Chapters I: Memory of Grief in Present Joy
‘And how would you describe the way you’re feeling?’
‘Just low.’
‘And have you been feeling like this for a long time? Or is it something that comes and goes?’
‘Not a long time. A few weeks.’
‘I see. And in those weeks did something happen? Have you suffered any pain, physical or emotional?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which?’
‘Both, I guess.’
‘It’s OK to feel pain. All do. And, if you can tell me, what prompted you to decide to come here today?’
‘A pony.’
‘Somepony close to you? It’s OK. Take your time.’
‘Yes.’
• • •
Hello. I’m Gem Effulgence. It’s a stupid name, and that’s on my mother. ‘Effulgence’. What was she thinking? So it’s Gem, if it’s all the same to you. I’m a Canterlot boy, born and bred in the city. It’s a bad place, Canterlot – not in and of itself. Rather, it’s rendered bad by the ponies living there. My mum and dad come to mind. Not that they’re ‘bad’ either. But they’re painful to be around.
I worked with my dad before, at his cafe. It’s a cheap place that serves cheap food. Popular with the students, and there are all sorts of them in Canterlot. You have your run-of-the-mills, but some study magic, and some even study it under Celestia.
But it’s not something I think about anymore, now that I’m here, in Ponyville. Dad won on that front. He and Mum don’t live together, see. They argued for years and years, and I never thought they’d break up, but they did. And as horrible as that was for me, it could be one of the best things that’ve happened. As to what did it, it was about me, of course. Dad wanted me to move out and experience the world for myself, outside the city. Mum wanted me to keep my nose down and save some money to help get a place of my own nearby. One thought I was coddled and the other thought I wasn’t coddled enough. And there you have it. I haven’t talked to my father since I moved. I visit my mother – I don’t know, quarterly? Like I said, bad place, Canterlot. There’s not much there but pain. At least I’m free from it now – as free as I can be.
Ponyville is fine. It’s nothing big. It’s nothing special. And that’s just fine. It’s a strong community, so everypony knows everypony, but I’ve managed to slip under the radar for the most part. Ponies know me from my job, on the till at Quills and Sofas. Beyond that I’m not really anypony, and that’s fine. I stay in the shop, you know. Above it. Davenport trusts me with the keys, and I open up in the mornings. He takes the rent out of my wages, and I’m fine with that. Another thing I don’t have to worry about. It’s all been fine.
Why am I telling you this? Because this is all about a pony, but it’s not about me. It’s actually about a pony I’ve known for most of my life. Hours and hours we’ve spent together. We’ve sat together at the end of the world, time, the universe. We investigated murders together and solved them. We went deep-sea diving and swam with sharks. We’ve teased each other. We’ve laughed together. We’ve embraced. God knows how many times we’ve embraced. I can feel her soft, warm coat, pressed up against my snout. We go back, the two of us. Years and years we go back. I’m certain of it.
And up until now, really, I’d forgotten about her. Thinking about that, I’m amazed. After all we went through, how could I forget her? Yet I did. I mentioned Dad’s cafe. That’s where we met, I know that much. I know that was only a few years back, but even though I saw her there for the first time, even then I’d known her far longer.
How did I forget her? Mum and Dad split up, sure. I had myself to worry about, sure. I moved to Ponyville. I found a job, took up reading and music. Was that all it took to forget? Was that all it took to detach me from years of closeness to her? She rescued me when I was trapped. She saved me from myself when I cried on the way to classes. She was the voice that frightened off the bullies and the reason that restored my love for myself. She was the motivation to stay fit and to keep studying. She was the pony for whom I lived clean. I still do. I should have thought about it! Then I would have remembered her!
And she’s here now. She’s here in Ponyville. I saw her. No mistake. She’s older now. She’s prettier than ever. She’s as smart as she was then, when I served her those hay fries. A real student of magic, studying under Princess Celestia, no less. I remember her talking to me about what she was reading as I took her plate. And she’s here now. She’s here in Ponyville.
Twilight Sparkle. Gem’s oldest, dearest, fiercest friend. And I’d forgotten her. I’ll never forget her now. Not now that I know she’s here. Not now that I know for certain, and I can’t believe it has taken me so long to admit it to myself: I love her. I’ve always loved her, and she’s always loved me. And now she’s here. She’s here in Ponyville.
• • •
At half-past nine, Davenport pushed open the store door; the entry bell tinkled. ‘You’re looking up today!’ he said. ‘How’s the morning looking?’
