It was late afternoon by the time Twilight Sparkle reached Canterlot castle, a fact that brought her no small amount of displeasure. One of the few times she’d been called here by the other princesses, and of course she would manage to be tardy. Struggling and failing to fight the urge to curse under her breath, she galloped through the long hallway as if a great fire burned under her hooves, depositing Spike by the doorway (ignoring his indignant cry as she did so) and rushing inside.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she gasped, hearing the sound of someone’s magic slam the door shut behind her (Spike gave another yell of annoyance, though this time muffled.) “I tried to get here as quickly as I could, but the soonest train wasn’t for another ten minutes and I was too sore to fly the whole way after I helped Rainbow Dash with her practice this morning --”
“Twilight. Breathe,” Princess Cadance said, smiling reassuringly as she approached. (Twilight noted, in the back of her mind, that this smile did not truly reach her eyes; considering why they had been called here, she could not blame her.) “It’s alright. You’re right on time. I only just got here, and that was because I was in Canterlot already.” Oh, right. Twilight had forgotten—Cadance and Shining Armor had been visiting with her parents for the weekend, mostly on account of Velvet’s insistence that they bring Flurry Heart by more often. Did that mean Shiny was here somewhere too? Ah—but she couldn’t get distracted...
“It’s always lovely to see you, my former student,” Princess Celestia told her, shaking her from her thoughts. “I only wish the situation was not so often this dire.”
“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked. “The letter Luna sent me mentioned a great threat, but she didn’t exactly go into detail.”
“Apologies for that, Twilight Sparkle. I was in… a bit of a hurry, considering the circumstances.” said Princess Luna with a nod of her head.
It was Celestia who spoke next, stepping forward and raising herself into a stance that was altogether both regal and determined—though the worry in her expression was still clear, no matter how much she may have tried to hide it. Twilight had known Celestia long enough to be able to read her, especially when it was just them. “Luna and I have had a premonition of the return of one of Equestria’s greatest villains. From what we have been able to discern, the gargoyle Hydia will soon reemerge from the volcano that Star Swirl and his friends consigned her to.”
Twilight blinked, frowning as she considered the words. Where had she heard that name? Hydia? Ah - A Brief History of Cultures Lost to Time. She’d been in the section about flutterponies, if Twilight remembered correctly. Remembering this information gave her no satisfaction, however—instead, she shuddered to recall what she’d read in the book. “I’ve … I’ve read a bit about her, I think,” she said quietly. “Wasn’t she the one who caused the extinction of the flutterponies?”
As she spoke, she found it difficult to disguise the waver in her voice; the idea of an entire race of ponies that were now simply gone shook her to her core, and she was certain it must have shown on her face. She heard a sharp, shaky breath from Cadance as she processed what she had said, and sent her sister-in-law an anxious glance.
“Indeed,” came Luna’s eventual response, breaking the silence. Short though it might have been, it had felt heavy and tangible, with the weight of the things they were discussing taking into consideration… Twilight resisted the urge to shudder as she suppressed her own horror, trying to focus on the conversation—Luna was still speaking. “We were too young to have fought her, but Star Swirl always spoke of her with such finality… he certainly had no way of knowing that she still lived.”
“If he had, I’m sure he would have prepared us more for her return,” said Celestia. Her tone was somber, and she heaved a weary sigh before she seemed to steel herself again, that same resolute expression settling upon her face once more. “As it is, we know that she is very powerful—and there is no doubt that she is out to cause more destruction.”
“So all four of us are needed to fight her?” Cadance asked, glancing at Twilight and then back at the sisters again. “But… surely with all of us, we can defeat her and keep Equestria safe.” It was clear that she was trying to sound brave, but the feeling of wrongness that permeated the room had not yet truly dissipated, and Twilight could see the worry in her gaze, even as she stood tall.
Celestia merely shook her head sadly, but neither sister gave an answer for a time. Then -
“Hydia was not always alone in her villainy,” said Luna. “At one time, she had at her side her two daughters, and the two of them were just as magically powerful as she. However…”
Celestia continued for her, her expression unreadable. “As we understand it, Hydia consumed her daughters in order to gain their magic for herself.”
