One: Take Five
The usually quiet Treebrary in the heart of Ponyville was currently turned upside-down by it's caretaker. Twilight ran to and fro, levitating what seemed like clouds of books and frantically placing them either in boxes or in the wooden shelves. Spike was in the middle of it all, struggling with boxes after boxes of trinkets. He wasn't the puny baby dragon he used to be: He had grown to be as tall as Twilight were she standing on her forelegs and able to retain his mind unlike the faster growth he had experienced many years ago during his short rampage through the town. More green scales covered his purple head, though he was able to comb them in a way he looked slick and tidy. His feet and hands were growing claws that needed constant filing, thanks to this he was just as dexterous as his surrogate mother when it came to handling things.
Spike wasn't all too happy about his situation, a constant frown framed his green eyes as he piled up the boxes in the Treebrary's entrance.
"Spike?" called Twilight. "You make sure you packed the fragile items in bubble foil?"
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes."
"With an extra coat of cloth?" Twilight questioned.
"Yes." He answered again in the same tone.
"And you wrapped every single bundle with tape?"
"I even put newspaper from the old Foal Free Press stash as an extra precaution." He said, putting an end to that line of conversation.
Twilight finished shuffling books in the air, placing them in a neatly thought order before turning towards her assistant. "Perfect! Just as I expected from my number-one assistant." She said in a sing-song voice. "Did you also write on the boxes' sides what's in them?"
Spike scratched his head, puzzled. "I... guess so?" He said with a nervous grin.
Twilight gave him a stern look as she walked past him, examining the box pile. "Augh! Spike! I thought I made myself clear! I want every single item listed in on the side! How am I ever supposed to know which box to open first when I don't know what's in them in the first place!"
Spike frowned, pointing towards one of the boxes. It read 'Magic Books A to E' on the side. "C'mon Twilight I can't possibly list every single item that goes in the box! I will not undo the work I've done just for that!" He stared at her life-long mentor for a few moments. He shot her an angry glare and she did the same. Spike then bellowed "Wait, do you actually expect me to do it?!".
Twilight looked up to him, with a mixture of anger and annoyance that somehow came with a cute face. "If you please!" She ordered.
Spike was having none of it.
He clenched his teeth and opened the door to the Treebary. Twilight opened her mouth to admonish him more, but Spike cut her off. "Nuh-uh, no way! I said I'd be able to help you until 5 o'clock. There's more wrapping than there is, you know, stuff in your boxes! Besides, I refuse to list 350 books on the side of a cardboard box. Get Candlelight to help you with that, Twi. He's the one putting up with you now."
Twilight couldn't believe her ears staring at Spike as he grabbed a small cloth pouch from the coat-hanger and made his way into town. His attitude didn't help in the slightest to ease the mood, however she felt this was something she brought upon herself and her partner for life. She closed the door softly and returned to the upper floor of the Treebrary, now barren of her possessions save the bed. She sat down and picked up a small basket from the floor, still containing a blanket and a pillow with a very distinct dent on it. The memento of a past growing more and more distant echoed very fond memories in her mind.
It seemed she had arrived to Ponyville only yesterday.
The incident with Nightmare Moon and Discord still fresh in her memory, as well as the other adventures she experienced alongside her friends whom had carved themselves in her heart as a surrogate family of sorts. Yet... a thought yanked her nerves from these supposedly blissful season. Something she had not seen coming.
"Twi, honey? I'm here!" a colt's voice came following the knocks.
Twilight put down the baby crib once again and rushed to the steps. "Coming, Candlelight!" she shouted.
Spike the Dragon trudged down Ponyville Mane Street, walking with his clenched fists and a menacing stare. He didn't feel like greeting the passer-bys, at that moment they felt like nuisances; like fleas playing in his hide. He stopped for a moment and sat down on a bench near Sugarcube Corner, a place where his patronage would always be welcome. He felt a bit of relief seeing it: Thanks to the diligent maintenance and watchful care of the Cakes, it looked as if it hadn't aged a single day. He grabbed his pouch, the distinct jingling of bits coming out of it.
"I wonder if Pinkie has that sapphire cupcake she promised last week..." He murmured.
"Oh Spike! I'm super duper happy you came here!" shouted the bubbly voice from across the street.
Spike stood up and crossed the street, grinning towards Pinkie who has hopping in the Corner's entrance. Ponykind and Equestria at large were very lucky Pinkie hadn't been born a unicorn, that's what Spike thought: As an earth pony she already had a power resembling telepathy.