Gem set down his guitar and pulled himself straight on his stool. ‘Quiet. We’ve had maybe – three customers?’
‘Well, don’t stop, then,’ said Davenport, striding past the till to hang his coat in the closet. ‘Let’s hear a tune!’
‘Sure,’ said Gem, reaching for the neck. He resumed to hoofstyle the piece he’d been playing, one he was composing. It was bright and whimsical, centred around the sunny sixth chord, as he liked to call it. Davenport knew nothing about music. He nodded his head while rummaging through drawers, humming completely off key.
‘That’s a nice one,’ he said as he stooped to pick up the pricing gun he’d dropped. ‘One of yours?’
‘Yep. Do you like it? Is it any good?’
‘Sounds great!’
‘Thanks,’ said Gem. ‘I’m glad you like it. I’m not sure about the middle bit though. It’s sort of hard to –’
‘Couldn’t give me that stool a mo, just so I can get this?’ interrupted Davenport. He pointed to a box of ink on the cap of the top shelf.
‘Yeah,’ said Gem, replacing his guitar against the wall and handing him the kick stool.
‘Has Soapy dropped by?’ asked Davenport as he stepped on.
‘She came last night to leave you some pictures,’ replied Gem.
‘Ah, brilliant.’ Davenport looked at him and started to chuckle. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘What did I say?’
‘It’s nothing,’ said Gem, who’d been grinning. ‘It’s – I’m glad that it’s all over, you know. That business with Nightmare Moon and whatnot.’
‘Oh, that! Yeah.’ Davenport puffed out his cheeks. ‘That was one close call, eh? Bless those six ponies for getting us out of it. New to have two princesses in Equestria, but I’m sure Luna’ll do fine. Not Nightmare Moon anymore, is she?’
‘I guess not,’ said Gem. He could not stop himself. ‘That Twilight Sparkle really is a good pony to have in Ponyville,’ he breathed. Davenport nodded.
‘That’s right! The way I heard it,’ he said, ‘she was the one who found out about Nightmare Moon’s return in the first place.’
‘Do you know anything else about her?’ asked Gem. ‘I mean, what’s her background? I know she studied magic with Princess Celestia, but she’s here in Ponyville? Kind of weird, right?’
‘Well, it has to do with her studies. Ponyville’s talking all about it. Something to do with a study into friendship. I wouldn’t have thought it an academic pursuit, hah, but there it is.’
‘Friendship,’ echoed Gem.
‘I think she’ll settle in just fine,’ Davenport continued. ‘We’re a welcoming bunch, us Ponyvillans. We’ll show her a good time. Bless her and those other five for saving us,’ he said again. ‘And good on you for noticing that kind of virtue, Gem! It’s the right thing to praise.’
Gem shrugged and picked up his guitar, trembling. ‘I just think it’s right, what she did. What they did,’ he added. ‘And they were locals, weren’t they? I know Applejack from the farm.’
‘Well, it was Applejack, Pinkie Pie – you’ll know Pinkie, she’s that pink pony who’s dancing and singing in town. Then there was Rainbow Dash. We don’t see her as much down here, of course – she’s busy managing the clouds. Rarity. Very nice pony, Rarity. We had her in here before you started, picking up some furniture for the boutique. Twilight, of course. I think the other pony was Fluttershy. I don’t know her myself, but she’s done us proud. Our little town with its big heroes.’ Davenport chuckled again. ‘Good on them. Ah! The Mayor!’
For the bell had rung, and Mayor Mare was the pony who had entered. As Davenport greeted her, Gem set down his guitar once more and stood up, smiling and ready for service.
The Mayor bought a selection of fine quills, presents for her nephews. ‘Come again! Always a pleasure!’ Davenport called.
‘The Mayor thanked them, didn’t she?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Twilight and the others. They were thanked, weren’t they?’
‘Oh yes. Yes, Celestia herself and all. You weren’t there?’
‘I – didn’t go. I’m a bit annoyed with myself. I’d like to thank them too.’
‘Well, you’ll no doubt bump into them all.’
‘It’s just that – I don’t know where they live.’
‘Well, Applejack’s on the farm most days,’ said Davenport as he counted the different inkpots on display. ‘You’ll have to get in touch with the weather team to see Rainbow Dash unless you’re lucky. I swear that pony never stops working, I see her so little!’
‘What about Twilight? Where’s she staying?’
‘You need to get out more, my lad. She’s up in that library, isn’t she? Big, homely tree in town. Can’t miss it.’
‘The Golden Oak?’
