//------------------------------//
// Foolish Mistakes and Painful Regrets 
// Story: A Piece of Unwritten History 
// by Of No Importance 
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Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Nine Thousand, and Ninety-Four

Another successful stroke of his quill, and the sentence was completed; the next one was already fresh in the dragon's mind as he pressed the edge to the pages once more.

Fourteen days since the last dragon encounter.
Two hundred and five thousand, eight hundred and seventy-four days since the last visit by Princess Celestia.
Fifty-two thousand days since the last pony sighting.

Had it really been over half a millennia since he had spoken to his confidant? Five hundred years, and not a single word to the one pony who understood how he felt? Well, technically speaking, she didn't know how he felt. In her thousands of years of life, never once had she been isolated, never once had she been forced to fight and kill her own kind. A familiar fire was ignited within Spike's belly, and he remembered exactly why he hadn't spoken or written to Celestia; she didn't understand, and she never would. 

Day Eighty-Three thousand, Two Hundred and Twenty

Spike awoke with a smile on his face; not because it was his two hundred and twenty-eighth anniversary of his duty, no, that was the opposite of joyful. Spike was instead happy because it was the best day of every year: the day that Princess Celestia came to visit him.  The Princess had made the drake a promise all those years ago, when he first became the guardian of Ponyville, that she would visit him every year, and not once had Celestia broken her word. Usually, their conversations would consist solely of the recent happenings of Ponyville and the rest of Equestria; Spike would ask countless questions of the alicorn, inquiring about every detail. This was mainly due to the nature of the dragon's isolation, and his thirst for any sort of assurance that it was all worth it if the ponies of Ponyville were thriving under his protective eye, but there was also a much more ulterior motive behind Spike's domination of the conversation. Spike didn't want to tell Celestia about what he had done for all these years, he didn't want to tell her that the young, gentle drake she had sent into the mountains had become a vile, violent killer. No, Spike wanted to pretend that everything was normal, that he was normal, for just one day. That was why it was the best day of the year. 

The first year, it had taken all of the dragon's quickly decaying strength not to break down at the Princess' hooves; he wanted, desperately, to let her know the pain he was going through. The uncountable nights he had awoken in tears to a dark, dank cave; the constant nightmares where he watched from the outside as a purple beast tore through waves upon waves of innocents, bathing the world in blood; the days that he couldn't bear to do anything, where food had no appeal, and his shaking claws made writing impossible. The first year, the choice was clear that Spike would never tell Celestia about what he had done; the anniversary of his duty had been set aside permanently for the reassurance that what he was doing was right, and nothing did that better than hearing about the ponies he was protecting. 

Oh, there he was again, looking back upon darker times on the brightest day of the year. Sometimes he swore he wanted to make himself upset. That was over two centuries ago, and he couldn't afford to waste any of this precious day sulking about over past incidences. 

The daily routine began its slow monotony as it always did. Firstly, Spike made a quick breakfast of a clawful of gems, crunching them down in a matter of seconds. Secondly, the dragon wrote the date into a fresh page of his journal. Funnily enough, his journals had quite a connection to this momentous occasion. After the first year, Spike had discovered that it was rather naïve of him to only bring a single book to use as a journal, and he had to request that Celestia provide him with more; a request that she was more than happy to fulfil. So, rather than having a single, dusty, old, decrepit book that contained all of his thoughts, Spike had a library of dusty, old, decrepit books that contained all of his thoughts. This particular dusty, old, decrepit book was the one hundred and ninety-eighth of its kind; the brown leather cover had the number carved into it for filing reasons. When he had first began to record his feelings, he would go through a book every year. But, over the decades, Spike had learned to keep his entries shorter. The last thing he wanted was to be in a cave that was stacked to the ceiling with different books that basically said the same thing over and over again. 

After recording the date, there was still work to be done; the cave was a dreadful sight to behold, and there was no way in tartarus that Spike could invite the ruler of the entire land in without her catching some sort of horrible disease. Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating, but it was still pretty atrocious. Luckily, he had been doing this sort of thing for two hundred and twenty-eight years, so pushing his gems to one side of the cave and adding a few torches to light up the place wasn't exactly unheard of. Finally, with the placement of an ornate rug that the dragon had kept particularly dust free for this occasion alone, Spike's cave was prepared for the arrival of the alicorn of the hour. The only problem with that being that Celestia usually didn't arrive for another few hours.  

Perhaps the cold-blooded interior decorator had gotten a bit ahead of himself, but that was to be expected of the greatest day of the year. If he couldn't put his heart and soul into this then he couldn't put it into anything. After inspecting the rug for the umpteenth time, if he wasn't certain that it was maroon before, he certainly knew now, Spike just sat and waited. 

