Immature
by The Descendant
Chapters
- Chapter 1: The Scent of a Mare
- Chapter 2: An Inconvenient Truth
- Chapter 3: Her Imperfect Motives
- Chapter 4: Those Who Love Us
- Chapter 5: Losses and Gains
Chapter 1: The Scent of a Mare
Immature
Cover Art Vectors By:
Written by The Descendant
Editors:
Chapter 1: The Scent of a Mare
“Shoot,” Twilight whispered, lifting her head once again. She drew more of the sweet scent of the mare’s perfume, of the intoxicating scent that drifted around her.
“Shoot,” Twilight muttered, making sure not to let the word float too far out of the bedroom. As she swam in the aroma, she looked to the bed where the beautiful mare had lain. She let the bucket of soapy water lower to the ground outside the door, putting aside her purpose for entering the room… and instead she simply stared at the bed.
Twilight thought of the mare’s eyes fluttering open in the morning, greeting her as she woke the pony. Twilight thought of the gentle curves of the mare’s body as she stretched and rolled side-to-side upon the bed, making little cooing sounds as she awoke.
“Shoot,” Twilight repeated quietly. She thought of the mare leaving the bed, her stunning silhouette standing out amid the rays of morning sunlight that came streaming in through the bedroom window.
Twilight looked at the abandoned dresser. A few days prior, it had been covered with a line of neatly arranged combs and brushes, perfumes and powders.
Twilight’s memories sang with the image of the mare that had stood in the cascade of sunlight, humming a little tune. The brushes had run through her mane, pulling out even the slightest imperfection until the curls once more bounced in their prescribed places.
“Shoot,” Twilight whispered again, letting the lingering scent of the mare catch in her nostrils, letting it excite her senses.
The guest bedroom stood empty now, but each of these memories of awakening their guests sat upon her heavily. After waking the older mare, after watching the lady prance and hum and sing in her boudoir, Twilight had been filled with an unfamiliar emotion, one that only grew when they had shared the space.
One morning, as the delicate perfumes had lifted around the room, a realization had struck her.
It had frightened her, made her jump in place. She had tried her best to hide her reaction, to keep it in check as she had watched the older mare wake the filly.
How tender she had been with her little sister. How happily she had woken the child with a kiss. That had stuck with Twilight. She had felt the slightest pang of jealousy as she had watched the mare guide the brushes over her sister’s mane with long, delicate strokes, carefully lifting away any tangles.
Twilight’s mind had betrayed her. It had made her think of how nice it would feel to be awakened by the kiss of the mare each morning, to have the mare gently draw her brushes across her mane, her tail, her…
Twilight had left the room, a bright blush across her face.
Now, a week after their departure, Twilight stood in the room once more. She drew deep breaths, trying to capture whatever traces of Rarity’s perfume still remained.
"Shoot,” she said aloud. “Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!”
Twilight gave an exasperated sigh. Her head sank down until it rested against her chest.
“Shoot,” she repeated one last time, watching as the white bar of soap floated around in the bucket. “I’m in love.”
A month ago, Carousel Boutique had fallen victim to a fire.
It had been large enough to send a pall of black, acidic smoke across Ponyville, causing no small amount of panic in everypony who saw it. At once their friends had gathered Sweetie Belle and Rarity into embraces, holding the pair and assuring them that all would be all right.
At that moment the fireponies had thrown the charred remains of Rarity’s anxiety sofa out of a second story window and into the street. It had promptly shattered into kindling and velvet scraps. Spike had caught her as she’d swooned and fainted away.
Happily, the damage was not as bad as it could have been.
Yes, the carpet and drapes all had to be replaced, but the insurance covered that. Yes, Rarity had lost a fair number of her creations to the flames, but only old stock. Yes, Sweetie Belle had learned that she would not earn a cutie mark for discovering new bathroom cleansers, but her eyebrows had grown back beautifully.
Twilight and Spike had offered their small home to the two forlorn ponies.
Much to Spike’s delight, Rarity had agreed.
Sweetie Belle, who had been assigned to live with Rarity during her parent’s annual re-enactment of their honeymoon, had been less than thrilled about spending the time living in a library.
Although Twilight had insisted on spending some quality learning time with her newest tenant, the atmosphere around the library had become far more… open, almost liberated, than before. She had taken awhile to realize it, but having Rarity there, and Sweetie Belle, made everything more… alive.
The days had not passed without incident, of course.
More than one pony that had come to the library in the pursuit of knowledge had found themselves assailed by the seamstress. Most who had come in search of information had left with new coats, dresses, and entire wardrobes.
On the other hoof, fashionable ponies that had come in search of the exiled fashionista had accidentally left wearing new ensembles constructed from expired magazines, discarded books, and mixed periodicals. The designs had been quite the fad among the more literate hipsters of Canterlot during that fashion/reading season.
The summer that Rarity and Sweetie Belle had spent living in the library… it had been a happy time.
And, when Twilight thought back on it, she saw all of the little things that had added up to her realization.
It had felt good, listening to Rarity hum her little tunes. The sound of the unicorn’s voice had become a melody that Twilight had floated in, literally pausing whatever she had been doing at the time to listen as Rarity said trivial things. Just to listen…
It had felt good, watching Rarity carry herself with her elegance and grace. Twilight had found herself pausing to admire Rarity’s body more and more, taking in the sight of her friend.
It had felt good, the little physical contacts that she had made with Rarity. Twilight had found herself letting Spike go play with Sweetie Belle instead of washing the dishes, just so that she could brush beside her as she’d placed dishes in the cupboard. She had leaned ever so gently against the mare as they’d sat on the rug, watching the children play. Twilight’s breath had escaped her when Rarity had given her a little nuzzle, congratulating her on some small discovery.
Rarity’s touch, her scent, her voice… these had begun falling through Twilight in ways that she’d never imagined that they could, that she had never thought that a mare could bring from her.
Those feelings rolled around inside of her in ways that she fought to gain control of, place somewhere where she could rationally examine them. She had felt crushes before, but this was no crush. This was love, and there is nothing more irrational in the world…
…and it scared her.
It scared her because the world was an unpredictable place. It scared her because it had unraveled in front of her, draping uncertainty and confusion around her.
What will my family think? she had asked herself. What will Princess Celestia, the girls…
…most importantly, Spike.
Twilight forced herself out of her reflection. The memory of what she had done to Spike, what she had done to the little boy who loved her, lashed at her with guilt, fighting with the euphoric feelings for a place in her conscious thoughts.
It was in the pursuit of those happy feelings, to discover what they meant, that she had wounded Spike.
And now she prepared to damage him again.
“Shoot,” she said one last time, and then left the guest bedroom behind. The memories of Rarity’s time there followed her, clinging to her as she made her way back out into the library.
“Spike?” she asked the room at large. “Spiiiike!”
“Yeah?” he said, appearing around the corner, only just leaping in time to avoid stepping in the bucket of soapy water. The colorful apron that Rarity had made for him a year ago was wrapped tight around him, and a duster sat in his hand. “What’s up, Twi?”
Twilight’s eyes fell across the apron. She imagined Rarity carefully sewing it together, humming happily as it took shape. She remembered Rarity presenting it to Spike, and the great, warm hug that he had given her in thanks. The thought of it made an emotion rise up, one that…
No, she had already hurt Spike that way before. She would not do that to him again.
No, she thought to herself, you’re going to hurt him in an entirely different way, aren’t you?
The thought knocked her out of her contemplation. She looked down to see Spike still standing before her, looking up to her with an arched eyebrow.
“Hello, Twilight? Anybody home?” he said, putting one of his hands on his hips. The rubber glove squeaked a little as it slid across his scales. His other hand lifted the duster, and he tickled her beneath the chin.
Twilight gave a little giggle. “Sorry, Spike,” she chuckled, “I got lost in thought for a second.”
“Whattcha thinkin’ about, Twi?” he inquired, leaning forward on the duster as though it were a cane.
The graceful, elegant curves of Rarity’s body shot through Twilight’s mind. The unicorn’s light, lilting tones and the flash of her eyes lingered in her perception.
“Ummm, something,” Twilight said, her eyes shifting back and forth. “Sooo, what are you doing?”
“Heh,” he answered, “the chores… like you told me to. Like you tell me to every day, Twi.”
“Oh. Oh! Oh, yeah,” she said, realizing that it was a rather stupid question. She chuckled a nervous chuckle before turning back to her little dragon. “Well, how about you take a break, okay? Or, well, how about you just take the rest of the day–”
“Done!” Spike called, tossing the apron and rubber gloves across the room and into a laundry bin. “Three points!”
“–off,” she concluded.
Spike smiled, and a certain subtle happiness seemed to settle over him. Just a simple thing like that had been enough to bring her great little guy some contentment. Such a simple thing had made some joy bubble through him.
Twilight tried to reply to his big, toothy smile. Although she tried, all that she could force onto her face was a sort of subdued, subtle grin.
You’re going to hurt him, she told herself. Again. You monster.
“So, Spike, is there anything you’d like to do today?” she asked, fighting to keep the grin plastered to her face.
“Huh, well, actually I was kinda thinking about…”
“Play a game! That’s a great idea!” Twilight answered, placing her hoof over his mouth. The whelp stared back at her with more than a little surprise, but eventually his demeanor settled into one of resolute acceptance.
Yes, Spike, she thought, we’re going to play a game. It’s not going to be easy for you, and I’m sorry. I’m very sorry for this, and for what I did to you before. You didn’t deserve that, and I’ll try to find some way to make it up to you, I swear. But, Spike, right now, we’re going to play a game. Here are the rules…
Twilight looked back at Spike. Her hoof was still pressed over his mouth, silencing him as she prepared herself for the next part. He was actually leaning forward against her hoof… looking quite bored, truth be told.
Here are the rules, Spike, she thought. This doesn’t end until I’ve told you everything. This doesn’t end until anything you feel is laid on the table. And, Spike, no matter what happens next, I promise that I won’t call you immature…
Immature. Her face wrinkled. That was the word of the day… the word to avoid.
The last time, she had used that word as a weapon. Now, she disarmed herself.
He was a boy, just a few years into his double digits. How should he react to what she was about to do? If he wailed, if he screamed, if he started to cry, well… who’s to say that wasn’t the normal, healthy way for a child his age to deal with the pain she was about to cause him?
Twilight startled herself.
Please don’t wail, Spike, she thought. Please don’t scream, please don’t cry…
Twilight’s eyes came back open. An unusual sensation was going down her foreleg, starting at her hoof. Spike still sat with her hoof across his mouth, eyeing her, and only then did she realize what he was doing.
“Blegh! Spike, did you just lick my hoof?!” she said, lifting it from his face and wiping it across the thick, braided rug.
“Oh, c’mon!” he replied. “My lips were falling asleep! Anywho, what kind of game–”
Twilight’s hoof returned to his mouth, silencing the little drake once more. She pressed against him gently just enough to let him know that she had something worth listening to.
“Spike,” she began.
“Mmmumph?” he answered from behind her hoof.
“Spike… I know something you don’t know!” she said in a singsong rhythm, one that sat around the room happily. Yet, a noticeable taste of melancholy was wrapped in the tones.
Spike’s eyebrow arched again, and as Twilight lifted her hoof from his lips once again, his look of puzzlement remained.
“Spike,” she said, braving the words, “I… I have feelings for somepony. Guess who.”
Spike stood there blinking at her for a few moments. Eventually, his arms folded across his chest and he gave a little smirk.
“Yeah, cute, Twi,” he said. “Not much of a game. You’ve only been having me send letters to Brash Entry since we got back from that ape-world place on the other side of the portal…”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Spike,” she said, “you know that’s not his name.”
“Who, Cash Empty?” he said, smirking wider. “Mash Gentry?”
She swung her head back and forth, disapproving of his little game even as she tried to hide her smile. It was a game that he’d been playing ever since he’d smiled up at her after they had come back through the portal, ever since he had seen her blushing in the presence of a young Crystal Guard stallion.
“So, you finally gonna confess to Gash Supplementary?” he said, more than a little sadness hanging in his voice, surprising her with the ring of remorse that went through his tone.
Despite wondering where it arose from, it wasn’t enough to excuse his poor phonemic choices.
“‘Gash Supplementary’, Spike? That’s a new one… not your best, either,” she said, looking at him dubiously.
“Hey, there are only so many words that rhyme with ‘sentry’, Twi,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “So,” he continued, a sigh present in his tones, “you want me to start writing the letter?”
“No,” she said with a chuckle. “No I don’t. You guessed wrong, Spike. Go ahead, try again!”
“No, wait, really?” he said, surprise spilling out of him, pooling at his feet. “You’ve… you’ve been all googly-eyed at his name ever since we got back, how can… You stood by the freakin’ mail box three days in a row waiting…”
Spike lifted his hands, and his head shook back and forth.
“Bwaahh?” he squeaked.
“Well,” answered a blushing Twilight, “I-I came to realize, Spike, that I don’t really have much in common with–”
“Crash Assembly!” he called, smirking even broader than he had before.
She rolled her eyes. That had been the worst one yet.
“–and I’ve come to think that my crush on him had to do with the hormones that were rushing around in the body of that odd creature I became on the other side of the mirror. So, basically,” she added, “it was a matter of body chemistry, one that was strong enough to leave emotional consequences when I returned to Equestria. Basically, it was just the hormones. Teenage hormones… you see.”
Spike’s hands settled on his hips, and he looked up to her with a smarmy grin.
“What?” she asked.
“Twilight,” he said, “that’s so high school…”
Twilight gave an exasperated groan. As she watched Spike laugh at his own joke, a wicked smile went over her face.
“Oh, really?” she said, drawing the words out. “I hardly think that I’m the only one who brought back some traits inherent to the species they became on the other side of the mirror, Spike.”
Spike stopped laughing. “I’m down to one doggy biscuit a day, Twi. I swear!”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about that, my little puppy,” she said, her lips curling into an unwholesome grin. “I was talking about how you took a great big sniff of–”
Two clawed hands immediately pressed themselves against her lips, the dragon taking his turn to quickly silence the mare.
“You said you wouldn’t mention that again!” he cried, abject horror sinking through his expression.
He leaned farther into her face, his hands still pressed to her lips.
“It was just the one time!” he shrieked.
He danced about in place, anxiety coasting around him.
“W-we settled out-of-court!”
“Okay, okay, Spike,” she said as her magic lifted his hands. She chuckled a little as the dragon held his head, remembering the consequences of his canine conniption.
“Oh jeez, the gardening… so much gardening… Roseluck still looks at me funny…”
“Okay, well, getting back to the topic of me having feelings for another pony,” she began again.
“Sooo much gardening,” he answered, shuddering a bit. “So. Much. Gardening.”
Twilight waited for him to recover. After a few long moments they returned to staring at one another, Twilight still trying to move the conversation towards the hardest part, towards the reason for this whole façade.
“So, it’s not him,” she said, a sigh lifting from her.
“Good, I’m glad,” Spike said.
“W-what?” Twilight answered, her sigh catching in her throat, making her sputter. “What… what do you mean by that?! He wasn’t a bad guy at all, it’s just that…”
“Think about it, Twi,” Spike said, lifting a finger. He drove it into the palm of his other hand as he made some very interesting points.
“He was a handsome, blue-maned stallion. He looked good in a uniform, and had a military career. He was cool... really cool, with like guitars and music and stuff. He was a nice guy, really. He wasn’t into books or history or science or anything smart like that.”
He looked back up to her with a knowing glare.
“Really… think about it, Twi. Could you have been trying any harder to date Shining Armor?”
Twilight’s eyes went wide, and the room suddenly seemed to flip over, or perhaps it was just her stomach… most of her internal organs, actually. Little sounds of disbelief came from somewhere inside her throat as her eyes fell down into tiny pinpricks of purple.
There was a splintering sound, and little chunks of wood seemed to fly about in her perception.
Spike sighed, and then walked over to her and lifted her jaw back into her head. It had gone crashing through the floorboards and into the basement. “Yeah,” he said, moving the carpet over the hole that her mandible had left in the floor, “kinda creepy when ya think about it, huh?”
Twilight’s body gave a full shudder.
