The day came all too quickly for Spike as he tried to reach out and shield his eyes from the sun. He soon realized that something had anchored his arm to the bed. He looked to his side to see that Twilight was still by his side; she never got up to move back to her own bed after their talk. He was actually slightly surprised, given how close they were he somehow managed to sleep through her snoring.

He rose, grabbing his clothes and changing. There was no time for a shower or for waking Twilight up. He had to speak to Al’Kair about Amira. He had to find him. Fully dressed, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, resisting the urge to run.

He approached the guard by Amira’s room. “Where’s Al’Kair?” he asked, nearly panicking.

“Al’Kair has escorted the Lady Amira to the king’s court,” the guard replied, bringing his polearm to attention, “on a matter of urgent business.”

Spike turned, this time ignoring his restraint and breaking out into a run towards the court. He made it to the entrance of the rounded throneroom and approached the doorway. Swallowing, Spike pushed the doors open and stepped inside. As he did so he found himself running straight into a wall of flesh, he fell fell flat on his ass in a slight daze as to what had just happened. he quickly shook the initial shock off and opened his eyes to see a blade pointed in his direction, just inches away from his face.

“Speak peasant,” the man hissed, bringing his sword closer, “least I cleave your head from your shoulders.”

“A-Al’Kair…” Spike swallowed, looking up to the man. “I’m looking for Al’Kair. Do you know where he is?”

“Don’t ask me such questions!” The man shouted, slapping Spike with the broad end of his sword, “such an act would imply that I answer to you!”

The sting of the slap burned his cheek, but he didn’t break his gaze up at the man. A small flare of anger in his gut made him bolder than his otherwise timid nature normally allowed, along with his frustration of the past few days. “Of course you can’t answer me. Maggots can’t speak,” he growled out defiantly from the ground, still looking up at the man with the sword. Spike was scared, but he did his best to quash his panic into his gut.

“The nerve of this whelp!” he shouted, raising his sword above his head, “I shall show you resp—”

“That’s enough, Hakem,” Al’Kair’s powerful voice said from behind Spike’s potential killer as the man’s forearm become wrapped up in Al’Kair’s massive hand. “Haven’t you already taken enough?”

“That is Prince Hakem to you, lap dog!” he replied, ripping his arm out of Al’Kair’s grasp. “And I suppose you’re right, wasting my energy on this sniveling brat would hardly be worth the effort.”

“I feel the same about you,” Al’Kair growled in response.

“Watch your tongue, old man,” Hakem warned, fearlessly pointing a finger at the giant. “‘Lest you be rendered mute.”

“Just leave,” Al’Kair replied, unthreatened by Hakem’s words. “This palace has had enough of you for one day.”

“As I have had my fill of it,” Hakem huffed, returning his sword to it’s scabbard, “for now.”

Hakem turned away from Al’Kair and began to make his way down the hall, but not before driving a foot into Spike’s chest and slamming him into the ground. “Next we met peasant…” he hissed, twisting his foot on Spike’s chest, “your fortune won’t be so great.”

Spike let out a pained gasp, the man’s boot digging and nearly tearing his shirt from the force. The man twisted his heel, still grinding it into the boy’s shirt. Sweet relief came as Hakem lifted his leg and marched off down the hall. Spike rose, putting a hand to the wall to lift himself easier, and rubbed at his aching chest.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“Are you alright?” Al’Kair asked back, completely ignoring Spike’s question, “Hakem can be rather violent at times.”

“I’m fine. I’ve had worse,” Spike replied. Years of being bullied would do that for you. “Thanks for your help back there.”

“I do what I must,” he said, looking over Spike one last time. “And I’m sure Madam Twilight would be rather crossed with me if I hadn’t taken action, along with the whole of Equestria.”

He gave one more rub at his chest out of irritation, irked that he showed such a weakness in front of Al’Kair, when he was about to ask of him something. Exhaling, he looked up to the giant man. “It’s good you came by for another reason, Al’Kair. I need to talk with you.”

