“Where’s Spike?”

Forehooves still over his eyes, Shining Armor asked again, “Where’s Spike?”

Seated beside him, the infant dragon cooed and clapped his talons together.

“Where’s Spike? I don’t see him! Where did he go?” Shining struggled not to giggle. “If I don’t find Spike, who will I give those cookies to? I guess I’ll have to eat them all by myse—”

Spike reached forward and tugged on one of Shining’s forehooves, babbling in delight.

Shining let him win, his left forehoof falling from his eye. With a gasp, he exclaimed, “There’s Spike!” He scooped the young drake up and held him above his head, laughing. “There’s my baby brother!”

Little Spike cooed approvingly, then promptly stuck his tail in his mouth. As he chewed, drool pooled around his lips and the spade of his tail, dripping down on his brother below.

“Spike! C’mon now, that’s gross!” Shining set him down on the floor of his playpen and gently removed the dragon’s tail from his dribbling mouth. It exited with an audible pop, along with several pints worth of drool.

Shining shook his head. “You know, for somepony who breathes fire, you sure seem to make a lot of water!”

Spike started to yawn. Mid-yawn, he sneezed, sending little puffs of smoke and ember everywhere. Shining yelped, but avoided the blast.

“I guess I kind of deserved that.” Shining leaned up against the railing of the playpen with a smile. “Well, we played peek-a-boo. Now what? We have a whole half hour before Twily and Mom come home.”

Eyes wide, Spike stared up at him for a moment before reaching a talon up towards the crib mobile above his playpen. An old toy of Twilight’s that she had quickly—and easily—outgrown, it displayed Equus, the sun, the moon, and various stars. Only the brightest in the sky accompanied the three heavenly bodies. Twilight had easily learned them all long ago, but astronomy wasn’t Shining’s best subject.

Still, Shining grinned and put a forehoof on the mobile. “This? You want to play with this?”

Spike responded by jabbing his talon up towards it again.

“Heh, well, alright. Let’s see…” Shining hummed for a moment, looking around the room. Eyes alight, he went over to the toy box in the corner of Spike’s nursery.

Inside were all manners of toys and games for a foal Spike’s age. Soft teething toys, plastic keys, stuffed animals, coloring books... it was a gold mine of old memories for both the Sparkle foals.

Shining Armor—almost twelve—was not interested in such playthings. Nor was his six-year-old sister. Though he wouldn’t live if down if his classmates knew Shining still secretly loved a few of his favorite toys, though with his little brother, none of that mattered.

“Ah-ha! There it is!” Shining held up a stuffed unicorn in his blue magic. The doll’s coat was as white as Shining’s with a purple mane and a coat of golden armor. He levitated the toy over and held it above Spike. “See Spike? It’s Captain Sparkle, reporting for his space mission!”

Spike, who had been sucking on his tail again, reached both talons up towards the doll. Shining levitated Captain Sparkle down. Spike hugged the doll with a coo, then began to rock it back and forth in his tiny claws.

Ears flattening, Shining looked on with a smile. “Heh, Captain Sparkle sure likes your hugs, huh, Spike?” When Spike continued to rock and hold him, Shining said, “Though, if he keeps hugging you, he can’t go on his space mission! The, uh, North Star will crash into the sun!”

Spike seemed apathetic towards this cosmological crisis, instead rocking Captain Sparkle like his own child. Shining watched as Spike appeared to stop, only to grab a section of his own blanket and wrap it around the doll.

“Or, he’s cold. Yeah! It’s cold out in space. Good thinking, Spike! Get him nice and warm before Celestia sends him out to orbit to save the North Star!”

Shining circled Captain Sparkle in his aura and started to pull him away. “Alright, watch this, Spike. Now Captain Sparkle is—”

Tears welled in the little dragon’s eyes, his lip quivering. He began to gurgle, his talons gripping for a toy that was no longer there.

“Right back in your claws! Yeah!” Shining immediately levitated the doll back down, mentally smacking himself for even daring to take it away. “Heh, sorry, Spike.”

Spike returned to holding and rocking Captain Sparkle as if he had never left, his little smile only marred by more drool. He brought one claw to the doll’s head and patted it, giggling all the while.

“You really like Captain Sparkle, don’t you? Well, that’s okay. You can play with him any way you want, Spike. Just like I did.” Space adventures forgotten, Shining Armor watched on as his little brother played with the doll, holding it, rocking it, wrapping it in his blanket, stroking its mane and fiddling with its armor.

After a few minutes, Shining Armor sighed contentedly. He was a big brother twice over now, and his little brother was just as special as the little sister who had hatched him.

~

“Where’s Spike?”

Shining Armor coughed as he rolled over, the blankets pulled up to his chin. Dark circles hung under his sunken, yellowed, bloodshot eyes. The shine in his mane and coat had long disappeared, replaced by mats. He moved only often enough to avoid bedsores. When he couldn’t, one of his nurses did it for him.

With a bedpan under his sheets and a tray of food on his nightstand, Shining Armor hadn’t left his bed in weeks.

Cadence gently squeezed her husband’s forehoof. “He’s on his way, Shining. Twilight too.”

“... Good.” Shining took a breath, crackling and slow. “I can’t wait to see him.”

Using soft tendrils of magic, Cadence stroked her husband’s mane with a smile. “I know, dear. Don’t worry. He’ll be here.”

Shining knew it was forced, a facade that masked what would be more tears. No, an endless wellspring of sorrow. He knew this, and knew it was because of him, and he was powerless to stop it.

A bloodborne liver disease, long dormant in his veins. Battle had exposed him to the risk. He was now a statistic, a cautionary tale. Too many wounds. Too much blood, both of his own and of his comrades. The same blade that had slain another would slay him.

Not only him, but what was left of his family.

