During a quest for warmth, a young Spike causes problems for an only slightly less young Twilight Sparkle.
Dragons are remarkably resilient creatures. Perhaps the most dramatic example of this is their ability to bathe in molten rock as casually as a pony might relax in a hot tub. The temperatures involved would burn a pony before they even got close enough to touch it but dragons are made of sterner stuff.
For a dragon living among ponies this means it can be difficult to feel warm.
Long before moving to Ponyville, Spike struggles with this problem when Canterlot slips into the grip of winter. Eventually he braves the cold of the world outside his basket in search of warmth.
But it's Twilight who will be faced with the collateral damage.
A random standalone story that popped into my head the other day. Set a few years before Twilight and Spike move to Ponyville and before Spike becomes Twilight's assistant.
Truthfully, he was almost never warm. Canterlot was a chilly place at the best of times being way up in the mountains, but winter was even colder. Even Celestia's bedroom, where his basket currently sat, was cold. If he really tried he could count up all the times he'd been comfortably warm. Almost. He had a little trouble remembering what numbers came next once he ran out of talons to count on.
Twilight would know. Twilight knew everything about everything. Celestia knew even more than everything. Twilight had told him Celestia knew more than her so it had to be true. Twilight would also know how to stop being cold.
He'd tried things to get warm before but he wasn't supposed to do them again. Twilight had thrown a fit when he'd tried to start a fire in the fireplace to lay in. She threw a bigger one when he tried to set his bed on fire instead. There was now a strict “no fires allowed” policy. He wasn't even supposed to blow flames on his claws.
She hadn't been around much lately, though. Maybe that meant he could make fires again? But, then again, Celestia had also said not to make them on his own. Just that morning she'd sat him down and asked him if he could be a big, mature dragon and look after himself for a little while. He'd promised he'd be a good dragon and he meant to stick to his word. So, no fire.
But he was still cold.
He buried himself a little deeper in his basket. What would Twilight do? If she were cold she'd come up with a solution. He wished he was smart like that. He also wished she would come by to play more often, like she used to. She'd been gone more and more, leaving him alone with Celestia, Cadance and the servants almost all the time whenever he visited the palace. Cadance was busier and busier too, and he hardly ever got to see Shining Armor anymore unless he was with Twilight or Cadance.
He threw off his blanket and clambered up and over the side of his basket, nearly tipping the whole thing on top of himself before he finally made it to the plush, purple carpet. Unsteadily, he shifted his weight onto his back legs and lifted himself upright, careful to hold up his tail to balance himself so he wouldn't fall on his face. A tottering reach back over the basket rim and a flick of his arm later and his beloved blanket was draped over his shoulder like one of those half-capes some old fashioned noble unicorns liked so much.
There wasn't anything he could do about being lonely, but maybe he could figure out something new for the cold. He just had to think like Twilight and he knew exactly where Twilight would start.
He was going to make a checklist.
The more time he spent on the checklist the more excited he became. There was more this checklist could do than just helping him to get warm. After all, Twilight loved checklists so maybe if he got good at making them she'd want to spend time with him again. Getting started had certainly been hard work, and Celestia had always said that hard work paid off in the end.
The first obstacle he'd had to overcome was the fact that all the scrolls, ink and quills were on Celestia's desk in the study. He was very lucky that Celestia hadn't latched the door from the bedroom to the study that morning, so all he had to do was push it open. Getting the tools was harder. Celestia had asked him not to climb the furniture anymore because his talons destroyed the wood. He'd spent a good long while trying to think of some way to climb without digging in his talons before he struck on the idea of flopping his blanket up and over the edge of the desk to knock things down. Most of the ink had even stayed in the bottle!
Writing materials secured, he'd sat down in the middle of the study and gotten to work. He'd watched Twilight and Celestia write a hundred times, how hard could it be? It was just lines on paper.
He'd certainly put a lot of lines down. Lots of loopy, squiggly lines, with nice square boxes next to them for checking, just like Twilight's lists. And, just like Twilight's lists, it was super long. He made sure to start at the very, very top of the scroll and work his way all the way to the bottom. He had to fit as many lines in as he possibly could or he was positive it wouldn't work. The scroll didn't make it easy either. The drying ink kept trying to stick to his feet when he walked down the scroll to the next blank area or when he tried to go back up and squeeze in just one more line into a gap.
After what was almost definitely hours and hours of grueling effort Spike was able to sit back, look upon his hard work and receive his reward!
Any moment now.
Ink dripped off the corner of the desk, snow drifted past the window, more ink crept down the side of his scaly face from where he'd accidentally wiped some across his forehead, and yet he was still cold.
He dropped the quill into a puddle of ink and crawled his way up the inky length of the scroll to the very top. He'd done everything right, hadn't he? Were the lines not squiggly enough? What about the boxes? Sure, he hadn't perfectly closed all of them but they were still boxes, right? Twilight always said that checklists were the solution to any tricky problem so why hadn't it worked?
He sat back and scratched the base of his head spikes. He had the scroll, the quill, the ink, the boxes, the squiggles, what else did a checklist need?
When the answer finally struck him he smacked himself in the forehead with a little purple palm.
“The checks!”
Not wasting a moment, he picked up the quill (tearing a few threads from the carpet along with it) and started checking each and every box, careful to say “Check!” for each and every one. He put an extra big check in the very last box then stepped back to admire the now well and truly completed checklist.
...Why wasn't it working?
He got down on his knees and poked the scroll with a talon. When that produced no results he pinched it and gave it a gentle shake. Then a less gentle shake. Then a full on thrashing and snarling through clenched teeth. Finally he leaped back to his feet and kicked the useless paper away with an inky foot.
“Stupid checklist. I'm going back to bed.”
He reached for his blanket but pulled up just shy of grabbing it. His claw was covered in damp ink. Now that he thought about it, both of them were. And a lot of his belly scales. And his feet, sides, and, well, everything. His little shoulders slumped heavily in sync with his frills.
“Great. Now they'll give me a bath, too.”
Baths were boring. He just had to sit there and get scrubbed by floating brushes for what felt like forever. As far as he was concerned it was time he'd rather spend coloring or playing pretend. Just about the only good thing about it was the water--
...The just barely warm water.
A grin found its way back on his face. Maybe that checklist had worked after all...
She was being levitated through the halls of the palace like a sack of potatoes by a guard who simply refused to listen to a word of her thoroughly logical arguments at the behest of a tutor who also refused to listen to a word of her thoroughly logical arguments. She flailed her hooves frantically in a valiant, if utterly futile, bid for freedom. Attempting to override the guard's spell with her own magic had proven fruitless so flailing was, logically, her best option.