“W-well,” she said, fighting her way back to rational thought, “t-that certainly explains why Cadence has been looking at me funny for the last few months…”
Little sounds of discomfort floated around the room. The two cleared their throats. The dragon twiddled his thumbs, and the alicorn looked at the fireplace.
“Plus…” Spike said in a small voice, breaking the silence.
“Plus?” Twilight answered, lifting her head to look at him.
Spike stood up, and with a little resolve he told her a truth that he had been hiding.
“He wasn’t good enough for you, Twi,” the dragon said, forcing the words to come, revealing a secret that he’d been keeping to himself since the day that they’d returned home. “He didn’t deserve you anyway. He just wouldn’t have been good enough for you, Twi, I think… so, yeah…”
Spike stood there for a second, running his hand up and down his arm. It didn’t last long before he was wrapped in a pair of forelegs and pulled into a deep hug.
“Oh, Spike!” she said. “Don’t feel that way!
“I’m not saying he’s a bad colt, Twi. He seemed great, but… not great enough for you, is all,” Spike said, sinking into her embrace. “I-I want you to have somepony very, very special is all. Somebody who can see how special you are…”
Twilight lowered her head over him.
Don’t put me on a pedestal, Spike, she thought as she held him. I’m just a pony, after all, alicorn or not, and I have somepony who I want to be able to reach me.
“Thank you, Spike, that means a great deal to me. The pony that I’m thinking of… is very special. Wonderful even, and I hope you approve when you find out who it is…”
I really, really, really hope you approve, she thought, or this could be murder.
“That’s great, Twi,” he said softly, placing his head against her chest. “That’s really great.”
Moments drifted by, and Twilight thought about Spike’s words.
Yeah, this is going to be murder. This will kill him.
“Hey, Twi!” he said, bouncing in place. “So, wait, if you really are done thinking about him that way…”
He chuckled a little, and Twilight knew what was coming next.
Oh, Celestia… a joke.
Spike picked up the duster, holding it like it was a microphone. He twirled it around a little, as though he were a Las Pegasus lounge act.
“If you’re done with your crush on him then…”
Twilight looked at him unsurely.
“Wait, wait, you’ll like this one,” Spike chuckled.
Twilight didn’t have much confidence in the statement, but she waited patiently.
“If your crush is already over, then I guess…”
Spike winked.
“…he was just a flash in the pan!”
Twilight’s groan could be heard in the streets outside the library.
“Thank you, thank you!” Spike said, taking a bow. “Don’t forget to tip your wait staff!”
And I promised myself I wouldn’t call him immature during all of this, she thought, watching him bend once again. Still, he was in a good mood. Maybe now was the time to broach the topic once again.
“Yes,” she said, looking for his reaction, “it was just a crush, Spike. It’s over now. It wasn’t anything special. Just like all crushes, it’s passed, right? Crushes are just silly little things… don’t you think?”
Spike stopped in the middle of his bow, shuddering to a stop. The little drake looked back over his shoulder, holding his pose as though he were in the middle of a dance step. His gaze hung in the air, directed at Twilight.
There was a look of betrayal in his eyes, a rejection of her words.
“No,” he said, looking at her like she should know better than to say such a thing. “No, I don’t think that crushes are silly, Twi. I really don’t…”
“Oh,” Twilight answered, letting the word slink across the room.
She watched Spike as he peeked beneath the carpet, staring at the hole her jaw had made. The way he had looked at her when she had said that crushes were silly… that expression hung in her thoughts. Of course Spike wouldn’t think crushes were silly… especially not his crush.
Especially not his crush on...
I overplayed my hoof, she thought. This is going to be so hard for him.
“Twi?”
Twilight returned her gaze to the dragon, and she saw a smile slowly break across his face.
“Ummm, this new stallion, the one you have feelings for...”
Stallion. He had said stallion. She didn’t correct him.
“…are you really, really sure that he’s a great guy? Are you sure that he’s as wonderful as you think he is?”
"Yes, Spike,” she answered, “the pony who I have these feelings for is wonderful. They are warm, creative, friendly, and generous. Actually, it is somepony that I’ve known as a friend quite awhile…”
“Oh!” he said as a smile crept across his face. “That’s cool, I guess.”
Twilight winced inwardly. He had missed her hints.
Wonderful, just wonderful…
She watched as he scooped up the duster once again.
“Alrighty!” he said. “Let’s play ‘Who Wants to Date my Mother-like Sisterly Very Best Friend Thing!’ ” Spike waved as though he were a quiz show host, holding the duster up to his face and smiling broadly. “Let’s meet our contestants!”
Twilight chuckled a little as Spike brushed his frills back, looking the part of a greasy dating show host.
“Is it Big Mac?”
“No, Spike it isn’t,” she answered.
“Caramel?”
“Oh, no…”
“Lucky?”
“Who?”
“You’d know him if ya saw him, Twi,” Spike said. “Guess not, huh? How about Comet Tail?”
“Afraid not.”
“Davenport?”
“Isn’t he a little old for me?” she asked, creasing her face.
“Hey, I don’t judge,” Spike said.
That’s good, she thought, one of the many fears that were accompanying this conversation rearing up in her mind. I hope you mean that, Spike.
“Oh!” Spike said, “Is it Joe? It’s Joe, right?!”
Twilight was a little taken aback by the whelp’s enthusiasm. Spike had known Joe for a great long while. Apart from the Lord Protector of the Nursery, Joe had been the first stallion outside of her family that she could recall Spike opening up to.
“Sorry, Spike,” she said, lowering her voice. “Joe is really nice and all, but he’s not the pony that I’m thinking of. Besides, I hear that he’s quite happy with his marefriend, Allspice.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Spike said in a defeated tone. “I think it would have worked, though. Plus, you’re prettier than Allspice.”
Spike jumped a little, as though surprised by his own words.
Twilight was a little surprised herself, but as the blush sat across her assistant’s face, she smiled at him once more. She leaned forward, nuzzling to him as she giggled happily. “Thank you for saying so, Spike. It means a lot to me that you think I’m pretty.”
“Heh, what can I say?” Spike answered, rising up on his tiptoes a bit to answer her nuzzles. “I call ‘em as I see ‘em, Sister.”
As Spike settled back onto his feet, he tapped the duster against his head, and then scratched the top of his head with the handle.
“Uuuumm… oh. Oh, no, Twi, you aren’t thinking of that doctor, are you? That… that wouldn’t work out well,” Spike said, shaking his head. “That guy doesn’t seem to know where, or when, he is half the time. He’d drive you nuts…”
“No, no it’s not him, she said, putting emphasis on the last word. She was becoming frustrated. She needed to know, before anything else, how Spike would feel about…
“Thunderlane?”
“No, Spike… I…”
“Too bad,” he said with a shake of his head. “Rumble and I could have hung out more.”
She listened as Spike said a few more names, all stallions, and as he did his words slowed, and he scratched his head more and more.
“Hugh Jelly?” he said, seemingly scraping the bottom of the metaphorical barrel.
“Eww,” Twilight said. “Really?”
“That’s all I’ve got, Twi!” Spike said, lifting his arms, signaling his surrender. “Jeez, we… we really need to meet more stallions. Yeah…”
Spike flipped the duster from one hand to the other.
“So, I give up,” he said. “You win, Twilight. Who is the lucky stallion that you’ve got your eye on?”
“Well, Spike,” Twilight began, “I’d… I’d like you to consider something…”
Spike flipped the duster from one hand back to the other, doing so over and over. “Yeah?” he asked, his attention seeming to be divided between the duster and his caregiver. “What’s that, Twi?”
Twilight took a deep breath.
The world was not a predictable place. A month ago, Princess Twilight Sparkle had thought that she’d known herself very well. She had thought that she had, over the course of her two decades, learned all that she’d truly needed to know about herself. She’d known who she was, and she’d been comfortable with that.
Then Rarity had arrived, bursting into her home, their home, and settling new feelings and sensations through Twilight as completely and unexpectedly as the mountains of fabric and sewing supplies that had followed along in the fashionista’s wake.
Now, she sought to broach these feelings to Spike. These new feelings, ones she had never felt for a mare before… these feelings that were washing back and forth through her whenever she imagined the slow, grace-filled motions of Rarity’s walk, or the flash of her eyes, or the tones of her voice. These were what she needed to share with him first. The revelation of who it was would have to come second.
She trusted Spike, and the world was not a predictable place.
Equestria was in many ways idyllic, but she knew it was folly to assume that it was perfect. Certainly, it was more open and accepting than most of the other nations on Equus. The ponies that made up the majority of its population had proven themselves open to differences of all types. For Ponyville, this seemed doubly so. They, after all, had no problem accepting an adorable little dragon as one of their own.
But… unhappy things still lingered. Some things do not change easily, and animal reactions to certain traits still lingered in the backs of some minds. She had heard the whispers during her life, and the hard, unmoving prejudices of some of the more calloused minds still harbored some unspoken biases.
Now that those whispers and jokes applied to her, she suddenly found them louder and more threatening.
What will my family think? she had found herself thinking. What will Princess Celestia think? Will… will the girls still feel comfortable around me?
The more that she had thought about it, the more she had begun to scare herself, the larger the problem had become. She had found herself thinking about all of the times she had seen two mares walking together, close by one another, or two stallions leaning against each other…
…and her mind swept back through the streets, searching for stares in the crowd, trying to see if any harsh, judging eyes were following behind the pairs of ponies.
The world was not a predictable place. That she knew. It was a lot scarier when you began to imagine whispers and stares following you, judging you for a part of yourself over which you had no control.
She trusted Spike. Like so many other things, it had to begin with him.
It had to begin with the dragon whelp that had been a part of her life since the day she’d hatched him. It had to open with the child she had nursed through tummy-aches and molts. It had to start with the boy who had slept in his own little basket at her bedside for a decade.
If he didn’t accept that part of her…
“Spike,” she said, hiding a gulp, “w-what would you say if I said that… that the pony I have feelings for, the one who I can’t stop thinking about, well… if it isn’t a stallion?”
The duster went clattering to the floor, nearly falling down the hole that Twilight’s jaw had created.
Spike had missed the catch as he had thrown the duster from one clawed hand to the other, fumbling with it at the implications of her words.
Chapter 2: An Inconvenient Truth
Chapter 2: An Inconvenient Truth
“Well, what… what do you mean, Twi?” Spike said, bending over to pick up the duster. Confusion sat around his features, and his eyes showed a shadow of doubt.
Twilight took another deep breath.
“Well, Spike,” she said, exhaling softly, “what I mean is… the pony who I feel like I’m falling in love with, the one who I can’t stop thinking about, well… she’s a mare.”
Silence hung around the room.
“She’s a mare, Spike,” Twilight repeated.
Equus was spinning through the universe, slowly rotating around on Celestia’s magic as she moved the solar system around her sun. Photosynthesis was occurring. The water cycle was continuing. All of the great mechanizations of life were going on and on, uninterrupted.
In that moment, you could not have convinced Twilight of such.
As Twilight sat there, staring down at the little drake, her admission hanging around the room, it was as though the world had stopped. As far as she knew, it was as though every creature that was either predator or prey had simply stood still, as though all geological processes and all growth in the world had simply taken a break from the great circle of life and were waiting for the boy’s reaction.
It has to start with him. It has to start with Spike, it has to start with the creature who knows me best. If… if Spike isn’t for me, then I don’t know what I’ll…
“Oh,” Spike said, interrupting her paranoia. He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”
Spike began to juggle the duster back and forth between his clawed hands again, carefully catching it each time, tossing it from left to right, from right to left.
He got to repeat the cycle about three times before he was scooped off the floor, spun about, and pulled deep into a massive hug.
“Spike!” Twilight squealed, joy bubbling through her. “Do you mean it? It doesn’t seem weird or, well… wrong for me to have feelings for a mare? Are… is it really okay to you?”
“Well, I’m a little surprised is all,” he said, wrapping his arms around her forelegs, trying to lift his head to look at her. “I mean, you’ve only ever had two crushes, and they were both on colts. So, yeah, I was surprised.”
“Well, one was when I was little,” she said, giving a self-conscious giggle. “Childhood crushes can hardly count as anything genuine or…”
“I think they can,” he said with a grumble.
Careful, Twilight thought, rebuking herself. You already overstepped once. Not yet. Not yet…
The whelp spun around in her forelegs to face her.
“Twi, all I really care about is if you’re happy, ya know?” he said, laying his head on her shoulder. “If feeling this way makes you happy, and if this pony can make you happy, that’s all I care about. You know that, Twi, I just wanna see you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
A squeal went through the library, an indelicate noise most often associated with little fillies. It was a cry of delight associated with celebrations or parties. It was certainly not associated with alicorn princesses… no more so than rolling around on a library floor, hugging and nuzzling a baby dragon.
Yet, even the most astute observer would note the fact that this was exactly what was transpiring upon the recently punctured floors of Golden Oaks Library.
“Thank you, Spike… again,” she said. “Thank you so much. I was… I was worried that you might not… that the girls might not…”
“Jeez, Twi,” he said, rubbing the spot between her eyes. “Don’t think that way. Wow, just… just don’t think that way. Everypony who loves you just wants you to be happy, not just me. Just, you know, be happy.”
She sat upright, lowering the dragon into the spot between her forelegs, his body pressed into her chest and barrel. For the first time that morning, a sense of relief fell across Twilight Sparkle.
This was going so well.
This was going so much better than she had dared to hope. She had pictured crying and wailing and screaming… and all she had gotten so far was an affirmation that she was loved and big hugs and nuzzles from one of the most important creatures in her life.
This was going so well.
Twilight closed her eyes, and when she did the image of the pony that had set this in motion once more hovered there.
Rarity sat in the living room, working on one of her projects. As the memory of Spike and Sweetie Belle replayed nearby, Twilight felt herself swimming through the memory. She remembered sitting down next to Rarity. She remembered the feel of her coat against hers, the momentary nuzzle, the one that had been far too brief and far to platonic for her growing wants and heart’s desire.
Suddenly, that image seemed as close as it had been since the moment that it had happened. Now, now that she had Spike on her side, now she could move that much closer to accepting these new feelings.
This was going so well. Now, the last little barrier had to be crossed…
…the one that had caused her to hurt him. The one that had caused her to hurt the child she had been entrusted with. To hurt he child who loved her.
It was time to cross that barrier, to lay it all before him.
It was time to hurt him again.
This was going so well.
“Spike,” she said as she lifted away from him, unintentionally sending him teetering to the floor. “We haven’t finished the game!”
“Oh. Oh!” he said, shaking his head. “Do ya still want me to guess who it is? Well, who the mare is, I guess?”
“Y-yes,” she answered, a hesitation entering her voice that she hadn’t anticipated.
Spike looked up to the ceiling. He crossed his arms, and one finger came up to tap against his chin. He stood there for a moment, a contemplative hum going through him.
“Heh,” he said, putting his hands behind his back. “This feels a little weird. I’ve, whoa, I’ve never had to think about what mares you might like, but… Cheerilee?”
Twilight tilted her head.
“Cheerilee is smart like you. She likes books and learning and stuff like that... so, is it Cheerilee?” he asked.
“Hmmm, good guess,” Twilight said. “But, no. Sorry! Try again!”
“Is it the mayor? What’s her real name… uhh, oh yeah, Ivory Script?” he asked, jumping a little as he recounted the name. “She’s super-responsible, like you, and everypony is always counting on her, like you. Is it the mayor, Twi?”
“No,” Twilight answered. “Try again.”
Spike shrunk down. “Don’t say it’s Roseluck. I don’t think I could stand any more gardening.”
“Heh, no, Spike, it’s–”
“So much gardening!” he said as a visible shiver ran across him.
“–not Roseluck. Let me give you a hint. Think about what I said earlier. The mare is somepony I know, one of my friends… one of our friends…”
A momentary shock went through the dragon, and Twilight recognized it. A possibility of something went through his mind, but the dragon shook it off.
No, Spike, she thought, don’t fight it. We have to deal with this…
“Twi?” he asked, gulping slightly. “Are you saying that it’s one of the girls? One of the other Elements of Harmony?”
