It had been several months since Lucky had been found dead in his apartment, and Celestia hadn't sent Spike any square scraps of paper since. That wasn't unprecedented; sometimes he just wasn't needed. However, after the way his last mission had turned out, he couldn't help but worry a little that she was displeased with him.
The break had actually been somewhat welcome after the way the last mission had turned out. The doubts he had experienced left him unable to sleep soundly, but the sheer physical and mental stress of such a narrow escape also took their toll. His recovery had been slow, partially due to his fitful sleep, but he was finally feeling back to his old self.
It was during one of these fitful bouts of sleep when he was roused from his dreams by the pressure rising in his gullet. He sat up from his place at the foot of Twilight's bed, but the time that it took the feeling to wake him left him unable to reach the bathroom. He bent over and burped into his hands, hoping that he could muffle the sound enough that Twilight wouldn't wake up.
He managed to secure the scrap of paper, but Twilight stirred against her sheets. "Spike, are you alright?" she asked sleepily. "Did you get a letter?"
"No," Spike lied, tucking the paper between him and his bed. "Just gas."
Twilight chuckled, still clearly half-asleep. "Gross," she murmured. "You alright now?"
"Y-" Spike started, but changed his mind. "Actually, I think I'll step into the bathroom for a sec."
The mare didn't really respond, just made a low noise into her pillow before passing out again.
Spike shook his head as he walked to the bathroom. A short puff of breath lit the candle, his green flame melting into orange as the wick caught. He checked the door to make sure it was closed, and then spread the paper out in the pool of light shed by the small flame.
The number was large. Very large. Larger than any number he had ever received. But it wasn't the number than concerned him, it was the place. Scrawled on the piece of paper in that carefully unrecognizable script was the word Ponyville.
Now that Spike thought about it, this day had to come eventually, but it had never occurred to him. Everyone in Ponyville was so... nice. So innocent. He thought about somepony in the small town needing his attention, but he couldn't quite make the concept fit in his head.
Whatever the reason, he couldn't go into this blind. Without even really thinking about what he was doing, he grabbed a quill from the counter (Twilight liked to have them in every room in the house) and brought it down to the paper. "Who?" he wrote underneath the town's name, and incinerated the parchment.
His stomach began to do backflips as soon as the paper was gone, but luckily he didn't have to wait long. The reply came as the original message arrived, a rising in his gullet. A burp and a catch later, Spike was reading the answer, written in the same style as the rest of the note.
His eyes widened as he read the response, and he flipped it over again. "We need to talk," he wrote angrily. "Cart here in an hour." He sent the message.
"Yes," was the response, just as careful and composed as every other part. It made the anger in his hurried writing apparent by comparison. Spike held the corner of the sheet to the candle, burning it to destroy it rather than transmit it. It smouldered and caught, much slower than his own flames. The paper burned and turned to ash between his fingers, the heat unfelt through scales that could withstand lava.
As if the paper was mocking him, the last thing to burn was the name "Rainbow Dash."
The pegasus in front of the cart yawned, clearly woken from his sleep judging by the state of his mane. "Evening," he told Spike, and then glanced up at the moon. "Or rather, morning."
Spike stormed past him silently, lacking the bag he usually brought. He had nothing to carry, and besides, it wasn't in its usual place beside the door.
If all went well, he'd be back before Twilight awoke. If he wasn't... well, he'd left two notes. One, pinned to the door, told her that he'd gone out for a walk. He'd stuck the other in the bottom of the icebox. When she cleaned it out next - which she did at the end of every month, like clockwork - she'd find a longer note apologizing for his absence and saying he'd gone to live with other dragons.
The first was in case he was delayed. The second was in case he... Well, it was just in case. He didn't want to think about the situation that would necessitate that note, but he couldn't leave her wondering.
As he sat on the bench in the back of the wagon, his feet knocked against something wooden under the seat. Curious, he reached down and pulled out a familiar wooden case. He raised an eyebrow, confused, before flipping the latches and opening it.
Instead of the folder he usually saw, a single sheet of paper lay before him. In the exact center, written in the same looping script as the note he had seen all those months ago, was written "From a friend."
He moved the paper aside and found the gun sitting underneath, lying on a bed of folded fabric. He lifted it and checked the safety, purely out of habit. The weight of the weapon felt comforting in his claw.
With his other claw, he pulled out the folded fabric. A chill ran down his spine as he recognized his satchel. Whoever had left him this had been in his house. Spike couldn't shake the feeling that the bag's presence was meant as a subtle threat.
But why enclose a weapon with a threat?
