimed his limbs as his saddleback disappeared, lost within the torrent, the colt helplessly dropped his hoof as the temperature of the water plummeted, and the all too familiar sting of winter wrapped him in its smothering embrace. He opened his mouth to beg one more time, but his words couldn’t even reach his own ears, and the rush of the waters faded to make way for smothering silence as his vision began to fade.
The word “help” formed on his lips, but there was no strength in his tongue to make a sound. It was all the drowning colt could do to lift even one of his hooves, and with the last of his strength he reached forward, straining even as the encroaching darkness clouded his eyes. With his senses failing, he couldn’t see the hoof reaching through the depths, but what he couldn’t see, he felt in his heart as his outstretched hoof was intertwined with that of another. For just a moment, there was a flicker of warmth within his chest before the sound of rushing waters came roaring back, and with a gasp he breached the surface.
There was something particularly unnerving about waking up with lungs full of water. Coughing violently as his body rejected the improper imbibement of fluid, Cerulean scrambled upright as panic wracked his body, his vision dark and his coat frigid from a shower that had long since grown cold. Disoriented from his dream and unaware that his seeming blindness was in fact his mane hanging over his eyes, the stallion toppled backwards and slammed into the wall, his chest heaving and heart threatening to burst through his chest with every frantic beat. Pawing at his eyes with the back of his hoof, he blinked back water as his vision came through blurry and let the last of the spasms die down, panting for breath even as his body sent it back out in feeble sputters. Glancing down at the whirlpool forming around the drain, the ragged pony slouched against the wall as dizziness swept in to remove what little balance might have remained.
“I must have rolled over the drain while I was asleep,” he surmised, peering at the miniature vortex. The shower wasn’t very deep, but it was still enough for him to get a good snout full of water given how it had pooled up. In the back of his mind, he noted that the water had lost it’s warmth, but given how typical it was for him to be on the verge of freezing, it wasn’t even troublesome enough to cause a shiver. He remained motionless for a time, letting the steady pitter patter soothe his pounding pulse, but try though he may to recall the dream, his mind’s eye drew only a blurry image of a book and nothing more.
“I know it must have been something important,” he thought, straining to recall what he had seen. “It feels like it’s right there, but I just… can’t quite…” A slow sigh escaped his lips as he hung his head. “How come I can remember every detail of every nightmare, but I can’t remember anything from a dream I’ve just had… I just know there was something there for me, I could feel it. Can feel it…” With his hoof pressed lightly over his heart, Cerulean sat motionless, fighting with his mind for anything, some fragment that might explain the pressure in his chest, but though his heart cried for clarity, he found nothing but fleeting remnants of emotion with no stimulus to explain them.
“If nothing else, at least I got some sleep,” he murmured to himself, his muzzle creasing into a defeated grin. Seeing no purpose in dawdling and realizing that the cool of the water likely meant he’d been out for quite some time, Cerulean eased himself upright and concluded his shower in silence, giving his mane a thorough washing and his coat a much-needed scrubbing. He couldn’t help but gawk at the sheer amount of dirt and other rubbish that he coaxed from his mane and tail, and as he shut off the flow and stepped out of the shower, Cerulean paused in front of the mirror and the brush that lay on the counter where Twilight had tossed it, considering her appearance a lost cause.
“I wonder… what it is you see in this?” he pondered, staring back at his reflection. Even with his mane washed, it hadn’t been trimmed in ages, and between the uneven growth, split ends, and knots that couldn’t be undone with water, Cerulean found himself struck by the fact that any mare would do anything other than turn him away in disgust. “I’ve never considered myself to be an attractive stallion: I’ve features far too soft for that. But she…” he paused, turning towards the door. “She accepted me without any misgivings, and found humor in my utter lack of hygiene where others simply turned me away. Rather than mock me, she… reached out to help.” His eyes drew away from the door and towards the brush that still had a few strands of her hair ensnared within the bristles.
“Why?” he whispered to himself, levitating the brush and pulling close. “What is it that you see? Because when I look in the mirror, all I can see is…” The brush dropped to the countertop with a clatter as his magic scattered, dusting the floor with snow. “A failure, a coward, a… a monster.” Condemned by his own words, the accusations of countless voices coiled around his mind like a noose, threatening to choke out what little solace he’d found. As his eyes sought the ground, he found them instead focused upon the magenta fibers intertwined with those of brilliant violet, and the mare’s kind words echoed within his mind like a distant call over the clamor of the crowds.
“Is there really more to… this… than what I see?” Cerulean asked quietly, earnestly longing for a reply that he knew wouldn’t be given. “I suppose only time will tell if Twilight really meant what she said about wanting to help. By the Princesses, I know it won’t be easy. I’m not even sure I deserve her attention… probably not…” Cringing as something within cried out in furious indignation, Cerulean stumbled backwards a step and shook his head in disbelief, perplexed by the jarring shift in heart. Usually, he found he could kick himself all he wanted and feel no different from normal, which was typically meant catastrophically depressed and chronically fatigued, but for some reason his self doubt suddenly felt like a solid buck to the face. Heartened by the fact that he felt anything at all, Cerulean held the brush aloft like a knight swearing an oath as a resurgence of something kindled within his chest.
“I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling right now,” he thought to himself. “I’ve always tried my best and always fallen short. I have no reason to think that this will be any different, but I…” “I want to try,” he said quietly, shuddering as the words brought with them a powerful surge of longing. “Twilight is giving me a chance. I may fail, but I can’t sit idle… I have to try. I have to take that chance. I have to-” He paused, glancing around the brush at the mirror. Where once gazing upon his image had filled him with shame, he found himself unable to keep the corners of his mouth from rising into a fragile grin. “...I have to brush my hair,” he murmured with soft chuckle. “My parents would have lectured my ears off for presenting myself before a mare in such a state of disarray. Goodness, but my manners aren't what they used to be...”
With every stroke of the brush, Cerulean found himself feeling increasingly refreshed from his respite. Fussing with his mane like a filly before picture day, or Rarity on any given day of the week, and generally displaying a vanity not commonly found in the average stallion, Cerulean found the menial task nothing short of invigorating by virtue of relaxing monotony. After he was sufficiently satisfied that he wouldn’t be mistaken for the homeless pony he was based upon his appearance, he set the brush down and set out with every intention to make a better first impression the second time. Quietly, and carefully, making his way down the stairs, he emerged into the main room to find Spike shuffling about, stacking books and vigilantly exterminating dust bunnies great and small.
“Looking for Twilight?” he asked knowingly, preempting Cerulean’s question. Nodding his affirmation and grinning faintly, he gave Spike his attention as he did a quick search, located the book Cerulean had been reading before Twilight’s arrival, and trundled over. “She’s in the kitchen, but she’s got her nose pretty deep in that book,” Spike explained, offering his find to Cerulean who obediently accepted the novel. “Things aren’t usually this quiet around here, so days like today where she finds the time to read are special to her. I don’t know how long she’ll be, but hopefully that’ll help you pass the time. Oh, and she set the table for lunch, but she’s probably forgotten about it and I’m pretty sure it’s not cold anymore.”
“You have my thanks,” Cerulean said politely, dipping his snout.
“Hey, don’t mention it! You know,” he paused, beckoning Cerulean closer and slyly looking side to side. “I don’t think Twilight would mind if you joined her.” His charge stood there for a moment with an expression devoid of comprehension before tilting his head to the side and stating plainly that he was, in fact, quite oblivious.
“Why?”
“Wh- you don’t- b-but…” Spike stammered, his claws falling limply to his sides. “How the hay does this guy not see how much Twilight’s into him? It’s so obvious! Painfully obvious!” he thought to himself, staring back at Cerulean in disbelief. “If it weren’t for the fact that Twilight would have me cleaning on a microscopic level for, like, a year, I’d just tell him straight. There’s got to be a way I can help her out, though! C’mon, think...” Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Spike returned his attention to Mr. Can’t-Recognize-Social-Cues and purposed to do what he could without risking his scales.
“I know this is gonna sound strange, but Twilight really likes it when ponies read,” he confided. “As many times as ponies come in and out of this library, it’s almost never for books. Twilight has always loved reading, and I think it bothers her sometimes that she never has anyone to share that with.” Spike had to grin as the wheels slowly began to move within the mind of a ragged stallion, and motioned again towards the kitchen. “I’m not trying to force you to do anything: you’re our guest, after all! But... I’m sure Twilight would love it if you read with her for a little while.”
