I need someone with construction experience!
Everything felt normal to Twilight as she looked over her agenda for the day. She needed to be at day court in the next thirty minutes. However, scribbled in nearly illegible hoof-scratch were the words she did not need to see: review Equestria’s National Budget.
Ugh, Twilight groaned in her mind. Luckily for the princess, she would not be reviewing this accounting mess alone. Her schedule had etched the name ‘Spike’ in bold. With his company, Twilight was bound to not have her mind melt over boring number-crunching and painful magic cramps from changing every number in existence.
She sighed and carried herself to the entrance of Spike’s office. Whatever happens, happens, even if it meant that she was going to suffer. At least she wasn’t going to suffer alone.
With determination, she tapped gently on the door, making it rattle just enough for anyone in the room to hear.
“Spike?”
At first, there was no response. Was Spike busy preparing the documents or had she misread her clock? She shook her head promptly, shaking away those thoughts—not only was she on time, but also misreading her clock was nearly impossible; daylight savings wasn’t for another few weeks anyway, and she always woke up at six-thirty sharp.
Keeping that smile up, she raised her hoof and tried to knock again.
Her hoof nearly came in contact with the door when, suddenly, the entrance to Spike’s office swung open. Out came a gust of wind, leaving Twilight to close her eyes and hope that she wasn’t sent flying. The sound of rattling made Twilight wonder if she was hit by a microburst. Whatever hit her definitely felt like it caused a lotta of damage, and she needed to see it for herself.
Twilight slowly opened her eyes. She gasped as the whiplash had worn off and reality had soaked in with her disappointment, which was immeasurable, unlike the amount of damage she saw.
Despite the lack of carnage, Twilight still felt a bit of trepidation as she peeked her head into the office, looking for her dear friend. Did Spike cause that sudden gust of wind? Because if he didn’t, what caused it? And where was he?
“Spike?”
She peered around the corner and saw him on the ground, nursing his head. “Oops,” Spike muttered, cringing as he tried to stand. He looked up and gasped. “Sorry, Twilight. I didn’t know you were there.”
“I nearly forgot I was here too, until that tornado hit me in the face,” Twilight replied, watching as Spike gripped onto his desk tightly. “You need some help?”
Twilight had walked over to Spike, hoping to act as a brace, but he waved her off. “Thanks, but I’m good. Just need to remember to not stand near anything when I sneeze. Can’t risk burning down my office if my body wants to spit fire.”
“You wouldn’t burn down your office, Spike. I’m sure of it. I’m just glad you’re okay. That sneeze sounded vicious.” Twilight said, shying away from the dragon. She kept herself close though, making sure to duck her head in case the dragon stumbled.
“Can’t be too careful,” Spike replied as he held himself with his right claw, steadying himself. “And as for the sneeze, that’s totally normal, except the tornado part. That one was new.”
Twilight giggled. “Well I’m glad that I’m still in one piece.”
“I’m glad you are too.”
The two shared a brief smile before laughing like hooligans. It took a while for them to calm down, but with Spike’s alarm clock sounding a twenty-minute warning, they were able to ready themselves in no time at all. The two simultaneously cleared their throats.
“So…”
“So…”
“How ‘bout dat Royal Budget?” Twilight asked rather bluntly, nudging the dragon with her wing.
Spike paused and shimmied behind his desk. “Yeah, how about it,” he droned, rolling his eyes. He opened a drawer and flipped out the documents, before taking a seat behind the desk. “It’s… quite a mess. Lots and lots of numbers… and sleepless nights too.”
“I bet,” Twilight sat down on her haunches. She leaned in to look at the documents as the dragon slid them over for her to view. “You weren’t kidding. It looks like it’s that time of the year again.”
“Are you kidding? This is what it looks like every month,” Spike replied lamely. He licked his lips and sighed. “Luckily for me, I don’t have to suffer alone anymore.”
“I’m glad that we can mutually suffer together, Spike,” Twilight touted, rolling her eyes. “Unfortunately for us, nopony else had the patience or the guts to do this, and if we skipped out on balancing the budget, our treasury would look like a ghost town. And I don’t want fifty-thousand ponies wondering why the roads of Canterlot look unkempt and cracked.”