‘That’s the one. Now give us a tune. Seems like it could be a slow morning.’
Gem obliged, smiling as Davenport started to dance. His good mood permeated the room – but not to the degree that Gem’s did. For the one thing he’d long forsaken without even realising it had returned.
Hope.
II: A Gift You Give Yourself
‘I’m so sorry I lost you! I’m so sorry! Forgive me!’
Twilight is glowing – her slender torso, her long, shapely legs. Her eyes, possessing that soul-cutting stare of which only she is capable. Every inch as I remember. I beg forgiveness. I have to. How could I have betrayed her like this? How could I have been so selfish, to turn my back on her because I was, at last, comfortable? I lost her. I don’t deserve her. I did this. It’s my fault. She hates me now. She will not forgive me.
Twilight smiles as if I were still her dearest, closest friend, and I dissolve in front of her. Tears. So weak and unsightly of me. I feel her shape, her warm, soft coat. She presses her muzzle against my body. She closes her eyes to spare me the embarrassment of salt water seeping from mine.
‘I m-missed you!’ I cry, shuddering and struggling not to collapse. ‘I missed you so much!’
‘I know,’ says Twilight, and my heart implodes with gratitude. Then Twilight’s grace, beauty and bounty restore it. I lift my hooves to embrace her but hover them halfway, frightened to try. She embraces me, and I cry even harder.
‘It’s all right. I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I understand why you couldn’t see me. But it’s all going to be OK. I’m here now, and I won’t leave you.’
‘Like – like I left y-you.’
‘You didn’t leave me,’ says Twilight, pulling out of the embrace to smile at me, a smile that cuts my mind in two. The side of selfish betrayal is cast aside like a dirty coin, and my thoughts within the other expand to reform one. Twilight forgives me. She forgives me. Everything will be as it was. We are together. We will always be together. She forgives me!
‘D-didn’t I?’
‘No. You’re here because you always meant to come back.’
‘I’m – I’m so sorry.’ Yet I can’t remember why. She has freed me from myself. She has freed me for us to be together again.
‘There’s no need. We’ll never be apart now. I’m here with you. I wouldn’t leave you either. That’s why I came to Ponyville.’
‘But I thought you came to study friendship.’
‘Then who better to be with than you?’
We embrace once more. My tears have stopped. They leave so rigid a determination, such fixity of purpose, unlike any I have experienced. We are together now, and I will never let that change. I will never fail Twilight again.
‘Thank you. Thank you for everything.’
• • •
Gem knew at once that it was Twilight’s. The great oak had imbibed her glow. What other pony could have such an effect on everything she touched? Gem knew at once she’d been there. And he couldn’t wait to see her again.
Twilight loved books. She loved reading, and so did he. That she had come to live in this library was fate, of that there could be no doubt. A place where he had good reason to go were she not among the ponies of Ponyville. A place he could frequent without arousing suspicion. Twilight was in there, he was sure of it. She was there right now, and he was but twenty paces from her door. Twenty-one paces from her.
‘Afternoon to you, Gem,’ said Thunderlane. A stratus regulator for the weather team, he flew low most days. Gem encountered him three or four times a week when he stepped outside for lunch. Each time they practised the same, short exchange. ‘Lunchtime?’
‘Afternoon,’ replied Gem, his eyes unwilling to move from the Golden Oak Library. ‘Yeah. Just off to Tw— to the library first.’
‘Don’t think anypony’s at home,’ said Thunderlane, raising his voice as the distance between them grew. ‘I saw Twilight Sparkle earlier with Applejack, but I guess it’s worth a shot.’
She was home, of that there could be no doubt. Twilight would never let him down. Never. Gem’s heart pounded harder with each stride. He reached the door, raised his hoof – and knocked. Four times. He waited, his head tingling.
There was no answer. He knocked again, the base of his mane beginning to dampen from sweat. He breathed, trying to restore rhythm to his erratic pulse.
‘Just a minute!’ A muffled shout, and the voice to whom it belonged was not Twilight’s. The door clicked and then opened. Gem wrestled with the idea of leaving before it was too late. But of course, it already was.
It was not Twilight, as he had feared. It was – a dragon? Not a proper one. A small, purple creature with no wings and a lingering frown, as if its owner was daring Gem to laugh. He did not know what to say.
‘Hello – what can I do for you?’ asked the dragon, looking him up and down.
Gem decided the best way to find out where she was was simply to ask, but would he appear suspicious? After all, what business could Twilight have with a pony her door dragon had never seen before?