Spike was jerked from his thoughts with the feeling of the carriage setting down. "We're here. Palace," one of the guards said. "Get out so I can go back to bed."
Spike's claws clicked against the marble floors of the palace, bouncing between the pillars echoing back at him. With each click, his heart beat a little faster. The guards that usually stood at every doorway and corner were conspicuous in their absence, an absence that became only more obvious when he arrived at the throne room.
To Spike's relief, Celestia sat in her usual place on the throne. She stepped down upon seeing him, a gentle smile on her face. "Hello Spike," she said in her usual soft tones. "What seems to be the problem?"
Spike, still standing in the doorway, glanced up and down the hallway. It was empty, but he still spoke in hushed tones. "Rainbow Dash doesn't need to... she doesn't need my services," he said, shying away from the terminal word in favor of a euphemism. "She's never said anything bad about Equestria."
"I'm afraid that that's not the problem," Celestia said, stopping her approach about ten feet from Spike. "You are familiar with Dash's particular talent? An ability previously assumed to be mythical."
"The Sonic Rainboom," Spike replied impatiently. "So?"
"So although it is quite a beautiful sight, it is also a tool of horrendous destruction when used properly," Celestia said, her voice hardening slightly. "Or rather, when used improperly," she amended. "I'm afraid that such a thing cannot be left in the hooves of a resident of Equestria."
"But, but..." Spike stammered. He couldn't believe what Celestia was saying, and suddenly this all felt like a test. "But she's the Element of Loyalty!"
The smile was slowly but surely falling off of Celestia's face. "The Element will find a new bearer," she said simply.
Spike paused momentarily. "That's not what I meant! She's the Element of Loyalty. If anypony can be trusted with this power-"
"That is the point Spike, nopony can." All the warmth had fled from Celestia's voice. "Besides, a source of mine - a source I trust very much - has informed me that Rainbow Dash is planning to use her power against Equestria and against me."
"Who!?" Spike asked, not realizing he had begun to yell.
"Inside voice, Spike," Celestia said, the matronly tones returning to her voice for a moment. "I promised I would not reveal that. However, I believe him or her. He or she is in a privileged position to know."
Spike's face twisted in mental anguish as he tried in vain to rebut the Princess's argument. No words came to him, and he found tears pooling in the bottom of his eyes.
"Can you do this Spike?" Celestia asked, kindly again. Her voice reminded Spike of his very early childhood.
"I- I-" Spike choked on emotion, and then stopped. He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "No. No, I can't."
Celestia nodded. "I understand. The bonds of friendship are a powerful thing. Now, Spike, this is very important. If I told you I was going to hire somepony else, would you be able to allow it to happen?" Her voice remained kind, but there was a hint of steel under the last few words.
Spike pressed his lips together into a tight line, and allowed his hand to sink into his satchel as casually as he could. He blinked away the tears and cleared his vision. "No, Princess," he answered in a dry whisper. "I don't think I could allow that."
The dragon and the mare shared a long, hard look. Celestia's eyes flickered to the claw resting in the satchel. Spike flicked the safety off. Celestia's ear twitched, and her eyes made contact with Spike's. Afterwards, neither could have said who reacted first. It seemed they both moved at the same time.
Celestia's horn burst into light, shielding her behind a globe of incandescent power. At the same time, she released a blast of concentrated sunlight, the blazing heat lighting the wood of the doors on fire without even touching them.
Meanwhile, Spike threw himself to the side, diving for the momentary safety of the wall. His hand came flying out of his satchel, pistol gripped in shaking claws, and a single shot rang out. The bullet ricocheted off Celestia's shield, and he dived out of the path of her bolt. The beam came within a few inches of his side, and he knew that if he had been a pony, the right half of his body would have been vaporized. As it was, he felt the pain of a burn for the first time, and knew he couldn't withstand a direct hit from such a spell.
As he rolled out of the doorway, he kicked the large wooden doors shut. The moment of safety it bought was enough to get to the shadows behind a pillar. A moment later, the door burst into splinters with an explosive roar.
"Spike, come back here," Celestia said in a cold, emotionless voice. "You're just prolonging it. Do you really think you can hide from me in my own castle?" she started to step in the direction Spike had gone.
Spike held his breath in panic, pressing his back into the marble pillar as if trying to meld his flesh into the stone. If he could hide here until she passed, maybe he could get out of the castle. Go back home, and... what? Tell Twilight? She'd never believe him. Protect Rainbow? He couldn't even get to her house without Twilight's help. Maybe he could just run away. Go to Manehatten, disappear in the-
Abruptly, some back part of Spike's brain jerked him out of his hurried train of thought. The way Celestia was walking, in a few seconds the light blazing off her would strip away the shadows and reveal him. That would be it. Her shield had receded, but their first confrontation showed that she could bring it up in time to block his shot. And then she'd kill him, turn him into a wisp of dragon vapor.
