The clock strikes 4, and just as the chimes die away, you hear a knock, signaling the final client for the day. You feel a thrill go through you at the thought. After this one, it’ll be time to seek out Rose, and have the talk you promised Luna you’d have with her. But you can’t worry about that now. Right now, it’s this client’s time.
“Come in!” you call.
The door opens, and a very small figure peeks around it before entering, shutting it swiftly behind them. Just at a glance, and apart from the obvious issue of size, you can tell that this isn’t a pony, because the client is walking on two feet. That’s right, feet. Not hooves. They’re also heavily enveloped in a trenchcoat, sunglasses, and a fedora hat.
You stare at the figure without speaking for several seconds. In the first place, this is the second time a client has come to their appointment with a disguised appearance, and the first time was only yesterday. Secondly, you were already unfamiliar with the name set on the schedule for this time, but just judging by the mystery guest’s height, as well the conspicuous purple claws poking out of the sleeves and the purple feet under the hem, it’s easy to guess who this might actually be.
Finally, with a shake of the head, you clear your throat and say, politely,
“Good afternoon, Sp- er, sir. Your name is ‘Quill’, correct?”
You decide that it would just be best to humor them and play along for now. They dressed up and chose a contrary name for a reason, after all.
“Yes, that’s right,” they say, in a husky male voice. “Quill Spadetail, that’s my name. Good afternoon. Lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Very much so. Well, Mr. Spadetail, please, make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you, my good sir.”
‘Quill Spadetail’ removes his hat, revealing a conspicuous ridge of green rounded spines. Then he removes his coat, revealing himself to be a short, stoutly-built dragon. Finally, removing the sunglasses, he reveals a pair of bright green eyes. It’s Spike, just as you surmised.
“Oh! Well, hello there, Spike,” you say.
“Shh!” Spike urges, putting a claw to his lips and looking around warily. “Not so loud!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” you say. “No one else is going to know. This office is soundproof, after all.”
Spike breathes a sigh of relief, then gives you a shrewd look, folding his arms.
“Be honest,” he says. “You knew it was me from the start, didn't you?”
Well, the cat’s out of the bag. To be fair, though, how exactly was he expecting to fool anyone? He’s the only dragon who lives in Ponyville, and no other creature who lives here goes about on two feet. Well, except for Discord, but he doesn’t actually live in Ponyville, and you’ve never actually met him yourself.
“Well, yeah, I had a feeling,” you confess, “but you clearly have a reason to not want to be recognized, and I felt I ought to respect that.”
Spike’s expression relaxes.
“That makes sense,” he says. “I appreciate it. On the other hand, I may need to change it up if it’s easy to recognize me. Maybe if I used a wig along with the hat, or comedy glasses. Or I could ask Twilight to give me a mustache again.”
That’s what he’s worried about? You can’t help but feel that some dragon is lacking a little self-awareness, but you keep that thought to yourself.
“Well, in the meantime, please, have a seat,” you say, gesturing to the couch.
Setting his tools for deception aside, Spike crosses over and lifts himself up onto the couch, quite easily for a kid of his stature. He scooches in to settle himself comfortably, and you see his eyes drift to the plate of cookies. He’s already gotten comfortable, and you don’t want to make him move again, so you pick up the plate and hold it out for him in easy reach.
“Help yourself,” you say, smiling.
“Don’t mind if I do!” he says, eagerly.
He leans over, his claw hovering over the plate, clearly trying to pick which cookie to take. Finally, he grabs one of the bigger ones and scarfs it down in one gulp.
“Mmm-MMM!” he hums in satisfaction, licking the crumbs from his lips. “Delicious! Pinkie Pie’s recipe?”
“That’s right,” you say. “I’m glad it’s so easy to recognize, even if I’m just replicating it.”
“You did a great job,” says Spike. “There’s always something a little extra in Pinkie’s recipes that makes it easy to tell it’s one of hers.”
“Must be the sprinkle of cinnamon,” you say. “I don’t remember it usually being used for chocolate chip cookies.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” says Spike. “I may prefer gems any time of the day, but I love me some sweet stuff as well.”