Twilight should not have been surprised by the information—not after what she already knew of Hydia—and yet, defying all logic, she felt her heart twist in shock and disgust at the words, an involuntary gasp escaping her. From beside her, she heard Cadance murmur, “No,” the horror audible in her tone. Bile rose in the back of Twilight’s throat.
“This is the unfortunate truth of the matter. With their power at her disposal, Hydia became unstoppable,” Luna intoned. “It took the most precious artifact known to ponykind to defeat her, and with her defeat it was burned away, lost forever as the cost of our victory.”
Twilight Sparkle latched onto this information almost immediately as it was given (grateful, in truth, for anything to focus on that wasn’t the arrant horribleness of the enemy they now faced), her brow furrowing and a deep frown setting itself upon her face. “An artifact?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly. “Not the Elements, or even one of Mage Meadowbrook’s magical relics? But… what was it?” She brought one hoof to her chin, staring at the ground below her as she pondered. “I’ve never read a history book that’s made mention of any of this.”
“No,” Celestia affirmed. “You wouldn’t have. It was so long ago, and after it was destroyed, ponies did not wish to remember what they had lost… so, after a time, it was forgotten.” Twilight felt her ears fall back to pin themselves against her head as her former mentor spoke; would ponies truly rather forget something they had lost than to remember the good? “It was called the Rainbow of Light. Little is known of it, but what we do know is that its magical power was unrivaled. Even the combined strength of all four of us would not have matched it.”
This time, Twilight did not suppress her shudder at the implications of that statement. At her side, Cadance seemed equally troubled by the words, and even as she struggled to voice her thoughts, Cadance broke in—“If that’s true, how can we protect our ponies from Hydia? If it took the Rainbow of Light to defeat her before…”
It was Luna’s turn to put on a mask of reassurance as she dipped her head to both of the younger princesses in turn. “Fear not, dear niece,” she said assuredly. “Celestia and I have found what we are certain will be the solution. However…”
“Though we have every confidence this spell will allow us to defeat Hydia, we do not know the full extent of its effects,” Celestia continued in her stead. “It is a spell taken from Star Swirl’s writings—but it seems we are missing at least one of the pages associated with his findings in his testing of it. Regardless, this page does list the spell as functioning, and even notes its use by the Pillars to defeat at least one villain in their time. It does not seem to require a second casting to be dispelled, either—those affected must simply desire strongly enough for its effects to end, and it will be so.”
That… didn’t sound entirely safe. Flicking an ear, Twilight’s expression was one of uncertainty as she chimed in—“With all due respect, Princesses…” nevermind that, of course, she was a princess herself—the polite title seemed a natural form of address to her, even still, “...are you sure using a spell you don’t fully understand is a good idea? Do you even have any idea of what it’s meant to do?”
“But of course,” Luna said. Her tone did not waver, even in the face of Twilight’s skepticism. “Star Swirl devised this spell in order to combine and strengthen the magic within himself and his friends, so that they might take on more powerful enemies.”
There was a beat of silence before Cadance spoke up. “That sounds like a lovely spell—really, it does, but … why do we need it to combine our magical efforts?”
It was Celestia’s turn to explain, it seemed, as she gave her niece a nod of acknowledgment before she turned to gaze at one of the stained glass windows in particular. “That would be because the spell does not just combine the magic within the ponies it is used on, but also amplifies it based on their bond. You of all ponies—both of you, in fact—understand the power there is in our bonds between others. This spell simply uses that power to strengthen the affected ponies.”
Now things were beginning to make some sense. “Like multiplication instead of addition!” Twilight exclaimed, a smile creeping its way onto her face.
“Precisely,” Luna said warmly. Celestia turned back to face them again, whatever had caught her attention on the glass apparently no longer of significance. (It had been Cadance and Shining Armor’s window she’d examined; perhaps it had felt relevant to the discussion of bonds…)
Cadance gave both of her wings a great stretch, the feathers in them ruffling out as if she was preparing for some terrifying battle. Perhaps she already was. “Well, if what you’ve said about Hydia’s return is true, then … we don’t have much time, do we? So it’s now or never.”
