//------------------------------// // Chapter 14 // Story: Prom and Circumstance // by TheMessenger //------------------------------// It was a meaningless task really, sweeping. The mess in the courtyard was so great, with bits and pieces of charred airship lodged in the earth and so much discarded food all over the ground and on the walls of the surrounding buildings and good heavens where did all that melted cheese come from, there couldn’t possibly be enough dairy producing farms in Equestria, one dustpan full of confetti wasn’t going to make much of a difference. Not that cleaning up was very high on anyone’s priority list to begin with, not when there were reports to the princesses in Canterlot to be made, a broken centaur to return to Tartarus and his stolen magic to process, and traumas to address, particularly a certain dragon who required consoling after her violent but most certainly opportune spurt of greed-induced bigness. Perhaps the most pressing matter was the utter lack of news on Cozy Glow. No one had seen hide or hair of the self-proclaimed Empress of Friendship at the incident, which meant there was one more dangerous tyrant bent on world domination out there at large making Equestria a more perilous place. Search parties had to be organized and the guard had to be roused and readied, and with all that in mind, it was pretty understandable that just about everyone forgot about the post-prom cleanup. Everyone but Spike. It was tedious, tiresome task, sweeping, and it wasn’t exactly something Spike found much pleasure in doing. Younger Spike would have found more enjoyment in griping as loudly as he could about the job and making arguments on how his guardian’s magic made all his efforts moot, and while Spike had long since grown out of throwing tantrums as a means of escaping his chores, his feelings toward the task hadn’t really gotten much warmer than begrudged acceptance, no matter how fascinating Twilight found it was that the broom handle seemed to have been made for his claws. However, after everything that had occurred, not just in the last couple of hours but from the past few weeks as well, after all the craziness and awkwardness and worry, Spike needed something dull and mundane to focus on, and with Twilight finally back and in her own body separated from Discord, Spike was free to sweep without all those head of the school responsibilities hanging over him. There was certainly something refreshing about once again having someone qualified and, more importantly, not him in charge and with the restoration of the established chain of command came a much welcomed sense of normalcy. Whether his brief tenure as headdragon had gone any poorer than his attempt to fill in for an exhausted Princess Twilight Sparkle during that one Grand Equestria Pony Summit was debatable, at least this time there wasn’t a mob of angry ponies pointing their hooves at him or a lecture on the abuse of power. It didn’t really matter. Finally, it was all over, and Spike could return to his old post as number one assistant, to his old duties, and given time, life in Ponyville and the School of Friendship would return to how it had been before, just as it had after every other disaster. After all, it was just another day, with just another villain, leaving just another messy aftermath for Twilight and her associates to clean up. Well, at least that’s what Spike kept telling himself as he pushed the broom along, hoping that if he believed in the lie hard enough, that everything was back to normal, it would become true. Because otherwise, it would mean having to accept that some things had changed. It would mean recognizing that night as what it was, a complete and utter failure and an end to a stillborn dream. It would mean having to move on. That was the catch in an easy and monotonous job like sweeping. While relatively stress-free, it did leave his mind with little stimulation to occupy itself with, and an unoccupied mind had a tendency to wander into places one would rather avoid, digging up things best kept buried and forgotten. Try as he might, Spike couldn’t silence those nagging voices telling him off for foolishly hoping that by some miracle everything would fix itself on its own, for thinking they could just return to their old friendship like nothing had happened. It wasn’t fair, the voices argued, not to Rarity nor to himself, not after all the years they had been together as friends and certainly not after what he had done to her. The worst part of having argument with yourself? Knowing that all those voices you’re fighting with are yours and yours alone. And knowing that they’re right. Spike stopped sweeping to look around and see just how much he had accomplished. It wasn’t very much, every corner of the courtyard was still covered in tiny squares of colored paper. It wasn’t even worth trying to describe it in a fraction. Spike had expected as much, but still he released a tired sigh. He took a moment to stab the broom down into the ground and leaned against the handle. His eyes shut for a few seconds, just for a quick rest. Someone was approaching, a pony if those hoofsteps were any indication. Spike opened his eyes to find Rarity walking toward him with a pair of paper cups. The dust in her coat and the wrinkles in her clothes did little to diminish her appearance, at least to Spike. Even with her mane as disheveled as it was, Spike still found her breathtaking, though there was now something bittersweet in his appreciation. Rarity held a cup toward him. “I brought you some water.” “Thanks.” As he accepted the cup, Spike saw the bandage wrapped around her left hind leg. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “A bit stiff,” Rarity said. She rolled her shoulders and winced as she tried to arch her back. “Especially my back, and I’m having a little trouble moving this leg.” She shook the bandaged leg. “But nothing too concerning. What about you?” “Me? I’m good. My throat’s a little sore, and I’m kind of worn out, but I’ll be fine.” Spike rubbed the front of his neck, no longer restricted by a tie. “Yeah.” “Oh. That, that’s good to hear. Yes.” “Yeah. Um, yeah. All good.” A familiar silence had returned and settled between the two as they distracted their tongues with sips of water and directed their gazes to the starry night sky or at the debris littering the courtyard, really anywhere besides at each other’s eyes. And during it all, Spike’s conscience continued its browbeating, urging him to speak to the mare next to him, to finally address his mistake. Spike took another sip of water. He had until his drink was finished, he promised himself, let him have at least