“You are only making this more difficult for yourself, Miss Sparkle,” the tutor, one Final Draft, said in a voice as dry and flat as a painstakingly preserved seven hundred year old, illuminated manuscript page. He was a pale turquoise stallion who wore the crimson, high collared cloak of one of Canterlot's academic elite, and had the faded, salt and pepper mane to go with it.
“But--! But--! I have note cards!” Twilight protested. “I've drafted an entire presentation to back up my case!”
“That may be. However, the Princess specifically forbade any lectures on this subject. Her decision has been made.”
“But she might not have considered all the evidence! I can't let her act on incomplete data! The theories are completely sound!” The trio rounded the corner that brought them into the final hallway, at the end of which Celestia's chambers lay. She was running out of time. “The spells are safe and well tested.”
“They are also not intended for extended use. Nor are they for over-eager fillies to use for all night study sessions.”
“But how am I ever going to learn everything about magic if I keep having to stop to sleep!? I've run the numbers and the results are alarming! At this rate it will take me until I'm well into my teens just to get my first diploma!”
“Imagine that. You might have to graduate alongside the rest of the students your age.”
“Exactly!”
“That,” Final Draft stopped before Celestia's door and turned on the spot to fix his errant student with a pointed look, “was admonishment. Not endorsement.”
“But I'm Celestia's personal student! She's expecting me to excel! If I'm only keeping pace with everypony else how can I possibly live up to her expectations!?”
“The Princess has expressed her satisfaction with your progress on multiple occasions. Do you recall the incident when you attempted to use the speed reading spell?”
“I just needed some more practice,” Twilight grumbled. “I'd have gotten it right.”
“Or your effort to eliminate the need for bathroom breaks.”
“That would have worked if you hadn't stopped me.”
“And the portal incident.”
Twilight finally cringed. “Okay, that was a bad idea.”
“Indeed,” Final Draft's dry voice somehow became drier.
“See? I can admit to a bad idea when I have one! That means you can't dismiss this idea out of hoof!”
“They were all bad ideas.” A flare of bright orange magic to match Draft's eyes took hold of the door handle and swung the entryway open. “You are a bright student, Miss Sparkle, but you need to learn to restrain your enthusiasm and your anxiety. Look before you leap.”
“But I have to impress the Princess!”
“Then I suggest you try doing as she asks.”
“But-!” She was set back on her hooves inside Celestia's chambers by the guard. “But-!” Her saddlebags were lifted off her back and levitated to Final Draft's side by his own magic. “But-!”
“Classes are over for the week and you have completed all your assignments. By order of Princess Celestia, you are to take the weekend off. Her Majesty also asks that you spend a little time looking after young Spike. She and Princess Cadance are otherwise occupied.”
Twilight's lip trembled, her eyes shimmered with barely restrained despair. “But how can I study while watching Spike?”
“Don't.”
The door snapped shut just shy of whacking her in the muzzle.
Don't study. Don't study!? How could she not study? Studying was the one thing, the one solitary thing she was good at. Being Celestia's student was her everything ever since she'd passed her entrance exam. She wasn't athletic, she was no artist and, Celestia help her, she was certainly no cook. Studying magic was her passion, her purpose. It was right there on her flank for anypony to see!
Besides, she wasn't allowed to do much else. Ever since the exam her magic had gotten… touchy. Celestia had her doing mostly basic exercises in her practical lessons to learn to focus and control her power rather than learning to cast a lot of spells like other similarly gifted unicorns did. Control, control, control, study, study, study, that had been her mantra for the past several years.
A miserable sigh later she was seated on her haunches with her back to the door. Now she was stuck on foalsitting duty. Why? Why didn't Celestia want her to study? Had she done something wrong? Had she broken some kind of school rule she wasn't aware of? She'd read the rule book cover to cover her first week, so that seemed unlikely. Maybe Celestia was going to adjust her curriculum? She'd changed the syllabus before. Of course, she'd also told her to stop studying before, usually to spend time with her BBBFF, the best foalsitter ever, or her parents and Spike. She'd never been called off of studying just to look after Spike though.
She got back up on her hooves. The sooner she found Spike the better. The little dragon was usually very good and well behaved… until he got an idea in his head. Get him excited and he became a scaly little disaster area. He destroyed furniture, burned books, shredded carpeting and drapes, burned books, or got ash everywhere after deciding to nap in the fireplace. If she was lucky the little terror would be safely asleep in his basket and would stay that way until Celestia or Cadance showed up.
Celestia's suite was a fairly simple affair. A sitting room in the middle with a study to the left and the bedroom suite (with luxury en suite bathroom) to the right. If Spike was napping he'd probably be in his basket in the bedroom. Twilight walked across the luxuriously furnished sitting room, skirting the chairs, lounges and coffee tables arranged throughout.
The bedroom door was ajar, easily swung open with a light push of a hoof. Twilight's heart sank when she saw that the basket was empty.
“Okay, not the end of the world,” she said in a tone that suggested that she was already starting to suspect that it was, “he's probably just napping somewhere else! No need to panic. Nothing is on fire so he can't be causing too much trouble.” A deep, steadying breath bolstered her enough to calm her nerves.
She turned about and trotted back out into the sitting room, this time banking towards the study. The study door was unlatched as well. He'd probably wandered into the study and fallen asleep on Celestia's chair. Nothing to worry about.
...Why was there a black splotch on the floor?
And the door. And the door frame.
Twilight's magic grabbed the door handle and pushed.
“Sweet… Celestia...” Eyes wider than the door took in the scene before her. The slightly battered scroll looped and sprawled on the carpet, the bottle of ink toppled at its side, the papers and quills scattered around the desk. The ink. Sweet merciful Celestia, the ink! “Ha… hwa… heee… huu...”
Spike had gotten into the writing materials. He'd spent what had to be hours doodling and scribbling and in the process, somehow, had gotten ink everywhere. Based on the black little foot and claw prints, that included all over himself. Twilight's half glazed eyes followed the line of splotchy footprints she'd failed to notice before across the floor, out the door, and into the sitting room where they faded away towards the bedroom. Her hooves carried her along the same path into the center of room. Her gaze drifted up towards the ceiling and her jaw drifted down towards the floor at the sight of the faint wisps of steam snaking out from above the bathroom door.
The only thing that stopped her from galloping to the bathroom was the fact that she got there before she could build up to that much speed. The door crashed open so forcefully that the handle embedded itself in the wall behind it.
