The sound that echoed throughout the castle's empty hallways wasn't quite enough to wake Princess Celestia up, but it was enough to cause her to roll on to her side, one of her long, lean forelegs snaking out to find a fluffy pillow with which to smother her ears and drown out the syncopating noise. Her bare white hoof continued to tap out an irritated rhythm on the sweat-stained bedsheets, however. Slowly, Celestia felt the tiredness drain from her body as her ears continued to twitch in time to the unexpected clamour; it dawned on her – and a wry smile crossed her muzzle at that thought – that the sound was not likely to stop any time soon, so she ought to go and investigate its source. Pulling herself reluctantly up right, she stretched, working out the kinks that had formed in her back and legs.
I'm getting old, thought Celestia as she listened, her alicorn-enhanced senses working to quickly pin down the source of the commotion. From a few rooms down, there was an awful muffled, raspy noise. Igniting her horn, she levitated her dressing gown from its perch on the wall and donned it. It was done in a slightly darker shade from her coat, and the couturier had saw fit to emblazon it with a stylised depiction of her cutie mark. It was a sartorial flourish that she found somewhat self-aggrandizing, but the gown was comfy – the cotton equivalent to a gentle hug – so she bore it with good grace.
As she navigated the hallway, one ear still focused on the unusual sound, Celestia found her attention wandering to the various ornaments on display; the shards of stark moonlight filtering in through the tall, arched windows cast spooky shadows as they caught and glinted off of suits of armour, statues and the like, but she was too familiar with her castle to jump at startling shapes in the night any more.
She reached a partly-open door near the end of the corridor; light, soft and amber, artificial, spilled out of the gap, and Celestia guessed that whomever was occupying the room at the moment had intended to close it all of the way, but hadn't double-checked to make sure that the rickety old latch bolt had caught in the strike plate. Pushing the door open to peek inside, half-noticing that the heavy iron deadbolt had been carefully undone – something that should have made a terrible racket in the dead of night – Celestia found, sitting at a table that was heaving under the weight of numerous items, a small unicorn filly, candlelight illuminating her and a small patch of space around her.
Books fought a losing battle for space with mugs, beakers and various other implements that Celestia reckoned had been pilfered from the School for Gifted Unicorns' various science labs. Twilight Sparkle's face was worn and haggard from a lack of sleep, and her violet hair was in complete disarray, random tufts spiking off at crazed intervals. Whenever it looked as though her bright, mulberry eyes were on the verge of closing, her body would jerk suddenly and she'd utter a little sigh.
Clearly, Celestia realised, she's been at this for some time. But just what is this, exactly?
“Twilight,” Celestia said quietly, pushing the door the rest of the way open so that she could get her broad frame inside the old study, “is everything all right?”
Inhaling a great lungful of breath, Twilight hurriedly replied, “SorryIcouldn'tsleepsoIthoughtI'dcomeheretowork.”
Celestia pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing into a frown. “I'm sorry, could you repeat that a little bit more slowly?” Why is she talking so quickly? Normally, she only gets that way when she's excited about something, but right now she looks to be the furthest thing from excited.
Sighing once more, Twilight said, “I-” and that was as far as she got before a tiny, involuntary spasm gripped her body and she visibly tensed up. Trying again, fighting back an obvious wave of annoyance, she said, “I said, I couldn't sleep.”
“Are you all right, Twilight?” Celestia asked, her muzzle screwing up in a quizzical expression. Carefully, she approached the table, hoping that getting a better look at the books she was studying would shed some light on the matter.
“I have the-” another jerk, bringing a look of disgust to Twilight's face “-the hiccups.”
“I see,” said Celestia slowly, feeling as if there was something incredibly obvious that she was missing. Sure, they were annoying, but they didn't require all of this, did they? Hijacking one of her old studies and filling it with all sorts of esoterica? “Have you tried drinking a glass of wat-”
“No, you don't under-” Twilight said plaintively, interrupting the princess with a cry of frustration before she was brought up short by another spasm. “You don't understand,” she said again, taking a deep breath and struggling for a sense of calm that was straying maddeningly out of her grasp. “I don't get the hiccups very often, but when I do they last for hours and I've nev-” spasm “-I've never been able to figure out how to stop them. None of the-” she gestured to the various books arrayed across the worktop and Celestia finally saw that they were all of a medical bent “-cures, old mare's tales or spells seem to work for me. Neither does drinking water, traction on the tongue, or even sneezing.”
Her eyes darting from Twilight to the books to the equipment gathered, Celestia joined the dots. “So in the absence of a cure that worked for you, you've been trying to manufacture one of your own?”
Twilight tried to nod, but the gesture was thwarted by a body jerk. She scowled.
“And they're so bad, so strong, that they rob you of sleep?” Celestia asked, a feeling of concern building up within her. Twilight had always struck her as a happy, healthy filly, and with all of the healing magic available to Equestria it was difficult to believe that a malady so ludicrous such as chronic hiccups could continue to exist. She'd heard stories, of course, of illnesses that were resistant to magic, but she'd always assumed them to be just that. And that such a condition has affected a student of mine – one that I consider to be a close friend at that – without my knowing means that either Twilight is very good at keeping secrets or that I haven't been paying close enough attention to my charges.