Cadence leaned down to kiss his forehead. Shining tilted his head to look up at his wife, as radiant and perfect as she had been on their wedding day, and smiled.

“Still thinking too much, Shiny,” she whispered. “My worry bear.”

He managed a chuckle. “Worry bear?”

“When I was just a filly and had just come to Canterlot Castle,” Cadence said, “newly ascended and never having seen life beyond my little village, I was full of fear. I worried about anything and everything. What would the other ponies think of me? How would I learn unicorn magic? What if I wasn’t any good at it? Would I be a good Princess? I worried so much that I spent many nights just tossing and turning, unable to sleep and exhausted by dawn.

“One morning, Princess Celestia gave me a teddy bear. She said, ‘This is your worry bear. Tell him all your worries, and he’ll take them for you.’”

“Did it… work?” Shining asked.

“Yes. Until I met you. You were my worry bear, even when I didn’t tell you any of my worries.” Cadence stepped back and cupped his chin with a forehoof.

Shining nuzzled her forehoof with his snout. “I always knew, even when you didn’t.”

Cadence smiled. “I know. But you didn’t have to worry for me.”

“Yes, I did.”

Groaning, Shining lifted his torso up, leaning on his forehooves. Cadence met him in the middle. They shared a soft, simple kiss.

“Anything… for you,” Shining said. “That’s what it always was.”

~

The last notes of the song faded into the night. Twilight set the microphone down to the cheers and applause of the entire wedding party, a bright blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Thanks everypony,” Twilight said with a small wave. Her friends quickly engulfed her in a group hug.

Spike jumped in, laughing as he grabbed ahold of Twilight. “That was awesome! I’ve never heard you sing like that!”

“Oh, Spike, it was nothing!” Twilight chuckled as she hugged him back. “Just a little song I thought would fit the wedding.”

“It sure did, Twily.”

Spike, Twilight, and the others turned to see the bride and groom standing before them, glowing with more than the moonlight.

“Shining!” Spike ran over to him, jumping up to wrap his claws around his brother’s neck.

Shining laughed and returned the embrace. “Hey there, best ring-bearer ever!”

“Aw, it was nothing!” Spike crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk. “If you think that was awesome, just wait until you see what I have planned for the bachelor party!”

Behind him, Twilight and his friends let out a chorus of giggles. Cadence laughed into her forehoof, while Shining offered him what he knew to be a forced chuckle. “What? What’s so funny?” Spike asked, holding out his claws.

“Uh, the bachelor party is for the night before the wedding, Spike.” Shining smiled. “So, it’s a little late. But I appreciate it nonetheless!”

“In fact, Spike, it might have been good that you didn’t throw the party after all.” Cadence grinned and looped a forehoof around her husband’s neck. “Changelings aside, Shining here can get in quite a bit of trouble when he’s… attending bachelor parties.”

“Heh heh, sounds like ma brother,” Applejack chimed in. “Or Rainbow Dash.”

“Pfft, Big Mac’s got nothin’ on me! I’m the queen of attending bachelor parties!” Rainbow Dash puffed out her chest, which evoked an eyeroll and facehoof from Applejack.

Pinkie Pie hopped up and down like an overcaffeinated jackrabbit. “Oooh! Ooh! If you’re the queen, then what does that make me? The jester? I love bachelor parties too! All the cake and the punch and the streamers and the balloons and the stri—”

Twilight shoved a forehoof into Pinkie’s mouth.

Spike looked around the group in confusion, then turned to Shining Armor. “So that’s it? I missed it, so no bachelor party?”

“Afraid not. Maybe I’ll throw you one when you get married.” Shining winked.

Glancing at a particular Cutie Mark Crusader from the corner of his eye, Spike said, “Well… I guess... But!” He lifted a claw. “That means that you will have never had one! Don’t you want one, Shining?”

As Cadence shot him a cheeky grin, Shining raised a forehoof. “Oh no, that’s okay, Spike. I’m not really fond of—bachelor parties, uh—”

“C’mon, Shining!” Spike fell to his knees, his claws clasped together. “Please? Please, please, pleeeeeeeeeease let me throw you a bachelor party?”

Twilight laid a forehoof on Spike’s shoulder. “Spike, Shining already said no.”

“Now hold on a minute, Twily.” Shining tapped his chin. “I… I guess you and I could do something together. Maybe that could be our bachelor party? What do you think, Cady?”

Cadence said, “We really should be getting ready for our honeymoon—”

Spike’s begging intensified, sweat running in rivers down his forehead as he silently petitioned Cadence. Mustering the biggest, watery eyes he could, he stared straight up at her. Like the stallion standing beside her, he could tell that look tore down her defenses almost immediately.

“Welllllll… Alright. Just one night.” Cadence pecked Shining on the cheek. She reached down and stuck her forehoof out to Spike. “Make sure my husband doesn’t get in too much trouble and have him back by sunrise. Deal?”

Spike immediately shook Cadence’s forehoof. “Deal!”

“Alright!” Shining nodded to Spike. “Lead the way, little brother.”

Twilight looked between the two. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?” Shining smiled down at Spike. “Just two brothers going out for a good time!”

“Yeah, Twilight, lighten up!” Rainbow Dash flew over, a mug of cider in forehoof. “Don’t be such a—hic!—spoilsport.”

Fluttershy piped up behind her wineglass, “I, um, think it’s good for them to spend time together. Even if it is after the wedding. I-if that’s okay with everypony.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Twilight sighed, then perked up. “Alright, be careful!”

“We will! C’mon, Shining!” Spike ushered for him to follow. “I know just the place!”

After looking back at Cadence, sharing one last goodbye kiss, and giving Twilight a quick hug, Shining trotted off with Spike.

The two ran off once they hit the lantern-lit streets, hoofsteps and footsteps creating chaos in the perfect night.