Spike had been asleep, head and arms draped over the side of the bathroom sink overflowing with hot water and bubbles, but he didn't stay that way for long. The sound of property damage jerked him awake and sent water cascading over the edge of the sink to join the sudsy puddle already covering the floor.
“Huh…? Mommy?” He sat up, shook his head to free it of suds and fog, and blinked down at Twilight. “Twilight! You're… er, are you okay?”
“What are you doing?”
“Um-”
Raspberry sparks sizzled around the tip of Twilight's horn. “What. Are you. Doing!?”
The little dragon shrank away from the edge of the sink. “Bath time?”
Twilight's right eyelid twitched. Before she could launch into the diatribe welling up her throat, she was interrupted by the sound of a hoof knocking on the main door three times with the measured precision of one of the palace servants.
“Stay. Put.”
She turned on the spot and trotted almost mechanically back out to the sitting room to answer the door. A tan, auburn maned pegasus mare on the other side sank into a shallow bow as soon as it opened.
“Good afternoon, Miss Sparkle. I'm just informing everypony that we seem to have run out of hot water.”
“Run… out...?”
The mare straightened and rubbed a hoof against her opposing fetlock. “I'm afraid so. Given the season, the water we have left is very cold so I'd advise against trying to bathe for the next few hours. Prince Blueblood got a nasty shock when he tried to take a shower a few minutes ago.” The corner of the mare's mouth twitched ever so slightly but she otherwise kept up her guise of professionalism. That is, until she met Twilight's twitching eye. “Are… you alright, Miss Sparkle?”
Twilight's fur stood on end. “Fine! Yes, fine. Everything is fine and wonderful and definitely not a disaster!” Twilight put on what she desperately hoped was a casual and friendly smile.
“Er, yes. Do you… need any help?”
“NO! Er, no, no everything's fine, everything's good here, now. How are you?”
The servant stared down at the filly in bewilderment. “I'm… well? Thank you for… asking?”
“Great! That means everypony is fine and there's definitely nothing at all that you need to be concerned about going on here.”
Twilight's smile took on a certain... unnatural quality when the sound of cascading water echoed behind her.
“Are you certain there's nothing wrong? If there's been a mess of some kind I'd be happy to-”
“Thankswe'regoodgottagobye!” Twilight shouted over the sound of more water splashing and the door slamming shut.
Princess Celestia stood tall on one of the many balconies of the royal palace, looking out past the rooftops to the horizon beyond.
It had taken a great deal of effort to schedule this brief respite. No matter how much she delegated to various nobles, appointees, and elected officials, Equestria always found more work to fill the void. There were some things she just couldn't get out of her hooves. Ponies liked to meet with her personally, even on matters where she technically wasn't the final word anymore. Constitutional monarchy or not, nothing reassured a foreign diplomat, business magnate or politician quite like an audience with her. And nothing quite swayed opinions like her word.
Would that she had somepony to share that burden with.
She ruffled her feathers against the winter chill. All in good time. Equestria had been at peace for so very long, a few minor incidents not withstanding, and it was due for a bit of upheaval. The world tended to turn in cycles and many of them were coming around for their next pass. A thousand year prophecy was rapidly approaching its conclusion, to whatever end. Soon after that the Dragon Lord would make his summons, and there was no telling who would rise to the challenge. Perhaps a new era of friendship, perhaps a burst dam. Who knew what else would shake loose once one calamity got the ball rolling?
Still, she had options.
Young Cadance was shaping up to be a fine mare and princess. She was strong and compassionate, with a heart big enough for all Equestria… and eyes for a certain young guard. A smile pulled at Celestia's mouth at that thought. She couldn't fault the younger princess's taste. A charming young stallion to be sure. A bit of a nervous goofball in private but charming all the same. It was adorable how they thought nopony else had caught on. The two of them would play a big part in the next couple of decades, that much she was sure of.
Then there was little Twilight. Celestia was at a loss when it came to how one family had produced two spell casters of such power at the same time. Shining Armor's focus was narrow but his sheer strength was incredible. Already he could conjure a barrier large enough to encompass a small city and strong enough to protect it. His little sister looked to be even stronger if that little outburst during her test was anything to judge by. All the more reason that this time in her schedule was so important.
Twilight was proving to be a challenge. Very clever, very eager to please and very, very much in need of help. The other teachers and tutors thought that her worries for Twilight were overblown. Plenty of overly anxious youngsters mellowed out with age so why should Twilight be any different? And even if she didn't, anxious, obsessive and antisocial basically summed up many of Equestria's greatest theoreticians. So she wanted to lock herself away in a library forever. Where was the harm?
How quickly ponies forget history. Celestia saw in Twilight many of the same warning signs she'd missed oh so long ago. Her anxiety and desperation for approval and validation spoke to her loneliness even if she couldn't see it in herself. Twilight was a pony who needed other ponies around her to stop her falling into her own worst habits. One need only see the way she lit up at the sight of her big brother or her former foalsitter to know that she wasn't nearly as antisocial as she let on.
Celestia had tried to push her towards her fellow students to no avail. Twinkleshine, Lemon Hearts, and Minuette were all delightful fillies who would make wonderful friends. Twilight barely seemed to notice them, even when Lemon Hearts had somehow gotten her head stuck in an Erlenmare flask. She'd even tried putting her and Moon Dancer together in lab activity after lab activity in the hopes that birds of a feather would finally flock together. Thus far both of them kept their muzzles in their books as if they were glued there.
Celestia allowed herself a quiet sigh and tore her eyes away from the view. She'd spent more than enough time staring at distant mountains. It was high time she checked on her latest plan.
This one had to work. Someone had to get through to Twilight and Spike was her best hope. It would be good for him as well. The little dragon adored her and, well, Twilight wasn't the only one who needed friends. Twilight was at least a pony in a nation of ponies. Spike was a dragon. A sweet, kind, and friendly dragon, but still a dragon. There would always be a gap between him and Equestria that needed bridging, but Celestia was confident that it could be bridged. Would be bridged.
She kept her head high and favored passing servants with a genuine smile. She had a good feeling about this.
“Your Majesty?”
Celestia paused and looked over her shoulder at the approaching stallion.
“Ah, Final Draft. How did things go with Twilight?” Years of practice in the face of angry politicians kept her smile from faltering at the frown on Draft's face but only just.
“Yes… about that.”
“This is bad! This is really bad!”
Twilight paced back and forth across the back of Celestia's sitting room, just in front of the cold fireplace. Spike sat on the floor between her and the fireplace, half wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. His worried expression and nervous fiddling with the end of his tail was completely lost on Twilight. So far as she was concerned, she had bigger fritters to fry.