Ah, yes. That’s something you’ve never understood about dragons: their taste for gemstones. You can easily believe they’re able to eat them, with those sharp fangs of theirs, not to mention that they must have strong powers of digestion to consume whole minerals, but is there something in how gems taste that you’re missing? You’ve never exactly had reason to find out for yourself, not wanting to lick a gemstone. Perhaps dragon taste buds work differently than pony or human ones. You make a mental note to ask him, but you have to put your mind back on the session.
“So, if I may ask, Spike, why did you come here all dressed up? You’re not embarrassed about being seen at the spa, are you?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that,” says Spike, without a trace of evasiveness. “My friends know I like to relax just as much as anypony. Well, probably more so than anypony, considering all the work I do for Twilight. Not that I’m complaining about that!” he adds, hastily. “I like being Twilight’s assistant. I just need my ‘me’ time as well, you know?”
He’s rather quick to assure you that a heavy workload doesn’t bother him. You’re not sure whether he really means it, or whether he’s been asked about it so much that he feels the need to put it beyond doubt. Maybe he really does like keeping busy, or maybe there’s something he’s not admitting. You put it aside for now.
“Easily understandable,” you say, nodding. “No one wants to be burned out, even when they’re doing something they enjoy. So, then, why the disguise?”
“Well, I’m accompanying Twilight and Starlight on a visit to the Crystal Empire soon, and I’m trying to perfect my incognito look.”
You raise an eyebrow at this.
“Why would you want to be incognito at the Crystal Empire?” you ask. “Do they have something against dragons?”
Come to think of it, an entire kingdom made of crystals might not be the best place for a dragon with a big appetite and low self-restraint to visit, unless those crystals were magically able to regenerate themselves if damaged. You’d have to ask Cadance about that the next time you see her.
“Oho, far from it,” says Spike, putting his fists proudly on his hips with a rather big grin. “I don’t know if Twilight’s told you, but I’m kind of a big deal there.”
“Really? How so?”
“Oh, just that I’m responsible for saving the Empire twice.”
You’re not sure whether it’s what he just said, or the careless and casual way he says it, that strikes you more. Either way, this is definitely something Twilight has had yet to tell you. All she’d said was that the Empire had been saved from its former tyrannical ruler, not how it was accomplished.
“What?! Really?”
“Yep! It’s kind of a long story, but I helped save it from King Sombra when it first came back after being gone for a thousand years, and then I saved it again by averting an icy disaster at the Equestria Games.”
The Equestria Games. You’ve heard of those: a series of athletic events where ponies from all across Equestria compete for honor, glory, and medals. It sounds a lot like something that takes place back in your old country. You’re not sure what this ‘icy disaster’ Spike alluded to could have been, but as a fire-breathing dragon, it makes sense that he’d be instrumental in stopping it.
“That’s incredible,” you say. “It makes me wish I’d been there to witness it.”
“So, since then, I’m known as Spike the Brave and Glorious there,” says Spike. “Practically everypony there knows who I am.”
Now you think you’re starting to understand the why and wherefore of the odd disguise. How he still intends to fool anypony with it is beyond your understanding, of course.
“So the disguise is to ensure you don’t get mobbed by your adoring fans?” you ask.
“You got it,” says Spike. “The last time I was there, I could hardly walk three feet without an admirer asking me for an autograph, or to retell how I saved the Empire. Not that I mind, of course, just that I had other business to take care of. They’ve even got a statue of me in their town square.”
“That’s certainly much to be proud of,” you say, “especially for one so young.”
“Thanks,” says Spike. “Of course, I’m only a really big deal there in the Crystal Empire. Here in Ponyville, I’m just Spike, Twilight’s #1 assistant.”
“Which is still nothing to sneeze at,” you say.
“Exactly,” says Spike, smiling.
It’s quite gratifying hearing Spike talk like this. He’s still a kid, by both pony and dragon standards, and sometimes his age shows in the way he speaks and acts, but at other times, he’s wise and mature beyond his years. Growing up with a smart pony like Twilight must have had something to do with that. She raised him well.
“So, what brings you in for a session?” you ask. “Have you been feeling tired or exhausted lately? Or did you want a full experience after that free sample I let you have at Twilight’s castle?”
Spike laughs.