“Y-yes, Spike, I am,” she said, the hesitancy sinking through her once more.
Spike blinked, and then words began to fall out of him. “It’s Applejack, right? I mean… you two have always relied on each other so much. S-she’s like… strong in ways that you aren’t and stuff, and you’ve always been there for–”
“No,” Twilight said, trying to keep her tone even. “Applejack is a dear friend, and I love her as such, but the mare I’m thinking of, I’ve relied on her too, and she on me. On us…”
Spike blanched, a noticeable shudder going through him. One of the barriers between him and a realization fell away, bringing him that much closer to the truth.
“It’s Dash! It’s Dash, right? She’s so cool and awesome and… and she’s always brought out the best in you! You’ll be great together, Twi!” he sang, almost as though he were attempting to convince Twilight of the fact.
“Dash has always wanted me to do my best,” Twilight answered, doing her best to keep her voice even. “You’re right, she brings out the best in me, and I love her as a friend for that. But, Spike, the mare I’m thinking of has also cheered for me, believed in me…”
Twilight watched as some of the color fell out of the dragon.
“P-pinkie!” he said, the name racing from his lips. He wavered on his feet, looking like a sailor trying to keep his footing on a storm-tossed deck. “I-I hope that it’s Pinkie! Yeah, Pinkie! You two… you two have lots of fun together! She really helped you come out of your shell, and she really taught you how to enjoy yourself! I’m happy for you, Twi! I’m happy that it’s Pinkie… because, ‘cause that means that I get to have a lot more cookies and cupcakes and stuff, right? Right? It’s Pinkie…”
“Spike,” she said in a chiding tone. “Cookies? That’s being a little im-”
She stopped herself short of saying the word. She looked at the dragon. He was starting to breathe heavier, and he was wringing his hands together. He was looking at her like she was about to tell him that Owloysius had died.
“–pulsive,” she said, salvaging the phoneme. “Pinkie is wonderful, and I owe her so much. I love her as a friend, Spike. I owe her so much for helping me learn to enjoy life, but she’s not the mare I–”
“You and Fluttershy will be great together!” he cried, his voice rising. “You both are… cute? You like animals… I guess. You both enjoy... cowering, maybe? I…”
He looked at her, utterly unconvinced. She knew her face was wearing the same dubious expression. She watched as something seemed to drain out of her dragon. His mouth came open, moving up and down of its own accord. He began to shake a little, just at the knees and elbows.
I have to say this, Spike, she thought, watching his eyes as they flew through hers, begging for her to deny the looming truth.
She could not.
“I promise! I’ll try to get along with Angel!” Spike cried
Spike dove to the floor, causing Twilight to backpedal as step. The dragon lunged forward, grasping at her, running his hands through the soft hairs of her coat, wiping them against her chest.
“I’ll do everything I can! I’ll clean her house, too! I’ll learn how to take care of her animals! It’s Fluttershy! It’s Fluttershy! Say that it’s Fluttershy!”
“Spike,” she whispered, watching with no small amount of shock as he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He was bargaining. He was literally bargaining with her, asking her to avoid voicing the looming confession.
“Spike, listen to me…”
“Please say it’s Fluttershy…”
“Spike,” she said, lifting his chin with her hoof. “Spike, the mare who I have these feelings for is very kind… very generous…”
Spike drew a deep breath. His eyes went wide.
“S-she is somepony who I’ve come to know very well, somepony who I’ve only felt closer to over the last month,” Twilight said. “Somepony who I’ve come to realize made me feel this way during the time that she and her sister spent here, with us.”
His arms began to retract slowly, like a plant shriveling in the sun. He withdrew a step, the last of his defenses tumbling around him. His breaths became visible, each one lifting his chest.
Twilight leaned forward, making it so that he looked back up into her eyes. She watched as emotions flew around in his face, as his breaths moved from gulps to shallow draws of air that drove heat across her face.
“Spike,” she said, trying to force her voice to become sweet and unthreatening, trying to make it easier for him. “Spike,” she repeated, his name drifting out of her. “It’s Rarity. I’m in love with Rarity.”
The library slipped into a heavy silence, one that wrapped around them as they sat there on the thick, braided rug before the fireplace. For a long moment, nothing happened. Spike just stood there, his arms wrapped around himself, the boy making shallow, rapid breaths.
They stared into one another’s eyes, and she felt Spike searching through hers, looking for anything to latch onto. She wondered what he was looking for. Did he think it was a joke? Did he think she was lying? What could he…
Spike stepped back, startling her with the quick, darting motion. His head spun around, taking in the sweep of the library.
“I put them back! I promise I did!” he said, looking back to her with panic in his eyes.
Twilight blinked.
“Spike, what do you mean?” she asked, shaking her head in confusion.
The whelp spun around, his extended finger sweeping across the tall racks of books. His finger made an inventory, the boy looking across each shelf.
“They’re all where they belong, Twilight! They are! I re-shelved all of the books! I put them back right where they are supposed to be! I sorted them all!” he said in a high whine. In a moment he jumped into the air, and with his arms outstretched before him, he went bolting into the kitchen. He nearly tripped over the bucket of soapy water. It sloshed around as he regained his footing and went speeding through the door.
“Spike,” Twilight called, a sudden wave of trepidation falling over her. Her ears went up as she spun around to face the kitchen. Each of the boy’s little sounds of worry and fear echoed off of every pot and pan.
He appeared in the doorway, his eyes once more going to hers. Twilight saw the confusion that was washing through him. As his hands wrapped around the doorframe, his claws marring the intricately carved surface, his voice leapt to her in a rush of worry and fear.
“The dishes are done! They’re done! I cleaned up breakfast! I cleaned it all up and put the garbage out, just like you said to! I did! You can check! Please, Twi, check it! I swear they’re done, I swear!”
“Spike, what… what’s going on?” she asked, rising up to her hooves. Her own voice was beginning to shake. Before she could approach him, the little dragon had sped across the living room, very narrowly avoiding the soap-filled bucket. To her surprise he dived into the wastepaper basket at the far side of the room.
“Spike!” she called. “Tell me what’s going–”
The dragon’s feet had been waving through the air, but as he fell out of the can he found his footing once more. He held up a piece of paper, his eyes racing to hers once more.
“I did everything on the list, Twilight! Look! Look, everything except the dusting! I was just about to do the dusting when you came out of the guest room! I’ll do it! Please, don’t be mad! I’ll do it, I promise! Please… I’m sorry!”
Twilight’s guts suddenly felt like they were filled with lead, and her hooves felt like they weighed thousands of pounds. Her head swung as he sped across the room once more, leaping across the hole in the floorboards before pulling at the contents of the laundry hamper.
Spike made little whimpers as he reached for his apron, the gift that Rarity had made for him, and he struggled to put it on as Twilight watched. Her heart sank as he got caught in the straps, trying to pull it over his shoulders and tie it as he tried to force the rubber gloves back onto his hands.
“I’m sorry!” he cried as tears began to pool at the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Twi! I’ll finish it right now! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Oh, Celestia… oh, Luna. He thinks I’m punishing him for something, she realized. Her ears fell down, and a haze of mist began to obscure her vision. He thinks that I’m disciplining him for not doing a chore, that I’m chastising him for not completing one of his jobs…
“N-no, Spike, no,” she said, trotting forward quickly. She pulled the dragon close to her once more.
“Please, Twi, please!” he cried, burying himself in her forelegs. “J-just tell me what I did wrong! Just tell me what I missed! I’ll do it! I’ll fix it! Just, please, please don’t say that again! Please!”
“Shhhh…” she whispered. “Spike, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not mad. You haven’t done anything wrong or bad. You’ve done all of your chores, like you always do. I’m not mad.”
She felt Spike give a little shake.
“Then… then why would you say something like that? I…”
The dragon choked a little, coughing a bit. His words hovered against her coat, in her forelegs, before he spilled them across her.
“I’ve only ever told two ponies, Twi. I’ve only ever told two ponies how I feel about Rarity… I-I trust you Twi. Why would you say something like that? Why?”
He shook again. The weight of his words sat around her heavily, but there was no turning back now. Now she had to make him admit to the new reality.
“Why would you hurt me like that? I trust you, Twi. Why would you say something like that?”
“Because it’s true, Spike,” Twilight said. “It’s true.”
She felt something sink out of him. The boy became a weight in her forelegs… a pile of clay, a bag of rocks.
“Spike,” she said, trying to whisper the words to him. “While Rarity and Sweetie Belle were staying here, I felt myself growing closer and closer to her every day. I found myself wanting to be near her, to share time with her. Rarity is the mare that I’ve been thinking about all of this week. I can’t get her out of my head. She’s the one I have feelings for. I would never say this to punish you, Spike. Those words mean too much to just throw around…”
Twilight turned her eyes down to Spike. She blanched a little when she saw the look in his eyes.
Betrayal.
“Spike,” she said, placing certainty in her words. “I love Rarity. I love her.”
Spike stared back at her like she’d just murdered a puppy.
“No,” he said.
“Spike,” she said, trying to draw him closer.
“N-no… no! I-I trusted you!” he cried, startling her. “No! Nooo!”
“Spike, please,” she said, trying to wrap her forelegs around him, “your little crush, it’s…”
“Don’t talk to me! Don’t… don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, let me go!” he cried, his voice breaking into a hiss.
The flats of his hands rammed themselves into her chest, pushing him out of her embrace, sending him sprawling across the floor.
Twilight stood there for a moment, breathless. She did not know if it had been the force of his hands driving against her chest that had dropped the air out of her, or if it had been the realization of what had just happened.
She looked down to Spike, saw the child spin about on the rug and look back at her with a glower. She stood still, her empty forelegs still standing open.
They had experienced difficulties before, she and Spike. But no matter how many shouting matches they had been in, or how many days of not talking to one another, there had always been one truth between them. When one had opened themselves up for an embrace, the other had always answered that plea for a hug. They had always had the security of their closeness. They’d always had each other to shelter in and against.
Now, in the space of a few heartbeats, that was gone.
For the first time in the long story of their lives together, Spike had rejected the comfort of her hug. For the first time since she had stared down into his crib in the nursery all of those years ago, he had rejected her touch.
The two stared at one another, a sea of emotion separating them, each realizing the broken bond that Twilight’s empty forelegs revealed.
As Spike looked back at her, his scowl gave way to something more raw and more pained. Tears appeared on his face, and at once a little cry left the whelp. He began to skitter away, losing his footing as he tried to get back to his feet.
“Spike!” she cried, “Wait! Wait, Spike!”
Twilight’s magic flashed through the room, transporting him back, bringing him close enough that she could try to speak to him once more.
“No! No, leave me alone!” he wailed, running off again. “Leave! Me! Alone!”
“Spike, please!” she called after him, wrapping him in her magic. “We have to talk about this. Please, being being so im–”
She stopped herself, using her magic to not only teleport him back to her but also to keep that word from escaping her lips.
It went on like that again and again. The dragon tried to race away as he appeared in a flash of her magic only to be drawn back once more, again and again. Each time he cried to be left alone… cried that he had trusted her.
Each time Twilight died a little on the inside. Each time she felt more and more tears sliding down her own face. Each time she looked down as Spike appeared before her in an eruption of her magic, his face looking more and more miserable and betrayed each time until she lost the will to do it anymore.
“Leave me alone! Leave me alooone!” he shrieked as he finally fell out of her spell. He was breathing heavily, and he tripped again, going to the floor hard. He began crawling, and then forced himself up onto two legs. He bounded across the floor of the living room, knocking over her bucket full of soapy water, sending a splash of suds washing across the floor.
He skidded along on the slippery surface, and the bar of soap itself went flying across the floor like a scared jackrabbit. The boy slipped across the water again, and then dove into the hallway closet.
The door slammed behind him loudly, causing the cuckoo clock to come crashing from the nearby wall. The mechanism shattered, and the little carved bird came tumbling out, evicted from its longtime home.
Twilight walked over to the closet slowly, looking at the remains of her clock. She had only just brought it downstairs. Well, she’d made Spike bring it downstairs, in all honesty. Now, her decision had sent something she valued flying into pieces.
Twice in one day.
“Spike, please,” she whispered into the crack between the door and the frame. “Please, we need to talk about this.”
There was no reply.
Her body suddenly felt very heavy. Twilight slowly sank down to her knees, and then she simply lay on the cold floor, lying there amid the remains of her cuckoo clock and her most cherished relationship.
Sounds began to rise from behind the closet door. Great, vast sobs began to filter out into the hallway, only barely muffled by the winter coats, boots, umbrellas, and old magazines within.
Tears ran down her face as lay there, just before the door, surrounded by the soapy water.
As his bawls fell out from behind the closet door, she wondered how it had gone from happy hugs and affirmations to this, to him shoving her and crawling away, desperately trying to escape her presence like she was…
…like she was hurting him.
Twilight’s eyes swam with tears. For the second time in as many weeks, she had hurt her little dragon. She had hoped so very hard that this would go well, and each of the little hugs and nuzzles that had come before now seemed squandered.
Her forelegs felt empty, and there was a pain in her chest that his palms had not caused.
For the second time since the unicorn had come to their home, Twilight had hurt the baby dragon that loved her. She had hurt him…
…because of Rarity.
Twilight let her face sink down across the floorboards, and her ears filled the muffled sobbing from beyond the door.
It had been going so well…
…and it wasn’t over yet.
Even with him wailing in the closet, it wasn’t over. She still needed him to know about the first time she had hurt him. She still needed to let him know the truth.
It had been going so well…
Chapter 3: Her Imperfect Motives
Chapter 3: Her Imperfect Motives
If Twilight had the ability to laugh at the moment, she would have had a good chuckle.
An hour ago, her little dragon had assured her that, despite her realization that she was a mare who had feelings for another mare, she was still loved. He still loved her… supported her. He had once again been her little rock, her worry stone that she had rubbed for comfort. He had stood by her.
Once again, she had used Spike.
Just about an hour ago, she had told him that the mare who had made her realize that hidden part of herself was the very same one whom he had been crushing on hard since the day they’d arrived in Ponyville.
She took a heavy breath.
It had been going so well…
Twilight stared across the soap-strewn floor. A sardonic statement that was floating around in her mind, trying to find some way to make her grin or chuckle, or do anything, really.
Spike had spent the last hour sobbing. Well, he had spent the first fifteen minutes sobbing. Wailing, actually, now that her mind had calmed enough to let her begin categorizing things properly. The next fifteen had been just the regular sort of crying that one associates with children who have had their hearts broken.
The last half-hour had simply been interspersed moments of sniffling, if her ears had heard correctly.
The sarcastic statement flipped through her conscious mind once again, begging to be recognized. Twilight slowly lifted her head off the floor, and her mane fell out behind her in long tangles. She let her eyes search her immediate surroundings. She blinked some of the tears from her eyes as she surveyed the lonely part of the floor with which she had become so intimately acquainted over the last hour.
To her right sat the ruined remains of her cuckoo clock, the little bird still staring at the ceiling forlornly, lamenting the loss of its perch and longtime living accomodations. The floor shone with all of the soapy water that had gone spilling from the bucket, the bar of soap itself slowly sliding along on imperceptible currents, drifting along aimlessly like a cruise ship whose captain had only just looked up from his Sudoku to realize he was navigating the wrong ocean.
Twilight ran her hoof across her face, and then let let her eyes fall on the door to Spike’s refuge. As she did, the sardonic statement flew through her mind once more, and finally her conscious mind gave up and let her ponder it, lest the thought become depressed.
Today, for the first time, I admitted to somepony, to someone, that I’m a mare who has feelings for another mare, she thought, her face remaining impassive as she studied the door. But I’m lying here… hoping that it’s Spike who comes out of the closet.
The statement took a bow and departed her thoughts. She let it pass quietly, and then moved closer to the closet door.
“Spike?” she whispered.
Something shifted on the other side of the door, and there was a bump followed by a rubbery squeak. In her mind’s eye, Twilight pictured him placing one of her winter boots over his head, using it to shield himself from the sound of her voice and whatever words she was about to say.
Despite the inherent ridiculousness of such an image, Twilight did not laugh.