“I’m ready if you all are,” Twilight said, forcing her voice to remain confident. She had to have faith in them—in all four of them, herself included. Together—and with the help of this spell—they would prevail. They had to.
Celestia nodded, magically procuring the scroll needed for the spell. They would not fail.
Spike sighed for what felt like the hundredth time from where he waited outside the closed door. Seriously, why had Twilight even agreed to bring him along if she was just going to shut him out? He wanted to be there for her, to be useful— and sitting out in the hallway doing nothing was probably the farthest from useful he could be. He supposed he hadn’t necessarily been invited to whatever princess-y meeting was going on in there, but couldn’t they make an exception for the Princess of Friendship’s faithful assistant? He’d been helping Twilight out for years now—surely he’d proven he was worthy of being trusted!
Yet another sigh—louder this time—escaped him, as if Spike hoped somehow that the Princesses could hear him from inside. Of course they couldn’t; he’d only been able to catch bits of pieces of what they were saying, and that was with his ears pressed right up against the door. Something about a gargoyle and a spell they were going to cast… He guessed he wouldn’t have been that much help, really, when it came to casting spells, but he could have provided moral support, couldn’t he? It was just his luck that he was stuck out here instead, unable to know what was going on.
Abruptly, there was an immense light from behind the door he stood in front of—so intense, in fact, that the light that leaked out from underneath was almost blindingly bright. The sounds of magic could be heard from inside—this time he had no trouble hearing what was going on—as loud spark and wind noises echoed out into the corridor. Spike blinked, taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, and then jumped nearly his height into the air when a terrible-sounding boom rang out from behind the door. There was a cry of alarm that sounded like it belonged to Celestia, and it reverberated through the hallway, making Spike rush forward to grasp at the handle without a second thought.
Okay, so maybe he was overreacting, but that couldn’t be normal! What could have gone wrong that even Celestia was shocked? And was Twilight alright?
Swinging open the door and nearly falling over himself in his rush to get inside, Spike froze halfway into the room when he caught sight of the other presence he appeared to be sharing it with.
For a heartbeat, he had no idea what he was looking at. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with his eyes—and when it did, it helped little in understanding the scene before him. If anything, it just confused him all the more.
A huge alicorn was hovering in the hallway, each flap of her massive wings sending a strong gust of wind down towards the floor of the room. And she was truly huge—at least three times Celestia’s height, if he were to take a guess, nearly as large as the stained glass window she was currently facing. Her mane fell in long wavy curls of teal and indigo that color wise brought to mind Luna and Celestia’s own ethereal manes; the style, on the other hand, was very similar to Cadance’s. Her coat was a muted mauve color that reminded Spike of Twilight’s, though she was proportioned much more like Luna or Cadance—not that this exactly helped with the confusion about her identity.
Yes, it was clear that this wasn’t Twilight, nor was it any of the other princesses, and yet—something about her seemed to evoke the thought of all of them. There were a great many traits he found himself noting that she shared with the princesses, and as he watched her spin to face him, he thought perhaps he was starting to get an idea of what had happened.
“I think something has gone wrong,” said the stranger, in a voice much like Celestia’s, though tempered with an uncertainty that he was not used to hearing from her. The alicorn landed with a heavy thud, towering over him, and he was all at once overwhelmed with a tremendous feeling of smallness.
“Uh, yeah,” he managed. “You can say that again.”
She did not, in fact, say it again. For this, Spike was wholly grateful; he wasn’t sure how he would have dealt with a strange alicorn who also didn’t understand figures of speech.
Instead, she simply stared at him for a long moment—he had entirely no idea what to say in this situation whatsoever—and then spoke. “You’re Spike, right?”
“I… Yes?” he replied slowly, narrowing his eyes. All at once, the theory he’d been forming in his head—courtesy of reading far too many comic books, he supposed—flew out the window. If she really was all four princesses magically trapped in one body, wouldn’t she have recognized him?
But then… who was she?
