Winona

by Obsequiosity

Rating: everyone
Tags: Princess Luna, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Twilight Sparkle, Sad
Length: 3544

Then Twilight looked up at me with this shattered look, and I realized: Her foal is dead on account of I let him realize that we’re all just Winonas.

"Then Twilight looked up at me with this shattered look, and I realized....
Her foal is dead on account of I let him realize that we’re all just Winonas."

The first draft was a co-bronze-medalist in the the MLPChan /fic/ writeoff for December 2012.

The talented Ponychan /art/ denizen Spirit Shine provided us with a beautifully poignant portrait of Spike's First New Year's Alone as a picture prompt (also: was gracious enough to let me use the image as a cover). I ran with it and decided to have Applejack kill Spike.

It's not as bad as it sounds. Luna's there to keep him company.

Published 2013-02-18 08:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-02-18 08:20:01 UTC

Winona

Soon as I saw him, I could tell he was dead. I mean, I might not have as much book learnin’ as the pony following behind me did, but I know what a dead dragon looks like. Out in the elements for that long with nothing but a scarf, and bein’ cold blooded? Wasn’t nothin’ else he could have been, anyhow.

Winona spotted him first on the ridge opposite, gave out a quick snap of a bark and bolted down the hill in the dark, but she couldn’t make it through the drifts of snow. Pegasus ponies lay it down awful thick out in these parts--the way they’re supposed to--and at the bottom of the hill it was gaskin-deep. Winona’s feet could barely reach the ground; I doubted that Twilight would be able to ford her way up the draw without me bustin’ a path through.

That is, until I saw her gallop right past me, using her magic to melt the snow in front of her as fast as she could run. Winona and I hopped into the rut she was carving and followed behind; I did my best to keep my footing in the mud. There’re rules about leaving the snow untouched until Wrap-Up Day, but if there was ever a reason to break them, I can’t think of no better.

She got to the top the ridge and, with a grunt, cleared out a circle of snow at least twenty lengths across. It was somethin’; one second there’s snow nearly stacked to your barrel, and then in a flash of light and steam it’s all gone. Winona just about jumped out of her skin and spent the next few minutes at the edge of the circle of grass and mud, whimpering and wonderin’ whether it was safe to walk on...

I started scannin’ the night sky and wavin’ my hat to flag one the patrol pegasi so I could let ‘em know we found him. Then out of the corner of my eye I see what, if I could live to be as old as Celestia, would still be the most heartbreakin’ thing I'd ever see. Twilight was sitting in the center of her melted circle, caked in mud, lifting Spike up out of the mud. And he was for all the world just as limp as that ragdoll Big Mac got from who-knows-where. She was cradling this dragon in her forelegs like he was her own foal, and in a way he was. He was nearly as old as Apple Bloom, even if he was a baby in dragon years, and she had raised him every step of the way. I had a flash of holding Apple Bloom that way and had to blink it away.

Then Twilight looked up at me with this shattered look, and I realized: I’m standing here with a mother and her dead young ’un, and it’s all my fault. Because I had to go and open my mouth and tell this baby the truth.

Her foal is dead on account of I let him realize that we’re all just Winonas.

Truly, ‘tis a queer sensation to be unsure whether one's self is to be counted as amoung the dead or the living. My companion was most assuredly dead even as they sat weeping into my shoulder, but where my predicament fit into the grand scheme of the cosmos, to this day I do not fathom. Perhaps upon my sister’s awakening, she could intervene and, at the very least, guide the situation to one conclusion or the other, but until then, my body was alive while my essence was trapped in the endless dream of the deceased. I sat beside my unwitting captor and did my best to console, which I admit is not a task for which I have the greatest capacity. In the silence punctuated by sobs, I contemplated how I arrived here.

The space between dreams is a vast expanse of nothing. The stars piled as grains of sand beneath one's hooves and an echoless void above. In resuming my duties after my--shall we say “return”?--I find it a most unpleasant place and spend as little time there as circumstances permit. But as I exited the dream I was in, I saw a dream of a different color, one I had never noticed before, far off in the distance. I must admit curiosity got the better of me, I undertook the rather arduous journey out to the edges of the Somnial Dunes to better examine.