“Yeah, they are that bad,” said Twilight, suppressing yet another sigh which would only serve to bring on another spasm. Realisation suddenly struck her. “I woke you up, didn't I?” She looked shamefaced. “I tried to sneak in quietly, but the room had a spell around it so I couldn't just teleport in. Why does an old study have a protection spell around it, any-”
“-Don't worry about it,” Celestia said dismissively. “There are some personal effects of mine in here that I'd like to keep safe, that's all.”
“Oh,” replied Twilight. She shook her head. “It's not so much the hiccups themselves that are the problem, but it's everything else that goes with it. Cramping in my neck, pain in my back, and if they go on long enough, I'll even throw up.” A look of distaste crossing her muzzle, Twilight recalled how Shining Armour had teased her relentlessly about her hiccup-attacks, finding them so utterly hilarious … until he'd become the unfortunate recipient of her outpourings, anyway.
“I'm so sorry, Twilight, I had no idea that things were so bad,” Celestia said kindly, wishing that she could offer more than empathy. If a cure existed, she would've found it by now in the archives, which probably meant … “May I sit with you?”
“It's not much fun to watch,” said Twilight, shuddering slightly as another spasm rocked her. Though she wasn't fond of suffering in silence, there was no point in both of them losing sleep over such a minor complaint. That said, it only seemed to be minor if you weren't the one who actually had it. “I'm really sorry for … well, breaking in and waking you up. I should go.” She got up to do just that.
“Twilight, stay!” Celestia said in her most commanding voice, instantly putting all thoughts of flight from the filly's mind.
“Okay,” replied Twilight, sitting back down.
Sitting on the bench opposite Twilight, Celestia watched her carefully as she poured through her books; the spasms would come every ten seconds or so, and her chest would heave with each one. Some were tiny, almost unnoticeable, but there were some that caused a little cry to escape her as her breast disgorged. “You've been to doctors?”
“My parents took me to a couple, actually.” She managed a small smile. “When they got desperate, they took me to any quack that offered a solution.”
“And?”
“And here we are,” Twilight said irritably. She knew that it was wrong to be mad at Celestia, who was only here out of the good of her heart – and quite within her rights to kick her out of the castle entirely for her behaviour this evening – but these jerks made her so exasperated. Exasperated and tired. She just wanted to sleep and have everything be all right in the morning, like the way it was supposed to be in a fairy tale.
“Sorry,” said Celestia, realising quickly that the answer to her question was self-evident. Exhaustion had clearly dulled her wits. “You're probably not in the mood to talk right now.” She stood up. “Would you like me to fetch you anything from the kitchens? A drink? A snack?”
By way of an apology, Twilight held up her hoof. “I'm sorry for snapping at you, Princess. It's just so frustrating.”
“I can imagine.”
“The doctors said that short of severing my phrenic nerve, there wasn't much that they could do to help me,” Twilight said, tears forming in her eyes. “Since that can cause breathing problems and other issues, my parents thought it best to seek out another solution.”
“Wise ponies,” Celestia said with a nod of her head. “Why didn't you tell me about any of this?” She sat back down.
A deep crimson blush breaking out over her muzzle, Twilight replied, “Probably because it's so darned silly. Also, there isn't much that you or anypony else can do about it, and I've always heard it said that you shouldn't burden others with the knowledge of things that they can't change.”
Getting up off of her seat again, Celestia crossed the short distance to Twilight and gave her a look; her forelegs reached out to embrace the filly, and she pulled her close against her chest just as another powerful jerk coursed through her. Celestia could feel the heave as if it were happening to her. “Twilight,” she said soothingly once the worst had passed, “there are things in this world that cannot be changed, but that doesn't lessen the importance of talking about them to somepony that you trust, all right?” She felt the filly's head rub against her chest and assumed that she was nodding.
“Sorry,” Twilight said in a tiny voice.
“For what?” Celestia asked.
“Bothering you.”
“You're not.” Trying to lighten the mood, Celestia said, “Hey, did you know that, in some cultures, hiccups are supposed to be a sign that somepony is talking about you?”
Twilight's response was to groan in agony.
Celestia loosened her grip on the unicorn; concern radiating from her voice, she asked, “Are you okay?”
“I just felt that one is all,” Twilight replied, her hooves shooting to her throbbing chest. “Um, would you excuse me for a moment?” With that, she dashed out of the room, one hoof clutching her stomach. It was a matter of a few moments before she returned, a slight shade of green colouring her muzzle. She wiped away a few remaining stains from her mouth. Her look said, Don't ask.
Celestia didn't.
Picking up another book, Twilight said, “You really don't have to stay if you don't want to, Princess.” She flushed slightly. “I mean, I'm not trying to be rude. I would love it if you stayed, of course, but there's no reason why we should be both go without sleep.”
Smiling warmly, Celestia said, “Thank you, but I'll stay.”
Twilight felt a warmth suffuse her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being with me right now. I appreciate it.”
Celestia placed a hoof on the filly's back as yet another contraction thrilled through her; maybe there was nothing practical that she could do to help, but she could be there to share the pain, and sometimes having somepony to be there for you was enough.
