Chapters Too Intelligent to be Loved
Initial Observations
“All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.”
That was her fear. It annoyed her more than anything else. She laughed at it initially. It just wasn’t… rational. To be afraid of such a silly thing as not finding somepony to love and be loved by was absurd. She had five best friends. She was the top student of the Princess. How could she possibly feel alone at all if Spike and Owlowiscious were in this very library at this very moment? No, she couldn’t be lonely. It was impossible. Everypony liked her.
But no pony loved her. That is what silenced the laughter. Finally, she started to see truth in the whisperings of her subconscious.
Normally, it didn’t bother her. She had her studies to occupy her time, and there were always her friends and Spike. But deep down something was missing, something that no amount of best friends, books, puzzles or reason could fill. Some nights the library would be so dark and quiet and she longed for that something. The books, normally her constant companion, would loom up tall and menacing. Shadows would reach out twisting her comfortable cozy world into a vacant parody. Intellect's burning light repelled this darkness no more than the flickering candles did. Her awards, trophies, and commendations served only to mock her with their hollow emptiness. Silently in their rows they stood, each as useless as the last. Every candle she lit seemed only to create more shadows.
Spike was getting too old to need comforting, so she now had no one to curl up by her side. More and more these days, she felt alone. While bathed in sunlight and surrounded by friends, or immersed in her studies, she could ignore it. Put on a brave face and drive down the whispers. However, it was getting harder. The sky outside rolled with heavy dark clouds concealing the stars’ twinkling.
Despite her exhaustion, her mind would simply not shut down. She curled deeper into the blankets. Reason, normally the bedrock on which her life was based, only exacerbated the problem. It's just that I haven’t met the right pony. There is plenty of time. These weak rationalizations were destroyed by the power of her analytical mind. How will I know the “right pony?” Do I even know how to judge? What if I wait and wait and wait before one day waking up an old mare completely alone? This was getting crazy, she told herself, slamming the pillow over her muzzle. This isn’t a problem! Go to sleep! Her orders fell on deaf ears. All my friends have somepony. I've not even kissed anypony; statistically that puts me in the bottom 1.7%. And that number will only keep falling.
It was going to be a long night. After a glance at the clock, she knew sleep was out of the question. Again. She rose and busied herself with lighting far more candles than she needed.
Wandering around the room, she searched for something, anything, to take her mind off how dark this room was. Not even her favorite book, The Descent of Ponies, could distract her for long. Her eyes kept moving over the page, not taking in a word of its meaning. Mechanically she would turn the page and expose a new sheet whose contents had no more hope of being read than did the previous ones. The flickering light played off the mirror, and for some reason it was the most interesting thing in the world. It was relaxing to gaze into its depths. Beyond that mirror lay a comfortable bedroom, well-lit, and inviting. Beyond that mirror was a lavender pony. She gazed rapt at that pony, judging, analyzing, and thinking. The other pony stared back.
She wasn’t ugly, or at least she didn't think so. She liked to think she was reasonably attractive. True, there was no way she was as stunning as Rarity. Maybe if she just touched up her mane a bit, a few highlights, maybe give it a curl? No. The fact was she didn’t want a colt or anypony for that matter to like her just for her looks. But what if that’s the key?
It seemed that all of the mares her age were finding somepony. All her friends seemed to have somepony fawning over them. Fluttershy had a stallion turn up every couple of weeks looking for her. That brought a smile to her worried face, the way Fluttershy squeaked out an excuse and then turned brick red. And practically any colt would give their left hoof to party with Pinkie Pie. For Rarity they may have given both their lefts and maybe a right. She was careful not to inquire into Rainbow Dash and Applejack’s relationship, if there was in fact a relationship there. Everypony found love. Everypony except me.
She had colts turn up occasionally asking for books or advice. Plenty were friends. Caramel and Braeburn both were her friends. Not close friends, granted. But they liked her. Didn't they? None showed the same interest as they did in Rarity or Pinkie, that was true. Why?
What do colts like? The question was simple, but she could find no answer. What do I have? A wry smile. Magic and smarts. That was clearly obvious; everypony knew she was obsessed with one thing: studying magic. “Is that it? Does everypony think I am only interested in books and nothing more…? Hormonal? " That brought a blush.
No pony would believe the studious Twilight Sparkle could have such… such deviant thoughts. Rainbow Dash, absolutely, but not the scholarly mind of the Princess’s top student. Everypony knew she was… Androgynous?
No pony is confused over my gender! It's plainly obvious even to the most oblivious pony that I a mare! Indignation flared up, but when it receded the whisperings were ready.
“Physically perhaps. If physically nothing is wrong why have I not found somepony?!”
I will find somepony. They just had to be the right pony. It's only a matter of time. It will happen. Sheer force of will hardened her words, driving them home.
And yet despite her reassurances, the quiet doubt crept in. What if there is no one? Or worse still, what if I've already met him? How can I tell? These questions churned in her head, robbing her confidence and sapping her assurance that all would turn out for the best. Over and over she answered them, but the more thought she put into it, the more questions were raised. How, I mean how, would I go about starting a relationship? Hi, nice to meet you. I am Twilight Sparkle, would you be my coltfriend? Wonderful. Thanks.
It couldn’t be that hard. Everypony could do it. She could understand the complex interactions of isomagical forces in relation to magnetic resonance fields, but THIS of all things escaped her grasp.
A knock on the door awoke her from her reverie. A glance at the sky told her that sleep had not visited her this night either. From the other room came the sound of Spike answering the door. She had not even heard him get up. Forcing a smile on her face, she arranged her mane and tail, and prepared to greet her guest.
It was Applejack, wanting help with some farm work or another. If only her head would stop throbbing. If only she could get all of the sand out of her eyes. Applejack’s words flowed over her, not leaving much in the way of an impression. Instead, her thoughts took a mind of their own. Applejack and Rainbow, was that real? Or am I imagining that? Two mares? How would that work? Well, genetically it would be unviable, but that didn’t mean that… Applejack seemed to notice something was up with her friend.
“Y’all sure you can lend me a hand? You look like Rainbow Dash trying to puzzle out why a pegasus would need legs. Somethin’ up? I wouldn’t be needin’ you help except… Twilight? Are you ok? Twilight?”
Back in reality Twilight blushed deeply at having such private thoughts interrupted. “It's nothing. I'm always willing to lend a friend a hoof. Let’s go!” She dashed out the door, keeping her head down so Applejack’s couldn’t see her face. She told herself, A hard day of work would be good. Tire me out.
She almost convinced herself it would work. And for the rest of the day, she lost herself in the labor of the field.
With a final wave to Applejack, Twilight shut the door and crawled up the stairs. She ached all over, and the thought of lying down was beyond heavenly. Her bed was there - she hadn’t bothered making it in weeks. She crawled under the covers, feeling the tiredness in her muscles. The work had taxed her body, but her mind remained as undaunted as ever. Still there lurking. Waiting for her to close her eyes. “Please Celestia, let me get some sleep. Any sleep,” she quietly begged. Then it hit her.
That was it. The solution. It was so clear. She sat bolt upright. She would send a letter to Princess Celestia. Celestia always had sound advice - she would know exactly what to do. However this plan didn’t hold up to closer scrutiny. First, while the Princess was the wisest pony in all of Equestria, there was no Prince Celestia. As far as she knew, there had never been a pony Celestia loved in more than a platonic way. So, she didn’t necessarily have any expertise in this field.
Field? Was love a legitimate field in which one could have expertise? Her derisive snort caused Owlowiscious to hoot reprovingly.
Certainly not! Love couldn’t be measured or evaluated in a quantifiable way. It was all conjecture and feelings, nothing substantive. Ponies in love’s clutches acted irrationally. It was most certainty not a scientific field. That thought brought comfort to her; she could hardly be faulted for failing to grasp a subject that in fact was not a true discipline at all.
This initial comfort died quickly as another thought drifted up from her well of fears. Friendship was a nebulous concept that couldn’t be quantified or measured. And she was assigned, by the Princess herself, to learn about the magic of friendship.
What if the Princess sees my inability to understand love as a sign I am unable to understand difficult concepts? Is love just friendship taken to the next level? What if she sees that this as a sign that I am unable to grasp the deepest facets of friendship! What if that means she- Her heart felt as if it would simultaneously burst and freeze. “Breathe,” she told herself, “In and out, it will be ok. In and out.” The breathing techniques Fluttershy taught her lowered her heart rate, allowing her muscles to relax, and the spiraling dread to recede. While focused on taking exact, even, measured breaths, her mind could not race off.
A letter would be a mistake. That was clear. “In and out.” Absently her mind drifted to Fluttershy. She was so kind and gentle, so peaceful and good with animals. Always there for her. She liked Fluttershy – Do I mean that? The thought struck her like a thunderbolt. It took her a moment to bring her mind to bear upon the full realization of her words. I like Fluttershy. I LIKE Fluttershy. Like like? As in like love? Could it be possible I'm in love with Fluttershy? The thought excited her. All of this effort and her subconscious had just told her the answer. I clearly just said that I liked her! She is one of my best friends. And I clearly just said that I liked her. A Freudian slip. That was it. It was all so obvious. I'm in love with Fluttershy.
Twilight marveled in the revelation, but was careful to re-examine and look for potential flaws and evidence. She was a friend, of course. She admired her way with animals and quiet inner serenity. Does that mean I potentially love her? Could it really be that simple? Is this love? It had to be. I would give anything for Fluttershy; I would do anything for her. That was one of the symptoms of love. Her heart raced with the excitement of cracking the puzzle of love. “This warrants a letter to the Princess!”
“Spike!” she bellowed, “Get up here and take a letter!” In the morning she would go talk to Fluttershy about her feelings, but first she had to tell the Princess.
A muffled grunt came from the other room. Oh right, it was late. Well, technically, it was early.
“Now,” she said more gently, almost apologetically, “It will only take a second.” It was important that she strike while the iron was hot. Love was not all that hard at all. It had been right under her mane the entire time.
Spike stumbled into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He made an indiscernible noise which she chose to take for a greeting.
“Sorry, but this is very important. It could be the most important lesson I've learned so far!”
“Mrggghh” Spike was clearly in no state to write anything. Or at least anything that would be legible.
“How about I get you a nice cup of hot chocolate? That should wake you up.”
“mhhh”
She went to the kitchen and put some milk on. She was giddy. This had been a problem that had haunted her for how many sleepless nights? Well it didn’t matter now, because it was solved. Spike took his seat with an ink pot, quill and a single scroll. Was that a subtle hint that he wanted this to be a short message? In depth analysis of this was made impossible by the bubbling excitement she felt. She had to move, do something. The coco was done.
“You want one marshmallow or two?” she whispered to Spike, hardly able to keep from yelling.
“Mrue,” Spike replied, right as he let out an enormous yawn.
“Two?” Must be. I will have to get him something special for this, maybe that new Doctor Hooves book. “Where did I leave those marshmallows from Pinkie? There you are!” Better let him have three. He really is a good helper, she mused to herself.
Spike took the coco without comment. While she was bursting to start the letter, she knew she had better let him drink some. Her attention turned to her own coco with its single marshmallow slowly revolving in the hot liquid. Pinkie Pie, what a riot, she always drew a laugh. Always making jokes, always bouncing and giggling. A smile curled Twilight’s muzzle as she thought of Pinkie. The warm coco was almost like a cup of Pinkie, raising her spirits and bringing a wide grin to her face.
SMASH
Spike bolted upright, yelling and blinking furiously, “I'm up! I am up!” He saw Twilight staring at a single marshmallow in the middle of a slowly expanding puddle of coco and smashed glass fragments. His initial displeasure with being woken up was replaced with concern at his friend’s behavior. She had been more and more preoccupied lately, spending days up in her room doing nothing. She was even falling behind in her studies, and by the look of her eyes, she couldn’t be sleeping well.
The minute dragged on with Spike rapidly wondering what he was supposed to do. She was just staring at that marshmallow.
“Twilight? Twilight, are you ok?”
No answer came. She looked fine, but something was clearly wrong. He was about to run for Nurse Redheart when she snapped back to reality.
“Dear Celestia I have been such a stupid, stupid filly.”
Spike was unsure what to make of this, so he remained silent. He was still worried. Something was up. She had gone from as happy as he had seen her in weeks back to this gloomy state. “I'm ready to take that letter for you now.” He hoped to draw her attention back to reality.
“Wha, no, never mind, I'm sorry for waking you. I – just, never mind, go back to bed. It's nothing.” Her voice was soft, and Spike had the disconcerting feeling that she was not fully talking to him.
“You said it was very important.”
“I was wrong.”
Spike flinched - she had not screamed it. That would have been better; instead she spoke in this eerily calm voice. He didn’t notice the tear that fell down into the puddle of coco.
“So very very wrong,” she said more to herself than anyone in the room. “I'm tired, goodnight,” she announced and made for the stairs, vanishing up the spiral case.