“Got ya. Make sure to correct the totals for infrastructure. We’ll need to raise about a hundred thousand bits for the next two years to make sure the roads are maintained.”
“Rightfully so!” Twilight declared with a giggle. She adjusted her crown on her head before levitating a quill and inkwell toward her side of the desk. “Anything else I should be worried about in the budget?”
“Right here.” Spike leaned over to point out a specific section of the document with his claws. “The nobles are at it again if you can tell. Lots of ‘requests’ for some reason. Had to make sure I crossed my T’s and dotted my I’s so that the nobles didn’t riot, and to make sure this puppy was ready for you to read.”
“How many T’s and I’s did you write?”
Spike leaned back and stretched his claws. His claw emitted a little popping noise that made Twilight wince. “Does that tell you?”
“Right…” Twilight muttered, recovering from the second-hoof pain she felt. “Do you need to see a specialist?”
“No, more like a therapist.”
Twilight chuckled behind her hoof for a brief moment before giving the dragon a smile. “So, this looks way better than last year’s budget. Actually, anything would look better than last year’s budget.”
Spike rolled his eyes and held his head, groaning. “I don’t even want to think of last year’s budget…”
“Same, but the comparison is apparent, Spike. I mean, we didn’t know that Pinkie Pie was going to throw a massive party that posed a national security threat! I mean, I know why it was a national security threat, but I really wish it wasn’t. That party plunged us in debt, which flung a huge wingful of bits out of our reserves…”
Twilight’s voice drifted off as Spike stared at nothing in particular. He had done his job well, if his claw that was tweaking from last night's writing shenanigans had anything to say about it. Fortunately for him, he had a night with Starlight to look forward to. His relationship with the mare was finally going steady, but Twilight didn’t know that yet. She’d get the news eventually, when Spike was confident that he was going to score, that is. Not that he kept count.
“Hopefully with a bit more funding in health and education, ponies will be confident that we’re a safe haven for healthy discussions and—Spike, are you okay?”
“Uhh,” Spike muttered to himself. “Yeah, totally.”
“Did you hear anything I said?”
“Funding in health and education, and counting—er, making sure we’re not over budget?”
Twilight eyed the dragon down for a moment before giving him a smirk. “Good enough. Thought I lost you for a moment.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I think we’re finished. Could you send me a copy of this so we can move on with our lives?”
Spike shot up out of his seat, giving the mare a hearty salute. “Totally! It’s not like I have a choice.”
She giggled and hopped off her flanks to ensnare the dragon in a full-fledged alicorn winghug. “You’re the best, Spike!” She exclaimed before flying towards the exit. However, before she passed through the threshold, she stopped and magicked her agenda in front of her again. “Hopefully day court goes smoothly.”
“I hope so too, you never know when something just comes out of nowhere and—Twilight, watch out!”
“W-What? Ack!”
Spike leapt toward Twilight and pulled her back inside. The two had slid away from the debris, which had now blocked the entrance to the office, leaving them trapped together in a room with a blazing fire that laughed at their predicament.
“W-What just happened?”
Spike groaned as she released his grip on his friend. “Your horn just shot way too much magic at the ceiling above us.”
“Right, and that’s why there’s a bunch of beams blocking the door.”
“Yep.”
“And that’s why they’re all on fire?”
“Yep.”
Twilight and Spike stared at the fire.
“So, what do we do, Twilight?”
“I don’t know, let me check my agenda,” Twilight said, her head on a swivel. After a couple seconds of searching, she stopped as reality began to sink in and her eyes widened. “Uh, Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you seen my agenda anywhere?”
Spike tilted his head before he began to look through his many pockets, but he didn’t have any pockets. “No. Do you think you…?”
“Yep. Burnt it to a crisp,” Twilight shakily admitted, her voice carrying a last goodbye to her structured life. She wanted to curl up into a ball as her priceless agenda was her guide to being a princess. At the same time, no ruler, heck, no pony cried over a piece of paper, so why should she? Besides, it wouldn’t save them from the burning inferno that she inadvertently caused.
Twilight and Spike stared at the fire… again.
“We need to stop that fire and fast!” Twilight shouted, pointing a hoof at the flames.
Spike nodded. “Glad we’re on the same page. How do you want to go about this?”