“Celestia could be back at any minute! The bathroom is a mess, you tracked ink all across the sitting room, and the study is a disaster area! What were you thinking!?”
“Uh-”
“Flooding the bathroom is bad enough, but what you did in her study!? I can't believe it! What could possibly justify that? Do you have any idea how bad this looks? Celestia ordered me to look after you and the moment I get here I find out that you've already wrecked the place! It looks like a tornado made of ink ran through it!”
“Twi-”
She paused her relentless pacing to fix Spike with a glare. “How did you get it on the ceiling? Just... how!?”
“I slipped.”
Twilight's glare narrowed to a laser point. “Slipped?"
“...On some ink?”
Blunt teeth clenched, ground and glinted pink in the light of the sparks crackling off her horn. A particularly loud sizzle snapped her out of her moment of fury by way of anxiety.
“Nononono, not right now!” She sat on her haunches so she could press her forehooves to her temples. “Step 1: Focus on your horn. Step 2: Prepare a spell.” She screwed her eyes shut and focused. Gradually the sparks and fizzles sputtered and sizzled into a full, if somewhat erratic, corona of raspberry magic. “Step 3: Hold… hold… and… haaa...” The light faded away to nothing. “… cancel.”
“Are you okay?”
Twilight opened her eyes and picked up her glare right where she'd left off, albeit with less tooth gnashing.
“Go to your basket.”
“But-”
“No buts! Go to your basket right now. I have to figure out how I'm going to clean all of this up before the Princess gets back, and I don't need you making any more trouble.”
“But-”
She sprang to her hooves. “I said GO! RIGHT! NOW! And for once in your life don't ruin anything!”
Spike shrank under her glare. For the longest time he just sat there, staring up at her with wide eyes. She opened her mouth to order him to get his tail moving but it proved unnecessary. The moment her lips parted, tears sprang up in the little dragon's eyes. He scrambled over the bulk of his towel and scampered towards the bedroom on all fours like she'd shot lightning at his feet.
Twilight sighed heavily. Now she could get started on fixing this--
“Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight wasn't a medical student so she couldn't describe what cardiac arrest felt like off the top of her head with any degree of accuracy.
Even so, it truly felt like her heart had just stopped.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Twilight met her mentor's eyes with no small amount of mortal terror. The princess was, logically speaking, always the same size. She didn't actually get taller when she was angry. She certainly didn't loom overhead in exactly the same way a smoldering volcano loomed over a blissfully unaware village. Her eyes didn't turn into portals straight to the depths of Tartarus, and her shadow, when cast over a filly, definitely didn't actually weigh several hundred pounds.
Every leaden fall of those gold shod hooves rang like a judge's gavel as Celestia stepped over the threshold to her chambers. Her abyssal glare took in the trail of inky foot prints, the catastrophic checklist plainly visible through her open study door, and the trembling filly standing stock still in front of the cold fireplace who was desperately trying to string a sentence together.
“I-- He-- Spike--” Twilight swallowed the driest saliva she'd ever felt and tried again. “Spike made a mess b-but I can clean it up! I just need-”
“A mess,” Celestia traced the line of prints from the study to the bedroom, “Yes, I can see that. How did this happen on your watch?”
“It didn't! I just got here a few minutes ago. I couldn't have--”
The princess turned her eyes back on her student. “I sent for you more than two hours ago.”
“I was, er, studying…?” Twilight tried a nervous smile but it withered before it ever had a chance to take root.
“Professor Draft? If you wouldn't mind stepping inside?”
Twilight's heart was now somewhere in the vicinity of her hooves. Final Draft took a few measured steps into the room, stopping a respectful distance away from its owner.
“Might I ask you to repeat what you told me on the way over?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I went to the library to retrieve Miss Sparkle at exactly a quarter to one, as per your instructions. However, when I attempted to bring her to your chambers she… objected.”
“Is that so?” she asked as though she were hearing this report for the first time.
“Er, yes, Your Majesty.”
“And what form did her objection take? In your own words, please.”
Final Draft glanced at Twilight rather uncomfortably, clearing his throat before asking, “In… my words, Princess?”
“Yes. The way you related them to me minutes ago. How did you put it…?"
“Miss Sparkle… erm, objected like…,” he paused and gave Twilight what was almost an apologetic look, “'a spoiled brat who has had their candy taken away'. Your Majesty.”
“So she threw a tantrum.”
“Yes, majesty.”
“For how long?”
“The better part of two hours.”
“How many guards did you say it took to corner her?”
“...Five.”
By this point the rest of Twilight's body had joined her heart down by her hooves. The disapproval coming off her mentor was almost visible.
“I do not know,” Celestia began with an ominously steady tone, “if I should be impressed or dismayed by that. You may go, Professor. And, please, if you wouldn't mind calling some of the cleaning staff? I believe this is a job suited to Mr. Clean's talent. Thank you.”
The sound of the door clicking shut might as well have been the clanging of a cell door.
“I am very disappointed in you, Twilight.”
Twilight tucked her tail against herself in her latest effort to become as small as possible. She couldn't remember the last time Celestia had looked so angry. Even after the portal incident she'd been more concerned than irritated.
“Not only did you ignore my request to look after Spike, not only did you persist in your research over my explicit objection, but you also made a scene in the library, wasted the time of Professor Draft and five of the Royal Guards, left Spike unattended, and then attempted to blame him for the results of your negligence and take your frustrations out on him.”
Twilight cringed at how that all sounded laid out like that. She'd felt justified at each step but hearing it delivered like a list of charges turned all those feelings on their heads. What had she been thinking?
“This behavior is...” The sound of sniffling caught the Princesses ear. A brief flicker of confusion darted across her face. Twilight was cowering but her eyes, while wide and terrified, were dry. A second sniffle drew her ears towards the bedroom.
“...Wait here. We are not finished discussing this, Twilight.” With that, Celestia turned away from her student.
Twilight nodded as much as she could with her head pressed to the floor.
Celestia had never been more disappointed in her student.
Twilight was anxious and willful, often to alarming degrees, but she'd never known her to be spiteful. But the tone she'd been taking with Spike was…
...Almost as disturbing as the tone she'd used to acknowledge her teacher's last command. Twilight needed to be disciplined, that much was clear, but 'mortal terror and boundless despair' were not what she'd been trying to instill. Perhaps she'd been too harsh. It was always hard to gauge just how firm she needed to be with Twilight. The filly was just so sensitive. Arguably more sensitive than the little hatchling she needed to attend to.