Enough was enough. Spike decided it was time to get Nurse Redheart. She would know what to do. He drained his mug and grabbed a rag. Now that he had a course of action, sleep sounded like a very attractive idea. If only Rarity would visit his dreams again. A very attractive idea indeed.
“How could I be so stupid! Basic rigor!” She paced her familiar route. This rug had seen many puzzles solved, but this time pacing offered no comfort. The shelves glared accusingly down at her.
She liked Pinkie Pie. Pinkie was so full of life, so ready to make everypony around her happy. She liked Pinkie Pie. In fact she liked Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash. Each was unique and special. They were all her friends. She liked them all. She liked them ALL.
Can I be in love with them all? This thought was dismissed immediately. If that’s love, then love was friendship. No, it can’t be. All the descriptions she had heard seemed to indicate that love was something higher. Something greater, somehow.
Platonic love? Yes that was it. A clear example of platonic love. She loved them as friends. True love had to be something more, something she had yet to experience.
“Nothing is ever easy,” she sighed. She was so close and yet was still adrift in a sea of complete non-comprehension. A peal of thunder rang out, and Spike emitted a loud snore from the other room. The echoing rumbles raised gooseflesh on her flanks. Desperate times call for desperate measures. She would send that letter to Celestia, but would sign it anonymously. Filled with sudden purpose, she got down a quill and scroll from the stationery cubbyholes on Spike’s desk, and quickly jotted down a message.
“That looks good.” Nice, short and to the point. A quick snip removed the header, “From the desk of Spike.” How to sign it? Use a pseudonym, perhaps like Maresilio Ficino. No, that would be too obvious. Better just stick with “concerned citizen.”
Dear Princess Celestia,
As a concerned citizen of Equestria, I am writing to inquire about the statistical likelihood that in any given population, any given mare in that population will find a mate. Current population dynamics are insufficient, and I understand that numerous variables influence this, making it difficult to provide a definitively accurate number. Any data you would be able to present on this matter would be most appreciated.
Yours in Friendship,
Concerned Citizen
“To Princess Celestia, Royal Palace, Canterlot.” Done. “I will send this first thing in the morning with Ditzy; I can’t well use Spike now, can I?” That brought a smile. She wiped the letter down to remove any hoof prints and sealed it. “Perfectly anonymous.”
She smiled contently and blew out the candles. Everything was under control. And with that, she rose and walked to bed for the first restful sleep in weeks.
Birdsong awoke her. It was late; Spike had not woken her! Despite the panic, she felt rested and alert. She sprang out of bed, not noticing that all the aches were gone. With nary a glance at the mirror, she rocketed down the stairs, the letter clutched tightly in her teeth.
“Ngghh, heeerrryy breen zeer?”
“What?” Spike asked, looking at her with a puzzled expression.
She spat out the letter. “Has the mail been here?!”
“No, but why would you need to send a letter when…“ he broke off, seeing that Twilight had seen their guest.
“Hello, Nurse Redheart, it's nice to see you as always, but what are you doing here?”
“Oh, just thought I would stop in and check out a book about soft hoof disease.”
Had Twilight been less distracted, she would have recognized the lie, but instead she just responded quickly, “Oh of course, fourth rack to the left, top shelf somewhere. Spike would be more than happy to find it for you. Good day.”
Nurse Redheart didn’t move or react to the rapid fire delivery. “Are you doing ok? You look a little… hurried.”
“Fine, fine, now if you will excuse me, I have to find Ditzy Doo.” And with that, she sprinted out the door, the letter floating after her. Spike and Nurse Redheart exchanged looks.
Covered in sweat and nursing a stitch in her side, she finally located Ditzy. In typical Ditzy fashion, she was going about her mail route in a completely random order. A bright smile appeared on the cross-eyed mare’s muzzle when she saw Twilight, as if she knew a joke no one else did.
“Twilight, you don’t live here,” she said, gesturing at an abandoned barn.
Ignoring the question as to why Ditzy was delivering mail to an abandoned barn, Twilight panted out, “I - need you to – hooo – deliver this letter to this address.”
The grey pegasus took the letter with a giggle. Twilight had a sudden rush of fear, Was she wondering why I didn’t send it with Spike? Did she suspect something? Think, you must think!
Before she could stammer out a lame excuse Derpy said in a hushed conspiratorial voice, “Me understand, I hope he is cute.”
The statement took a second to register.
“I - you - he is - this isn’t for a…” her spluttering was cut off by Ditzy’s winking, each eye out of synch and fluttering off.
As the pegasus gained height, Twilight stood stunned. The only thing she could tell herself is that, For better or worse, it's sent. She tried to push Ditzy’s comment from her mind. Ditzy meant nothing by it. She doesn’t suspect anything, does she? No, impossible. It was just one of those Ditzy things; she says weird things all the time and means nothing by them. That made her feel much better. So good, in fact, that she decided to go to the spa. Treat herself. She had to look her best – after all, you never know what pony could be watching. That brought a blush.
When she returned to the library Nurse Redheart was still there with Spike. They both looked up quickly when the door opened.
“Sorry I had to run, I had a very important errand to run and then I stopped off at the – well that’s not important. Did Spike find the book you needed?”
“Why yes, of course. He was most helpful, as always.”
The door pulled closed, and she noticed Spike and Nurse Redheart were not alone in the room. All of her friends were here, sitting in a row, looking at her, but not meeting her gaze.
“What’s this?”
“Twilight, we are worried about you.” Rainbow Dash’s voice was tense and stilted, a far cry from her normally confident self. She squirmed in her seat, looking uncomfortable. Twilight had the distinct impression these lines had been rehearsed. “You have not been yourself lately and we are all worried. As your friends we feel…that… you…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes kept darting to Nurse Redheart, imploring.
Applejack was the one to come to her rescue. “…are workin’ far too hard on whatever it’s that yer are workin’ on.”
Twilight was thunderstruck. She had been pretty reclusive, but for her friends to notice…
“I'm fine, I've just been working on this really difficult problem. That’s all. Nothing to it. I got it all under control.”
“You look like Applejack when she tried to buck that entire orchard by herself.” Applejack shot Rarity a glare that went unnoticed. “Ease up or you will absolutely wreck your eyes!” Rarity intoned, making crow’s feet sound like the epitome of injuries.
“I totally understand. And have actually just got help on it. It won’t be a problem anymore. Really! I feel great, amazing even!”
“Um, are you sure you are alright?” Fluttershy squeaked.
“Couldn’t be better!” she exclaimed, ignoring Spike and Nurse Redheart’s skeptical looks. In truth, she did look much better. A good night’s sleep had done wonders, and the spa ponies had worked their usual magic.
“You just seemed, well, um, not, um…”
“What Fluttershy is trying to say is that you have seemed distracted for weeks now.”
“No, really I am fine,” Twilight cut into Rarity’s prescribed section.
Dubious looks greeted her assertion. No pony said anything, instead most choose to look around at the library, at their hooves, or out the window. Only Nurse Redheart kept her appraising look fixed on the lavender mare.
“If I may interrupt,” Nurse Redheart asked, knowing full well she was interrupting no pony and any pony who dared to speak had the floor. “Stress can be an insidious cycle. If you are stressed about something it can mess with your sleep cycle which then causes more stress. It can be very hard to stop the spiral. Don’t be afraid to reach out. We are all here for you.” Her tone was clinical yet gentle.
“Thank you so much, but you cannot help me with this particular problem.” When they made to argue she finished, “I have just sent a letter to…” just before the words came out she realized that she couldn’t tell them she sent something to Celestia.
“…An old friend of mine from Canterlot.” Technically that was not a lie. “She is not exactly an expert, but I hope she can shed some light on the problem. It will be all resolved soon. And I feel much better today. I got a great night sleep last night.”
Her answer was enough for Rainbow Dash.
“See I told you all! She is the spitting image of perfection!” The cyan pony fled her seat so fast it fell over. “A-Okay see? Hey Applejack, race you back to the barn!”
Twilight blushed, wondering what exactly was going to be resumed “back at the barn.”
Applejack’s response took the form of racing past Twilight and out the door, leaving Rainbow Dash to play catch up.
“If you will excuse me, I have a date with some silk imported from the gryphon coast.” And Rarity took her leave.
Pinkie bounced up and whispered conspiratorially, “When you solve you thingie-majiger we should totally have a celebration! I know a pony that can hook us up with some premium helium!” Her message delivered, she bounced out whistling something that sounded like “the Stallions go Marching on.”
“We are all here for you; there is no shame in needing help.” Nurse Redheart gave it more try, looking deep into Twilight’s eyes, quietly assessing.
“Thanks, I'm very fortunate to have friends like you all but I'm fine.”
What ever she found in Twilight’s eyes seemed to satisfy her and she left with a long backward glance.
Fluttershy was still in her seat, playing with her mane and jumped when the door clicked shut. “Twilight… I… um… wanted… to tell you… well… Iamhereforyou.” The last part was delivered so quickly Twilight could barely deceiver it.
Twilight was touched by her friend’s concern. “Thank you Fluttershy, you are such a good friend. I don’t know what I would do with out you.”
Fluttershy made like she wanted to say something but only a squeak came out. It was hard to tell, because her mane covered most of her muzzle but Twilight thought the Yellow pegasus was blushing. Another squeak and Fluttershy was out the door before Twilight could say another word.
The door closed softly. All of his erstwhile allies having deserted him, Spike prepared for the verbal barrage. His eyes screwed up tight, he was totally unprepared for Twilight rushing up and putting him in a bear hug.
“Oh Spike, thank you!”
He was unsure if oxygen deprivation was coloring his judgment but it seemed she was not mad.
“You’re not mad?” he managed to gasp out.
“Why would I be mad? You all care about me! You’re the best friends a pony could wish for!”
He had nothing to counter that. And with another squeeze, she released him, grinning widely.
“Of course we care about you. We all…” His sentence was interrupted by a belch of emerald flame. A letter drifted down, embossed with the royal seal. Spike looked at it, confused.
“Why is the Princess writing to us?”
Twilight snatched the letter up, hardly able to contain her enthusiasm behind a mask of quiet confusion. Trembling she broke the seal and unfurled the scroll. She didn’t even pause to wonder why Princess Celestia was sending her the letter and not replying to the “concerned citizen.”
My Dearest Student,
I received a letter from an anonymous concerned citizen. She is doing research into population dynamics and I have looked at the library here and cannot find what she is looking for, so I told her to seek you out. I fear she is in fact a confused filly who simply doesn’t want to be alone anymore. She is exceptionally intelligent and I imagine you two would get along great. When you meet her, pass along the following advice: Finding love is some of the greatest magic of all. All it takes is opening your heart. Don’t be afraid; take a chance. You will have your heart broken, but remember, love will win out. Love is all about being crazy about somepony. Lose yourself in it and forget the reasoning. Thank you for your help in this matter.
H.R.H.
Princess Celestia
She turned the letter over, staring at the back. Trembling, she flipped it over and started reading it again. A sinking feeling filled her. She didn’t know what she had expected from Celestia. But she certainly expected more than, “Lose yourself in it and forget the reasoning.” What did that even mean? One part of her mind registered surprise that she didn’t break down after having this latest hope crushed. She was past that. A quiet desperation filled her. She couldn’t go back to the sleepless hell she'd been living.
The time had come to solve this particular problem. Once and for all. Her mistake had been approaching it too haphazardly, she reasoned. She would start fresh. Start at the beginning. The scientific approach was best. Science had always helped her in the past, and she saw no reason it could not be applied to this situation.
This reasoning calmed her. Her analytical mind broke down the problem and began to devise a series of tests. The first question was obvious:
“Colts or Fillies?”
Author's note: My first MLP fan fiction. In fact my first fan fiction ever. Come to think of it this is my first creative story I have written. As such I'm willing to take any and all criticism; grammar, plot, pacing, characterization, anything. It is impossible to hurt my feelings. I'm slightly concerned that the pacing is too slow but I really wanted to capture Twilight’s feelings.
Thanks to both Pascoite and Mystic for helping me with the editing. It is much better for it.
Now edited. Version 3.0.
Too Intelligent to be Loved
Chapter 2: Data Collection
“Pure logic is the ruin of the spirit.”
“Both?” The lavender pony flushed red at that thought. Certainly it was possible... I mean, strictly speaking if one could love one…There was no reason… Soon she was as crimson as Big Mac. Only Spike’s polite cough from the doorway brought her back to reality.
“There is somepony at the door.”
Just tell her how you feel. It is Twilight; she will understand. There was the library door. Ok, knock on the door. She answers. ‘Hello Twilight, can I talk to you about something?’ She responds yes. ‘Oh great, you see Twilight I…? What? I like you. No, I really like you. No, I love you. Definitely not. Cannot stop thinking about you…?’ This is going nowhere. A shiver. It's really cold out here.
Three loud knocks rang out, piercing the night’s calm. Their deep resonant sounds couldn't have been more frightening if they were the bellows of an enraged Ursa Major.
Twilight opened the door to reveal an empty stoop.
