Sweetie Belle lifted the glass to her lips. She could make out the amber liquid swirling inside by the dim light of her horn. She closed her eyes and cracked open her mouth, letting a few droplets of the firewater flow in. The liquid was cool on her tongue, but it burned as it fell down her throat.

She coughed and set the glass back down.

The Golden Oats café was beautiful tonight. The lights had been dimmed until only the flickering of the tea-lights on each table were visible. The walls had been draped in holly and tinsel, with red berries glistening like blood in the yellow light. Cardboard snowflakes hung from the ceiling, their shadows drifting across the floor.

Sweetie Belle lifted the glass to her lips. Idly, she looked around the small room, wondering if any of the couples sitting around the walls had recognized her. Her other hoof went automatically to the silver lace that Rarity had woven through her mane before sending her off.

Yet nopony so much as glanced in her direction. She tilted the glass back and grimaced, relishing the burn that dripped down her throat.

“Is this seat taken?”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened, and she slammed the glass back down onto the table. Her chest was hit with a series of wracking coughs, a few drops of fire spilling over into her lungs instead of her stomach.

“Sp-spike,” she choked out. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Spike gave her a toothy grin. “Guess it’s open. Thanks.”

He swung the chair out and swept himself down onto its surface. “I didn’t know you were allowed to drink that stuff,” he said, nodding at the glass of firewater.

“What Rarity doesn’t know can’t hurt me,” Sweetie said. “Besides. The waiter wouldn’t have served me if he didn’t think I could handle it. Shouldn’t you be with Twilight or something?”

“She’s with family,” Spike said. His longer scales glimmered in the candlelight, and his deeper, verdant-green spines matched almost perfectly the holly draped over the ceiling lights. He took a moment to adjust his chair; at just under an adult pony’s height, his feet were able to easily touch the floor, but his much larger tail took some arrangement. “She wanted me to stay, but I feel like she’ll be fine without me. Besides—I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“And how’d you know where I’d be?”

“Easy,” he said. “This is the same place you came last year, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Sweetie said. She stared down at the table, her eyes lingering over a blue folder sitting beside her glass.

“That was a beautiful final solo, by the way,” Spike said quietly. Sweetie looked up—his eyes were also on the folder.

“Your narration wasn’t too shabby, either,” she pointed out.

“Bah,” Spike said. “I’ve been doing that faux accent for years—it’s nothing special. But you?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “I swear—they’ll have heard that high note all the way out to Appleloosa.”

She giggled. “You’re just saying that.”

“Maybe,” he said. He shot her another grin. “You can’t really tell, can you?”

“Spike, I’ve known you for years,” Sweetie said. “You wear your thoughts on your spines.”

“Guilty,” he said, arms above his head. “How’d you catch me?”

She rolled her eyes, but grinned back. “Maybe this firewater is good for something beside throwing my throat into a fireplace.”

“Which fireplace? That one?” Spike nodded over to the small, brick-walled hearth glowing red on the side of the café. “Or the five hundred others all over Canterlot?”

“Let’s go with the latter,” Sweetie said. “Definitely feels like it.”

Spike snorted. “So, Ms. Belle—has anypony stopped you yet to ask about the pageant? Any devilish stallions swept you off your hooves to regale you with praise for your voice?”

“N-no,” she said, cheeks reddening a bit. She took a deep breath, eyes flickering down toward the music folder. Its cover bore the same symbol as the one on her flank: a musical note overlaying a heart. “Nopony’s said anything at all, really.”

Spike tutted loudly. “They don’t know what they’re missing. Geez—you’d think that at least one audience member would have thrown himself at your hooves by now.”

“Spike, I—”

“Oh, Madame Sweetie Belle!” he said loudly, standing up and straightening his bowtie. “Your voice is like a choir of angels. Truly does it sing in my soul—tell me, will you come home with me on this fine night and sing me hymns until the come of dawn?”

“Spike,” Sweetie Belle said, giggling behind her hoof. “Your—your tail.”

Spike blinked and glanced behind him. “Oh, dang it.”

His long, reptilian tail bobbed innocently up and down behind him, the chair he’d been sitting on dangling by its tip.

“I thought,” Spike sputtered as he tried to remove the chair from his tail, “that we’d stopped this! Darn it, tail—I need you to cooperate here!”

Sweetie Belle threw her head back and laughed as Spike struggled with the offending piece of furniture. By now, a few couples had begun to glare at them from their own tables, but Sweetie ignored them.

Finally, Spike managed to clear the chair from his tail. He cleared his throat as he sat back down, making sure to push his tail to the side. His cheeks were a bright, rosy purple-red that clashed terribly with his spines. A final giggle slipped out from behind Sweetie’s hooves.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike said. “Funny.”

Sweetie Belle snickered.

“Think we’ve annoyed them enough yet?” Spike asked, raising a claw and pointing it around the room.

