Kingdom Hearts: The Remnant

I was awoken by an unpleasant combination of morning breath and dried blood. My first few lungfuls of air were coughed right the hell out.

I wearily opened my eyes to an ocean of books and scrolls and educational documents. It was Twilight’s Library. And I would have to get used to that.

I felt like crap, and I probably looked like crap, too. With a sigh, I got up from my cot and went into a sitting position. I heard a faint noise that sounded like scratching.

“Spike?” I croaked.

Was that my voice? I cleared my throat, and made another attempt. “Hey, Spike, you there?”

No answer. Little guy was probably still asleep. So what in the hell was making that noise?

I got the feeling that I should probably get out of bed and check to see what the noise was. Upon confirming that nothing was too badly broken to do so, I mentally prepared myself to leave the warm, if rather malodorous, confines of the bedsheets.

Alright, any second now I was going to get up.

Any second now.

I would have fallen right back asleep if my brain hadn’t latched onto that damn scratching noise.

My curiosity began to outweigh my urge to rest my broken self, but goddamnit if I wasn’t gonna find and shut that thing up first. I got up, shakily, and surveyed the room.

Well, for one, it’s a library. Lots of books, and lots of dust, with an incessant stream of particles flitting through the sunbeams flowing in through the windows. In the corner of the room shone a faint purple light. Upon nearing the light, the scratching stopped. I was looking at a tiny desk with a stack of paper and a quill that hovered over an inkwell.

On the top page on the desk, the pen was continuously scribbling what looked to be a running commentary on me.

...subject appears to be afflicted with temporary paralysis upon awakening. Upon emerging, a smell akin to deceased animal stink fills the room. Analysis of air content posits source of stench as unwashed body odor and displaced bodily fluids. Unknown if subject regularly bathes. Subject is approaching current recording position, will necessitate dissuasion if it attempts to interrupt recording process. Currently appears confused. Is reaching hand towar

The writing abruptly stopped. I only noticed the pen hovering in front of my face once I broke my gaze away from the page.  I went cross-eyed just trying to focus on it.

The pen poked the bridge of my nose, causing me to instinctively reach up to swat it away. It flew out of my reach, then looped back down to the parchment and covered the latter half of the page with big bold words:

DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

My normal reaction would have been somewhere along the lines of “Oh shit!”, but screaming loudly in the morning would probably have woken up my hosts. I was a better houseguest than that. I wasn’t, however, mindful of where I was stepping, and found myself on my ass after knocking my foot into the corner of one of the bookcases.

Freaking magic, man.

The pen abandoned its post at the desk and flew up the stairwell and out of sight. After a few seconds, I heard more noises.

“Wha- ow! Ow! Alright! St- gah - stop it! I’m going!”

Shortly afterwards, the quill returned, did its best to look like it was doing a victory dance around my head, and went to lay down on the desk. I heard the sound of foo-hoofsteps down the stairs, and a disheveled, underslept-looking Twilight Sparkle poked her head out of the door and looked around the room.

“Uh, hi,” I ventured from my place on the floor. Twilight’s eyes eventually found their way to me and she brightened a bit, even if it didn’t lend itself too well to her already tired appearance.

“Oh, Rend! You’re up pretty early,” she said.

I once again got up from the floor and popped a few vertebrae in my back for good measure. To my chagrin, I heard the quill scratching again.

“Sorry about that. I’m not a morning person, myself. That demon-pen --” I gestured to the merrily bobbing feather pen “-- didn’t seem to take that into consideration.”

Twilight giggled, but stopped after giving the room a sniff. “What is that smell?”

“Ah, right. Contrary to what that thing’s writing, I swear to God I do actually bathe regularly. Would you be so kind as to...”

“Bathroom’s up the stairs and to the right,” she said, motioning with her head.

“Thank you,” I muttered, hurriedly ascending so as to spare Ponyville as much of the smell as I could.

I finally got to see myself in the mirror after so long.

That wasn’t as positive as you might think it would be.