“Hello? Is there anypony there?” She stood there waiting, “Anypony?”
No answer came save for a gentle gust of November wind.
With that distraction already forgotten, Twilight moved downstairs to her waiting lab. Princess Celestia’s letter lay floating in a puddle where the wind had deposited it. A single hoof print marred its surface.
That was close. Another second and she would have had me cold. The relief was mixed with guilt and disappointment, followed swiftly by anger. That is the WHOLE point! She is supposed to see me. However this entire endeavor was SUPPOSED to be simple. She looks so sad standing there. I should just walk up and…? And what? It was daring, audacious, and risky. Just say, ‘Oh hi Twilight!’ That could work… It just might work. It could work. Just do it Every step forward was an enormous effort. All you need to do is say, ‘Pleasant evening, Twilight.’ Just say it. They are only three words. Three words - that is all you need say! Although that thought was repeated over and over, it provided little comfort. “This is it, just three words. Nothing had even been this hard. Ok. this time for real.
The mental tirade was interrupted by the sight of a sheet of paper floating dejectedly in a puddle.
The chill of the lab was lost on Twilight. She felt relaxed. This was her sanctuary; in this room any puzzle could be reasoned out, any problem could be dissected, any mystery could be brought into the light. Beakers stood in their neat rows, silent sentries waiting to be called. The gene-sequencer hummed quietly, its pleasant murmur promising to illuminate the darkest depths. A series of clicks came from the thaumaturgy meter, the high-strung magic watchdog. She patted it and was rewarded with another series of clicks.
From the wall, Starswirl the Bearded gazed down on her, a knowing twinkle in his eye. Her costume hung next to his portrait. “Figures only Princess Luna would appreciate it.” The benighted sovereign watched her from her own portrait, a gentle smile gracing her muzzle.
This was her favorite picture of Luna, showing nothing of Nightmare Moon, and only the alicorn she met on Nighmare night. Celestia’s portrait hung next to Luna’s, occupying the highest point in the room. Officially, both were Princesses and held their place on her wall for that reason. However, Princess Celestia would hang there because Twilight had boundless respect for her. She was her mentor, and Celestia’s opinion of her carried an impossible weight. Princess Luna was something else entirely. She was still royalty, but Twilight saw a lot of herself in the keeper of the night. One of her proudest moments was not vanquishing Nightmare Moon but releasing Luna.
She took her lab coat from the rack, feeling its reassuring weight drape around her. Celestia looked on approvingly.
The desk was the heart of the room, and its surface was a stark contrast to the scrupulous order Twilight normally imposed. Scrolls were piled high, quills scattered, ink pots perched precariously atop stacks of open books. This was her private vice, an island of chaos in a sea of order. A scroll slid neatly from under a picture of all her friends as a quill lightly dabbed up some ink. The desk was a familiar glove that she just put on. Both of them were ready.
Her tongue nestled in its familiar home in the top corner of her mouth and she began her work.
“Analysis of Mare Biological Attraction Symptoms with Emphasis on Gender Based Infatuation.”
That would do for a working title. Her mind turned now to how she would quantitatively analyze the symptoms of love.
“Love is always described as leaving ponies short of breath. I best check for respiratory rate and O2 Sats. Blood pressure and eye dilation of course.” She cast her mind out, examining every rumor she had ever heard about what love felt like. “Blood distribution perhaps, I could examine that thermally. Ear twitches? Does love cause that? Best check for it anyway. Better look for tail twitches too.”
Her eyes darted to the romance novels setting on their shelves. A while back she had read a few and found them to be generally boring. Nothing substantive. Ponies declared their unrequited love for each other and that was that. None of them cataloged the symptoms in an organized way or explained the mysterious mechanism behind love.
“Love supposedly does something with the stomach doesn’t it? Hmm, nausea perhaps. Chemical balances in the blood. I should test hormones especially; they must play a large role in love. Spike always gets tongue-tied when he speaks to Rarity; maybe it causes some sort of facial paralysis. That would also explain the stupid looks on some ponies’ faces when they are in love.”
Twilight was momentarily distracted by thoughts of Spike. “Surely he knows that even if she feels the same for him, the two of them are of different species. They cannot breed. Very strange, evolutionarily it would be disfavorable for members of different species to be attracted to each other.” Finally she ascribed it to Spike’s youth and resumed her list of symptoms.
“I cannot forget to check for dry mouth, long stares, and shifting from hoof to hoof. I can easily do that by looking for saliva production, retinal tracking, and weight distribution” All these and more were neatly listed in a column. The list of possible “symptoms” grew and grew until it contained everything from sweat production to mane growth. Twilight was determined to be, if nothing else, thorough.
“Love does a lot in the brain. Sufferers say they cannot stop thinking about their object of affection. Hmmm. I could use some kind of brain scan, perhaps. Once I identify the signs of love, I can then scan a pony while she is thinking about her love to find out what it does to her brain. It must have some sort of pattern or imprint. From there I will know exactly where love is processed in the brain. Simple. But first I need to find the biological symptoms.” And with that, she dotted the last i and rolled the scroll up neatly, returning it to its place under the celluloid representation of her friends.
“How can I investigate this? I cannot test myself yet because I know what I am looking for. It could influence my results. No, I need some other pony so as to avoid bias. But who? Ideally I need a large sample size. And I will need some sort of rig the pony could wear so I can record their reactions when exposed to various stimuli. I could attach all the sensors to it and observe from here. Now, where did I leave my interferometer?”
Now the real work began.
Spike still heard the sounds of industry coming up from Twilight’s lab. Whatever project she was working on sure was consuming a lot of her time. For the past three days since that letter from Celestia, she had been working straight through, subsisting on dandelion sandwiches and coltsfoot tea. This was not all that unusual for her. Once she got an idea into her head, a herd of buffalo couldn’t pull her away from it. One time she spent a week testing if Red Pegasus really did give you wings, and then there was the infamous “Pinkie Sense” debacle. The cot was gone so presumably she was sleeping down there - always a sign she was up to something big. Time to take her the lunch sandwiches and check up on her.
“Twilight..?
“Breakfast already? Wow, time sure does fly! I'm famished!” Her mane was surprisingly well–kept, but there was a distinct whiff of burning hair.
A sandwich lifted itself off the platter, rotated, and fell into the mug of tea. It sat for a second, swelling before zooming out, still dripping, and flying whole into Twilight’s awaiting mouth.
“Twilight… that is disgusting!” Spike proclaimed as Twilight’s cheeks bulged and a dribble of tea ran down her neck.
“Bruk ish fassih!” Twilight managed before with a massive effort she swallowed and repeated, “But it's faster! And I mean it all goes to the same place in the end! I'm just improving the efficiency.”
Spike could only look on silently as one by one the remaining sandwiches met a similar fate. At least she is eating… An enormous burp brought Spike back to reality. He looked to Twilight who looked totally unabashed about her action. He raised an eyebrow.
“For your information eructation is a normal part of the gastrointestinal process. It is perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed about.” Her voice was haughty and dignified but he thought he detected the smallest hint of redness around her muzzle. “Only social pressure marks it as anything more than a biological reaction to air in the stomach. In some cultures, such as the griffons of Tiuti, it is considered as a compliment and an expression of appreciation.” She looked at him expectantly.
“Um… you’re welcome, it was nothing?”
“And besides you do it every time the Princess sends us a letter.”
Spike quickly changed the subject before Twilight embarked on a lecture about nitrogen build up or the alternative ways of expelling gas from the digestive system.
“What are you doing down here?” He asked, gazing around the lab, which looked like what would have happened if the Cyber-steeds invaded Rarity’s boutique. Clothing covered in wires enshrouded ponyquins in a bizarre fashion. Most were connected to strange boxes and gauges. Pads, prongs, and clips dotted the ponyquins’ bodies all over. One bore distinct scorch marks and had a partially melted flank.
“Oh don’t worry about that one; it was my Mark IV model, and I had a slight cross-wiring problem. It's all sorted out now! And without further ado, allow me to introduce my latest invention! The full-spectrum biological infatuation analyzer!”
Spike selected his best “I am very interested, but have no understanding of what you just said” expression. He had a lot of practice with this one.
Twilight got the hint. “It's designed to relay information about what a pony is feeling. It records everything. There,” she pointed to a magical gem stuck to the forehead of a curiously shaped helmet, “is an audio-visual pickup. And there is the muscle recorder. This measures chest expansion to read breathing. And this bit here reads saliva and hormone levels…” The explanation continued on and on.
Spike wore his “interested and listening intently” expression knowing that she would have to stop eventually.
And he was right. After naming no less than fifty distinct sensors, probes, and various other components, she concluded with describing the high-gain relay.
“This will transmit through the Kelms-Heismholds resonance effect a magical frequency, which will then be decoded by my thaumaturgy-wave meter” What looked like the remains of a jukebox that had been slammed through several shelves of plumbing parts stood proudly in the center of the room. “The signal then can be viewed here!”
A random collection of dials, gauges, and screens grew off the “thaumategification-machine.” Several boxes spat out a continuous stream of scrolls with numbers, zigzagging lines, hieroglyphics, and other meaningless markings. These fell neatly into several boxes marked with such labels as: O2 sats, blood pressure, sweat production, skin conductivity, pupil width and numerous other things apparently of great interest to Twilight.
“Your job,” she said snapping Spike back to reality, “will be to record my observations. Think you are up to the task, Number One Assistant?”
“Of course!” Spike said, his chest puffing out importantly.
“Now this is important, listen carefully Spike, no pony can know what I am testing for. NO pony! If they find out, then it will bias the results and my entire experiment is compromised!”
“That shouldn't be a problem. I don’t even know what you are testing for.”
“Oh, of course, how silly of me. I'm testing…” The next part was so quiet that Spike couldn’t hear it. Twilight paused, looking at Spike and doing her best to match the color of Applejack’s barn. Then as her color returned to normal, her face took on a serious expression, “Spike, you must swear an oath to me that under no circumstances will you tell anypony what I am about to tell you. Swear to me the most solemn vow!”
“I swear.”
“Cross your heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?”
“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” he deadpanned, making the gestures. He hated that silly oath but it seemed to satisfy Twilight, and he really wanted to hear what this was all about.
Her voice assumed a clipped, clinical tone, “I am scientifically examining what ponies’ bodies do when they are in love.”
“Love? Gross!”
“Spike, need I remind you that you have undertaken the most solemn oath of secrecy? If you are unwilling to help me, then I kindly ask that you vacate my lab so I can continue my work in peace!”
“Relax, Twilight. I won’t tell anypony and I won’t leave you alone at this.”
“Great, I knew I could count on you! Number One Assistant.” She winked, knowing how much Spike liked that moniker.
“Alright, what's first?”
“We need some test subjects.”
Ok, just knock on the door. One knock. That is it. Leave your letter. Walk away. The letter explains everything. You carefully crafted it to tell her exactly how you feel about her. If she is at all interested then you can talk. If not… NO, don’t think like that! If not, no harm done. Twilight is one of the most understanding ponies around. And she is not going to reject you. She already likes you. Just knock. Knock, place, leave. Knock, place, leave.
Despite the simplicity of the operation, it never happened.
“Not tha’ I don’ trust you and all, Twilight, but you sure all t’is is, well, safe?”
“Of course, Applejack, I solved the wiring problem several models ago.”
“Err.”
“I really appreciate your helping me with this. I couldn’t do it without you. Now remember, just go about your day as normal and try not to let the equipment get in your way.”
“Aye, course I trust you. Happy to help a friend in need. You gonna tell me what all t’is is for?”
“Oh you know, just testing your general reactions to various stimuli.”
“Yer the one with all them fancy mathematics.”
“Great, now all I need to do is calibrate the sensors. Just stand over there and follow Spike’s instructions. Then we can have you back to your day.”
Subject AJ1 has completed baseline readings. Spike, you getting all this? Ok, great. Just record everything I say. No, not this. Start now. Right after I say now. You writing? Good. Subject is now leaving staging area and continuing her day. Signal strength is holding. Vitals stable. Time is now 10:02 Standard Equestrian Time
10:43. Subject has reached Sweet Apple Acres. No abnormal readings. Vitals are within established norms. Respiration holding, blood pressure holding, skin conductivity 7.51 S/m. Subject is beginning physically demanding tasks. Heart rate is up as is sweat production. All consistent with manual exertion.
“Hey Applejack, whatcha doin’?
“Just choppin’ some firewood.”
13:54. Subject is engaged in conversation with subject now designated RD1. Noting fluctuations in vital readings.
“Look, now ain't a good time.”
“No I mean what’s with that crazy getup, it looks kinda ho...”
“Sum experiment fur Twilight.” She cut in quickly.
13:56. Fluctuations are increasing. Subject’s heart rate is elevated past pre-exertion levels. Sweat production is also up. Noting weight shifts mainly on the front hooves. This could be the data we are looking for. Interesting blood distribution patterns are starting to appear. Subject is becoming flushed.