‘I’m looking for Twilight – uh, Twilight Sparkle. Is she here?’
‘Sorry, she’s not,’ said the dragon. ‘She’s helping a friend.’
‘Will she be long?’
‘Yeah, sorry, it’s farm work at the orchard.’
‘Could I maybe wait here for her?’ Gem cursed his eagerness, but the dragon seemed not to sense anything amiss.
‘Well, I said I’d come and help her once I’d finished all my chores. I was actually about to head out.’
Gem gulped and nodded. ‘I see.’
‘But I can tell her you dropped along,’ the dragon added.
‘Would you?’ said Gem, blood surging to his head as he processed the suggestion. ‘I mean, could you?’
‘Sure thing. Who’s –?’
‘It’s Gem. Um, Gem – Effulgence. From Canterlot. I’d like to speak with her if possible. At some point. I’m – searching for a book.’
‘Alright, Gem Effulgence,’ said the dragon, drawing a cringe from Gem at the stupidity of his own name. ‘I’ll tell her you came by.’
‘Thanks, uh –?’
‘Spike.’
‘Thanks, Spike.’
All was not lost. He had found her home, and soon she would hear his name again. She would hear his name, and he would see her again. He felt compelled to produce something special with which to mark the reunion. He considered gifting her one of his books but dismissed the idea as impersonal. The gift had to come from inside him. There was always music. That was it! He would compose in honour of Twilight. A heart-stirring piece celebrating their friendship and their closeness.
Smiling once more, he walked back to Quills and Sofas on an empty stomach.
• • •
‘– and if you’re still unsure, there’s a warranty on all of these. We give you an extra year, so if there’s any trouble with the mechanism, you can come back and return or exchange it.’
‘Well, that’s very good, thank you. We’ll come in to buy it tomorrow, then. And thanks for all your help.’
‘That’s not a problem at all. Have a good day!’
‘I will, thank you, my dear, and you take care now!’
‘Bye! Bye –’
The door closed and Gem was alone by the promotion end, still smiling and unable to stop. Davenport emerged from the storage room, grinning too.
‘A standup salespony! No scams, just the bare facts. The Ponyville way! Well done!’
‘It’s been a good day is all,’ replied Gem. Another tremor trickled down his neck and through his body like hot water. ‘I had a nice break.’
‘Pop by Sugar Cube Corner again, did you? They stock fresh apple turnovers, straight from the farm.’ He licked his lips. ‘Tell you what really would be good. For the Cakes to start up those Sunday teas again. Ooh, they really were a bang for the buck. Best fancies I’ve eaten, and the coffee never stops –’
Soon enough Davenport nipped out to meet his wife for their lunch. This gave Gem the opportunity to start on his piece for Twilight. He folded a sheet of scrap paper in half and tore down the guideline. He was seldom concerned with notating music; he preferred to record. But if inspiration struck in the shop, it was indispensable. There he needed to represent ideas in a manner through which he could reconstruct them. To this end, he wrote down the scale degree of each note as he hummed it and added the values afterwards.
For Twilight, a choral passage seemed most appropriate. Four voices. Simple and pure. Tapping and humming, he established the cantus firmus. To it he would write counterpoint. How he loathed the blandness of the major scale! He scribbled across the paper – a reminder to flatten the seventh. He sang the resulting phrase. Well-meaning cheer ascended to deep reverence – but positive, unsorrowful. Purposeful and familiar. And all of it achieved via the manipulation of a single pitch class. This, he knew at once, was fate. This was the will of the world. This was for Twilight, after all.
He scrapped his first attempt. To draw solutions based on ancient rules was insulting. It was joyless, thoughtless. Mechanical! He slammed his hoof against the paper in frustration. The room, silent, offered no help.
But it was so straightforward, so obvious. Each voice needed a melody . Not a favour-currying melodic construction approved of by pedants and pedagogues. A melody of its own – a melody of Gem’s, not a by-product of what he had studied. And there would be no words, he determined, his mind racing as realisation dawned. Words were irreverence. Words were meaningless, a waste of space, a corruption of honesty. Twilight needed no words to understand. She knew Gem. She knew what was in his heart and in his head. What purpose would words serve? The notes were the morphemes, the harmony the lexemes. And the music was the utterance.
And two pitches to the bass. Only two. One for Gem. One for Twilight. Two for life.
‘This isn’t about you!’
‘Oh, because everything’s about me, isn’t it? Every single thing I say can only be about me! DON’T patronise me, Hazel, I’m the father here! You think I don’t know what it’s like?’