“Oh?” Al’Kair asked, removing his helmet, “what is it you wish to di-”

A presence from the throne room drew their attention. King Amal walked towards them, rubbing his brow wearily.

“Spike,” he addressed with a nod, then glanced at Al’Kair. “Has my son already departed?”

“Yes my king,” Al’Kair agreed, looking down to Spike. “And he almost left with our friend’s head.”

“I see.” The king looked towards Spike and knelt down, prostrating himself before the boy. “Forgive my middle son’s foolishness. I ask for pardon for his actions.”

“S-sure,” Spike said, looking down to the king. “No harm.”

Amal rose, brushing off his clothing. “Some may see him as bull-headed and difficult, but…” The king bridged his hands together. “He remains my son. You’ll understand one day, much as I’m sure Al’Kair understands now, despite their spirits clashing on more than one occasion.”

“Indeed,” Al’Kair nodded in agreement, clenching his fists tightly.

Amal looked at his guard, frowning. “How fairs Lady Amira in regards to…?”

“I wish not to discuss the matter, my king,” Al’Kair said, placing his helmet squarely on his head once more, “but I know she believes what she is doing is right, so who am I to stop her?”

“Amira?” Spike asked, looking between the two, the seeds of panic being put in his belly. “What? What’s she doing?”

“A mistake,” Al’Kair said bluntly, looking to Spike before Amal once more, “and we both know it.”

The king said nothing to this, except gazing down at his hands in thought.

“Al’Kair,” Spike took ahold of the man’s bicep. “Please. What’s Amira doing?”

Al’Kair looked down to Spike once more before taking in a deep breath. “My king would have the better answer for you, Spike,” he breathed out, “after all, he is a far better diplomat than I.”

“My Hakem has watched her from afar for many years,” Amal slowly began. “And he let his affections be known to us late last night when he arrived. He owns the lands farther west of here, where there remain people still loyal to Amira’s blood over Hakem.” A far away look came to his eyes as he spoke, in a sense trying to reason with himself just as much as he was trying to reason with Spike and Al’Kair. “There, in the west, strife still remains because of his lack of bloodright to rule. So for the sake of this country’s peace, I…” His next words sent a chill through Spike’s spine. “I authorized his request for Lady Amira’s hand.”

Spike felt like he was falling.

“You know this has nothing to do with love, Amal,” Al’Kair growled, using the king’s name for the first time in Spike’s presence, “this is a play for power, the west has the most water, the most oil, and the most gold.” Al’Kair then threw his hand to the air, pointing to the room around them. “And if not for Ridedh, it would have the most people! Are you blind to the fact that your own son is plotting to overthrow you?!”

Amal looked at Al’Kair, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. Finally, he sighed, relaxing his hands. “I know my sons heart. What you say cannot be. He simply has a wish to escape my shadow. If he must do that by marking a western province as his own?” Amal shrugged. “Then so be it. Surely you remember an age such as his? I know I do, this is simply a means to be his own man until age blesses him with wisdom and restraint.” The king shook his head. “A son raising his sword against his father? Impossible.”

“I know from experience that it is,” Al’Kair growled looking to the ground in rage.

He balked, looking to his guard with the same surprise someone who accidentally cut their finger on a knife might give. “I… I ask your pardon, old friend. I forgot myself with my words.” He pursed his lips, putting his index fingers to them in thought. “But Hakem is not like that. He has his faults, but he’ll grow out of them into a fine man like my eldest has.” He arched his brows. “Surely you remember the years Amira was difficult? And she blossomed into a beautiful, upstanding woman.”

“Even a weed blossoms,” Al’Kair replied, looking back to the king, “as for your sons, your eldest is indeed a fine heir, and I would gladly serve him if great tragedy struck.” He paused, looking down the hallway. “But I know those eyes…” he hissed, “those eyes hunger for more than the world could give, and he hasn’t lost them since he was a boy.”