He asked her as much, aloud, his suspicion probably pretty clear on his face as he backed up a step. If she wasn’t the princesses, then…
“I’m... I don’t -- I’m not sure I know,” she said, stumbling over her words. “I have their memories -- well, sort of, but -- but they aren’t mine. I mean -- their -- the princesses. Sorry, I… Was I not clear enough?” As she spoke, her nervousness apparently growing, the volume of her words grew too, until Spike frowned and covered his ears lightly—mostly just for show—and hissed out a complaint at the loudness of it.
“Okay, okay, wait,” he said when it was quiet enough for him to speak again. “So you are some weird fusion of the princesses? Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” the alicorn replied, and her voice was indeed dead serious. “Or I think so. Um.”
There was yet another brief silence. Then Spike spoke—“Look,” he told her. “I know this is probably really confusing for you. And kinda weird. Or maybe a lot weird. But from what I heard, I think the princesses, uhh… summoned you… for a reason. Right?”
“Oh,” she said, as if she had forgotten completely the reason for her existence. “Of course. You’re right. I’ll have to deal with Hydia.” She turned and straightened herself up some (Spike noted how utterly imposing she looked), as if preparing to take off and find the bad guy then and there.
“Riiiight,” Spike said. “Uh, one problem, Princess. Princesses. Whatever. You’re a little big to be leaving out the door.” That was an understatement.
She glanced at the doorway in question, then back to Spike, and let a small smile twist its way onto her muzzle. “I have magical powers,” she stated, like this information was supposed to soothe the dragon and not be something he totally already knew. With that, the alicorn was gone in a flash of iris-blue teleportation magic, leaving Spike to stand there dumbfounded for a few more heartbeats.
“Was… that supposed to be reassuring?”
It did not take long for her to reach the volcano. After all, she had the memories of Luna and Celestia to refer to, and both of them knew very well where it was—of course Star Swirl had made certain to inform the Princesses quite clearly of the volcano in which Hydia had supposedly perished, even though he had been certain of her death, just in case. With this information at her disposal, it was an easy task to pick the most efficient route there—and then simply a matter of flying and teleporting in alternation until she had reached the summit.
For a moment, she paused there, staring up at the peak and the smoke that billowed off of it, dissipating abruptly at a fixed point some distance above the top. Technically, the volcano here was not necessarily dormant—but strong magical enchantments courtesy of Star Swirl and Meadowbrook ensured that it would never threaten the ponies of this world. Celestia and Luna’s memories told her as much. And yet still it was a terrifying thing to consider in its entirety—without the enchantments, what terror might it have wrought…?
It occurred to her that these were some of the first thoughts that she had ever had that were her own. She had just been created—just been born, really—and this was what she had emerged into. A conflict…
Well, she could not dwell upon it, not when it was what she had been literally made for. Taking off for the peak with a solemn expression upon her face, she hovered there once she reached it, waiting for the appearance of the villain she had been sent to defeat.
She did not wait long. Soon enough, a bony hand—quite literally—thrust its way out of the bubbling lava, a skeletal frame following after it with spasmodic and unsettling motions. Whatever Hydia had once been—gargoyle, the alicorn’s memories provided—she was this no more. Instead, a terrible creature had emerged from the volcano, its flesh completely burned away and an eternally malicious grin frozen on its skull head. The fiend halted once out of the worst of the lava, staring at her unnervingly and tilting its head.
She thought of Cadance’s memories, of how horrified she had been to learn of the abominable deeds that Hydia was responsible for, and thought only that her outer form now reflected the monster inside.
The silence dragged on. Then the alicorn lifted her massive head, narrowing her eyes as she considered the villain before her. “Speak,” she commanded, wondering if Hydia had even retained the ability after all these years.
Somehow, she had. Her monstrous voice echoed out of a body no longer able to produce it—and yet still she spoke. “I spend a thousand years clawing my way out of a volcano, and this is the welcome that awaits me? What a joke! Really, I’m disappointed. Is this the best you ponies can do?”
The alicorn said nothing and gave her nothing. She merely watched her with narrowed eyes, waiting for whatever next move she would make. She would be ready—and Hydia would be vanquished, soon enough.
Hydia’s own expression was still that same hauntingly malicious grin—as it would always be. And yet, when she spoke, there was a note of fear in her voice now, something that her opponent did not fail to detect. “Why do you stare at me as if I’m the one who has last words to deliver?” Hydia growled. “Ha! It’s you who should be saying goodbye to your precious Equestria, child. This is the last you’ll ever see of it!”