The bedroom door was wide open, doubtless flung that way by Twilight. Celestia stepped through and gently pushed it almost closed behind her with a brush of her magic.
“Spike?”
A stifled sob was the only answer she got. His basket was empty and there was no sign of disheveling on her bed itself. The only thing out of place (other than a few black footprints on the carpet) was the corner of a little blue blanket poking out from under the bed frame.
Of course.
She knelt down and ducked her head low to put herself at his level.
“Spike? You can come out. You're not in trouble.”
“You're mad,” the little dragon protested, voice thick with tears.
“I'm not mad at you, Spike.” A wisp of sunny yellow magic lifted the corner of her bedcovers. “Please come out.”
Spike was curled up with his blanket clutched so tightly in his little claws that he'd punched holes right through it. Tears sparkled on his chubby little cheeks and in his big, emerald eyes.
“Are you gonna yell?”
A twinge of regret fired off in Celestia's chest. She had overdone it.
“No, Spike. No more yelling today, I promise.”
Slowly Spike uncurled himself and crawled towards Celestia's waiting hoof. The moment he was within reach, she pulled him into a tender embrace between her forelegs.
“It's okay, Spike. You aren't in trouble.”
“Wh-what about T-Twilight?”
“She won't yell at you again, I--”
“No!” Spike pushed himself back from her chest and looked the surprised alicorn in the eye. “Is Twilight in trouble?”
“Twilight is… Yes, Spike. Twilight is in trouble.” There was no sense pretending otherwise. Spike was a child but he wasn't stupid. Lying wouldn't just be wrong, it'd be useless. “But--”
“Please don't send her away! It was all my fault!”
“Spike,” she said firmly but with great care to not raise her voice so much as a decibel, “you are not to blame for her behavior.”
“Yes I am! She's upset because I made a mess.”
“That doesn't excuse--”
She hesitated at the miserable look on Spike's face. He was convinced he'd been bad. He had made quite the mess, but it wasn't the first time. Why was this one weighing so heavily on him?
“Why don't you tell me what happened today?”
“...and that's when I thought that maybe a bath would make me warm. So I went to the bathroom and pushed over that staircase you got me so that I could get myself water, and I turned that red handle all the way over. It was way warmer than the baths you usually give me but the water kept going down the drain. I couldn't figure out how to stop it until I shoved one of those little towels in it. Water kept leaking out but it was slow so I could keep filling it back up when it got too low. That worked great because it leaked away faster than it got cold so I could keep it warm with new water all the time.”
Celestia didn't know whether to smile or sigh so she did both. That explained what she'd been told on the way over about the hot water running out.
“I musta fallen asleep because then Twilight was waking me up asking me what I was doing. She was… really upset. When she went to go answer the door I climbed down and tried to get a towel but I knocked a whole stack of them onto the floor when I slipped on the water. Twilight was real mad when she came back. She wrapped me up in a towel and carried me out into the other room to yell at me…”
Spike's voice hitched a little, like tears were starting to build up again. “She was really scared. She was angry but it was sorta scared angry. It's the angry she gets 'cause she's afraid she's let you down. You know, like the time with the portals?”
Princess and dragon both shivered a little at that memory. Celestia had decided right then and there that it would be a long time before she formally taught Twilight any portal spells. Not until she'd thoroughly mastered teleportation. By that point she'd have developed the requisite control that a portal, a far more complicated bit of magic, required. Celestia gave Spike an encouraging nuzzle to get him back on track.
“Then what happened?”
Spike swallowed hard. “She kept saying how bad things were and how much trouble she was in. Because she was supposed to watch me but I'd made a mess with all that water and my checklist and that made it look like she didn't do her best. Then you came back and told her that everything she was afraid of was true, and it was all her fault. But it was really all my fault because you asked me to be a big dragon and watch myself for a while this morning.” His frills drooped like overcooked spaghetti. “I messed up and now I'm gonna lose my best friend.”
Celestia shook her head. 'Everything she was afraid of' indeed. Spike was remarkably perceptive for such a young creature. He saw right through Twilight's tirade to the scared little filly inside. The same scared filly that tried scheme after scheme to catch her mentor's eye, each one more insane than the last. Oh, she'd tried to assign monitors to watch Twilight for signs of planning, but she'd stonewall them with silence until she was ready to unleash whatever she'd come up with.
Monitors, tutors, guards, servants, if a pony worked for her, either as Celestia the Princess or as Celestia the Headmare, Twilight saw them as a direct conduit back to her and she'd absolutely never show her teacher a project until it was perfect. She wouldn't let them into whatever thought process was leading her to pull these stunts so that they might be able to divert her or, failing that, at least warn somepony before all Tartarus broke loose.
This was why she'd held such hopes for her befriending Spike. It was a job he'd had the potential to perform admirably.
“Spike, is that why you were crying before? Were you crying because what you did made Twilight scared? And because you feel like you made her fears come true when she got in trouble?”
Spike twisted his tail in his claws and nodded miserably.
What was once a twinge when the conversation began became a full on lance. She hadn't been planning to end her mentoring of Twilight, but she had planned to keep her clear of Spike for a good long while, a plan that had just gone up in smoke. If she took Twilight away from him, Spike would assume the worst and blame himself, the repercussions of which could hurt him for a long time. It might make him reluctant to reach out to anypony else for fear of getting them in trouble, too. Or it could make him scared to take the initiative and think for himself for much the same reason.
Celestia's next question died in her throat when the clock on her mantelpiece chimed. A groan almost escaped her lips at what that meant. The Saddle-Arabians would be arriving in exactly one hour. Her meeting with them was months in the making and absolutely could not be delayed nor could she leave it to Cadance or the diplomats. She had to be there personally and had precious little time to waste.
“I think it's time for your nap.” Yellow magic shimmered to life around Spike and lifted him gently to his basket. He made an indistinct noise of protest but his eyelids drooped the moment he touched the cushion. The ability of a baby dragon to nod off regardless of the circumstances was something the thousand year old alicorn envied to no end.
“But whaddabout Twilight?” he mumbled.
“It'll be alright, Spike.” She bent her head low over the basket for an affectionate nuzzle. “Twilight will be okay.”
Soon enough Spike lost his battle against his blankets and fell asleep. Part of Celestia was loathe to leave him. That part of her wanted to just lay there on the floor next to his basket and watch over him all evening, Saddle-Arabian's be banished. She longed to drape her wing over the little dragon and hold him close so much it ached.
Were it so easy.
She stood and crept out of the room in a manner more befitting a sneaking filly than the monarch of Equestria, easing the door open and shut again with only the barest whisper of a sound. It was time for another gamble. She could only hope that Twilight wouldn't disappoint her again.