Amal stopped at this. He shook his head after a long, silent pause. “He’s not like that. None of my children would ever do as you say,” the king replied quietly, refusing to meet Al’Kair in the eyes.

“I will not deny that your eldest son wouldn’t,” Al’Kair nodded, “nor would your two youngest sons, but Hakem…” He clinched his fist, starring Amal squarely in the eye, “your daughter is more fit to lead this nation than him.”

“Al’Kair.” The king looked at Spike, then back to the towering man. “We shall discuss this matter more in private, if we may. Our guest doesn’t need to see us bickering.”

“As you wish, my king,” Al’Kair nodded, turning to face Spike, “this matter doesn’t concern you Spike, I apologize that you had to see any of it in the first place.”

Before Spike could say anything Al’Kair forcefully pushed the boy out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

“But—” With the door shut, there was no way for the other man to hear, so instead he rubbed at his face. “Amira…” Spike said to himself. His shoulders slumped and his teeth grit as he tried to control his breathing. Tried to control the fire he felt in his chest. Without hesitation, he snapped back around, heading down the hall towards Amira’s room.

Seconds felt like hours to Spike as he rushed down the hallway, tears streaming down his face as his body went as fast as his legs could carry it. Finally he saw a familiar figure standing in front of a door, he tried to pick up his pace even more, but in doing so he realized the folly of him becoming dressed so quickly.

He tripped on his shoelaces and landed face-first on the ground. Spike lay there, humiliated and feeling worthless. His eyes watered; the boy clenched them shut, sucking in a breath through his teeth. He couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t save Amira, couldn’t talk to Al’Kair, couldn’t even tie his shoes. He was a worthless kid with no hopes of ever being able to stand on his own two feet. A part of him thought maybe it’d be better for everyone if he didn’t get up period. He forced that thought away though and weakly rose, rubbing his eyes in disgust at his moment of weakness.

“Sir!” The nearby guard shouted, coming to his aid, “are you harmed?”

“No,” he said. “No, I’m fine.”

“That is excellent news,” the guard sighed in relief, “it would be most unfortunate for Lady Amira’s baggage carrier to be harmed before he completed his task.”

Spike was about to open his mouth to object, but kept silent, nodding.

“I won’t stop you sir,” the guard said, stepping to the side, “but you must make haste, her train heads west in just under two hours.”

“Two hours? But—” Spike shut his protest up and nodded. “Will she be returning to her room beforehand?”

“That is not your place to know boy,” the guard said sternly, “now enough talk, gather the Lady’s bags.”

“As you wish.”

The guard nodded once more before returning to his post, slightly opening the door for Spike as he did so. Practically bolting into the room, Spike stopped in the middle and fell to his knees, driving a fist into the floor.

“Amira,” he choked out her name, as if it would conjure her from the ethers. “Why?”

There was no response, but then again, why would there be? The last twelve hours alone had to have easily been the worst of his short life, and they would probably remain so in the many years he still had left in him. Rising his head for a moment he saw something from out of the corner of his eye. Something oddly familiar to him was placed on the bedside table, right next to where he assumed Amira slept the night before.

Spike took a few cautious steps forward, before reaching to grasp it. It was the small bottle of lavender soap he had got her last night. He sat down on the side of the bed and looked at it, rolling it in his palm as the edges of the bottle caught the light.

He… he wasn’t sure how to feel, holding this. As much as things had changed over the week, the emotional whiplash had left him feeling numb, empty. Amira leaving this behind could easily be seen as a way to leave him behind, yet… there had to be something more to it. Didn’t there?

He didn’t get much time to dwell on the thought, because mere seconds after he took the bottle in his hand the door opened behind him. He spun around, expecting the guard had grown wise to him not being a servant, and was more than ready to beat the living hell out of him. Not that it really mattered to him right now, or anything for that matter. However when his eyes fell on the one who opened the door a small ray of hope seemed to shine through his sorrow.