Though the hint was anything but subtle, Cerulean couldn’t well pass up an opportunity to spend some time with the one who had shown him kindness without despising him for his unfortunate state. Accepting with gratitude the time-honored classic held aloft, he looked fondly upon the heroic depiction of Daring Do printed on the cover before cantering over to the kitchen, where he paused at the entryway. Being far too distracted trying to maintain minimal functionality when he’d arrived, Cerulean hadn’t taken the time to really look at Twilight, but as he did, he found the corners of his mouth slowly rising to match the faint grin stamped upon a lavender muzzle. His eyes roamed to her modestly cut, slightly frizzy mane before following down to her eyes which flicked back and forth as they scoured the page, drinking in every word. Dropping down to her tail and following it back up to her cutie mark, Cerulean’s eyes lingered for a moment before moving once more to Twilight’s brilliant violet eyes which shimmered with foal-like anticipation as each page paved a path to the next.
“How is it that somepony like her should find- no, make the time for somepony like me?” Cerulean wondered, shaking his head and smiling ever wider. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” he mused, stepping softly so as to preserve the stillness as he drew up beside where she lay on the bench. “Even if this solace proves ephemeral, I hope that I’ll find a way to show my thanks to you, Twilight. But for now… let's read.” Bowing his head in solemn thanks, Cerulean lay down upon the floor next to where Twilight sat on the bench. Instinctively opening the story to where he’d left off, he stole one more glance at the mare beside him before directing his gaze towards the novel held between his hooves.
“Heh… somehow, this story doesn’t seem nearly as compelling as it did before: not when she's so near…” He couldn’t help but glance again at Twilight, who still lay unaware of his presence, and though he knew he had no right, he tarried there. “Perhaps,” he grinned, “I’ll be able to stay long enough to read a few more pages before the next storm. Even if I don’t, this… even this is nice.” Shadows slowly lengthened, and neither pony paid them any heed as an uncommon peace fell over the Golden Oaks library; a necessary and healing reprieve from the hustle and bustle that continued outside the door.
“Finally!” Falling gratefully to the freshly tilled soil, a young filly reveled in her freedom from the curse of chores with an exhausted groan and a faceful of dirt, though that was more a byproduct of over-animated celebration. Prying her snout from the earth long enough to glare in in the direction of her sister’s chuckles, Apple Bloom soon gave up her glowering and accepted the offered helping hoof. “Ah don’t know how you an’ brother do this every day, sis,” the young filly asserted, dusting herself off as she stood. “Ah wasn’t even runnin’ but it feels like mah hooves are about to t’ up an’ fall off!”
“Oh, it ain’t that bad,” Applejack replied with a grin, collecting various tools and tossing them into a nearby cart. “Farmin’ just runs in our blood, Apple Bloom. Ah’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”
“Ah sure hope not,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Ah’d sooner build a barn than till a field.”
“Well, farmin’ is more than just harvest season,” Applejack mused, adopting a thoughtful expression. “More often than not, ah’m hard pressed t’ keep up with all the repairs around here, an’ havin’ somepony t’ tidy things up ‘round the farm would really take a load off my back.”
“Really?” Apple Bloom exclaimed, perking up at the idea of doing something other than farm work. While she took as much pride in the farm as either of her siblings, she just couldn’t find the same pleasure in a row well planted that made Applejack beam, and the thought of being able to help in someway that didn’t scream “absolute drudgery” was like a glass of cool cider after a day in the fields. “Do ya really mean that, sis?”
“Sure do, sugarcube. Take that fence over yonder,” she motioned, drawing the filly’s attention towards the dilapidated timbers that could hardly constitute a notable landmark, much less a right and proper fence. “Ah’ve been meanin’ t’ fix that fer absolute ages, but with everything else that needs doin’, ah just can’t seem t’ find the time. You know ah’m not one t’ sweat the small stuff, but we sell our apples all over Equestria, and that type o’ thing just doesn’t look good for potential buyers. Besides,” she continued with a rueful chuckle, “ah’ve learned a thing or two from Rarity, an’ there ain’t nothin’ wrong with makin’ things look nice. Don’t tell her ah said so, though.”
“Mah lips ‘re sealed, sis!” Apple Bloom chortled as new life surged through her veins. “Gosh, ah can’t wait t’ try my hoof at somethin’ new! But, uh… sis?”
“What is it, Apple Bloom?”
“Ah’m right thankful that you’re lettin’ me do somethin’ other than work in the fields, but…” she hesitated, her ears drooping down in disappointment. “Ah haven’t the faintest idea how t’ fix a fence.”
“Don’t you fret none,” Applejack reassured the filly with a grin, stooping down to collect her hat and tossing it onto her head with practiced flair. “Ah was plannin’ on payin’ Twilight a visit this afternoon, an’ ah’m sure she has somethin’ ‘bout carpentry in that library o’ hers. Besides, it ain’t like ah expect you to finish such a big project in a single day. What ah do expect is for somepony t’ be dashin’ off ‘fore ah find more work that needs doin’.”
“Already gone, sis!” Apple Bloom called over her shoulder, kicking up dust as she sped off towards the clubhouse. Laughing quietly to herself as she watched her sister disappear amongst the trees, Applejack finished tidying up their workspace and strapped herself into the cart, pulling the loaded trolley with ease. In truth, she was somewhat grateful to Apple Bloom for giving her a legitimate excuse to drop by the library. While there was nothing wrong with worrying for a friend, Applejack wasn’t exactly adept in veiling her intentions, and she somehow doubted Twilight would appreciate being spied on.
“It’s not like ah’m tryin’ t’ invade her privacy or nothin’,” Applejack reasoned with herself as she arrived at the barn. “Ah just can’t get that crazy colt outta mah head. Ah know it ain’ right t’ judge a pony ‘fore you know ‘em- Zecora is proof enough that appearances can be deceivin’. An’ now that ah think about it… he didn’t really seem like a bad sort, but…” She sighed as she put the last of the watering cans with the rest and paused, staring down at the hay-strewn floor.
“Maybe it’s just me...” she murmured, hiding behind the rim of her hat. “Even if ah’m wrong, Twilight is one of mah best friends. Ah can’t just ignore this feelin’, not with her.” Nodding to herself as she reflected on all the times Twilight had helped her see the truth buried beneath life’s haze, Applejack reaffirmed her decision and rose, closing up the barn and heading down the beaten path leading back to town. It wasn’t long until she came upon the library, which thankfully appeared no worse for the weather, and after a few moments her knocks were answered by a very distracted bookworm’s dutiful assistant, tome in claw.
“Hey there, Applejack,” Spike greeted her casually. “What brings you here today?”
“Oh, ah just wanted to poke mah nose where ah’ve no business stickin’ it to ease concerns ah can’t rightly justify havin’ in the first place,” she answered in her head, steeling her nerves. She had no intention of lying, but beating around the bush was just as hard for the mare. “Well, Apple Bloom has been havin’ trouble findin’ her place round the farm,” Applejack began, accepting Spike’s unspoken invitation and trotting inside. “She’s earnest t’ help more often than not, but it don’t take much more than an hour fer her t’ lose interest. Ah do mah best t’ keep things interestin’, but ah can’t make everythin’ a game, an’ ah know she’s strugglin’ t’ keep up with ‘er chores. Long story short, ah was hopin’ y’all might be able t’ help me find a book ‘bout carpentry, or just fixin’ things in general.” Pleased with having answered in complete honesty without letting on that there was more to the story, Applejack grinned as Spike set his book aside and jogged to the center of the room.
“Carpentry, huh?” he repeated, his eyes roaming the shelves. “I know we have something about that somewhere, but since it isn’t about magic or crazy adventures, it may take me a little while to find.”
“Don’t fret none, sugarcube. Ah don’t mind waitin’.” “Gives me more time t’ find out what ah really wanna know,” she added in her head, taking a seat and looking around. “Whole place ain’t buried in snow, so ah guess that’s a good thing. Spike seems like his normal self, too. Maybe that feller got lost along the way?” Given that the library was the only building carved into an oak tree that she’d ever seen in or out of Ponyville, the notion struck her as unlikely, and with that in mind she was forced once again to call her misgivings into question. “If he’s here, then things are clearly alright, an’ ah don’t need t’ go pokin’ around any further. Ah should just get mah book and go home.”
If anything, the library was more peaceful than she’d found it anytime in recent memory. Most of the books were shelved, Twilight wasn’t fretting about her most recent magical experiments and the finer points of arcane theory that Applejack couldn’t begin to comprehend, and between the gentle warmth in the floorboards from the afternoon sun and the dust motes dancing merrily in the gold shafts, the evidence stacked against her hunch was staggering. And yet, even with the perplexing normality of the setting, the fact that she hadn’t laid eyes on Twilight gnawed at her mind like an apathetic beaver with a toothache.
“Shoot, there just ain’t any way around it… ah’m not gonna have any rest until ah see Twilight mahself,” Applejack concluded, scuffing at the floor with a hoof. With Spike otherwise distracted trying to find literature with inherent worth towards the practical, Applejack was free to roam, though her trained sense of smell caught the scent of berries in the air as she neared the staircase and drew her instead towards the kitchen. Rounding the corner and coming to a halt in the entryway, Applejack found both the friend she counted as dear to her and the pony she had sent away, too apprehensive to offer her own hoof.