“A little of both,” he says. “I was definitely intrigued after that frill scritching you gave me, but I could also really use some cool-down time from my duties. There’s only so much I can do on my own without wearing myself out, and the amount of stuff I have to take care of really went up when we moved into the castle, especially doing the dishes.”
“Does Twilight make you do all the chores by yourself?” you ask.
Spike sounds fairly nonchalant about the upkeep of an entire castle. You know dragons are hardy and tough, but he’s still only a kid.
“No, not all of them,” says Spike. “She and I do a lot of cleaning up together, but she’s a princess now, and I can’t expect her to worry about the mundane stuff when she has a lot of royal responsibilities. Besides, I like being helpful and keeping busy. I feel like it’s my way of having a special talent without needing a cutie mark. Although, if I did have a cutie mark, it’d probably be a scroll burning from dragon fire.”
Right, that’s another quirk of Spike’s: being able to send messages by breathing fire on them, and receiving them by belching them out. You never got around to asking whether it’s something any dragon can do, or if he’s been specially trained to do it, or if it only works on certain parchment. That’s another thing you’ll have to shelve for later.
You had also caught what he said about having a special talent without needing a cutie mark. You can still remember your younger days, before you came to Equestria. You had been under the (admittedly naive) belief that every youngster in Equestria would be given a cutie mark once they discovered what they were meant to do. It wasn’t until you had started living here that you found out that it only happened to ponies. A slight disappointment, but you still wanted to find out where you belonged. You’d even made a habit of doodling potential cutie marks on sticky notes and placing them on the legs of your pants, to see how it would look. You were forced to stop when your foster father scolded you for wasting sticky notes, while your foster mother found it amusing.
You give your head a shake to bring yourself back to the present. Spike seems to have noticed your brief moment of spacing out.
“You ok?” he asks.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just reminded of something. Since cutie marks and special talents are a huge part of Equestrian life, it’s nice to know that creatures who can’t get cutie marks can still make their own mark with their own talents.”
“I’ll say,” says Spike. “I mean, look at you. Affection therapy’s definitely your special talent.”
“I’ve had that same thought myself,” you say, modestly. “But, to get back on topic, you say you’re happy doing chores for Twilight?”
“And being helpful to anypony I can,” says Spike. “Rarity, especially. She always likes having help with her shopping or her sewing or collecting gems, and I’m happy to be there to lend a claw for her. She’s always worth it.”
A dreamy, lovestruck look comes over Spike’s face. Recent resident though you are in comparison with everyone else in Ponyville, even you’ve caught on to the young dragon’s barely-disguised crush on Rarity. It’s hard to blame him, as she is quite a lovely pony, but it seems like one of those youthful infatuations that could pass as he grows older.
“I’m sure she greatly appreciates having such a gallant helper,” you say, “and I’m sure your friends all appreciate what a dutiful and diligent dragon you are.”
The look of infatuation fades from Spike’s face, to be replaced with a somewhat sad smile.
“I know they do,” he says, quietly. “I didn’t always, but I do now.”
You feel a sudden check at these words. Spike had been speaking with complete sincerity and goodwill before, but now he sounds a little glum. Were your suspicions correct? Does he have more to say than he’s letting on?
“What do you mean?” you ask, gently. “Have you doubted whether your friends appreciate you?”
Spike doesn’t answer at first. He looks as though he regretted letting that slip.
“It’s ok to be honest and open, Spike,” you say. “I won’t force you, of course, but letting out what’s bothering you is an important part of any therapy, affection or otherwise.”
Spike looks up into your face for a moment or two, then he sighs.
“I know it’s silly to think it,” he says, “but in the past, there were times when I felt like…well, like I didn’t matter to Twilight and the girls, like I was a kind of third wheel. Or would that be ‘seventh wheel’?” he briefly ponders. “Anyway, there were times when I felt ignored or unappreciated, like I was just an afterthought.”
Ignored? Unappreciated? Not only does it hurt to hear Spike talk like this, but these words resonate strongly with you, for good reason…
“Oh, Spike,” you murmur. “What would make you think that?”
“Well,” Spike says, “just to give an example, when we were all going to the Grand Galloping Gala for the first time, I was all excited about spending time with the girls, but they all had their own agendas, and kinda just left me all by myself.”