~

In that space between Heaven and Earth, miles above ground, Spike clung to Twilight’s mane with all his strength.

Twilight, wings spread to full width, body streamlined, hooves reaching for their destination, flew on as fast as she could. Five years had passed since she had been gifted with flight. In those five years, she had grown from a wobbling flier to a rocket through the skies. No Rainbow Dash, but good enough.

Spike’s claws dug into the mare’s mane, but she didn’t protest. His muscles, however, protested the exertion, his feet going numb as he squeezed them around Twilight’s barrel. The flight from Canterlot to the Crystal Empire was only several hours at Twilight’s speed, but it ached like an eternity.

“How long has it been, Spike?” Twilight shouted over the wind and her own velocity.

“Ummm…” Spike checked the position of the sun. “A little over a half-hour!”

“Alright, we’re almost there! Keep holding on!” Twilight flapped her wings harder, barrelling towards the Empire with all her might.

Sunshine and clear skies accompanied them through their journey. Spring was in full bloom, new life rising and greeting all around them. All was green, bright, and beautiful.

Soon, though, the rain would come. That would be more fitting, Spike thought. A thousand drops would fall from the cloud. No, a million, all of them falling to drown everything that dared to grow.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Spike leaned down with Twilight and held fast as she sliced through the blameless skies.

~

“Here we are!”

Shining Armor swallowed and looked down at Spike, eyebrow raised. “Um… Are you sure this is it?”

“Yup!” Spike smacked the dust from his talons, then adjusted his top hat with a distinguished air. “This is the place! What do you think?”

“Um…”

The Clothesmare declared the sign, its letters painted in a spectrum of vibrant hues. Where the sign suggested fine design and planning, the rather run-down establishment suggested… otherwise. The building was in need of a fresh coat of paint, its windows barred, the sole door messed with graffiti.

Spike exclaimed, “C’mon, Shining! All the guards at your wedding said this was the place for a bachelor party!”

“Guards?” Shining balked. “Wait, who did you ask?”

“Oh, uh, let’s see…” Spike started counting off on his talons. “The First Lieutenant, the Second Lieutenant, three Corporals, five Knights, a bunch of regular ol’ Guards, plus the head chef, the sous chef, the pastry chef, seven wait-ponies, the stallion giving out towels and balloons in the bathroom—”

“Errrrr, right.” Shining grinded his teeth and looked away, blushing. “Uh, well, I appreciate you taking the initiative, but I’m not sure if we should.”

“But why not?” Spike gestured to the door. “It’s right there! And if you listen closely enough…” He held a claw to the side of his head. “You can hear the music pumping! It sounds like a party in there!”

Sure enough, Shining pricked his ears, which were greeted with the pounding of bass and strange sounds that reminded him of Changeling screeches. That may have passed as music to somepony, but Shining was not among them. He had visited a few clubs prior to his romance with Cadence—some of them even seedier than The Clothesmare—but none of them blared such a racket.

Shining sighed, shaking his head. “Look, Spike, I know that you really want to make this a memorable night for me, but… Can we do something else? How about we go to Donut Joe’s?” Offering a smile, he added, “I know it’s your faaaaaaavorite…”

“Oh.” Spike looked down at his feet. “Okay, sure.”

“Aw, c’mon.” Shining laid a forehoof on his shoulder. “Don’t be like that. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” Spike sighed. “I’ve been going to Donut Joe’s ever since I could remember. I want to do something else, Shining. I’m getting older, and—”

“Trust me, Spike. You don’t want to grow up as much as you think you do.”

Spike balled his claws into fists. “Why not?”

“Being a grown up is hard, Spike. There’s a lot of responsibility, and—”

“At least ponies don’t treat you like a baby!” Spike shouted.

Taken aback, Shining raised a forehoof, but Spike continued, “When you’re all grown-up, ponies don’t ignore you, or… o-or mess with your feelings!” Steam billowed from his nostrils, a faint hint of green embers glowing in his mouth. “Ponies don’t t-tell you that you’re going to be small forever, or laugh when you try to be brave, or tell you they don’t know if you’ll ever—”

Shining leaned down and put his forehooves on Spike’s shoulders, moving his forehead down to rest against his. “Hey, Spike, take a breath. What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” The tears welling in Spike’s eyes told the truth for him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Spike closed his eyes.

Shining sighed. “I’m sorry, little bro—”

“I’m… not… little…”

“You’ll always be little to me. I’m your older brother. That’s what I’m supposed to think.” Shining frowned. “But I’m sorry, Spike. I don’t mean to treat you like a child. I just… I want to protect you, alright? And what’s in here—” Shining pointed to the ramshackle building—”well, I’m not sure if you’re ready for it.”

Sniffles followed the silence, one after another, until Spike finally nodded. “Y-yeah… I know.”

Shining released his grip on him. “What do you mean, you know?”

“It’s… It’s a dress club. Where…” Spike blushed. “Where mares put on clothes and then dance around so stallions will give them money.”

The tips of Shining’s ears burned, along with the rest of his face. “Ohhh… Well… Um… Who told you that?”

“I’m not stupid.” Spike’s tone was biting. “I’ve grown up around a mare who loves books. I live in a library. I’ve worked in one with Twilight for much longer than that.”

Shining fought the urge to sigh again. How he could have been so oblivious? More so, how could he have been so patronizing? Spike was his little brother, but he wasn’t so little anymore, if only chronologically. Spike was almost fifteen now—well over the age that Shining himself had first learned about sex. Perhaps a dress club was going too far, but…

“Let’s just go get some donuts. Better than nothing, right?” Spike gave a weak chuckle. He turned away and wiped a claw at his eyes. “Sorry for the outburst. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

Shaking his head, Shining wrapped a forehoof around his shoulders. “You didn’t. And hey, you know what?”

Spike looked up at him. “What?”