“Somethin’ must be wrong with me, thinkin’ ill o’ that feller; He ain’t a threat t’ anypony.” Ashamed to have been so short-sighted to not have seen past the newcomer’s outward appearance, Applejack let her ears droop as she watched the stallion, the very image of calm, ripple the quiet with the feathery sound of a turning page. Washed free of weeks worth of dust and soil, his mane shone a brilliant white and glinted in the sunlight, and between the snowflake crested on his flanks and the heart she hadn’t noticed within the crystalline image, Applejack found little defense against the pangs of guilt that knotted in her stomach. She was looking upon the emissary of winter, and found herself to be more cold than he.
“Ah… ah couldn’t have been more wrong,” Applejack thought to herself, dropping her head. “Ah guess… sendin’ him t’ you was the right thing t’ do after all, Twilight. Ah’m glad you were able t’ see what ah couldn’t.” Though she would have liked nothing more than to head home then and there, her heart wasn’t about to let her off the hook; even if the stallion had no idea of her misgivings, she still felt obligated to extend her hoof.
"Hey." Thoroughly ingrained in the daring adventures of a mare with much to do, the stallion didn't show any immediate signs that he had heard Applejack's words. "Beg yer pardon," she tried again, taking a step closer and pausing as he slowly raised his head, gave Twilight's wall an inquisitive stare, and blinked. "Shucks, he's just as oblivious as ever. He don't seem nearly as messed up, though, so ah guess that's good." "Over here, pardner," Applejack bid him, stifling a hesitant chuckle as he turned his baffled gaze towards the source of noise. "You feelin' alright?"
"Much more now than I was before," Cerulean responded drowsily, pawing at his eyes like a sleepy colt up past his bedtime. "I appreciate your pointing me to this place. Twilight has been more welcoming than I could have hoped; she has my gratitude, and you as well." Hearing herself thanked with such frankness soothed the mare's conscience over having been so quick to pass him along to another, though even knowing that this mystery stallion hadn't viewed her actions in a dim light, there yet remained something about him that set her ill at ease.
"Shoot, ya don't have t' thank me none," Applejack replied, awkwardly glancing away to collect her composure. "Come on, AJ, there ain't nothin' t' be worried about! This stallion don't look like he could mean anypony harm..." Her inner reprimand did little to quiet the anxiety that seemed to be pooling in her chest with every moment spent near the stranger, and though she genuinely wished to make him feel welcome to the community, it was all she could do to keep from beating a hasty retreat. "What's... what's yer name?"
"You may call me Cerulean, if you'd like," came his amiable reply, accompanied by a smile Applejack would have loved to return.
"Cerulean, huh? Ah'm Applejack," she returned as calmly as she could manage. Ordinarily, that would have been the queue for her to give the other pony a hearty hoof shake and a friendly pat on the back, but the notion of moving even a step closer made her shudder, and she remained firmly rooted in place. Shaken for reasons she couldn't comprehend and desperate to fill the quiet, Applejack turned away from Cerulean and fixed her attention on Twilight, who remained quite contentedly nose deep in her story. "Uh... Twilight sure seems wrapped up in that book."
"That she is," Cerulean agreed, looking upon her with apparent fondness that only served to worsen Applejack's countenance. "Of the mares I've known, none have matched the reverence with which she studies. It's..." he paused, his smile growing a little wider, "really rather endearing."
"If that's really what this feller thinks, then maybe this is where he belongs," Applejack reflected, muffling her sigh as it slipped from her muzzle. "Twilight's been feelin' pretty blue lately, an' right now she looks happier than I've seen her in weeks. Even if it don't sit right with me, ah ain't got no right t' go about neighsayin'. Besides..." she thought, her focus drawn to the tranquility that had found a home in the stallion's once vacant eyes. "If anypony can help 'im, it'll be her. She's the glue that keeps us all together, an' we all know it." Grateful in part for her bullheaded nature, she mentally gave her worries the buck and cracked a feeble smile as the unmistakable gurgle of an emaciated pony's neglected stomach sounded with startling volume, drawing her attention over to the spread that lay read, waiting, and forgotten upon the table.
"Goodness, Twi, you're somethin' else," Applejack thought to herself, shaking her head as she returned to the main room. “Spike, have ya-”
“Found it!” he exclaimed as if on cue, unshelving a weighty volume. Sliding down the ladder and landing on the floor with a heavy thump, he took a moment to rebalance himself before tottering over and gratefully setting the book in Applejack’s outstretched hoof. “That should be everything you need to know about anything that needs fixing: busted pipes, broken hinges, chimney… stuff? Everything!”
“Thanks, Spike, this is exactly what ah was lookin’ for,” Applejack replied, glossing over a few pages before slipping the weighty guide into her saddlebag. “Ah’ll be headin’ back t’ the farm now,” she started, seeing no reason to linger. “Ah can tell that Cerulean feller enjoys a good book almost as much as Twi, but that pony need t’ eat. Make sure they both get around t’ eatin’ soon, alright?”
Despite having seen more than enough to lay her worries to rest, her misgivings with the newcomer still lingered in the back of her mind as she started back towards the farm with her troubled eyes cast towards the road. Questions without answers and worries without reassurance filled a steadfast heart with doubt, bringing memories that she’d thought had been laid to rest bubbling to the surface. Quickening her pace until she was barreling through town, the mare’s attempts to leave her anxiety behind proved ineffectual, and as she slowed to a stop outside her house, breathless and shaken, she took another moment to wish Twilight well before seeking solace in the quiet of her room.
While it is commonly held that librarians lead a dreary and dull existence, surrounding themselves with musty tomes and lofty words found only in the scholastic musings of the modern philosopher, this couldn’t have been farther from the truth for Twilight. Irrevocably ingrained in the lives of the ponies around her, her days were typically stitched together with threads of friendship and patches of improvisation, forming with every fond memory a patchwork quilt that represented the frantic mad dash that was her daily routine. When she wasn’t rendering assistance to her friends, priority was given to expanding her understanding of unconventional magicks and their applications, with the result being the relentless hounding of responsibility that rarely made way for relaxation. Therefore, when she did find the few scant minutes to let her mind drift away to another place, she relished those moments far more than she had before coming to Ponyville. Counting each page sweeter than honey and soothed by the late afternoon sunlight drenching her back, the mare punctuated the conclusion of another gripping chapter with a cavernous yawn, pawing at the air as she stretched out on the bench.
“It’s been so long since I’ve taken a break like this,” she mused to herself, blinking drowsily at the novel before her. “I haven’t looked at the time, but I know I’ve been reading for quite a while, now. I’ll have to be sure to thank Spike for leaving me be. After all,” she thought with a grin, “what could be better than a few hours with a good book?” Chuckling quietly at the rhetorical question, she soon found herself quieted by an unexpected and different answer than she had held within herself just moments before as she rolled from the bench and found a different kind of story nestled between her hooves.
While not sure what had prompted Twilight to use him as her perch, Cerulean couldn’t rightly say that he minded. Having spent much of his time the last few years by himself and wrapped in a mantle of cold despair, the warmth seeping into his coat was even more invigorating than the shower had been when he’d first stepped into the flow, and rather than question the mare’s habits, he laid his head upon his book, savoring the comfort. Suspecting that Twilight’s current position was nothing more than an accident, which it was, Cerulean expected that she would be quick to move away, but as pleasant seconds meandered past and no motion to move was made, he found himself intrigued by his living blanket. Turning slightly to make inquiry, his question was laid aside as his muzzle connected with one which he hadn’t expected to be quite so close, and he froze with his lips pressed lightly against the mare’s cheek.
Unbeknownst to Cerulean, Twilight had been similarly afflicted by a reluctance to move, albeit for different reasons. Spike had been spot on when he asserted that Twilight liked it when other ponies read. This proved doubly so when said pony happens to be a stallion. Upon her landing, Twilight was bombarded by several potent observations, not the least of which was the realization that her desire for another story had been hastily fulfilled. Shifting from drowsy daze to awed wonder, her analytical mind found itself overwhelmed trying to categorize all of the emotions cascading upon her: the embarrassment of falling on top of her guest, the allure of physical contact, the panic of hastily formulating her potential explanation, and the unquestionably provocative nature of sharing a book with the freshly washed stallion. Though she would have liked another few minutes to explore the wealth of feelings roiling within, Twilight was snapped from her contemplation by the gentle coolness of lips upon her cheek, prompting immediate action despite her being completely frazzled.