"I'm still willing to give you another chance," Celestia said, talking as she slowly stalked the hall. "Throw down the gun, come out with your claws up, and you can still go home tonight."
Every part of Spike's brain screamed at him to do what she said, but he knew he couldn't. Even if Celestia did let him go (and he couldn't imagine why she would), he still couldn't allow Rainbow to die. Better to die here. That might not be part of the Dragon's code as written, but it certainly seemed like it should be.
The light crept across the floor, getting closer and closer, and Spike pressed even closer against the pillar. Once he couldn't move any more, he watched the edge of the light slide towards his foot. The light hit the outer claw, and he could feel the heat on the side of his face. He turned his head to see Celestia staring directly at him, stopped in her tracks. They made eye contact.
And then she kept walking.
Spike had to stop himself from gasping in shock. Somehow she hadn't seen him. Somehow he was luckier than he ever thought possible. The light had been on him, he had looked her in the eyes, and she had kept walking.
Not that his problems were over. He was still trapped in this hallway with her, and there was no way he would get that lucky twice. He couldn't sneak out; the sound of his claws on the marble would betray him in a second. He edged around the pillar until he could see the back of her retreating head. The weight of the pistol made itself known in his hand, and without thinking about it, he leveled it with the back of her head.
The decision had been made for him. He knew what had to be done. He had flicked the safety off in preparation for his first shot, so even that last obstacle wasn't an issue. All he had to do was pull the trigger.
Too late, he realized that his training had taken over and he was exhaling out his nose. The noise was subtle and quiet, but Celestia's hearing was unparalleled. The world slipped into slow-motion as Celestia's ear twitched and Spike pulled the trigger.
Celestia began to turn and her horn lit up. The gun kicked in Spike's hand and the bullet left the muzzle, speeding towards the back of Celestia's head. It would reach her before she turned, but that wasn't the issue.
Out of the alicorn's horn burst the beginnings of her shield, spreading out from the ivory spike and wrapping around to cover the rest of her body. Spike could see the blazing shell arc through the air, moving to block the bullet's path. If it reached the back of her head before the bullet did, this would be the end for Spike.
It didn't.
For all of Celestia's power, for all of her posturing and royal blood, despite being a physical demigod that could cause the sun to dance at a whim, she died very much any other pony. A red hole appeared in the back of her head, and it kicked forwards. The shield collapsed instantly, and a red spray appeared on the pillar opposite. She fell to the ground, the tumbling movement the only non-graceful thing Spike had ever seen her do.
The world snapped back into focus, and Spike felt the nervous tension flow out of his body. He was alive, and she was not. The moment of relief was not long, as he realized what exactly he'd just done.
"Oh no," he said, arms collapsing to his side, limp as noodles. If it weren't for the claw caught in the trigger guard, he would have dropped the gun. He stepped back from the corpse, breathing heavily. "Oh no oh no oh no."
"No need to panic," a low, quiet voice said behind him.
Spike screamed and turned to the voice, shoving the gun behind his back in a vain attempt to hide it. Too late, he realized that a better course would have been to aim it at the dark blue mare he found standing in front of him.
"Hello Spike," Princess Luna said, a small smile on her face.
"I- I-" Spike looked back at the corpse to make sure it was actually there, and then back at Luna. "I had to! I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine Spike," Luna reassured him. "I saw the entire thing, you had no choice. Now, if you'll excuse me," she stepped past Spike, the dragon swiveling to face her as she walked. "I've arranged for all the guards to be gone at the moment, but they won't be for long." She concentrated momentarily, and strands of darkness erupted from her horn and wrapped the older sister in black ribbons. Strip after strip of the white coat disappeared, and when she was fully covered, the lumpy form soaked into the ground and was gone. The hallway was left squeaky clean, as if nothing had ever happened.
"But that won't fix it!" Spike objected. "The Princess is gone! Ponies are going to ask questions, and the guard will tell them he flew me here, and they'll all realize what happened and..." Spike bent over and leaned on his knees, staring at the floor as he hyperventilated.
"Spike, look at me," Princess Celestia said.
Spike's head flew up, and he saw the living, breathing form of the Princess of the Day standing in front of him. Her smile was gentle and calm.
He screamed again and brought the gun to bear, but the mare's face dissolved in a swirl of shadow.
