The Misfortune of Clover the Clever

It was another week before Clover felt well enough to be released from the infirmary. Much of his body had been burned beyond recognition, and even with the best healers at their disposal, it was evident that there'd always be a reminder of that horrible event. The only silver lining, if any could be considered in the wake of such tragedy, was it seemed likely that Clover would eventually regain full use of his limbs. However, not everything can be healed with time alone.

"Come on, try again. You can do it," she continued to cheer him on. Ever since he had reawakened, Azalea, the girl he had fawned after for so long, had remained by his side; and while doing so had originally been an order from Elder Lily, she seemed to relish in the task, and his company. Maybe even more so than he did with her.

Clover once again strained against his own horn as he attempted to push magic through it. It flickered and sputtered with green sparks, but failed to light up completely. The quill he had been focused on wobbled, his magic just barely managing to grasp it. It soon began to pulse in time with his magic and had only barely lifted from the table before finally catching fire. The delicate tool quickly burned up and the ashes slipped right through his magical grasp before collecting next to the remains of his other failed attempts.

The injured unicorn collapsed as he released the small amount of magic he had been able to conjure. Even that much had been enough to leave him feeling exhausted and dripping with sweat. The bandages he still kept himself wrapped in quickly soaked up the offending moisture. With how heavy they were starting to feel, they would likely need to be swapped out soon.

"It's no use," Clover conceded as he caught his breath. He had been trying this same exercise for days now, but it didn't seem to be getting any easier. "All I seem to be good for anymore is starting fires."

"Well..." Azalea said as she considered his most recent attempt. "It didn't catch fire quite so quickly this time..." She paused when she saw the downtrodden look he was giving her. "Don't be like that," she said. "The doctor didn't think you'd even be able to produce as much as a weak glow. Look how far you've come."

He couldn't deny that she had a point. With all the poking and prodding they had done during his extended hospital stay, one of the gravest bits of news he had gotten was the state of his horn. The fire had burned him so deeply that even the inside of his own horn had been thoroughly cooked. It had left him with a numb feeling in the middle of his forehead, and it was so bad that more than once Clover had found himself checking to make sure his horn was still there. That he had been able to get any magic through it, at all, no matter how little or how unstable, was nothing short of a miracle.

"If only I could hold a quill again," he bemoaned, "at least I'd be able to return to my studies." Clover had never been a very powerful unicorn, even before the accident. Besides, he had always been more interested in researching new spells and techniques. According to his teachers, he had a strong aptitude for it, and he should still be able to do a lot of the research even with his infirmity.

Azalea sighed as she stood up. This wasn't the first time she had watched the downtrodden pony beat himself up, but she was getting tired of seeing it. "Come on," she said as she nudged him out of his seat. "You've been stuck in this stuffy room for far too long. Some fresh air will do you some good."

"But..." He quivered at the thought of being outside again. "The sun..."

"Went down hours ago," Azalea cut him off. "You won't have to worry about going mad right now. I can't say the same if either of us stay cooped up in this room much longer."

"And my scars?" Clover asked.

Clover had never been a particularly vain pony, but after the first time the bandages needed changing, he had gotten a good look at how bad the damage was. He really didn't like being reminded of what had happened. Once, he even tried wrapped his toga tightly around himself, but all that accomplished was making it really hard to move.

Azalea watched Clover and his dilemma for a moment before ducking into the other room, leaving Clover to once again lament his fate. "I thought about that," he heard her say from the other room. "And I think I may have a solution. Close your eyes for a moment."

The unusual request succeeded in peaking Clover's curiosity as he did as he was told. The room remained silent until he heard the sound of Azalea's hoofsteps reenter the room. "No peeking," she teased. Clover squeezed his eyes a bit tighter as he felt something lay across his shoulders. It drifted over his back, coming to rest down past his own tail before he felt her fasten something around his neck.

"You can open your eyes now," he heard her say, and he did so, but when he saw what she had done, his jaw just dropped.

Draped over him, like some sort of large blanket, was a cloak. It was similar to what they might wear during the winter, but it felt a lot finer than anything Clover had worn before. He reached back and ran a hoof down the side of it, marveling in how smooth the cloth felt beneath his touch. "This is..." He tried talking, but he still felt in awe to be wearing something so fine. He worked his way back to the front, where he noticed a clasp was in the shape of a four-leaf clover. "Where did you get this?"

"Well," Azalea started, seeming a bit embarrassed for some reason. "I may have been taking advantage of some of my free time while you've been sleeping. I always wanted to try weaving, but my mother never would've allowed it. Probably say something like it's beneath me and all that nonsense, but I think it turned out alright."

Clover followed along with her words, hardly believing what he was hearing as he looked back down at the fine cloak. "You made this?" He asked.