“Spike,” she said, leaning her head against the doorframe. “I know that you are upset. I know that… that you must feel like I’ve deceived you, betrayed you. Of course I know how you feel about Rarity. It means the world to me that you trusted me with that secret. You know that I would never use my promise against you. That would mean the end of our friendship and I–”
She stopped herself, not risking dragging Pinkie into the situation. Things were already complicated enough as they stood.
“You still there?” Spike asked, his voice detached and cold.
“Y-yes,” she answered. “Yes, I was just thinking about Pinkie.”
“Humph!” he muttered, the door nearly drowning his words. “Why? What brought her into this? Did she suddenly develop feelings for my doggie bed or something? Is she was eloping with my blankie?”
Twilight lifted her hoof, afraid that it would get wet with the sarcasm that was dripping off of him and flooding out from beneath the door.
“No, Spike,” she said. “Please, you’re being im–”
She caught her tongue. Careful! she thought, scolding herself.
“–possible. We… we have to talk about this,” she said. “Please, Spike, I know that this must be a surprise to you, but… but you have to know that. I, that I think Rarity is beautiful.”
“No, really?!” he said, a new trickle of sardonicism flowing from under the door. “I never noticed! Do you think she’d look good on a T-shirt?!”
She put her hoof across her face. She didn’t like being on the receiving end of the snarky part of him, of his seemingly endless supply of cutting remarks that he had learned over his short life.
“Spike,” Twilight said, trying to ignore his tone. “It makes me happy to be near her. When… when we nuzzled, it was the first time that it felt real to me, like it was something that could last forever…”
“Oh, is that a fact, Twi? That’s great, I’ll sign you up for the ‘I Like Getting Nuzzled by Rarity’ newsletter!” he cried, his voice so loud that she could hear the loose coat hangers chiming in the closet. “I’m the editor. I print it off every Tuesday! You’re welcome to submit articles!”
The gentle trickle of sarcasm became a great rushing river, a metaphorical Maresissippi flowing from beneath the closet door. She imagined that she saw the great White Soap Bar Liner R.M.S. Titanic Friendship Failure sailing merrily across the living room floor in the mixture of his snarky words and the soapy water, unknowingly approaching the iceberg of her strained relationship with the baby dragon.
It was an iceberg that looked suspiciously like the top of the basement stairs. That wasn’t a good place for a bar of soap at all, metaphorically or physically.
Her magic reached out to move it someplace safer when a single pained sob once more came from behind the closet door. Her heart went heavy again, and she leaned closer to the space between the door and the frame again, once more whispering to the child within.
“I-I tried to think of the best way to break it to you, Spike,” she said, trying to find the happy medium between a whisper and being loud enough to be heard through the door. “That’s why I made it a game…”
“Oh? So, I won? Best prize ever!” quipped the muffled voice behind the door.
Twilight pressed her hoof to her forehead, and then continued.
“Spike,” she whispered, hoping that the dragon on the other side of the door heard her words. “Spike, we have to talk about this. We need to come to an understanding or… or I’m going to keep hurting you.”
The door went remarkably silent.
“Spike,” she said, quieting her voice further still, forcing him to listen, “I have something that I need to tell you. The reason why I needed to tell you this is because I did something to you. I did something that I’m not proud of. I need to admit it to you, and we… we need to move on from here. We need to deal with this. You can’t… we can’t hide from this.”
The door maintained its silence. At least he wasn’t sobbing anymore.
“When Rarity and Sweetie Belle were here, you were very happy. I-I think that you did very well. You were a gentledrake to them the whole time, and I’m very proud of you. B-but, Spike, I… when I began to feel this way about Rarity, when I began to fall in love with her…”
There was the sound of something heavy being thrown against the inside of the closet. She ignored it and pushed on.
“When these feelings for her began, I was confused. I felt myself become more and more attracted to her. I did everything I could to make sure that you wouldn’t notice, even though I slipped up from time to time. I was afraid that you would notice, because something… because I was afraid that something like this would happen!”
She waited for a snarky comment to lift from behind the closet door. She was a little more than surprised when none came. She took a deep breath, and then continued her explanation.
“I wish… I wish I could say that I was worried about you finding out, but the truth, Spike, is that I was feeling something very different about you at the time. I was feeling something terrible and awful. I felt something that I’m not proud of…”
There was a little sound of something shifting against the door. In her mind she imagined Spike turning to the side, pressing his ear up to it to hear her better. She desperately hoped that the part of the dragon that had always shown concern for her, be it from making her breakfast or sending desperate pleas for help off to Princess Celestia when she was going through fits of compulsive insanity, was still at work in him… that she had not broken his trust so completely.
Because, she knew, it was about to be tested.
“Spike?” she asked gently, resting her forehead against the closet door. “Do you remember the picnic, the one that Rarity and I went on? Well…”
---------------------------------------------
“Awww, shucks!”
“Sweetie Belle! Such language!” Rarity said, more than a little disappointment in her voice. “You knew that today was the day that the four of us were planning on having a picnic at the millpond! I’m surprised that you didn’t keep better track of which day your little dance would fall on!”
“On the other hoof, Rarity,” Twilight said, gathering a few more items to take along on their outing, “this could be a great opportunity for Sweetie Belle to use one of her natural talents in the pursuit of her cutie mark while under adult supervision and in a controlled environment and away from any flammable materials or explosives.”
Rarity looked back at Twilight, and after a moment she took the meaning of Twilight’s implications.
“Ohhhhh! Oh, yes! Indeed… Sweetie, my darling little sister, do forgive me! I hadn’t realized what a great opportunity this must be for you,” Rarity said, running her hoof up and down the back of the upset little filly. “Of course you must take this chance to shine! You must! You must!”
The face of the filly brightened, and she turned to lay her head against her sister as the two shared a little nuzzle. As Sweetie sat there, the white of her coat resting against that of her sister, almost disappearing into the similar shade, Rarity lifted her head back towards Twilight.
The unicorn gave the alicorn a little wink, showing that she understood Twilight’s meaning. A little sheltered giggle passed between them.
In Twilight’s head, this little interaction became something more. It became proof that she and Rarity could interact on so many levels. It showed her that they understood each other in a way that her other friends, no matter how dear to her, simply did not. Not to mention, of course, the butterflies that went through her when Rarity winked at her. Not to mention the way that Rarity’s giggle chimed around in Twilight’s perceptions, making her heart flutter. And, of course, not to mention the way that these new feelings made her blush slightly… enough that she felt the need to turn her head and hide the evidence from her friend.
“I still wish I could go on the picnic with all of you,” Sweetie Belle said with a sigh.
“Well, Sweetie,” Twilight said, lowering her head to the filly, “there’s still a lot of summer left, after all. I’m sure that we can find some more opportunities for picnics in the future.”
“Really?” the filly said happily, her trademark squeak accenting the word.
"Well of course, dearest!” Rarity added. “I hardly think that this should be the last time the four of us go on an outing!”
The four of us…
Twilight’s nose wrinkled a little, and a frown flashed across her face before she could quell its appearance.
She looked back to where Rarity sat with Sweetie Belle. The unicorn had produced her brushes once more and was in the middle of tidying her sister up before sending her off to the dance. Twilight watched the two, listening to Rarity’s voice, watching the way that the unicorn gently ran her combs and brushes across the little filly’s mane, the way the aura of her magic tenderly traced her sister’s coat.
Twilight stood there watching, envying. She let her mind replace Sweetie’s form for her own. She listened to Rarity’s words, obviously meant for Sweetie, encouraging the filly to do her best, and convinced herself that they were meant for her.
Twilight let her eyes close, and immediately she felt herself washed in the vision that her imagination had been presenting her.
Rarity stood over her, running her brushes through her mane, across her tail, along her coat. They felt so good… they felt good because they were laced with Rarity’s magic, the very aura of the unicorn tracking along her body, finding the little places that lifted tiny ticklish gasps from her.
Her ears no longer registered Sweetie’s name. Instead, whenever a little giggle lifted from the filly, in her mind, it became her giggle, reacting to Rarity’s touch. Whenever Rarity said her sister’s name, in Twilight’s mind it became her own name, and the soft sound of it made her lift her nose, drawing in more of Rarity’s perfumes as she thought of the combs and brushes making their way across her coat.
She imagined the brushes leaving caring, affectionate strokes across her, ones that made her stretch her legs out, made her lift her face as the feel of Rarity’s magic trailed down her neck.
Twilight imagined herself slowly going to the floor, Rarity gently dragging the combs across her shoulder blades before finally rolling over onto her back. Twilight imagined rolling her head across the pillows as Rarity’s weight shifted on the mattress. Rarity spoke her name gently, whispering “Twilight” as the brushes made small, perfect, tiny circles across her chest, her barrel, her stomach, her…
“Twilight?” called a small voice, speaking to her from the other side of the daydream. The vivid pictures that her imagination had been draping across her raced away, and as Twilight slipped back into herself, she found Sweetie Belle looking up to her innocently.
“Y-yes, Sweetie?” Twilight asked, trying to hide her blush.
“Do you promise that we can go on a picnic again sometime this summer? I really, really wanted to go,” Sweetie said, her voice breaking a little.
“Of course. I promise. I promise that we’ll go again sometime very soon, before the boutique opens. Then it will be just the four of us,” she said, leaning her head down low enough that she had to look up to Sweetie to make the promise, the alicorn princess supplicating herself before the filly.
The four of us…
Twilight felt herself frown once more. She hid it as quickly as possible.
“Alright, dearest, you must get ready!” Rarity sang, her voice filling the room. “You’ll have to be off soon.”
“Wait a second, Sweetie is leaving?” called another voice, this one coming from the kitchen. “Humph! It would have been nice of somebody to, you know, tell me that before I made all of these sandwiches… and potato salad… and macaroni salad!”
“I’m sorry, Spike,” Sweetie said, rolling out of Rarity’s forelegs. “There’s this dance for all of the kids at school… a Summer Get Together Dance. I forgot all about it.”
“Well, okay, I guess,” he said, appearing a bit deflated. In a moment his expression returned to normal, and he looked back to the filly. “You wanna take some to the dance? You know, to share and stuff?”
“Why, Spike!” Rarity called, trotting across the room to pat him on the head. “That is simply a marvelous idea. How communal of you. Isn’t he just the most thoughtful little drake, Twilight? Isn’t he just something special?”
Twilight watched as Rarity drew her hoof across his frills, complimenting the whelp.
Something she did not like went through Twilight’s heart as she watched the little hearts appear over Spike’s head, as she saw the goofy, love-struck expression fall over the boy.
“Yes," Twilight answered. "He is."
“Bye, Sweetie,” Spike said, placing the containers in her saddlebag. “Have fun, okay?”
“Thanks, Spike!” she sang, her trademark squeak filling out his name.
The filly ran to her sister, running her face across the older mare in a series of warm nuzzles. Twilight had begun to picture herself in Sweetie’s position once again when the filly came running to her.
It was a quick hug, but it was genuine. “You promise, right Twilight?” Sweetie whispered.
“Of course,” Twilight said, returning the hug. “You have fun at the dance, okay?”
The filly grinned a broad grin and then leapt out the door. She quickly trotted down the street to where the school stood as though awkwardly awaking from summer vacation. Around it the happy sounds of fillies and colts enjoying lemonade, dancing, and ice cream cascaded through the summer sun.
Good, Twilight thought, that’s one out of the way.
Twilight shuddered to a stop, her rear legs literally sliding across the floor at where her thoughts had gone. She was instantly ashamed that she would feel such things, and her mouth hung open.
Still, it didn’t stop her from pressing on with her plan.
Yes, a plan had developed in her head, a way to finally spend some time alone with Rarity. The second that Sweetie had suddenly remembered the dance, a window of opportunity had flown open in front of Twilight.
Opportunity had knocked, and a green-eyed monster had answered.
Twilight turned to watch Spike bringing items for the picnic out of the kitchen and into the living room, the happy smile across his face showing that he too was looking forward to going on this picnic, that he too was looking forward to spending time with Rarity.
She watched as his hands folded together, and how he lifted them to rest his head upon as Rarity asked him trivial little things like: “What types of sandwiches have you prepared for us, Spike?” and “Have you set aside my favorite picnic china, Spikey-Wikey?”
Twilight listened as he breathed responses, whispering them with terms like: “milady” and “Yes… Rarity”, the whelp drawing out her name out in a fog of contemplation and adoration.
Twilight’s teeth ground together.
Spike’s crush on Rarity. In light of her new feelings for her unicorn friend, it had become problematic.
Meaning, of course, that she’d grown envious of Spike’s feelings for the beautiful mare. Love makes ponies do crazy things, and for a princess who had once gone running around Ponyville in a fit of adorable insanity when she had been facing a late assignment, something like love can make one do and feel very, very crazy things indeed.
Things like feel jealousy for a child who was drifting on an innocent crush. Things like become resentful at the little hearts that spilled out of him whenever he spoke with Rarity. These observations, once seen as cute and endearing had, in the light of her new feelings, begun to draw emotions from deep inside Twilight that she did not like but which she did not silence.
When the month had begun, she had responded to his crush the way she usually had. She had rolled her eyes and giggled. Now she was staring daggers at him and sending him to bed early. She had begun making excuses for him to leave the room when she and Rarity could be together. She had begun distracting him when he had stared at Rarity more than he should… more than she thought he should at any rate.
Twilight shook herself out of her thoughts. Her mouth fell open once again. She was utterly startled by where her thoughts had once again taken her. Was she really envying her little assistant, the boy who had been by her side all of this time? Was she really begrudging him a childhood crush, one that she had known about all of this time?
Twilight shook herself. Twilight, what are you doing? she said. Spike thinks the world of you, and this… this is how you’re thinking of him? As competition? Twilight! No! Bad Twilight Sparkle! He’s trusted you, and now you’re going to…
Denunciations of her plan, of the way she’d been enviously eyeing Spike’s adoration for Rarity, of the way she’d become more and more resentful of his puppy love as he helped her with her projects here in the refuge of the library.
What’s wrong with me? said the better angel of her nature. Love makes us do strange things… but don’t I love Spike, too? Hasn’t he always been there for me?
Still, it didn’t stop her from pressing on with her plan.
She looked up to see Spike standing near Rarity, the implements of their picnic standing around him, all seeming to be ready for their outing.
As she watched, Rarity ran her hoof through Spike’s frills, complimenting him on his choice of color-coordinated napkins or some such frivolity. She heard his happy sigh lift from across the room, and once more a lovestruck expression went across his features.
A single sliver of magic escaped her, making something erupt in an unseen spark of magic behind Rarity and Spike.
“Hey, Twi? Are ya ready for the picnic? Are we ready to head to the millpond?” Spike asked his oldest, and best, friend.
“I am, Spike,” she said sweetly. “The question is, are you? Did you finish all of your chores?”
“Yup!” the dragon said, a look of self-congratulatory confidence sitting on his features. “I got ‘em all done nice and early so that I could get everything ready for the picnic!”
“Are you sure?” she asked, painting uncertainty into her voice. “Did you mop the bathroom?”
“Yup!” he answered.
“Did you stock the writing desk?” she asked, keeping her tone even, awaiting her chance.
“Paper, ink, quills, and wax seals!” he said, counting each one on each of his claws.
“Very good, Spike,” she said. “And how about the banisters? Did they get polished?”
“Yep, they… wait, what?” the dragon said, going from confident to shocked in the space of moments.
“The banisters?” she said. “They were on the list. The lanterns still look low on fuel, too. Did you fill them? They were on the back of the list as well.”
“The… the back?” he said, his voice going quieter. “I-I checked...there wasn’t anything on the back. I checked…”
“I’m sure that if you checked right now, Spike, you’d see that there were chores to do on the back, too,” Twilight said, forcing herself to look stern, as though she were rightfully indignant at his laziness.
She watched as Spike gave a little shake, and then leapt towards the wastebasket.
“No… no, I checked. I’m sure I did. I’m like super-sure that I did,” he said pulling out wads of paper, desperately searching for the list he had disposed of earlier that morning. In a moment he found it, wadded up as it was, and lifted it to his eyes.