"No, Spike, it's me!" Luna cried, her face revealed underneath her older sister's. "As the Princess of the Night, illusions are my forté. I can rule as my sister, at least until Equestria is ready for a new leader. Nopony will ever know what happened."
Spike stared at her, face blank. This was all moving too quickly for the young dragon. "But... aren't you mad I killed your sister?" he asked, just one of a thousand questions swirling in his head.
Luna frowned back at him, the illusion around her dissolving completely. "I am upset, of course. I love my sister. But she has... changed, over the thousand years I was gone. She has become more and more controlling, less and less tolerant of dissenting opinion. Something you are in a special position to know," she added.
Spike nodded slowly, thinking of Lucky, and her plans for Rainbow Dash.
"I've known I had to remove her for a year now, but I couldn't move against her directly. I didn't have the power, after my imprisonment. So thank you Spike. For doing what I couldn't," she gave him a warm smile.
Spike forced himself to smile back at her. It wasn't easy, but he did begin to feel a little better.
Luna somehow produced a piece of parchment and a quill, and scribbled out a quick note. She handed it to Spike, who took it with one claw while shoving the gun back in her bag with the other. "Take this to the guard outside," she said. "He'll organize a carriage to take you home."
Spike looked down at the note and its soft looping script. His heart froze.
The notes had been from Luna. That writing was unmistakable. She had introduced that doubt into his heart, and given him the weapon. He looked up at her, and the warm smile she was still wearing now contrasted with a coldness in her eyes.
Luna had been the source on Rainbow Dash too. It was the only thing that made sense. She could see into pony's dreams, know what they were thinking. Celestia would trust her if she said a pony had plans to harm Equestria. You can't lie to your dreams.
Luna was no better than Celestia. If anything, she was worse. The claw in his bag tightened around the gun, finger slipping into the trigger guard.
He felt the safety click on under his thumb. Luna's horn hadn't lit up, but Spike was sure he hadn't done that himself. He knew, then and there, that he couldn't defeat the younger sister. He had only managed to defeat the older with Luna's help - it was obvious now that she had hidden him from Celestia's sight - and although she may have lacked Celestia's sheer power, she certainly had enough to take him apart.
"On second thought, I'll walk you," Luna said, nodding in the direction of the door.
Spike swallowed with a dry throat, unable to talk. He walked in the direction she indicated, and the mare walked beside him.
"Do you know anything about bee's, Spike?" Luna asked, her voice calm and friendly.
"No Princess," Spike said quietly.
"No need for such formality," Luna said with a smile. "I think we're a little beyond that, don't you?"
"Of course Luna."
"That's better," she said. "Anyway, I'm told a hive can only have one queen. If there is ever more than one queen in a hive - either because one arrives from somewhere else, or a new one is born - and neither queen will leave, the two queens will fight to the death."
Spike walked on in silence as the mare lectured on.
"The fight in plain view of their subjects, but none of them interfere. Finally, whichever wins kills the other and takes over the hive. If the new queen is the winner, most bees will begin to serve her immediately. However, inevitably, a few will remain loyal to the old queen."
"What happens to them?" Spike asked quietly.
"She kills them of course," Luna said cheerfully.
"...Can I ask what your point is?"
Luna looked down at him, appearing confused. "No point Spike. I was merely speaking with the royal beekeeper earlier, and I thought it was interesting." She smiled happily. "I thought you might want to share it with Twilight."
Spike felt a shiver go down his spine at the mention of Twilight. There was nothing strange about the sentence, but something about the way the mare said it made it feel like a threat.
Luna nodded in the direction of a nearby guard, who saluted her. "Now off you go."
Spike walked towards the guard, body and mind numb from the adrenaline crash.
"Oh, and Spike?" Luna called after him.
Spike slowly turned to face her.
"I may have some work for you in the future. I trust I can rely on you?" she asked, voice innocent of any wrongdoing.
Spike nodded, once. "That's what I'm here for."
"Wonderful," she replied. "I'll be in touch."
Spike stepped into the carriage the guard led him too, and again felt his heel hit something wooden. He reached under and found the case. This was the same carriage he'd arrived in.
He flicked it open and found the From a friend note sitting inside, in what he now recognized as Luna's writing, He reached into his bag and retrieved the pistol and placed it in the case. It looked oddly solid, black metal contrasted against the light tan of the parchment.
He was about to close the case and place it back under the seat, when he reconsidered. He wrapped a claw around the barrel, checked the safety, and placed it gently back into his bag. He didn't know what Luna's reign would bring, but he did know he'd feel safer with this under his pillow.