Though the outside was frozen in time, inside was a very different story: The Cake's had to buy more machines and equipment to meet the needs of an increasing number of customers. Pinkie had to squeeze in between the huge pedal-powered flour mixer and a likewise big glass apparel containing many a delicacy just to get behind the counter. Spike felt uncomfortable, as if the shelves and metal machines would come crashing down on him with only a sneeze.
"Just wait a teeny-tiny minute, Spike! I'm sure I have your cupcake around... here..." Said the pink pony with a broad smile while she rummaged through the contents of a fridge below the counter.
Spike ran his index claw through the counter, confirming its spotless state. "Seems like you run a pretty tight ship around here, Pinkie!" He said, starting a conversation.
"It's extra-prickly sometimes, but it's loads of fun too!" She said happily. "And besides, it's not like I run the corner alone!"
Her words were like a cue for the door to burst open on the back-store. Startled, Spike peeked over the huge flour mixer to see a small colt and filly on the floor. They were having a blast, fighting each other out.
"Oh, dear." Pinkie said hurriedly as she trotted towards them. "Pound Cake, Pumpkin Cake!" She said in a commanding tone.
Both siblings stopped playing on the floor at once and stood upright in a matter of moments. "Is this the place and time to be playing on the shop's floor?" She asked with a frown.
In a high-pitched choir, both of them replied. "No, Pinkie!"
Pinkie softened her stern face and picked them up both from the ground in a big hug. "Awwww, I can't stay mad at you both for long!" The Cake Siblings laughed as Pinkie spinned in circles faster and faster with a filly on each hoof. They spun and they laughed, Spike simply watched the whole scene. When Pinkie set down both of them, they realised Spike's presence.
"Spike!" They shouted in unison as they ran towards him.
Pound flew like a dart over to his shoulders and instantly tried to pull him towards the floor. Pumpkin was much more affectionate, hugging his leg lovingly. Spike struggled to keep his balance, grunting and flailing his arms trying to grab Pound Cake and get him off his back. But to no avail. Soon, both fillies were to much for him and he landed on the store's floor with a soft thud.
"Ow! Jeez, when did you get so big?!" Spike haphazardly said, out of breath.
Pound Cake grinned. "Well, when did you get so old, Spike? You're supposed to be an almighty and powerful dragon! Who are you and what did you do to the real Spike? Huh? Huh?"
Spike brushed it off, chuckling. He couldn't help but ask himself the same thing.
"C'mon little fillies, Spike here just came for his cupcakes." Pinkie said in a loving tone. "Now what do you say if you help ol'Pinkie run the flour mixer and she'll treat you to a special surprise at the end of the day?"
Pumpkin Cake's eyes glistened with glee as she zipped towards the pedals and started pumping the machine as hard as she could.
"Another night at the movies, I'm on it!" Pound frowned as he got on the other seat of the tandem bicycle mounted in what appeared to be a giant hamster plaything. "Aw, no way! Me first!" he shouted.
Spike got up on his feet with a little help from Pinkie. "Boy they sure grow up fast... It seems I was watching them in the hospital's nursery only yesterday." He said sighing.
"You wouldn't believe what kind of messes I put of with them in their early days." Pinkie replied. She quickly handled him a paper bag containing his treat. "Here, have at your scrumptious cupcake time!" She said cheerfully.
"Thanks, Pinkie." Spike said. "I'll eat it when I finish my work at Rarity's."
Pinkie shook her head as she waved him goodbye from Sugarcube Corner's entrance. "Oh, he's still hopeless..." she groaned.
"Honey, we have talked about this so many times I just lost count." The periwinkle blue colt sighed.
"I have, and they've been exactly seventeen times not counting your constant pestering of Spike at the dinner table! I'm beginning to think we're getting a little bit closer to INSANE every time I even say a word about Spike!" she snapped.
Twilight was simply exhausted from the coming-and-going between her and her fiancé. She sat a top a pile of boxes she had painstakingly opened and emptied of its contents just to label each one on the sides. She looked in dismay towards the pile of neatly packed boxes Spike had taken care of earlier and another look towards her writing supplies. Three ink bottles were empty, the forth one was on its last droplets. She had refused to use pencil, fearing the writing would smudge off. Below her were a poultry seven boxes, all marked and accounted for the way she wanted. Massaging her eyebrows in an attempt to ease a mild headache, she groaned.
"Spike was right, this is way too much."