Twilight watched as he slowly flipped it over, as though fearing what he would find on the other side. His eyes fell across a group of chores that he had been absolutely, utterly, completely sure had not been there that morning. She watched as he winced, and then his eyes went wide.
He had been sure that there hadn’t been any chores listed for him on the back. He had been absolutely sure…
…and he had been right.
Until Twilight’s magic had found the note buried in the garbage can, there had been nothing on the back. He had completed his tasks. Yes, he had grumbled about them, as he was generally inclined to do, but he had dutifully accomplished them as he always had.
Her magic had made a new list appear there, the words gathering on the crumpled paper as it sat in the wastepaper basket. Now, Spike ran his eyes over the list, not believing what he saw there.
He had been so sure.
“Twilight,” he said, looking back at her, waving his arms through the air. “I-I… whoa, I don’t know what happened! I had been so super-positive sure!” he said, some panic in his voice.
“Is that the truth, Spike?” she said, raising her eyebrow and cocking her head, playing the part of a pony regarding him dubiously. “Or is it possible that some little dragon decided that he wanted to cut corners so that he could get ready for a picnic instead? Some dragon, say, who has told me fibs before?”
Spike’s expression went ashen.
“N-no, Twi, no! I promise! I promise that I thought that I had done all of my chores! I was sure of it!” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “I swear! Cross my hearts and hope to die, stick a–”
Twilight’s hoof went over his mouth. No need to drag Pinkie into this.
“Very well, Spike, I believe you. If you say that you didn’t see them on there, then I believe you,” she said, letting her expression softened. She gazed down at Spike, watching as signs of relief came over him as well.
“But,” she said, maintaining her even tone, “these chores are your responsibility, and whether you saw them or not, they are yours to do. I think that, instead of coming on the picnic, you should stay here and finish them.”
The room was silent, apart from the distant cuckoo clock, the one she had brought downstairs to entertain Sweetie Belle. After a moment, a sort of whine rose around them, and a little dragon begged his case.
“No, Twi, please! I-I can do them when we get back, can’t I? Please? It was a mistake, and I… I made the lunch for all of us. Can’t I come, please?” he said, folding his hands in front of him.
“Spike,” she said, putting her stern face on once more, “I’m sure you did a wonderful job making the food for the picnic, like you always do, but these are your responsibilities, and if I were to let you off the hook…”
Spike’s face turned to Rarity, and he looked at her with loss, seeing his chance to spend some time with his ladylove falling away.
“Please, Twilight, please!” he said, falling to his knees in front of her. “I’ll do double my chores tomorrow! I’ll… I’ll do double chores for the rest of the week! Please, please, please just let me come on the picnic! I’ve been looking forward to it since forever!”
“Spike,” she said, curtly. “I have to stand firm on this. You made the mistake, you have to take responsibility for it.”
What did you just do?! her conscience screamed. What did You. Just. Do?!
Twilight watched as Spike looked at Rarity once more, and then the whelp fell in front of her, grabbing her legs and pleading with her.
“Please, Twilight! Please! Haven’t I been good all this week? Haven’t I been good all this month… ever since Rarity and Sweetie came? I’ve tried to be extra-helpful for them, too! I really have! Please, Twi, please let me come…”
Another voice added itself to the scene, floating over the both of them.
“Twilight, darling, I must admit… isn’t it a little harsh to keep poor Spikey-Wikey away from the picnic?” Rarity said, approaching the two. “I mean, he did prepare–”
Twilight turned her eyes towards Rarity. There was no turning back now. He is my ward to discipline as I see fit, her eyes said. Please do not contradict me in front of him.
“Oh,” Rarity said, understanding the glare. “I see.”
Twilight turned her face back down to Spike, looking at him as he clung to her forelegs, his eyes watering as he stared back up to her in petition.
She felt something slide around inside her uncomfortably, gnawing on her guts. I’m really doing this. I’m doing this to Spike. I’m lying to him. I’m hurting him just so I can…
That better angel of Twilight’s nature, the one who had been protesting this whole horrible act, found itself thrown to the ground, trampled beneath the emotions that were flooding through the alicorn.
“Spike,” she said, keeping any emotions from entering her voice. “I’m very surprised at you. You know better than to act this way. You aren’t acting like my Number One Assistant right now. You are acting like a little baby dragon…
…you’re acting immature.”
The title fell through Spike, making him recoil. She had called him that in front of Rarity. She had said that in front of the pony who he desperately wanted to see him as mature – as capable.
Spike curled into a little ball, the crumpled chore list in his hands.
“I’m sorry, Spike,” Twilight lied. She pressed her nose down on top of his head in a quick, sterile, emotionless nuzzle… one devoid of any genuine feelings. “Be a good baby dragon and finish your chores. We won’t be long.”
Her magic gathered up the components of the picnic. She turned towards the door, hiding it from the other two occupants of the library.
What did you just do? her crumpled angel asked. Why? Why? He loves you...
“I was so sure,” Spike whimpered. “I was so sure.”
“Goodbye, Spikey-Wikey,” Rarity breathed. “Do your best, and we shall see you soon.”
Spike could not reply. He could not bring himself to look at the beautiful mare… could not stomach her seeing an immature creature sitting there…
“I don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice breaking across the words. “I was so sure. I-I was so sure…”
Rarity joined Twilight at the door, and together the two mares passed outside.
“He’ll be alright,” Twilight said, nodding to Rarity. “He likes doing his chores, and it’s an important lesson for him to learn. We'll have him with us on our next picnic. There's a lot of summer left.”
“I… I suppose you know best,” Rarity said, returning the nod.
Twilight hefted the picnic supplies, and then they began making their way through the streets of Ponyville.
Chapter 4: Those Who Love Us
Chapter 4: Those Who Love Us
Rarity paused outside Carousel Boutique, staring at the boarded-up windows.
Twilight listened as the fashionista pondered the warped paint and the blackened eaves and shutters. The unicorn drew a deep sigh, and Twilight watched as she kicked through the pile of refuse sitting in the street… a pile that had once been her inspiration room.
Twilight came closer, and with the slightest of hesitation she lifted her muzzle to Rarity.
The unicorn answered the offer of comfort from her friend, letting her face run alongside Twilight’s. As far as she knew, it was simply a friend lending her strength.
For Twilight, though, it was an electric sensation. Her body absorbed the feel of Rarity’s face as it lingered across hers, and Rarity’s scent, both the addictive potion of her perfume and the natural draw of her own flesh and coat, lingered in Twilight’s perception.
This is what I wanted, she thought. I just wanted a chance to be alone with her, to be with her. Time in her company… time to, explore. Time, maybe, to tell…
Twilight’s line of thought fell away as Rarity lifted out of the nuzzle far too quickly for Twilight’s wants and wishes, and the two left the shell of the boutique behind.
The spot beside the millpond was a favored place, and it was startling in its beauty. Many a great love story had begun by the little path next to the bridge that led to Ledger’s Mill.
It was a wonderful spot, and the summer song of birds and insects hung over the still waters. The mill wheel went around lazily in a cadence that played out against the panorama of the summer foliage.
The picnic passed pleasantly. They spoke about small things, and they laughed in turn at little jokes and observations. Yet, it wasn’t what Twilight had hoped it would be.
If Twilight had hoped that this place, this beautiful setting, would have been enough to bring about some change, to awaken some strength in her to broach the topic of beginning a new phase of their relationship, then she had been sorely disappointed.
Silence fell across them too often. At certain times Twilight would look up to find Rarity simply looking across the pond, as though something were on her mind. Each time the unicorn would look back, and finding Twilight’s eyes upon her she would smile a small smile and then begin a few lines of conversation once more.
Far too quickly, it ended.
The two made their way back through the streets of Ponyville, back towards the library. Twilight cursed herself quietly over and over for not, at least, trying anything to gauge Rarity’s interest in her, to see if there could be anything there that could hint at them ever being anything more than just friends…
…if Rarity had even considered being in a relationship with a mare, which was another thing that Twilight was screaming at herself for being too much of a wuss to try to discover.
Twilight was dragged out of this contemplation by exactly what she had been wanting all along… namely, Rarity’s touch.
“Twilight?” Rarity said, drawing her hoof up and down Twilight’s foreleg. “May we speak for a moment?”
Twilight drew a quick breath. “S-Sure? What do you want to talk about, Rarity?”
The unicorn guided Twilight with a gentle touch, leading her back so that the two sat in the short, sweet-smelling grass near the fountain across the bridge from the village square.
They sat there like that for a moment, admiring the statue and listening to the water that burbled down from the ornamental horn affixed to the lips of the pony in the fountain.
Twilight lingered in Rarity’s presence, her newfound feelings for the unicorn playing around the pair as they sat there. She had begun to reflect on these feelings when Rarity turned to her, a bright smile across her face.
“My dear Twilight,” Rarity began, running her hoof along Twilight’s foreleg again, causing the warm, happy feelings to race through the alicorn once more. “I can’t thank you enough for these last few weeks. As always you have been a dear friend, and I have to admit that, despite my initial reservations that, well… I have enjoyed sharing your home with you. You have been wonderful to Sweetie and I, and I feel that I landed on my hooves. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Twilight began, a happy smile coasting across her face. “It is great having you, and I couldn’t let you…”
Twilight was pulled out of her words, a wonderful feeling flying through her. Rarity’s forelegs sat across her own, and the gentle feeling of Rarity’s body leaning against hers sent Twilight’s breath falling out of her.
“Twilight,” Rarity said, laying her head on the unicorn's shoulder, “you are a dear friend. Yes, you are very dear to me, and I am so very, very proud to call you my friend, my liege, and my sovereign.”
Twilight felt her heart beating in her chest, felt it thudding harder still as the unicorn turned. She sat in front of her now, her head still across Twilight’s shoulder, but now her chest and barrel pressed up against that of the alicorn as well.
“I-I…” Twilight stammered, fighting for words.
Rarity interrupted her, running her face across the pony in slow strokes before letting her head lay across the shoulder of the alicorn once again.
“Twilight, there is something that I feel the need to say, something that I hope that you can accept, and that I hope will not change the way that you view me,” Rarity said, letting the warmth of her breath fall down Twilight’s back, making the alicorn’s wings flutter slightly and her knees shake.
“It is something that I’ve been wanting to tell you all the time that we’ve been on this entire lovely picnic, something that I’ve been trying to work up the courage to say to you since we sat down together at the millpond,” Rarity whispered.
Twilight’s heart thudded in her chest, and her vision began to recede. Rarity’s touch, her words… could this be…
“Twilight, forgive me, but I must say this,” Rarity said, lifting her head from Twilight’s body, sitting in front of the princess once more. “I simply can not let it hover around us any longer.”
There was a chiming in Twilight’s ears, and it competed with the thudding in her chest. She fought to control herself, fought to keep her emotions from overwhelming her.
She… she can’t possibly be about to… to say that she has feelings…
Twilight swam through Rarity’s eyes, searching for any indication. Rarity simply stared back at her with a small smile, some powerful emotion sitting in her features.
“Twilight?” Rarity said, her voice still hanging in a whisper.
“Yes?” Twilight answered, trying to wrangle the word, fighting not to let it escape her too quickly or enthusiastically.
Rarity leaned forward, her muzzle once more coming that close to Twilight’s.
Twilight’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest as Rarity began to speak.
“Twilight,” Rarity breathed. “Twilight… you have every right to raise Spike as you see fit, but it did seem more than a little cruel to make him stay at home today.”
Twilight blinked, and then her hopes, like a piano thrown out of a window during a poorly executed vaudeville routine, went crashing to the ground. As the calamity rang through her mind, Twilight felt herself being pulled, screaming, back into reality.
“It isn’t my place to tell you how to discipline him, Twilight,” Rarity continued, obviously unaware of the devastation she had just wrought inside the princess. “You’ve obviously done well by him so far. But, Twilight, please… don’t be so stern with him. All that I can say is that I would not have done the same to Sweetie. Sometimes a mistake is simply a mistake. He is a wonderful little gentledrake, and he loves you very much.”
The unicorn stood there, looking into Twilight’s face. After a moment a wordless alicorn stood as well, her hopes for the afternoon firmly crushed.
“I see,” Twilight mouthed. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
Rarity thought that she had upset Twilight, that she had made her ponder her entire parenting technique. As the two went through the streets, Twilight kept looking into the distance, or seemed to be pondering deep thoughts.
She was partially right. Twilight was lost deep in thought.
“Twilight, darling?” sang a sweet voice, one that drew Twilight out of her disciplinary train of thought.
Rarity looked at her with doubt in her eyes. “Twilight?” she asked again. “I must ask… you aren’t upset at me, are you?”
“N-no! No… no,” Twilight said, recovering. “I’m not upset! Why would I be upset?”
I’m not upset at you.
“Oh, well, I’m certainly glad to hear that,” Rarity said, an obvious sigh of relief falling out of her. “You’ve gone so quiet suddenly, I was afraid that you might be upset with me over my little advice.”
“No, that’s not case,” Twilight answered. “I’m glad that you feel comfortable telling me about things like that. I was just thinking of something I need to do when I get home…”
The two walked on, and small conversations arose from them once more. As they walked, Twilight felt herself matching Rarity’s movements, and she felt herself basking in the glow of her friend, catching hints of it around her. She looked up, meeting Rarity’s eyes as the fashionable pony talked about things Twilight had little knowledge of, lost as she was in the world of her friend, of this pony she had feelings for.
“Twilight, I was wondering something else,” Rarity said, the cheerful chirp not leaving her voice.
“Oh, what’s that, Rarity?” Twilight answered, not lifting her eyes from those of the unicorn.
“Well,” Rarity said, blushing a bit. “Well, we have been through–”
That was when they ran into the stallion.
“Oh! Oh my, Princess Twilight! Do forgive me!” he called, helping her to her hooves and trying to bow at the same time. “And you must be Miss Rarity! Oh, do please forgive me, both of you! Majesty, do forgive me!”
“Oh, hey, it’s not a big deal…” Twilight said, stumbling around slightly. “I’m pretty sure we walked right into you!”
“We must certainly apologize to you, sir,” Rarity said. “Oh, Twilight, we’re home…”
Twilight recovered, looked at the stallion, and then up to the branches of her home. “Oh, well… look at that!’ she said. “And what can I do for you, sir?”
“Do forgive me, Majesty,” he said, bowing to the Princess of Magic once again.
Twilight blushed a little. She didn’t like being bowed to. I just didn’t feel… right.
“I am here for Miss Rarity, you see,” he continued. “I’m an insurance adjuster, and we need to go through the boutique one last time before we begin the reconstruction work. May I borrow her?”
“Well, sure,” Twilight said. “But, may I ask, why didn’t you wait inside? It may be my home, but Golden Oaks Library is still… well, a public library.”
“Oh, well,” the nervous stallion said, adjusting his saddlebag, “I would have, but it is locked, you see… Majesty.”
“It is, is it?” Twilight said, a scowl going across her face.
“Shall we off?” Rarity said, motioning to the insurance adjuster. “I shall return as soon as practicable, Twilight.”
“Sure,” Twilight said, scowling at the door. “Sure.”
Her magic came alight, and she leveled it at the door, opening it with her magic key. Locking the door wouldn’t keep her out, Spike knew that, but it had meant closing the library.
She could only wonder why.
She trotted inside, letting the picnic basket fall to the ground.
She opened her mouth to shout “Spike!” when something caught her eye. She went around in a circle for an instant, looking the public part of the library over. Her eyes looked it up and down.
Each of the chores that she had left him were done.
The banisters shone, the lamps were filled... every one of the jobs that her magic had slipped onto the crumpled piece of paper had been seen to and completed. The library section shone. He’d not only fulfilled her new requirements of him, but had superseded them.
“Hmm,” she said to herself, not bothering to hide her words as she trotted around the library in a circle. “Well, at least he isn’t sulking.
She headed towards the door that separated the little living space they shared from the rest of the library, the very same one Spike had come through wearing a lampshade on their first night in Ponyville. She was just about to walk through it when she noticed something affixed to the door.
It was a note, one held there with sticky tack, not a pin. He knew she hated putting pins into the fine woodwork of the library.