Taking a deep breath, Shining made a mental calculation of the consequences—all the way up to facing a very disappointed and angry Cadence and Twilight—and then made his decision. “In a few years, we can come back to a place like this. Not this place, though… It looks kinda shady, to be honest.”

“Oh... Okay.” Spike looked down again.

“But…” Shining’s smile grew wide. “Tonight, how about you and me go to that special restaurant? You know, the one that serves gems on the menu? We can get some food to go, then head down to the lake for some guy talk?”

“... Guy talk?”

“You know! Growing up, changes, crushes, all that. You can ask me anything you want. Even the embarrassing stuff.” Shining coughed. “Anything.”

A moment passed. Then another.

And then, Spike, smiling at last, said, “I would really like that, Shining.”

~

When Twilight had first learned how to fly, the hardest part had been the landing. It was always the landing, pegasi said. Taking off, hovering, gliding, soaring? Foal’s play next to the landing. Spike was all too aware of this, as he had experienced it first-hoof as Twilight’s frequent passenger.

Today, Twilight stuck her landing. Her hooves came to a light stop as she and Spike reached the front gates of the Crystal Palace. He dismounted, brushing debris from his scales that had accumulated from the flight.

The two Crystal stallions who guarded the gates bowed. “Good afternoon, Princess Twilight, Sir Spike,” the larger one said.

“Good afternoon. I am here to see my brother and Cadence.” Twilight’s tone was steady, her words clear and concise. Beneath them simmered many nights of weeping, of pouring through book after book, of arguing with doctor after doctor. Spike heard this even when he didn’t, and it only made his own silence heavier.

The two guards stood up and smacked their staves against the crystalline ground. The gate before them opened with a clink.

“Thank you, sirs.” Without another word, Twilight hurried inside, Spike behind.

A simple elevator, powered by magic, had been installed within each entrance to the Palace. The winding stairs were still an option, but Shining hadn’t the strength in the last few months to use them.

The past few weeks, Spike knew he hadn’t even the strength to even use the elevator. It seemed like a profound waste in more ways than one.

Twilight stepped into the elevator, then waited for Spike. An attendant soon joined them—a young unicorn stallion. His mane was two-tone, his coat a uniform silver.

“Royal quarters, please,” Twilight said.

“Right away, Your Highness.” The attendant lit his horn.

Spike leaned against the corner and looked away from both of them, his mind buzzing.

Memories of the great battle against Sombra flooded his thoughts. The eternal winter,the traumatized citizens,how Shining Armor had gone into the great white to face the Shadow King himself, Cadence’s exhaustion as she kept the shield going as long as she could until the monster himself began to pierce through the barrier like a virus through an immune system…

“Something wrong, Spike?” Twilight frowned down at him.

Spike twiddled his claws. “Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. How long does this damn elevator take?!” Spike glared at the attendant.

Twilight gasped. “Spike!”

“W-we’re almost there, Sir Spike,” the attendant said, his ears pinned back.

Spike sighed. “Sorry.” Twilight continued to glare. “To both of you.”

Twilight reached out with a wing, her feathers brushing against his scales. Spike turned away, counting the seconds as they ascended further, up, up, up.

~

Splash… Splash… Sploosh…

“Alright!” Spike cheered and pumped his talon. “That one almost made it to the log!”

“Nice throw!” Shining Armor raised his forehoof, which Spike bumped with his fist.

“Now, watch this one…” With a wicked grin, Shining picked up a smooth, flat rock with his forehoof, then tossed it up and down. He caught it perfectly each time, the stone balancing on his forehoof, before he suddenly drew back and hurled it forward.

The stone skipped a straight diagonal across the surface of the lake, then struck the submerged log in the middle.

“Alright, Shining!” Spike whistled, stretching a fist up.

Shining bumped his fist again. “Told you I could do it. You owe me a cashew!”

Spike grumbled, then selected one of the nuts and passed it over. “Yeah, yeah…”

Shining popped it into his mouth and chewed with audible delight. “Ohhh, Celestia, I love nuts.”

Silence.

Then, Spike fell to the ground, erupting into laughter. “Bahahahahahahaha!”

Shining turned as scarlet as his outfit. “Hey! You know what I mean!”

“Pffffffffffffffft! Y-yeah, Shining!” Spike howled, rolling on the grass. “Y-you like putting my nuts in your mouth!”

Shining face-hoofed, then made a noise similar to a dying moose. Spike thought he heard him say something along the lines of, “Dear Galaxia, give me strength…”

Still laughing, Spike rolled over to look up at him. “Aww—haha!—come—hehehe!—on, Shining! That one was good! And—kekeke!—besides, I can’t exactly joke around with—pffft!—Twilight like that!”

Shining sat on his haunches. “Yeah, I guess you have a point there. Would have laughed if I hadn’t heard that one a hundred times before. I tend to walk into these kinds of things.”

Once he had calmed down, Spike gave one more laugh. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The two fell quiet for a few moments, Spike on his back and Shining on his haunches, looking up at the same sky. Princess Luna had crafted a masterpiece upon her canvas, a gift to the newlyweds. Stars that Spike had never seen before dotted the sky in swirls of distant galaxies. He knew the major ones: Alpha Centauri, Proxima Centauri, Polaris, Sirius, and the like. One of his oldest memories had been that of a mobile featuring the sun, moon, Equus, and the major stars.

That memory included Shining, mostly just a blur of white and two-tone blue. What the memory lacked in details, it more than made up for in sentiment. Spike remembered feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling protected and wanted.

Spike had felt that way, and still felt that way, with Night Light, Twilight Velvet, Princess Celestia, Princess Cadence, and Twilight, too, but with Shining Armor, it was… different.

“Awfully quiet over there.” The grass rustled as Shining turned to him. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Memories,” Spike said quietly, his ever-hot breath becoming mist in the night.