“That’s easy. We’ll just do the same thing we do every time, Spike: write a letter to Princess Celestia!” The alicorn had puffed her chest out as she said this, smiling confidently at the dragon. However, as she looked at him once more, she realized that he looked gobsmacked. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Spike’s jaw had batista bombed the floor rather hard. Was his ears deceiving him? “Why are you wanting to tell Celestia about this? Doesn’t that do nothing but let the fire spread?”
“Not at all. By the time you write the letter and send it off, she’ll notice that we’re in trouble and she’ll reply to us immediately. I just know it!”
Spike thought he was looking at a talking tetrahedron. “You’re joking.”
“Joking? In a time like this? Spike, that’s what we always do before running headfirst into friendship problems.”
“No, usually you write them after the fact.”
“Are you sure? I mean, this feels like we need to do it before—”
“Also this isn’t a friendship problem. This is just your whole life story burning down in front of you, with me as your witness.”
“Okay, let me try this from a different angle, then.” She cleared her throat. “We usually write a letter in an emergency such as this.”
“Now that’s a lie too,” Spike growled, pointing a claw at her. “What about that ‘emergency’ where you smashed my head with an anvil?”
“Uh… I wrote a letter to Celestia after you went to bed with brain damage?”
“Right—wait, what?”
“Guess you don’t remember that,” Twilight muttered. The mare shook her head, before growling and snapping her wings out for him to see. “Spike, it doesn’t matter that I gave you a concussion, or that I sent the letter while you were dead asleep! What matters is that I wrote a letter to Celestia after I smashed your skull against a flaming anvil, much like how we need to write a letter to Celestia to stop this fire!”
Spike groaned and held his claws out in front of the distressed mare. “Alright, calm down, Twilight. You’re hyperventilating.”
Twilight's eyes widened as she realized that Spike was right. She was hyperventilating in front of him. She tried to slow her breathing, but to no avail. Thankfully, her assistant noticed this and dragged her to a corner of the room, where she was able to fold her wings to her sides and breathe in some fresh air.
“You good?” Spike asked as he patted her head.
“Y-Yes,” Twilight stuttered out. “I didn’t realize I was hyperventilating like that. I’m sorry if I worried you, Spike.”
“It’s all good,” he said, letting go of her. He got up and began to walk over to his desk. “Now, let me get a piece of paper to write on before we—”
Suddenly, Spike had a piece of paper in his claw, and he wasn’t remotely close to his desk. “Twilight, can you stop using your magic so we don’t cause another fire?”
The mare nodded quickly. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
Spike rolled his eyes and gathered the inkwell and quill, before he sat down next to her. “It’s… fine. Let’s just focus on getting this letter out. What do you want me to write?”
Twilight cleared her throat before she spoke, “‘Dear Prince—er, Celestia, could you please send a unicorn with at least two years of construction experience to assist in putting out this fire—’”
“What.”
“Didn’t you just ask me to tell Celestia what needed to be done?”
“Yes, but—”
“And you trust me with most things, right?”
“Well, other than you possibly burning down the castle or crushing my head with another flaming anvil…”
“Right.” Twilight’s gaze fell away from her assistant. She sighed. “Just trust me, Spike. We should send a letter before we act. Besides, it’s a magical fire, that’s something that needs to be handled with the hooves of a professional.”
“I don’t know,” Spike said, scratching his claw. “You know that fire extinguisher I got installed a few weeks ago could put out most of this.”
“You put a fire extinguisher in your office?”
Spike gave her a very smug smirk and pointed at the brand new fire extinguisher. It hung on the wall close to the pair. How could she not notice the red eyesore? “I don’t know my own strength sometimes, remember? I could accidentally start a fire by simply burping. So, I got one set up here!”
As if on queue, Spike belched loudly, spewing a huge fireball of angst toward Twilight. Luckily, Twilight noticed it just in time, making sure to flail out of the fireball’s way. Meanwhile, Spike quickly covered his snout with his claws, while his eyes grew in size. He kept his claws over his mouth, hoping that he wouldn’t burp for a second time. When the coast was clear, he let go and apologized profusely. “Sorry, Twilight! I didn’t mean to do that on purpose.”