"Yes, I did," she said as she rubbed the back of her head, her ears turning red at the same time. "Do you like it?"

"It's... It's beautiful," he said as he continued to marvel in her fine work. "Thank you."

The red in Azalea's ears was now working its way down to encompass the rest of her head. "Come on," she said quickly. She began pushing him towards the door before she inevitably burst into flames. "Let's get out of here."

The moon had already risen to its full height, with not even the smallest remnant of daylight left in the sky. The pale light reflected off the marble buildings, giving them the sullen appearance of a forest of ivory. In the distance, he could just barely make out the mist tossed up by the falls, and the way it caught the silvery light as it drifted off the side of the island.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen any of this before. After all, he had lived in this city his entire life. Maybe it was his recent brush with death that made him appreciate it all the more, but the sight of it now left him staring in awe at his surroundings. His instantaneous change in disposition brought unbound joy to the pony by his side.

"I was wondering when he'd show up again," Azalea said, causing Clover to snap to reality.

He looked around, trying to figure out who she was talking about. "Who?" He asked, confused. "I don't see anypony else here."

"I meant you, silly," she chuckled as stepped up and brushed aside his mane. "That look of wonder you get on your face when you've discovered something. I hadn't seen it in so long, and I was starting to wonder if I ever would again."

Clover blushed deeply at her words, his cheeks feeling warmer than they had in a while. Even though he had grown accustomed to her constant presence ever since the incident, something about the way she said it started to make him feel shy around her all over again.

"Come on," she said, having quickly noticed his sudden withdrawal. "Let's walk around for a bit."

It was late enough that they didn't see many other ponies wandering the streets. When they did run into others, all they received were a few polite nods before going on their way. Clover could've sworn that every so often one of them would look at him strangely, probably because of the cloak he was wearing. Although none of them actually said anything to that extent, something just felt strange about the way they were looking at him.

He tried not to let it bother him. The cool air helped settle his nerves, and the company of the beautiful mare by his side made him feel at peace. She had slid up beside him some time ago. A simple gesture, but it was enough to put his soul at ease, allowing him to hope that everything would be all right.

Their walk had taken them through a small park when something caught Clover's eye. A faint light glimmered in the darkness, and he could see ponies gathered around it. He couldn't make out much more more than, but there was something about how quiet they were that drew his attention.

"What is that?" Clover asked aloud.

Azalea perked up at his voice. She looked like she had been about to fall asleep even as they walked, so she really hadn't been paying too much attention to their surroundings. She screwed her eyes in the direction of the distant ponies, her face falling when she saw them.

"I don't know," she said quickly, averting her eyes. "But I don't think we should bother them. Let's just keep going."

However, there was something about the other ponies that Clover couldn't easily dismiss. "It'll only take a moment," he said as he veered in the new direction. "I just want to know what happening."

Azalea reached out a hoof to stop him, but he was already out of reach. She hurried after him, neglecting to call out to him lest she draw unwanted attention their way.

As it turned out, there were a lot more unicorns gathered together than he had first thought. They had sort of blended into the darkness, but as Clover got closer, he could now see that there were actually quite a few of them gathered there.

It didn't take long for Clover to see what had drawn everyone's attention. He saw it around the same time he heard the unmistakable sound of ponies weeping, and his breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight.

A stone monument had been constructed, right there, in the middle of the park, with a small flame resting at its center. The names and cutie marks of a number of ponies found illuminated on its surface, and as he looked over the names, he was unable to stay standing as he took it all in.

It was everyone from his class. Everyone who had died that day. He hadn't known many of them all that well, but they were still gone while he had been left behind. He slowly read over the names, knowing who he'd eventually find if he kept going. Still, he pressed onward until he found who he was looking for.

Pyrus Sunflare. His friend. His name was listed there with the rest of them. He had already accepted that his friend was gone, he had cried long into the night once the initial shock had finally worn off. But seeing him here, along with everyone else lost that day, brought the tears rushing back.

Water flowed freely from his eyes, settling into his coat or splashing against the ground, as he sat there. He was so caught up in his revived grief that he hadn't noticed Azalea was back by his side until she wrapped a hoof around him and pulled him close.

"Clover... Are you going to be alright?" She asked, keeping her voice low.

Clover lifted his blurred eyes to meet hers. He could just barely make out his own disheveled state reflected in her tender gaze. Like so many times over the last week, just having her nearby helped soothe the pain that continued to eat away at him. He wasn't sure if he would've lasted this long without her nearby.

"I don't know. Probably," he choked out. "Everything's just so unfair. Why'd it have to be us?"

Azalea let out a sigh as she tightened her grip around him. "Because sometimes bad things happen to good ponies," she said. "At least, that's what my mother's always saying. I never really understood what she meant before now. You're not a bad pony, Clover. You just had some really bad luck. That's all."