That quill was brutally honest about the smell. That was probably the only thing worse than my overall appearance. I needed a shave, and probably a haircut to boot. My clothes were hardly ‘clothes’ so much as ‘rags’, only they were probably too dirty to fit that role, either. I had a few minor cuts on my face and arms, and a small line of dried blood started from the corner of my mouth and ended near my chin, and onto my shirt.

I looked like I was plucked from the apocalypse. And that wasn’t... too far from the truth, really.

I sighed. I didn’t need to be thinking about that right now. I had to worry about shedding the stench of a thousand hobos, finding a new change of clothes, apologizing profusely for the burden I’m undoubtedly placing on Twilight and Spike’s shoulders, and I needed a way to repay them for what they’ve done. That was quite a debt I’ve gotten myself into.

I peeled off my shirt first, and was ducking down to take off my shoes before I noticed something off (besides just about everything). Namely, on my right shoulder. Here, let me draw it for you.

Wasn’t the best I could do, but it looked about like that. The interlocking C-shapes seemed almost three-dimensional, despite being apparently tattooed onto my skin. The hollow shape in the center reminded me of a broken link in a chain, for some reason.

...Well, okay, they didn’t remind me much of anything at the time, being recently awoken as I was and still covered in genuine, grade-A Combat Stink. Just remember the broken chain thing. It’ll be important later. I decided to dismiss it for now, seeing as it didn’t hurt and there were worse things to have emblazoned on your right arm in permanent body ink.

For now, cleanliness.

Pony showers are apparently not all that different from our own, only that they’re... cramped. Shorter. I had to stoop down in order for the water (which was heated, how about that) to get my head. I made sure not to use any soap that was too effeminate for my tastes. Didn’t really stop me from smelling like flowers, but ‘Springtime Daisy’ was preferable to ‘Morning Glory Deluxe Ultra-Body-Something-or-Other’. I still felt my manliness decrease with each plut the “Sunflower Sizzle”-scented goop made. They couldn’t have gotten a bar of the stuff? Seriously?

It was around the twenty-minute mark when I realized: I hadn’t even washed my hair yet. And as horrendous as pony soaps were, I hadn’t even breached the horrors that were their shampoos.

Everything had a scent! Everything had to voluminate or de-frizz or restore luster or I don’t even know what! I found myself desperately searching for a bottle of industrial strength “get-the-stank-out,” because that’s what I needed right now.

I was right in the middle of scalping myself with my fingernails when I heard a knock at the door and Spike saying, “Dude, you okay in there? You didn’t drown, did ya?”

I bit down a swear as I answered, “Yeah, I’m alive. Gimme a sec’ longer, okay?”

“Breakfast’s almost ready! I’ll eat your portion if you don’t hurry up!”

Oh no he didn’t. I attacked my poor hair with the vigor of a spartan army in glorious battle. After that was done, I whisked the shower curtains aside... and promptly realized that I only had one set of clothes. The ones I arrived in. On the floor.

I tried to make sure I didn’t swear loud enough for the guys downstairs to hear me.

In the end I was descending the stairs with shinier hair than I’ve had in years, and dirtier clothes than I’ve had in my life. It was an odd contrast, to say the least.

I walked into the kitchen, the conflicting scents of marinated B.O. and sunflower soap fading under the overpowering presence of another, much more pleasant aroma.

Hay Bacon.

Forgive me, Padre, for the sin I am about to commit.

I flopped down onto one of the cushions that served as pony chairs and watched in awe as Spike toted over a plate stacked high with meat-substitute strips straight out of the fryer. I then gave him a flat look as I realized that the heavenly chorus in the background was just him, playing up on how hungry I must have looked.

“Aaaaahhhhhh- okay, fine. I’ll stop.”

Playing games, were we?

I smirked an evil smirk with a malicious gleam in my eye, and said, “Wow, Spike. Didn’t know you could pull off the whole angel voice so well. You do choir?”

He nearly fell off of his stool. I sniggered.

“Who told you?” he asked in a rather quiet voice.

I moved straight past sniggering at that point. When Twilight came in, I was face-down on the table laughing and pounding a fist on the table while Spike chewed grumpily on the end of a hay bacon strip.