“Glad to know,” Twilight said, deadpanning as she tried to fix her mane. She couldn’t flail fast enough to save a few strands of her hair. The poor burned tips still had embers of a flame, but she snuffed those out with ease.
“Anyway, since we can’t trust each other, can you just write what we need in the letter?”
Spike sighed. Guess he undermined his own point by nearly burning his best friend alive. “Alright, let’s try this again…”
With paper and quill in his claws, he began to jot down what Twilight was saying, “Dear Celestia, could you please send a unicorn with at least two years of construction experience to assist in putting out this fire that is threatening to burn down my castle? I would greatly appreciate it. Sincerely, Princess Twilight. P.S. I’m with Spike and we’re in his office. The fire is spreading quickly, so please hurry.”
Spike finished writing up the letter, signing it off with a quick swiggle of his own name. He smiled and sent it quickly with a rather more-planned burp. A few sparks of magic fluttered down in front of them before fizzling out like fireflies. The two shared a brief smile.
“It’s sent.”
“Yep,” Twilight replied. She dusted herself off with a wing before sitting on her flanks.
“So… how long do we wait?”
“Until she replies?”
“Seriously?” Spike said with a frown. He sat next to the mare as they looked at the flames, which have now climbed up the door jam.
“As much as I can be. Why?”
The dragon rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure she’ll be as quick as you think.”
“That’s nonsense, she would never ignore a letter from me!”
Somewhere in Retirementland (aka Silver Shoals), Celestia was laying out on her porch, rocking in an elongated version of a chair—or was it a couch? Whatever she sat did not matter, all that mattered was that she was experiencing the vast expanse of the coastline, smiling as her mind wandered. She finally didn’t have to think about anything. Nopony needed to look to her for guidance. She no longer felt obligated towards everypony, only to herself… except for her sister, if she deemed it as such. And since her responsibilities were already fulfilled, Celestia could just drift for once. The former royal could finally feel a sense of relaxation, one that overwhelmed her form. The mare let out a sigh, and let her body be whisked away into the—
As luck decided to ruin her day, a letter gently floated onto the tip of Celestia’s muzzle. She yelped as she nearly flew out of her extended rocking chair-couch-thing. The chair-couch-thing spun from the sudden movement, while Celestia hovered wide-eyed above it, rapidly fluttering her wings and panting heavily.
“A letter?” Celestia said, holding a hoof over her chest. Her breathing began to slow as she approached the chair-couch-thingy once again. She moved it back to where it was, before she picked up the letter with her magic. It unraveled a world that Celestia never thought her student would be a part of. Her eyes darted over each word and she gasped.
“Twilight’s castle is burning down? Why would she request a construction company to put out a fire?!”
The alicorn mare began to pace and pace and pace on her patio.
“There’s no way I brought up a princess that cannot do even the simplest of damage control.”
“Why would she think that sending me a letter of all things was the smartest thing to do in this situation?”
“Do I really need to send a unicorn with two years of construction experience to put out a fire?”
A bunch of mini Celestias ranted rampantly in the retired-mare’s mind. They ranted and raved about all the possibilities related to Twilight’s situation, only for them to tire themselves out, leaving the real Celestia to revel in the repressed rage of her ravaged mind. This revenge relished in the hole she dug where part of her patio once stood, which was now a figment of the alicorn’s memory, replaced by a rather ridiculously large sized trench.
Celestia stopped herself to take in her destruction, her unintentional preparation of war. Maybe she needed to lay off the Sunny D, or she needed to stop rolling her r’s.
“I need to stop pacing…” the mare murmured, before hopping on what remained of the patio and sighed. “So, Twilight and Spike are trapped in an office. That is on fire. I need to know more information… but what do I say?”
It didn’t take long for her question to be answered, but not of her own volition.
“Maybe you should tell her to put the fire out, Celestia?”
“Lulu?”
Celestia gawked at her sister, who had just landed on the patio beside her. Luna gave her a cocky grin. “Do you suppose I need to teach her how to use a fire extinguisher?”
“No,” Celestia choked out through a bout of laughter. “But I think we should make sure she’s aware that the fire department funding is not there for show.”
Luna chuckle-snorted while she gently furled her wings. “I suppose that could do the trick. Need me to get your ink and well?