“Oh my goodness!” Twilight yelped, leaping upright and scuttling away. Crashing into the fridge in her haste to put some space between her and the stallion she’d been laying upon, Twilight felt her cheeks ignite as the realization of what had happened began to piece itself together. Bringing her hooves together and covering her mouth, she found them to be ineffective at stemming the overflow of apologetic babble that was tumbling out despite her best efforts to make rationality her muse. “I’m so incredibly sorry for sitting on you! You don’t even look like a bench! I mean, you’re soft enough you could pass for a sofa but then why would anypony put a sofa in the kitchen when they should obviously be in the living area? I don’t even have a living area because this is a library and that would be strange but I still have a sofa and it’s really very soft but I think you might actually be softer, and… and…”
“Twilight?” Grateful for the calmness of the colt’s tone and eagerly accepting his call as an invitation to restrain her babble, Twilight let her words trail off as she fixed her attention on what somepony who was most assuredly a welcome addition to her library. “There’s really no need for you to apologize,” he assured her with an awkward smile. “I’m quite sure of your ability to tell the difference between pony and furniture. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry.”
“But why would you be sorry?” she prompted, still hiding behind her hooves. Though she knew what Cerulean might be referencing, she couldn’t be positive that it hadn’t just been her mind blowing things wildly out of proportion, but she soon found that their all too brief moment of romance had happened exactly as she imagined it had; the tinge of color turning his cheeks from blue to red was proof enough for her.
“W-well, I… may have, um…” he started, glancing away as an unfamiliar sensation tickled the sides of his muzzle. “It wasn’t on purpose, and… and, it’s like… I don’t want you thinking I’m, you know… one of those… types?” It was, perhaps, the first time Twilight had heard Cerulean’s speech anything but collected, and it held for her an entirely different charm than the loquaciousness of his formality. Reassured that she wasn’t the only one having difficulty with her words, Twilight allowed herself some quiet laughter as the colt continued bumbling about, skirting the dreaded “k” word and all too aware of the fact that he was rambling.
“Cerulean?” With the horseshoe on the other hoof, the stallion let his words trail off as he waited for Twilight’s chastisement of his deplorable sentence structure. Instruction, however, wasn’t where the mare’s mind was, and he soon found that peculiar tingling in his cheeks growing stronger as he met her bashful gaze. “There is little doubt in my mind that what happened was an accident. You don’t strike me as somepony that is forward by nature, and even if it had been on purpose, I… think I would have been okay with that.” It was a huge admittance on her part, and one that Cerulean didn’t quite know how to handle. Still flustered from trying to dance around what had happened and even more so by Twilight’s honesty, a trait which was more alluring to him than her curves, he opened his mouth to speak before he had any idea what he was going to say, and Twilight was once again introduced to the less scholarly side of her friend.
“Well, it didn’t bother me when you sat on me. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you sat on me again.” Words can sometimes make much more sense in one’s head before their spoken than after, and for Cerulean, that was one such case. It seemed logical to him that if Twilight were open enough to admit she had enjoyed their little foray into romance, if it could even be labeled as such so brief was the event, then he could feel comfortable enough to explain why bodily contact was so desirable. Tact, as it would turn out, was the missing ingredient, and in seeking for it, Cerulean discovered it to be quite elusive, and he felt a rush of heat sweep over him as his statement was met with a muffled giggle.
“I-I mean, it’s not like I enjoy being sat on!” he explained hurriedly. “It’s just, you know, you’re really hot-” Swaying slightly from the dizzying levels of failure clouding his head and cringing as Twilight snorted, doing her best not to laugh, Cerulean sought to purge his mind of the toxin known as “stupidity” with a very solid application of hoof to the face. “...warm,” he mumbled, “I meant to say that you were warm, and it felt amazing-” Convinced that any high standing he may have garnered in Twilight’s mind as a cultured colt was now effectively a dilapidated hull lain to rest at the bottom of the sea of shame, Cerulean loosed a drawn out sigh and let his ears droop towards the floor.
Whether the pony held any interest for him or not, the fact of the matter was that the more awake he became, the less eloquence he managed to retain on account of his mind racing ever faster than his tongue could follow, and this condition only intensified when in the presence of cute mares. Twilight, he held, fell firmly into the “angelic” category, and thus the fact that he managed coherent thought at all after having slept was a mystery in and of itself. He recognized, however, that she was also somepony who was both learned and knowledgeable, and though she had never shown herself to be anything other than understanding, Cerulean couldn’t help but fear that her laughter was the dismissive sort rather than the accepting. It wasn’t until he felt a gentle tug on his ears that he lowered his hoof from his face, finding his ears gentle set back to their upright position by the mare with gentleness in her grin.
“Given how talented you are with ice magic, it makes sense that you’d be really cold,” she began, taking a seat before him as the light faded from her horn. “Being out in the wild for a while, I’ll bet there weren’t many ways to keep yourself warm. That’s why it didn’t bother you when I sat on you, isn’t it?”
“I… yeah, something like that,” Cerulean said slowly, mystified by the mare’s accurate deduction. “You really understood all that from what I said?”
“Your writing wasn’t that messy,” Twilight teased playfully, coaxing a smile from her hesitant friend. “When you take out all the possible meanings for the vocabulary you chose and just look at the literal interpretation, it wasn’t hard to make the connection. Couple that with your previous behavior up to this point, and you have a simple statement of your enjoyment of another’s warmth. That’s really not so odd, right?” she concluded, waiting for confirmation with her head tilted ever so slightly to the side.
“When you say it that way, it doesn’t sound odd at all,” Cerulean returned, shaking his head lightly. “I’ve never met a mare that- that’s adorable.” Pausing his thoughts momentarily as Twilight tilted her head the opposite direction in conjunction with her cheerful smile, Cerulean forced himself to avert his gaze as the blush began to boil under the surface. “I’ve never met a mare that pays so much attention to my condition. She gauges, she thinks, and most importantly, she takes the time to understand. It… makes me feel as though I might be worth something, even after… that.” Forestalling a shudder as nightmares threatened to rise before their time, Cerulean fixed his gaze on Twilight and let the calmness come, his heart steadying simply from being in the mare’s presence.
“I appreciate your understanding, Twilight. Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing special. I’m just doing what I can as a good editor should,” she replied modestly, glancing towards the table. “Speaking of which, are you hungry?” Before Cerulean could even begin to respond, the room was filled with the rumbling gurgle of a stomach in desperate want of sustenance.
“I’m a touch peckish, yeah,” Cerulean replied with a sheepish chuckle and one hoof over his noisy gut.
“I think I should be able to fix that,” Twilight declared, beckoning him to follow. Momentarily disheartened as she took her seat at the bench to find that all of the food she’d set out had warmed to room temperature, Twilight hadn’t the time to fret as she looked up and found Cerulean salivating over the unimpressive spread. After observing for a few seconds in quiet amusement, Twilight remembered her manners and set about getting things started. “Spike?” she called over her shoulder, glancing towards the doorway. “Lunch is being served!”
“Finally!” he exclaimed from the main room. Abandoning his clerical duties with the telltale thump of books being hastily discarded to the floor, the hungry dragon rushed into the kitchen, vaulted onto the bench, and eagerly reached towards the nearest source of sustenance.
“Ah! Not so fast, Spike,” Twilight chided, rescuing the berries from his clutches. “Since we have a guest, I think he should be served first.”
“Fine, whatever, just do it fast!” he pleaded, shoving the large bowl of greens towards the stallion secretly hoping nopony noticed the puddle of drool he’d wiped from the table. “Here, eat something, quick!” He needed no second bidding.
Even with her expansive vocabulary, Twilight had trouble describing the sound that her guest made as he fell upon the offered salad with ravenous desire, but it spelled out in her mind something like “omphch.” Lukewarm and unadorned, Twilight watched in stunned silence as Cerulean devoured half the bowl in the blink of an eye despite the food having been left out for much longer than recommended. By chance, he happened to look up, and was corrected not by Twilight, but his own sense of decency as he looked at the trio of smaller bowls set on the table and realized that the bowl was meant to be shared amongst the three.
“I-I’m sorry,” Cerulean stammered, hiding himself behind the bowl. Quietude followed in the wake of his feast and was disrupted as he nudged the bowl forward, cringing at the scraping sound it made as it was returned to the center of the table. “I can’t believe I just did that… Have my manners really become that atrocious? Ugh, I’m horrible…”
While her guest tried to busy himself tracing the wood grains on the table to distract himself the embarrassment of uncouth indulgence, Twilight found herself exerting every fragment of self-control she could muster not to leap across the table, tackle Cerulean to the floor, and give vent to any number of primal urges that came to mind, most notably “the huggle and squee.” Whether intentional or accidental, the stallion just a few hoof lengths away was displaying the same spontaneous and often uncontrolled excitement that had left her wanting to hide several times in the past few hours alone, and the comfort that came with this realization was something she was eager to return. Aquamarine eyes filled with anxiety met those of gentle violet that conveyed only a depth of understanding deeper than Cerulean knew, and with a smile Twilight nudged the bowl back.
