Twilight woke with a gasp. She peered into the darkness, seeking proof that the terror that that lay behind her eyes wasn't real. Sweat made her feel clammy and matted all over, but still she waited for the familiar shapes of her bedroom to resolve, proving that she was awake, locking her to the rational world.
It did not. There was no steady glow of the moon shining through the two-story window of her room, spilling soft light over her favorite bedroom reading spot. No familiar shadows of her bedposts creeping across the massive bookshelf on the far wall, moving over the spines of the books it held. No vaulted ceilings adorned with artful depictions of sunrises, hanging with a simple lamp, extinguished for the night. No rigid pattern of stone bricks made up the walls that never seemed to get cold, no matter what season it was.
Here the ceiling was lower, much too close. The moonlight came in from a small, round window just above her. Her bed was tiny now, just big enough to rest in, rather than large enough to build forts complete with towers. Books sat in recesses in the walls, which were wood now, instead of stone, and one wall was missing completely. Her room was not a room, but more of a loft that opened onto a common area, with more books, a fire place, a writing desk. It was cozy, certainly, and seemed like a nice place to visit, but this wasn't her room! Twilight felt her heart speeding up again. This wasn't home! This was a strange place, someplace she had no memory of, had never even imagined... which meant that she was still asleep! Still caught in the tangle of fear and panic, trying to get away from what was surely all her terrors coming true at once! She had to wake up, she had to do something –
Twilight caught herself. This was a library. Ponyville's library, her new residence. She'd been living here two weeks now and had just finished her post-unpacking organization that evening. Breathing deeply, she collected herself, going through her memories and tried to make herself understand that this was now a familiar place. It was a huge adjustment, certainly; she'd spent many years in the dorm at the school, and more years in her parent's house before that. They were much more similar to each other than the library was to either of them. All buildings in Canterlot were made of stone and to live in a house made of wood seemed bizarre. Wood reflected sound differently than stone, giving even familiar noises a strange timbre. Plus, it smelled weird.
She sat up in bed. The terror and panic of her awful dream were still whispering at the edges of her mind and she was much too wound up to try to get back to sleep. With a soft gleam of magic, she pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. Maybe leaving her bedroo- loft for a while would help. She moved softly past Spike, who lay sprawled in his basket, snoring gently. Lucky dragon. He got to keep his bed when they moved. He didn't have to sleep on strange new furniture.
Moments later, Twilight came downstairs into the kitchen. The fireflies in the lantern came awake with a nudge, filling the kitchen with a soft glow. She glanced out the window at the houses in town, bathed in moonlight and darkness. It was certainly much quieter here than in Canterlot. In the city, coffee shops and pubs stayed open into the small hours in the morning, catering to ponies working the night shifts or simply to those who preferred the night to the day. Twilight felt the corner of her mouth twitch up a bit at that thought. Maybe Princess Luna would make friends with a pony who preferred to stay out all night and sleep during the day. She would probably like that, and would probably cherish such a friend who appreciated the night, according to what Twilight had learned from the story.
What a strange concept, Twilight mused, that an old prophecy was now as plain a fact as any published in an encyclopedia. Nightmare Moon, the old mare's tale, true after all! Nightmare Moon, who returned to her true form as Luna, the ancient ruler of the night. The younger sister of Princess Celestia, the ancient ruler of the day! Both ponies were older than she could have ever guessed! It was enough to make her head spin.
Thinking of her teacher made Twilight realize just how far away she was now. Princess Celestia was no longer a few rooms away, easily accessible for any little question she might have had. Now it was half a day's train ride across the country if she wanted to see her teacher. There would be no more spontaneous chats over tea, no more friendly invitations to lunch after a particularly frustrating lesson. And even though it had been years since she'd done so, now there was no large white wing under which a small purple filly could curl and shiver, believing herself to be protected from the bad dream which had awoken her. Everything had changed, so fast, that she found herself wanting to run and hide and wait until it was over. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes and she found herself wishing she was back in her old room, in her old dorm, with her parents or with Princess Celestia; it didn't matter. Her heart thudded painfully, aching for the familiar, and soon tears were running down her cheeks.
