“Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty! Aanndd… we’re done! Let’s go, Spike.”
“Finally, Twi! I was starting to feel dizzy, spending so long watching you turn that blasted key ‘round in the keyhole over and over and… oh no, what’s the matter now?!”
“...Just a small thing, Spike. Remind me: what’s the date today on this fine morning?”
“It’s the twenty-fifth, Twi. Which you should know, considering we have a calendar in every single…”
“Oh, no. This won’t do. This won’t do at all…”
Great, here she goes again with one of her random ‘sequences’. When am I going to learn to keep my big yap shut.
“As they always say: ‘Double Means Trouble’. And, as every self-respecting mathematician worth their abacus will tell you, twenty-five multiplied by two equals fifty. So I’m afraid we’re not quite done here, Spike. Lastly, for your information…”
“...Yes?” sigh
“...There isn’t a single calendar hanging in any of the bathrooms, Mr Smart Mouth! So, think about that fact before you start spreading any malicious gossip. Now, where was I… ah, yes. Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three… don’t give me that look, Spike. This’ll only take a few more seconds, tops… and by my inestimable calculations, we’ll still be early for our classes, not late. Please don’t make that whimpering noise either; you’ll only cause me to lose count again. Fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty…”
As Princess Twilight Sparkle began indulging in what had become a number of inexplicable rituals which’d suddenly developed more and more over the past few months, Spike dumped his purple keister on the wet grass nearby to make himself as comfortable as possible, very much aware that he and the distracted alicorn might be there for quite some time.
Wish I’d brought out one of my extended summer special comic books to pass the time with, while she seeks to achieve Celestia-knows-what with her… ‘activities’. Spike watched the anxious administrations of his mistress with a mixture of outward irritation and genuine concern. You just wait. When she gets to sixty, she’ll think of another excuse to keep turning that damn key, like ‘it’s the number of liver spots on Tirek’s back minus the potency of his breath’. Seventy will be ‘the amount of ink blots I left on my desk whilst compiling my most recent Friendship report’. And eighty… uh, eighty… why does that ring a bell…”
“Spike? Are you there?”
“Wh-of course, Twi! Where else would I be, but by your side, glued to your withers, together ‘til the bitter end? And when I say ‘to the end’, I mean it. Have you seen the nice little double-coffin I picked out at Grave Digger’s, just for the two of us? It's even got extra wing space! How long did you say alicorns live for again? I might actually get to do something first, for a change…”
“Less of the morbid humour, Spike… or I might ask you to start seeing someone. I appreciate all this must be frustrating and somewhat baffling for you, but I perform all these *ahem* ‘tasks’ for both our sakes. Y-You see, things could go terribly wrong if I didn’t… um, ‘fulfill’ them, a-and we don’t want to take any chances, do we?
I’m the one that needs to ‘see someone’? Are we sure about that? Spike closed his slit eyes momentarily, before regaling his best friend with what he hoped were a few home truths.“I’ve heard of magical powers, but never ‘magical thinking’, Twi. Seriously, jokes aside… this is really becoming a problem. Before, it was simple neurosis… but now, I fear it might be turning into something more. You know, I can’t keep covering for you at Applejack’s, when you’re counting the exact amount of apples in every barrel down to the last fruit. Or at Rarity’s, when you insist on watching her sow a certain number of stitches, before you let her hoof over your latest dress. And does it really matter whether Flutters has an odd or even amount of birds perched around her cottage? Do you have any idea how difficult it was to round them all up, just so you could itemise each one with your chewed-to-oblivion quill? Why don’t you just tell everypony about your ‘condition’, what might’ve triggered it, and maybe they’ll unders…”
“NO!” The power with which Twilight emitted that forceful response was enough to blow a surprised Spike head-over-tail over the damp lawn, as well as attract the attention of a few curious passers-by. It wasn’t everyday the local Princess they relied heavily upon in traumatic times (they’d been a few of those) displayed such obvious panic… and if whatever concerned her was going to affect the rest of the populace, they wanted to know about it.
“E-Erm, sorry Spike. What I meant to say was… let’s not worry the rest of the girls with my private affairs. They’ve got enough to worry about without my ‘quirks’ getting in the way, so we’ll just leave it for now. A-Anyway… I’ve just thought of something. What did we have for breakfast this morning?”
