Desire and Deep Water

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You gawk at the huge, sophisticated and particularly glittery Get Well Soon card on the shelf, among several other colourful cards near Twilight’s bed. For the tenth time, you read the sender’s signature, and for the tenth time, you fail to believe it.

“We’re not kidding,” yawns Spike, “It’s totally legit; Twi’s her star student and everything.”

“But… but…” you look between your small, trivial and substantially un-glittery card, and the glorious polar-opposite placed next to it on the shelf, “The princess of Equestria? Celestia herself sent you this? In her own horn-writing?”

Twilight, sitting up comfortably in her bed, smiles with a noise that could possibly be giggling. She doesn’t say much else, however. Perhaps it still hurts to talk. On the bright side, she’s not shivering any more. Speaking of which…

“The nurse said you’d get over the worst of the hypothermia in a few days, right?”

She nods, then looks at Spike to be her vocals. “But she still has to lay off the magic for a few weeks.” he mumbles. It’s now that you notice the bags forming under his green, vertical-slit eyes.

“And what about you, little guy? You look wrecked.”

He shakes his head in an attempt to shake himself awake. “Sorry,” he says, as if he’s done something wrong, “I’m Twilight’s number-one assistant. It used to almost be a full-time thing helping her, and now that she’s stuck in bed and without magic, it really is full-time. Owloysius helps when he can, but he sleeps during the day, and Twilight’s friends can’t be here all the time either. They’ve all got lives too, you know what I mean?”

Two questions crop up in your mind. The first one is ‘Who the heck is Owloysius?’ and the second one is ‘Why can’t I help out?’. You opt to ask the second question out loud.

The bed-ridden pony shakes her head, sinking into her bedcovers slightly - perhaps she’s embarrassed at the thought of resorting to the help of strangers - and beckons her assistant over to her bedside. She whispers something into his ear, which he promptly recites in a monotone manner;

“Twilight says ‘You don’t need to worry about little old me, I’m sure you’ve got a pretty full schedule or something that you need to do.’”

“Yes, I do,” you respond, “And most of my schedule involves cleaning and looking after the lake, which I can’t do while it’s frozen over. I might as well help out here while I wait for it to melt.”

Both Spike and Twilight exchange uneasy looks, as if to say ‘Should we tell him?’. A beat later, and the unicorn nods, letting Spike step forward.

“It’s, uh… not gonna be melting any time soon pal. Sorry.” the dragon shrugs, “Twilight weaved in a few sub-spells while she was freezing it over; resistance to sunlight and natural heat, mostly. She did that so it wouldn‘t melt if we were to go ice-skating on it.”

“What?” You can’t believe your luck; of all of the times for your lake to get frozen over without your permission, it just so happens to be with ice that never melts. “How do we get rid of it?”

“The only way to melt it is through magic, notably from the one who cast the spell in the first place.” Spike dutifully repeats what the poorly Twilight whispers to him, “Almost everything else is gonna be useless.”

“But what about fire?” you retort at the dragon, “I saw you melt the ice with your own breath!”

“My fire-breath is bright green and can send letters to high-ranking members of royalty. I’m pretty sure that counts as magic.” He gives you a weary look, as if he‘s tired of explaining something like that. “I doubt I’d be able to thaw a whole lake with it though; I could just barely melt the ice patch that Twilight was stuck under.”

“So the only way to have my lake back is for Twilight to use a thawing spell?” you ask. The two librarians nod. “But she can’t cast any magic until she’s fully recovered from her hypo-therma-thingie?”

Twilight tries to correct you out loud, but all she manages is a raspy cough. Instead, she nods again to confirm what you said.

“In that case, Spike, get some rest. I’ll take over from here.”

“Huh? Wha?” Spike’s attention returns slightly by the mention of his name; he'd dozed off for a moment. Twilight leans up in her bed, as if wondering what you meant by that.

“As the janit- uh, warden of Ponyville’s lake, I should be doing everything I can to make sure it’s clean, safe, and ultimately… not frozen over,” you explain to them, “However, Twilight’s the only pony who can help me with that, and she can’t cast magic until she’s recovered.”

You pause, letting the information sink in, “Which means,” you continue, “the faster you recover, the sooner I get my lake back. So it’s in my best interest to help you get better, Twilight. I can‘t really do much else otherwise. Besides, your dragon friend looks exhausted.”

After an uncomfortable silence, the two library-dwellers huddle together and exchange a few quick whispers. Finally, Spike turns back to you.

“Come back tomorrow evening or something, if you’re really that eager to help. Twilight and I could sort out a list of things you could do to help, okay?”

You leave a few minutes later, feeling a little less guilty for nearly drowning a mostly-innocent mare yesterday. Twilight seems to be taking her recovery one day at a time, so offering to ease the stress is the least you could do. Perhaps you’ll actually be able to get some restful sleep tonight, without your conscience gnawing at you.

*******

No such luck. Your thoughts that night are plagued with a grim recital of what happened when you first met. When she broke free from the bitter, watery coffin with the help of you and the dragon. When she fell to the freezing ground, twitching, mumbling to herself in disorientation. The biting cold that she must have felt as the faintest breeze chilled her to the bone.

With yet another toss and turn, you make it clear to yourself; you aren’t just helping her get better so you can have your lake back. You’re helping her because it’s the only thing to douse your guilt.

*******

You had spent most of the day organising the scrap in your home, deciding what to keep and what to take to an actual scrap yard, since you couldn’t really do your usual daily duties at the lake. When you arrive at the library that evening, you’re met with a friendly greeting from Spike, who leads you up to Twilight’s room.

A pile of books are stacked by her bed, no doubt there to help Twilight pass the time while bedridden. She looks up from reading one such book when you walk in, welcoming you back with a warm smile as if to ask how your day was. You voice the question out loud to her first.

“She’s doing great so far,” Spike answers on her behalf, “She was struggling with soup yesterday, but she didn’t have any issues this morning, so she’s totally recovering. Pinkie Pie came over - you might know her, she probably knows you - and discussed plans for a ‘Get Well Soon party’. Of course, we’re kinda more interested in a ‘Fully Recovered party’, so Pinkie’s gonna be holding it once Twilight’s better. Then Fluttershy visited for a while…”

As Spike recounts the past day, you’re relieved to know that she has many friends and visitors during the day. That’s good; at least she’s not going to go crazy with boredom any time soon. Plus, her books give her plenty to amuse herself with in the meantime.

After a good while of casually chatting between the three of you (you, Spike and Twilight-through-Spike) she produces a small roll of parchment and passes it to you. Of course, the checklist of things you could do to help. You asked for it yesterday, and you got it.

Glancing through the list, you find that they’re pretty basic tasks; pick up some shopping here, help Spike sort books over there, drop such-and-such a book off at somepony’s house, and so on. To put it simply, you’re just taking some of the weight off the dragon’s shoulders, letting him focus on helping Twilight herself.

Fine by you.