“Twilight?” called a small voice. “What's wrong?”
She jumped, scrubbing at her face with a hoof. Spike walked into the kitchen, claws clicking across the tile floor.
“Nothing," she said. "I'll be okay.”
There came the scrape of a chair next to her and a rustle of cloth as Spike passed her a handkerchief. She took it with a flicker of magic.
“It's not nothing if it made you cry,” he said as she dried her face and blew her nose.
She let out a sigh she didn't realize she was holding. Talking about the dream might help. It had in the past, when she spoke to the princess still curled up underneath that great wing, but back then she believed (and some part of her still did) that Princess Celestia was bigger and stronger than anything that scared her. That same small part didn't think Spike could chase away her fears. She began to speak anyway.
“I had a nightmare,” she said. “I dreamed I was all alone in the tower, with Nightmare Moon, but my friends never came. Then the world went dark and it was all my fault and I was just so alone and scared and there was nothing I could do.”
Even now, thinking about it brought the terror back to mind and she couldn't help but shudder. Spike ran his hand through her mane and down her neck, offering what comfort he could.
“I came down here to get away from it,” she said. “But I just got to thinking about everything – moving out here and all – and I realized how different everything is going to be from now on.”
She glanced out the window at the moon. The moon, which for her whole life until two weeks ago, had borne the image of the Mare in the Moon, shone blank and white over the world.
“No kidding,” said Spike, and she knew he was staring at it too. He had remarked a few times on it and how, as he said, awesome it was that she could do something that made such a huge difference. But she didn't feel awesome, or powerful or victorious or any of the other words he'd used to describe it whenever she thought about it – she only felt small and strange at having such an effect.
His fingers slid thought her mane again and the familiar action calmed her. After a moment, he sighed.
“So you're homesick too, huh?”
She glanced back at him. His eyes were clear, even in the dark, but she could see that same ache from her heart reflected in his face. But there was compassion there too, and tenderness.
“Yeah," she said. "I knew it was going to be a big change, but I don't think I understood just how big. I have friends, Spike! For the first time in my life! There's so much to learn and understand now and I'm excited, but I think I just realized what it cost me.”
Tears threatened again and Twilight rested her chin on the table, eyes squeezed shut. A moment passed and then she felt Spike stroking her mane again, tucking it behind her ear.
“You've still got me, Twilight. That's not gonna change.”
And just like that, the fear and sadness weighing her down faded to background noise, leaving only lightness and affection in its wake. She wasn't alone, she never had been. Spike was such a constant in her life that she found herself thinking of him as another part of herself, rather than his own person. She took him for granted far too often, she realized, and it was moments like this that reminded her why she needed him.
She swept him off the table and into her arms, cuddling him close to her. Her chin rested on top of his head, his spines off to the side. He nuzzled against her chest, fitting comfortably against her in the way he'd learned long, long ago, when she was a filly barely strong enough to pick him up and he a fingerling too young to talk. They stayed like that for a long time, he listening to her heart beating in her chest, she feeling the rhythm of his breathing.
“I don't say this enough,” she mumbled, “but I love you, Spike. So, so much.”
He sighed happily against her and when he spoke, it was into her chest.
“I love you, too, Twilight. And you can always share my basket if you have nightmares.”
She giggled a little, feeling it go through him. He giggled back and she felt it go through her the same way.
“I don't think I'd fit in your basket, but that's sweet of you to offer.”
“Then I could get in bed with you, if you wake me up.”
She stroked his head with her chin, nuzzling him. “I couldn't wake you up just because I had a nightmare. Besides, isn't the pony who had the nightmare supposed to get in bed with the one who makes them feel safe? That is how it's supposed to go, isn't it?”
“Well, in that case, can I get into bed with you? I had a bad dream too.”