“What’s so funny? And why is Rend still wearing... that?”

“He found out about that one week at choir,” Spike grumbled.

She winced. “Ouch.”

I sat up, chuckling again. “And uh, aheh, to answer your second question, I’m still wearing this because it’s the only outfit I have. Didn’t exactly bring a fresh change when I came over.”

She gave me a once-over with a raised eyebrow. “So why are you still wearing it?”

I blinked. “Say what?”

“I mean, it’s all old and dirty, and you probably don’t have to worry about whatever reason you were wearing it to begin with.”

“Say what?”

Twilight sighed, then looked at the ceiling for a minute in thought.

“You don’t need to wear it anymore. Why’d you put it back on?”

“Because I don’t want to be naked!” I said, reaching for a bacon strip.

“What’s wrong with being naked?”

I froze. I looked at my two hosts, as if seeing them for the first time. Both were covered in colors that did not set off the “warning, exposed flesh” alarm in my brain, but both were without a doubt naked as jaybirds. Very large, purple jaybirds. My brain made a noise not unlike a broken transmission.

I gnawed smartly on my bacon before I could say anything stupid. My first impulse was something along the lines of “Oh God, oh God, it’s in my head now”. Suffice to say, I wasn’t thrilled with the mental image. I pinched the bridge of my nose and instead replied, “It’s a human thing.”

Twilight and Spike shared a silent “Ohhhh” of understanding, nodding at me like I had just explained everything. I decided not to pursue the issue and instead ask another question.

“Moving along, where can I go to get some new clothes? I’m just as thrilled to wear these as you are to smell them.”

“Well, I happen to know a pretty good clothier,” Spike said, unnecessarily rolling the “r” on the end of the word. He bit off the end of a bacon strip he’d dipped in something blue and sparkly. “I could put in a good word with her, if you want. Me and her are like-”

Twilight telekinetically shoved the rest of his snack in his mouth, unamused. “We’ll stop by Rarity’s after breakfast. Romeo over here is just trying to make himself look good.”

I sniggered again. “‘Romeo’?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

I shrugged and refocused my attention on the plate of hay bacon, which was getting cold. “Oh, by the way? Dibs.”

Spike groaned and coughed out bits of fried hay

***

As we stepped through the Boutique’s doors, my masculinity started to shrivel up and whine, like a dog being hit with a rolled-up newspaper.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked, cringing slightly. “I didn’t imply somewhere that I wear dresses, do I?”

The place looked fancy as all get out, with drapes tastefully placed around the room, a few flower arrangements near the windows, polished marble flooring, and other such things. There were a few display rooms with pony-shaped mannequins wearing dresses with sinful amounts of shiny precious stones on them, which did their best to burn themselves into my corneas if I stared for more than half a second. Maybe “leaving a lasting impression” had been taken too literally by this Rarity lady.

Before either of them could reply, I heard a sing-song voice, “Coooomiiiiiing~!”

From a doorway on the opposite side of the room stepped a white mare whose mane put the hair commercials on television to shame.

“Twilight, darling! It’s been a dreadfully long while since you paid a visit! And I see you brought a friend, anypony I should knoo-” she focused on me long enough to catch a glimpse of my outfit’s sad state. “-oooooooohhh dear.”

“Hi,” I said. “Bit of an emergency case here.”

“Well, I can see that,” she said, leaning back as if my clothing’s appearance was a vehement, ongoing personal insult. “Whatever happened to your accoutrement, if I may ask? Surely...” she gestured furtively with a hoof at me, “...things such as yourself do not typically cavort around as such?”

“I don’t make it a habit, no,” I said somewhat self-consciously.

She trotted up to me, going over my clothes with a disturbingly critical eye. “Well, we can’t have you dressed like this so long as you’re in Ponyville for...” She looked back at Twilight. “...what’s he here for, exactly?”

“Refugee from a planet eaten by shadow demons,” Twilight provided.

“Right.” Rarity turned back to examining my shredded clothing without missing a beat. “So long as you’re making Ponyville your safe haven -- so sorry to hear that, by the by -- you’ll not gallivant around the place dressed like some grimy diamond dog.”