‘Don’t you dare –’
‘YOU’RE SITTING ON YOUR ASS, BOY!’ he roared, and Gem could hear his furious spit warp the final word.
‘Your father wants what’s best for you,’ Twilight whispered, pressing herself against him . ‘You’ll prove him wrong.’
‘I d-don’t want to do it – he’s going to make me.’
‘Then don’t. It’s your decision. It isn’t his.’
‘But –’
‘It’s yours, Gem. Not his.’
‘YOU’RE GOING TO START PULLING YOUR WEIGHT AROUND HERE, DO YOU HEAR ME? I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS SMART-ASS FROM SCHOOL! YOU’LL PAY YOUR DUES OR GET OUT!’
‘Don’t speak to my –!’
I reach for the cabinet, whimpering as my father’s fist batters the bathroom door. I’m too scared to check the lock. I fumble around for whatever I can find, desperate to escape. Twilight grabs my hooves to stop me and I slip the bottle. Pills clatter against the tiles. The empty plastic rolls across them like a severed head. I drop to collect a mouthful, spluttering, my face contorted.
‘Gem.’
Twilight’s expression is unreadable. It freezes me, stooped, my muzzle inches from the floor. She moves slowly . Gracefully . Her legs wrap around my torso, and I am lifted to my hooves. She smiles as only she can, eyes dark and shining – and as they close, her lips meet with mine. My eyes widen. The thumping stops.
‘GROW UP!’ my father shouts, but Twilight does not let me go.
• • •
‘Another eventful day in Ponyville, Spike. I wasn’t sure I’d ever decide, but now you can go too!’
Spike, though he pulled a face, sounded happy. ‘Well, I guess you’ll have to drag me along. And besides, it’d just be rude not to accept an invitation from Princess Celestia.’
Twilight laughed. ‘Oh, Spike. You never change.’ Humming, she magicked away the ladder. Fluttershy and her critters had used it to tidy the bookshelves. ‘At least this room is clean now. I never thought receiving favours could be so stressful.’
‘But I cleaned the place earlier!’
‘Spike, your “cleaning” is –’
There was a knock at the door. ‘Who could that be?’ Twilight wondered aloud. Spike shrugged.
‘Maybe you left something behind when we went out for dinner?’
‘You’re right. It could be one of the girls.’
‘I’ll get it,’ said Spike, reaching for the handle. ‘Hey, maybe it’s Rari—! Oh. It’s you.’
‘Is this a bad time?’ A strained, breathless voice – to whom it belonged Twilight could not see. Spike was shifting his legs.
‘You’re, um – Gem?’
‘I’m here to – to ask about that book again,’ the voice stammered. Twilight wondered why it was taking Spike so long to let the pony in.
‘Well, Spike? Who is it?’ she asked, walking to the door. She could sense Spike’s embarrassment.
‘It’s – it’s Gem!’ said Spike, his eyes closing as he smiled. ‘You know Gem! He came to see you earlier today, remember? But I told him you weren’t in.’
‘I don’t remember.’ She stopped at a guilty look from Spike. ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, rolling her eyes at him. She stepped into view to take over. ‘Hi, Gem,’ she said, smiling as Spike retreated. ‘I’m sorry I missed you earlier. I was helping a –’
‘Helping a friend on the farm, yes,’ said the pony at the door, his head tilted downward, as if he were afraid to meet her eye.
‘That’s right,’ said Twilight. ‘You wanted to speak to me?’
‘Yes,’ gushed the pony, and this time his head came up. His profile was unfamiliar, yet there was something strange in the way he looked at her. Had they met before? ‘I –’ He gulped as though struggling to say something important. ‘I had a question about a book. If you have it, that is. I mean, do you have it? I mean –’
‘A book?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why don’t you come inside?’ Twilight asked, deciding it was best to make amends for Spike’s blunder. She hoped the pony wasn’t offended. On the contrary, he seemed not to have noticed.
‘Thank you. Twilight,’ he said.
‘You’re very welcome,’ she replied, walking to her shelves. She realised she didn’t know which book the pony, Gem, wanted. ‘Which book are you looking for?’ she asked, turning. Her eyes met his again, wider than a startled rabbit’s. She agreed with her first assessment, only days ago: Ponyville had its share of odd ponies. Then she remembered she was best friends with Pinkie, the oddest of them all, and felt a little guilty. She had jumped to judging this one on his appearance. That was another lesson she’d learn in due course.
‘I’m working on a project just now,’ he said, ‘and I’d like to borrow, um, a book about structure – um, musical – if you have one. It’s fine if you don’t, of course.’ He laughed.