The memory of her dream came back to her and she found her heart breaking a little as she realized he must have felt as terrified and as alone as she did. She pulled him back so she could look into his eyes. “Of course you can! You always can. You haven't been awake long, have you?”
“Just before you got up. I was trying to fall back asleep and I heard you go downstairs. I didn't want to wake you up because I knew you were so tired, but once you were awake-”
The rest of his comment was lost in a huge yawn and stretching of all his limbs. Twilight found herself yawning too, blinking against sudden drowsiness.
“Let's go back to bed,” she said. “We've got work to do in the morning and I have a feeling we'll be getting a late start.”
With another flicker of magic, she set him on her back and headed back upstairs. The moon out the window hung low over the horizon as she trotted up into the loft. Holding Spike in a cloud of magic, she rearranged her blankets from the tangle she'd made of them trying to escape her nightmare. He watched, unconcerned, while she worked below him. He'd mentioned on a few occasions that being held like this in her magic felt completely safe. He could easily have fallen asleep there, and had done so many times in the past, but this time, he held himself awake. Twilight was arranging things to make it a little more special. She might not realize she was doing it, but there was just something in her movements that gave it away.
A moment later and she laid down on the small bed, covers not quite pulled up yet.Her new bed was quite a bit smaller than her old one back in Canterlot and to fit both of them in comfortably would take a little maneuvering. She shuffled into place and then lowered Spike on the mattress next to her. With a happy sigh, he turned over and nuzzled back up to her chest, drawing in close until she could feel his breath ruffling the hairs on her coat. One last flicker of magic, and she drew the covers over top of them both.
For a moment, she imagined she was Princess Celestia, gently covering a small, sleepy form with one large wing. To be the protector was to be responsible for chasing away anything that might threaten that whom she protected, even if the threat came from within the mind. And in that moment, Twilight knew why the princess always had that same maternal smile on her face when she woke up.
“G'night, Twilight,” murmured Spike, sleep slurring his words together.
“Goodnight, Spike,” she whispered back. She kissed him tenderly on the top of his head, then did it again, seeing no reason not too. He drew even closer to her, nuzzling her chest as he did. She nuzzled him back, running her nose along the ridge of his face until she fell asleep.
Author's Note
In memory of the Golden Oaks Library. We'll never forget you.
She was filthy, she knew. Intolerably unclean. Mud and grape juice had stained her hooves from a pristine white to a horrid shade of purple-brown.
Mud. Such awful, dirty stuff. It lay caked in her mane as well, gluing straw and hay between the normally shimmering violet tresses she spent so much time on. It was ground into her her coat, it was spattered across her face. She was certain at least one or two flecks had made their way into her left ear. And the smell! Simply dreadful, and made all the worse by all the sweat that matted her coat. With all the running and shoving and jumping she'd done today, she was certain she'd sweat more in these last few hours than she had in her entire life. She could even smell it on herself now. Ugh, how awful!
And the pain. She ached all over; from the bottom of her hooves right to the top of her horn. It seemed as though she'd pulled every muscle she had, and a few she'd never been aware of. Here and there, scrapes appeared on her sides, where obstacles had been sharper than her coat could deflect, marking her coat with small lines of red. She looked like some kind of uncivilized barbarian. It was beyond belief. A fashionista, a society pony of her caliber, covered in mud and battle scars? Ridiculous! Unthinkable! Unbearably itchy, as well. She fought the urge to scratch.
To distract herself, she daydreamed of the spa. In her mind's eye, she saw herself stepping past the elegant splash screen and into the hot tub, luxuriating in the imagined feeling the hot water soaking away all of this filth. Certainly it would sting at first, but the relaxing heat would overcome her, soothing her abused muscles. Then, after soaking every last grain of dirt from her coat and mane she would ask for the massage, perhaps vigorously given by pony hooves, or perhaps by hot stones. Or even both! Then of course came the beauty treatments – facial cream, hoof polishing, a coat scrub, shampoo, conditioner and a thorough brushing for the mane and the tail, a session in the mud bath-
Actually, she might skip the mud bath. She'd had quite enough of it for the time being.