The colt named Candlelight paced back and forth in the Treebrary's foyer, ordering his thoughts before saying anything. He gritted his teeth, balanced between anger and frustration. "Love, we have been over this for weeks now. You brought it up two days later after I proposed! You just have to let the dragon go. He's bigger than he used to be and will continue to grow."
Twilight stammered through her words, confused. "B-B-But I n-n-n-n-need an ass-assistant! Ssss-pike's that! Precisely that!"
Candlelight trotted towards her and nuzzled her affectionately. "I know he's your assistant, but haven't I been doing a fantastic job at it? I mean, he's his own drake now. He can fare for himself now and so do we."
Twilight was reaching desperation. "B-But my mail to Princess Celestia gets through Spike! I need him to handle my personal mail with-"
The colt softly put his hoof on Twilight's mouth. "I am looking at the mare who invented the Emergency Delivery Spell for the Equestrian Post office. Surely she knows how to handle her mail on her own." Twilight rolled her eyes and cuddled with her special somepony, observing the magical walls that held her and her livelihood for many years.
"Sweetie, I..." she began to say.
"What is it, Honey?" he replied in a whisper.
"I've been with Spike for so many years. His entire life. I'm practically his mother, and this here is a mother abandoning her child. It just doesn't... feel right." Twilight looked towards the ground the whole time.
Candlelight thought of a comeback after a brief silence. "Well, is it a lot better for a mother to tout her child even when it clearly can fend of his own? Who are you going to be, Twilight? A responsible parent or an overly attached one?" Twilight opened her mouth, but not a single sound came out of it. Candlelight stood up and cantered towards the entrance. "Tell you what: I'll buy you a nice Daisy Sandwich and you'll get your mind off things."
Twilight smiled sheepishly and nodded. It was because of these little things she had come to adore him.
More than anypony else.
"Darling, we simply must get these ready for the photo session tomorrow evening. Time is money and I will not waste a single dime!" A haughty voice echoed through the workshop.
Spike simply nodded and refocused on the task at hand. He looked over a pair of magnifying glasses as he claw-stitched a piece of dashing purple cloth. "I'll be done with the rump section of the Mio Biosgno in about an hour, Rarity." That last word came along a bit lofty and hopeful.
In came the pearl-white fashion designer donning her red butterfly glasses. She was looking at the dragon with a very worried face. "Can we make it half an hour?" she asked.
Spike took a moment to answer. "I guess I can do it, if I do the backstitches on the machine."
Rarity got closer and gave him a peck in the cheek. "That's my Spikey-Wikey, dragon tailor extraordinare!"
The distinctive sound of bells ringing broke the moment, Rarity gracefully trotting towards the parlor. "Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every-" the tagline had been spoken so many times that Spike could complete that sentence even in his sleep. Back to the work at hand, he paced the needle back and forth with mastery. Spike grinned, remembering the one time he stitched faster than Rarity and her magic: Hooves were simply not the right tools for this kind of work.
In between the back and forth of the thread he stole small glint of the mare of his dreams walking to and from with the customers, flaunting her curled mane and enticing the customer into buying something a lot more expensive for what he came for. He pictured himself so many times surrounding her, a blushed face with narrow slits for eyes looking back at him, a musk perfume hanging over them like a scene ripped out of her kitsch romance novels. She read them with so much eagerness, and Spike always pictured them as the colt and mare in the front cover.
There she was, carefully placing her hooves into a model-like strut. There she was again, batting her eyelids as a sign of not understanding the customer. Again her, puckering her lips.
Spike would gladly pay to just watch.
Alas, the dream was not meant to last.
Just there and then did Spike's aloof thoughts came crashing down like a pegasus sleeping in mid-air. "Ah, darling! So glad you came home!" Rarity exclaimed with sincere glee.
In between the frilly curtains and baroque wallpaper, Spike could see Rarity doing a small and very subtle cabriolet at the sight of another white-coated unicorn with azure blue hair. "Well, Love... It has been a particularly quaint day in which Canterlot seems to have forgotten their sense of timing and punctuality. Need I a better excuse to come and see you?"
Rarity came closer and nuzzled Fancy Pants.
Spike wasn't enjoying it at all but couldn't help but stare. His claw had stopped sewing too. Unbeknownst to them, Spike could hear their whispering with his increasingly more acute hearing. Though he'd wish to stay out of the loop in that regard.