‘I have a whole section on music,’ said Twilight, smiling at him. ‘You’re welcome to take a look.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Not at all!’
Gem appeared bewildered for a moment. Then he shuffled beside her and stared at the shelf. The silence lasted a little too long for Twilight’s comfort, so she tried to fill it. Small talk she had never liked, but she had a duty to make her guest feel welcome. She’d learned already that friendship required effort. A pony couldn’t decide to be friends with another and follow up with nothing.
‘This one’s quite good,’ she said, levitating out a volume on sonata form. ‘I read it once, quite a while ago. I haven’t written any music, but I find the subject fascinating! I find most subjects fascinating!’ She realised that she was talking only about herself. ‘Do you like reading, Gem?’ she asked.
‘What?’ Though Gem’s face gave every sign of rapt attention, her words seemed not register. He shook his head. ‘I – yes. Yes, yes, I do. I do read. About music mostly.’ He paused. ‘Oh,’ he added and took the book from Twilight’s magic’s grip. He stood there, and Twilight had the bizarre image of a scarecrow in a barren field. He wasn’t speaking, so what should she say? Her eyes moved to Spike’s for help.
‘Gem says he’s from Canterlot,’ he chipped in.
‘So are we!’ said Twilight, beaming. She turned back to Gem, registering the pale coat and peculiar posture. This time he looked familiar, yet still she could not place him. ‘What brings you to Ponyville? It’s a nice place, isn’t it? I mean, Spike and I really haven’t been here for very long, have we, Spike, but we really – um –’
She broke off. For no clear reason the pony in front of her had started to cry. The tears were as quiet as their source, yet tears they were. His eyes were wet and shining. Twilight’s insides squirmed with surprise and embarrassment. What had she said? Again, she looked to Spike for help, but he was equally nonplussed.
‘Sorry,’ said Gem, his voice calmer and steadier than she had heard it. He wiped his eyes. ‘It’s nothing. Just something that happens when my eyes get tired. Happens quite a lot, actually, and I was up late last night. Reading, of course.’ His laugh restored a great deal of confidence in Twilight. Their guest seemed fine after all, not offended by some careless comment of hers. Relief took over and she laughed with him.
‘Well, that’s a good book, anyway,’ she said, smiling, ‘and if you need anything else, just drop by during the day. We’re usually here, aren’t we, Spike?’
‘I will,’ Gem said, and to her surprise he turned to leave without ceremony. Twilight was glad to see him go. She didn’t think she could extend their conversation for much longer. After what felt like a near miss, she did not want to risk causing real offence. Learning how to be a good friend would be long, hard work, and her first lessons had scarcely concluded. ‘Thanks,’ he said, smiling as Spike opened the door. ‘Bye, Twilight. And thanks. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome!’ said Twilight, waving. ‘It was very nice to meet you, Gem!’
The door swung shut and Gem, shuffling in the darkness, vanished from view. Twilight’s subconscious became aware that she had sensed a ghost of deep emotion. When and behind whose eyes she did not know. It was a strange, unsettling feeling. She dealt with it by making herself and Spike a hot chocolate each.
• • •
‘Gem says he’s from Canterlot.’
‘So are we! What brings you to Ponyville? It was very nice to meet you, Gem!’
‘You’ve forgotten me!’ Gem screamed at her as she took her rest. He knew it was no use. Her warm body rose and fell gracefully, beautifully. The savage urge to strike melted into crippling misery. Gem slid onto the cold stone beneath her silken sheets. He listened to her slow, steady breathing. This time her intoxicating purity, rather than rescue him, made him feel filthy and out of place. He shivered and distanced himself from the bed, cringing into a corner. He prayed that his effluvium had not poisoned her in her sleep.
‘But how is that possible?’ he squeaked, his head throbbing, churning like an engine.
Her body rose, carried on the lightest breeze, and like a blooming flower her eyes opened. The glow was so fierce that Gem cried out and shielded his face. Then he fell forward and vomited. The sickness became fragrant moss as Twilight floated through it and embraced him.
How magical that embrace was. The most natural, effortless, familiar state. Where they were – who knew? The sea, the castle, the meadow. Oh, the simplicity and the purity. Gem’s heart beat so fast his blood returned, and he was whole and powerful once more. He kissed Twilight. His monstrous, vigorous form enveloped her more gently than the wind by which she had risen. She kissed him back, her lips hot and submissive.