“S-Spike?” Amira questioned, closing the door behind her. “I thought you’d be—”

“Be what?” he asked, despite his joy at seeing her, he couldn’t help his brows narrowing, or the harsh tone his words carried. “Gone before I could find out what you did?”

Amira stepped back, bracing herself on the door as she took Spike’s words like a punch in the gut. “Spike…” she almost whispered, shaking her head in shame, “what would you have me do?”

He didn’t know. But that didn’t stop him from standing and taking an unsure step towards her. “You could of told me at least. I had to hear it over a conversation between your father and the king. I thought I was going to be sick.” He took another breath. “Were you even going to tell me before I left?”

“The news was just as sudden to me Spike,” Amira sighed, taking a weak step towards Spike, “I didn’t expect to be woken up by my father and told to come to the throne room this morning just so I could meet my new…” she paused, as if even thinking about the word make her sick. “Husband…”

“Y-you rejected other suitors. Why couldn’t you have a say on this one?” Spike asked, the word making him feel sick as well.

“I cannot reject the orders of the king,” Amira replied, clenching her fists in a manner that mirrored Al’Kair to a T, “I am the head of my house, but he is the head of the country.”

“To hell with his rule,” Spike snapped out, sucking in a breath. He stepped forward and put his palms on top of her fist. “Amira. Come with me. Back to Equestria. We can protect you there, you won’t have to go through with this.” Then, selfishly, he added, “And you can be with me.”

“I would be protected yes,” Amira added, pulling her hand away, “but not the tens of thousands of my countrymen, and what makes you think that if I did that now the precious alliance between our two nations would stand?” Amira looked to Spike with disappointment before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t about you, nor me, this is about an entire nation! Would you have me risk that and the countless lives of sons so easily?”

Spike looked up at her. He realized he was soundlessly crying again as he stared at her face. “I love you,” he croaked out, as if that explained everything. He stepped back and sank to the bed, putting his face in his hands. “It’s not… fair.”

“You think it’s fair to me?” she questioned, throwing her arms in the air as tears rolled down her face. “You think I want to marry a power hungry animal who is using me for the sole purpose of overthrowing, if not killing his own father?!”

“What in the hell do you think I mean?” he barked out, putting his palms to his eyes. “You’re having to do that, and I’m here, just, just watching you do it!” Spike realized he had rose again and his hands had formed into fists. Taking in a breath, trying to keep his emotions in check, he exhaled, forcing his hands limp again. “I promised you I’d… I’d take care of you. That it’d be alright.” Spike wearily stared at her. “What am I supposed to say?” the boy questioned, genuinely unsure as he looked to the older woman with a sort of reverent pleading. “Amira. What am I supposed to do here? Tell me. I just,” he grit his teeth, ashamed at his weakness, ashamed at his tears, ashamed at his lack of comforting words. “I’ve failed as a man.”

Amira sighed, letting her head sink low as she approached the devastated young man. When she was within arms reach she wrapped him up as tightly as she could, trying in vain to absorb his grief. It seemed at this one moment, the one that Spike needed to hear comforting words, Amira was left speechless, and the best thing she could do was try to make the pain go away with her embrace.

Spike wordlessly held on to her, sobbing, terrified to let go. He buried his face into her collar, brushing past the pendant she wore on her neck. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright Spike,” she whispered, trying to sooth him. “It’s not your fault.”

Before Spike could reply Amira released her grip from around him. Spike tried to latch back onto her like a lost child would to their parent, but the moment her saw her eyes his hands fell to the bed. They were so sad, but even behind the sadness, a hope still shined through, he could barely wrap his head around it, how could she still have hope when he knew that everything was lost? Spike was so enthralled by the question he had proposed himself that he didnt even notice Amira’s hands slowly going behind her neck to reach for the latch on her necklace.

“Here,” she said, tears in her eyes and a small smile on her face. “Take this.”