“It makes sense that you’d be hungry, given how long you’ve been wandering around,” Twilight explained in an encouraging tone, floating over the bowl of berries and setting it near to him. “I prepared this lunch quite some time before you finished your shower. I wasn’t expecting you would take so long, and it got kind of warm. I was worried you’d be bothered by it, and I was even going to ask if you could help cool it down again, but that doesn’t seem like it’s really an issue for you,” she concluded with a smile, glancing down at what remained in the salad bowl. “Eat as much as you’d like, Cerulean. I’ve got more in the fridge.”
“...You mean you’re not gonna kick me out after eating half your lunch before you’ve even had any?” he asked with both puzzlement and expectation. On one hoof, he found Twilight’s characteristically intelligent reply rather fitting, but then, she was the only mare he’d met who was so enamored with critical thought, so he couldn’t really help but feel some measure of surprise. He had, after all, just openly shown himself as being a glutton, or so it seemed to him. Twilight just thought he seemed hungry, but it was Spike who jumped in and eased his concerns.
“If she kicked ponies out for eating too fast, then I’d be homeless,” Spike replied along with a few reassuring chuckles. Hopping from the bench and clambering onto the counter, he grabbed another large bowl from the cupboard while Twilight rifled through the fridge for more food. “This one time, I ate a whole cake to myself in ten seconds. It was, like, this big!” he boasted, puffing out his chest as he held his arms as far apart as they could reach. “Not to brag or anything, but I can eat just about anypony under the table. If anything, I’m impressed!” His stomach growled. “And jealous,” he added under his breath.
“Keeping a growing dragon full is no easy task,” Twilight explained as she lifted the bowl from Spike’s claws and began dicing vegetables over it. Levitation in and of itself was a simple matter for most unicorns, but Cerulean couldn’t help but marvel as she simultaneously shredded lettuce, chopped cabbage and carrots, plucked the best buds from dandelions, and continued in casual conversation all at once; he was lucky if he could levitate three things without blowing a few neurons. “Pony food doesn’t provide high enough levels of minerals for a dragon to live off of, so I have to balance Spike’s diet with various gemstones to keep his scales and spines healthy.”
“Kind of like ponies who take vitamin supplements to offset a poorly rounded diet?” Cerulean ventured, mesmerized by the casual display of levitation mastery.
“Exactly!” Twilight quipped, pleased that her guest wasn’t merely listening to be polite. Finished with her preparation, Twilight took her seat at the table and applied herself to her meal as her body suddenly seemed to realize that it had been several hours since its last feeding, though she couldn’t help but let her mind wander as she flashed a smile at the pony seated across from her. “Every time I feel like I’ve made some horrible mistake, he responds to it with an understanding I haven’t found in other stallions, and every time he feels like he’s made a mistake, it only makes me more comfortable because I don’t feel quite so different. I know it’s too early to say anything for sure, and I have no idea where all this will go, but I think… I’m really going to enjoy this story.”
Applejack wasn’t known as Ponyville’s most dependable pony for nothing. No matter how great the challenge, there wasn’t much that the mare would hesitate to confront, but even the strong have their weaknesses, and she couldn’t have felt any more feeble as she quietly closed the door behind her. Glancing disinterestedly about her modest abode as she neared her bed, she tossed her stetson over to her dresser before flopping onto her mattress with nought but a tired grunt. The rhythmic tick tock of her wall clock marked the slow passage of time as she stared beyond the confines of her sanctuary through half-lidded eyes, her mind far away from Sweet Apple Acres and towards a city that she wished she could forget.
Desperate to distract herself as darkened memories caused her to shudder, Applejack eased herself upright and stared at the patchwork quilt that acted as her bed’s comforter. It was hoof made, every stitch made with the same quality and care that the Apples prided themselves for having. For a brief moment, a smile returned to her as she ran a hoof over the time-worn fibers made from affordable but comfortable cotton, and with a wistful sigh she lifted her gaze to find her own anxious green eyes peering back.
“Mah face is as poor at lyin’ as ah am,” she muttered, regarding her appearance with disdain. “Ponyville’s most dependable pony, reduced to a frightened little filly by some stallion an’ a little bit o’ snow- it ain’t right!” Springs creaked as she slammed her hoof down on the mattress, but her anger was short-lived: she had no right to feel as she did, no reason to hold Cerulean accountable for events of which he held no part or portion. Her frustration was solely with herself, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept the lingering dread that remained in her heart even after having seen how docile the newcomer’s temperament could be.
“Why can’t ah get mah head on right, even after all this time?” she wondered, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew the answer, but she didn’t want to accept it. How could she expect to overcome what she never took the time to confront? Working on a farm, she had plenty of examples to prove that problems don’t simply disappear if they’re left alone. In fact, more often than not, their condition decays, and it was with this in mind that Applejack let her head hang in shame.
“Ah’ve… nopony t’ blame but mahself, but that… that just doesn’t seem fair,” she said quietly, shaking her head. Her ponytail swished around and gently wrapped around her hoof, and after a brief delay, she reached over and undid the simple tie that held it in place, letting her abundant mane tumble down around her shoulders. Few would hardly recognize the country flower if she dared set hoof outside the farm, but with her hair undone and her tail as well, she could hardly stomach stepping outside her room, let alone into town. She knew that others would find her to be lovely, and that couldn’t be any more terrifying for one who had almost been taken for that very reason, but that didn’t forestall the desires within: every mare wants to feel beautiful, and Applejack was no exception.
A knock on the door caused her to start, and even though she knew by the sound that it was the only stallion she had ever come to trust, she couldn’t suppress the pang of nausea that caused her to shiver. Quietly cursing under her breath, Applejack fumbled around with her hair ties for a few seconds before letting her shaking hooves fall uselessly to her sides. There was no way to hide, she soon realized, and even if she had, the pony on the other side would have shredded right through her charades.
“Just get in here before ya break it down,” Applejack growled with every ounce of strength she could muster, glaring briefly at the door but turning away the moment it began to open. She didn’t bother looking to see who it was: there was no mistaking Big Macintosh’s knock, or the sound his hooves made on the wood floor. “Whaddaya want, Big Mac? Now ain’t exactly the best time.”
“Ah’d like t’ know what’s got mah sister all worked up,” he stated plainly, taking a seat by the bed.
“What makes you think ah’m upset?” she snapped back, knowing full well it was painfully obvious. “Can’t you see ah’m busy havin’ a fashion show?” There was a brief delay wherein Big Macintosh employed one of his most honed skills, namely a knack for not being needlessly wordy, before his soft reply snatched the wind from Applejack’s sails and deflated what was left of her confidence.
“Applejack, you were distracted by somethin’ most all afternoon, an’ then you forgot t’ count the apple barrels like you said you would. You don’t just ferget things like that unless somethin’s on yer mind.” Big Mac may not be the most talkative pony Applejack could think of, but his powers of perception were second to none.
“Ah… ah guess that was a dead giveaway, wasn’t it?” Applejack ventured with a wearied groan, hanging her head and peering up at her brother. His ever present sense of calm was something that the more hot-tempered mare envied, and she couldn’t count how many times she’d taken refuge in Big Mac’s quiet reassurance.
“Eeyup,” he said gently with an encouraging grin. “What’s on yer mind, sis?”
“A whole lot, brother,” she confessed with a heavy-hearted sigh. “Ah found some stallion ah ain’t ever seen ‘round here hangin’ about the orchard with Apple Bloom. He looked like he’d taken bathing lessons from our pigs and couldn’t hardly see straight. On top o’ all that, he kept… snowin’.” Big Macintosh blinked. “He was a unicorn, an’ he was makin’ it snow in the summertime. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“When ah think about how yer friend Twilight turned a frog into an orange… nnnope, not that odd.”
“See, that’s just part of the problem!” Applejack huffed. “Ah thought for sure that there was somethin’ eerie ‘bout that stallion, so ah sent him over t’ Twilight’s figurin’ that if he was havin’ trouble with his magic, she could help.”
“Eeyup.”
“Ah was frettin’ all afternoon ‘bout sendin’ that strange stallion t’ one of mah friends, so ah went to check on ‘em this afternoon…” Big Macintosh heaved a sigh as he began to piece together what was really going on even before Applejack finished her explanation. “That stallion ain’t the one with the problem, brother. It’s… it’s me.” Not bothering to wait for tears to form, Big Macintosh reached over with a hoof and easily pulled Applejack close, holding her tightly. “When ah found ‘im, they were just readin’ like they didn’t have a care in the world. Ah didn’t even know his name when ah walked in, but in the short time that he’d been there Twilight had ‘im all cleaned up and civilized. He was probably just down on ‘is luck, and ah… ah turned him away ‘cause ah… ah couldn’t…”
“Hush now, it ain’t that bad,” Big Macintosh murmured softly, squeezing a little tighter as his sister’s shoulders began to quake. “There ain’t no real harm done, an’ ah reckon Twilight’s right thankful that ya sent him t’ the library; Ya’ll know how that mare likes readin’.”
