Spike stood outside the amphitheater, leaning his massive head over the bowl of rising seats to see the proceedings. Far below, watched by thousands of ponies, the coveted theater awards were being announced and dispensed. Among those behind the stage, Rarity, preeminent unicorn of fashion, stood waiting. It was... well, it was known that she'd be winning the prize for costume design. Not only was her show, Canterlot Abby, the most popular drama of the year, but it also involved some of the most accurately constructed period costumes seen in the theater circuit.

As the prize for costume was announced, Spike watched with subdued glee, his massive tear ducts threatening to drown the upper boxes if he wasn't careful. Rarity stepped forward, noble as ever, despite her many years and aged state. She put on the most humble of acts as she walked on stage to accept the statuette, thanking all the others involved in the show as one should. As she wrapped up her speech though, and the orchestra began to play her off, she looked up toward the sky, and thanked her "biggest fan," winking at him on the double meaning.

In the decades since he'd first laid eyes on the unicorn, Spike had gone through many phases. The infatuation of the early years still made him blush when he recalled how much he'd literally swooned when Rarity came near. As he grew older though, he eventually moved past that, but his friendship with Rarity only grew closer because of it. When he hit the first of his major growth spurts, and started taking on a fully draconic form, Rarity was there to help him through it as the new feelings he had... the greed, the harshness, the anger and the rage... all the instincts of dragon-kind had welled up within him. This, he knew, was what drove his kind to be so distant and removed from ponies and the other races. Yet for him... Rarity was there, and her firm-yet-kind demeanor had worked in ways that Twilight's books and research never could.

Rarity didn't flinch as other ponies did when he'd lose his temper and roar in frustration. She didn't back down when reminding him he couldn't take what wasn't his. She helped him through those awful years of growth and confusion, and unlike the others of his kind, Spike had remained living with ponies even into his adulthood. He found it much easier to control himself these days. The simple habits Rarity had instilled in him were formative, and let him keep his temper in check. The end result was something ponies had thought impossible, indeed, which had never happened in recorded history. Rarity's generosity and patience had seen him through. It wasn't magic, and yet... He was a fully grown, yet fully civilized dragon.

Lyra

Lyra pressed her nose against the window, staring out at the multitude of city lights as the ground dropped away and the plane rose above the coast. For the most part, the passengers seemed completely nonplussed by her presence, but she'd caught a few odd looks here and there as she'd boarded the flight. She could hardly blame them however. Despite her many years among them, even her own mind sometimes reverted and couldn't help but think of these alien creatures as strange and oh-so-weird. Yet what really stuck out in her mind was that none of them, not even those that seemed most surprised to find a unicorn flying coach, gave even a glimmer of thought to the miracle of the plane itself.

It'd been nearly a decade since the Veil had torn, since this other Earth—the one where talking monkeys had evolved in place of equines—had come to overlay the edges of Equestria. Those monkeys, those... humans... had seemed so strange, and so very, very alien at first. But of all ponies, Lyra was one who believed, at least far more than most, in the old axiom that a stranger is just a friend you're meeting for the first time. She'd quickly found herself enraptured by the new humans, and their world. She'd gone on a pilgrimage of sorts, taking in as many of the sights this new world offered as she could, returning home occasionally to tell friends and family of the wonders she'd seen. It had been some of the best years of her life, and still she felt like she'd barely scratched the surface. Every takeoff was the start of a new adventure, and she'd sworn long ago to never forget the sheer joy of it.

The green unicorn turned in the not-quite-pony-sized seat, leaning against the headrest while continuing to stare out the window, a faint smile crossing her muzzle as the millions of tiny lights all moved beneath her, a human city full of life and industry. As it faded beneath the clouds, she marveled at this weird species that bent metal, fire, and even the air itself to its will, harnessing whirling demons of fire beneath wings of composite aluminum to soar among the clouds. It wasn't magic, and yet... they'd even walked on the face of the moon!

Twilight

Twilight Sparkle stared up at the newly grown crystal... tree? castle? She wasn't quite sure what to call her new home. The tree-like form of it certainly echoed her prior residence of the Golden Oaks library, but it, this new thing, was a castle as well. The library had been strong and stout, but this was... well, "imposing" was the best word she could come up with.

She didn't mind... not really anyway. The old tree was, in a way, a touchstone, and had been close to her heart as such things often are, but when all was said and done, it was just a place. What really mattered—her friends, her family, Spike and Owlowiscious—they'd all escaped the brunt of Tirek's wrath, and that's what really mattered. The keepsakes she'd lost... well, it was sad, but she'd make new memories and have new things to remember them with eventually. The books could be replaced as well, maybe not exactly, but close enough. That was the entire point of libraries after all: to share knowledge. They were a bulwark against the darkness of ignorance, for nothing shared was ever truly lost. It was one of the few things that ran counter to universal entropy. While energy, matter, and the rest were reduced by time, and lessened the further they spread, knowledge gained and grew instead. It was a lot like friendship in that regard. It wasn't magic, and yet... it was!

Author's Notes:

As noted in the description, I originally wrote this for a writeoff contest in September of 2014. That's nearly two years ago now. Why I never published it, I'm not quite sure. I read it again for the first time in at least a year and realized, while far from my best work, it still captures something I haven't been able to put my finger on anywhere else, and figured it deserved to see some daylight. The cover image is a photo I took myself, of the Seattle skyline, which I routinely fly to/from for work, and inspired the Lyra segment of the story.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!