“Memories of what?”

“Of… you, really.”

Shining tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Spike folded his claws behind his head. “Do you know what my first memory is?”

“What?”

“It’s of you and my mobile, when I was in my crib.”

Shining smiled. “You loved that mobile. But you loved Captain Sparkle more.”

“... Captain Sparkle?”

“My old Royal Guard doll.”

“... Oh? A doll?”

“Yeah.” A quiet thud punctuated Shining’s reply as he laid out on his back beside Spike. “You really liked him. The first time I showed him to you, you wouldn’t stop cuddling him, rocking him, all that. It was…” He laughed. “Well, kind of adorable, to be honest.”

Spike’s cheeks grew hot. “Yeah… I bet.”

“Not that it’s a bad thing. You were a baby, after all.”

“Heh… yeah.”

Shining propped himself up with a forehoof and turned to him. “Hay, it wouldn’t have been bad if you had played with him when you’re older. Nothing wrong with a colt playing with dolls.”

“Yeah… Nothing masculine about it either,” Spike mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

Shining paused, then clicked his tongue. “You know, Dad always told me that when somepony says ‘Nothing,’ it’s always a whole lotta something.”

Spike crossed his claws over his chest. “I said…” He huffed. “There’s nothing masculine about it.”

“What, playing with dolls?”

Spike stiffly nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

“Says who?”

Spike scoffed.

“No, I’m serious,” Shining said. “Whoever told you that was bad?”

Spike’s hardened expression chipped away, if only for a second. “Well… nopony, I guess. But, c’mon, Shining. You of all ponies can’t be acting like you don’t understand what I mean.”

“What do you—”

“Captain of the Guard, marrying a Princess, special talent is shield magic, the works!” Spike threw up his claws and groaned. “You’re the epit… E-pit… E-pit-tomb…”

“Epitome?”

“Yeah, that.” Rolling over to face him, Spike continued, “You’re the… epitome of masculinity, Shining. Every colt wants to be like you. Every stallion envies you. You’re strong, brave, and nopony stands in your way. Nopony would make fun of you or try to hurt you.”

Shining winced. “Nopony but a Changeling Queen, huh?”

Spike twiddled his talons together. “Uh… Y-yeah, I guess.”

“Spike, I’m going to tell you something,” Shining replied after a moment, his deep voice growing quiet. “I’m going to tell you this now, and I hope you never forget it.”

The wind swept between them before Spike stopped his fidgeting and met his brother’s gaze.

“Spike, I’ve always known you were a little… different. Maybe it’s because you’re a dragon. Maybe it’s because Twilight hatched you. Or maybe it’s just because you’re you. I don’t know. But what I do know is that you’re very special. Not just to me, but to lots of ponies.”

A silence passed, Shining seeming to want it to sink in, before Spike nodded. “Well, thanks, Shining, but… That’s really not what I’m worried about.”

“I know. I was wanting to get that part down before I continued.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Now…” Shining cleared his throat. “You mean a lot to me, Spike. To Twilight, to Mom and Dad, to your friends, Princess Celestia, even Cadence. Hay, Princess Luna’s spoken highly of you since Nightmare Night, too. So, don’t go comparing yourself to others, even stallions like me. All that matters in this life is that you love and take care of those who love and take care of you, and you do.”

“But how can I?” Spike lifted his puny claws to the stallion’s eyes. “Look at these, Shining.” He gestured to himself. “Look at me. I’m… I’m a shrimp—”

“No—”

“Yes, I am! I’m the same height as you were in my memories, and that was almost fifteen years ago. I haven’t grown a single inch in five years, Shining. I don’t know when I will be as big as the dragons I met during the Dragon Migration. My fire is more useful for sending letters than attacking, my roar makes ponies laugh, and the girls all see me as one of them.” A blush tinged his cheeks at his last words. Spike shook his head. “I’m… I’m not even like the colts in Ponyville. I tried hanging out with them, but we have almost nothing in common! Sure, some of them like hoofball cards, but they want to wrestle and roll in the mud and roughhouse, and I… I like baking and helping Twilight stay organized. I’m just…

“I’m just a sissy,” Spike said with a sigh.

“Hey!” Shining barked. “Don’t you ever call yourself something like that again, Spike!”

Spike flinched, but didn’t back away, raising his palms in submission. “Uh, okay, so—”

“Don’t apologize, Spike.” Shining sighed. “I’m not mad at you. I’m… Well, I’m sad. I’m sad that you think of yourself this way. You’re just as masculine as me in my eyes.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “You’re… you’re kidding, right?”

“No, Spike. Because of you, Twilight at least had some social skills before she went to Ponyville. Because of you, she didn’t destroy Ponyville over an enchanted doll. Those may be small things, but they matter, and because of them, I’m not worried about her.

“Because I know you’ve always cared for Twilight and been by her side, and I know nothing is going to change that. No matter what happens, you’ll be there for her. For all of them. For all of us. You may think you have only done small things now, but as time goes on, as you get older, wiser, you’ll do even more.

“Trust me, Spike. I command thousands of stallions. I know dedication when I see it. I know courage when I see it. I know love when I see it. You have all of these things and more. Playing with dolls, baking, or being small does not and will not change that. Ever.”

As Shining finished his speech, Spike felt tears spring to his eyes again. This time, he didn’t hide them, letting them gleam as he looked upon the stallion he loved more than ever in this moment.

“Sh-Shining?” Spike said at last.

“Yeah, Spike?”

Shining grunted as Spike launched himself at him, squeezing him into a hug.

“I love you…”

Shining smiled and nuzzled Spike’s cheek with his. “I love you, too, little brother.”