‘Forgotten what?’ she purred. She was his, and he was hers.
And then it was dark and cold, and Gem was clutching the hard bole of a tree in Ponyville. He doubled up, quiet, furious. The page against his cheek, warm with Twilight’s spell, made his grieving even more agonising.
‘Thunderlane! Get yourself over here, and let’s have a drink!’
It was Blossomforth, who had shouted, accompanied by Flitter and Rainbow Dash. Grinning, Thunderlane adjusted his wings and flew to the cloud upon which they sat. ‘Working hard or hardly working, eh?’ He aimed it at Rainbow Dash, who yawned.
‘I need my rest. Besides, everypony knows I could clear the sky in five seconds flat – if I really wanted to.’
‘I only wish you would,’ snorted Blossomforth. ‘If I were half as fast as you, I’d be the finest weather pony in Equestria.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, use your head.’
‘Hi, Thunderlane,’ Flitter said, smiling at him, and Thunderlane felt his cheeks warm.
‘What’s the occasion?’ he said in a full voice, hoping to appear witty and impressive.
‘Eh,’ said Blossomforth, shrugging. ‘We dealt with the cirrus clouds, and Rainbow says forty minutes till the next job. She –’ She tossed her head at Rainbow Dash, who winked. ‘She already finished her lot above the Everfree, and we caught her napping. How’s the day been with you?’
Thunderlane shrugged back. ‘Uneventful. Not much in the way of low-hangers, so I’ve been taking my time. Speaking with a few ponies. You know how it is.’
‘Oi, Flits, grab us some OJ off SCC.’ Rainbow Dash snorted, and Blossomforth frowned. ‘What?’ asked the latter.
‘You speak like a foal, Bloss,’ replied Rainbow as Flitter flew to the Cakes’ for drinks. Thunderlane watched her go.
‘So, you spoke with some ponies,’ Blossomforth said to him, ignoring Rainbow. ‘What’s the latest down below? Come on, give us the goss.’
‘You’re a nosy git,’ said Thunderlane. ‘Well, what can I say? It’s the usual. Bit dull after that business with the Ursa whatsit the other night. And then there was the smoke that Fluttershy cleared.’
‘Been there, seen that,’ said Rainbow, yawning again.
‘Well, the word is there’s something up with Berry Punch, but it sounded pretty far-fetched. Small-town grapevine nonsense.’
‘Isn’t she growing something she shouldn’t be?’ prompted Blossomforth.
‘Why do I bother telling you anything?’ Thunderlane laughed.
‘Well, how do you think I find out about these things? I have to ask! Ooh!’ Blossomforth grew very still, like an insect preparing to ambush its prey. In a low voice she said, ‘Look who it is. Look. No, not there. There. Down there. Rainbow, look. See him? That’s the third time I’ve seen him look like that, and he’s always alone. A real weirdo!’
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, pulled back her head from the rim of the cloud and lay down with a sigh. ‘Wake me if it’s important,’ she muttered. Thunderlane peered at the pony and realised whose back Blossomforth was biting.
‘Hey, that’s Gem. Don’t be mean, Bloss, he’s fine. Gem!’ Thunderlane lifted a hoof. Blossomforth hissed and grabbed him, rolled him into the cloud.
‘What’s that all about?’ Thunderlane snapped at her.
‘Don’t attract his attention!’
But Gem, for whom Thunderlane felt a strange fondness, seemed oblivious not only to the clouds above him but also to the ground beneath.
‘See his face?’ Blossomforth whispered. ‘Creepy. Capital-C creepy. Now that’s a pony thinking some nasty thoughts if you ask m— aww, what did I say?’
For Thunderlane had taken a leaf out of Rainbow’s book and lain down, his eyes closed.
• • •
‘We met here, didn’t we? In a place like this.’
Twilight laughed and touched Gem on the snout. ‘I was studying for my magic exam, and you were working for your father.’
Gem shuddered at the memory of his father but smiled at that of Twilight. Her many books had covered their table; her eyes had been bright and determined. Then his mind darkened at his most recent recollection. ‘Why didn’t you remember me at the library?’ he asked, trying his best not to sound hurt.
Twilight’s brow rose. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean? Of course I remember you! I’m right here, with you, right now, Gem. Don’t worry so much. Everything is fine.’ She leaned forward, and they nuzzled. Feeling a lot better, Gem ate a hay fry. It wasn’t as bad as the ones he used to serve her, and he liked the idea of revisiting old times with old meals.