“B-Break-fast? Wot dat?!” Poor old Spike had been left slightly dazed by Twilight’s unexpected mini-Canterlotian Scream there, and was currently in no fit state to converse about morning edibles, or anything else for that matter.
“I’ll tell you what: nothing. Between making the bedspread so the angle of the quilt and pillows matched in perfect synchronic harmony and scrubbing the lower floor from top to bottom twice to get rid of all those filthy, filthy germs… we just plain forgot, didn’t we? Come on, let’s go back in and cook some oats and boil some water. Do you think Starswirl The Bearded got to where he is by skipping meals? I think not! ‘A healthy body is a healthy mind’, as they say. Just one more thing…”
“W-What’s that, T-Twi?” Who is this ‘they’ she keeps referring to?
“Remember, I like my tea stirred with half a sugar lump exactly eight times. You got that? Eight times. You might not think I’d know the difference between six or seven or eight, but I do. Oh, I do. Come on, let’s get back inside. Too many prying eyes and inquisitive ears out here for my liking…”
I believe her, as hard as it is to… hang on, eight times? Her tea? Eight. Tea. Eight-tea. Eighty. I thought it sounded familiar… arrgh! Now she’s turning me doo-lally as well! Don’t tell me this weird fascination with numbers is contagious. I think I’d go insane. An understandably flustered Spike was kindly levitated back into the castle by a privacy-seeking Twilight, before any potential paparazzi might arrive to quiz her on the root of her bizarre behaviour.
In terms of royal scandals, you could say it was a bit of a step-down from the time a transformed Luna almost doomed Equestria to eternal darkness, or even when Prince Blueblood used Rarity as an equine shield to avoid getting mucky at the Grand Galloping Gala.
She still didn’t want her embarrassing predicament out in the open, though. Not just yet. Maybe one day, she could do a big interview with a glossy magazine about how even the simplest of tasks took an age these days, how annoying it was doing the same things over and over again, what a detrimental impact this undiagnosed condition was having on her life, relationships, not to mention her mental health. I might provide inspiration for other sufferers of this… unknown ailment. I’d receive letters from all over the world, praising my bravery. They may even elect me as patron of a charity! But… no.
Despite the possible benefits both to herself and others of such an illustrious pony drawing attention to a somewhat obscure disorder, Twilight was in no way ready to launch into a full-blown, multi-page, exclusive confessional just yet. W-Whatever would my parents, brother and Cadence say? My closest friends? And Celestia… she’s always looked to me as a bastion of sanity in a mad, crazy world. What would she think if she found out I knew the exact amount of steps from here to the School Of Friendship, that I make absolute sure I don’t derogate from that total every day by even one when I’m walking there? For lack of a technical term, she’d think I’m nuts, that’s what. I barely survived that Lesson Zero fiasco with my reputation intact, I could not cope with that level of rejection from the pony I admire the most. Not even a little bit.
Her mind made up to struggle on as best she could under the trying circumstances, Twilight wasted no more time in slamming the castle door shut with gusto (one, two, three, four times, until it almost fell off its hinges), and immediately felt better now her ‘big secret’ was surely safe for another day.
“Now, let’s get that kettle on, shall we… and remember what I said about the tea… Spike, did you hear me? Please don’t be selfish, this situation affects me a lot more than it does you after all; we’ll just have to cope until it goes away. Please send a note to the students that this morning’s lessons are cancelled again… I’ll try to make it in this afternoon, but no promises… oh no! I’ve just trod a speck of mud onto my nice, clean floor from outside… this simply won’t do. I’ll have to polish and wipe and dust and wash the entire hallway for a third time today before I do anything else… Spike, before you make the tea, could you fetch the mop…? Spike? Where are you going, in such a hurry?! That isn’t the way to the kitchen…”
Sorry, Twilight. I can’t do this anymore. I… you… need help. Whether you like it, or not.
Author's Note
I won't insult your intelligence by telling you what Twilight's 'unknown' disorder shares many traits with, so I'll let you comment about it in the section below.
Sufficed to say, the reason for my habitual hiatuses have a lot in common with said subject, and its somewhat ironic that my 'comeback' revolves around it. Probably not a coincidence.
Anyway, I'm writing this for pleasure not for attention (like some of my other projects, tbh) so I hope it does well, but if not... it's not the end of the world. The catharsis factor alone will be worth it.
Whether you plan to continue with the rest or are just passing through, thanks for reading! 