~

Shining’s dreams were black and void. Everything he had wanted had come true long ago. Dreams were no refuge, but they had no need to be. Captain of the Royal Guard, Prince of the Crystal Empire, wife the Princess of Love, his sister the Princess of Friendship, his brother the Savior of the Crystal Empire…

The only thing missing was children.

The disease had come just as Shining and Cadence were planning their family, and with it came a double-edged sword. Not only did it wear away at him, but it stole away any hope of intimacy with his wife, lest, she, too, suffer and pass it to their foal.

Shining had made peace with that, though not easily. After all, it was Cadence who was immortal, who might hope for better days and love and foals once more. But he had long ago learned not to dwell too much on the inevitable.

In his dreamless dreams, Shining rested after Cadence kissed him goodnight. He woke at the sound of the door opening, prompting him to rub his aching eyes and gather the strength needed to face the door.

“Shiny…”

Shining struggled, but made the smile. “Hey, Twily.”

Twilight trotted over, looking every bit as regal as Cadence, Celestia, or Luna. Where she had once stumbled in her slippers, her crown hanging over her eyes and her wings a mismatched mess, she was now elegant and poised. She was truly a Princess now.

“How are you feeling?” Twilight asked.

Shining knew that she knew the answer, but answered anyway. “Alright. Painkillers… are a gift from Galaxia herself.” He cracked a chuckle.

Twilight sat down beside his bed. “Heh, yeah. Those Canterlot scientists can do all kinds of wonders now.”

“Mmhmm.”

But not hepatitis, passed, unspoken, between them. Shining thought of saying it as a joke, but he didn’t want to see his sister cry again. He had had enough of that, and knew she had, too.

“I brought you a present.” Twilight levitated her saddlebags off her back, then fished for something within. She pulled it out, then passed it to him.

Forehoof trembling, Shining accepted it. A photograph. Specifically, one of himself, Twilight, and Spike, having a tea party with some of the filly’s stuffed animals. Spike and Shining both wore bonnets, while Twilight had a flower tucked in her mane.

“Heh, I remember this… You had just started… Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns.” Shining smiled at his tweenage self. “And I… I had just started puberty. That was a… great time for Mom and Dad.”

Twilight painted a smile. “Ye-yeah. Sure was.”

In one of Galaxia’s few mercies, Shining’s parents would not have to bury their son. He had buried them a few years ago instead.

Shining set the photograph on the nightstand. “Thanks, Twilight. Really… appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Shiny. You still aren’t using magic?”

“Hurts too much.” Shining coughed and rubbed his snout. “Takes a lot... of energy. Besides… I’d rather… feel things with my hooves, anyway. Like…” He reached for a forehoof, a smile on his face and a question in his eyes.

Moving closer to his side, Twilight accepted his forehoof, holding it tight with hers.

To his surprise, his chatterbox of a sister stayed quiet for a while, occasionally nuzzling his cheek or snout with her own.

Then, Twilight said, “Spike is here.”

“Oh… Good…” Shining visibly brightened. “I’ve been looking forward to… seeing him. Is he outside?”

“In the hallway, with Cadence. Do you want me to send him in?”

Shining slightly shook his head. “Only when... you’re ready, Twily.”

“I…” Twilight pulled her forehoof away. “I think I should let him, since… I’ve been spending much more time here, and…”

“I understand. Go ahead…”

~

From one end of the hallway to the other, Spike paced. If this had been the old Golden Oak Library, he would have dug trenches into the floor by now.

A lifetime of memories whirled through his head like a tornado. Shining and the mobile, Spike and his crib. The Canterlot Wedding. The “bachelor party”. Shining’s speech under the stars. The return of the Crystal Empire. Twilight’s coronation. Tirek. And everything in between…

Shining Armor, his older brother, the first pony he ever remembered knowing and seeing. He didn’t remember when Twilight hatched him. He didn’t remember when Celestia rocked him to sleep. He didn’t remember when Night Light and Twilight Velvet brought him to his new home.

No, he remembered Shining Armor, and he was dying. If dragons really were as immortal as Zecora, Twilight, and Celestia had told him, soon enough, that memory would die, too.

And then there would be nothing.

Cadence waited in the hallway with Spike, saying nothing as he paced, only watching him with eyes full of concern and sorrow. He had managed to hold a simple conversation at first, but forced himself into silence shortly after.

He would not cry. No. Not in front of her. Not in front of Twilight.

And especially not in front of Shining.

I won’t cry, Spike repeated to himself, balling his claws into fists so hard that he nearly pierced his own scales. I won’t. I won’t cry. I can’t.

I can’t—

The door to Shining’s room creaked open. Both Spike and Cadence turned towards the noise. Twilight emerged from the door, her expression blank.

“Spike, Shining wants to see you.”

Spike’s heart froze and fell into his stomach, sending chills through his nerves and turning his poor decision of breakfast to mush. He coughed so hard that he almost threw up from the sheer force. Stomach churning, he took a deep breath, only to cough again, waves of nausea crashing him against the rocks.

Both Cadence and Twilight joined his side. Cadence laid a forehoof down on his shoulder. “Spike, are you alright? Do you need some water?”

“N-n-n—ack!—n-no,” Spike choked between another cough and deep, heaving breaths. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to calm. Puking would be even worse than weeping—even more weak.

After a minute, Spike stole another breath. With all the resolve, courage, and stoicism he could collect, he said, “Okay. I’m ready.”

Both mares exchanged a glance. Cadence nodded.

Twilight moved towards him, but Cadence shook her head.

Spike gave them the most transparent of smiles, then went to the door. He stood up on tiptoe to reach the knob, and opened it himself, magic or hooves be damned.

Quiet as a mouse, Spike slipped inside, then closed the door.

“Hey, little brother.”