“And I imagine you plan on enforcing that decree yourself?” I asked, surprisingly calm given the amount of personal space violation occurring.

“So long as it’s in my power, you’ll be dressed to the nines!” she declared, pointing a hoof in the air.

I felt a bead of sweat on my brow. “Promise not to make me a rhinestone cowboy and we’ll talk.”

She giggled. “Rhinestones. Honestly. I go bigger, darling.” She started to magically drag me towards the door she emerged from. I glanced back at Spike and Twilight, mouthing the words “Help me” as I was taken into the labyrinth. They were both grinning like foxes and waving innocently.

Traitors, the both of them.

***

I was taken into a room that was decidedly less lavish than the previous. A large mirror dominated one wall while the other was covered in the freaking color spectrum of fabrics, ribbon, and accessories. The tools of torture, I thought with a grim expression.

Rarity had taken several measuring tapes from a nearby table and trotted up to me. “I’ll have to ask that you remove those rags at once.”

“What.”

She rolled her eyes. “This would be my first time crafting a set of clothing befitting a... err...”

“Human,” I offered.

“Human! Yes, right, I need your measurements to begin, and the sooner we are rid of your crime against fashion, the better!”

Her horn started glowing, moving the tapes closer, ever closer. I backed up into the wall. My heart sank and I offered a small prayer to whatever gods still listened.

***

“I swear you put a stitch through my left shoulder,” I groaned.

“It’s a rough seam, dear, I’ll smooth it out once I’ve finished,” Rarity replied, floating a needle uncomfortably close to me.

“Do you build your outfits around your clients often, or am I just special?”

“If I had a humannequin to dress up, I wouldn’t need the hooves-on approach. New shapes and proportions, you see. Wonderful challenge. Now hold still!”

“Not sure that’s a word- Ow!” My retort was cut off by yet another prick.

She tsked and shook her head. “I said hold still! Now I think you really do have a stitch going in you.”

“You did that on purpose!”

“I most certainly did not, but I may just do it again now if you keep up the crybaby act.”

I put on a wry smile. “So complaining when I’m dragged into the torture chamber and given an amateur acupuncture treatment makes me a cryba- Ow!”

“That was for calling me an amateur. Now hold still before I have to slap you with a paralysis spell. Arms out. Good boy.”

***

I had never been more humiliated in my life. But there’s something to be said for a seamstress who can take you from drab to dapper as hell in under an hour. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that I had multiple outfits in addition to the one I now wore. I had a bag with at least three other changes of clothes, a suit (she insisted I look like serious business when conducting serious business), and a jacket to replace the one I had before. And, thank God, none of them marred my masculinity in the slightest.

“And remember, darling, if you ever need another set of clothes, do stop by~!” Rarity exclaimed, doing the pony-equivalent to a curtsy. It was funny, for sure, but I dared not show it for fear of incurring her wrath. You know what they say, “a mare scorned...” or maybe I’m remembering that wrong. She was a nice lady, of course. A nice lady I’d be avoiding for a few days.

“Thank you, Rarity. And I will.”

Maybe.

Halfway out the door, I realized I still really had nothing to sleep in. But, I decided, an entire hour of FASHION with Rarity was enough for one day. God help me if I start saying “fabulous~!” from diva overexposure.

“...seems better now.”

I overheard Twilight talking in the next room. I slowed.

“You sure?” asked Spike. “When I saw him last night, he looked really messed up. All dirty and jittery, like he’d spent the night in a Quarry Eel nest.”

“Well, it wasn’t that bad, but it was pretty close. Something about those monsters really scared him.”

“Well, I’d be scared, too. They sounded pretty-”

“No, I mean he was terrified,” Twilight interrupted, sounding like she was trying to impress upon him the depth of my hypothetical descent into madness. “I haven’t seen somepony so scared for their life since Rarity fell out of Cloudsdale Colosseum. And even then, she was more in shock than anything. Rend looked like he was about to drop dead.”