“I see, well when will you be done? I mean, are we still on for tonight? I know this great spot where…”
“Shouldin you b’ watchin’ the sky? Like ‘ight now? I will tawk to yo’ lat-er.”
13: 57. Subject is attempting to communicate without moving lips. Reason unknown.
“Oh, OH, ok you’re probably right, the clouds don’t move themselves after all. He eh. I was just stopping by to say hello. So hello! Well, goodbye then.” The hurt in her voice was clear.
“Hayfeathers.”
13:58. Massive spikes all across the board! Subject is definitely experiencing a strong biological reaction consistent with a strong emotional reaction. Skin conductivity is now at 15 Kts and climbing. Mane growth is holding. Spike are you getting all this?
Spike decided the test had gone far enough and took this opportunity to nudge something important with his foot. It fell over with a crash, knocking several cables loose. Twilight, still giving her observations as best as she could, dove into the pile of wires and components, and attempted to repair whatever witchcraft had broken.
Spike pressed the transmit gem, and in his best Twilight impersonation said, “Applejack, you can go ahead and take off the rig. We haven't been able to get any data from the relay. We cannot even hear you.” He was glad she was the element of honesty and not he. As the power died to the system, the last thing he heard was Applejack calling out to the retreating blue pegasus.
“Did you say something?” Twilight asked, popping out of the tangled mass, several wires poking through her mane.
“Just told Applejack that we were having problems.” Technically that was true. “Looks like we lost the connection.” Also technically true, as static was filling the screens and the scrolls began to print out flat lines.
14:03. Experiment terminated due to equipment failure.
“Twilight, I know Applejack is your friend but I don’t think you should run any more tests on her. Her work at Sweet Apple Acres is very important, and it isn’t fair to interfere with that. Besides, you wouldn’t want her to damage the rig; you know how she gets so dirty and sweaty. That is probably why the whole thing failed in the first place.” Spike felt a twinge of guilt for abusing the truth in such a manner, but he ignored it.
“I really think we could get some great data from subject AJ1. Look at what we already have! A few more tests and we could have the answers we need!”
Spike noticed the answers had become something “we” needed.
Twilight sighed, “Alright, if you feel that strongly about it, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to diversify our subject pool. We can always come back to subject AJ1. ”
Subject AJ1 Observational Analysis: Subject, while showing interesting biological symptoms, is unsuitable for further testing due to inability to perform normal daily routine with experimental apparatus. Possible candidate for future tests.
11:14. Subject PP1. Subject has finished baseline readings. Is now leaving staging area and is entering test area. Vital stats are holding stable. Wait, blood pressure increasing! Respiratory rate has doubled! Eye dilation skyrocketing! Tail twitches at regular 4 second intervals. Massive gyrations! Ground is moving vertically violently . Eyes are closed. A pause, then the distinct sound of a hoof contacting forehead. Subject is bouncing, ahem, skipping down the road. Another pause. Whistling.
11:56. Subject has been bouncing for 42 minutes without any apparent reason. 29 minutes of those were spent bouncing in place.
12:08. Bouncing has ceased. Respiratory rate falling. Blood pressure falling.
“Twilight, are you still there?!? I was bouncing for a long time! Do you have any books about Kangaroos? I want to meet a kangaroo! They can bounce and bounce!”
O2 sats dangerously low. Subject has not inhaled in close to 71 seconds. Subject has broken the experimental wall and is attempting to converse with experimenter.
“And bounce!”
Subject has stopped to inhale. Tidal volume of lungs is amazing. Dialog is continuing…
…19:30. Subject has finished tying party hats on 87 helium balloons. Exact reasoning behind actions is not currently known. Exact reasoning behind most actions is currently unknown.
“Twilight! Twwwiiii! These are the aliens! With this craaazzy costume I feel like a Spacepony! So I made up some alien friends! Seee their heads! CRAZY I know! Don’t worry, they cannot understand our language! We are having a party! You should be here! You love space! Oh wait you ARE here! Well you’re in my head! More like on my head! I should get you some punch! ALIEN PUNCH! They make the bessst space punch!”
Subject is engaged in party for inanimate objects. Blood pressure readings, respiratory rates, pupil dilation, and muscle spasms are all fluctuating at random. No discernable pattern has yet been identified. Mane growth appears to be the only steady factor.
“Silly Filly! You cannot drink space punch if you’re not here! Maybe I should pour the punch into this box!"
No, don’t! don’t! Twilight cried, forgetting that she could not hear her unless the transmit rune was pressed.
“I KNOW! I will bring the party AND the punch to you! Come on guys! Let’s go to Twilight’s! Come on! Ohhhhhhh, that’s right! He he! I mean: Beeep, beeepp, beep, bop, beep!”
Subject is returning to staging area. Experiment terminated. Subject PP1 Observational Analysis: Subject PP1 is unsuitable for further tests due to a fundamental randomness of actions.
A moment later, Pinkie Pie was at the door with her gaggle of “aliens,” and sure enough a party got started. Twilight needed the release. Besides the space punch was quite good.
Looks like another party. Go in. You love parties. Well, you don’t hate parties. All that much. Perfect chance to talk to her. Just pull her aside. Everypony will be distracted and you can talk.
Twilight opened her door again. She could have sworn she just heard somepony knocking again. But upon opening the door there was no pony, save the three Cutie Mark Crusaders in a huge cloud of dust down the street. “Is it you fillies who have been knocking on my door?”
“Nope!” they all cried in unison, running out of the cloud, “we were too busy trying to see if our special talent is street sweeping.”
“The streets do look nice. I wonder who keeps knocking then, must be losing my mind.”
“You’re not crazy, we saw who just knocked on your door. It was…”
Before Applebloom could finish, Big Mac stepped from out of the shadows and scooped her up. “Pardon me, Miss Twilight, Applebloom shouldn’ be out this late.”
“What are you talking about! It isn’t even dark out!”
“It's late and time for all you young ‘uns to get to bed.”
“It's not even 4:00 P.M!”
“Daylight savings, come on get along. Move.” And with that, he shepherded them down the street and out of sight.
That was odd , Twilight thought to herself. Big Mac sure was acting funny. Daylight savings time was 2 weeks ago. And if not the CMC then who keeps knocking on my door? It couldn’t be Big Mac, could it? She blushed, looking down the street at the retreating red stallion and his three charges. No, that was crazy talk. I mean it was certainly possible…
Another pair of eyes gratefully watched Big Mac herding the Cutie Mark Crusaders away. Another close call; you cannot keep this up. A deep sense of self-loathing returned. I was so close. Why is this so hard!?! Why can I not just talk to her?
Author's note: As always any and all feedback is welcome. Thanks again to Pascoite and Mystic.
Version 3.0
Too Intelligent to be Loved
Chapter 3: Extrapolation
“It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return, but what is the most painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let the person know how you feel.”
Twilight closed the door, her mind buzzing. She knew very little about the enigmatic red stallion. He never seemed to have much to say to her. But granted, he didn’t have much to say to anypony. “Why would he be knocking on my door?” The “aliens” stared back at her, providing no answers.
“Thanks Pinkie,” Twilight said as she accepted her eighth cup of alien punch.
“More to the point, why would he knock and then leave?”
“Why would who do what?”
Twilight jumped, startled by Pinkie’s intrusion into her thoughts.
“Um, why would – Soarin’ – knnnnock down a–n apple tree?” For all her intelligence Twilight was horrible at spontaneous lies.
“I have no idea! Why?!”
“Um because…uhh - he wanted - an apple tree-at? Treat? Get it?”
Pinkie looked at her for a second then burst out laughing. “Tree-at!” She exclaimed. “I have to tell that one to Emperor Beeboop!”
Twilight let out a breath of relief as Pinkie bounced off to tell the Emperor. She jumped again as a series of knocks rang out. When she landed, she whirled around and wrenched open the door.
There stood Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Applejack all with party hats, and all looking surprised at Twilight’s wild expression.
“Something up, sugar-cube?” No pony could miss Twilight’s crestfallen appearance.
“Nothing at all. Just a totally tubular party! Come on in!”
Rainbow Dash flinched at Twilight’s abuse of the word “tubular.” From there the party really got started. More guests arrived, irresistibly drawn by the unmistakable sounds of merriment. Although everypony had a great time partying in space, none could fail to notice that Twilight, while having fun, seemed distracted for most of the night.
The party finished with Pinkie’s releasing all the “aliens” into the sky. Everypony cheered as they slowly rose into the heavens, returning to their home planet. Twilight cheered along with the crowd but could not help thinking about the ending to this entire macabre ritual. The balloons would rise until the pressure differential popped them one by one in the darkness. They would not find their home among the stars. From the moment they were breathed into life, they were doomed to die alone. On that depressing note, Twilight said goodnight to all and headed up for bed.
She didn’t even try crawling into her bed. The alien punch had a very high caffeine content, but what really kept her up were thoughts of Big Mac.
There has to be a reason he would be trying to talk to me. He obviously wants to say something. But what? And why doesn’t he just say it? Reading other ponies’ intentions was not her strong suit; they tended to be so… irrational. He must be embarrassed about it. Typically, colts are too embarrassed to talk to Nurse Redheart about their problems. Her mind continued racing, examining, analyzing.
The only conclusion is that he is nervous around me, specifically when he is alone with me. She normally was not this slow to catch on, but she was totally unprepared for this sort of interest. Finally the wheels ground through the possibilities to rest with the obvious. It was completely unthinkable.
Could he like me? As in like, like? Like love? That would explain it all. He kept my Smarty-Pants doll. Even after the want-it need-it spell was done. He likes me. It all makes sense. Her mind was so preoccupied with compiling evidence and analyzing possibilities that she was able to divorce her feelings. I need to approach this rationally.
Twilight took this opportunity to reexamine her entire endeavor. Premise 1: The goal of a biological organism is to perpetuate its genes. Genetically, as a mare, I need a stallion for procreation. I suppose I could use a surrogate donor. She quickly moved on before her mind could put too much consideration into exactly what would be involved in a “donation.” But that would not be ideal. He needs to be healthy and should show signs of beneficial traits. Premise 2: I will remain with this pony for most of my life. He needs to be stable and able to provide for me and my offspring, both materially and parentally.
Big Macintosh is physically strong and is in superb shape. He has shown with Sweet Apple Acres that he is capable of providing financial support. However, while Big Macintosh meets most of those criteria, I don’t know about his blood work or possible genetic defects. He appears to be physically healthy, but he could have underlying genetic disorders that I don’t want to pass on to my foal. I need to check those before I consider him as a possible mate candidate. Assuming he passes the biological screening, he would make an ideal mate. He is big and strong. He has a good job. He is hardworking, calm, loyal, determined, and dependable. All perfect traits. I’ll need his consent for those tests. I also need to confirm my suspicions. He should be up by dawn. She looked at the clock; it was 4:08A.M. Dawn was another two hours off. “I’ll go see him then.”
And with that thought, she pulled the covers up around her and started rereading Of Mice and Stallions.
“Miss Twilight,” intoned Big Mac in his usual steady calm voice, “Ah love ya like a sister. Yer the smartest pony Ah know. But mah heart rests with another.” He was genuinely sorry. She could tell that from his tone. “Ah wish Ah could change that. But the heart wants what the heart wants.” He embraced her. It felt like being hugged by an older brother. “You’ll always be mah little sister.”
“Of course, I understand. Thank you. Have a good day.” Twilight was able to keep everything walled off behind her emotional barriers until she reached the library, was past Spike and behind her room’s door.
Spike woke to the sound of sobbing coming from Twilight’s room. Tiredly he rubbed sleep from his eyes and looked out to see dawn just finish breaking. Ploddin his way along, he listened intently, but no sound reached him. He lightly knocked. “Twilight… are you ok?”
No answer came. He swung the door open easily, and found Twilight’s room undisturbed. Everything was perfectly in order. Twilight was in her bed, sleeping peacefully. He froze, worried he had woken her with his knocks, but she was obviously in a deep sleep, the covers slowly rising and falling. Slowly, he backed out the door.
He almost made it, but his tail caught the coat rack, knocking it over with a tremendous crash. He jumped and became entangled in her coat, falling heavily to the ground with another reverberating impact. He fought his way out of the coat and rose, looking guilty at Twilight, but she had not woken up. Her face retained the tranquil expression of slumber. She must just be REALLY tired. Moving ever so slowly, he righted the stand and hung the coat back up, wincing at every creak of the floorboards. He inched out the door, careful not to bump anything else.
Once downstairs, he forced his heart rate back down to something that approached a normal rhythm and let out a breath. Adrenaline coursed through his system, making his claws twitch. No way was he getting back to sleep now, so he made a cup of hot coco, and with a careful glance around, added three marshmallows. It really was beautiful, he decided, looking out the window. His attention turned back to the coco. Everything was right in the world. Everything except Twilight’s coat, which lay discarded on the floor by the door. That was easily remedied. Funny, it was cold like it had been outside. “Weird.”