It was all Spike could do to extinguish the gasp that rose in his throat. He knew Shining Armor was doing poorly, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

The stallion in the bed was a shell of his former self. Pale as a ghost, he laid on his side, a mess of monitors, IVs, and fluids attached to him. The mane he had once taken great pride in, always military trimmed and tamed, was a frazzled mess of fading colors. His eyes glowed yellow with jaundice, red with exhaustion and intoxication. The room smelled of bodily fluids and the clutches of Death—the Reaper waiting in the corner with an empty ribcage and a bucket of popcorn.

Spike froze. His heart beat wildly against his ribs, adrenaline flooding. Fight or flight.

Fight whom? What? He was no scientist, no doctor, no mage. He had no cure, and neither did they. They had given up on Shining Armor, condemned him to die at home, waiting for the inevitable.

That left flight. And flight he wanted. To see the stallion who had played with him in his crib, who had comforted him when he had nightmares, who had taught him life lessons and treated him like a true brother, like this…

“Spike?”

Shining’s voice, as feeble as an old stallion’s, pulled Spike from his reverie.

No. You need to do this. You can do this.

Slow, steady, one foot in front of the other, he made it to Shining’s bedside.

“... H-hay.”

“Hay, yourself.” Shining laughed.

Shining laughed? Shining was laughing at a time like this?

Shining opened his forehooves to him. Spike noted how they trembled with each movement. “C’mere. Gimme a hug.”

“O-okay…” As if handling glass, Spike gradually wrapped his claws around Shining’s torso. Bear hugs were a thing of the past. He took care not to squeeze him. He mentally kicked himself for not filing his claws, hoping he didn’t scratch him.

Shining held on to him for a long while, his forehoof running up and down Spike’s back. “I’m so… happy you came, Spike. I’ve… been missing you. You… weren’t in Ponyville when I came to visit…”

The stallion’s breaths were slow, near ragged. The pauses between words were so uncharacteristic it sent ice through Spike’s veins. “Yeah… I’m… I’m sorry, Shining…”

“You weren’t… With Twilight, either. The first time… or the second… third… fourth…”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. For Shining’s sake, don’t cry!

Shining continued to stroke his back, his forehoof shaking further now. “I… I know it’s… hard, Spike. It was hard with… Mom and Dad, too. You remember…?”

“Y-yes…”

Night Light and Twilight Velvet had gone into that dark night a few years ago, sudden and unexpected. There had been no tests, no hospitalizations, no doctors furrowing their brows and delivering news like they pretended to care. There had been no prognosis, no diagnosis, no offers of hospice and morphine, no Last Will and Testament, no ticking sand in the hourglass. They had been alive one day and dead the next.

They were not this shell hugging him, whispering to him, fading away as much as the stars did on the night of the wedding as twilight turned to dawn.

“I get it, Spike… And I’m… not mad at all.”

Finally, Spike looked up at him. His vision blurred. “You’re—you’re not?”

“No.” Shining smiled. “Why… should I be? You’re here… with me… now.”

Don’t—

Spike turned away, sniffling, breathing deep. He balled his claws into fists again, letting his talons scrape pain against his palms. Breathe in, breathe out. Fight the tears, wrestle them down, be a stallion…

“Hey... Look at me.”

Don’t.

Spike sniffled, long and wet. The tears were rising, but he refused to let them shine. “I… I can’t…”

Silence.

“... Please…”

Spike made the biggest mistake of his life. He turned around.

Shining Armor was looking at him, his eyes brimming—not with tears, but with hope. His forehooves were open again, ushering him back without a word.

Don’t, Spike echoed again, but it was useless.

Like an infant in a crib denied his doll, like a child unsure of who he was, Spike rushed into Shining’s forehooves and began to sob.

Those strong forehooves ran over his back over and over again. The room filled with high-pitched, ear-splitting howls and shrieks as Spike finally succumbed to his grief.

“It’s not fair!” Spike shouted through the sobs, clinging to Shining. “It’s not—it’s not bucking fair!”

Spike waited for Shining to scold him, but he didn’t.

“Your—you’re n-not even f-forty! Y-your story isn’t supposed to end! Not like this! I-I-I…”

Shining’s grip tightened around him. Spike laid his head against the stallion’s chest, his heart thumping only half as steady as it should. “I—I—I’m sorry, Shining…”

“For what?” Shining whispered.

“F-for... “ Spike started to hyperventilate, calmed only when Shining shushed him and rubbed his back again. “F-for a-a-avoiding you… I just… I can’t… I don’t want to believe it! I don’t! I can’t!”

“I know. I… I can’t either.”

Spike gasped for breath. “I… I w-wish I hadn’t been so s-scared… So… In denial… I… I s-should have spent more time with you… Not just n-now, but b-before… I’m sorry for swearing, and… f-for crying.”

Shining stopped comforting him, pulling away from Spike.

“Sh-Shining?”

“Spike...” Shining met his eyes. “It’s okay to cry.”

Spike wiped his tears with his thumb. “N-no it isn’t.”

“Why?”

“B-because! I’m supposed to be strong, remember? I-I can’t be… falling apart like this!”

Spike heard himself almost yell again and flushed deeply. He fidgeted with his claws, looking all around the room, anywhere but at Shining.

A stinging silence passed.

“Spike,” Shining Armor said at last, “when I said… those things to you… during our…” He smirked. “‘Bachelor party’... I didn’t mean to make you think... that you could… never cry, never show emotion. I’m sorry if that’s what… you got from it.” His muzzle fell, guilt evident in his eyes.

Spike flinched. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“What I meant was… you’re all the stallion that I am, Spike. Species, age, size… it doesn’t matter. You’re… just as strong as I am. And you know… what else?”

Shining coughed for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Being strong… is not about being stoic. To be brave… doesn’t mean you’re never scared. I’m… scared, Spike. I’m scared.