The alicorn did not waver—only stared and said nothing still. Then, finally—“I refuse.”
Then the battle begun.
Of course he’d had to wait some more, even after all that. What had he been expecting, really? Now his sighing didn’t even have the chance of being heard by any of the princesses whatsoever—and yet he still found himself doing it, occasionally, gaze downcast and claws scuffing the ground uneasily.
Spike was worried, honestly. He knew the princesses could handle themselves—knew that whoever they had made surely could too—but hey, it was basically his job to worry! He hoped, above all, that they would be okay. If the threat had been big enough for them to try a spell they hadn’t fully understood—and to wind up with a result like that—then there was probably good reason to be concerned. He just had to hope that his fears would turn out to be for nothing.
He’d been waiting for what felt like hours. Maybe it even had been. He wasn’t entirely sure—they didn’t have any clocks readily visible here, in the room that he’d been left in. He hadn’t moved since then; he worried that if he did, perhaps the strange alicorn would not know where to find him. And then how would he know that she’d survived?
Suddenly, the room was illuminated with yet another flash of iris-blue magic, and then standing before him was the alicorn from before—looking a little worse for wear, her mane and coat ruffled and scuffed a bit, but relatively unharmed.
“You’re back!” he exclaimed, rushing forward towards her and then halting just as abruptly as he’d started. He wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to do so; though she might have been two parts Twilight and Celestia—the mare he counted as a surrogate sister and the princess who had practically raised him, respectively—she was, at the same time, a complete stranger to him. It was difficult to reconcile that, and he scratched the back of his head with one claw as he tried to pass off his start-and-stop motion as totally intentional.
“Indeed,” she affirmed, and then he felt the familiar sensation of being enveloped in a magical aura as she lifted him up and set him down gently on her back, apparently not noticing the small cry of alarm he let out as she did. This was something, of course, that he had done often enough with Celestia, and regularly with Twilight; perhaps it felt natural for her to do so. Still, that didn’t make it any less unexpected, considering this mare was not either Celestia or Twilight—and if Spike were being honest, he was not entirely pleased with the idea of being so high up off the ground. Seeing no way to politely voice these complaints, though, he merely huffed and then scooted forward to grab tightly onto the base of one of her wings, hoping against hope that a firm grip would keep him from falling to a very early death.
“How’d it go?” he asked her, still feeling a bit weird about the whole situation. How long was she going to be—well—her? Would the spell wear off eventually?
“As well as could be expected,” she replied. “Hydia will not trouble Equestria again.” Her words—and the utter lack of any remorse with which she uttered them—were enough to make Spike have to suppress a shiver, a feeling of unease crawling on his back.
“That’s a relief,” was what he said aloud, glancing up and trying to get a good look at her face. Meanwhile, she had risen to hover in front of one of the stained glass windows—an action which did, of course, make Spike even more uncomfortable, but at least she was a more graceful flier than Twilight. “Uh, but what about you? I mean… you’re still here. Will it wear off soon?” Maybe it was tactless, but who could really blame him?
She was silent for a moment. “No,” she admitted finally. “Not on its own. I have to will myself to stop existing for them to return.”
Spike opened his mouth to respond to her, and then stopped.
Wait. What had she said? Stop… existing?
Oh. Oh, geez. All at once, the gravity of the situation seemed to dawn on him; this wasn’t just the princesses mashed together, but a totally new pony who their spell had created… and who had literally just been born.
And in order for the princesses to come back, she would have to die.
“Whoa!” he gasped as he toppled off of the alicorn’s back, his grip on her having gone slack in his shock and the beating of her wings causing him to fall. Closing his eyes tightly, he waited for the pain that would never come—as before he could hit the ground, he felt the sensation of her magic yet again, lifting him up and holding him in front of her face now.
“Be careful!” she chided him, expression reproving, and then set him back down on the ground when she seemed to think she had gotten her point across.