She came to a stop, throwing her eyes across it just in case it was another “I’m Running Away” letter.
She caught the words, and then she went still and quiet. She stood there staring at it, re-reading it over and over.
Each time that she read it, something burned behind her eyes. Each time she read it, she felt lesser and lesser. Each time she read it, the paranoia and compulsion that had ruled her that day became less and less. Any covetousness that she may have felt against her little dragon became a puddle that sat around her hooves accusingly.
She made herself read the note again, punishing herself:
Dear Twilight,
I am so, so, so, so sorry that I did not do the chores this morning. I know that you are really disappointed in me. I am very afraid that you might not believe me. I promise you that I really, really, really did think that I had done all of the chores. I hope that you do believe me, because I don’t want to think about what it would be like to lose your trust.
Twilight’s conscious mind stared back at her, gauging her coldly. Spike was scared. She had scared him… she had scared him for her own purposes.
I hope that the picnic was fun. I wish that I could have gone with Rarity and you because you are the two most important ponies to me. You most of all. All that I could think about while you were gone was how I must have made you lose some faith in me.
I am sorry that the library is closed, but the more I thought about, about how I made you sad and how you were disappointed in me, it made my tummy hurt. It made my tummy hurt really, really bad, so I am going upstairs to lie down. I don’t want ponies walking around down here if I can’t help them. I didn’t want to disappoint you again.
Twilight’s heart sank. Acid bubbled up into her throat. Spike was in pain. She had caused him this pain… she had caused him this pain for her own selfish desires.
The note concluded, and she forced herself to go through the lines once again, punishing herself for her own actions.
If you put the picnic stuff in the sink, I promise to do them when I wake up. I hope you had fun. I hope that the food I made was good enough.
Twilight, I hope that you can forgive me for this morning. I did not mean to miss out on those chores. I know that you want me to be responsible. I know that you want me to do my best. I am sorry that I acted like a little baby dragon. I am sorry that I acted immature.
I really, really, really hope that I can win your trust back. I hope that I can get you to be proud of me again. I hope that I can make you happy again. You being proud of me is the most important thing in the world.
I really, really, really hope that I can be your best assistant again. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, especially if you could be proud of me again.
I love you. Wake me up to do the dishes.
Your Friend,
Spike
Twilight turned the paper over, half expecting there to be a drawing of the two of them, just one little colored sketch; that would be enough to complete the tearing of the heart from her chest.
There was none. There was just the schoolboy handwriting of the little dragon she had hatched. There was only the heartfelt pleas of the boy she had been raising, begging for her forgiveness… forgiveness for something he had not done.
There was just the plea of a child for the comfort that came from her approval.
She opened the door just slightly. She stood there, like a mother would, listening until she heard his breaths coming from their loft.
His breathing was shallow, and it tossed in intervals. He was having a nightmare; she had caused the child to have a nightmare!
Twilight did not think. She simply walked along the length of the library towards the kitchen. The picnic basket came up in her magic automatically, and she brought it with her as she approached the sink.
Shame.
Shame washed through her. It filled her. It occupied her.
She did not so much wash the dishes as drown them or erase them from existence with a long, prolonged scrubbing. She simply stood there at the sink, running the sponge across them over and over and over.
Her mind was largely blank. Only one word drifted around in her head, simply lounging there, taunting her as she tortured the dishes, silverware, and cups with her ceaseless scouring.
Immature…
The word bobbled around in her head, bouncing off of the events that she had set in motion. It went flying around her head one moment, only to roll softly across her perceptions in the next like a manic pinball game.
Immature…
The dishes had long ago ceased their resistance, and Twilight lifted the survivors out of the dirty dishwater. As her magic dried them off with a dozen dishcloths and placed them back in their prescribed places, the word lazed around her, still rolling back and forth across her mind.
Immature…
Before she had even realized that she had left the kitchen, Twilight found herself slowly opening the door to their living space, and making her way towards the stairs to their loft.
Each step felt like it weighed tonnes. Each one of her breaths felt like she was rationing the air in the room, as though she were afraid it would run out and choke her to death.
In a few steps, she caught sight of the dragon, the one laying asleep in his basket. He hadn’t even bothered to pull the curtains closed. All the signs simply said that he had crawled into bed. He was doubled over, as though something of the stomach ache that had sent him off to the safety of his basket still lingered in him.
She approached him cautiously, watching the ragged breaths lift out of him, the boy still being tossed by unhappy dreams… wracked by a nightmare her actions had created.
Twilight looked down across her little dragon. He was holding his faded blue blanket unevenly, tugging at it in little intervals. As she watched a shudder went through him, and his mouth came open, calling out soundlessly.
Twilight did not so much lower herself to the floor as collapse onto it. She had done this to him. She had hurt this child, this little boy who loved her. She had willfully allowed herself to become envious of his gentle, childish crush on a pony she had feelings for.
She had allowed her compulsive, panicky side to see things above and beyond what was truly there. She he had hurt the little boy who had slept by her bedside for a decade. And, in the end, she hadn’t even had the guts to go through with her purpose in doing so. She hadn’t been able to confess her feelings to Rarity. She had squandered his unknowing sacrifice.
She had hurt the boy who loved her most in the world.
At that moment, as she sat so close to him, she did not feel like a princess. She did not feel like a proper caregiver… she certainly did not feel like whatever combination of “sister”, “mother”, or even “best friend” that they had come to know each other as.
In that moment, she felt shame.
In that moment, she felt like an animal. She felt like a monster.
Immature? she thought, scolding herself. Twilight Sparkle, there’s only one immature creature in this room, and she needs to face that fact.
Another convulsion went through Spike, his nightmare still holding dominion over his features. In an instant she lowered her head, determined to come to his rescue, determined to earn back some shard of those titles that she had thrown away so easily.
“Shhhh,” she whispered. “Shhhhh, Spike, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re having a nightmare,” she whispered again, painting every drop of sweetness she could into her voice.
“Can you wake up, Spike?” she cooed. “I’m here now… everything is fine. You’re just having a nightmare. It’s just a nightmare. Shhhh… I’m here. Can you wake up for me, Spike?”
The boy relaxed, and his eyes fluttered. As they did she caught sight of redness in them, and a puffiness that set off the area around his eyes.
Oh, Celestia, she thought, new waves of guilt going through her. Oh, Luna… he cried himself to sleep…
Spike stretched, and then wiped his eyes with the back of his clawed hands. He blinked again, and then looked into Twilight’s face.
“Oh,” he said, slowly waking. “Oh, hey, Twilight. I thought it was you. Do... do you want me to get started on the dishes?”
He started to lift himself out of his basket, but Twilight’s hoof went across him, gently lowering him back.
“No, Spike, no,” she said, “I did them. I didn’t want to wake you… well, until just now. You must have had a scary nightmare, huh?”
“You did dishes?” he said, arching an eyebrow. He then recovered, sheepishly, and looked back at her as she winced. “Oh, sorry, Twi… it’s just that I… I just wanted to make it up to you, is all. I would have done them if you–”
She put her hoof over his mouth, and then spoke to him once more. “I read your note, Spike. How is your tummy? Is it any better?”
Spike’s hand went down to his stomach, but his eyes stayed on her. “Umm, well… Twi, are you still upset with me?” he asked.
"No, Spike, I was never upset… just disappointed,” she lied. She had never been disappointed or upset at the dragon. It had been an act. She had been covetous, envious. “I’m not upset with you at all.”
A part of her leapt as a wry grin stretched across his face, staring back at her as he lay across his basket. Her head now rested on the edge, very near his.
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his tummy. “Yeah, it’s a little better.”
“Spike?” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I made you so scared. I’m sorry that I made you so upset that it gave you a tummy-ache, and nightmares, too.”
Spike moved to protest, to say that he knew she was doing it for his own good.
She stopped him, unwilling to hear his attempt to please her… knowing that it arose from a lie.
“Spike,” she said, calling on all of the truth she could muster. “I am proud of you. I have always been proud of you. I will always be proud of you. That never changes, okay? Can you remember that?”
Spike looked back at her, a wider smile on his face.
“Sure, Twi,” he said. “Sure.”
Twilight inched her muzzle closer to him, making it so that her nose was pressed up against the side of his neck. The lies… they had taken much out of her. This day had drained her.
Now, a little sensation went over her, and she opened her eyes to find him stroking the spot between her eyes, just below her horn.
Even as tired, haggard, and defeated as he was… Spike’s first instinct had been to try to draw the worry that he sensed out of her first, to make her happy.
She lay there, her head across him as he lay in his basket, feeling the sensation of his claws combing her, tracing up and down her forehead until they slowed, went even slower, and then stopped.
His arm fell limp as the whelp drifted back into his nap.
“I love you too, Spike,” she whispered. “I’m sorry that I hurt you today… and I’m sorry for the next time that I hurt you, because I’m going to have to. I’m going to hurt you with the truth next time, and I’m sorry. I promise I won’t call you immature again. I promise.”
She let herself fall asleep with her head against his, her muzzle on his neck, drawing the nightmares that had been going through the dragon into herself, letting the uncertainty of her emotions and the lies that she had used against them feast upon her.
They lay together like that until dinner, until the arrival of the unicorn and the filly returned the welcome chorus of voices to their small home.
-------------------------------------------
“…and that’s how I found you. That’s why I said those things, Spike,” Twilight said.
Her admission presented itself to the room. It hung there in front of the closet door.
Her admission of guilt, her admission that she had tricked him, lied to him, that she had used her magic to make the chores appear on the list… that all stood out before him now. All of her cards had been laid on the table.
There was no sound from beyond the closet door.
“Spike,” she said. “I need you to know all of that. I need you to… to forgive me. I need…”
The closet door came open slightly, just the pop of the latch coming out of the plate, just the tiniest creak of the hinges and slightest squeak of the door knob announced its opening.
“Why?” came Spike’s voice, falling out of the closet.
“Spike?” she replied, lifting her head, hope floating through her.
“Why, Twi?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you do those things to me?”
Her initial excitement at seeing the door come open flew away as his words met her ears. Hadn’t the story explained it?
“Spike,” she sighed. “I... I did it because I was jealous of you…”
There was no movement from the door. There was no noise. She continued on.
“I was so jealous of the way you wear your feelings for Rarity. I was… I am so jealous of your little crush, of the way you–”
The door of the closet flew open, striking her in the face.
Chapter 5: Losses and Gains
Chapter 5: Losses and Gains
Twilight tumbled to the ground, landing on her back amid the ruins of her cuckoo clock.
She called out in pain, her head getting fuzzy as the door’s impact left flashes of light going through her eyes and a harsh sting across her lips. The soapy water that had sat on the floor over the last hour soaked her coat, leaving cold rivulets of water that ran down her sides as she spun back over onto her stomach.
“Ow!” she moaned.
Twilight looked back towards the closet door. It was still closed, amazingly. She realized that Spike had kicked it open so forcefully that it had flown open, hit her, bounced off the far wall, and, if the grumbling sounds coming from the far side were any indication, flown back and hit him in the face as well.
Twilight moaned again, and then shook her head back and forth, trying to get the relations of her homeless cuckoo bird to stop circling her head.
She just about had them stopped when the closet door flew open once more, crashing against the stairwell.
“No!” cried the grim figure that stood there. “No! No, you don’t… you, no!”
Spike’s eyes were clenched shut, and Twilight could very easily imagine that, had they been open, they would have been shining with the horrible emerald light that accompanied his deepest episodes of anger.
He waved the yellow winter boot through the air with his right arm, and at the same time he seemed to be favoring his left. It was folded against his chest, and he seemed to wince whenever it moved unexpectedly, or as the rubber boot flopped against his own body.
Oh, Celestia, Twilight thought, he must have hurt himself when he fell.
“No!” he screamed, storming out of the closet, his eyes clamped shut as though he couldn’t even stand to see her. “No! No, you… you don’t have the right to be jealous of me! No, not you!”
Twilight reeled backwards, his anger only seeming to get worse as he stomped past her, his eyes shut, the boot swinging through the air.
“No, Your Majesty,” he said, painting venom into the title, “you don’t get to be jealous of me! You don’t! Not you… not you who everypony has been cooing over since she was a filly! Not Celestia’s most favorite student! Not you, who skipped like three grades! Not you, the smarty who wowed all of her teachers!”
As he skidded across the wet floor he called out more of her achievements, scaring her and confusing her. Why? Why was he…
“Not you, Twilight Sparkle! You don’t get to be jealous of me! Not you, who gets to be a hero over and over! Not you, who gets to be a princess who everypony thinks is so great!”
“Spike!” Twilight shouted. “Please, be careful for–”
“No! No, I don’t want to hear it! You’ve gotten everything! You get to go on adventures! You get to go on picnics and birthdays with your friends! You’ve had such a great life and everypony loves you and–”
“Spike!” she called. “Watch out for the–”
Ignoring her, he ranted “–you have all of that, and you want the one thing that I have?! What’s wrong with you?! It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s… waaaggghhhh!”
Spike’s feet tangled in his apron, sliding him across the wet, soapy floor. The yellow boot came flying out of his grasp, going high into the air. The dragon gave one more cry and then, with an unceremonious pop, sank into the hole that Twilight’s jaw had left in the floor.
Twilight rose to her hooves. She was just about to ask him if he was all right when the winter boot came falling back down. It fell just perfectly enough to totally encapsulate him, leaving the boot spinning back and forth as his head went back and forth in surprise.
She raised her hoof to her mouth, stifling a giggle at the scene before her. The giggle faded away when she realized that there was something wet on her hoof, something that was warmer and more viscous than the sudsy waters that flowed around the floor of her home like so many displaced rivers.
She lifted her hoof from her lip, and was not surprised by what she found there. Blood. My lip is split, she realized, thinking back to how the door had struck her. Wonderful, just wonderful.
She was forced out of her contemplation as another roar filled the room, this one muffled, as though the one roaring had their head stuck in a yellow winter boot.
Twilight lifted her head just in time to see exactly that. Her eyes widened as she watched the boot expand like a balloon, and then a jet of green frame erupted from it, burning away the point and leaving a massive charred hole.
Great. Just… great. Now, on top of everything else, I need a new set of winter boots, too.
She looked at Spike. He was wrapped in his apron, immobilized it seemed, from the garment entangling his feet. His arms were bunched up at his sides, jammed tight between the broken boards and his body.
The boot swiveled around, looking more like a periscope than a piece of hoofwear. In a moment, the boot had found her, and inside its darkened reaches a set of eyes looked back at her with surprise.
“Oh, Spike,” she said, concern floating in her tone.
The eyes in the boot narrowed on her, filled with contempt, and then turned away. “Humph!” Spike called, his exasperation echoing around inside the boot.
Twilight sighed and raised herself off the floor. She slowly made her way across the sopping wet boards, sliding slightly on the suds before lowering herself back down at Spike’s side.
“Spike,” she asked, forcing her voice to go quieter. “Can we talk?”
Spike blew a smoke ring, the cloud steaming out of the boot in an oily haze.The boot fell forward, making it so that the charred remains of the point sat on the floor. It was all that Spike could do in his awkward position to avoid looking at her.
“Fine, then,” she answered, wiping the smudge from his smoke off her face. “At least now you can listen.”
The boot did not reply.
“Spike,” she began, “I am not proud of what I did to you. It was wrong. I lied to you, and I am sorry. I know that it hurts. I know that finding out what I did hurts. There’s nothing that I can do other than say that I'm sorry over and over and over again.”
“Get started, then,” he grumbled.
“Pressing on!” she said, once more ignoring his snark. “We have to talk about what… what it means for us. We need to talk about what my feelings for Rarity mean for your little crush…”
The boot lifted, and once more Twilight found herself staring at the unhappy eyes that sat in the darkness within.
“My little crush?” he asked. “What about your crush, shouldn’t we put that first? You know, like with absolutely everything else we do?!”
“Spike, please, one relationship crisis at a time. We can talk about–”
She startled herself, realizing what Spike had said.
“I-I don’t have a crush on Rarity, Spike! I love her!” she said, her voice rising once more. “There’s a big difference!”