Okay, I wasn’t that bad, was I? I was just trying to make sure that damn Heartless died before I did. Pardon me for not being able to keep a straight face while defending the integrity of your home planet. I had more important stuff on my mind at the time, you know?

“...And what was really weird was after we got home and he’d gone to bed.”

What.

“He kept tossing and turning, muttering all night like he’d been having some sort of nightmares.”

Wait. What?

“I tried to use that dream-piercing spell Luna taught me, but nothing came up. Even though I could see the signs of REM sleep, it’s like he wasn’t dreaming at all!”

...What?!

“I’m afraid the monsters might have infected him with some sort of black magic that’s tearing up his mind. I’ve been asking about spells like that in my letters, but the Canterlot Library hasn’t found-”

I stepped into the room and cleared my throat. “Ahem. Hi.”

Twilight gasped and her eyes went to the size of pinpricks. Spike gave a small yelp and quickly put Twilight’s front legs between himself and me. I must have done a good job at looking imposing, even with the bag of clothes in hand.

“Uh, hey! Rend, you’re, uh,” she coughed into a hoof and smiled insincerely. “Looking good.”

I folded my arms. “Really. I was under the impression I looked like I’d spent the night in a whatever nest.”

She wilted. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, walking past them and pushing the door open. “It’s mostly all true anyway. Can’t recall any nightmares, but you seem to have a handle on most of the rest.”

She walked uncertainly to the door I was holding open. “You sound awfully cavalier about all this. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m as okay as you can be after being reminded of a night like that.” She winced. I mentally ground a palm against my forehead. Guilting ponies was not on my to-do list. “Listen,” I sighed. “I'm gonna go ahead and make this easier for the both of us. I’d like it if you just didn't try to hide things. Right now, you and your friends are the only ones I trust. Doing or saying things behind my back isn't helping matters.”

“Alright,” she said, nodding, but the guilt didn’t leave her eyes. Concerning, but I decided not to press the matter. Mention of the previous night right after the full-body treatment from Rarity had sapped a good amount of my energy. As the three of us left Carousel Boutique, I wanted nothing more than to take a nice, relaxing nap. Maybe for the rest of my life.

So, of course, that’s when Pinkie Pie showed up.

I had closed my eyes for but a second, and when they opened again, instead of seeing the cobbled roads of Ponyville, I saw a wide-eyed, slack-jawed, pink-as-all-hell pony sitting on her haunches directly in my path. I almost stumbled over her.

“Uh, hi-” I was interrupted by a massive intake of air that I swear pulled me in a few inches closer.

“OHHHH MY GOSH Twilight! You didn’t tell me you’d made a new friend! What’s his name? Is it a he? Where’d he get those duds? Oh, is he working with Rarity? Oh my gosh, did Rarity hire a new assistant? Where’s this one from? Saddle Arabia? Minotaurkey? Manehatten? He’s not from around here, I don’t think, locals don’t have so many hands. Two. One, two. Two hands. And so many fingers! I don’t think the last thing with fingers I saw had so many fingers! Man, he must be working for Rarity, then, because the last assistant who had fingers she hired only had eight, and this one has ten, and that’s almost a whole twenty five percent more fingers! Think of all the sewing you could do with ten whole fingers! But what am I saying, who cares about sewing, think of all the eating you could do with ten whole fingers! You could eat a whole bag of cheesy puffs and then have the dust on your fingers for a snack later! Which reminds me, I need to buy more cheesy puffs in case of a p... PARTY! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! New friend! He is your friend, right? And if there’s a new friend in Ponyville, we’ve got to throw him a Welcome-To-Ponyville Party! I can’t believe you let me go this long without thinking of it! We’re gonna need banners, and- and party favors! Oh! And cake! I wonder what kind of cake ten-fingered, well-dressed Saddle Arabians eat? Hey, mister! What kind of cake do you like? I need to know, because that’s step one in the Perfect Party in One Hundred and One Steps book! Ohh, I bet it’s red velvet, right? Everypony loves red velvet! Or maybe chocolate with chocolate chips and extra chocolate frosting! No, wait. Angel Food cake! Or is it Devil’s Food cake? I keep getting those mixed up, which you wouldn’t think because they’re pretty much opposite cakes. OHHH, wait, I have an idea! I take Angel Food cake mix and swirl it with Devil’s Food mix, and I make a freak hybrid mutant cake! It’ll either be super delicious or blow up Ponyville, but there’s only one way to find out!”