Twilight had stuck to her spot on the floor like she'd been glued down. At first it'd been fear of Celestia's anger that kept her pinned. That fear was far from gone but something new had trotted up and asked fear to scoot over so it could join in on the emotional dogpile.
Confusion.
Not confusion with Celestia's disappointment. In hindsight it made sense. She'd fought being pulled from her studies to watch Spike, which meant Spike was unsupervised and made a mess. Since she was supposed to be in charge of him that made it her fault. Why did hindsight always have to come after she messed up? Obviously it wouldn't be called hindsight if it looked forward, but foresight never seemed as useful. Maybe there was a spell to--
More important detail: 'Best friend'?
Twilight didn't have friends. Except Shining Armor and, well, did Cadance count? She didn't have friend friends. Friends that were just for being friends. Friends weren't on the curriculum, so she didn't have time for that sort of thing, surely Celestia knew that? After all, Celestia designed her curriculum so she must have.
Did Spike? That had been him talking, hadn't it? The door wasn't closed all the way so she could hear pretty much all of Celestia's and Spike's conversation well enough. It was probably eavesdropping but she'd been trying to hear what Spike was reporting about her. After all, this whole thing had obviously been a test, and Spike would have been in on it, ready to give a report to Celestia about how badly she'd failed and in what exact ways she'd failed so that Celestia could give her an accurate grade when she was sent back to magic kindergarten and forbidden from ever attending Celestia's school ever again.
But if that was all true then Spike was a lousy tester. He sounded more like an upset child than a cold, calculating judge of character. 'Best friend'?
That demanded the question: was it a test? Was it really a test meant to judge her worthiness to continue as Celestia's student or…
...or had Celestia just wanted her to foalsit Spike? Not as a student being tested, but as, well, a foalsitter. But Celestia was her teacher, surely it wasn't that simple? Cadance had told her that her time spent foalsitting was originally Celestia's idea. That could mean it was a part of her curriculum after all. So, maybe it had been meant to teach her something, but not to test something? Maybe--
The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut stopped her train of thought like a brick wall across the tracks. Celestia crossed the room calmly until she towered over Twilight once again.
“Stand up, Twilight.”
Her voice wasn't angry anymore but it also bore a striking resemblance to iron. Twilight snapped up to her hooves with terror fueled eagerness.
“You will wait here for the cleaning staff to arrive. When they do, tell them that you have been ordered to help them clean up the mess without magic. That includes levitation and remover potions. Start in the study so that you do not disturb Spike's nap. When he wakes up you are to give him the gems in the bowl on the cabinet at the end of my bed and see to any needs that he has. Otherwise, you are to remain here until I return from my meeting. We will discuss matters further then.”
“Yes, your highness,” Twilight answered quietly.
Celestia held her gaze for a moment until she broke it with a sigh.
“You've disappointed me today, Twilight, but you need to relax. I'm not dismissing you as my student.”
“You-- you're not?” The question was more squeak than words but it must have gotten the point across because Celestia answered.
“No, I'm not. We will still talk about this, but for now, at least, you can stop worrying about that.”
With that she turned away and made to leave. Twilight stayed rooted to the spot while she tried to process what she'd been told. Cleaning, no magic, nap, gems, wait, not expelled.
Not expelled?
“But… I failed.”
Celestia paused, her magic already holding the door open, and looked back at her student.
“This wasn't a test, Twilight. It was an opportunity. You have another one in your hooves right now. Don't let it slip away.”
The door swung shut behind her, leaving Twilight alone to wait and wonder what in Equestria her teacher had meant.
It was well into the evening before Twilight was allowed to rest.
It'd taken only five minutes for the cleaning staff to arrive in the form of a trio of unicorn stallions, lead by the tall, immaculately white-clad Mr. Clean. When she explained the situation Mr. Clean assessed what they were up against and delegated. He personally handed the bathroom, being the quickest and quietest and thus least likely to wake up Spike in the adjacent bedroom. Twilight was left with the other two stallions, Neat and Tidy, to scrub the ink off the door, walls, and, most of all, the carpeting.
Nothing made a unicorn filly appreciate basic levitation magic quite like spending two straight hours scrubbing with hoof and tooth. After the first fifteen minutes, Neat had taken pity and taught her how to hold and use the brushes without throwing out her neck on the first couple of stains. Even with his advice, her entire spine was sure to hate her forever after what she had put it through.
How did earth ponies and pegasi do it? They always made doing everything physically look so easy. She'd once seen an earth pony mare pick up a scrap of paper with her hoof. She just… plucked it right off the floor like she had glue on her sole. Yes, she knew how they did it in the most literal sense. All ponies had the basic, innate magic to move their manes and tails, as well as to apply a gripping force through their hooves, it was just stronger in the other tribes. Especially earth ponies.
She placed her forehooves on the edge of one of Celestia's sofas and hauled herself up off the floor with a pained groan. With her last ounce of strength she rolled onto her back and let her legs sprawl out in all directions. Earth ponies could keep their strength. She had no need for it because she was never going to move ever again. There were a number of spells that could make the couch move for her, and levitation could handle most day to day tasks. Not that she would actually be allowed to cast a spell to animate the couch enough for it to walk. Permission for that level of magic was years away.
Still, it couldn't hurt to dream. Everything else hurt, but dreaming was just fine.
The universe didn't give her leave to lay around for very long. A terrible sound rang out from the bedroom before she could even doze off fully. Half hollow thump, half cascading rocks, all too familiar. Twilight's eyes snapped open, her body snapped upright, and her mouth snapped out a name.
“Spike!”
Her hooves hit the carpet, her fatigue briefly forgotten in her haste to get to the bedroom. Raspberry magic seized the door handle and flung the door wide open.
Spike sat, draped in a blanket, right at the base of the table upon which a heaping bowl of gems had once sat. The bowl had been relocated to Spike's head and the gems it once contained lay scattered all around him. Slowly, sheepishly, he raised the edge of the bowl up enough to peek out from under it.
“Spike! What were you thinking?” She lifted the bowl off his head, set it on the floor in front of him and started gathering up the gems. “I look away for two seconds and--” She stuttered to a halt. Spike had curled in on himself, eyes wide and tail held tightly in his claws. It was just the way he'd looked before the Princess had--
Oh.
She cleared her throat and tried again, softly this time.
“Spike, you need to be more careful. You could have broken something or hurt yourself. Why didn't you ask for help?”
Spike turned his eyes to the floor and shrugged.