Fancy tossed around the curls in her mane, his eyes telling of his intentions. "Say, love... Why don't you and me go out somewhere? For the night? Sweetie Belle is a big girl, surely she can handle herself on her own?"
Rarity hummed, playing along. "I sure do believe she is. I'll just leave the store to Spike here and we can go to... The Chalet? Sounds good?"
Fancy picked her hoof of the ground and muttered in a low voice. "To me everything you say is nothing but music, dear." Rarity giggled like a schoolgirl hearing that. By accident, she leaned over the piano tucked to the store's floor for decoration purposes. The keys plucked a mismatched tune, making Rarity jump from the shock.
Fancy smiled.
Rarity giggled.
She trotted up the stairs and into the housing areas of the store. "Sweetie Belle! It's time for us to go your piano lessons! Sweetie Belle!" she called atop of her voice.
Spike's heart sank to the ground every time he saw Rarity and her... friend. The "H" word was too much for him. He went back to the work at hand, shutting the lid of Spike's Box of Emotions once again. The golden thread was running out of the spool spinning in his middle claw, so he stood up and got another one from the counter at the shop front.
Obviously, Fancy Pants noticed his presence.
"Ah, Spike! Now here's a good chap! How is business today?" He asked in a cheery voice.
Spike put on his poker face, answering in a likewise merry manner. "Just fine, Mr. Pants. I'm just looking for a new spool of thread! Boss demands the dress be done in half an hour!" He chuckled after that sentence, his smile causing pain in every muscle surrounding his face.
"Well Spike I have told you a thousand times, please call me Fancy! You're certainly not a stranger to this family or Rarity herself!"
Spike shook his head, beaming a big fake grin. "Gotcha, MISTER PANTS. Well, gotta go to the back. Time is money and the coffers are not bottomless!" he said with a specially poignant remark.
He waved only once and picked up the golden spool of thread. Steps of two sets of hooves resonated in the roof, muffled voices and screams seeping in through the woodwork. They shifted quickly towards the staircase, the screaming of Sweetie Belle finally taking shape.
"But Raaa-ri-tieeeee!! Professor Clavichord is so boooring!! I just want to sing! He's a snooze-fest and he's such an old colt!" Rarity was flustered by that particular remark.
"Well I dare say, Sweetie Belle! That is no way in which a lady like yourself talks! I'll have you practice extra time later this evening!"
Sweetie Belle stomped her hooves in frustration, glaring at Fancy Pants as she brushed past him. She noticed Spike working at the far side of the store, acknowledging his presence with a solitary "Hi, Spike." She stormed out of the store, Rarity following. She shot Fancy Pants a small wink, beckoning him to accompany them. Spike stared at his subject of affection swaying her plot left and back.
The bells rang one last time while the door closed.
Spike and her had already reached a wordless agreement on what should happen whenever this happened. Almost like a contraption concocted by the town's own inventor, Doctor Whooves, he stood up from his stool and walked to the entrance. He flipped the sign from "Open" to "Pre-orders Only", just to bury himself back again in his own thoughts.
"You know who you are, Spike?" His inner voiced called out to him from the silence.
"I know the answer, you're a nopony. You're a nodrake."
Spike shook his head violently, muting his conciousness.
"That's what you are, you're a nodrake." He bit his lip, hoping that with the pain would come his body's own painkillers.
"You're nothing to Twilight."
Giving into the temporal state of madness, he replied softly. "That's not true."
"You're nothing to Rarity."
"If you ran away, nopony would look for you. They just don't care about you. The dragon named Spike is nothing more than an afterthought. A footnote in the grand story of the Elements of Harmony."
He couldn't bear his emotions in flux no longer.
Thread by thread, Spike let go of his long-stored tears. They were not a fountain cry like Pinkie's, it was more of a soft trickle of clear liquid running down his face and chin. He sobbed silently, clenching his teeth to not let go of a roar or a moan that would express his continuous heartache. His mind materialized his pains in every thread he sowed in the purple gleaming dress.The threads were neatly arranged, the only thing Spike had to do was to put the backstitches in place and that would be the end of it. The dress he was working on was supposed to evoke the colours and sensations of a vineyard, yet it was woven with Spike's own sorrows.
Spike couldn't stand the look of it for another second, so he threw it over the sewing machine. He hoped the machine was enchanted and it'd take care of itself.