“Guess that proves you’ve definitely got some Twilight in you,” he grumbled, but was in truth grateful for the save. She said nothing in response, of course, simply glanced at him with an expression of mild humor that reminded him somewhat of Cadance. Geez, it was pretty weird how much she brought to mind each of the princesses… but then maybe not weird at all, considering how she’s come about.
“So,” Spike said, craning his neck to try and look up at her. She was currently studying the stained glass window of Nightmare Moon’s redemption like it was the most interesting thing in the world—though he knew better than to think that was really why she was so intent on looking at it. If he knew that he was supposed to just up and die anytime soon, he would take any excuse to draw the time out, too. “You were just born, pretty much. So you don’t have a name or anything, do you?”
“I suppose I don’t, no.” She did not move her gaze from the window this time.
“Sounds like it falls on me to give you one, then!” he told her, forcing cheerfulness into his voice as he did so. Smiling up at her, he saw that this, at least, had gotten her attention; she was staring at him now with confusion clear on her face.
“If you insist…”
“How about Nova?” he suggested off the top of his head, figuring it felt like it fit with the other princesses’ names well enough.
She blinked. “That name is fine.”
Well, he supposed he couldn’t really hope for a better response. “Nova it is then,” he said. “Now --”
A loud knock on the door cut him off before he could finish his thought, and he whirled around to face the doorway, eyes wide. Nova, who looked just as shocked as he did, landed beside him abruptly, as if doing so would help her to be less conspicuous when whoever it was entered the room—when, of course, it would not help at all.
“Your Majesties?” called a voice Spike could not place from the other side of the door. “I’m deeply sorry for intruding, but I overheard voices from in here. Is everything alright?”
Spike looked at Nova, fidgeting nervously as he watched for her reaction; how was she going to explain all of this? As he looked on, she took a few tentative steps towards the door, and then, after a deep and steadying breath, spoke in a voice that seemed to be consciously playing up the similarity to Celestia’s. “Everything is fine. Luna and I will need time to recover from our encounter with Hydia, but we aren’t injured.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Princess,” called the voice on the other side of the door. “I can handle your affairs for you for the rest of the day. Would you like me to have some strengthening juniper tea sent to your room?”
This question seemed to give Nova pause, and her ears flattened against the top of her head as she seemed to struggle to respond for a moment. “N-No thank you, Raven,” she managed after a moment, and Spike thought she was lucky her voice sounded so much like Celestia’s—her nervousness would have definitely given her away otherwise. “We are… fine, but do not look our best at present. It would be better if we did not worry anypony…” As she trailed off, eyes wide and looking at a loss for what else she could possibly say to keep her staff away, Spike could not help but hold his breath; would Raven truly believe it? As far as he was concerned, she hadn’t exactly been entirely convincing. But…
“Of course, Your Majesty. Please rest up.” Spike listened for Raven’s retreating hoofsteps, waiting until they had faded out until he turned to look at Nova—a huge grin breaking out onto his face.
“That was awesome!” he cheered. “Quick thinking, Nova!”
She gave him a small and tentative smile, though did not respond verbally to the praise, instead glancing back at the stained glass behind her yet again. Just what was so fascinating about it…? This time it wasn’t Nightmare Moon’s window that she had stolen a glance at, but the window that depicted Twilight’s ascension to alicornhood. It was almost as if she…
Oh. All of the windows that depicted the princesses—they depicted parts of Nova, too, and maybe that was more than a little weird for her to take in all at once. He didn’t blame her.
“Do you want to go somewhere else for a bit?” he asked her, frowning. “You keep looking at the windows of the princesses.” Better to be up front about it, right?
“Oh,” Nova said, flicking an ear. “No, that’s alright. I’m fine here.”
Oookay. So that was a bust. What did she want to do, then? Or was she just … deferring to him at this point?
For the first time, it was Nova who broke the silence, as she glanced back once more at the windows behind her. “The four of them…” She trailed off, staring down at her massive hooves, and for a moment Spike struggled not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of such a huge pony being too nervous to meet his gaze.
“Yeah?” he prompted, when the silence had dragged on a bit and it seemed like she wasn’t about to continue anytime soon.
“They wouldn’t want me to dissolve myself,” she explained finally. She was still examining her hooves as if she had suddenly grown a fifth. “Not for their sake.”