“Oh dear…”
“They did come find me after their own plans were ruined, and Twilight did admit that I had the right idea about how to spend the evening, but it still hurts a bit remembering how she assured me we’d spend time together, and then basically ditched me.”
You can’t blame him. Who wouldn’t feel hurt when a promise like that is broken? You have some experience with promises not being kept…
“That certainly doesn’t sound fun,” you say, “but I’m sure they didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”
“No, I know they didn’t,” says Spike, without a trace of doubt in his voice. “There’s been other times, of course: having to stay behind and watch the library while the others went on important errands, sticking behind while Twilight had her birthday party in Canterlot, not getting invited to meet the Equestria Games Inspector at the Crystal Empire, keeping the place nice for when Pinkie’s sister visited, stuff like that, but at those times, they at least had the courtesy to let me know about it, rather than going off without a word.”
“I can’t argue there,” you say. “It’s better to be forewarned than to be left to find out for yourself. Although, I’m a bit puzzled why you wouldn’t be invited to the Empire when you’re considered a hero there.”
“Oh, Twilight and Princess Cadance told me about that once the Equestria Games were underway,” says Spike. “They wanted everything to run smoothly for the Games Inspector’s visit, and didn’t want to risk the citizens getting distracted by a celebrity, and they also wanted to surprise me with the fact that I’m a hero. Certainly made up for the initial disappointment.”
“That makes sense, I suppose,” you say. “But, returning to the topic at hand, I’m at least glad you know your friends wouldn’t make you feel left out on purpose.”
“Yeah,” says Spike. “I wish I could say the same for other ponies, though. It’s not easy feeling respected when everypony pays more attention to Twilight and the others. I mean, who wouldn’t? They’ve saved Equestria about a dozen times now. I’ve always been happy to support them on the sidelines, but after what happened in Canterlot…”
He trails off, again looking like he’s said too much.
“What happened in Canterlot?” you ask.
“I don’t wanna bog you down with the details,” says Spike, “but Twilight needed some rest during an important conference, and I started taking care of things in her name to give her peace and quiet. It…kinda went to my head, and I royally messed up, all because I wanted to feel just as important as her.”
He looks away, looking melancholy again.
“Oh, I see.”
You certainly know what that feels like. Not ordering things in the name of royalty, of course, but wanting to feel like you mattered, when you felt overshadowed and overlooked. It seems dragons have it just as hard as humans, trying to find a niche and recognition in a pony-populated society.
“Have you ever discussed these feelings with Twilight?” you ask.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” says Spike. “I mean, I hadn’t at first, mostly because I didn’t think it was anything worth talking about, but when things started piling up, and especially after what happened at Canterlot, I had a long talk with her about how I felt.”
“Well, I’m glad you turned to someone you can trust with these feelings,” you say. “What did she say?”
Spike rubs his arm awkwardly.
“She was…honestly surprised with the specific times I brought up to her, and kinda hurt that I didn’t think to bring them up to her before. I know I should have, but…well, I guess I don’t really have a good excuse, except that I didn’t want her to feel worried about me.”
“Understandable,” you say. “What did she say then?”
“She said she never wanted me to feel like I was left out. She admitted that sometimes things get overlooked when our minds are busy with other stuff, like the time we left Rarity and Pinkie Pie behind in the desert.”
“Come again?”
“Long story. The point is, she admitted how easy it is to get distracted, and she sometimes took for granted that I’d just roll with any change of plans without complaint. Which, to be honest, I have been, so I guess it’s kinda on me. I really should’ve let her know sooner, I know, but she did say recently that she understands better how it feels to be left out of the fun now, after everyone else had fun with Discord while we stayed inside sorting books.”
That sounds like it would be another long story. So much seems to happen to Twilight and her friends, even when they’re not out saving Equestria, to the point where they can bring up occurrences that are eyebrow-raising or jaw-dropping to those without proper context, all with the casual demeanor of one talking about yesterday’s weather.
“Well, I’m just glad you’ve had the chance to talk with her about this,” you say. “I’m sorry that you’ve felt this way, when no one should ever feel excluded or neglected, but at least Twilight understands how you’ve been feeling, and you can work to ensure it doesn’t happen again. You two sound very close.”