“T-that ain’t the point!” Applejack managed, sniffling and despising every drop of weakness trying to seep out from the corners of her eyes. “Ah… ah hate bein’ like this, Big Mac… suspectin’ ill of a pony just ‘cause they ain’t a mare... It ain’t right, it just ain’t!” With nowhere else to turn, she buried her face in her brother’s chest and let the dams break. Yielding without reservation as heavy hooves drew her close, Applejack let the last of her walls fall down flat, accepting comfort from the one pony who knew just how fragile she really felt, and the only pony whom she had trusted with her deepest secret.
“There’ll be time t’ work later on,” she heard murmured in her ear. “Just rest fer now, sis. You ain’t carryin’ this burden on yer own.” Even had she wanted to work, Applejack doubted she would have had the strength, and with little more than a feeble nod, she succumbed to the desire to be accepted as she was: a frightened filly who, despite her every intention to be honest, pretended to be the strong pony she never was.
Though Twilight hadn’t realized how badly she needed food, by the time she finished eating, she felt like a new pony. Sipping on the last of her water as the afternoon sun warmed her back, Twilight watched with quiet amusement as her guest regressed in age approximately ten years, sparring with Spike using flimsy leaves of lettuce and generally putting forth no effort towards cultivating his image. Perhaps it was for that very reason that the mare found herself so at ease, that willingness to present himself as he was. While he seemed to fluctuate between quiet sobriety and adolescent excitement, Twilight couldn’t say she minded either: they both had their charms, and it kept things interesting. Though she was loathe to interrupt the boys from their game, she knew that there were yet things on her mental checklist that needed their attention. Just as the heroic dragon triumphed over the wicked wizard, she cleared her throat and took a moment to appreciate their completely unabashed expressions.
“Not a single ounce of shame between the two of them,” Twilight thought with fondness, making no effort to hide her mirth. “All right, you two, I think you’ve both had enough salad for a day,” she began, disarming them both and placing the tattered leaves back in the bowl. “Spike, are you all finished with your chores?”
“Almost! Just a few more shelves to organize,” he quipped in high spirits.
“Alright, then, go ahead and finish up there. I’ll take care of the kitchen, and together we should have this place tidied up in no time!” Bidding them adieu with a quick salute, Spike tottered off to be about his work while Twilight gathered the entire contents of the table and lifted it over to the sink. Switching on the faucet with a quick flick of her magic, Twilight plugged the drain, poured in some soap, and waited patiently for the water to pool to about halfway before gently lowering down the tableware into the suds with only minimal clinking. Humming softly to herself as she began studiously scrubbing each dish to a pristine shine, she didn’t notice that Cerulean had joined her at the sink until he moved the faucet head to the other side and began rinsing the dishes she had finished with.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Twilight said quickly, slightly embarrassed. “You’re my guest; You shouldn’t have to do house work.”
“Hmmm, perhaps not, but I’d still like to help if that’s alright,” Cerulean replied cheerfully, flashing Twilight a smile before returning his attention to the bowl he was freeing of bubbles.
“Well, alright… as long as you don’t feel compelled to do so on my account,” Twilight consented after a short pause.
“Let’s see now,” Cerulean began with a hint of amusement, “you took me in when nopony would offer a place to rest, showed me kindness when others regarded me with fear, gave me the opportunity to free myself of weeks worth of filth, and fed me the first proper meal I’ve had in quite some time…” Hearing a clink, Cerulean glanced over to find Twilight bashfully avoiding eye contact, though she couldn’t seem to hide the faint smile tugging at the corners of her muzzle. “Trust me,” he assured her softly, “helping you wash the dishes is the least I could do.”
“Then why is it that I’m the one who feels indebted to you?” Twilight returned, welcoming the warmth welling in her chest from his expressions of gratitude. “You came to comfort me when I was feeling down, even though we had only just met. You took the words I hadn’t meant to say and used them to encourage me rather than remind me of my mistakes, and brushed aside my quirks as if they weren’t bothersome at all. If I can be honest, I… think it’s really me that should be thanking you.” Though she knew to look up then would make it apparent how taken she was finding herself to be, Twilight had to make sure that Cerulean knew she had meant what she said, and as she turned towards the only stallion who had left her with a shred of confidence, she found her guest similarly afflicted.
“You… that’s really how feel?” he asked with evident bafflement.
“Well… yes, I do,” Twilight returned slowly, growing hesitant as she noticed a faint blush showing violent against Cerulean’s blue coat. “Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay, Twilight,” he replied, turning back towards the sink. “So many times, it feels like it’s only the ponies who accomplish great things that receive any kind of notice, while those who dedicate themselves to consistent, though lesser, displays of goodwill are taken for granted. That fact that you appreciate the smaller things that most would ignore, it…” he paused, glancing over at her. “It really means a lot to me.”
“For what it’s worth,” she started, placing a hoof on his shoulder, “I didn’t think they were small.” She couldn’t have anticipated that her words would move him so, and it was with great surprise that she found Cerulean’s neck pressed against her own as he closed the distance between them. Her hooves moved naturally to return the shaky embrace within which she found herself being held, and though she wasn’t one to disregard the task at hand, Twilight determined that the dishes could wait for a few minutes. Though she was perplexed by his behavior, the warmth that lay just under the cool of his coat was more than sufficient to prove that whatever had moved Cerulean, it wasn’t something to worry about. The apology whispered in her ear, however, wasn’t something she could let him get away with.
“Hey, there’s no reason for you to be sorry,” Twilight corrected gently as she pulled away. “Listen, I… I’m really new at being friends with stallions- actually, you’re the first that has stuck around long enough for me to even have the chance. I can’t guarantee that I’ll always have the right answers, and I may not have the qualifications to be your editor, but I do enjoy your company, and... I’d like to be your friend.”
“I don’t know very much about friendship at all,” Cerulean replied, averting his eyes. “I never had many friends, and fewer that stayed around for long. If I call you a friend, then it probably means you’ll leave, too…” Twilight’s spirits fell along with her gaze as she heard the words, torn between urging that he give friendship another chance while understanding full well just how painful it can be lose those friendships. Though they had always patched things up, she could count a number of times when her friends had left her alone, and those were some of the darkest days in her life.
“I… think I understand,” Twilight replied sagely, nodding slowly. “Even if you can’t return my friendship, I’d still like to show you what it’s like to have one.” Though it hurt hearing him express doubt in the magic that she’d spent the last three years studying fervently, the sadness it brought only made her more determined to help Cerulean see that friendship really did exist, and that it was something nopony should live without. “And,” she added with a hopeful smile, “if it’s alright with you, I’d still like to be your editor.”
“Again, you offer what I have no right to ask for...” Cerulean responded ruefully, meeting Twilight’s gentleness with what little hope he could muster. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll always be agreeable to your help, but I want you to know that no matter what I say, your care is more appreciated than you can know.”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually,” Twilight quipped, nudging him playfully towards the sink. “Come on, there are dishes to clean and we still need to get you to the dentist. If anypony can fix your breath, it will be our Colgate.”
“Still pretty wilting, huh?”
“Adding fresh vegetables to a pile of compost doesn’t make it smell any better,” Twilight returned with a giggle, washing the last of the glasses and lifting it over to Cerulean. “Besides, if you haven’t brushed in a while, I’m sure there’s some major plaque buildup that’s going to cause problems down the road if it isn’t properly cleaned; It isn’t just about your breath.”
There really was no arguing with the mare’s logic. Cerulean wasn’t about to deny her hospitality, and as he stacked the last of the dishes onto the draining rack, he grew curious as Twilight neared with her horn shimmering at the ready. He had heard ponies comment about how impressive some of his feats involving ice magic had been, but Cerulean found himself fascinated as the mare insta-dried the dishes, evaporating the water with a carefully controlled field of heat and sending out a billowing cloud of steam as the magic faded. Opening several cupboard doors, Twilight continued using her magic as she usually did with little awareness of how genuinely stunning her abilities were, sorting and stacking plates, bowls, glasses and other utensils with relative ease. She was almost finished by the time Cerulean found his voice, and she paused with only last bowl poised in transit as he spoke up.
“You’re amazing…”
“Huh? Oh! I wasn’t meaning to show off!” Twilight assured him, fidgeting nervously with the bowl. “I just like to use magic for everything, and I sometimes forget how that looks to other ponies, and...”
“What? No, I didn’t think you were. You’re just startlingly talented,” Cerulean corrected with a shake of his head. “I’ve never had any problem focusing intently on just one thing, but I can’t maintain split focus like it takes to levitate multiple objects. I can do two if they are both held in front of me, maybe three if I’m feeling ambitious, but that… I’ve never seen such advanced levitation used before. It’s really very, well, amazing.” Being complimented on her magic wasn’t terribly uncommon given that Twilight was a unicorn in an earth pony village, but hearing it from Cerulean made it mean so much more. Neither pony was expecting that he would be given a perfect opportunity to prove his point so soon.