...Yeah, no, go back up and read it. I had to listen to it, and so do you.

Pinkie ended her tirade with one hoof pointed dramatically in the air. I wasn’t sure why, because I had lost track of what she was saying around halfway.

“...What was that about fingers?”

She looked back at me, blinking.

“Oh!” She put her hoof down, giggling. “Where are my manners? I’m Pinkie Pie! Nice to meetcha!” She stuck her hoof out for a shake, which I eyed warily before I obliged her.

“I’m Rendynn Spire. Uh, you can just call me Rend.”

I flinched when her eyes became larger than ponies normally have them at, which is saying something. “Ooooh!” She pointed a hoof at me, causing me to step back. “You, Rend, are gonna have the best super-duper-ultra-awesomazing-party-in-Ponyville-EVER! Tomorrow! Four o’clock! Be there!”

And with that, she was gone without a trace. I was quite frankly shellshocked. Twilight walked up to me and tapped me with a hoof, startling me into wakefulness. “You get used to it,” she said.

“Used to- What," I sputtered.

“With time,” Spike added.

I blankly started to walk again.

“I’d just like to go home now, everybody...”

***

It was a little past noon when we made it back to Twilight’s library. The cot was dealt with (I suggested it be burned) by way of a cleansing spell from Twilight, which I found to be convenient as hell.

“Since you will be staying with us for the long-term, we’re going to be moving things around in here,” said Twilight.

Let me just say something. I already knew magic was pretty awesome, but having someone like Twilight around just knocked it out of the park. I barely had to lift or move anything. It was great. My only complaint was my dwindling sense of self-reliance. Sure, I could be forgiven for taking a load off after my freaking home planet exploded, but no one wanted to think of themselves as a charity case. Unfortunately for me, that’s what it felt I was rapidly heading towards -- I didn’t need all the help, but it was so much easier to let everypony present do their thing. Go on, make fifty bazillion outfits for free, I‘ll take ‘em. Reorganizing a whole bedroom? Aww, you shouldn’t have. Included continental breakfast? Waiter, table for three.

No one really needed me to do anything, which left me with way too much time to think. And time to think was the last thing I needed or wanted at the moment.

Before I could delve deeper into the dark recesses that were my mind, I heard Twilight say, “And we’re done!”

I looked up to find myself staring at a much smaller bedroom.

“Wait, what happened?” I asked.

Spike popped up from behind Twilight’s bed. “See for yourself! You’ve got your own room now.”

Twilight’s bedroom was originally a large section of the second floor in the library. The area was split in half, with Spike’s basket positioned right next to Twilight’s bed. The long row of bookshelves that dominated one wall were repositioned to make another room, splitting the top floor in half.

One of the smaller bookshelves was fashioned into a door. I pushed through and had to stop myself from feeling terrible. I had my own bed and some light furnishings. A lamp on one of her nightstands, a window, and a few empty bookcases for any interesting books I could find downstairs.

“Oh, God damn it all,” I muttered.

“Rend, what is it?” Twilight replied, coming up beside me.

I gestured vaguely around the room. “This! Everything! I just- There’s-”

She was looking at me with a worried expression. I hated seeing that.

I groaned and set down my bag of clothes at the foot of the bed. I sat down and put my face into my hands.

“Twilight Sparkle, I owe you so very much. You’ve saved my ass twice, gave me a roof over my head, graceful lodging, food that by all rights I shouldn’t be able to digest, let alone eat, referred me to one of the most generous tailors I’ve ever seen, and what have I done? I’ve taken up your free time and your resources and your money. What did I do to earn any of this? Hell, your pink friend is throwing me a freaking party tomorrow! What am I to do, Twilight? Accept it all? I’m a refugee from a destroyed world and would have been happy with a few scraps of food and a few words of goodwill! You’ve got Spike to help with labor and the Princess funding your living expenses? How do I pay you back for all of this? And-” I heard a zipping noise. “Mmmph mphp mpph mphhh...?”