“Nah,” Sweetie said. “They can suffer through a little more.”

Spike closed his eyes and grinned. “Your wish is my command.”

“Stop it, Spike,” Sweetie said. “You’re getting too sappy on me. Don’t tell me you’re getting into all that—what was it? Girly frou-frou nonsense?”

“I was ten!” Spike complained. “Did Rarity seriously remember that all this time?”

“No,” Sweetie said, her cheeks dimpling. “I did.”

“Then tell me,” Spike said. “Got any other dirt on me that I should know about? Or is that it?”

“Hm.” Sweetie Belle prodded her chin. “I think that’s it. Should I ask Rarity or Twilight for more?”

“No,” Spike said quickly.

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow at him.

“I mean—shouldn’t we leave them alone tonight? Don’t want to bother them.”

Sweetie Belle shook her head, smiling. “All right,” she said. “Just for tonight. Though tomorrow, your dirty laundry is mine.”

“Yeep. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Sweetie shot him an evil smirk—but let it fade as she glanced around the room. All of the couples here seemed so happy together, their Hearth’s Warming Candles shining amidst the dim light. “I wonder how Rarity and Fancy are doing.”

“Fancy Pants? That fashion dude from Canterlot?”

“You’re thinking of Hoity Toity,” Sweetie Belle said. “Fancy is in the Canterlot House of Lords.”

Spike groaned. “One of those ponies. Yeesh.”

“Fancy’s a good stallion!” Sweetie said. “He’s not selfish or arrogant like those other nobles at all! He even runs his own charity!”

“Okay, okay!” Spike’s claws hovered in front of his face. “He’s a cool guy—I get it.”

He lowered his hands and offered a tentative smile. “I guess Rarity’s pretty lucky to have a guy like him.”

“More like he’s lucky to have somepony like Rarity,” Sweetie said. She blew a strand of her mane out of her eyes. Her horn lit up unconsciously, her magic readjusting her lace headband.

“I’ll bet,” Spike said. “Though his sister’s a pretty awesome mare herself.”

Sweetie’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced up. Their eyes met. Spike’s slitted pupils seemed to glitter with tiny stars, the reflected candlelight lighting up the otherwise-black ovals.

She instantly turned away, The rustling of scales told her that Spike had done the same. The two sat quietly for a few seconds, both staring at opposite walls.

“Man,” Spike finally said. “The Hearth’s Warming Candles look really nice tonight.”

Sweetie found herself nodding. “They do.”

“Like little stars,” Spike said. His voice sounded...odd. Distant. “And they each have one.”

“Yeah,” Sweetie said quietly. Something was tugging on the back of her mind, but she couldn’t tell what.

Spike turned back to face her. “Have you found anypony to light your candle with yet?”

“No,” Sweetie said. The word came surprisingly easily, but she fidgeted with her hooves beneath the table anyway. “Rarity’s lighting hers with Fancy Pants later tonight. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are probably lighting theirs together back in Ponyville, unless Featherweight finally asked Scoots to share a candle this year.”

“Everyone’s pretty busy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sweetie said. Her mouth felt dry. Her hooves clutched at her glass, the amber liquid swilling inside, though she didn’t raise it to her lips. “I guess so.”

She felt a pressure beneath her chin—a claw. She glanced up.

Spike gazed back. One fang poked over his lip, chewing on a scale. His mouth flickered into something resembling a smile. “I, uh—well, since you don’t have anypony to light a candle with, I was wondering if you might…”

“Might what?”

“Might want to share a candle with me tonight.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened. “I—”

“Unless you have other plans,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way—I mean, it’s probably a bad idea, anyway. You’ve got things to do, and I—”

He paused midsentence. This time, it was Sweetie Belle’s hoof on his lips. She smiled at him, feeling something warm in her chest.

“Shut up, silly,” she said, smile spreading from ear to ear. “I’d love to share a candle with you.”

“You do?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

Spike’s shoulders relaxed, the two wing-nubs on either side visibly drooping. “Oh, good. I mean—that’s great!”

Sweetie giggled. “Then it’s settled. You know the way to the Canterlot Hearth?”

“Puh-lease,” Spike said. “I was born and raised here. One Fire of Friendship coming right up.”

She giggled again, more loudly as Spike stood up and offered her a clawed hand. “Would you like to leave, m’lady?”

Sweetie’s heart stopped.

“Yes,” she said, smiling back. “I think I’d like that.”

The fire of friendship lives in our hearts

As long as it burns we cannot drift apart

Though quarrels arise, their numbers are few

Laughter and singing will see us through (will see us through)

We are a circle of pony friends

A circle of friends we'll be to the very end.

The light of candles lives in our hearts

Each flickering star a new gold piece of art

In time we’ll see, as life spins anew

The eye of the heart will know what is true (will know what’s true)

We hold these candles up to the sky

These candles of life we’ll bring now to light the night.