He tilted his head, narrowing his brow in confusion as she dropped the jewelry into his palm. “Your pendent?” Spike questioned, looking up at her. “But…”

“It’s called The Desert Rose,” Amira said, using her hand to coax his into wrapping around the gem, “it signifies a woman’s heart…” She stopped looking Spike square in the eye, “Hakem will have my body, there is no way anyone can stop that, but he will never have my heart… that will always belong to you.”

“Your heart is what matters,” Spike quietly said, looking over the woman’s gift. He frowned. “I wish you had something more of mine. All I ever gave you was a thing of soap you didn’t even like the scent of.”

“And yet it is still the greatest gift I ever received,” Amira replied, putting a hand behind his head. “All the gold in Ridedh isn’t worth as much as that soap.”

“All the gold in Equestria isn’t worth as much as you,” he answered, finally, weakly smiling, the expression dying moments after it came. He reached a hand up, putting it to her cheek. “Amira. I wish…” he let the sentence die on his lips, what he wanted obvious.

“And I the same…” Amira said, pulling him in for what could have very well been their last kiss.

He gently shut his eyes, feeling her weight lean down as he rose to attention and met her lips. A warmth, a loving heat, spread from his heart at the action. Spike cupped her cheeks, then felt his hands drift down, wrapping tightly around her back. The boy finally, reluctantly, broke his mouth away to stare up at her.

“I’ll miss you,” Spike quietly said, squeezing her, holding on as if he’d drown if he let go.

“I will too,” Amira repeated as a small tear ran down the side of her face.

The two sat there for what seemed like an eternity before finally releasing one another. Just as the two parted the door opened once again, their heads jolted in the direction of the door, thinking that it would be either Hakem or Al’Kair to fetch her, but fortunately it was nothing more than a scrawny young man, not much taller than Spike, dressed in worn servants clothes.

“I-I’m the second baggage carrier,” he managed to eek out, dumbfounded by the scene in front of him, “I suppose it is a pleasant surprise servants rarely receive additional help in these affairs.”

Spike opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again, looking towards Amira for a moment before turning to the boy and stammering out a weak, nonsensical, “Y-you too...”

“Uh… indeed,” the servant said looking to the ceiling in confusion, “shall we begin? Prince Hakem has ordered that they leave earlier than scheduled, something about sharing the train with ‘Equestrian pig sows’.”

Spike scowled, taking a step forward past Amira. “That son of a b—”

“Spike,” Amira interrupted, placing her hand on his shoulder, “please, not now…”

He reluctantly nodded, cocking a head at some of the filled bags in the room. “Get those,” he said to the baggage carrier. “I’ll be out with the rest in a moment.”

“Of course,” the servant nodded, taking the bags Spike pointed to, “The train leaves for Hoffuf in thirty minutes.”

“We’ll be there.” Sadly, Spike thought, glancing once more to her.

The servant quickly exited the room, leaving the two alone once again. Spike turned to face Amira once more, trying to memorize every last inch of her before he would never see her again.

“If he ever hurts you…” Spike trailed off in a warning tone, shaking his head.

“He already has,” she replied lowering her head.

The boy felt like crying again, but this time was able to push his feelings back. Instead, he reached forward, putting his palm on her chest. Her heart beat squarely against it and he let it thrum against his hand for a long moment. “I’ll be in here,” he said, giving a small, gentle press into her flesh to illustrate his point. “If you ever need me.”

Amira smiled and mirrored the action Spike had done, nodding silently to show that she intended the same for him. A few all too brief seconds passed before the boy bought his hand back to his side.

“I… any more and I won’t be able to...” he bit his lip, stepping back a hair. “I don’t want to stop holding you.”

“I understand,” she nodded, finally rising to her feet, “I doubt I would either.”

He took her pendant and held the chain in his hands, reaching behind him to don it around his own neck. “You’re better with words than I could ever be, so I’ll just leave it at ‘I love you.’” The boy headed towards the door.

“I love you too,” Amira said simply. Spike paused, glancing somberly behind his shoulder, then turned the door’s handle, walking out of her room.