Spike walked towards the fitting room, finding the large mirrors that would bear Rarity's reflections a million times. An assortment of night gowns and runway pieces rested on a mobile coat hanger, some of them tailored entirely by him. His eyes rolled towards the red stretching couch Rarity used to lay down after a hard day's work and also to drape herself in her usual drama queen fashion. Spike sat on it and ran his claw over the soft fabric. Spike grabbed a pillow and hugged it, fabricating the illusion of a hug from the mare he cared the most. He smiled and laughed loudly to himself.
"Oh, Celestia. If you're watching me you're having a blast, aren't you?! Everypony gets to win at life but me!" He stood up and talked to the pillow in his delusion.
"Oh hey Rarity! It's me, the one dragon who has been head over hooves for you for the past years!"
He then feigned Rarity's dignified voice. "Oh you? What's your name? Spuck? Spack? I can't seem to recall."
"Oh hey Twilight! Remember me? I'm your assistant. You hatched me!"
He then feigned Twilight's sincere tone. "Oh that was you? I'm sorry, I thought I had a lizard tagging along for no reason!"
His legs lost their strength and failed to support him. Spike crashed into the sofa, looking towards the ground. The silence that had fell over the store let in the distant chirping of birds, to Spike they were sounding like a chorus of whistling taunts he'd hear at Ponyville Elementary. Spike relaxed his fists and looked up. The shining sun blanketed him in warmth through a skylight strategically placed to use the natural light to make the jewels in Rarity's design to shine and give out their full potential. Spike regained control of his emotions and spoke again in a calm, yet poignantly sad whisper.
"Celestia, if you have ever listened to me... Please, let this be that one time. Give me a sign, give me something to hold onto. If I stay in this store one more week I swear I'll go crazy." He clenched his chest. "I need guidance. Show me the way and I swear, I'll follow it."
The silence was cue for magic that was about to ensue.
It was not flashy, it did not come with a poof of smoke or a sudden epiphany. It was just a loud noise.
A deafening thud echoed through Carousel Boutique's walls. Followed by a loud clatter and a number of other things sprawling through the floor. Spike's first reaction was to climb the stairs, thinking the worst. Maybe somepony had crashed into the ceiling or maybe a tree branch had broken a window.
No such luck.
Spike barged into Sweetie Belle's room and saw a number of music books, a metronome and records lying the floor: Surely, she had stacked these things on top of one another. Given the open window, a gust of wind had pushed them, tumbling towards the ground. His deductive reasoning over, Spike shook his head in disapproval.
"When is this girl going to learn how to pick up after herself?" He muttered under his breath, picking up the music sheets and placing them in a neat pile over Sweetie's bed.
Suddenly, he stumbled over a familiar pattern on the pentagram. Spike looked at it intently, a strange feeling stirring up inside him. He knew this tune by heart. He bent up and picked up the white piece of paper and gave it a closer look. It was mark p for piano, a song that was meant to be soft but not too soft. Sitting on the puffed duvet, he started to hum the notes one by one.
Ta-Da-Da-Da-dum-dum-dum-dum-Ta-Da-Da-Da-dum-dum-dum-dum.
Spike's claws dug into the musical scripture, swirls of memories rushing through him like a river...
"Aw, come on Twilight! This is really annoying!!" The little dragon moaned to his caretaker. Twilight Sparkle put up the best stern face she could, like the foal upbringing book she had read suggested. "Now, Spike. You are very dexterous with those claws and you DID tell me being my assistant was really boring. So I set you up with this piano!" In front of them both was a rather tattered vertical piano from the Academy's storage.
Twilight looked at it in awe, small cracks and all. "I'm sure this piano is older than you or me, Spike. It looks it hasn't been used in ages."
"It should stay that way if you ask me." Spike snickered. Twilight simply pouted at that remark before propping up a music sheet. "Here, you'll start by playing this one. It should be easy enough."
Spike climbed on the stool and sat on it, not very pleased with the whole situation. Twilight closed in behind him and said "Now, you remember the scale, right?" Spike pointed at the lowest line in the pentagram. "Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti, Do" he said, increasing the pitch in his voice with every breath.
His teacher nodded.
"Good," She said. "now let me show you how where are the keys that go with these notes."
With her magic she pressed the keys in the piano one by one, pointing with a quill towards their written correspondent. Spike's attention was fixed on the sequence, as Twilight repeated the same steps one by one. Twilight smiled and stopped at the highest pitched note.
"Now Spike, these are just the basics. There are more kinds of notes, but I'll save those for later." Spike simply nodded, his silence a tacit understanding of genuine interest. Twilight tapped on the music sheet and said. "Now watch the quill as the notes appear and then look at the keys."