A pained laugh escaped Clover's lips. "Bad luck, huh," he said. "It's funny. I always believed my cutie mark was suppose to bring me the opposite. At least, that's what everypony always told me."

"It's far too soon to tell," she continued. "But I still think you're pretty lucky. I mean, you survived when nopony else did. That's has to count for something."

"Maybe," he said, his attention turning back to the monument. "I still wish that everypony else was still here, though."

Clover's tears slowly dried as he sat there. Gradually, he started to feel a bit better after finally letting everything out. He may have continued staring at the monument for the rest of the night, but that was when he noticed how quiet it suddenly was.

He hadn't been the only one that was mourning, the wailing of other ponies had been part of what had caught his initial attention. His own sobs had been one of many, blending into the chorus that was everyone's sorrow. However, he hadn't immediately noticed when his voice was the only one still heard.

Clover looked around, only to find the eyes of everyone else looking right at him. He could barely make out their faces in the dim light, but the ones he could see had their eyes narrowed to slits, as if they were looking right through him.

Confusion was Clover's only real response to their reaction, and it continued to be that way until one particular stallion stepped out from the crowd.

He knew this pony. If for no other reason than that his son had taken after his colors so thoroughly. His dark coat and bright orange mane made him stand out from the rest of the crowd, and Clover began to back away once he finally started putting the pieces together. Pieces that should've been obvious, but hadn't been. That was until he came face to face with Pyrus' father, Sunspot.

"You got some nerve showin' yer face after all that happened," the older pony growled. His mane was a mess. The toga wrapped around his body was in complete disarray with splotches of purple and red decorating its surface. Large bags had settled under his eyes and as he got closer, the sour scent of grapes was evident on his breath. "Why... if it weren't for you, my boy would still be here."

The sudden accusation stung as Clover staggered backward. What exactly was he supposed to say to that? Pyrus had been his best friend. He never would've dreamed of allowing any misfortune to befall him. "I..." He opened his mouth in an attempt to form something of a response, but before he could go any further, he was cut off as Azalea pushed her way in front of him.

"Mr. Sunflare," she huffed. A fire seemed to have lit itself under her as she stood tall and flared her nostrils at her troublesome neighbor. "We've been over this. Clover had nothing do with your son's death."

"Maybe not directly," someone from the sidelines spoke up. "But we all saw the way the fire attacked everypony there. Why was he spared when everypony else wasn't?"

"He was just lucky," Azalea hopelessly retorted. It was clear she was losing ground as the others had slowly been forming a circle around them.

"You call that lucky?!" Yet another voice shouted out from the crowd. "Look at the way he covers himself! What is he hiding?! I heard he can't even use magic anymore! He may as well be dead!"

If the earlier words stung, then those ones hit like a kick in the gut. The idea had invaded Clover's thoughts more than once while he recovered, but he hadn't dared voice them. To hear them spoken aloud threatened to tear a fresh hole where his heart should be.

Azalea whirled around, looking for the pony who just said that, but it seemed the rest of the ponies were far from done as they were quickly forming into a mob.

"He's cursed!" Shouted one.

"He'll jinx us all!" Came another.

Cold sweat started to crawl down Clover's back as the other unicorns towered over him. Their eyes almost seemed to glow, leaving him exposed under their piercing gaze.

"I want my daughter back!" The shouts continued.

He looked for an escape. He needed to get out.

"I'll never hear Star Scope's laugh ever again!"

What happened to Azalea? She had somehow gone missing amidst the press of bodies.

"What makes you so special?!"

He was trapped. He couldn't breathe. Everything was getting dark.

Stars flashed across his vision as something hit him. Clover collapsed to the ground and he looked up to see the drunken pony with fire in his eyes and the extended hoof that had just come in contact with his face. "It should have been you," Sunspot snarled through gritted teeth.

That last bit of vitriol was the last thing Clover heard before something took hold of him, and the world was swallowed in a flash of light.

The light went out as fast as it had appeared, and even though the only thing that surrounded him now was the cold and the dark, he still couldn't get the voices out of his head.

Why had he been the only one to survive? What made him so special? How was he supposed to continue with this shell of a life he still had left? Why was he the only one that had to suffer this misfortune?

"You're not cursed, Clover." The words came unbidden. The voice sounded dry, raspy, and so weak that the pony who spoke them may as well have one hoof in the grave.

"Azalea?" Clover called out. His chest still felt heavy, but he pushed aside his own feelings as best he could when he heard how she sounded. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I think so," she said. "But that really took it out of me. I've only used that spell a couple of times before and never in a hurry like that. Any idea where we ended up?"