Taking yet another guilty look around the room, he satisfied himself that Twilight was still asleep, and he was safe to add another marshmallow. Now everything was right with the world. He sipped quietly, enjoying the sights of Ponyville coming alive; however, before long he had enough of tranquil serenity. He wanted action, adventure, danger. The new Dr. Whooves novel Twilight had got him fit the bill perfectly.
“The Doctor again finds himself in a Cyber-Steed trap. Can he escape from the clutches of the electro-gelding?”
This one was going to be good. He settled into his spot on the couch, feeling the cushions assume their familiar shape. Even as he cracked the cover and inhaled the aroma of a fresh page, a thought kept niggling in the back of his mind. Wait, I just hung up her coat, didn’t I? Then what did I trip over upstairs? He looked, and there was Twilight’s coat, right where he just hung it up. With a puzzled frown, he tiptoed upstairs and cracked open the door.
In the dim light he could see the coat rack where he set it back up. But no coat. “Weird.” This mystery was not as exciting as the one in which the Doctor was embroiled, so he returned to his favorite spot and found out that in fact the Doctor was able to escape from the electro-gelding after all.
Twilight stood in the dark of her room, her horn providing flickering illumination as it held the illusion in place. The shadows didn’t bother her now.
“Big Mac was right, of course. The heart wants what the heart wants.” She felt angry, not at Big Mac, but at the whole cruel irony of it. It isn’t rational! One of the biggest, if not the biggest, decision in my life is based on… She struggled to find a word for it. the heart? An organ that pumps blood should not have this much control! Is the gallbladder in charge of my favorite color?! Does my spleen get to pick the name of my foal?!
The very notion that the heart had some other “emotional” function was absurd, but so many ponies accepted it. She cried out with the sheer inanity of it. Big Macintosh seemed to find it a perfectly reasonable explanation. She was past tears now; this was a puzzle once again. It was like one of Pinkie’s “riddles,” - it didn’t make any sense at all. She was not even sure if once she had the answer it would make sense.
“What did you get when you crossed a dragon and a buffalo? The question doesn’t make any sense you couldn’t cross breed them; they were too genetically different, and even if you did, you wouldn’t end up with a half-dragon half-buffalo. It didn’t make any sense. The answer makes even less. And yet everypony seemed to innately understand it. I need more data. More research. The answer is out there.
It has to be…
16:54. Subject is entering Sugar Cube Corner. Readings all within established ranges. Slightly elevated blood pressure +.5%. Illusion is holding firm.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cake.”
“Fluttershy, good to see you dear, the usual?”
16:55. Illusion stable. Test continuing.
“Just a small lemon water if that’s ok.”
“That bad?”
Fluttershy squeaked out a response that even Twilight’s pickup was unable to register. Mrs. Cake clearly didn’t catch the response but allowed the yellow pegasus her privacy, bringing the lemon water in silence.
“I’m terribly sorry, dear; something in the back needs my attention. Watch the front for me, darling.”
16:56. Thermal distributions indicate subject has an abnormal amount of blood in facial region. Possible indication of blushing.
16:57. Consumption of lemon water invalidates salivary readings. Subject is removing a book from her saddlebags.
Fluttershy withdrew a book about caring for feather loss in birds and took another sip of her lemon water.
Subject appears to be smelling the book. Air flow patterns confirm this. Subject is smiling.
17:08. Pupil dilation increasing. Retinal focus decreasing. Respiratory rate changing. Conjecture: Subject is entering a daydream. Content of dream unknown.
18:17. Subject is still dreaming. Fascinating. Periodic releases of breath indicate subject occasionally sighs. No clear pattern has emerged. Closer analysis of sighs is warranted. No more clues about content of dream have emerged. Ideally, brain imaging should be done while dreaming. Subject is ignoring outside world. Lemon water remains at 90% of starting volume. Subject has not partaken since dream began. Heart rate is holding steady.
18:20. No, Spike, I don’t know what the title of the book is. Why would that matter? She is clearly not reading it. Retinal tracking and pupil fixing confirm that. She is using the book as cover to conceal herself. Wait, are you writing this down? No, you only write down my observations - I was answering your question, which is not an observation. Ok, fine, if you will stop asking, the book is… A pause while Twilight studied the display. The book appears to be An Introductory Primer to Feather Loss by Mare Mareton. Yes, there is the receipt I gave her when she checked it out last week. The book has nothing to do with the matter at hand. Now get back to writing my observations.
Fluttershy snapped back to reality with a jerk at the tinkling sound of the bell on the door. She shut the book with such force that a cloud of dust was expelled, causing her to cough. She covered it by taking a long draw on her drink.
“You were thinking about her again, weren’t you?” Rainbow Dash wore a conspiratorial smile.
Fluttershy squeaked out a reply. While it was not understandable verbally, her reaction told more than enough.
“You were!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed with a wicked grin.
Fluttershy tried to shrink down into her chair, her mane obscuring her face.
18:31. Subject RD1 has arrived and is engaging subject FS1 is conversation. Visual readings are obscured by subject’s mane. Conjecture: Subject RD1 knows the identity of subject FS1’s infatuation. Strong biological readings indicate embarrassment on the part of FS1.
Subject RD1’s continued onslaught of questions was interrupted by Mrs. Cake returning from the back room.
“Rainbow Dash!” Her words were not harsh, but still distracted Rainbow Dash from her quarry. “What can I get for you?” She liked Fluttershy, and had been lurking in the back room so that she could have her peace. She was clearly over the moon for some poor young colt, and Mrs. Cake remembered when she was that young, and had just met Carrot Cake. One of her fondest memories was sitting in a shop much like this, staring deep into his eyes, and being the happiest filly in all Equestria. Fluttershy was such a nice filly; whoever the lucky colt was, it was none of her business. And more to the point, it was none of Rainbow Dash’s business.
Fluttershy packed up her book, laid a bit down on the table, and departed while Rainbow was agonizing over whether to have the Pan-Equestria Muzzle Blaster or the Righteous Rainbow Reverberator. Both looked delicious, and by the time she had made her selection, she noticed Fluttershy was gone.
Subject FS1 Observational Analysis: All factors designate that the subject is experiencing infatuation with unknown subject. Possibly female. Further study is warranted. Current data does not document symptoms when subject is face to face with target of affection. This data is crucial to further understanding of love.
7:18. Day Three. Experimental parameters as per Days 1 and 2. Subject has left staging area. Baseline vital readings within standard deviation of previous records. Illusion holding. All systems nominal.
7:43. Subject is distributing feed to animals. Vital readings indicate that subject is experiencing a reaction similar to that of being in love. Key differences are highlighted and should be examined further.
18:54. Subject keeps heading for town and then turning back. During these periods, subject’s vitals show subject may be experiencing nervousness. When she turns back, vitals fall, indicating relief. Conjecture: Subject is attempting to confront her love but does not for unknown reasons.
Hayfeathers! She is heading back to the library. I thought this time she would confront that pony! Twilight’s curses were delivered in a flat tone, betraying only the faintest hint of possible emotion.
Resigning herself to discovering the secrets of love some other day, Twilight powered down the data feeds and went upstairs.
Spike finished up his records and filed them away. He was happy to help Twilight, but this was a lot less fun than it had been. Originally, there had been a thrill of watching ponies go about their lives. But now it was just tedious. Twilight seemed possessed and would spend hours poring over the scrolls. The lab, normally neat and tidy except for her desk, was a wasteland of dirty dishes, discarded quills, empty ink pots, and half-eaten sandwiches. The shelves were now covered by scrolls plotting skin conductivity over time and various other unknowable things. Sighing, he hoped this would be over soon. If I see one more cup of coltsfoot tea, I am going to…
Upstairs, Twilight put on a brave face. It was not Fluttershy’s fault; her friend was trying as hard as she could. Idly, Twilight wondered how long Fluttershy had hidden this secret crush. “It couldn’t have been long; I would have noticed something. Something to look into.” There she was, standing on the doorstep, just waiting. Twilight opened the door for her. She jumped back in surprise, her hoof poised just about to knock. “Don’t have a heart attack! It’s just me. Whom did you expect to open the door?”
Fluttershy gave no audible response, instead hiding her face under her mane and trotting inside.
“Let’s get this all off you.” Twilight dismissed the illusion and began to detach the primary flux relay.
From beneath her mane came a whisper, “Twilight there is something I really need to tell you.”
“Of course, I am listening; just let me get this caliper uncaliped.”
Fluttershy mumbled something.
“I am sorry I didn’t catch any of that. Could you puff out your chest for just a sec I need to unclip this.”
“Did you get the data you needed? Did I do I good job? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” This response didn’t sound anything like what Fluttershy had originally said, but Twilight was too busy puzzling over why the magnetometer coil was still reading 1.17 nT to notice.
“You did perfectly. I feel we’re really close to finding what we need.” She thought to herself, Fluttershy was always so nervous when she got back.
Downstairs, a blinking light caught Spike’s eye. He moved a pile of scrolls and saw that the blood pressure gauge, respiratory rate meter, and numerous other readouts were pegged. He had never seen this level of reaction. He raced upstairs to tell Twilight. He didn’t understand fully what it all meant, but whatever was happening was important - the whirling dials and flashing lights made that clear.
Even as his mouth opened, he saw Fluttershy’s dreamy expression. Twilight was decoupling the breathing strap and Fluttershy was taking the chance to gaze deep into the back of her head. He didn’t need a single one of Twilight’s sensors to tell him that Fluttershy was head over hooves in love. In that moment, he knew that he could say nothing. Nothing at all.
Author’s note: Same as always, all comments are more than welcome.
Version 3.0.
Too Intelligent to be Loved
Chapter 4: Interpolation
“Many things - such as loving, going to sleep, or behaving unaffectedly - are done worst when we try hardest to do them.”
Angel stood there.
“Please stop looking at me like that.”
The bunny’s ear flopped down.
“I know, I know.”
He selected a carrot and nibbled off the tip.
“Ok, you win, I will go see him. But it is awfully dark out. Maybe I should…”
Another bite.
“Are you sure you will be ok? Alone here? I mean, I won’t be gone long.”
He looked down at the pile of carrots spilling out of his bowl.
“Alright then. Don’t stay up late and don’t eat too fast; you will get an upset tummy. I will be back soon.”
Angel finished his carrot, watched her leave, and selected another.
The climb up the stairs to her room was longer than Twilight remembered. Each step took more effort than she remembered. Her hooves felt heavier than she remembered.
A glance at the gravity meter confirmed that the planet had not gained appreciable mass since yesterday, and according to the scale, she had lost weight since starting her sandwich and tea diet. So there was no reason for her to experience a larger force due to gravity.
The gravitational constant must have changed, she thought to herself with a huge yawn. In the morning I will find a spell to put it right. Another huge yawn. That could cause major problems if left... She never finished the thought as opening the door required all her mental prowess.
Finally, after a heroic defense, the door surrendered and graciously allowed her into her room.
“Fluttershy, what brings ya out this late?” As Big Mac said this, he stepped aside and beckoned the yellow pegasus inside.”
“Angel told me I should come see you.”
Big Mac accepted this without comment, instead ushering her into the kitchen.
“Sorry to be such a bother, did I wake you?” She took her usual seat at the table and gave her usual apology.
“No matter, Ah was jus’ readin’ this book from Twilight.” He gestured to the couch where a candle sat burning next to a copy of Greatness Feels Good: An Analysis of Narcissism.
“Oh, is it any good?” The pony on the cover stood staring into a mirror, transfixed by his own reflection. Fluttershy shuddered; for a second, she thought it had looked at her.
In way of answering, Big Mac passed the book to her. She took it and read the back cover. It didn’t strike her as particularly interesting, but what did was the corner of a photograph that was being used as a bookmark. A quick flip and she was ready to open to the marked page.
“Tea’s ready,” Big Mac said as he deftly traded a cup and saucer for the book.
“Why thank you,” she took the tea for which she had not asked. She never had to ask for tea. He always seemed to know exactly what blend suited her mood. Tonight he had selected a mild yellow tea and added a touch of honey.
The room was exactly how Twilight had left it, except that somepony had made the bed and restocked the candles. One ignited and floated along with her, suspended in a lavender field.
“It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness,” she read from the inscription set around the candleholder, and frowned, but didn’t know why. She was the one who had put the inscription there, and remembered its meaning something, but precisely what, she didn’t know.
She was saved having to ponder such an existential riddle by the sight of the blankets. Her hoof could barely squeeze under the tightly stretched cloth. Centimeter by centimeter, she wiggled into the shelter. She felt safe here. The tight cocoon was almost the tender embrace of a loved one.
She looked up and felt a pang of sadness. She didn’t know it, but she was looking for her mother and father standing over her, tucking her tightly into bed. The memory was too old, too faded.
Big Mac assumed his normal place at the table across from Fluttershy and waited. She took a sip of the tea.
“I hope I didn’t wake anypony up; I know you all have to be up so early.”