“Yeah,” says Spike, smiling. “I love her like she’s my own family, and I know she thinks of me the same way, too, and nothing’s ever going to change that.”
You feel something in your eye, and a warmth in your heart, at this pronouncement. It brings to mind a conversation you overheard your foster parents had about you. Well, less a conversation and more an argument, shortly before you were set to move out and find your own way.
“Was sending him to his room really necessary?”
“Of course it was. I won’t be disrespected in this house!”
“And what’s so disrespectful about him wanting to call you ‘Dad’ or me ‘Mom’?”
“Because it gives him the idea that we’re his parents! We’ve been his guardians, Olive, that’s it! I won’t have him thinking he can claim us as being his family!”
“Why? Because he’s human?”
“Because he thinks he can be like a pony, and we both know that’s not gonna happen! All that talk about getting a cutie mark and learning magic…I’m trying to keep him grounded in reality, and he keeps going about with his head in the clouds! He needs to wake up and face the world like the man he is, and not the pony he thinks he is!”
“Let me tell you something, Clay: you’ve always been too hard on that poor boy. Nothing he does has ever been good enough for you. He lost his mother while he was with us, and you were as unsympathetic then as you are now. I don’t care if he’s not related to us by blood. He still lived in this house, and he was still under our guardianship. That means he’s been part of this family. If you don’t want him to call you ‘Dad’, well, that’s a pity, but have it your way. If he wants to call me ‘Mom’, or if he wants to call Spruce ‘brother’, I’m not going to stop him, and neither will you.”
“...You always side with him…”
“And you always side against him. But I suppose you’ll finally be happy once he moves out, and you’ll never have to see him again.”
“Of course I will. You, me, and Spruce will be far better off without him in our lives anymore.”
“You say that, but I know you don’t mean it. Not for me, anyway. I’ll miss him every day that he’s gone. Even if you never loved him like a son…I did…and I do…”
You give your head a shake to clear your thoughts again, and wipe at your eyes. Spike’s been watching.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.
“Yeah, sorry,” you say. “I was just really touched by what you said, about you and Twilight being family. It reminded me of something.”
Spike says nothing to this, but looks at you curiously. You clear your throat.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to take time away from your session with meandering.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” says Spike. “I like having a good chat, and it’s nice being able to get this kind of stuff off my chest, even if it’s stuff I’ve mostly moved past by now. It’s one of the reasons I signed up for a session. Just feels good to cleanse the air, you know?”
“I do,” you say, smiling. “You can’t keep stuff like this bottled up, or it’ll just keep festering until it just bursts out.”
Something you know about all too well, and quite recently, too…
“So, then,” you continue, “we still have plenty of time for this session. I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind another frill scratch?”
“Absolutely!” says Spike, eagerly. “Also, and this might sound weird, but…”
He hesitates, looking slightly embarrassed.
“What is it?” you ask.
“Do you think you could also…rub my belly scales while you do it?”
It takes a second or two for you to process this.
“You’d like both at the same time?” you ask.
“If that’s ok,” says Spike, still looking a little awkward. “Belly rubs are something else I only experienced after becoming a dog, and, well…”
Ok, you seriously need to ask Twilight about what circumstances turned Spike into a dog. Lacking context for these casual mentions is getting to be a bit much.
“That’s not a problem at all,” you say. “It’s your session, after all. Just make yourself cozy and we can begin.”
Grinning, Spike scooches over, then settles himself down on your lap. For a small guy, he’s a bit heavy, but not as heavy as the average pony. He stretches himself out so that he’s reclining against the armrest, with his arms behind his head. Grinning yourself at this, you place one hand behind one of his ear-frills, and one on his belly, scratching with one and rubbing with the other.
The instant you begin, Spike seems to simply melt, letting out a sigh of deep contentment as he closes his eyes. His foot twitches in an unmistakably dog-like way, and even his spade-tipped tail swishes about. Whatever happened to turn him into a dog, that feeling definitely still lingers. You’d normally find it unusual for a dragon, but you’ve seen plenty of ponies display canine or even feline behavior at these little displays of platonic affection, and Spike’s been raised by ponies all his life, so it’s natural he’d pick up some pony-ish habits.