WHAM. With her focus completely derailed by the jarring sound of pony warring with timber, Twilight yelped at the thunderous sound and lost her grip of the bowl, but as she braced for the sound of shattering glass, she found the bowl held steady by a shimmering blue aura.
“See? Just one thing,” Cerulean laughed, looking mightily pleased with himself.
“That’s all fine and dandy, but I don’t think that bowl is my biggest worry right now,” Twilight explained with a sigh, opening a cupboard door to find that all her careful organization had been undone in a moment. “I’d better go see what that was about.” With her obsessive need for order crying foul and her plans to tote Cerulean about town pushed back, Twilight marched towards the inner room with every intent to give whoever had seemingly torn the door from its hinges a reproving diatribe they wouldn’t soon forget. Her mind was forced to take a brief hiatus as she found that the door wasn’t torn from its hinges, but actually blown from them in multiple chunks and several thousand splinters. There, in the center of it all, was a cyan pegasus with mane, coat, and wings coated in a gooey white substance that Twilight was all too familiar with.
“Rai-” Twilight started, barely getting out the first syllable before the pegasus with trembling limbs and heaving chest snapped to attention.
“Twilight!” Rainbow Dash cried out, dashing over and wrapping her unfortunate friend in a pasty vice grip of visceral terror. Twilight managed to squeak out half of a syllable of pure displeasure before she too was sharing in her friend’s condition, and she found her vocabulary suddenly filled with words she didn’t oft find cause to utter as the sickly sensation of viscous ooze once again graced her coat. “Twilight, you gotta do something! Pinkie Pie and Colgate have both gone totally crazy!”
“And that’s... somehow... news?!” Twilight fired back, straining against her bonds and finally popping free with an aggravating slurping noise. “At least when Pinkie Pie shows up unexpectedly, she doesn’t leave my door in a thousand pieces!”
“What? But I- whatever!” Rainbow Dash sputtered out with a dismissive flick of her hoof, landing a dollop of toothpaste on the tip of Twilight’s snout. “You wouldn’t be worrying about the door if you had any idea what I’ve been through this afternoon! It was horrible!”
“Let me guess,” Twilight began, donning a wry, knowing smile to accompany her half-lidded glare and droll tone. “Pinkie wanted you to try Colgate’s ‘special treatment,’ you agreed, and then got blasted with her mechanical menace of a toothpaste dispenser.” Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to retort, and then deadpanned as she realized that Twilight was actually a clairvoyant savant who had perfected the art of mind reading.
“I... well... yeah, pretty much,” Rainbow Dash muttered, her volatile state utterly defused by Twilight’s freakish knowledge of unorthodox dental practice. “How did you know?”
“Let’s just say I’ve already had my trip to the dentist today,” Twilight replied, lifting out a washcloth from the kitchen and scrubbing at her coat. The hug hadn’t left her terribly filthy, and with a little work she was soon fluoride free once more, freeing her mind to focus on Rainbow Dash. It was a rare sight, seeing a pony with an ego as expansive as the skies looking so thoroughly miserable, and after taking a few deep breaths and rubbing that space between her eyes that throbbed whenever she was stressed, Twilight reached deep for some compassion. She then found herself scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel as Rainbow Dash moved to preen herself, spat out a mouthful of toothpaste onto the floor, and then flicked her wings in a frantic attempt to dislodge the remainder of the paste.
“Rainbow Dash, stop! You’re making an even bigger mess!” Twilight barked, shielding herself from the spray.
“Well, excuse me for wanting to get this stuff off my wings!” Rainbow Dash snapped back with a challenging glare. “Wouldn’t you wanna get clean? All this mint is starting to burn!”
“At least you didn’t get it blasted straight up your nose!” Twilight returned with indignation.
“Well I- uh... but it-” Rainbow Dash stalled, simultaneously horrified at the thought of taking a laser blast to the sinuses and yet desperate to maintain her crown of victimhood. “You don’t know what it’s like to get it in your wings! I mean... these things are sensitive,” she pouted, craning around and giving them an experimental flap. Both ponies took a reprieve from their bickering as a large glob of gooey cavity protection fell from the tip of Rainbow’s wing with a fantastic plop, punctuating her point. “Even after I get all this junk cleaned off, it’s going to take hours of preening to get my wings back in shape...”
“Look, I’m sorry you listened to Pinkie Pie, okay?” Twilight began, doing her best to maintain a level tone. “But that’s no excuse to come rushing in here and ruin my library! You can use my shower if you want to get cleaned up now, but just… keep the toothpaste away from my books, alright?”
“Yeah, fine, whatever…” Slinking off towards the shower with her ego hiding in the corner alongside her confidence, Rainbow Dash started towards the stairs but instead halted about halfway there upon realizing she was being stared at by somepony she’d never seen before. What was even more curious to her is that said pony was a stallion, and seeing a stallion inside the library was about as common as celestial phenomena in that it only seemed to happen once every few years. Still shaken from her trip to the dentist but not wanting to appear weak in front of a guy, albeit a fairly girly looking one, Rainbow Dash dragged her confidence out of the corner and gave him an average how-do-you-do. “What’re you lookin’ at, huh?” Rainbow Dash snapped, glowering at Cerulean. “You got somethin’ you wanna say?”
“M-my apologies, I wasn’t meaning to stare,” came his quiet reply, and even Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but feel a little bad as he discreetly withdrew around the corner. She turned to ask Twilight where she’d found her new Fluttershy and immediately put her question on hold as she found herself held fast in Twilight’s disapproving gaze. With the words “fix it” being actively carved into her hide by the violet daggers being pointed her way, Rainbow Dash trotted towards the kitchen to try a somewhat gentler approach with the stallion.
“Hey, I wasn’t- wah!” Loosing a startled cry as she rounded the corner and found herself not inches from the pony in question, she launched herself into the air with a spray of toothpaste and met the ceiling with a dull thud before flopping to the ground with both hooves held over her smarting noggin. “Agh, what’d you go and do that for?” she half-growled, half whined. “Don’t you know it’s rude to- rrrrgh, rude to sneak up on ponies?”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to,” Cerulean murmured, giving Twilight a passing glance as she watched from the doorway. “I know they were arguing just a few minutes ago, but I think this mare is one of Twilight’s friends. She looks miserable…”
Too distracted with trying to ward off tears from the combination of humiliation from being a fraidy pony and the pain of using her head as a battering ram twice in one day, Rainbow Dash didn’t bother gritting out another accusation. She knew that he was obviously not at fault, and hearing him be so appropriately apologetic was only making her feel worse. Being confrontational was second nature to the mare, but even Fluttershy seemed to deal with it better than whoever the quiet blue guy was, and with no intention of giving him any more grief for fear of both Twilight’s judgement and that of her own conscience, Rainbow Dash focused instead on figuring out the least humiliating way to drag herself to the shower. Her thoughts were disrupted as she found herself quite unexpectedly cool, and she opened her eyes to find Cerulean standing before her with his horn shining bright.
“W-what’re you-”
“Stand up,” he commanded softly as magic continued gathering around his horn. “I can help.” Knowing that magic could be freaky business but not feeling particularly threatened, Rainbow Dash swallowed hard as she reassured herself that Twilight wouldn’t let him do anything strange to her. Shakily getting to her hooves, the pegasus grit her teeth and fought to tame the tremors that were giving her away.
“Could you, um… spread your wings?”
“You want me to what?” Rainbow Dash cried, her voice cracking at the end.
“Do it, Rainbow Dash!” Twilight exclaimed, her eyes shining with anticipation. “I’m sure it’ll be fine! Cerulean isn’t the type for funny business, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!” Incredulous, Dash slowly turned away from her excitable colleague and back to the stallion who barely stood above her in height. It was true that she couldn’t imagine the pony before her doing anything untoward, and while it was still an uncomfortable request, she knew she owed Twilight for something. Probably.
“You do anything strange, and I’ll pound you good, got it?” she warned the colt, meaning every word. Repaid with a contrite nod, Rainbow Dash looked away and slowly stretched out her wings, cringing as the gooey substance worked deeper into her feathers. There was a brief delay before anything happened, but with a gust of cool wind the aura in her peripherals grew, and she watched with skeptical fascination as ribbons of magic began wrapping around her foreleg. They didn’t seem to actually make contact with her skin, but hover just above it, and even as a pegasus she found herself growing intrigued as first one leg, then a wing, and then another leg were cloak in ethereal strands of aquamarine.
“Take a deep breath,” Cerulean instructed as the shroud covered all but her face. A droplet of sweat beaded on his brow as the strain reached deeply into his shallow pool of strength, but the thought of helping somepony on Twilight’s behalf brought with it what was needed to complete the spell.