The pointy tip traced each note at the same time the hammers plucked each note inside the magical music machine. Spike's eyes darted between the sheet and the keys, trying to keep up. Twilight followed the notes slowly and repeated the same motion twice.
She stopped and asked the small dragon. "Do you wanna try?"
Spike smiled and followed Twilight the best he could. The first time, the melody came out disjointed as Spike sight darted between the keys and the sheet. By the third time, he got the first line of the music sheet perfectly. He even tried to play the music faster. With each play he mouthed the notes:
"Ta-Da-Da-Da-dum-dum-dum-dum-Ta-Da-Da-da-dum-dum-dum-dum."
Spike couldn't see it, but the purple unicorn wore a big smile from cheek to cheek.
Back in the Carousel Boutique, Spike adjusted the piano stool to an appropriate height so that his elbows were at a comfortable position to access all the keys. He was now on the ground floor, the decorative piano in front of him. The tattered music sheet was in his field of view. Through Spike's mind crossed the unfinished dress and Rarity's nagging about commitment and what not. He clenched his fist, determined to do what his instincts told him. "The stupid little dress can wait. Everypony can wait." he muttered. Spike outstretched his claws and tapped the keys slightly. Many a sigh ensued, he hadn't done this in a very long time. Not since the pie war in Appleloosa.
He tapped the center key, producing a familiar sound. Spike looked up towards the music sheet and started playing the notes. At first very slowly, lethargic even. As the notes increased in number and decreased in duration, Spike's claws danced across the keys with precision. Spike became entranced, embellished with the sound of the music he was making.
He opened his mouth and broke into song.
Soon, the sheet's scripture was moot. Spike had broken into an improvisation, sprinkling his own arrangement while keeping true to the original melody. The piano even seemed to be merry with him, as if it was gl ad to do what it was meant to do.
For a moment Spike tried to imagine Rarity wearing one of her black evening gowns propped atop of the instrument, something out of a cabaret from the old days of Manehattan. Wearing a profoundly enticing stare, smiling at him like a being that encompassed the definition of 'grace'. Pretend Rarity stroked his chin delicately with one hoof, beckoning him to play more.
The delusion continued, as Spike worked the melody more and more into a rapturous dance number. He imagined a restaurant full of fine gentlecolts and mares, all enjoying what he played for them. They looked dressed for the ocassion, donning tophats, tuxedos and long, elegant dresses. The long stylish lamp was now a particularly tall grey barman who served drinks at a slow pace just to listen to the music. Carousel Boutique's windows stopped showing the bright light of day to let Moonlight seep through the skyline of a posh streets of some big city. The walls changed from their baroque intricate designs to more geometrial and sober patterns, adding a feeling of sofistication to the place.
Everypony stopped to hear him play his music.
Spike enjoyed every single second of his fantasy, his skill weaved a simple tune into a complex and beautiful melody. Spike finished his crescendo and promptly ended the song off with a playful couple of notes. In his delusion, the gentlecolts would stomp their hooves on the ground, acknowledgement of his performance. The mares would also break into a thunderous rapture, marvelling at the unlikely maestro and his present for the evening.
Spike closed his eyes, letting the echo of their applause to fade into the nothingness from where it came. Silence settled once more in the store. Back in the real world, the store was just as empty as in the beginning.
He still had to finish a dress that, in Spike's opinion, grossly misrepresented her designer's general body of work.
He was alone.
Or so Spike thought.
"Well I say young dragon, if you keep playing like that I'm sure the poor thing will break under your claws!" It was a haughty voice, cooled down and smooth like honey. Extremely feminine and it sent Spike chills down his spine.
He quickly turned around in fright, already making up excuses for whatever the client had to complain about. His claws were shaking, fearing the mare would complain to Rarity and he'd get axed on the spot.
The mare he saw standing on the store-front wore a very smug grin, accentuated by the single raised eyebrow. She had a neatly-kept grey coat and an equally slick black mane styled atop her head with a simple curl. She had big purple eyes framed with a discreet mascara. On her neck there was a small bow-tie tied around a white collar. She was tapping her hoof impatiently, surely in a state of annoyance.
"How long have you been there, madam?" Spike asked frightfully.
"Long enough to see you play a fast impro of When the Sun Comes Marching In, young dragon." She replied with a sigh.
Spike pleaded his legs to not fail him as he stood up and walked awkwardly towards the counter. "I am so sorry to keep you waiting, madam. So terribly sorry." He apologized hurriedly.