Spike was torn. Of course he wanted Twilight back—he didn’t even want to consider yet how he would feel about losing her, and had simply tried to ignore the implications associated with Nova’s continued presence—but he had to admit that Nova was probably right. Twilight would not want another pony to die in her stead for any reason, and he doubted any of the others would either. Not to mention that it wouldn’t exactly be fair to her to -- to erase her so soon after she had begun existing.
But still… Nova had spoken the words not with any sort of relief, but with something halfway between gloom and guilt. Honestly, to look at her, she seemed to feel just about as conflicted as Spike did.
Shouldn’t she be happy to have an excuse to keep living?
Tentatively, Spike moved forward to rest a claw on one of Nova’s hooves in what he hoped was a gesture that still translated as supportiveness despite the notable size difference.
“Probably,” he said, frowning as he craned his neck to look at her. “But that’s what they would want. What do you want?”
It was a bit dark, maybe, to ask her that directly, but—Spike got the feeling that Nova had not yet considered her own desires a part of the equation at all. He knew one thing, at least—that wasn’t right. Her feelings were just as important as the feelings of the ponies who had made her.
Nova appeared to be taken aback at the question, and seemed to struggle for a long while to find the words to respond. Finally—“That doesn’t matter.”
“Are you kidding?” Spike scoffed. “You should have a say in this too! Probably the biggest say, seeing as you’re the one who’s gonna get… uh… dissolved. So what do you want?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, at last looking down at him and meeting his determined gaze with her own uncertain one. “I haven’t really had time to think about it.”
“Well, we’ve got time, don’t we?” Spike suggested. “The spell isn’t going to become permanent or anything?”
“No. There would have been a warning if there was any sort of time limit.”
“Then you don’t have to decide right now,” he said. “So c’mon! Raven thinks the princesses are recovering, and nopony will blame you for taking a day off after you just got rid of a major bad guy!”
“I… yes,” she replied slowly. “Alright. That sounds… nice.”
Spike tried to ignore the resignation he had seen in her eyes.
Spike seemed to have resolved himself to give her a good first-and-last day of existence, and Nova would be remiss if she did not accept his generosity. Or perhaps he truly expected her to consider staying. It mattered not—her mind had been made up from the beginning, ever since she had truly stopped and thought about what he had asked her. What do you want?
Of course she did not want to die. But Nova also did not want to be responsible for the effective deaths of four ponies—four princesses—who were so precious to all of Equestria. No matter what Spike might have tried to say to her, she knew that in his heart, he felt it too—hat she could not stay. Should not stay.
If she were to do only a few notable things with her short life, she did not think that sacrificing it to bring back the lives of four others was altogether too shabby.
It had not taken her long to dig up a suitable spell for their day together in her memories—Luna was especially skilled with magical glamour spells, and so Nova had disguised herself as a much smaller pony, although it did feel quite uncomfortable to have to compact herself down to such a size—just barely taller than Princess Celestia. (She did not tell Spike of the discomfort the glamour brought her; this was not something he needed troubling him.) With this and a simple spell to hide her wings, she and Spike had been free to go wherever he suggested for their day out, and go they did. First it was to an amusement park which he told her Luna would have loved; after all, he informed her, Luna was a fan of carnival games of many sorts, and surely she would like them too! (She did not have the heart to tell him that she already knew Luna liked these games, as Luna’s memories were a part of her.) She had, in fact, enjoyed them, though perhaps not quite as much as the Princess of the Night would have. Still, they had been good fun, and Spike had seemed to enjoy himself.
Next they had visited a quaint little bakery in Canterlot, as Spike was adamant that they get cake slices there—Celestia’s favorite. They had, of course, been delicious. Then there had been magic laser tag for Cadance, as she had always loved the thrill and excitement of it. Nova enjoyed the game immensely.
Lastly, Spike took Nova to the Canterlot library. Of course she had been here before, in each of her forms—but it was nice to come here for the first time herself. They spent perhaps the longest time there, picking out interesting book titles and reading a few excerpts, and Nova for once felt truly happy.