But the rest, oh the rest! The care, the pampering, the promise that all this filth and soreness would soon disappear, washed away with vanilla-scented bubble bath and vanishing in a cloud of steam - all of it waited for her at the spa. She couldn't wait! She had to get there, had to scrub every inch of herself clean of this Celestia-forsaken mud pit and she had to leave immediately, lest this stains and mud become permanent!
Rarity opened her eyes to the light of sunset. Sweet Apple Acres was empty of all the other ponies who'd joined in the Sisterhooves Social, save the two who already lived there. A pang of guilt struck her. She should have at least helped clean up a little before falling asleep in this hammock. A glance around told her there was little left to do, and if Applejack had genuinely needed her help, she would have been too happy to interrupt Rarity's much-needed nap to watch her tromp through even more mud and muck.
Well, then, if nothing else was pressing for her, it was time she fulfilled that promise she'd made with herself before the whole affair had started. Time to move into the spa and only reappear when her old self was reborn. She began sit up (why had she chosen to sleep on her back? It always left her mane in an awful state), working hard to keep the hammock from toppling over –
And paused.
Sweetie Belle lay with her in the hammock, sprawled across her sister's belly, breathing softly. She was just as muddy as Rarity, her mane and tail just as hopelessly tangled, and almost certainly just as exhausted. It pained Rarity a little to see her hair in such a state; Sweetie worked hard to make herself as pretty as her big sister. But it was the look on her face that kept Rarity from moving. Even in her sleep, Sweetie Belle was smiling with pure joy and contentment. How had she never seen that expression before? It was adorable.
It was because she took her little sister for granted, Rarity realized, with no small amount of guilt. Before today, she only ever saw the filly as somepony who simply followed her around, getting in the way at the best of times and causing damage worth a sackful of bits and a tarnished reputation at worst. But when Sweetie Belle rejected her, Rarity's mind had begun spinning projections of the future. There would be no more late winter nights, staying up and sipping hot cocoa in front of the fire and giggling at schoolfilly secrets, like who had a crush on who. No more concerned little voice asking, "Why are you crying?" whenever circumstances drove her to melodramatic tears on her fainting couch. She just couldn't stand to see her big sister cry and came running every time she heard her sobbing.
But worst of all was the possibility that there would be no more Sweetie Belle telling her how beautiful her dresses were. Rarity poured her heart and soul into her creations and it showed; every one of her clients knew that. But they did not know how much time she spent agonizing over designs, researching past trends and cultural influences to get the piece just right. They would certainly never know how many times she simply wanted to give up completely and switch careers. On those days, at the very moment she was seriously considering ripping the dress to shreds, screaming all the while, Sweetie Belle would walk in and squeal with delight.
"It's so pretty, Rarity! Who's it for? Can I try it on? They're gonna love it! You always make the best dresses out of anypony in Equestria!"
It never failed to lift her spirits. Sweetie Belle believed in her completely and it was for her that Rarity found the strength to try again. The possibility, however remote, of losing her cheerleader made her realize just how much she loved Sweetie Belle and how awfully she'd been treating the filly. That realization had led her to asking for Applejack's help and, subsequently, to the two of them lying in the hammock, sore and filthy.
And it had been worth it. Their relationship had turned over a new leaf, had rekindled their love for each other. After all, only love could have made her swim through a pit of mud, dodge obstacles on a racetrack, gulp down an entire pie in a single, un-ladylike swallow, willingly enter a chicken coop and generally act like some kind of hooligan just to impress a filly. It had worked, as she'd hoped, and now here they lay, just happy to be with each other.
The spa could wait. Rarity ran a hoof over Sweetie Belle's face and the filly smiled in her sleep. She laid back in the hammock and watched the stars appear.