From the sidelines, Twilight was beside herself with barely contained excitement as the last of Rainbow Dash’s muzzle faded from view. From there, the ribbons began to contract, tightening and eventually fusing with one another until there was nothing but a gleaming representation of Equestria’s best young flier. With a brilliant flash of light, the last stage of the spell loosed from Cerulean’s horn, and Twilight sat down hard as she looked to find Rainbow Dash completely encased in ice. Breathless, Twilight watched in awe as he reached forward and tapped the ice gently with his hoof in conjunction with a short burst of magic, and just as quickly as the ice had formed, it shattered into thousands of snowflakes.
“C-cold! Coldcoldcold, so v-very c-cold!” Rainbow exclaimed, scuffling away from Cerulean. “W-w-what the h-hay d-did you d-do that for?” she yelled, rubbing her forelegs furiously in an attempt to rid herself of the chill.
“You’re all clean now, aren’t you?” he returned with a hopeful smile, motioning for the mare to see for herself. Skeptical at first, she spent a few more seconds glaring at the grinning prankster before looking down at herself to find that she was completely free of the glop that had been smeared all over her coat.
“W-what the…” she said, staring in disbelief. Bringing her wings around, she brushed a few powdering flakes away and found them every bit as spotless as the rest of her. There were a few feathers out of place and she would still need to spend a decent chunk of time preening, but that didn’t change the fact that Cerulean had saved loads of time not having to shower, and that was reason enough to change her opinion of him. “Th-this… is... a-awesome!” she exclaimed, swooping into the air and landing in front of Cerulean. “I’m n-not gonna ask how you did it, b-but that was pretty radical. What’s your n-name?”
“Cerulean,” he answered, pleasantly surprised with the reception of his trick. “Oh, almost forgot!” Reaching down, he scooped some snow into his hoof and plopped it down on top of Dash’s bump. “Sorry about your head, uh…
“Rainbow Dash, nice to meetcha,” she replied promptly, offering a hoof bump. It took him a little bit to realize why she was waving her hoof at him, but he caught on after a few moments.
“I really wasn’t trying to scare you,” he began to say, though his worries were summarily erased as Rainbow Dash snickered at him for being so apologetic.
“Are you still going on about that?” Rainbow Dash laughed, rolling her eyes and holding her head with a rueful grin stamped on her muzzle. “Don’t even worry about it! Even though I’m Equestria’s number one flier, I’ve had my fair share of crashes, and that one was nothing. Oh, and for the record? I wasn’t scared. Anyways, I’ve got stuff to do, so I’ll be seeing you around. Later, Cerulean! Bye, Twilight.”
Brushing passed the unresponsive mare who hadn’t said a word since having her mind blown by such an intuitive use of unconventional magic, Rainbow Dash trotted off in high spirits while her friend tried desperately to find her voice. While the spell was no doubt taxing and the strain was evident in Cerulean’s fatigued grin, bearing witness to new magic that had both proved practical and impressive was something that Twilight had secretly hoped for but not expected to see, or at least not in that magnitude.
“See?” he chuckled weakly, feeling light-headed, “just one thing.” Plopping his rump down and bringing a hoof to his head, he closed his eyes as the strain caused him to sway.
“Th-that… was… AMAZING!” Cracking open his eyes just in time to see the mare leaping at him, Cerulean had little time to brace for impact before being bowled over by the power of scientific inquiry and manifest obsession with all things magical, also known as one Twilight Sparkle. “I didn’t even know magic could be used like that! I mean, sure, I knew that there were spells to conjure most of the elements, but using a restricted field to lower the temperature within an isolated space to freeze off toothpaste and then using a resonant frequency to shatter the generated ice structure? That’s not just smart, it’s genius!”
“You… deduced all that just through observation?” he asked, too astonished by the mare’s perception to manage volume above a murmur.
“Empirical analysis is extremely important for any kind of experimentation, scientific or magical!” Twilight explained giddily, unconcerned with the fact that she was, for all intents and purposes, straddling her guest. “Generating fields with that kind of complexity is highly advanced magic, but that’s nothing compared to manipulating the condensed moisture in the air to freeze evenly around a pony’s coat! Oh, tell me you’ll teach me how to use that spell! Please?”
“I-”
“Pretty please?”
“But it’s-”
“Please pleasepleaseplease please~?”
“Her enthusiasm is infectious,” Cerulean thought as he peered back at the beaming mare. There was no reason he saw to deny her request, and more importantly, he felt excited to do so, something that struck him as monumental in and of itself. “Are you, the editor, asking me, the scribbled mess, for instruction in the ways of winter?” Cerulean asked with a grin.
“Are you, the scribbled mess, asking me, the editor, a silly question?” Twilight chortled in reply, beaming back.
“Hmmm, I suppose I am,” he pondered aloud, secretly thankful that the mare hadn’t noticed her position and spooked. While their coats weren’t touching, the height of her fervor was evident in the heat emanating from her body, breaking upon the cool of his own like waves lapping at the ocean shore. Inhaling deeply as a contented sigh welled within his chest, Cerulean held his breath for a moment as the lingering scent of Twilight’s mane tickled his senses before letting it out slow, purposefully pointing his muzzle away so as to spare her nose. “I’m not even sure I can properly explain each individual spell, but I can at least share the theory behind them. We should probably get going, though, before anypony else shows up.”
“Why would that matter?”
“This isn’t the most conventional position for studying.” Glancing down and staring for a couple of moments at the pony between her legs, Twilight offered a sheepish chuckle as she discretely backed away.
“I’m just going to go,” she started, pausing midway through as she bumped into her lectern, “...gonna go, um… right.” Embarrassed with her behavior and perplexed as to how Cerulean could be both accepting and calm in a position that would have had her stammering and breathless, Twilight wandered aimlessly over to the kitchen before realizing that she had no real reason to be there. Irked by her inability to focus, she returned to the main room to find Cerulean dutifully culling the fragments of wood into a pile with his magic, one chunk at a time.
It was therapeutic to watch the stallion focus so intently on the simple task, and it wasn’t long before she found herself beginning to calm. Listening with concealed amusement as Spike shamelessly tried to escape the inevitable chore of cleaning up Rainbow Dash’s mess by offering Cerulean a broom, Twilight remembered the task at hoof and reached into the closet to pack for their trip into Ponyville. Chuckling quietly as her assistant’s benevolent offer was politely refused, Twilight stuffed some bits in the bag along with some emergency reading material and cantered over to Cerulean, who had amassed a surprisingly large mound of chips in the short time he’d been collecting them.
“You do know you don’t have to worry about cleaning up, right?” Twilight reminded him in the hopes of easing any obligation he might have felt.
“Oh, I know,” he replied readily, standing with a grin. “I was only flexing my magic a little. I haven’t used it much as of late, and wanted to make sure I could still use my levitation for more than holding a dish.”
“What about the snow you were using to keep yourself cool when I first found you here?” Twilight asked, always one for details. “Doesn’t that count?” Not having known what it was she was asking, Twilight wasn’t expecting the ensuing silence her question invoked. Apart from blinking once, Cerulean made no motion to respond to her inquiry, nor gave any apparent sign that he had even heard what she’d asked. She watched him turn his attention back towards his pile of wood chips and, after adding a few more, he finally responded in a worryingly neutral tone.
“...I suppose.”
“Note to self: don’t ask about his snow,” Twilight cautioned herself, though she couldn’t help but wonder. “Why would that be a sensitive thing for him to talk about, I wonder? Being able to keep cool during the summer through skillful manipulation of the elements would be something to be proud of, not… whatever it is he’s showing now. Shame? No, not quite, but something close…” Chiding herself for getting distracted and shelving her curiosity with great difficulty, Twilight refocused and shifted the subject. “So, um… are you ready to go?”
“Sure am!” he quipped, shifting from passive to excited without notice. “These teeth of mine aren’t going to clean themselves. Unless, of course, you have a spell for that?”
“Not off the top of my head, but I’m positive we could figure something out!” Twilight proclaimed, pleased to see that she hadn’t dampened his spirits too much. “Still, it would probably be faster to just go see the dentist. Her office isn’t going to be open much longer, so we should probably get moving. Spike? Could you try to have this all swept up before we get back?”
“You can count on me!” Spike said confidently, practically pushing the pair out the door. “Don’t worry about a thing, you two. I’ll have this place cleaned up in no time! Have fun!” Spike didn’t have any particular appreciation for chores, but how could he think about himself when Twilight might have finally found what she’d been searching for? She might have had the wherewithal to rationally deduce that nothing was certain, but as Spike watched the pair canter into town, all he could see was his closest friend filled to the brim with hesitant wonder, and for that alone, he was grateful to Cerulean. “Now then, time to get started! It’s just one more thing, right?” he told himself as he turned around. The splinters seemed to have migrated to every nook and cranny of the library, showing on shelves and between books, and even on the stairs. “Just one more thing,” he repeated with a groan as he started to sweep. “There’s always just one more thing…”