As they appeared back in Celestia’s room in the castle—no amount of guards could really hope to keep out an alicorn with such control and precision over her teleportation magic—Spike gave a great yawn, clearly exhausted after the long day they’d had, and then Nova remembered. Of course the day had seemed long… she had not yet risen the moon. The night was not long overdue by this point, but regardless guilt still ate at her as she stepped out onto the balcony and reached out to the sun with her magic. She coaxed it down past the horizon and then brought out its sister in its stead, then returned to the room to find Spike curled up sleepily on one of the soft pillows.
“M’sorry I couldn’t find anything for you to do,” he mumbled. “Seems like I just took you to do all the stuff the other princesses like. I didn’t really know what you’d want…”
“That’s alright,” she told him, levitating a blanket off of the shelf and then tucking him in with it. “I think, if I had the choice, I would not have changed a thing. Spending the day with you was all I would have asked for.”
He was asleep by the time she had finished speaking.
Teleporting back into the room where her own life had begun and removing her glamour spell, Nova took a moment to truly appreciate the stained glass art pieces all around her, smiling in spite of herself. When she’d had her fill of art, she reached out with her magic to pick up the scroll that had brought her into existence, bringing it close to her face and staring for a moment, blinking back the wetness in her eyes.
Then she lit the scroll ablaze with her magic and watched it burn.
“I am sorry, you know,” she murmured to an empty room. “Will you tell him that? I didn’t want to have to say goodbye. Besides—I will still be around, in a way.” She gave a wry laugh, closing her eyes, and then focused hard on the idea of no longer existing at all.
Iris-colored magic lit up the room once again as the alicorn split apart into four smaller shapes, each of them collapsing to the floor without any modicum of grace.
“No…,” breathed Cadance, as she processed the memories she now had.
“Oh, stars,” Luna whispered.
There was a heaviness about the room now, as all four alicorns struggled to take in what had happened.
“The -- the spell!” exclaimed Twilight finally, picking herself up off of the ground and looking frantically around the room. “If we cast it again --”
“You know as well as we do that she destroyed it,” Celestia said. Her voice was tinged with a deep sadness, unlike any Twilight had heard her mentor use before. She, too, had stood now, as had the others. “And perhaps it is best this way.”
“Nopony short of Star Swirl himself could tell us how to cast it now,” Luna agreed. “Tell me, do any of you remember its wording exactly?” There was a brief silence. “I thought not. But Celestia speaks the truth.” Princess Luna’s expression was solemn. “Such a spell should not have been left for anyone to find and use—not when that is the cost of dispelling it.”
“Y-Yes,” Cadance stammered, seeming shaken by the whole ordeal. “You’re probably right. Still, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop thinking about this… not for a while. Tell me, Aunties—did we kill somepony?” When nopony answered her immediately, she went on, as if assuming they had not understood. “We created a pony specifically to fight our battles, and guilted her into dying for us.”
Twilight seemed to have finally recovered from her initial panic, and she whirled to face Cadance, expression stricken. “That’s not true!” she burst out. “We didn’t make any choices for her. She… Nova made her own decision. If we forget that, we’d be forgetting her.” Twilight thought of the Rainbow of Light again—what had once been ponykind's most beloved relic, forgotten forever simply because nopony could handle remembering the loss. She understood, now, at least in part, why they had wanted to forget it—but she knew one thing. It would not be worth it to forget the good that Nova had brought in order to be rid of the pain of what they had caused.
“Twilight is right,” said Celestia, nodding. “And that would be a terrible thing—to forget her.”
“Then we won’t,” Luna said. “None of us will. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” came the chorus of replies.
“Very well,” Celestia murmured. “Then we shall forever remember the events of this day, until the day we no longer serve Equestria.”
They would willingly carry the burden with them, if only it meant that they did not forget—and that it never happened again.
Author's Note
i wrote this all in one sitting and don't exactly have a beta reader, so if you notice any major issues, please let me know and i'll be quick to fix them! i hope you enjoyed either way
the implication was meant to be that nova WAS simply a fusion of all of their personalities & abilities - but with her own magically created consciousness 'piloting' the thing so to speak, and therein lies the issues with the spell ending... not sure if that came across, but i hope so!