The first hour went by uneventfully. He could've eaten a few gems, but the butterflies in his stomach just wouldn't allow such an insult to rain down upon their heads. No, it was only polite to refrain until his guest arrived, and that was exactly what he was going to do. The second hour was fairly similar, if he was being honest, the only difference was that now the sparkling buffet of gemstones behind the dragon was starting to whisper sweet nothings into his ear. But, as he was the honourable sort, he once again resisted this temptation. He wasn't going to ruin the best day of the year simply because his stomach was growling at him. The third hour brought the end of the best day of the year, and began a chain of events that would change Spike the dragon forever.

Leathery wings clawing at the sky, tearing through the air of peace that Spike had so painstakingly constructed around the date. What could he do? A dragon had never attack on the best day ever before. All he had to do was dispose of it before the Princess arrived, it was that simple; but why did it feel so difficult? Peering out from his cave, the reluctant guardian noted that the offending creature was of rather small proportions, smaller than he himself had been that first day two centuries ago. He could do it; it would be fast, clean, and quick. 

Spike was a blur, a determined blur. The dragon didn't catch a glimpse of the much larger foe until the sheer force of impact sent him spiralling towards the ground. Unfortunately, as with most dragon encounters, dying on impact wasn't part of the invader's agenda, and the teal reptile spread its wings at the last moment, pulling up and soaring back into the air. There was no time for verbal warnings, and there was no time for diplomacy, Spike was upon the other dragon in a matter of moments. In an eerily similar fashion to his first fight, the guardian had his opponent by the shoulders, and drove him into the ground. There was no time to accept this irony, however, and he went in for the kill. 
"Please, don't do this," the dragon began. They always begged for their lives, and part of Spike always cried out to him, telling him to accept their pleas for mercy. Yet, the other part of him, the guardian of Ponyville, told him to continue on, to do his duty. 

Spike brought his claw down across the other dragon's throat, blood pouring out like water from a burst dam. At first, the dragon kicked and struggled, trying desperately to get air into his lungs; but only blood came, and the liquid that had once given his body life was slowly choking it away from him. In a minute or so, there was no more movement. Without hesitation, Spike grasped the dripping corpse and took to the sky, heading towards the clearing. He still had time, Celestia wouldn't arrive yet, he could clean himself up and pretend it never happened; he could go back to being normal for that one day. 

Spike didn't really remember at what point Celestia did turn up; it could've been while he was flying towards the clearing, it could've been while he was in the process of digging the grave, but she did arrive, and the look of utter horror would never leave the dragon's memory. It was never a conversation he wanted to have, let alone while covered in blood. 
"Spike, I- I can't believe-, what have you done?" she began, stumbling over her words. Spike simply remained silent. What could he say? There he was, standing by a bleeding corpse, he himself was coated in the crimson liquid, and his only friend in the world looked like she was in shock. "When I sent you here, I wanted you to defend Ponyville, but not like this! Killing dragons, and this isn't your first, is it? Spike, this is sick! My word, what would Twilight have said?" All Spike could do was stare down at his claws as his mentor scolded his behaviour. He was a killer, this he had known for a long time, and this was nothing he didn't deserve. Yet, there was a certain sting that the mention of Twilight's name that warranted a response from the dragon, though he hardly spoke above a whisper.
"Twilight would never have let me go." 

Celestia blinked at the response, seeming almost insulted by the fact he had the nerve to speak when he was so at fault.
"Excuse me?" Spike turned finally allowed his eyes to leave his claws, staring straight into his accuser's eyes. 
"You sent me here in full knowledge that these dragons weren't going to communicate, you knew that I would have to do this." Celestia was constantly shifting her eyes between the dead dragon, and her voice was shaking as she spoke once more.
"Spike, this isn't you. You would never hurt a living creature!" 

Spike glared at the princess, and she visibly trembled. His voice was cold, and venomous. 
"You're right; I never wanted to hurt a living creature. Yet, you sent me here." The dragon took one step forward, and the alicorn took several steps back. "I was scared, but determined. I had to protect Ponyville, you said so." Another step forward, and many more steps back. "The first kill was horrifying, I couldn't eat or sleep right for days, yet I still fought on, because I had a job to do." Spike felt as though he was pouring his heart out to the alicorn, yet she looked terrified of him. There was no sympathy in her eyes, only fear. "I'd pray every day that a dragon wouldn't appear over that mountain, I'd pray that I wouldn't have to take another life, but my prayers went unanswered." Spike reached his claw out towards the princess, looking for a friend, and she flinched away from him. Was a dragon so threatening to one that could be considered a god? "Then you, the one who sent me here, have the nerve to say that what I'm doing is wrong?!" If she could see him only as a monster, than he would act the part. The enraged guardian spewed his emerald flames above the pony in an attempt at intimidation, and it worked; the princess cowered, tears pouring from her eyes. 