"No, no-"she began to say.
Spike interrupted her, bellowing his greeting as he did."W-Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every dress is unique, chic and magnifique!" He flourished a gesture with his arm, only to clumsily knock over a box of pincushions. Spike hurriedly picked it up as he tried his best business smile with the grey-coated customer.
The mare couldn't help herself.
"...pfftHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Spike blushed, deeply embarrassed by the whole situation. He scratched his head, unable to justify his actions any further. For the client it was so funny she even broke into small tears of joy. Even laughing, she didn't loose a single ounce of poise and elegance. Spike saw her cutie mark: A purple G-Clef.
Spike regained his composure and asked. "So, madam? What business brings you here today?"
The mare wiped her tears off her face and replied in between giggles. "I came here for a repair on my navy blue bow-tie, have you got it?"
Spike instantly remembered the fixture. "Oh yes! I was working on it myself just two days ago!" He said earnestly. Spike dived down under the counter where a concealed shelf of finished repair works laid down. The tag on the bowtie said the repair fee was 10 bits and the client's name as well.
"Miss... Octavia?" He asked.
"Yes, yes. That would be me." She answered quite proudly.
Spike handed the bow-tie to Octavia in a plastic bag. "Here it is, miss Octavia. I had to claw-stitch the back of the bow so it wouldn't loose its shape again. If you don't force it too much it should be just fine." He informed her.
"Quite alright." Octavia said, giving Spike the gold coins.
But instead of picking up the bag and leaving right away, she just stood there looking at Spike with an intense gaze. Her deep irises bore holes in the piece of wall behind Spike's head. He smiled nervously, preparing to plead the customer not to make a complaint. They were locked in this silent staring competition until she hummed with an inquisitive tone.
"Say, what is your name young one?" Octavia asked Spike.
"The name is Spike, madam."
"Well, Spike, you need not be so formal do you?"
"I must. You're a customer of Carousel Boutique."
"Rarity hires tailors sporadically. She surely didn't have the need to hire you for your musical skills did she?"
"I'm deeply sorry you had to see that and I'm sorry I wasted your time, miss."
"Again with the miss? By Jove, you're more uptight than a violin string! Calm down, Spike. Rest assured I'm not mad at all."
Spike didn't understand that last remark.
"Excuse me... Octavia?"
The mare named Octavia smiled at the sound of her name, raising an eyebrow at the same time. Spike adjusted his vest, venting out the sweat he felt coarsing through his body.
"That is much better. Now, do you happen to know of a little pub called 'The Rabstallion'?" She asked.
Spike pondered the question. The Rabstallion was as old as Ponyville itself. He had heard of its patrons, specially Pinkie Pie who was an undefeated champion by virtue of being the fastest drinker ever. Somehow that wasn't much of a surprise. He had never entered that place, Twilight would've never allowed it.
"Yes." He answered.
Octavia stood up over the counter, surprising Spike, and managed to at him straight into his eyes. "Say, would you consider making a display of your penchant for pianos at the pub? They keep hiring awful academy dropouts and quite frankly its unpleasant to be a subject of their shortcomings."
Spike propped his head to the side, not quite sure what to think of it.
"Come tonight, Spike. I'm friends with the barkeep and he'll let you play. I'd like to listen more to what you have in store." Those last words were curled in a rather demanding but charming tone. Not waiting for the dumbstruck dragon's response, she picked her bag and walked out of the store. "9'o clock! Be there, young dragon!" Octavia shouted from outside as the door closed.
After that Spike had no other impulse but to sit down on the little stool aside the cash register. His encounter with that mare Octavia had shocked him numb. She surely knew what she was talking about, her cutie mark was proof of it. Spike nodded his head, thinking about what would Twilight say if she knew he had gone to a bar. Or 'pub', as Octavia called it.
Then another though flashed in his mind: Twilight had no authority over him any more. She was kicking him out of the Treebrary, maybe a night without him was actually what she wanted. Spike still had a handful of bits sitting around his wallet, just enough for two jars of Sweet Apple Acres cider. Spike grabbed a small mirror from the unassorted pile of things behind the counter and looked at his own reflection: The dragon who returned the stare was jaded, sad and almost defeated.
Spike frowned. He didn't like the dragon in the reflection.
"If this goes on... It'll be the end of me." Spike muttered.