The last gem clinked into place atop the glittering mound. Without the light of Twilight's magic, the room was lit only by the light of a crescent moon and the street lamps far below the tower. It was later than she had thought. Spike might well have been awake for a while, hiding away in his basket to stay out from underhoof. Twilight's brow furrowed while she considered the implications of that possibility. It wasn't like Spike to stay out of the way when she was around. Usually she couldn't get away from him. He stuck to her like glue, like a--
Best friend.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Unfortunately that only turned it into a heavy weight in her stomach. She hadn't felt like this since that time she'd been practicing her magic, accidentally set a chair on fire, and had gotten Shining Armor in trouble for not watching her carefully enough. She'd felt so guilty, she'd avoided him for days because she couldn't look him in the eyes without feeling awful. It wasn't until Shining Armor had finally sat her down and talked to her that she finally got over it.
Was this how her brother had felt? Had he felt guilty, too? Had he felt like it was all his fault for not watching her? For not being there to help? Had he been afraid of upsetting their parents like she was afraid of upsetting the Princess?
So, what would Shining Armor do? What had he done when he'd been in her position?
Step one: Extend the olive branch.
“Are you cold? I was thinking I might make a fire. It's a little bit chilly in here.”
Spike twisted his tail a little harder. “I'm not supposed to make fire without a grownup.”
“I'll make the fire. We won't get in trouble that way. Come on.” She took a couple of steps towards the door and beckoned with a forehoof. “We can even heat up some of those gems if you like. I know you like hot topaz.”
Twilight could almost see the gears turning in the intricate clockwork mechanism that linked Spike's brain to Spike's stomach. They spun faster when her magic took hold of the bowl and hefted it to her side. He got to his feet, unable to resist the siren's call of dinner and the promise of fire. He was a growing dragon, after all. She smiled as he toddled his way across the room and followed her, albeit still not meeting her eyes, into the sitting room.
Check.
Spike didn't know which he liked more, the heat coming from the fire, or the taste of the gems he was stuffing in his mouth one after another. Why ponies didn't want to eat gems he'd never understand. Sure, grass was okay, and so were potatoes and tomatoes and pretty much everything else, but nothing compared to gems. Nothing else gave him that feeling of really biting into something. Vegetables just weren't the same.
Twilight had even put some in the fire for him just like she promised. Then she'd moved a little further back from the fire, flopped over onto her side, and started staring at the wall. He couldn't remember ever seeing her stare like that without a book being involved. It was like she was looking through the wall. Maybe she knew a spell for that? Or maybe she'd fallen asleep with her eyes open. Could ponies do that?
Or maybe she wasn't feeling good.
Spike crunched his last gem, a particularly tasty bit of citrine, and pushed his bowl away. He was tempted to take a few bites out of it, but that was yet another thing he wasn't supposed to do anymore. If Twilight wasn't feeling good then the last thing he wanted to do was make her upset again. But he couldn't just do nothing, could he?
“Uh, Twilight?”
She didn't move.
“Twilight?”
This time she moved but only because she was taking a breath. Breathing was a good sign, right? Spike's tail found its way back into his claws. Maybe she really was sick. What would Celestia do? He'd seen her pull a book from in front of Twilight's eyes when she didn't hear anyone trying to talk to her. He couldn't move the wall but maybe if he got in front of her she'd notice.
Twilight was only a few uncertain steps away and a quick lean over to put his eyes in line with hers. He dragged his blanket with him, hooked on the end of his tail so he could prop himself up with one claw and wave the other in front of Twilight's face.
She blinked.
“Wha…?” She blinked again and lifted her head a little off the carpet. “Spike? Is something wrong?”
“I was gonna ask you that. You're kinda staring at, uh, nothing.”
Her head dropped back to the floor. “I'm fine. Why don't you go… read a book or something?”
Spike straightened out of the awkward lean he was in before he could fall over. “Um… I can't really read yet.”
“Oh.”
“What!?”
Spike stumbled back and lost his footing, landing seated on the carpet when Twilight's eyes suddenly filled his vision. Her forehooves were on his shoulders, her nose pressed against his, and those big, lavender eyes bored right into his emerald ones.
“I can't read?” he said. Or, well, squeaked, really. “I know the letters but I can't--”
“Y-you can't-- You can't!?” Her mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments until, and he wasn't quite sure how it happened, he'd been pulled into a fuzzy hug.
“It's okay, Spike. It's not your fault. I can fix this. We're going to fix this for you.”
Then he was out of the hug and sitting on the floor again when she galloped off to the bedroom. He shook off his daze, hopped to his feet and jogged after her. He leaned carefully around the door frame to get a look at the bookshelf in the corner of Celestia's bedroom. The bottom shelf was full of small, brightly colored books that Celestia and Cadance would read to him sometimes. He wasn't supposed to look at the ones on the higher shelves. Twilight hadn't pulled any of them out, though. She was just standing there, still as a statue, staring at the shelf like there was a huge canyon between her and the books just hooves away.
“Except I'm not supposed to study,” she muttered. “I was expressly forbidden from studying. These aren't magic books but what if she doesn't want me to read books at all? After everything I've done wrong today how can I take that risk!? But Spike needs to learn to read! He can't not know how to read! I'll be helping him! I'm supposed to be helping him, right? See to his needs! But she didn't say to teach him to read.”
Muttering was left behind when she started to pace back and forth. She wasn't shouting exactly, but she wasn't using an 'indoor voice' either.
“What if she was going to teach him? What if I mess it up? But what if she wasn't going to teach him? No, no, that's silly. Of course the Princess was going to teach him. Except she's so busy she might not have time. She'd have Mom and Dad do it, wouldn't she? What if she's grateful that I did it instead? What if she's mad?”
“Er, Twilight?”
She stopped pacing. Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head to look at him, eyes wide and nervous. She stared at him for a good long minute before she blinked. Then it was like she... changed, somehow. Spike wasn't sure what it was, or what had happened to cause it, but he was sure that, from that moment on, she stood a little taller. That her eyes shone a little brighter, and that she smiled a little bit wider. A smile came to life on her face right then and there, fiercely determined and just as bright as the raspberry light that shone from her horn.
“Go get comfortable, Spike,” she said, voice now clear and steady. Her magic reached out and books flew from the bottom shelf at her bidding to swirl in the air above her head.
Celestia was more than a little tired during her walk back to her chambers.
She never had what could be called an “easy” day, but meeting with the Saddle-Arabian's was always a draining experience. They weren't difficult or antagonistic in any traditional sense. They certainly weren't aggressive or unreasonable or even particularly annoying. It was just that the meetings ran for so long and demanded such adherence to protocol. It wasn't like meeting with griffons. Griffons were rude, abrasive, difficult, and aggressive, but at least she didn't have to worry about using the “wrong” fork.