“No… maybe I should also ask her for more information. I know my student, she’s not this incompotent. There has to be a reason for her to send a letter like this.”
“Implying that she is incompotent in some capacity is a bit rude, sister.”
“I rarely tell a lie—” Celestia paused to see Luna’s smirk. “Okay, you’re right. It’s a bit rude, even if it’s somewhat true. Still, I know she wouldn’t send me a letter to put out a simple fire. There’s got to be more to this. Sister, what do you suggest other than saying ‘put out the fire with a fire extinguisher’?”
Lulu sat on her flanks and poked a foreleg at her chin. “Hmm… maybe you should just say, ‘Dear Twilight, I am confused by your letter. Is this more than just a normal fire? If it’s a normal fire, then just use a fire extinguisher. Could you provide more context?’”
“Maybe,” Celestia began softly. She walked a bit away from her sister, only to turn around and walk toward her again. “Even if it was more than just a normal fire, a magical one is put out the same way. The only difference is that you have to chant a magical incantation. Otherwise, it’ll spark up again, right?”
“Correct. It was a short one though, otherwise the fire would’ve just burst into flames again. Do you remember what it was, Celestia?”
Celestia froze. “Ummm… vittu perkele?”
“No… that sounds a bit aggressive.”
“ZGASIĆ OGIEŃ?”
Luna frowned and laid down. “Still no. Besides, isn’t that a bit too far off from Equestrian?”
“You’re right,” Celestia said, before setting her horn ablaze. “I got it! It’s 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥!”
The sound that emitted from the white alicorn was akin to a rooster trying to choke on helium. It didn’t make sense, and it also sounded extremely painful. Luna groaned, rubbing her ears. “Are you trying to shatter my eardrums?”
“No, that’s the incantation. Right?”
“Not even remotely. Also your horn is on fire.”
“Oh 🔥!” Celestia squealed. She patted her horn with her hooves, hoping that it would resolve her issue. Unfortunately, the tip of it still burned with excitement, while the mare with the issue groaned, opting to hold her hooves to sooth a now dreadful ache that shot through her head. “Ugh… maybe I should just tell her to sing ‘Hallelujah, the fire is out’ and maybe the fire will disappear.”
Suddenly, the fire on her head stopped burning, and too, did the ache.
Luna tilted her head. “That must’ve been the chant. The fire is out.”
“And I feel like I didn’t just get assaulted by a pro sumo wrestler,” Celestia breathed out, which made Luna wonder if her sister was dealing with unaccounted side effects. Thankfully, Celestia shook her head. “So, I’ll just go inside and write that letter and—”
“Nonsense, sister, I’ll retrieve your writing utensils while you—” Luna began, only to be interrupted by her gaze finally catching the sight of the broken half of the patio. “—get situated. Uh, sister?”
“Yes?”
“Are you preparing for the Third Griffin Invasion or something?”
Celestia looked at what her dear sister saw and chuckled to herself. “Hehe, I can explain.”
Luna groaned. “Great, how about instead of me retrieving your writing utensils, maybe you can explain how this... war trench came to be inside? Then you can console Twilight with truth in ink.”
“But, she needs this letter—”
“And we need to not cause destruction of equal value. I think having you under my wing will resolve that for now.”
Celestia frowned. She couldn’t do anything to her sister on this front. Heck, she couldn’t even pull rank. They weren’t princesses anymore, and her ‘older sister’ card expired last week. So, with a heavy heart, Celestia followed the younger alicorn, making sure to not fall down the hole she created. They were able to round the corner to the glass sliding door. With a quick flick, Luna opened it with her magic and walked in, leaving Celestia to her final thoughts before she met her sister in battle—er, in a peace deal. Hopefully she’d be able to send Twilight the letter. As soon as she called a repair pony to fix their patio, that is.
Maybe retirement wasn’t so easy after all.
Twilight blinked. It truly had been longer than she expected.
First a minute passed.
Then five.
Then ten.
Then nineteen and five-fifths—
“Twilight, that’s twenty—”
“I know—wait, was I counting out loud?”
Spike nodded. “Yep. You sounded like you couldn’t believe that Celestia hasn’t responded to you yet. Then you started counting to yourself.”