The voice inside of him spoke its mind again: "Maybe this time around you'll get to star and they'll get to watch from the sidelines." Spike embraced his sudden surge of jealousy. He looked to the ceiling where the sun should be, seeking an acknowledgement from the goddesses.
Suddenly, he remembered his previous task. "THE DRESS!" He shouted. Spike darted back towards the sewing machine, pumping it up and grabbing the flowing green fabric to stitch it into place.
Just outside Ponyville's edge and the beginning of the Everfree Forest, a wooden cottage stood up over a small hill.
Dawn was about to begin, signaling all the other ponies to wrap up their activities and call it a day well spent. Not for the kindest of all ponies though. For Fluttershy, the coming of dawn meant a lot of work had to be done. Inside the cottage, the evening calls and caws of the many birds under her care filled the air with noise.
The nocturnal animals, like rodents, bats and snakes; were about to start their day. Fluttershy rumaged through her medical supply boxes, looking desperately for something while mouthing "OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod-" frantically.
Her white bunny hopped to and fro, distributing small packets of food to each of the smallest animals in treatment or simply stopping by to grab a bite. While Fluttershy dove into the box, Angel Bunny administered a ration to particularly sly convalescent racoon. Cunning as he was, the moment the white furry friend turned his back was the time for a strike. From his miniature bed, the racoon tried to snatch away another ration from under Angel's back. Fully aware of his intentions, Angel jumped further than usual. Taken by surprise, Racoon was left with an outstreched paw and a complete inbalance between him and the bed.
Gravity did the rest of Angel's dirty job.
"Ah-ha!" Fluttershy shouted softly. "I knew I still had some leftover medicine from Philomena's yearly check!"
She held in her hooves a small bottle of per oral medicine containing a special concotion for flying animal's ailments. She then flew over to the backdoor of her cootage. On her huge garden there was a small system consisting of a liquid container and little valves shaped like many appetizing flowers. They even seemed real, given the fact that the yellow pegasus had spent hours painstakingly detailed each flower herself.
Once she unscrewed the top of the container she opened five capsules from her medicine and mixed it in together with the fresh sweet-tasting water. "Ok," she said to herself. "maybe this'll work. I sure hope the hummingbirds and the other birds like this..." She squeaked, a reflex of hers everytime she acknowledged something done right by her own hoof. She cantered towards a small wooden bench propped up against the cottage's wall and sat on it.
The gusts of wind that preceeded dawn danced and played with her flowing pink hair, kickin every single strand up. The last rays of light came to the party and danced amongst the pink and yellow hues covering Fluttershy's body and mane. This small moment was the small overture for a musical that happened every week at that place.
All she needed to do now was wait.
It wasn't for long, though.
From the Everfree forest came a chours of flapping wings and open beaks. Birds of all shapes and sizes erupted from the treetrops like a massive blob of life spreading towards the evening sky, free to roam the very space they shared with pegasi and other creatures. An explosion of increasingly darkened colours spread away, some of them diving towards Fluttershy's yard. They were all singing to their own tune. Whether they were mating calls or simple chanting, the birds sang their lungs out as they flew into the night.
Fluttershy, still nested in the comfort of her bench, opened her mouth and let out a single tune: A high pitched note, powerful enough to resonate in the forest's trees. Giving the usually quiet demeanour of her voice, the loud note produced from her throat was surprising to say the least. Fluttershy sustained the note without fail, waiting for its effects to change the behaviour of the birds right above her.
Within moments, the birds didn't fly in a scrambled groups. They started to line up in the sky and fly one after the other. Not to be surprised by this turn of events, Fluttershy paused and sang the same note. Just an octave higher. Should the music-savvy know what it sounded like, Fluttershy was emmiting the sound corresponding to a tuning fork.
A shorter moment later, the birds broke in melody to accompany their mistress.
Every single bird, no matter the size or colours, sang with Fluttershy. One by one, they reached Fluttershy's tune. The parrakeets, the bluebirds, the red robins, the cranes and all of the other birds. Even an eagle high up above all cawed in the same tune within a lower octave. Fluttershy had called upon an orchestra formed by nature herself.The spectacle lasted only the blink of an eye.
After that, the birds resumed their flying. Just a few perched atop of Fluttershy's bird feeder, recieving the selfless care of the meek and eerily beautiful mare. She got up and trotted back to her cottage, eyeing with glee one last time her winged darlings before returning to her other duties.
This spectacle, seen by nopony else, was not meant to be kept hidden. In time, Fluttershy's time in the sun would come forth.