There were days she wished the capital was in a city founded by earth ponies or pegasi. Anything to get away from the unicorn nobility. Her one solace was that her younger companion felt much the same way.
“I don't understand why I had to be there,” Cadance said. “All I did was wait in the hallway for hours, bow, smile, and thank them for coming. That seems like all I ever do except smile and wave. At least when I was foalsitting I felt like I was helping somepony. What did I even do today?”
Celestia smiled down at the much younger alicorn.
“By being there, you reinforced their impression that we're taking them seriously. In their minds, you are there to immediately speak with me and be told what you need to know in order to see to their needs. They trust me to hear everything and to delegate information appropriately on a need-to-know basis.”
Cadance furrowed her brow. “But… you haven't told me anything.”
“With your current duties being what they are, you don't 'need' to know anything about our discussions. They do not know that, of course. They only know that you are a princess and thus a pony of great importance.”
“So, I was there as a prop.”
Celestia's smile widened a little. “You would be surprised how much of being a princess, or any form of official for that matter, revolves around appearances. Poise, grooming, and knowing when to smile can take you far.”
Cadance frowned and ruffled her wings. “I just wish I could actually help somepony.”
Celestia reached out her own wing to rest gently across Cadance's back.
“All in good time. I know you are frustrated but you are a princess of Equestria. You'll play your part.”
A somewhat weak smile finally broke out on the young princess's face. “Well, it's not a complete loss. At least I get to see Twilight this weekend. It feels like forever since I spent any time with her.”
Celestia's own smile faded slightly at the reminder of her student. Leaving her with Spike again had been a gamble, one that had been on her mind for much of the evening. Had Twilight learned from her mistakes? Had Spike been bold enough to reach out again? What was she going to find when she opened the door? Two new friends or two upset children? The possibilities flitted past her mind's eye as they rounded the corner into the final stretch of hallway leading to her chambers.
“She's been very engrossed in her studies. You know how... diligent she can be.”
“I heard something about that. Five guards?”
“She held them at bay for nearly two hours. Final Draft didn't have time to fill me in on all the details.”
“One of the guards I spoke to mentioned something about a barrier spell. She must have picked that up from Shining Armor.”
The change in her companion's tone when she mentioned Shining Armor didn't go unnoticed by Celestia. If that colt didn't make an open move soon she was seriously considering ordering him to ask Cadance out officially. Life was too short to waste time, and too long to not cultivate some joy to fill it. Royalty or not, there was no way she was going to let Cadance fall into some stuffy, political marriage.
Not on her watch.
Cadance, made eager by the chance to do something after waiting for hours on end for a meeting she wasn't even in, trotted ahead of her and pushed open the door.
“Hm, it's quiet,” she whispered when Celestia caught up. "I wonder if they dozed off?”
Celestia's smile slipped fully into a frown when she stepped over the threshold. Quiet was not encouraging. She'd been hoping for talking or laughter or… something. Anything to indicate that the two children had found some common ground to bond on.
The place was clean and smelled faintly of soap. The distinctive twang of remover potion was absent, so her instructions had been followed, at least. She cast a critical eye over the doors to her study and bedroom, both of which were ajar. No lights were on in either of them, and the sitting room was rather dimly lit by only a single lamp and the flickering of a dying fire. She was about to call out for Twilight when she heard a stifled squeal.
Cadance had already reached the center of the room, right behind the long lounge that sat facing the fireplace. She was trembling on three hooves with the other pressed to her muzzle, looking over the back of the lounge to something on the floor.
“Cadan-?”
The younger princess frantically shushed her and beckoned her over.
“You have to see this!” she whispered.
Celestia crossed the room as quickly as she could without making a sound. In the dim light she didn't see what had Cadance so excited at first. A cushion from the sofa had found its way onto the floor, something that happened regularly since Spike had hatched. It was oddly lumpy, as though--
For a moment Celestia's jaw went slack in a most undignified manner.
The cushion was surrounded by books. Small, brightly colored books from the bottom shelf of her bookcase. The very same books that she read to Spike every night before she tucked him in. The cushion itself was draped with a blue blanket made lumpy by what was beneath it.
A little, purple unicorn…
…and an even littler purple dragon.
The two of them lay together on the same cushion with a book splayed out, half read and forgotten, in front of them. They were cuddled closely together, Spike tucked under one of Twilight's forelegs by the looks of it, and both fast asleep.
“That is the most adorable thing I've ever seen,” Cadance whispered.
Celestia could only nod. She didn't trust herself to speak. The two princesses stood there, looking down at the sleeping pair for several long minutes. Once again she found herself struck by the urge to lay down beside them. To reach out her wing to tuck the pair of them safely to her side and just… hold them there. She could do it. They were right there. It'd only take a moment and she could have them beside her. Cadance wouldn't say anything, wouldn't judge her for it. She'd understand, wouldn't she? With her gift she would surely understand the feelings swelling in her heart, begging her to--
She turned away and started towards the door. Cadance made to follow but hesitated before tearing her eyes away from the sight that'd so captivated her.
“Should we wake them?”
“No.” Celestia started at the hoarseness of her own voice. She gently cleared her throat and tried again. “They'll be fine. The enchantments on the fireplace will contain…” She shut her eyes to resist the longing to look back. “They'll be fine. Come.”
She lead the way back to the hallway and closed the door behind them.
“Will you join me for a late night snack, my dear Cadance? I believe there are a few leftover confections on hoof in the kitchens.”
Cadance looked up at her elder with eyes full of concern. “Are you alright? You seem troubled.”
Celestia took a long, slow breath. Her gaze wandered up above Cadance's head, towards the tall, narrow window at the far end of the hall through which the moon could be seen, bathing the palace in its pale light. Light that had never seemed quite as bright ever since that dark silhouette had bloomed across its surface so many years ago.
“I...” She swallowed and set her jaw against the tremor that threatened her voice. “I feel that I could use some company tonight if you wouldn't mind staying for a while. I'm feeling… I'm feeling very alone right now.”
Cadance didn't answer, not with words. Her wing reached up, straining to rest across Celestia's withers as the taller alicorn had done for her so many times. Celestia sagged slightly as though the pink and purple feathers weighed on her like a thousand pounds of bricks. Cadance stepped closer, letting Celestia lean on her ever so slightly as the two princesses walked down the hallway together.
It was a testament to a millennium of practiced restraint that she hardly wept at all.