‘What did you want to ask me?’ Twilight said, and Gem’s mood slipped again. It was astonishing, the power she held. When thinking of Twilight, he was at either his highest or his lowest. The agonies and the ecstasies that she alone summoned – Gem could describe neither the terror of the first nor the primacy of the second. Life without her was unimaginable. How he had managed it before he could no longer explain, having tried each night of the previous month.
‘I – I just wanted – just needed to – your help. To calm down. Myself down. The last weeks – they can’t be like this anymore, Twilight, please. Please don’t let me be like this. That bucking Trixie!’ He spat out the hated name with as much venom as he could muster, teeth clenched like vices. ‘H-how she dared to – I’ll – I’ll have her! I’ll –’
How he had wanted to hurt, to shame, to degrade that horrible pony who had wronged his only friend. But Twilight was, of course, magnanimity itself – so Gem had desisted. For Twilight. Everything for her.
She studied his pale, taut face as she spoke, her words laden with utmost trust, respect and concern. ‘Remember when we walked to Headspony’s Hill, Gem? Where the wicked were punished. You held me, and I told you that the wicked are always punished; that does not change. Only the punishment.’
‘Yes,’ breathed Gem, his eyes wet and burning again. ‘Yes, I remember. I remember!’
‘Learn to let go, Gem. You must. You have to let the feelings go.’
Both of them knew he would not let her go, and that was the problem. He did not say it. He could not say it, yet he knew: Twilight was his problem. She ignited his extremes. The price for her splendour was the torment he wished would end. How could he let her go? Let the feelings go?
They looked at each other. Then Gem blinked, and she was gone.
• • •
Gem had not played his guitar for three days. Instead he’d been hard at work, engraving his choral composition. Twilight deserved the best, his best, yet that it was insufficient terrified him. The pages he carried in a bag around his neck. He had time to perfect them, to rectify their wrongs, for wrongs remained. He needed to take them out and look over them again, for the eighth time. He knew he would find nothing, for he had fixed everything he could by the fourth, meticulous pass. Then why did he feel so inefficient, so underprepared? So useless? The music was of a high quality, but the music was also mediocre. So, it was not of a high quality. It was useless. It was a disgrace, an insult to his friend, to whom he still intended to present it.
‘Please, please, please,’ he murmured to himself in the moonlight. He had waited for darkness. Davenport and Soapy lived away from the shop, so slipping out had been easy. Unlike Canterlot, Ponyville was quiet on all but the best of nights. He was free to see Twilight alone, without birthing rumour or arousing jealousy. Then he remembered Spike, her dragon helper, and hoped he would not answer the door. ‘Please. Please, please.’
Light emanated from the windows of the Golden Oak Library. She was awake, and the thought sent an unpleasant chill down Gem’s spine. His heart thudded. His head was hot with sweat. His tongue bled because he had bitten it. He stumbled on his tail and, with a gurgle, fell. What was the matter with him? Why could he not perform this most straightforward of tasks? A task that each pony under the sun could complete? To give a friend a gift. His symptoms worsened the closer to his destination he drew. He retched and avoided being sick only by gulping down breaths of cool night air.
‘P-please – please, please. Please. Please, please –’
And there he was. The door to the Golden Oak Library, tall, curved. His door to Twilight, and all he needed to do was knock. His hooves were anvils hugging the ground. His neck clicked as he tried to loosen up, steeling himself. He felt tears threaten again. How he cried these days. But Twilight was in there, and she would help him. She would embrace him, and the world would be right again. If only he could knock. If only he could give her his gift.
He raised his hoof, eyes popping. A foot from the door. He had only to swing it forward. No, to let it drop. It would connect with the firm wood, and she would know he was there, awaiting her magnificence. But what did he have to offer her? What could he do in the face of such effortless superiority? Extend a pittance in return for limitless bounty? He wanted to be sick, so disgusted by the injustice of such an exchange was he. His hoof quivered, trembled, but did not fall.
'P-please – please, pl— plea— p-pl—'
And his strength, though no word suited less the state of his body and mind, emptied. He turned and ran like a rat from a flame. He ran until his lungs would not let him. Wheezing, he slattered his key into the lock and turned. He rattled the handle until he stumbled into the shop. He staggered upstairs to his room. The floor shook as he kicked open his door.
He ripped the bag from his neck, rammed his hooves into the pocket and tore his score to shreds. He howled with anguished laughter. Then he sank to his knees, sobbing more loudly than he had ever heard himself. He ground his face into the floorboards. The urge to bite, to tear himself to pieces, he could not realise.
And he cried.