that much time. Spike took another sip. The cup was now half empty. He took another sip. The bottom of the cup could now be seen. He took another sip. Only a few droplets remained. He raised the cup to his lips one final time. The cup was empty, no more excuses. Spike crumbled the paper cup in his claw and inhaled. “Spike?” Rarity began. “There’s something I, is everything alright?” “Yeah,” Spike managed to wheeze between coughs, having choked on the breath he had held. “Sorry, what were you saying?” “Spike, I just wanted to say.” Rarity swallowed. “Thank you, for staying with me back there. It was brave of you to try and stand against Tirek like that.” She bit her lip. “To protect me.” “Well, of course I would. I’d never abandon you. Oh, uh, I mean.” Spike looked away, ashamed. He mumbled something under his breath, something Rarity couldn’t catch. “You’re a wonderful friend, Spike. I’m sorry, I should know you wouldn’t have left any of us in danger.” Rarity hesitated, her head lowered. “Not even after what I did.” “What you, Rarity, what are you—“ “Spike, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was so caught up in designing Smolder’s dress, and then she came to me unannounced, and we had to get all her measurements down, and then all of a sudden everyone and their mother was in my shop looking for dresses and asking for my help, and I know it just sounds like I’m just trying to make excuses, I’m not, I should have kept track of time or turned them away, and now it just sounds like I’m rambling, and instead of talking to you about it I’ve just been avoiding you all this time, and, and—“ “Rarity, calm down,” Spike exclaimed, cutting the mare off as he took hold of her shoulders. “I’m not getting any of this. What do you mean? What are you even apologizing for? If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. And I am.” He took in another deep breath and let his arms fall to his sides. “Rarity, I am sorry, so so super sorry. It doesn’t matter why it happened, it still happened, and I let it happen, and if you never forgive me, I’ll understand. I just, I just need you to know, you still mean everything to me, really, and I’m sorry for missing our date.” Rarity blinked. “Missing our date? What are you saying? I’m the one who failed to show. I’m the one who kept you waiting. I even saw you leave the auditorium, and like the coward I was, I didn’t even try to apologize or explain.” “But, but I just got there in time to watch the audience leave. And when I couldn’t find you, I thought, you mean you hadn’t already left?” “What, the auditorium?” Rarity shook her head. “I had only just arrived when I saw you exit the stands. But then—“ Spike was approaching the same realization. “That would mean—“ They sighed together, a duet of weeks worth of exhaustion and frustration being released at long last in a single exhale. And for the first time in a long while, their eyes locked with no attempts to break contact. “Was it the gala organizers?” Rarity asked as a smile slowly made its way over her face. Spike returned the smile. “Yeah. They showed up late and were a huge stickler about everything. Not that it did much good,” he added, taking a quick glance around the destroyed courtyard before returning to the mare before him. “What about you? What happened?” “Smolder, well I suppose there’s no point in keeping it a secret anymore, she commissioned a dress for the prom. She showed up that afternoon to help with the design and for the measurements, then her friends came too and need help picking out their own dresses and with the fittings. One thing led to another, and I just lost track of time.” The smile wavered. “Spike, please forgive me.” “But that’s your job. You shouldn’t have to apologize for doing your job,” Spike protested. “And I’m just as bad. I let those gala planners blabber on through the night even when I knew I was running late.” Rarity let out another sigh. “We should have just rescheduled.“ “Yeah,” Spike agreed with a chuckle. “Missing the show would have been a letdown, but at least we could’ve save ourselves from all of this awkwardness. So.” Spike cleared his throat, his claws grabbing at a tie that wasn’t there. “Um, so.” “Yes, Spike?” “I don’t know, maybe this is a little too sudden after everything we just went through. Just, I was wondering, could we maybe, you know.” The dragon winced. “Try again? Like next Saturday?” “Oh Spikey, I’d love to, but the next fashion season will be starting soon, and I have to begin preparing. I’m afraid I’ll be quite busy.” “Oh, oh right. Th-that’s cool. Yeah, don’t worry about it.” “I wasn’t finished,” Rarity said with a small smirk. “I was going to say I need more supplies and would love to invite a certain dragon out for a little gem hunt, let’s say Wednesday, two weeks from now.” “Yeah? I mean, yeah, of course I’ll—“ “As more than friends.” Rarity’s smile widened as Spike’s eyes did. “It won’t be as romantic as a candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by a show, but we can still have a nice little picnic, just the two of us. Just, ah, if something unexpected does come up, anything at all, let’s promise to tell each other instead of having a repeat of the past few weeks.” “You’ll be the first to know,” Spike said, nodding just as another set of hoofsteps announced the presence of newcomers. He and Rarity turned to face the musicians hired for the evening, accompanied by their instruments. “What’s up?” Spike greeted. “I do hope we’re not interrupting anything important, but my...” Octavia Melody seemed to struggle with finding the right word to use. “...colleague has brought something to my attention. I understand that we were paid to play for the entire evening, but seeing as the event has come to a, shall we say, rather premature conclusion, I believe our obligations have been fulfilled.” Spike’s confusion must have shown as the unicorn behind Octavia lifted those dark purple glasses she always wore to show her rolling eyes. “Can we go home?” “Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, thanks for everything. Actually, wait!” Spike stopped the two from leaving. “Could you play one more thing. Just this one last thing, and then you can go.” Octavia looked to her partner who simply shrugged and started setting up her equipment. “I suppose,” she said as she stood her cello up and readied her bow. “Anything in particular?” “Something slow,” Spike said. Bending at the knee, he held out his claw toward toward Rarity. With a giggle, Rarity placed her hoof into the open claw. And under the stars and the moon, the two danced, guided by the soft melody of the cello and the synthetic rhythm of the record mixer.