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Warmth

by CandleEyes

Chapter 4: Busywork

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Busywork

Twilight's quill scratched at the parchment. She was only half-aware of what she was actually writing, but it had to important. She'd never note trivial things, that much was certain. Not in a letter to the Princess.

A letter which, she reminded herself, she was penning herself, despite the fact that there was a dragon who would typically be taking care of that. Yes, it was Hearth's Warming, but duty called!

She sighed and lowered her utensil. Perhaps she too needed to try and appreciate this celebration- a little rest. She snickered. Celestia's star pupil, resting.

She stood up and the proceeded to plop down in a nearby chair, a bowl with cookies beside her. She wondered why she had even bothered to set it out, before lifting a biscuit into the air and biting down on it.

Dark chocolate.

She frowned, closing her eyes.

They snapped open again as she felt fatigue coming over her. That wouldn't do.

Deciding it would be best to finish her task she returned to her writing desk. With an odd presentiment she made a few hurried marks before rolling up the parchment and calling for her assistant.

No answer.

She cursed him under her breath and tried again. "Spike!" Sighing in frustration, she trotted upstairs, where the dragon was sure to be napping away. On the job.

"Spike...!" Moonlight streamed in through a window, and as she gazed upon the makeshift bed before her, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her legs trembled slightly.

The unkempt sheets. The slight indentations from where he had once rested. The shed scales. Twilight exhaled.

She could almost picture him.

Almost.

"S-Spike!" she gasped. Her eyes slowly grew moist. "Oh, Spike..."

Shaking, shivering, she stepped forward and knelt in front of the altar, laying her heard on it.

Next came the tears, flowing unabashedly as their distractions vanished. The memories rushed over her with speed, and kept her gasping for air. Nothing else mattered now- all there was left was the absence of a baby dragon.

Soon she would tire out. Then there were letters to write.

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