I entered the dream to find a dark, grey Canterlot as seen from the gardens behind the Royal Library. It was cold, so very cold, and a chill wind blew through the air under the heavy clouds. The owner of the dream appeared as an aged purple unicorn as she cowered before a towering leviathan of a dragon. Lights danced in the windows of the Library while scrolls and books were consumed by an inferno of wyrm fire. Ash fell about the unicorn like snow as the beast bellowed, “You said you would never send me away! But here you are, about to leave for somewhere I can’t follow! Why didn’t you tell me!?”

I kept to the shadows and took in all I could. While I have the power to alter dreams at will, one must recognize that nightmares serve their purpose. Often one must suffer through them all the way to their dark conclusions in order to grow and progress; I speak from grave experience on this matter. What was this pony trying to tell herself through this vision of terror?

I studied the aged unicorn closely, catching a glimpse of the unmistakable mark on her flank. This was my sister’s protégé, the one she spoke of with such pride and devotion: Twilight Sparkle.

I gasped at the recognition, which is when the most curious thing happened: the dragon turned to see the source of the noise! Whilst on many an occasion I have deigned to make myself known to the ponies whose dreams I am tasked with keeping watch, their apparitions do not move on their own. I can control them, of course, and the dreamer controls them whether they realize or not, but the visions have no wills of their own. Which meant that Twilight Sparkle was not the dreamer, but merely the dream.

In all my many years, I have only kept watch over the dreams of my little ponies. How came I to wander into the Erebal plane of a dragon?

The day before we found Spike, me and Winona was checkin’ up on the saplings in the north forty. Hearth’s Warming was almost two weeks ago, and we had a few weeks yet until Winter Wrap-Up. Bloomberg was a sickly apple tree in the beginning, and his nephew Dinkins didn’t fall too far from, well, the tree. I was taking care of Dinkins--and Winona was taking care of something else over by Rudy--around the time that Spike came skipping up the road along the fenceline.

“Heya, sugarcube, what brings a junior librariator like you out to the boondocks?” I grinned as I leaned up against the top rail of the fence.

“Applejack! I had to show you the present that Rarity got me for Hearth’s Warming! Isn’t it great?” He motioned to the scarf he had wrapped around his neck, which he wore like it was a blue ribbon from the Championship Rodeo. Course’n it wasn’t blue, it was orange. Or rather, “fluorescent tangerine”, which Rarity had assured me a couple of weeks ago was going to be “all the rage” amongst the toney pony set. Looked like a warning sign to me; but then, I ain’t a part of the toney pony set.

I told him, “That there is a right smart-lookin’ noose, slick. It was awful nice of Miss Rarity to pick you to be one of the very first to wear her new line, wasn’t it?” He started a-grinnin’ from ear to ear at that. He had his hands on the bottom rail and was rocking back and forth on his heels in that “can’t sit still” manner that young ’uns are wont to have.

“So, whatcha doin’?” He asked.

“I’m wrapping Dinkins’ trunk here up in a blanket so he doesn’t get too cold in the snow.”

“Trees can get too cold?”

“Well, Granny Smith says we shouldn’t treat the trees like they have feelings. She says they hate that. And I know we have countless years of tradition, and they’re supposed to be perfectly fine until spring; but these are young trees and I’d’ve hated to find ‘em dead when I could’ve done something about it.”

“Looks like Winona’s trying to keep the trees warm, too!” giggled Spike as he pointed to the yellow snow around Rudy’s trunk.

I’m sure Twilight would’ve said something about “propriety”, but I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I don’t suppose it hurts anything, anyway. C’mere girl!” Winona came bounding toward us from the tree she was investigating and nuzzled her head under my hoof for an ear scratch. “You’re a good girl for the most part, aren’t ya?” I told her as I tousled the fur around her neck. It was about that time I noticed her muzzle and remarked, “You’re getting a mite white in the face lately, ain’t ya old girl?”

Spike furrowed his brow a bit. “How old is Winona, anyway?”

“Well, she’s about a year older than Apple Bloom. But she’s still got a few summers left in her, don’t ya, girl?”

“A few summers?” Spike cocked his head pretty much the same as Winona did.

I sighed. “Well, I don’t like thinking about it that much, Sugarcube, but yeah, nopony lives forever. And dogs don’t live near as long as ponies do.”

He stared at his clawed toes for a moment, like he was doing some math in his head. I started to jump down from the fence and get back to work when he asked me, “And how long do ponies live?”