Clover wasn't sure what spell she might've used, and he was still seeing spots due to the bright light. It took a while longer, but eventually his eyes adjusted enough to the darkness that he could start to make out their surroundings.

"Is that?..." His breath caught when he saw the moon reflecting off the distant water. It swirled around the island, one that he was all too familiar with. "Is that..." He gasped. "How did we end up outside the city?"

"That explains my headache," said Azalea as she rubbed at her temples. "I used a spell to get us out of there. I never expected us to reappear so far away, though."

"Teleportation?!" He exclaimed in shock. Clover had, of course, heard of such magic. It was extremely advanced magic that very few unicorns were able to cast. Those that could were either too old to use it well, or the kind of legend that could only be found in children's stories. Considering how ragged Azalea looked after using it just once, it made sense why it wasn't more commonly used.

"I'll be alright," Azalea said when she saw how he was watching her. "I'll be fine. I just need a moment to catch my breath." She pushed herself up while a few errant sparks still flicked off her horn. They were sparse and didn't emit much light, but that small amount of effort caused her to collapse back on her haunches and she resumed holding a hoof against her apparently aching head. "Ok," she said, sounding a little less confident. "Maybe I need a bit more than a moment. I'm more worried about you, though." She held out a hoof and rested it on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

He wanted to say yes, but the mocking and jeers of the crowd were still too fresh in his memory. He lifted one hoof to rest on the side on his face, the spot where the father of his best friend had hit him. That had probably hurt far more than everything else. How could he go back? How could he face him, and ponies like him, again?

The tears returned again. Although this time they weren't for his fallen friend, or even from the lingering pain of the welt he'd surely have later. He just felt so... lost. Where was he suppose to go? What was he suppose to do? How could be expected to keep going?

"Hey!" Azalea shouted as she attempted to shake him out of his downward spiral. "Listen to me! You're not worthless, Clover. Stop thinking that you are."

"But..." He whimpered. "What good am I, anymore? What good is a broken unicorn to anypony?"

"You listen and you listen well," she refused to be deterred by the crestfallen stallion. "You're gonna do big things one day. Some day, you're going to be the most important pony who ever lived."

Her conviction was so strong that it may as well have been the only lifeline Clover could latch on to. "How could you possibly know that?" He said. "What makes you think I'm so special?"

Azalea let out another sigh. "Sometimes bad things happen to good ponies," she said. "But those good ponies don't have to let it define the rest of their lives. It's like what Elder Lily said. It may not be easy, but if you keep trying, there will always be possibilities. I want to believe in the future, Clover," she said with a tear in her eye. "And I'm not giving up on you."

"But..." Clover wanted to continue protesting, but he stopped when he saw what Azalea was doing.

She had started fiddling with the clasp that held her toga in place. It was difficult at first, she was probably used to manipulating it with her magic, but eventually between her hooves and her teeth, she managed to undo the troublesome clasp. Azalea then paused for only the briefest of moment before slowly unwrapping the cloth from the rest of her body.

Clover sat there agape as the material fell to the ground, leaving the mare's perfectly groomed coat on full display. From her withers all the way down to the flower shaped cutie mark that was her namesake. Every inch of her was absolutely beautiful.

He was more than aware of how fiercely she was blushing as she drew closer to him again. He tried to back away, but there had apparently been a tree right behind him. Unable to escape, he could do nothing but watch as she reached forward and proceeded to remove the cloak she had made for him.

"What are you doing?" Clover choked out. His mind had started racing and fire was now flowing through his veins as he came to his own conclusion. A seemingly impossible conclusion.

Azalea let out a small squeak at his voice, but didn't stop what she doing until she had successfully pried the pony free of his covering. Unlike her own pristine coat, Clover's golden fur was mottled with scars that not even the best healers in the city could fully erase. The burns had left his coat a patchwork mess, and when he realized how exposed he now was, he turned his face away her in shame.

That was until she took hold of his head and forced him to face her. Clover once again found himself looking deep into her pink eyes. Eyes that reflected his own nervousness, letting him know that he wasn't the only one that was suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"You're not worthless, Clover," Azalea repeated her earlier words. "I'll say it as many times as I need to until I get through to you. You're a pony worth knowing and I'm never going to leave your side."

Clover's retort was cut off as he found her soft touch pressed against his lips. His eyes grew wide as she removed her hoof, and he once again opened his mouth to speak, but his words were silenced as her lips met his own. She was warm and even though she had constantly been by his side since the accident, it was only now that her scent truly started to rouse the more primal parts of his brain.

Whatever argument he might have had remained forgotten as her added weight forced him down into the tall grass below. It was slow at first, but they soon began to explore each other with the vigor that only youth possessed, and for the first time since he could remember, Clover didn't worry about what tomorrow might bring.