“No, no, this family couldna be roused by a pack of stampedin’ buffalo. The snorin’s so bad Ah couldna git a wink if Ah wanted ta.” Big Mac covered his lie with the utmost ease and a gentle snort. The real reason he was still awake had nothing to do with Applejack’s impersonation of a chainsaw, and everything to do with a certain unicorn.
“Oh, good.”
He watched her take another sip of tea. It was probably too hot for her, but she made no comment. His expression was one of total neutrality, not even a hint of curiosity at her showing up at his door at one in the morning. Some nights, they would sit there for hours without either saying a word. Finally, the call of the rooster would dispel the moment, Big Mac would take her saucer, and she would depart in silence. Tonight would not be such a night. He could tell.
With a mighty effort, Twilight wrenched loose the covers from the left side of the bed, then with another jerk broke loose the opposite side. The bottom quivered, still pressed in place by the mattress. A swift jerk relegated the material to its rightful position. So prepared, she rolled back and forth until she was completely encased in the folds.
Her head found the pillow, and its cool smoothness promised a swift flight to the land of oblivion. Once more she looked up and saw the candle floating there, a silent nimbus of light. She pantomimed blowing it out and her magic extinguished it. Before the darkness could rush in, she had her eyes clamped shut.
Guiding the candle ever so slowly, she brought it to rest on the bedside table. A little more to the left, a nudge more, morrree, and there. The telekinetic force abruptly cut off, depositing the candle almost in the exact center of a painted target. In the morning, that would normally be a source of pride.
Mentally she relaxed each muscle. Her withers unknotted themselves as her eyes went slowly from tightly clenched to merely shut. “Breathe, in and out. That’s right, in and out.” Fluttershy’s voice was there, soothing her. She could almost feel her friend there stroking her mane and quietly intoning, “In and out.”
Slowly she began to retreat from the waking world, at last detaching herself from the mortal plane…
After an indeterminate amount of time Fluttershy spoke up, “Mac, I need some advice.”
The red stallion looked on passively.
“It’s about, well you know, Twilight.”
“Do ya love her?”
The pegasus blushed and took a sip of her beverage, now long cold. The tea seemed to fortify her and she responded, “Yes, I do, with all my heart, more than anything else.”
“Then ya should tell her.” His response was so quick and definitive that it gave her pause.
“Just like that? What if she doesn’t…”
“Ah can’t promise she will feel th’ same way. But wut Ah can promise is that ya won’ know until ya tell her.”
Without her noticing, he had refilled her cup. She took a sip and pondered his words. It was a long time before she spoke again.
“What if she isn’t into fillies? What if she thinks I am some sort of freak? What if this ruins our friendship? What if she hates me because of this? Or says she never wants to see me again?”
“Then ya will know. But ain’t that better’n sittin’ here wonderin’? Besides, I don’ think Miss Twilight would say anythin’ like that.”
She looked on dubiously.
“Shy, remember when ya were all worried ‘bout Miss Dash? Worried she would hate you because ya couldna fly fast? What did Ah tell ya then?”
“You told me to talk to her and if she didn’t like me then it was her loss. But Mac, this is so much different.”
“Ah ain’t finished. Remember when ya wanted to go ta Miss Pie’s party? But were too afraid about dancing? What did Ah tell ya then?”
“You told me to try, but this is completely…”
“Who said ya would be good as a bear chiropractor?”
Fluttershy mumbled out, “You did.”
“Even when th’ instructor told ya wouldna make it past th’ first day. Who said ya would be th’ best?”
“You did”
“And Ah was right, weren’t Ah?”
“Maybe, I wouldn’t say the best…”
…Drifting slowly into the world of nod, Twilight let out a small sigh. But, unbidden and unwelcome, a voice rose up. It was calm and reasonable, but carried a self-assured timbre. “What is Spike hiding?”
Whereas she had been previously floating away, she now fell back into her body, feeling the mortal aches rush back. Her eyes screwed up tight trying to fight back to the lost world, but this only made the large quantity of sand in them cut deeper. Her flanks throbbed, reporting their displeasure with sitting in that chair all day, again. Her head pounded and she could feel a pulse at her temples. Every cell reported in. All fully awake, and each screaming its status. The voice retreated, waiting patiently for its prey to tire itself out.
She rolled over and willed herself back to sleep. “Throb, throb…” went her flanks, entirely unconcerned about her demands. She rolled over again and withdrew a hoof from its chrysalis to beat the pillow into a more comfortable position. “Go to sleep!”
“Throb, throb, throb, throb…”
She flipped the pillow and again felt the soothing iciness. But now the blankets were twisted. With a grunt, she righted them, and then beat the pillow some more with her head.
“Throb, throb, throb, throb…”
They sat there in silence, Fluttershy contemplating Big Mac’s words.
“Just like that? Just tell her?”
“Eeyup. Just like that”
“Just come out and tell her, ‘Twilight I am madly in love with you!’ That doesn’t seem a bit over the top?”
“Ah wouldna use th’ word ‘madly,’ but yup.”
Twilight’s tongue joined her traitorous body parts in announcing that it was parched to a level never before seen. According to current scouting reports, all the moisture in her body was currently located in her bladder.
The voice saw its chance and struck again. “He is acting weird, like he always does when he has a huge secret. What could it be this time?”
“Throb, throb, throb, throb…”
Twilight lay there, knowing the battle had been lost, but determined not to give up without a fight.
After an indeterminate period of time, the losses became unsustainable. Her bladder and tongue finally accepted the terms of her surrender, and the candle flicked back into life, rising from its spot. The battle may be lost, but what her body did not know was that she was prepared this time. She climbed out of the battle strewn wasteland that was her bed, and tended to the needs of the victors.
When she returned, feeling much better, she carried a glass of water. Her tongue was confused, and asked her stomach, “You aren’t telling her she’s still thirsty are you?”
“No, are you?”
“No, then why does she have that glass?”
“Maybe for when we tell her she’s thirsty in the middle of the night.”
“Clever, clever filly. I always knew she was clever.”
But what neither her tongue, nor her stomach, nor even her bladder knew was that Twilight was far more clever than they realized. “Not tonight,” she spoke aloud with a savage grin, “Tonight I do what I should have done in the first place,” she announced.
A hush fell broken only by, “Throb, throb, throb, throb…”
Fluttershy sat staring at the centerpiece, bringing the tea to her lips every so often. Big Mac rose from his seat and moved to kneel beside her. He turned her muzzle to face his. She made no effort to stop him and he looked intently into her bloodshot eyes.
“How long ‘ave we been friends? And how often ‘ave Ah given ya bad advice?”
“There was that one time with the viper scale tonic, and then the time with the dragon breath freshener herb…”
“In mah defense, the viper’s scales never looked better and th’ dragon’s breath was minty fresh.”
She gave a laugh, and the emotional barrier broke. “Oh Mac, I’m afraid.” she was crying now, the entire evening’s emotions released in a torrent.
“Have a little faith, have a little faith,” he said as he took her head and held it against him.
She cried on his shoulder and he stroked her mane. Slowly, the sun’s rays spread into the kitchen, and he heard motion from the upstairs rooms.
“Can ya do that? Can ya have some faith?”
He got no reply, save a gentle snore.
From the desk, Twilight withdrew a white stoppered bottle and proceeded to read the extensive label carefully. With great solemnity two white ovals ascended from the bottle. She read the label one more time, resealed the foal-proof cap, and returned the bottle.
“She isn’t? Is she?”
“She wouldn’t! They scare her! Remember when she tried that sleep spell?! She wouldn’t!”
She did.
This time the candle came to rest a considerable distance from its target before being quenched. Contently, Twilight once more flipped her pillow, knowing that the pills didn’t take effect quite this fast, and the calm she felt was merely a placebo effect. But that didn’t change the fact she was calm. Her fear was gone, a casualty of the war. Her eyes stood defiantly open, waiting for the chemical bliss.
With the new found calm, she turned to the voice’s question. Now that her mind was no longer clouded with desperation, the question seemed important. “Why was Spike acting so funny?” She couldn’t remember when he started but it was around the time she had just started the Fluttershy tests. “Yes,” her mind cast itself back, “There was that one morning when Spike went missing for a couple of hours. He didn’t go see Rarity like I thought, because Rarity was gone, where?” Her muzzle screwed up, pondering. “That was only two weeks ago; why can’t I remember?” For a couple of minutes, she floated there wondering, gently rolling the query around.
“Oh yes, she went out for that… fashion… thing.” Twilight told herself that she didn’t remember the name because it was fashion, something that made no sense. She liked Rarity, but no matter how many times she explained it, Twilight still couldn’t understand why an astronomically correct cape was not “in.”
“Sure, it needs to be large and round, but that just means everypony can see it and recognize all the constellations. Surely accuracy counted in the fashion world. But apparently not. What was I just thinking about? Something to do with Rarity. No, wait, something to do with Spike.” She felt slow, but that was only to be expected after all she had… Done what? It wasn’t important.
“So if Spike didn’t go see Rarity, what did he go do?” the voice prompted, knowing that this time it had been defeated by the chemical cocktail, but not wanting to cede the campaign.
“Ah yes...” But her synapses refused to cooperate. Tank could have given them lessons on breakneck speed. “He obviously…” A fog seemed to be filling her mind, gently brushing pesky thoughts out. “…” Her fear rose up, screaming that her mind was under attack. This was her greatest fear: losing her mind, being reduced to a simpering vegetable. She couldn’t think clearly! Her memories were not responding! The fog was prepared, and had already isolated the fear, preventing its warning cry from being heard. Then the fog slowly moved in…
“Speaking of those undisturbed by rampaging buffalo, ” Big Mac thought as he carried the unconscious Fluttershy upstairs into the spare bedroom. It was made up just for this situation and many a night had Fluttershy spent in it. He laid her down on the mattress and got out her favorite flower-patterned quilt. The dresser drawer squeaked, and he cursed.
“Ah need ta fix that,” he reminded himself for the fourth or fifth time. He draped the blanket over her and tucked her in, pausing to brush her mane out of her eyes. Then he blew out the candle and drew down the curtains, before retreating downstairs.
“If Ah move right quick, Ah can check on her animals and be back before the sun’s really up.” He grabbed a hoofful of oats, scolding Applebloom for being noisy when they had guests, and was out the door.
A certain photograph was tucked into his saddlebags.
“If only it really was that easy. Just tell her ya love her. Ah don’t even know where she is. And she probably doesn’t even know me.”
Angel stood waiting for him when he opened the door.
“Now don’t ya give me that look.”
Author’s note: Comments, criticisms, questions are all welcome. I am trying to improve as a writer, so don’t hold back.
Version 3.0.
Too Intelligent to be Loved
Chapter 5: Preparation
Author’s note: I have done a major revision of chapter 4. So if you have not read a conversation between Big Mac and Fluttershy you need to go back. Thanks and enjoy.
The Best Laid Schemes of Mice and Stallions oft go awry.
Twilight woke up with the plan clearly formed in her mind. “It is so simple, so beautiful. It could work. It would work. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? ” She felt amazing. Slightly fuzzy, but amazing nonetheless. The plan was perfect and so simple in execution. She marveled at it.
“How long have I been asleep? ” Her legs were stiff and she was still clearing gunk from her eyes. Magically, the curtains flew open and she basked in the light. ”The whole night? ” She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in months. Amazing. No more restless nights, not with benzodiazepine. Things that altered her mental state scared her. But look at what the sleeping pills had done. “I feel perfectly fine. It just shows that it is not always dangerous. When used carefully, mind-affecting spells can be used safely.” And that was the basis of her plan.
All that was left was to carry it out.
You are cordially invited to Twilight Sparkle’s Night of Science.
Location: Ponyville Library
Time: 6:00:00 Standard Equestria Time, December 23
Scheduled events:
Live Music
Astronomical Observations
All-You-Can-Titrate
Dancing
Telescope Calibration
Mathematical Paradoxes
Guess-that-Mold Culture
Apple-Bobbing
Quiet Reading
Ask a Particle Physicist
Trivia Pursuit
Keynote Lecture about the Kelvin-Helmholtz Interaction’s Role in Early Star Formation
Please RSVP to Twilight Sparkle at the Ponyville library
Celestia looked at the plain white scroll with plain black words and realized that Twilight was up to something. This smacked of her last thinly disguised ‘concerned citizen’ letter. ”Parties are a great way to meet ponies, but this ‘party’ will only attract ponies like…”
“Celestia! Celestia! Didst Thou get one too?” The incarnation of night dashed into the room waving a plain white scroll. “Thou didst! I mean, you did! This is great! We cannot wait! Astronomical Observations! Telescope Calibration! And Trivia Pursuit! This should be a detonation! Is that the right wording? This should be a detonation?”
“’This should be a blast’ is more commonly used.”
“I do NOT EVEN know what TRIVIA PURSUIT is! But if it is anything like bobbing FOR APPLES we know it will be TOTALLY THE explosive!” Luna was slipping in and out of the traditional Canterlot voice, and it was giving Celestia a headache.