“Oh, I agree!” answered the boot. “Maybe you can explain what it is, you know, since all that I’ve heard you say about her is how beautiful she is, and how nice it is to be touched by her, and the sound of her voice… and not one dang thing about her personality, her talents, or her grace!”
The boot stared back at her, and for a moment they shared a gaze.
“Yeah,” Spike said. “I haven’t heard you say one word in praise of her for the pony that she really is! That’s… wow, that’s making your feelings for Gash Aplenty look deep! You… you don’t even have a crush on her, Twi! You j-just – have the hots for her!”
“Oh?” she answered, no small amount of sarcasm in her own voice. “And the way that you see her? Your crush… the way that you make up T-shirts with her picture on it, the way you fawn over her hair? These are all signs of a deep, unbridled love that will last the ages?”
“Yes!” the boot answered. Almost immediately, a sort of quiet contemplation went over the boot, and it bowed slightly.
“Well, no, of course not… but, but it’s different for me, Twilight. It’s different because… because that’s all I can do for her,” he answered, his voice becoming quieter. “I help her with her projects because it makes me happy to be near her. I let her stick her pins in me because it makes me happy to see her become so excited about her sewing and stuff. I-I believe in her, and I do everything that I can to help her because it makes me happy to know that I’ve done my best for her.”
Spike’s head lowered some more, dipping the boot so that it presented the appearance of a clinically depressed giraffe.
“That’s what I do for her… because I love her. That’s what I do for her, because it’s all that I can… that’s all that I can do. That’s all that I can do, because…” he whimpered, his voice fading away.
Twilight felt her anger dripping away as he said the words. He was on the verge of admitting something to himself, something painful. Despite the knowledge that she had already hurt him, Twilight pushed him forward, wanting to help him through this step, knowing the fact that lingered around his crush.
“It’s all that you can do for her,” Twilight said, “because you are still a little boy, a dragon whelp...”
Silence.
“Yes,” he admitted, the word escaping him in a pained tone.
“And because Rarity is old enough to be exploring real relationships, ones that will take her places where… you’re not ready to go, yet,” she said, trying to put more and more understanding into her voice.
“Yes,” he answered in a deeply miserable, deeply hurt tone.
Poor Spike, she thought. My poor little guy…
Twilight thought about her little drake, the dragon whelp who sat wedged into the punctured floorboards.
Spike had a mental maturity that was beyond his years. She winced inwardly, knowing that her own parenting skills had probably been responsible for that, both in the good and in the bad sense. Yes, he still liked to joke around like a little kid, but no colt or filly his age would be asked to do the things he did for her.
He was wise beyond his years. Spike had an old soul. Yes, he was still a boy who sat around on his days of patting his tummy and smelling his toes, but he did more contemplating of his navel than anypony she had ever met.
Well, if he’d possessed a navel. Being born from an egg had kind of gypped him out of a belly button.
Still, it remained true that he was the one she had relied upon, and he had borne the trials and tribulations of it well. An old soul… one who had always worried about her, one who had always defended her and implored her to do her best. He had been the one who had called upon Celestia for help when a fit of adorable insanity had claimed her. He had been the one who had refused to stop helping her, who had sheepishly stayed by her side, and in the end, had been instrumental in saving an entire race of ponies from enslavement.
And, in her darkest moment, he had been the one at her bedside, saying that she could accomplish anything.
Anything, it seemed, but get a boot to talk to her about her new feelings.
Twilight sighed. Spike had a mind beyond his years, an old soul… and a body that had betrayed him.
Spike was a romantic. He believed in love. It was one of his defining traits. He was one of the “huggiest” creatures she had ever met. Once again today he had proven that he was not judgmental, that his love extended to all he knew without question or judgment.
Only his age, being a child with a child’s body and child’s perceptions and ability to contextualize, were what kept him from feeling the same way that she did. Yes, she had to admit, Spike loved Rarity. His feelings for her could not mature, though. His traitorous body had assured that. He may have been an old soul, but his body was that of a boy who had only seen the dawn of his second decade.
He may have had the mental capacity of a child who’d been raised by a bookish librarian, and may have had coping skills beyond what a whelp his age should have had to use, but his brain, physically, was still that of a boy who had not yet dealt with the absurd wonders of puberty.
Whelp his age.
Twilight shuddered slightly. What did that mean? They knew so little about dragons. Spike’s quest to discover more about his kind had ended poorly to say the least. The idea that her little baby dragon could end up like those… those jerks stung at her. Did he really need to become a greedy brute to grow? The fact that he’d grown as much as he had in the years they had been together surely meant something. There had to be some hope that he could escape a life dictated by greed. There had to be.
When he had been very little, he had slept right in her bed with her. The dragon fingerling had passed his nights in her care after coming from the nursery. The wailing infant had been moved to his own crib when his molts had left her pulling his skin from her mane during class. He had wailed and cried all that night, only dropping from exhaustion in the earliest hours of the morning.
Now, his body was causing a rift between them again.
He might spend the rest of Rarity’s lifetime as a whelp this size. Or he could sneeze tomorrow and sprout to the size of a full-grown stallion. Who knew? All that she knew was that, at this moment, Spike could not access the higher functions and concepts that came with romantic love. He could see it, feel it… but it was a place where he was just not ready to go.
That didn’t mean that she hadn’t hurt him… it just meant she had hurt him in a way that he couldn’t fully explain to himself.
“Twilight?” Spike asked, pain floating in his voice. “You have so much. You have so many ponies that love you. You have so many who respect you. You get to be a hero over and over. You get to go to parties that I don’t and do things that I can’t. You got to become a princess, even… why did you have to take the one thing that I have? Why did you have to take my feelings?”
“Spike,” she said, keeping her voice low, “I didn’t take your feelings. You still have them; they are yours to have. There’s nothing wrong or bad with how you feel about Rarity. I know because I feel them, too. I really do, Spike. I hope that you believe me when I say that I want to see her happy, that I want to be the one to make her happy. I hope that I can do as well as you have. I hope I can make her smile and help her do her best, just like you have–”
Twilight felt the wrathful, jealous, demon inside herself die as she praised Spike’s feelings for the unicorn. She watched, happily, as it shriveled up, fell away into dust, and blew away on the winds of her emotions.
“–and I know that it must hurt so much to hear me say these things. But, Spike, what I’m asking is that you let me tell you why I need you to know.”
Spike looked up to her, his eyes filling the space in the boot, looking like a forlorn puppy. “Twilight,” he said. “All I’ve got in this world is the ponies I care about. All I have is the feelings that I’ve got for them. I had to give all of my birthday presents away so I didn’t get all greedy. The doggie basket I sleep in was here in the library when we arrived. Heh, if I hadn’t remembered to grab my blankie and stuff it in my pocket before we left Canterlot, it probably would have been tossed away…”
Twilight’s ears fell down, and as she looked at him she felt a deep sadness come over her. He was right. He had nothing. The only things he had in the world were his relationships.
“Now… now I feel like I’m gonna to lose both the mares I love most in the world.”
Twilight lifted her head. She tilted it back and forth, pondering his statement. “Alright,” she said. “I give up. That sounds like a pretty scary thing. What do you mean, Spike? What do you mean lose? And… both? Are you… are you afraid that she won’t feel the way she does about you? Are you afraid that…”
Twilight gulped a little.
“Twi, your lip,” the dragon whimpered, noticing the blood for the first time.
“Spike, I’m not mad at you for having a crush on her,” she said, forcing the topic. “I’m sorry if–”
“Twilight,” he interrupted, “if I could put my finger on your mouth right now, I would, even with the blood and stuff…”
Twilight went quiet, letting him speak his mind.
“Twi, I believe you. I believe you when you say that you want to make Rarity as happy as she makes you feel. I believe you when you say that you have real feelings for her, not just ‘the hots,’” he said.
Twilight tried her best to stifle a giggle. The image of her little baby dragon saying “the hots” would be with her through the rest of her life. She fought back to an attentive stance as he continued.
“But, Twi, I-I don’t know much about being in love, but that kinda thing, it seems like it takes time and effort and give and take and, well, that’s all time that neither of you will spend with… me.”
Twilight began to open her mouth, but he silenced her once more.
“I’ve always… I’ve always kinda known that you were gonna start dating someday,” he said, his voice fading. “I’ve always been getting ready for the day when… when I wouldn’t be the most important boy in your life anymore…”
He looked away, and Twilight nearly began to cry. It was only his being trapped in the floorboards that kept her from scooping him up in a massive, reassuring, hug. Instead, she lowered herself down as far as she could, her belly soaking in the cold, soapy waters that lay across the floor once more.
“But, but I’ve always thought that if that, when that happens, that I’d have Rarity to go to, that I’d always have the way I feel for her to keep me strong, to keep me from becoming lonely,” he said as the boot slowly came around to face her again. “Just like… just like if she ever found a stallion, that I’d have you to hold me, and to tell me that it will be okay…”
He forced himself to laugh. It was a transparent gesture, obvious and insincere. “Heh… but the colt you have feelings for, well, isn’t a colt! And the stallion that I was afraid was going to steal my place in her eyes… well, is a mare… the mare that I was afraid of losing in the first place. Heh, it’s like Applejack says about the ponies at her Co-Op, huh?”
Twilight turned her eyes towards the ceiling, thought for a second, and then answered him in her best interpretation of Applejack’s drawl. “Ya got kicked in the flank comin’ and goin’?” she said, arching an eyebrow.
“Heh,” he laughed, this time in sincerity, “I tried to wrap my head around losing one of you… I never imagined losing both of you.”
“No, Spike, that’s not true. You aren’t losing either of us, I promise,” she said, forcing her jaw closer to the hole it had made on the floor, sliding as close to him as she could, her face kicking up more puddles of the sudsy waters.
“Spike, part of being a grown-up is knowing how to treat those who are important to you… knowing how to keep your relationships strong. This… this doesn’t change how Rarity sees you, I know it, and it certainly doesn’t make me love you any less. I promise. I’ll go and get the cupcake to stick in my eye right now, if you want…”
Spike smirked, the expression evident even through the darkness of the boot. She let herself smile a little, too, grateful for the closest thing to a smile he’d worn in over an hour.
“I told you once that I’d never replace you, that I’d never send you away. I meant that, Spike. That doesn’t change for anything. You can’t be replaced in my heart, and I know that Rarity feels the same way. It… it must be scary for you right now, but, when you are older, you’ll see why. You’ll see that there are so many different ways that we love one another,” she said, pushing her face as close to the entangled dragon as she could, looking up into his eyes.
“Spike,” she said, “I’ve never loved anypony, any creature, the way that I love you, and I don’t think it is possible for anyone to. I’m sure that Rarity feels the same way about you. I’m sure she loves you dearly, and that is something that I could never steal from you… something that I have never wanted to.”
Spike looked down at her, at Her Majesty Twilight Sparkle, lying amid the floating soap bubbles, the scattered laundry, and the ruined bits of cuckoo clock. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and then looked at her once more.
“Twi, I get what you’re trying to say. It’s what you’re supposed to tell foals… tell them that ‘I love you in a special way – a way I don’t love that pony’. What you’re trying to say is your love for Rarity is romantic and stuff… the way you love me is like for family,” he said.
Stop having such an old soul, my baby dragon...
“But I don’t believe it,” he said, dropping worry and fear through her. “I don’t believe it, because, if you think that you love Rarity as much as I love her, then you are going to need to work really hard to make her happy.”
He stared directly into her eyes. “If you think you love her as much as I do, then ya just won't stop until she’s happy, then you’ll make her believe that the most perfect special somepony has been presented to her as a gift from Celestia. If you love her as much as I do, then you are going to have to give up time with me… then we’ll have to see less and less of one another. Because, Twi, I think Rarity is worth it. I’d lose my time with you, and with her, if you can make her happy.”
Twilight’s jaw dropped again, nearly creating a second crater in the floor.
Spike heaved a mighty sigh, and then, looking like he’d just run a marathon. The boot drooped, and the boy inside went silent. Twilight remained still for a long while, watching as her little dragon dwelt with is own inner thoughts. The sunlight fell across the broken pieces of the clock, and the soap bubbled drifted along on the unseen currents on the floor.
Spike sighed, then he looked at her once more.
“And I’m pretty sure you can. So, I forgive you, Twilight Sparkle,” he said. “I forgive you for lying to me, for using me, Twi. I forgive you because if you feel anything close to what I feel when I'm around Rarity... then I know what it's like. I forgive you because you’re really, really sad that you hurt me, and it’s hurting you to know that you did. If there’s anything, anything, anything that I’ve never, ever wanted, it was to make you sad… I’ve never wanted to hurt you, too.”
“Spike,” she whispered.
“Twi,” he continued, “you’re the most amazing pony I’ve ever known. You’re the smartest, you’re the most powerful, and you’re the most incredible. You're just awesome, Twi."
Spike took another long breath, and his eyes, even buried deep in the boot as they were, seemed to fill with emotions. He closed his eyes, and Twilight almost jumped with alarm at the sight of the pain that seemed to hang over him, almost hanging above him visibly.
His eyes came back open slowly, and he looked at Twilight, and then breathed an admission, one that seemed to split him open and leave all of his hopes streaming away like the white of a cracked egg.
"If anypony can make Rarity happy, it’s you.”
Twilight didn’t dare breathe.
Spike drew a breath large enough for both of them, and she watched as he released it as a massive sigh, one that hung around them in a moist cloud. His eyes closed for a moment, and when they came back open he seemed to have deflated a little, as though some part of himself had slipped out.
“Twi,” he said. “I’m… I’m happy for you. I-I’m okay with you having feelings for Rarity. I love her. I will always have feelings for her, and I don’t think they’re wrong. B-but I love Rarity enough to want her to be with somepony w-who can love her in ways I can’t.”
He stared at her for another second.
“Congratulations, Twi. Be good to her,” he whispered.
She watched as the boot drooped, and his eyes disappeared inside them, clenched shut once more. Twilight's ears popped up, searching through the boot for any traces of weeping. She found none. He was choking them back. He was being strong. He was being strong for her. After all she had done to him, he was being strong for her.
"Spike," she said in a soft tone. "I don't want to steal from you again. I don't want you to ever run away from my hug again. If there is anything I can do or say then..."
"Please stop being sad, Twi," the boot croaked. "Please just stop being sad. I hate it when you're sad."
Twilight made tiny motions, closing the already tiny distance between them. “Spike,” she said, matching his tiny tone, “are you sure? Are you absolutely, positively sure?”
The boot slowly lifted itself to face her, and she tilted her head, looking deep into the emerald eyes within. They searched through one another. They stared into one another’s eyes until they found the truth that sat there, until the bonds of love, trust, and closeness that had been tested were rediscovered once more.
What Twilight found was the little baby dragon who had slept next to her bed, or even snuggled close to her, for most of her life… the dragon that had been with her through everything.
What Spike found was the filly who had stood over his crib playing “Peekaboo” with him, his first memory, the pony he loved the most in the world.
"How can I be sad?" she said, her voice regaining some strength. "I have my great little guy with me."
Twilight giggled a little, and he answered.
“I’d give ya a hug,” he said, wiggling the fingers of his trapped hands, “but…”
Seeing the context of his dilemma, Twilight lifted her muzzle, and as she pressed it deep within the burned-out point of the boot, it made contact with a familiar nose. She gave a little motion, and soon the two dear friends were nuzzling their faces across one another as best they could, reconnecting the last frayed ends of the long, happy bonds they had long shared.
Eventually, Spike’s voice lifted from within the yellow confines. “Twi?” he asked. “This is nice and all, but… well, my arms are asleep, and I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Oh. Oh! Well, let’s see!” she said, lifting her head away from his. Her magic came alight as she looked the spectacle of the dragon over once more.
“Careful, Twi,” he said, feeling the familiar sensation of her magic falling around him, “I don’t wanna find my bottom turned into an orange or anything!”
“Oh, shush!” she said, smiling a little at the return of his humor. “It’s a simple little bit of telekinesis! I just need to be sure to grab ahold of…”
The magic lifted him up, and soon the dragon hovered in mid-air, looking around as the magic unraveled the apron and dislodged the boot from…
“Aaaaggghhhh!” he called, slipping from Twilight’s magical grasp.