Fence betwixt us and still had me cornered. I tried to keep it pleasant. “Not nearly as as long as dragons do, I can tell ya that. Dragons live a long time; you’ll be kicking around long after the rest of us are gone. Shucks, you’ll probably give the Princesses a run for their bits when it’s all said and done. But some of us ain’t got that much time, so I got to get back to work. You have a good ‘un, and tell Miss Rarity that I said that her scarf looks good on you.”

And I went back to work checkin’ on the saplings and, so help me Celestia, I thought I was reassuring him. I didn’t realize what I’d done. Not until late in the night, when Twilight was frantically knocking on the door with the note she’d found that said he’d run away so he didn’t have to watch her die before he’d even got done growing up.

The only circumstance more remarkable than finding myself within the dream of a Leviathan, was finding that the beast knew who I was and watching that monster melt away into its waking form, that of a baby dragon. The wyrmling in the charge of my sister’s protégé, in fact.

“You are the one called Spike, are you not? How am I able to enter your dreams?”

“This is a dream? It is a dream, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, young wyrm. And a portentous dream at that. What has troubled you so?”

And so we sat on the steps of the Canterlot Library Garden while the Library behind us burned, and the dragon told me of the events of the day. He told of how, twelve days after Hearth’s Warming Day, he reached an epiphany: With his tremendous lifespan, all of his friends--including his beloved Twilight Sparkle--are going to wither away before his eyes, leaving him to spend the remaining centuries in solitude. Of his decision to spare himself the slow agony of watching them die by leaving home for the wilds where others of his kind live.

As he spoke, I noticed the chill in the air was growing stronger, until it grew to the point that I had to interrupt. “It is growing quite cold, is it not?”

“Yeah, it’s probably snowing where I’m sleeping. I couldn’t find a decent cave, so I started camping under the stars. It’s kinda silly, but I was talking to the stars out there.”

“Talking to the stars?”

“Y’know, I needed someone to talk to, and the stars were there. So I asked, ‘Who would be so cruel to make me live so long when everyone I love is going to be gone in the blink of an eye?’ Y’know what’s really weird? I got the feeling that the stars were listening.”

An answer to the question of how I came to be within this dream suddenly flashed to my mind. “It was not the stars who listened. It was The Mother.”

“Whose mother, now?”

“The Mother of Everything. She Who Birthed The Universe. And She sent me to your dream, because She knows I have trod the very path you are taking your first steps on, and She wants me to ward you away from making the same mistake.”

The small dragon’s eyes grew wide. Truly, learning in one day that one is essentially immortal--and that one also has the ear of The Mother--has a humbling effect, particularly in a child.

“Tell me, young dragon, when your friend Applejack told you of Winona’s inevitable demise, did she appear ready to abandon her pet?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Indeed. Because your friend knows something that it took me over a thousand years to realize: you must treasure the time you have with your loved ones while you have them there. Before my--shall we say ‘incident’?--I met countless souls, but only in their dreams. I grew upset that their waking hours were outside of my purview, and that I never truly got to know them as they were. A thousand years later, all those souls are lost to the ravages of time, while I am still here. Waking, dreaming, it matters not; the opportunity to know them further is gone. I now see that I am blessed to see ponies in a light no one else will, and I will not squander that gift any longer. You must understand that you are blessed in a similar way, and will know your friends in a manner that is unique to you. Do you understand?”

The young dragon gazed upon his own feet. “I guess so.”

I stood, in part to leave young Spike to his thoughts--thoughts quite weighty for what is for his race to be considered an infant--and in part to invigorate myself against the biting cold of this dream. How cold it must be wherever his corporeal form is slumbering! I pondered, as I gazed into the horizon of this sunset dream sky.

I have stood in countless dreams, those of old and young ponies alike. Being at the control of the dreamer’s will, they can be unpredictable, and one would be well advised to keep aware of the most minute of details. Unfortunately, the gravity of the subject we had been discussing had distracted me from noticing something about the view in the distance. The dream we were in had taken a certain shape about the edges that I had seen in previous dreams, a crispness and a finality that dreams are usually not permitted. Signs in the distance that the dream was about to become endless.

“Spike, I fear it is time for you wake up.”