“Bomb, it will be totally the bomb.” The elder alicorn sighed inwardly, I knew I should never have gotten her 1001 Idioms and Colloquialisms.
“Please tell me we are going! I mean A LECTURE about early STAR formation! Talk ABOUT THE bee’s whiskers!”
Celestia didn’t bother to correct her. Instead she smiled, “I think a royal appearance would be justified. I will tell Twilight we would be delighted to attend. Now you’d best go brush up on your mold culture identification. A lot in the fungal world has changed in 1000 years. You don’t want to be caught unprepared, do you?”
“Thanks! Ohhh, We, I, cannot wait! Titration! Tranquility out!”
“Peace out. Peace out,” Celestia called wearily after her sister, not knowing if she heard. “Peace out, the bomb? I really need to put a stop to this before she wrecks the entire royal appearance.”
She didn’t really mean it. Having Luna back and learning to say things like “peace out” and “it’ll be a blast” filled her with delight. The indigo alicorn tackled everything with a child-like spirit and indefatigable enthusiasm. ”Reminds me of a certain other mare. Speaking of which. I need to… broaden… the scope of this little party. Subtly, of course.”
Spitfire nervously trotted into the throne room. She had met the Princess plenty of times, but was always anxious when around her alone. Everyday formal situations were easy. As captain of the Wonderbolts, she just had to act like she could walk on the clouds, which she could, of course. Brag a bit about her exploits, thank them for complimenting her skills, “It was nothing,” talk about flying, generally be everything ponies expected a captain of the Wonderbolts to be. The public ate that up. But something about the Princess made her think she could see right through it.
“Spitfire, thank you for seeing me.”
That right there. Princesses didn’t thank anypony for seeing them. YOU thanked Princesses for being allowed to see THEM.
“Oh, no problem… your honor.”
YOUR HONOR?! She is a princess not a judge! Despite the horror filling her head at her words she was able to keep a cool expression. Or at least she thought she was.
“Your last show was as spectacular as ever. I especially liked the Gravity Bender, it was most illuminating.”
You have answered exactly this a thousand times. Just say ‘thank you, it was nothing.’
“Thank you, I am glad I de-darked you.” Kill me now. Just kill me now.
“No need to look so tense; I just called you in here to ask a favor. I understand you are about to head back to Manehattan, and was wondering if you could make a stop in Ponyville. Nothing serious - I just want this done with discretion. Can I trust you... Captain?”
Favor? Princesses don’t ask for favors; they give orders. And I am not tense, not at all; this is my ‘nothing-whatsoever-could-possibly-bother-me expression.’ And calling me Captain? She is enjoying this. I just know it!
“Anything for you.”
“I will keep that in mind,” she smiled, and continued, “but for now I just want you to take this to Big Macintosh at Sweet Apple Acres.” She passed over a large, heavy pouch. “Tell him I want his best, and I want it delivered promptly to the Ponyville library by five o’clock on the 23rd. Thank you. I hope I can count on your prudence in this matter. Oh, and tell Twilight that my sister and I would be happy to attend.”
The bag was of course full of bits. She didn’t open it, but the clinking jangle was unmistakable. Maybe I should check out this party on the 23rd Like everypony in Equestria, it seemed, she got an invitation. And also like most, she had discarded it almost immediately.
A night of science? Telescope calibration? Mold identification? Sounds boring. But then she felt the pouch again and thought of its recipient. The big red apple farmer was famous. You went to the rest of the Apple family for apples. You went to him for only one thing. With This many bits, you could buy eighty barrels. She took off and set course for Ponyville. Eighty barrels of Mac’s best? I feel tipsy just thinking about it. Definitely worth checking out.
The Princess smiled. Too easy. Far too easy. Two birds, one seed. Luna was muttering while reading through Mycology for Ponies. Too easy indeed - time for the next move.
“Note: Pon-3 studios will be closed the 23rd – 24th for fungal fumigation. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
-Canterlot Health Advisory
“Way too easy.” True, she had already booked DJ Pon-3 for the party, and so there was technically no need to spray for fungi. Vinyl Scratch would keep her word and not tell a soul about where she was going. Her crew could be trusted, probably. But this way it was a mystery. No pony could help but notice that the club just so happened to be closed on the 23rd. And that all the equipment was being crated up and shipped out. And several first class pegasus-air tickets had been purchased, at the last minute, to Ponyville.
It was almost as hard to miss as the Wonderbolts’ stopping in Ponyville for an extended layover. Or Big Mac beginning to move unmarked barrels to the Ponyville library.
It was a conspiracy. Ponies loved nothing more than a conspiracy. And spraying for fungi never hurt.
“Too easy. Time to let the wildfire spread.”
And spread it did.
Spike was less impressed with the plan. “That sounds like a really bad idea.”
“Nonsense, you will be there monitoring the whole thing.”
“If you say so.”
“This could be my best plan ever! Nothing could possibly go wrong.”
“If you say so.”
“Look, there’s Derpy with the mail! She must be carrying my first RSVP’s! I cannot wait! That’s funny, I’ve never seen her use a cart before. Several carts?”
Too Intelligent to be Loved
Outliers
Chapter 6: Outliers
“Now those memories come back to haunt me. They haunt me like a curse.”
The town was peaceful. Not really, but it looked that way from where Big Mac was sitting. From his barrel perch, he watched the ponies scurry about. Party preparations were being done at just under panic level. Come to think of it, Big Mac wasn’t sure exactly how what was being done differed from panic. But from here he couldn’t hear their cries, and their frantic scampering looked somehow comical.
He had been invited to the party, of course, and was planning on attending.
Now as he sat and gazed down on the commotion, he regretted telling Twilight he would be there. This was not a small, quiet social gathering between friends. It may have been originally. But it wasn’t now.
He had a fairly good idea who had placed the order for eighty-three barrels of his aged cider. Not just anypony can use the captain of the Wonderbolts as their personal messenger. And not many have the kind of money to pay for it all in one lump sum.
The bag bearing the insignia “H.R.H.” just confirmed it. Why exactly the somewhat anonymous benefactor wanted to ensure the merrymaking was well supplied with alcohol, he couldn’t fathom. In the end it didn’t matter. The money would enable him to repair all the roofs on the farm.
Celestia was a curious enigma to him. He had met her once, and walked away with the distinct impression she was privy to a joke nopony else knew. Everything he expected a Princess to be - royal, prim, upright - was completely lacking in her. If she wished, she could be the very image of royalty, but he got the feeling it was nothing more than a façade. He pressed the thoughts out of his head and gazed around at the preparations.
Under the Mayor’s watchful eye, townsfolk were setting up traffic control points now. The Cutie Mark Crusaders were playing in the mountain of RSVP’s that buried Twilight’s mailbox. At first, the letters had been carted off, but the inflow soon made the folly of this clear. Now it was a sledding pile.
Mac would have given a great deal to have seen Twilight’s expression when the first cart dumped its contents on her lawn.
But unfortunately he was across town getting the last of the cider, and by the time he was back, Twilight was locked in her lab “preparing.” He waited outside, guarding the alcoholic stockpile from adventurous colts eager to try the intoxicating drink, and hoping to get a word with Twilight. But as the fatal hour approached and more and more ponies streamed into town, he took his leave.
It wasn’t his scene. It was too loud, too chaotic. Already it brought back painful memories.
His job was done; the cider was delivered, on schedule. Already a crowd was forming around the stage. It had not been announced who would be performing, but the large trailers bearing the familiar logo of DJ Pon-3 were parked suspiciously close. Mac eyed the speakers with ill-concealed contempt. Soon they would be blaring and ponies would be flailing. All the excitement, all the energy - he’d best be well away from it.
The rooftop was waiting. Up there he was alone. Nopony would bother him. He could watch the snow fall in peace.
With a grunt, he pulled up the ladder and stowed it. Once under the eaves, he leaned back against the wall. His coat blended in with the barn and he was nearly invisible. Not even a determined search by the Weather Patrol would find him.
Finally, he was alone.
For a long time Mac sat there with his battered photo and memories.
Eventually he would have to return to the party. He had told Twilight that he would be there. But that was not really the reason he would show up. Mac had to be there to right a wrong. Not so much to right a wrong - more to prevent a wrong from happening, to ensure somepony did what he hadn’t done all those years ago: save Fluttershy from suffering his fate.
Fluttershy was more than a friend to him; she was kin.
He would kill or die defending her from any and all foes. In this case, he was powerless to defend his sister. All he could do was be on hand and be supportive. Give her the courage to tell Twilight what she felt. Mac knew from experience that telling somepony “I love you” was one of the hardest sentences possible to utter.
Mac didn’t think Twilight would be cruel, but she was naïve, and with naivety came danger. No matter what happened, he wanted to be there.
He hoped, beyond hope, that Twilight would say nothing and instead wrap her arms around Fluttershy. Both of them deserved it. Then he could slink off back to his rooftop, his duty done and his sister safe. But if necessary he would be a shoulder to cry on, an older brother in her time of need.
Maybe if somepony had been there, all those years ago, he would have had the courage required to speak that unspeakable sentence.
The last two weeks had been the most emotionally trying time of Spike’s life. Twilight loved her unanswerable puzzles but Spike couldn’t see the appeal. When he saw Fluttershy gazing at Twilight, it seemed right to keep silent. Noble, even. But that feeling had not lasted beyond destroying the records.
You must tell her! You cannot keep this big a secret! Part of him screamed for action; the other said he would be crazy to try anything. What would you say? What could you say? ”Hey, Twilight, FYI it’s you that Fluttershy is pining for. So, good luck with that. I am going to make a sandwich. Want one?”
He considered talking to Fluttershy about the situation, but immediately rejected that idea. If someone knew he was smitten with Rarity and talked to him about it, he would die of embarrassment. He couldn’t do that to Fluttershy, and if anything, that conversation would be even more awkward than just talking to Twilight.
Every day he helped Twilight search for Fluttershy’s love. Every day they recorded Fluttershy’s reactions to various things. And every day he wondered if his course was the right one. It was a good thing Twilight never bothered to look at the notes he was taking. Because he already had the answer, the entire exercise seemed pointless. Most were doodles. Am I right? Should I tell her? Can I tell her? This was the clearest example of a no-win situation Spike had yet seen. His options seemed to be universally bad. Telling her would be catastrophic. Not telling her would be a long, slow, ongoing disaster.
The best solution would be to somehow “nudge” Twilight in the right direction, but he was at a complete loss for how to begin even attempting such a course of action.
And so he did nothing. He pretended he hadn’t been cursed with the knowledge.
As Spike wracked himself for a solution that was looking more and more fanciful, Twilight continued her experiments. He considered the entire experiment an endeavor in futility. However, she was not discouraged by the lack of results. If anything, she became more obsessive. Then yesterday she woke up late and came to lunch with her mane still tangled from sleep. Instead of the usual bags under her eyes, there was a wild gleam in them. Spike had heard of the expression “the clarity only true madness can bring,” but never really understood it until now.
Her plan at least sounded scientific. But it also sounded like it could go horribly wrong. The biggest problem he saw with it was that it could work. It could really work. She could really find out that Fluttershy was madly in love with her. There was no telling what would happen then.
She had not changed after all those years. Literally not one hair in her mane was any different. And yet she was getting worn around the edges; a crease ran through her left ear and there was a water stain on her muzzle. And yet she was as beautiful as ever.
Reverently, Mac unsealed the bag and withdrew his lost love. Every feature of her was irrevocably committed to his mind. Perfect, clear eyes. Wonderful, cascading mane. Quick, astonishing mind. Laugh, smile, coat, everything. He didn’t need the picture to remember her. A two-dimensional celluloid representation couldn’t hope to capture her infectious laugh, her smile, or the knowing glimmer in her eyes. It was like trying to ensnare a warm summer breeze in a bottle. The picture was to remember how she had been.
How she had been before he had hurt her.
His last sight of her was also burned into his memory. She had turned back to him and said she never wanted to see him again.
“Ah understand that you hate me. Ya should. Ah just want you to know Ah’m so sorry, dear Celestia, Ah am so sorry.” He spoke the words of his heart into the cold night air.
“Ok Angel, tonight is the night. Tonight I tell her.” I think. Fluttershy’s reflection stared back from the mirror, checking for any hairs amiss in her mane.
The hare remained silent, watching her primp.
“I know I’ve said that before. But tonight I mean it.” I think. She gave a final pat to correct an errant hair and stepped back, turning to face the bunny.
The hare continued to remain silent.
“Ok, maybe I’ve also said that before. But tonight is different.” I hope. Her confidence lasted until she opened the door. As she prepared to cross the threshold a small part of her recognized the symbolism. Angel scrunched up at the cold from the open door.
Here goes. She inhaled deeply and took a step forward. As she did, she unconsciously tugged at her mane, ruining her immaculate styling job that Rarity would have found admirable. The same small part of her recognized the symbolism of the now closed door.
“Do you mind if I join you up here?”
Mac jumped and wheeled to face the speaker. It sounds just like…, but it can’t be…
It was.
