Marjoram is somepony who deals with illness. It was fact, like how Celestia controlled the sun. How Pegasi controlled the weather. Some knew the intricacies of how and why and how it hadn’t always been that way, but everypony knew it.

Sometimes, someone would forget. Not for long, but they would. Then reality would crash back.

Marjoram never forgot. His body wouldn’t let him. Fever, night sweats, chest pain, congestion, weakness, general malaise. Add in the symptoms of mild oxygen deprivation, his coughing fits, and everything else that had decided not to work properly, Marjoram was often miserable.

Pain was constant, be it a low ache deep in his chest or the sharp pain of a migraine. Different things hurt at different times but pain was always there. Sometimes it drove him to be stronger. Usually, the pain just sapped at what little strength he had. It grated against frayed nerves, and on bad days Twilight and Spike had learned to develop thick skin.

So, one morning in the coldest part of winter, Twilight wasn’t surprised when Marjoram didn’t come upstairs. She hoped against hope he would be asleep, but somewhere in her heart she knew he wasn’t.

Twilight set her book down, and went to Marjoram’s stairs. Descending them, and opening it just a crack revealed Marjoram. He wasn’t sleeping, but it looked like he hadn’t bothered to get up yet either.

“You getting up?”

A breathy moan. Twilight smiled, though she wasn’t sure Marjoram could see it, “Okay. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Nothing, no reply. Twilight eased the door shut, and went back upstairs. She sighed, making a mental note to bring some food down for him by lunchtime. Even if he didn’t eat, it wouldn’t hurt to get a good look at him.

She sat back with her book, and continued to read the newest Daring Do book. She and Rainbow would need to discuss this one: it was emotionally charged and packed full with plot twists and hoof-biting action.

Marjoram, downstairs, listened as Twilight settled herself back upstairs. He wanted desperately to get out of bed: he wanted to read the new Daring Do book, wanted to chat with Spike about growing gems, wanted to go for a walk to Sugarcube Corner…

Marjoram wanted to do a lot of things, but his body had other ideas. He knew that getting out of bed would be a lengthy process, and Marjoram simply didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to waste simply getting out of bed. Not today.

Frustrated tears welled, and Marjoram had to bite them back. He buried his head into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the sounds of life commencing from the sounds of Spike’s feet crossing above him.

Marjoram was sick, and he could never forget it.

Author's Note

Short, but I enjoyed it.