It’s certainly a different experience giving an ear scratch and a belly rub to a dragon versus giving them to a pony. For one thing, you’ve grown used to the soft and smooth coats of fur a pony has. Spike’s scales are smooth as well, but there’s also a faint yet noticeable distinction in the feel of the individual scales that make up his skin, barely discernible by sight. The frills that are placed where his ears would be also feel more like the delicate fins of a fish, compared to the pointy and twitchy ears of a pony. Lastly, a pony’s belly is soft, furry, and sometimes cushy, whereas the ribbed underbelly of a dragon is a completely different sensation, like running one’s hand along a washboard. You’ve heard of alligators being soothed by rubbing their stomachs, and you wonder if dragons feel the same way. It’d certainly be an effective deterrent against their wanting to set fire to things, but the hard part would be getting close enough to do so.
The minutes tick by, and you continue in the same attitude: scratching and rubbing. After a time, you switch hands, so that you’re giving his other frill a scritch while continuing to rub. He gives a little squirm of comfort, and brings his arms down from behind his head, so that they’re curled up at his chest, much like a pony does. Taking a chance, you give him a scratch under the chin. His foot twitches again, and his tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth. It’s honestly quite endearing, and it helps that Spike already has a charm of endearment by virtue of being a baby dragon.
You’d hoped, from the outset, to make affection therapy inclusive for everyone, since anypony could be in need of relaxation and comfort. Since starting, as you’ve remarked to yourself before, you’ve found that the ones most willing to partake in it, or the ones who have been the least shy about it, have been mares, though you have evidence to confirm that stallions wouldn’t mind it either, from Big Macintosh and now from Spike, even if he’s more of a drake than a stallion. You find yourself wondering who else in Ponyville is willing to give it a try, or even beyond, since Princesses Cadance and Luna requested sessions. And why should that be limited to ponies? What if other creatures outside Equestria become interested? That’s something that hasn’t really crossed your mind much until now.
Your thoughts are interrupted as the clock chimes its 5 minute warning. Your last session for the day is coming to a close, and the prospect of confiding in Rose looks ever closer. It gives you a sudden knot of anticipation in your stomach. You remove your hands, and Spike slowly sits up, stretching and yawning.
“How are you feeling?” you ask.
“Excellent,” says Spike, grinning. “I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed.”
“I’m glad to hear,” you say, smiling. “It’s gratifying to know affection therapy works for dragons as well as ponies.”
“Oh yeah,” says Spike. “I wonder if I can convince Ember to go for a session.”
“Ember?”
“The new Dragon Lord, and a new friend I made,” Spike explains. “I think you’d like her. She’s tough, but she’s got a soft side. I’ll write to her and see what she says.”
“I see,” you say, not entirely sure whether a Lord of Dragons would really be up for it, as opposed to a normal dragon like Spike. “Well, it’d certainly be interesting to have the input of such an important figure as the Dragon Lord.”
“I’ll keep you posted,” says Spike, before adding, “and thanks again. You’re really doing something special here for everypony. Twilight was right to put so much faith in you and what you do.”
You feel your heart grow quite warm at this, though you’re not sure what to say at first. Spike simply holds out his fist, knuckles first, and, taking the hint, you lightly bump your fist against his. With that, Spike hops down from the couch and starts putting his disguise back on. Soon, ‘Quill Spadetail’ is back.
“I hope your trip to the Crystal Empire goes well,” you say.
“Thanks,” says Spike. “Hopefully we can have one visit with Cadance and Shining Armor that doesn’t put the fate of Equestria hanging in the balance.”
As you’re trying to process this, Spike crosses over and picks up a few more cookies.
“One for the road, one for Twilight, and one for Starlight,” he says. “You don’t mind, right?”
“Of course not,” you say. “Please, feel free, and tell them I said hi.”
“Will do. See ya!”
“Take care.”
Putting the cookies carefully in the pockets of his coat, Spike tips his hat in token of farewell, then, opening the door and peering out to make sure the hallway is empty, takes his leave. In the meantime, you’re still trying to work your mind around the latest casual declaration of adventurous doings that Spike dropped on you. While you’re grateful that Twilight and her friends have remained humble in spite of their status as heroes, you don’t envy the constant pull towards adventure and danger that seems to hang over them. You don’t know how they handle it without losing their minds.