“M'lady!” Mac fell into an automatic deep bow at the sight of the ruler of Equestria, and almost fell off the roof.
“Big Macintosh,” Princess Celestia said calmly, “There really is no need to bow. I’m not here on official business. And besides, if you aren’t careful you might just verify the gravitational constant in a most painful manner.”
“Yer really here. It’s really you. Ah mean, your majesty!” How she had got up here without his noticing was a mystery to him, but he would have to solve that problem later.
“Yes, it is I.” She seemed mildly amused that he would have any doubt.
His eyes traced over her, taking in the wings, horn, mane, imperial jewelry, and regal pose. It all checked out. Sure enough, standing on top of the roof in front of him was the rightful monarch of the land. Celestia, THE Princess, herself, is on my rooftop. Celestia, is on my rooftop. Right now. Celestia, the Princess…
“I hope I am not interrupting anything. Is now a good time to talk?”
Surprise and confusion made answering her impossible at this current juncture. The fact that the Princess was asking if a royal visit was inconvenient did not fit with any version of reality with which Mac was familiar. All Mac’s processing power was being diverted to attempting to make sense of the situation.
I need data. Brain, retrieve files related to Princess Celestia. It responded with, “Running,” and after a fraction of a second that seemed to take an eternity, it returned every detail Mac knew about Celestia. Sort by relevance to today. He spent several seconds sifting through the information while Celestia looked on patiently. The data was clear but nonetheless he checked it several times. Then he spent several more seconds marshaling his courage to speak. Celestia stared out at the town giving him his time. Finally he was ready.
“Ma’am, intending no disrespect, but ya said ya couldn’t come to the party.” That makes her either a liar or a delusion. “Ya had some last-minute meeting with a Dragon Council or somethin’.” He knew exactly what she had told Twilight, but felt that sounding a little unsure about it was the best course of action, just in case. Can a phantasm banish me to the moon?
“I am arbitrating a dispute between the United Dragon Union and the Imperial Griffon Empire. Once again the two sides are threatening to go to war over a territorial dispute. At my bequest they are meeting one last time, and with any luck we will be able to reach a peaceful settlement. The fact that both sides are sitting down and talking is a very promising sign. The last such ‘conference’ ended with the Griffon' throwing water in the dragon ambassador’s face, who promptly set the table on fire. But we are making real progress and I think we can resolve this without any bloodshed.”
From what he had heard about these ”disputes,” he was unsure if any amount of talking would settle anything, but then he was unsure about everything surrounding this entire situation. She saved him from needing to provide an answer by continuing, “But I am not here to discuss the burdens of leadership; I am here for you.” She pointed a hoof at him as if to ensure there were absolutely no confusion about whom she was here to help.
Mac looked at the hoof, tracing with his eye to where it pointed. As he suspected, she was in fact pointing at him. The implications of that fact were staggering.
“Ya should be there. Stoppin’ a war and all. Ah’m just one pony.” The Princess herself came to Ponyville, just for him, rather than attend a peace conference. That fact was currently incomprehensible to him, and he was still not entirely convinced this wasn’t some sort of crazy apple-induced dream.
“Your concern for the peace of a region is commendable. But relax - we took an hour’s recess to cool off and take refreshments, so I thought I would stop by.” Her voice made it sound like she was popping in for a cup of coco and a chat about the latest Harry Colter book. “You know how dragons are if they don’t get their midnight snacks.”
Mac really didn’t know what hungry dragons were like, but he was willing to take her word that ravenous dragons weren’t the best negotiators. That part made sense. However, the rest...
“Ma’am, making no accusations, but Canterlot is a half-day’s flight.” He was surprised at his own daring for speaking those words. Did Ah just accuse the Princess of lying, again? Ah really hope this is a hallucination.
“You assume I flew.” She wore a cryptic smile.
“But if ya didn’t fly, then how…”
“Distance is a measurement between two points. The fastest route between two points is a straight line. I simply created a path that is straighter than a straight line. Crossing that distance is then foal’s play.”
He stared on dumbfounded; it sounded both incredibly easy and completely impossible. “Ya can do that?! That’s amazing!”
“Not really.” She seemed almost embarrassed about it. “It’s just unicorn magic, a simple teleportation spell. You must have noticed that Twilight Sparkle can. Granted, she is not ready to make the trip between Canterlot and Ponyville, but give her a few years. At her age, the fact that she can teleport at all is nothing short of incredible.” Pride for her student filled her words. All in all, an excellent deflection.
His brain had already gathered the relevant data and had already searched through all of it. But he searched through it again. He could find no mention of or even allusion to Celestia’s ever traveling by anything other than her chariot. The “Celestia is not real” position was gaining serious support. But on the off chance she was real; he gave faux-Celestia a chance to explain herself.
“Pardon me Ma’am, but if ya can materialize where you wish, why don’t ya? Why do ya always take that chariot?” He was able to keep his hooves from shaking while asking the question. There is a chance I am interrogating the Empress of Light.
“It’s strenuous.” This answer came immediately after Mac finished closing his mouth.
“Ah see.” If it’s so strenuous why did she just come down to see me? Things are not adding up. That settles it - she must be a hallucination. He reasoned all of this out dispassionately. His conclusion, though he didn’t like it, was inescapable. Which makes me crazy. He greeted the diagnosis with no discernable reaction. Emotion would come later. Now he was only glad that no, the ruler of Equestria was in fact not personally on top of his roof asking to speak to him. Ah guess that means Ah should go take a long nap and then go see Nurse Redheart. With this decision made, he turned to climb down. Ah would have thought madness would have felt different.
Her voice carried to him, unperturbed by his sudden decision to leave. “I hear you play a mean game of chess. Would you humor me with a quick game?”
Of all the responses for this vision to select, this one was so out-of-the-blue and so random it brought him up short. Upon turning, he saw pseudo-Celestia sitting in a comfortable chair. The sudden appearance of two chairs, a table, and a chess set cemented the notion that he was seeing things.
“I am afraid it has been a while since I last played, so I may be a little rusty.” If she was aware of Mac’s internal machinations, she made no sign of it.
He had to hoof it to his delusion - it had pulled out all the stops. The legs of the chairs and table were lengthened on one side so as to fit on the roof. They looked to have been taken right out of Granny’s sitting parlor, except for the rooftop modifications.
“Left or right.” She offered two closed hooves and a smile.
It doesn’t matter which I choose. He hated these binary decisions. He had no information on which to base a decision, so it was a random guess. But then again he thought, None of this is real, so it really doesn’t matter. She is not there. There is no chess board, no chess pieces, and no Celestia. Despite his brain’s assurance that Celestia was not there, he couldn’t help but answer the rightful monarch of his land.
“Right.” He always chose right, no matter how many times he was asked, and no matter how many times he agonized over which to choose, right was always his selection. It was comforting. Wait… If none of this matters I can choose whatever I like. “No, left, definitely left." He toyed with this idea, "I we be defiantly left.”
“Left it is.” She smiled at him, having made no motion to hand him his piece after his first answer. Slowly she opened her left hoof revealing the king of night.
Why am Ah still up here? None of this is real. Make your excuses and leave. “Ah am sorry, I must find...”
Before he could find a suitable answer she interrupted, “Come now, one quick game. It would mean a lot to me.” She tossed the king to him.
Automatically, he caught it. For a second he held the piece before the repercussions of physically holding it became clear.
Wait, if I am holding this, then that means that… “PPPPPrincess Celestia!” his knees gave way and he fell into a deep bow, lost his balance, and tumbled off the rooftop.
“Big Macintosh,” she replied, levitating him back onto the rooftop and into his seat. “As you can see, gravity is fine.”
“Your majesty.” It was all he could manage to say.
“Tell you what; let’s dispense with the formalities. I am not here on official business. We are just two ponies talking and I hope about to play a game of chess.” She retook her seat and placed her king on its square. “If you call me Celestia I will call you Mac. Deal?”
Numbly he shook her hoof.
Her words only confirmed what he now feared. As their hooves rose and fell in a handshake, she said, “I am real. You are not hallucinating.”
Atop a cliff overlooking Ponyville, a unicorn looked down at the lights. The city was nothing but bad memories for her. Nothing would please her more than to turn around and never lay eyes upon its cursed buildings again.
But Princess Celestia had offered ten times her usual fee to perform personally. The exorbitant bill had been paid without a flinch. That was all well and good but what was better was the fame that would accompany performing for the Princess alongside DJ Pon-3 and the Wonderbolts.
For such riches, she would just have to bear going down into that infernal town one last time. With a heavy sigh, she adjusted the carriage and started down the path. She had been hurt twice down in that tranquil valley. It was a pit of liars and hypocrites, so full of their own sacrosanct sense of righteousness.
Worse, he was down there somewhere.
Luna shut the mycology book and placed it atop her stack. Idly she looked over the titles. Since hearing of the party she had dedicated all of her free time to studying. But now as the party approached she found it impossible to focus. Finally she decided to brush up on titration. But Chemistry for Ponies didn’t hold the appeal it had held hours before. Before she reached the part about proper laboratory safety equipment she gave it up as a lost cause. The sun would set in a few more hours and she would set off for the party.
Pacing around the throne room helped her relax. Over and over she repeated the identifying characteristics of Aspergillus. She couldn’t help but admire Celestia as she lounged on her throne. Nothing seemed to perturb her. Minutes before the Dragon Collective had announced its willingness to negotiate. Celestia had just smiled and sent word to Twilight that she would be unable to attend the party. It was almost as if she was expecting it.
Luna’s heart sank at those words. As a princess she would be expected to attend the negotiations rather than the party. So much for Trivia Pursuit. Celestia had clinched this by explaining that while she wanted Luna there, neither party would accept the addition of another at the table. The Dragon Collective especially, based all trust on prior meetings and personal contact. She was confident Luna would be able to participate in future meetings, but she would have to sit out this first one.
. All in all the perfect solution. Luna was able to attend the party, but she still felt included and wanted. A small part of Luna wondered if the Dragon Collective really was as arrogant as Celestia made out.
Finally as Celestia rose and began preparing for the meeting Luna asked the question that had been bothering her, “You are just going to ask him to play a chess game with you?”
“Yes.” Celestia didn’t elaborate as she donned her jewelry and prepared to greet the ambassadors.
“But if he really is hurting as badly as you say he is, shouldn’t you do something about it?” Luna was confused; Celestia had explained the whole plot and intrigue, but it still didn’t make sense.
“He is miserable, but I am doing something about it. And not just for him. If everything goes according to plan tonight, his heart will not be the only one mended.” She checked her image in the mirror. Celestia hated the pomp and circumstance that attended her position. But if the ambassadors were going to treat the negotiations seriously, she had to look regal and commanding.
“But you are not doing anything directly.”
“Exactly.” She looked at her younger sister’s puzzled gaze and finished cryptically, “Have a little faith, Luna. When you treat a Manticore, you don’t waltz up and tear the thorn from its paw. You have to be gentle…”
“Alright, Spike, let’s go over it one more time.” Twilight kept pacing on her familiar rug, much to Spike’s annoyance.
Spike rolled his eyes. This would be the fourteenth time they had reviewed the plan. He could understand Twilight’s concern; the party had grown into an all-out bash with thousands of confirmed guests. Somehow DJ-Pon-3 and the Wonderbolts were coming. It was only natural that she wanted to ensure everything she could control was completely under control. He could understand it, but it was still annoying.
“Just sit here and watch the monitors. Make sure I don’t eat or drink anything. Make sure I don’t consume any alcohol. That is very important. I don’t want anything affecting the test results.” She continued to pace, waving a hoof idly, and naming off random steps. “Owlowicious has the letter. The suit is fully calibrated. The books are filed. Everything should be ready. Is the checklist complete?”
Spike checked the list and ensured that all the steps she named were in fact checked, several times. Once more he ran down the list and once more found all the boxes properly checked. “Yes, the list is complete.”
“Excellent, I guess that means we are ready.” This statement was not delivered with as much confidence as hoped.
Spike put a concluding check on the last box and gathered the numerous scrolls up. Unceremoniously he dumped them into a pile by the desk and took his seat. He had to move the seat all the way up to reach the screen. Everything was laid out and ready. He looked expectantly at Twilight.
“If you see a red light on this panel…”
“Twilight, I have it all written down here. There is no need to worry. Everything is under control.”
“Of course, of course. I guess that means it is time to go party.” She would have shown more enthusiasm for mucking out all of the Apple family’s barns.
“See you on the other side.” Spike poured a healthy measure of coco into his mug.
“Alright, any last questions?” Shadows danced around the room as her horn started to flicker and pulse.
Spike shook his head, accepting her stalling.
“Well I am off then.” Her words were lost in the gale of magical discharge. The only illumination left was the eerie glow from the monitors.
“19:06:37 Standard Equestria Time. Test begins.”
Author’s note: A special thanks to my editors. This chapter would be far worse without their guidance.
Knighty has still not corrected the rating bomb so if everyone could continue to rate that would be a huge help.