“I… I guess you’re right. Wow, I really am letting myself go—eep!”
Suddenly, Spike belched rather loudly before hacking up the letter that Twilight was so distressed over. It hit her right between the eyes, making the alicorn squeak like a leaky faucet before shaking her head. The dragon tried to snatch it from the mare, hoping to make sure she didn’t use her magic out of impulse, but he was too late, as Twilight had captured it in her magic, raising it to her eye level.
Spike frowned. “Well, I almost got it. What did Celestia say?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Twilight said, receiving a rather curt nod from Spike. She unraveled the letter and began to read it aloud,
“Dear Twilig—uhh, I mean, Princess Twilight and Spike,
It has come to my attention that we need to remind you of your Canterlot fire fighting seminar training—”
Twilight paused to look at the letter. Underneath this sentence was a thick line of black ink that screamed down the paper. It looked like somepony had wrestled a bear once and took that experience to the page. Fortunately for Twilight, she didn’t have to worry about this for long. She sighed and flipped the letter over, finding her mentor’s familiar hoof-writing once again:
“Sorry, Lulu decided to… assist me in writing this letter. Unfortunately, she decided it would be conducive to elaborate on fire protocols and how they benefited the war long ago. Hopefully you don’t mind the scratch outs!
Despite your situation, I am happy to be hearing from you again. I hope that after this little fire we can meet up again for some tea or coffee, whichever you prefer nowadays.
Anyway, I really need to be blunt with you, but I will not be sending you a unicorn with two years of construction experience to put out this fire. If it’s a normal fire, any old fire extinguisher would do the trick. However, if it’s a magical fire, be sure to chant an incantation as the fire is put out. Otherwise, it will just spark aflame again. The incantation to put these out is ‘Hallelujah the fire is out.’ If this is more than either of the two instances I highlighted, please send a letter back detailing your situation. Otherwise, grab your nearest fire extinguisher and start going crazy with unfettered rage—Spike where are you going?”
Spike hopped up and raced to the fire extinguisher. With a bit of unfettered rage, the dragon grabbed the life-saver in red and began spraying the fire-begone while chanting the incantation.
“Hallelujah, the fire is out. Hallelujah, the fire is out. Hallelujah, the fire is out. Hallelujah, the fire is out!”
Twilight, stunned that Spike had leapt into action before she could finish reading the letter, watched as her assistant put the entire room out without much issue.
Spike, meanwhile, wiped the sweat—or was that his pride? He huffed out a breath he was holding before he began removing the debris caused by the fire. His claws carried the charred remains of what was the entrance into the hallway and set them away from anypony who trotted by. Luckily, the only one in the hallway was one of Twilight’s guards, who looked like he just ran a marathon, sweat-pride dripping down his face too. He was armed with a fire extinguisher, decked out in his shiny purple armor, and flushed red in the face.
“Looks like neither of you two heard me over the fire,” the guard huffed. “Are you both okay?”
“Yes,” Spike said. “Took a bit but we were able to put the fire out just fine.”
“G-Good,” the stallion sputtered. He turned away from Spike. “Guess I’ll have to lug this extinguisher back down to the dungeon and—”
Twilight walked out from the room to see Spike glaring at her with as much intensity as the fire he had put out. “Uh…”
“Twilight, why is the only fire extinguisher, other than mine, sitting in the dungeon?”
The mare shrugged. “Oops?”
Spike facepalmed. Maybe he needed to re-enroll her in that firefighter training program Luna was talking about.
“We’re going to have to have a serious discussion on fire safety, Twilight.”
Twilight frowned. “You’re right. Maybe we can reassess the budget for the—”
“Nope. I’ll pay for it. I’d rather we don’t have that expenditure on our books. Besides, if I’m paying for it, I can make sure you’re going to it.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “How did you…?”
“Know?” Spike asked bluntly. Twilight nodded in response, which made the drake chuckle. “Not only did I catch a glimpse of it when I tried grabbing for the letter, but you were the one who said it when you read the letter out loud. You didn’t make this hard for me to figure out.”
Twilight gulped.
It ain’t easy being Twilig—err… Princess Twilight.
Author's Note
This was absolutely cursed and I loved writing every second of it.