Spike fell through the hole in the floor and into the basement below. His landing in the basement was marked by a series of thuds, childish curse words, the sound of toppling scientific equipment, primary explosions, and terrified poultry… the latter being for reasons beyond her understanding.
“Twilight!” called a rather wounded and very upset-sounding dragon drake.
“Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry!” she called, her voice high with concern. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” she repeated over and over, turning at once and galloping towards the basement stairs, ready to see to his injuries and help extinguish any fires.
“Twilight, the soap!” she heard him cry. It took her a moment to discern his meaning, but by that time her hoof had already come in contact with the white bar of soap that sat at the top of the stairs.
There was a single surprised gasp, and then the library was filled with the sounds of an alicorn princess falling down the basement stairs. This was marked by her cries of “Aargh!” and “Oof” and the sound of toppling scientific equipment, secondary explosions, and the continued sounds of terrified poultry.
Silence reigned around the basement for a good minute. In time, the sounds of a little dragon lifted through the chamber beneath the vast, ancient oak that made up their library home.
“Twi?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“Nope,” she answered. “Not really. You?”
The dragon went silent once more, but after awhile his voice crept across the basement.
“Twi?”
“Yes, Spike?” she answered.
“Love hurts.”
The alicorn was silent for a moment, and then replied to his observation.
“It does.”
_____________________________________________________________________
Owloysius arrived home to quite the scene. The owl looked around Golden Oaks Library, contemplating all that he saw as one of his eyebrows arched and his beak hung open. He flapped his way up to the living quarters of the library, and there he found his Mistress and his Supervisor.
He very nearly passed out at the sight of them.
Twilight Sparkle and Spike had not had a physical altercation, but they certainly had done a job on one another… and on the library.
They sat together in the bathroom, dabbing peroxide on one another and running gauze and bandages.
“So, ummm, Twi?” Spike said as he dripped the iodine onto her cuts.
“Ow,” she answered.
“Sorry,” he said.
“That’s all right,” she lied, wincing each time the applicator brushed her coat. “What were you about to ask, Spike?”
“Well,” he said with a sigh, “when you told Rarity, how did she take it? How… well, how did she react?”
“Well, Spike, that’s the… ow,” she said, wincing as he wrapped more adhesive bandages to her.
“Sorry,” he answered.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Spike.”
Spike looked out from beyond his own bandage to find her face. She looked very nervous, and a little… anxious?
“Spike, I couldn’t tell her,” she said. “When I tried, at the picnic… it just wouldn’t come.”
“So, wait,” he said, dropping the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. It bounced off of her outstretched wing.
“Ow,” she said.
“Sorry! Sorry,” he answered.
“It’s all right,” she said.
“What you’re saying is, Twi, that we went through all of this today… and Rarity doesn’t even know that you have feelings for her?”
“No,” Twilight whispered, “no… she doesn’t. I wasn’t brave enough to tell her.”
“Oh, Twi!” he called, leaning forward to wrap her in a hug.
“Ow!” she said.
“Oh… sorry!” he answered.
“It’s okay, really,” she said, grimacing. She leaned back to him, ignoring the protests of her body, and lifted some more splints and bandages into place on her little dragon.
“That’s why I needed to tell you first. That’s why I needed your forgiveness. That’s why I needed you to be the first to accept that I had feelings for a mare, to accept my feelings for Rarity,” she said, running her hoof across his frills.
“Ow,” he said.
“Sorry,” she answered. “Spike, I needed all of that… because I need you. I need your help, as I always do. I-I need you to be there for me. I need you to believe in me, as you always do.”
She smiled down at him.
“I need my Number One Assistant to help me through this, because it’s all new to me. Spike, this is just another chapter in our lives together, and I don’t know how it is going to turn out. I don’t know if Rarity can have these feelings for me. I don’t even know if she can have feelings like the type I hope she does for a mare.”
“Heh,” he chuckled. He began to cross his arms, but that hurt too much. “ I guess that if Blueblood can’t put a mare off stallions, no stallion can."
Twilight rolled her eyes… but that hurt too much. Instead she just lowered them back to Spike again.
“Spike,” she said, “in this story, you aren’t a bit player. You are part of the story of my life, and I can’t… I wouldn’t leave you out of it. You’re the main supporting character. I need you with me, I need to know you’ll be there for me.”
She smiled over him again, awaiting his answer.
“Are you ready for the next chapter, Number One Assistant?”
Spike smiled back up to her. He was going to give her a thumbs-up, a new gesture he had devised to show his approval for statements or situations… but it hurt too much. Instead, he simply winked and smiled.
“That’s what I’m here for, Sister!”
Twilight giggled. Spike smiled. They both moved forward and attempted to wrap the other in a hug.
“Ow,” they said in unison.
“Sorry,” they replied in kind.
They stared at one another once again, the two best friends simply shaking their heads and smiling with goofy grins and contemplative giggles.
“Where… where doesn’t it hurt, Twi?” Spike finally asked.
“Here,” she said, raising her hoof to point at the top of her head, just beneath her horn. Knowing what Spike wanted to do, she lowered her head as the little drake raised himself up on his tiptoes.
Spike placed a kiss there, gently touching his lips to the spot between her eyes and under her horn.
“Twi,” he said, lowering himself back down, “do me a favor. I know I asked you to make Rarity happy, and I hope, hope, hope that you can show her that you want to. But, no matter how far your relationship with her goes, do me one thing?”
“What is it, Spike?” she asked.
“Never, ever, ever let her forget that she has a very, very, very, very, very special somepony.”
Twilight’s heart leapt at the little gentledrake’s statement… but that hurt too much. Instead, she smiled back at him, little happy tears forming at the edges of her eyes.
“Spike?” she asked. “Where doesn’t it hurt?”
“Here,” he answered with a hoarse chuckle, pointing at his right cheek. “It doesn’t hurt here, Twi.”
Procer Twilight Sparkle Harmonia lowered her head, and then planted a kiss on the cheek of the child, the drake leaning into it slightly to capture all of the joy and comfort that came from the touch of the one he knew best in the world.
Owloysius felt himself smile, and as such he left them alone to go ponder the puddles in the living room, the guilty-looking bar of soap in the basement, and sympathize with the homeless cuckoo bird.
-------------------------------------------
"And you've been doing odd jobs and the like?" asked the unicorn, the words muffling slightly as they slid down the stairs and around corners.
"Yeah!" Spike answered before taking another bite out of the garnet. His eyes swam across the delicious spread of gems that Rarity had placed before him. Her generosity was on display today... and behind his eyes, something flickered. A worry presented itself, and he brushed it aside before it could sink into him.
"You know, whatever pops up. I'm saving bits to get for Twilight," he said, hiding a little burp behind his hand.
"Twilight?" Rarity answered, the name seeming to hang around in an uncertain cloud.
""I broke Twilight's cuckoo clock by accident. Well, she says the 'we' broke it, but I wanna buy her a new one. Or get the old one fixed," he said. "Ya know. So, odd jobs, here and there."
“Well, I must say that's very nice of you, Spikey-Wikey,” Rarity said, her voice coming from the upstairs of the refurbished Carousel Boutique. “Are you quite sure that you’ve had enough to eat?”
“Plenty, milady,” he answered, lifting his voice. “Thank you so much.”
“You… you are most welcome,” she said, a form of anxiety creeping into her voice as she appeared in the upstairs hallways and began to descend the stairs. “Are you quite certain that there is nothing else I can get for you? Something to drink, perhaps?”
This will be so hard for the poor dear, she thought. This will murder the little darling.
“No... no, Rarity, I’m fine,” Spike said, sensing the tone in her voice. “I-I didn’t expect to get anything at all when I came here. I just, well… you know, showed up to help.”
“Yes, darling,” she said, joining him. “You know that your help means the world to me. You know that you are dear to me. B-but…”
At the word, Spike wheeled around, and Rarity’s expression said everything. The fire ruby hung around her neck, the gift he had given her long ago. In an instant, he knew where this was going. In a moment, he knew what was about to happen here in the immaculate, newly-ropened boutique.
He gave a little shake, and his snarky, sardonic side opened up, his great defense against a world that was so much bigger than himself.
“Uh oh,” he whined. “A ‘but’. There’s always gotta be a great, big ‘but.’”
The two laughed at the little joke, Rarity hiding behind her hoof at the slightly off-color remark. When she lowered her hoof, the vision of a dragon drake hiding behind a painted smile met her, and the tears forming at the sides of his face began to tear her apart.
“I-Is it b-because I’m a d-dragon?” he asked, the pain welling up to the surface.
Rarity missed a step. He had guessed it right away. He had somehow known… as though he himself were anticipating some reason for the topic to be broached. Her hooves moved instantly, and in a moment she was drawing the dragon into her chest, pulling him closer to her.
“Oh, my poor Spikey-Wikey! I am so sorry, I am so very sorry,” she said, her own vice catching. “I haven’t meant to hurt you. You are so dear to me, Spike. I’ve known of your feelings for me a great long while.”
She ran her hoof through his frills, ran her face against his.
“It is not because you are a dragon, Spike. I’ve simply been unable to return your feelings because… because…”
“Because I’m still a little kid,” he choked.
“Yes,” she said, a sense of relief going across her, her whole frame thankful for his understanding. “I-it’s hard for me, or any adult, to explain, but I can not have romantic feelings for a child, Spike. No healthy adult does; no adult worthy of the trust of a child would claim such emotions for them.”
She ran her face across his again. She fought for the right things to say.
“Spike, darling, I knew of your feelings, and I let you feel them because… because they were making you happy. It made me happy to know that helping me, spending time with me, made you happy,” she said. “But… but, oh, Spikey-Wikey, I can’t keep letting you live in the shadow of that hope. Not with… not with how things have changed for me.”
She felt Spike jump in her forelegs. She lifted away from him, grasping his hands in her hooves. She lifted them up until they traced the white of her coat across her neck, until they came up under the curls of her exquisite mane.
And as she guided them back down, the fire ruby necklace came with it, the gorget held in his clawed hands.
“Spike, never, ever, ever doubt that you are special to me. Never ever, ever doubt that I love you as dearly as mare can love a child who she has been fortunate enough to have enter her life. Never, ever, ever doubt that your gentleness, commitment, and caring have meant the world to me,” she said, sniffling back some tears.
She wiped her hoof across her face, still holding the necklace to his hands.
“Spikey-Wikey, never, ever, ever doubt that someday, some mare, some dragoness, some griffoness or some female creature will see you for the wonderful, intelligent, handsome, compassionate, caring, generous, humorous gentledrake that you are,” she said, her voice breaking even further.
She steadied herself, and then pressed the fire ruby into his chest with both of her hooves.
“But, Spike,” she said, taking a firm breath, “with what I’ve come to know about myself over these last few weeks… I, I have to let you know. It is only fair to let you know that… that mare will never be me.”
She looked down at the fire ruby that he held in his trembling hands.
“I won’t keep it under false pretenses.”
She turned her head. She expected him to begin wailing, screaming, begging. Yet, after a few minutes, nothing of the sort occurred. She slowly turned her head back to face him once again, expecting the worst.
He was crying, but it wasn’t nearly what she had expected. He seemed restrained, as though he had been warned, as though there were something that had tempered his response.
Even as the tears flowed down his face, he took deep breaths, and then he lifted the necklace back up to her.
“Rarity?” he said, forcing some strength into his voice. “I-I didn’t give it to you for any other reason than… than I saw that it would make you happy. I just want you to be happy, that’s all I want.”
He wiped his face across the back of his arms, drawing the tears across the slick surface of his scales.
“I-I can’t stop feeling the way about you that I do. I can’t stop seeing you that way. I’m sorry. But, but, Rarity, I didn’t give it to you ‘cause I wanted anything in return. I gave it to you because you’re a beautiful mare who deserves nice things. I gave it to you because you’ve been a good friend to me, and I want you to be happy. There wasn’t any false pretense… it was all true pretense!”
She giggled slightly, surprising herself at her reaction to his innocent mistake of comprehension.
Oh, Spikey-Wikey, never change…
Spike took a deep breath, and then stared up to her again. He lifted the fire ruby, offering to return it. To Spike’s surprise, it was now Rarity who had the tears falling down her face.
“Very well then,” she said, coughing a little to hide her emotions. “Spikey-Wikey, my dear friend, if that is the case, then I once more accept your generous gift.”
She leaned closer to the whelp, and her hooves lifted her great, thick curls off of her shoulders, revealing the gentle curves of her neck.
The drake stood up on his tiptoes, graciously answering the lady’s request to affix it in its prescribed place.
“So,” he said, gently letting his hands fall across her neck, fighting with the latch, “something you realized about yourself? Something about relationships, huh? That’s why you had to tell me. You wanted me to know first.”
“Y-Yes,” she said, trepidation in her voice, not understanding where all of his magnificent understanding could be coming from. “It’s… it’s something that, that I hadn’t thought… something…”
“You like a mare, don’tcha?” he said.
Spike could feel Rarity startle, sense her eyes going wide, and feel her draw a heavy breath.
“S-Spike… I-I… it’s, oh, Spike, I want, I need…”
Rarity could feel the fear welling up in her. She felt Spike pulling away from her, leaving the necklace around her neck. She forced herself to look down, look to whatever form of surprise or judgment sat on his features at her admission.
To her continued confusion, she found none. The only thing there was the simple stare of a boy looking back to her with… understanding? Acceptance? No… no, there was something more.
“It’s okay, Rarity,” he said, stepping towards her again. In a moment he was running his hand up and down her foreleg, as though trying to draw the confusion and worry out of her. “That’s okay. It really is. Everypony who loves you will be okay with that. Every creature who loves you will accept that.”
She hadn’t dreamed that it could go this well. She couldn’t have dared hope.
“Rarity?” he said, still drawing his hand up and down her leg. “I have to ask… the mare, the one you’ve discovered that you have feelings for. Was it only, well, just over the last few weeks that you realized it?”
Rarity drew a gasp, and her mouth came open. She emitted a small, indelicate squeak, instantly trying to hide it inside of a wince. She tried to hide there, behind her eyes, but she could not.
“Rarity?” she heard him say again. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She opened her eyes. He was still crying, but something had changed. It was the most peculiar thing. He was smiling. He was crying and smiling.
“You don’t have to tell me, but… Rarity, the mare, is it somepony I know? Somepony who is already very special to me? Somepony who we both love?
Her secret spilled out in front of her, and Rarity began to weep openly. Her fear consumed her, and feelings that she never thought she could have for one of her friends suddenly opened up in front of the dragon, the one she needed to know first, and the one whom she thought she would be breaking with this truth.
Instead, as she sobbed, her ran his hands up and down her forelegs, trying to calm her.
“Spike! Spike, what am I to do?” she sobbed. “I-I couldn’t tell her, when we were staying with you. I didn’t know how! What… what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she thinks poorly of me for feeling this way for a mare! What, what if it destroys our fri–”
Rarity went silent as a single clawed finger fell across her lips. Her eyes fell down to the little dragon again, diving through his, the grown mare finding herself in the ridiculous position of searching the expression of a child for comfort.
She found it there in abundance.
“Shhh, hey, it’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay, Rarity. It’s okay.” Tears still dripped out of his eyes, but he still wore that smile, a smile that seemed filled with something that Rarity could only describe as… hope.
He moved his finger from her mouth upwards, gently rubbing the space under her horn and between her eyes until her tears slowed, until her breathing slowed.
You deserve nice things, Rarity, thought Spike. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with a pony who can make you happy in ways I can’t. Just… make her happy, too.
“Rarity?” Spike whispered.
The unicorn calmed, only a few tears were rolling down her cheeks now. She looked down to discover his hands sitting flat before her, and she lowered her chin into them, letting him hold her head so he could look into her eyes.
“Rarity,” he said, “there’s something I have to tell you.”
His smile became sweeter, and something of his mischievous side arose in him. With that, the dragon played his part in this chapter of the lives of the mares he loved most in the world. His voice erupted in a singsong tone even as the last tear ran down his face, his words filing the boutique as he prepared to let her know an important truth.
“Rarity… I know something you don’t know!”
End.