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.