“Rend,” Twilight began. “It’s called ‘being friends.’”

Sister, your definition of friendship is more broad than mine is.

“Me and Spike and everypony else are helping you because we want to. When Rarity sees a cause she finds worthy, she’ll do all in her power to help. Pinkie Pie has a long-standing tradition of throwing a party for every new pony in Ponyville, and you fit the bill. Me and Spike? It wasn’t all that long ago before I discovered just how amazing the power of friendship really is, and you really-”

I held up one hand to silence her and unzipped my newly magicked-into-being zipper-lips with the other.

“Okay, I get it. You enjoy being so generous. But you can see how I feel, right? Imagine if you were suddenly being showered with gifts and found out everything was being done for you. How’d you feel if the only person who wasn’t contributing in any way was you?”

She gave me a vaguely pitying look. “Rend, it’s only been two days. You’ve lost everything-”

“And you’re trying to give me anything to make me feel better. I get it. But the only thing you haven’t given me is the impression that I’m anything but a burden, welcomed or not. It might just be another human thing, but I have kind of a problem with that.”

She was silent for a moment. “You want to belong.”

To put it simply, “Yeah.”

She smiled. “Ponyville is a small town. While the community is always working together one way or another, there is no shortage of needs and work. If you really want to ‘pay’ us back, you can contribute by helping when it’s asked. Some needs are filled- Between me and Spike, we have the library running smoothly!” I heard a grumble from her room. She ignored it. “As I’ve said before, it’s only been two days. Settle in, and we can cross that bridge when we get there, alright?”

I smiled, legitimately, for the first time I found myself on Equus. “Alright. Thanks, Twilight.”

She left me feeling some of the weight lifted off of my shoulders. I was tired, and the bed was definitely something I was thankful for. I was asleep in only a minute or two.

***

Roughly an hour later, Rendynn Spire, still fast asleep, twitched. That twitch made a thump.

That thump caught the ear of Twilight Sparkle, who had been reading a very large book in the other room. She very nearly returned to that book, but a toss and a turn on Rend’s part snagged her curiosity.

A cursory glance told most of the story -- a cold sweat, intermittent spasming, as if being poked or prodded from multiple directions, low, panicked mutterings at something only he could see -- Rend’s slumber was anything but restful.

A minute’s focus brought into memory a scrying spell Twilight had learned from a very recent friend of hers. Its purpose was to peer into a slumbering pony’s mind and interpret the myriad signals within as a coherent image -- a spell to watch dreams, in other words. Rend’s mind was at least reasonably close in function to a pony’s, so the spell should have worked...

...”Should” being the operative word. Twilight was reasonably sure most nightmares didn’t consist solely of a mental “cannot connect” message.

Twilight gave a frustrated grunt, looking back at her abandoned book. It was conceivable that she might go back to just reading and be content never knowing what was giving Rend such trouble. Conceivable, but not at all likely.

Now a mare with a purpose, she trotted briskly to the tree’s kitchen pantry and brought out a box of tea bags. The side of the box had a picture of a happy-looking pony wearing a nightcap, with bags under her eyes. The words underneath read “SANNA TEA -- FOR INSOMNIA EMERGENCIES.”

Not wanting to waste time, she magically gathered a sphere of water from the tap and flash-heated it. At the same time, she broke one of the tea bags open and began whirling the powdered leaves inside around the floating water ball until the entire thing turned ruddy brown. She nodded, satisfied, and directed the steaming liquid into a nearby mug.

She had been taught one other spell pertaining to dreams, but it also required her to go under. Which was a problem, as casting a spell and falling asleep simultaneously had never been all that feasible. Unless, of course, you were under the ever-reliable, slightly peach flavored effects of Sanna.

Twilight drained the mug on her way upstairs. As her limbs began to feel heavy, she lined up the spell in her rapidly-slowing brain. Once in Rend’s room, she laid a horn on his forehead, set the spell off, and promptly went out like a light.

Thump.