Spike towered over her, breathing heavily. With a single strike, he could've taken her life, with a breath, he could set her ablaze; but he didn't. "You come here every year and pretend that everything is alright, and up until now I've been happy to join you in that, but it seems that we both have to grow up. You can go back to your palace, you can sit on your throne, surrounded by ponies who adore you, and you can pretend that everything is just happy and joyous in your little kingdom. I will return to my cave, I do my duty, and I will protect Ponyville no matter the cost." Spike's rage had subsided, and he felt the all to familiar sting of guilt in his stomach. "Remember that, Celestia," his voice was softer as he turned away to return to his latest kill. The sight of the body still made him feel nauseous. 

Despite everything, there was still one piece of information Spike needed, but when he turned to ask the alicorn, she was gone. That was the last time Spike spoke with Celestia, and the last time he celebrated the 'greatest day of the year'. Every day once again began to blend together, one day bleeding into the next, and with no way of obtaining more journals should he run out, the dragon began to limit his entries, soon only recording key details. Nopony was ever going to read them anyway, so there was no real need. Even if they found them, nopony wanted to know the thoughts of a monster. 

As though fate had a rather peculiar sense of humour, Spike was snapped out of his thoughts by a familiar sound: another dragon. It was a light brown colour, and it couldn't have been much more than a third of the guardian's size. With a fresh reminder clear in his mind of his duty, the purple drake took to the sky towards his prey. Although there was one thing he forgot. 

The dragon saw him coming fairly soon, and attempted to escape. Spike had to hand it to him, he had some serious speed. Luckily, the older reptile's superior wing strength paid off, and he was gaining on the fleeing trespasser. In a last ditch effort to shake his pursuer, the brown dragon changed direction, flying up and over Spike and soaring higher into the air. It caused the guardian to lose a significant amount of ground, but sure enough he was back on the other dragon's tail soon. Finally, he was in range, and Spike swung his claw out at his opponent. The younger dragon tried to swerve out of the way, but the hint of red that Spike saw indicated that- Wait, no, that wasn't right. The dragon wasn't wounded at all, and there was no blood on Spike's claws; there wasn't anything on Spike's claws. But, there was a hint of red, a particularly shiny red pendant plummeting towards the ground at high speed. Both predator and prey watched as the jewel fell, and for a moment, Spike was lost in his thoughts. If he left the gem to its fate, and chose to pursue the dragon, then he could very well lose the most important object in his life. But if he chose the gem, there was a significant chance the dragon could escape and inform the others of his position. Five words swung the decision.

"Oh, my little Spikey-Wikey!"

Spike flew as fast and he could, but the ruby was already so far gone. It was the point of a sewing needle amongst a field of green, and the dragon could feel his age coming back to haunt him. That ruby was everything to him, though, and he would be damned before he would lose it. Spike dived faster and faster towards the pendant, and managed to close the distance to the point he could almost reach it. Unfortunately, as he was closing the distance, so was the ground. It was as though two immense forces were working in unison to crush the gem between them, and the question was which would strike it first. As luck would have it, Spike was the one who made first contact, and he only just pulled up, sliding into the ground with the ruby clutched firmly in his claw. He was bruised, but nothing was broken. 

Opening his claw, the dragon inspected his treasure. The golden chain was slightly scuffed, but nothing a good polish couldn't fix, and the gem itself was still flawless; a particularly relieving sight. This relief did not last, however, when the guardian remembered what he had just sacrificed to save the trinket. Taking to the sky once more, there was no sign of the younger dragon. It had presumably taken advantage of his attacker's distraction and escaped. With no trail left by the escaped reptile, there was no way of tracking him without overstepping his boundaries and giving away his location to the source of his grief itself. In over seven centuries, not a single dragon had ever escaped, and no doubt, the brown dragon would inform the roost of Spike's identity and location, and they would be upon him soon. All Spike could do was hold the ruby to his chest, and wait. 

The day ended with Spike laying awake in his cave, unable to sleep for the fear of attack. If he were to be caught off guard, he would surely die, and then Ponyville was doomed. The fire ruby was in his claws, being switched between each individual finger like foals passing around some interesting object at show and tell. Spike missed seeing foals around; he missed seeing ponies in general. It had been a long time since Spike had felt scared, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to cope with it anymore. So, he watched, and he waited, and the sun rose in the morning regardless.