“I’m dying… and I’ll most likely… never see my wife or sister again…. even in the afterlife. Or maybe, even…. my little brother…”

Spike, almost twenty-two years old and still the same size as he was at eleven, wished a blade had sliced through his heart. It would have wounded him less.

Shining Armor’s wise, pained eyes brimmed with tears. “It's okay to be scared… It’s okay to be hurt… It’s okay to cry. The strongest… stallions I ever knew… they wore their hearts... on their sleeves. They were open…They loved… they lost… they loved again. They shared… they dared… they changed… let themselves change. So, don’t worry, Spike… It’s okay to cry. If you can’t… that’s okay, too. Just… don’t hide your feelings. It only hurts more… in the end.”

Spike let Shining’s words echo through his ears while the stallion reached over for a cup of water. He drank and set the glass down, waiting, until Spike spoke up again.

“I’m a dragon, Shining. I’m supposed to be fearsome. I’m supposed to fight monsters. But I’m not and I don’t. How can you say I’m as strong as you?”

Shining Armor smiled. “Twilight’s stubbornness always… rubbed off on you. Needing… the same lesson, twice. Alright…” He paused. “Being a stallion is not about size… It’s not about combat… It’s not about being fearsome, or… scaring off monsters. A stallion is... somepony who cares for his family… who does… the most he can to protect them. Who loves them… and stands by them… and does all he can. Tirek… Got to me easily, heh. I couldn’t stop… Sombra from getting to… my kingdom. Chrysalis replaced Cadence and… used me against my own family. Do you think any of that… makes me less of a stallion?”

Spike shook his head.

“Then you being small, or liking pink… whatever… it means nothing, Spike. You’re you. You’re a male… I’m a male… And we’re both the stallions of our families.”

Shining Armor reached his forehoof to Spike, who took it in both of his claws.

“Promise me something…”

Spike tightened his grip on his forehoof. “Anything.”

Spike’s vision blurred again. This time, he didn’t fight it, and let it come. Let his wounds open at last, as Shining’s story neared its final pages.

“When I’m gone… Take care of Twilight… And Cadence… And help with… the Empire. The citizens… they love you, too, Spike.”

“I—”

“Promise me,” Shining said, loud and steady.

“I…”

Spike met Shining’s eyes, looked into the soul of his first memory, his brother, and the stallion who had shaped him more than any other had, and shook his forehoof.

“I promise.”

Shining Armor returned the hoofshake. “Thank you… brother.”

No longer little, Spike replied, “You’re welcome, brother.”

As they pulled away, there was a new understanding between them, and they both smiled.

Then, Spike let loose the anvil that had weighed down his thoughts long before his arrival. “Shining… There’s something I need to tell you.”

At Shining’s nod, Spike took a deep breath, and began.

“You’ve been such a big part of my life. You’ve always been there to play with me, or comfort me, or take care of me when I’m sick, or give me advice. The night of the wedding, our little party… That was everything to me, Shining. And even though we drifted apart when you went into the Royal Guard and I was living with Twilight, first at Canterlot Castle, then in Ponyville, I never forgot about you. I’m sorry I didn’t write more, visit more.”

Shining sighed. “I’m sorry… for that too. You, me, Twilight… We were just doing… our own things.”

“Y-yeah… But… What I’m getting at, Shining, is that you are so important to me… And I didn’t tell it to you enough.” Though his voice began to waver, his claws shaking, Spike pressed on. “I didn’t tell you that I loved you enough, or called you brother enough…”

“But… you have now.” With a smile, Shining said, “The story isn’t over yet.”

Slowly, Spike returned the smile. “You’re… you’re right. It’s not over yet. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I love you, brother, and I’m sorry I didn’t show it enough.”

Forehooves wrapped him up and held him tight. “Apology… long accepted.”

Spike wanted to say, ”Thank you,” but found the words far insufficient. Instead, he returned the gesture, until Shining pulled away.

“So… Any… special someponies in your life?”

“W-well…” With a blush, Spike raised a claw. “There is one pony…”

“Oh? … Who?”

Spike found himself unable to look his cheeky brother in his eager eye. “Sh-she’s… Um… She’s… My age… Really pretty… An amazing singer…”

Shining gave a weak chuckle. “Sounds... wonderful. Go get ‘er, brother.”

“Hehehe, well, I haven’t exactly told her how I feel—”

“Then tell her.”

Spike flinched. “Easier said—”

“I know.” Shining coughed. “That’s why… you should just get it… over with. Like... I did with Cadence.”

“Oh, you mean I should shout in her face, ‘Will you go out with me?!’” Spike guffawed.

Snorting, Shining shook his head. “Alright, maybe... not like… I did with Cadence.”

They shared a chuckle.

Just as they settled down, Shining groaned and rolled onto his back. “Can you… get a nurse? I need some… more meds, I think…”

“Of course. Be right back.” Spike started for the door, only to stop when he heard Shining call out to him.

“Spike…”

Spike turned around. “Yes, Shining?”

“Thank you again… for coming. I love you.”

Despite everything, Shining Armor, his brother, shone through, radiant as ever.

With all his heart, Spike said, “I love you too, Shining.”

Spike closed the door behind him.

The hallway was empty. Spike quickly set off in search of a nurse.

Along the way, he thought of an old song in their ancient tongue—a vuelie—the Crystal Ponies had sang on the day of their freedom:

Your love binds us all…

Spike nearly jumped in joy as it struck him.

Shining’s story would never truly end. To end it would be to erase his love—for his brother, his sister, his wife, his kingdom, his country—an impossible task. As long as Spike lived, he would add to Shining’s story, and so would everypony who had the privilege of knowing him.

Spike knew not how long he would live, but he vowed to keep his promises. Every promise.

The story is not over yet. I’ll keep writing it with you, Shining, as much as I can.

And when you can’t hold the quill anymore, I’ll pick it up for you.