“I don’t know how, Princess Luna. Besides, I still have a lot of thoughts I need to sort out.”

“I must insist, young dragon, for if you do not leave this dream soon, you may not be able to leave it ever.”

The pegasi relayed the message to town, and soon enough there were a whole bunch of ponies arriving at the circle of grass and mud in the midst of nowhere. One of them that I recognized as the head nurse from Ponyville Hospital was trying to pry Spike from Twilight’s grip, and not getting too far along with that.

“Miss Sparkle, it’s probably too late, but we need to examine him to be sure.”

“Stay back, I need to concentrate!”

“Sweetie, are you--are you trying a come-to-life spell? Oh, sweetheart, that’s just a name they give it because it makes things move; just let him go and we’ll--”

“I SAID GET BACK!”

I had never seen the “Royal Canterlot Voice” projected by anyone other than a royal princess. However, I had seen that barrier spell she used before. Her brother had pushed every changeling out of of Canterlot without touching the other ponies. Twilight had just shoved all the search party out into the snow. The only ones left in the circle were me, Twilight and Spike.

She was mumbling as she continued to focus her magic, “I’ll push the diaphragm up and down, I’ll contract the heart for a little while, but you have to wake up and keep it going, Spike. You have to wake up and do this yourself...”

Twilight’s eyes shut tight as she levitated Spike into the air. Then her eyes flew open bright white with magical power, and--this is Honest Applejack here, so you know I ain’t makin’ this up--he started breathing again.

As the young dragon and I sat there on the steps leading into the garden, the fact two long-lived but lonely fools had managed to stumble into a situation where they would never need to worry about companionship ever again nearly drove me to chuckle out loud. One could suppose that despite the frigid temperature, being in Canterlot at sunset for eternity wasn’t the worst fate one could suffer. For that matter, it seemed as if we were getting used to the cold; at least it felt warmer.

Spike continued to cry while latched onto my shoulder, eventually gaining enough composure to be able to speak again.

“It’s not fair! I finally decide to go back home and now you tell me I can’t?”

“I am afraid not, young one. We appear to be caught in The Eternal Dream, and there is no waking up from that.”

“But I miss Twilight.”

“Well, this *is* a dream, little one. With time, you may grow to control it and see her whenever you like for as long as you like.”

“No, not a dream Twilight! I want one that’s real. I want my time back with the real her, even if it isn’t going to last forever.”

I bolted upright and turned away, so as to hide the tears I could feel welling from within.

“I miss her so badly, it’s almost like I can hear her calling me to wake up.”

“Did--did you say you can hear her?” I scanned the horizon, and I have never been so overjoyed to see the hazy indeterminate form of the edge of a dream than I have at that moment. “Spike! You really can hear her!”

“I can? That’s really her?”

“Yes! Focus on that voice, and go to where it is.” I found myself wrapping my forelegs around the young dragon and squeezing tightly. “Go back to her,” I smiled, “And I shall see you in the daylight, Spike.”

He closed his eyes tightly, focusing on what he heard. Just as I started distinctly hearing the voice of Twilight Sparkle reverberate throughout the dreamscape, the dream vanished.

I was in the void between dreams. A cold, empty place. But not as cold and empty as I had supposed.

I am telling you, that dragon was dead. And then he was breathing again. Durndest thing I ever seen.

As soon as he opened his eyes, Twilight smiled a weak little smile before collapsing. I lunged forward to catch her, just in time for the leviation spell to break and drop Spike on the both of us. It took a bit before the other ponies who had been keeping their distance finally started crowding forward. If their jaws had dropped in awe at being shoved around by the barrier spell, the breathing dead dragon drove those jaws into the ground deep enough to plant turnips.

So there I am with Twilight all but snoring on my shoulder, I’m holding a weak but somehow alive dead baby dragon, all these medical ponies crowding around me trying to figure out how she did it, and to top it all off Winona finally got enough courage to enter the circle and was jumping around and barking her fool head off.

“Hush, girl!” I tried to calm her down.

Spike reached out and ran a clawed hand down Twilight's mane that was matted down with mud and sweat and a mother's nightmares. "Applejack?” he said weakly.

“Yeah, sugarcube?”

“While she’s still here, can you make sure Winona knows she’s loved?”

I gave him and Twilight a hug, “She already knows, Sugarcube. She already knows.”