The Seventh Star

by Mr Page

PART I

The sun gleamed brightly in the blue sky and all under its rays rejoiced. Equestria's newest princess had just been crowned and throughout the land, people were celebrating. None, however, compared to those in Canterlot.
An hour had passed since the coronation began and of the many who attended the regal event and went to celebrate outside, only one had retreated back into the building from where it all started.
The majestic Ceremonial Hall, adorned with pillars, candles, and an open balcony, laid quiet except for a few cheerless sighs from its sole visitor, seated on the top step of the Hall’s podium. His tiny purple claws were clasped together, resting on his small knees. His scaly head was bowed and his green eyes were closed.
After what had been a long, strenuous period of thoughts spinning and repeating, the small creature turned his head to look at a particular spot on the podium.
Not too very long ago — only a few months, in fact — he had stood in that spot for a wedding and played the role of ring bearer. Regardless of the frightful changeling invasion that preceded it, the wedding ended up being a cheerful one, one he had been happy and honored to be part of.
How intriguing that, not too long after, he would return to stand in the same spot for another grand occasion — this time for a coronation to bestow a crown. Another great honor, a once-in-a-lifetime event that he, again, was thankful to attend and, above all, be included.
Like the wedding, it was an event he knew he would always remember. Unlike the wedding, his emotions that followed the coronation were, unfortunately, quite different.
Spike let out another sigh and turned to stare back down the few steps on which he sat. Looking ahead down the long, empty hall, his thoughts swam with the painful facts he couldn’t force away. Like hot pins they seemed to poke him all over, reminding him in little snide whispers. All he could do about it was close his eyes, trying and failing to fight the anguish of the awful truth.
‘Twilight . . .’

It was still hard to believe. Twilight Sparkle, his best friend since he hatched, his mentor to the pony way, had grown and risen to the title of Princess. To say Spike felt unhappy about this wasn’t true. Spike was very proud of Twilight, and hopeful for her. She had proven herself, gained a spot in royalty, and achieved her destiny — all in the course of one day. Now an alicorn, and a princess to boot, the entire world awaited her and the amazing future she would undoubtedly bring.
She had earned it, totally and completely. In Spike’s green eyes, no pony was more worthy of the status or destiny than Twilight. Sadly, though, Spike couldn’t ignore what all of this meant for himself.
He hadn’t realized it at first, but then, how could he have? He had been too caught up in the glorious moment, same as everypony else.
When he saw Twilight float down from the night sky and onto the grounds of Ponyville with her new wings, Spike was, at first, speechless. But as the image sank in, excitement took him. He began imagining himself and Twilight flying across Equestria, having loads of new adventures and all sorts of tasks to complete together. A whole world of new, exciting possibilities were now open to them. During that moment, when he, Celestia, and his friends gave the new princess her first bow of respect, Spike couldn’t have felt happier.
The morning came and, as everypony waited in Canterlot’s Ceremonial Hall, elegantly dressed for the momentous occasion, Spike felt an odd scratchy feeling in his chest. At first he thought it came from the task Princess Celestia had granted him of handing Twilight her crown: a tiny, silly fear that he might trip or drop the crown or do some other embarrassing thing. Quite easily, Spike ignored it.
The doors of the Hall opened and Twilight entered, wearing a beautiful dress of gold and pink. Again Spike felt the twinge, but again it dissipated quickly. His heart grew light as his best friend walked closer, accompanied by song and banners bearing her cutie mark. He raised the cushion and watched the crown magically raise up and place itself on Twilight’s head. Then, as she walked out onto the balcony with Princess Celestia and Luna, Spike’s heart thudded — this time heavily.
Standing where he was, Spike could hear Twilight’s speech of acceptance and gratitude. Yet . . . for some reason, Twilight seemed farther away than she really was.
Spike remembered shaking his head at this, thinking himself silly. Twilight was right in front of him, plain as day, coated in the balcony’s sunlight and surrounded by her friends and the two princesses. She wasn’t far away; he could see her plainly. So why. . . ? He shook his head again.
Wanting to stand beside her, to be amongst the group, Spike raised his foot to go and join them, but the ponies had already turned around and were coming back. Seizing the chance, he joined Twilight and their friends outside as they sang through the streets of Canterlot, stating that everything was “certainly fine”.
In that moment — that wonderful instant when they were all together — everything truly was.
But then, as Twilight flew off into the sky for the very first time, leaving the ground she had once been confined to walk, Spike’s chest ached in genuine, and slowly, his smile faded. The thoughts that had been scraping at his heart had now fully torn through, and the farther Twilight flew, the more Spike became aware of it.
He pulled away from his friends, and not one pony turned their heads as he walked back to the building alone. They were all too busy staring up in amazement at Twilight’s spectacle, and he couldn’t blame them. It was incredible; truly it was. But for him, it was also upsetting. What was supposed to be a wonderful sight, Twilight’s shining moment, became, instead, a horrible realization which dawned on Spike like a dark oncoming storm.

Could it really have all just been an hour ago? The Ceremonial Hall had been filled with praise, cheer, and music. Now it stood empty and silent, resting like a sepulcher.
Seated, motionless except for his downcast eyes, Spike tried forcing his mind to hear those sounds again: the cheering, the voices, the happy admiration of his friends. But no matter how he tried, the same images kept appearing: Twilight, her crown, her destiny, and the truth of it all, humming through Spike’s mind like a mournful dirge.
It couldn’t be ignored: the rank Twilight obtained for herself was one where Spike did not belong — her destiny, one he could not be part of. Now that she was royalty, dozens of brand new assistants will surely answer Twilight’s every beck and call, providing all the help she would ever need. Although Spike desperately wished his mind would fabricate some sort of hope, even a small one, he just couldn’t see any reason why Twilight would want him as her one and only assistant anymore, not when there were so many more experienced ponies to do the job.
She was a princess now and deserved the best — the very best — and he, sadly, was simply Spike. How could he ever be worthy of serving a princess?
Gripping his knees, he closed his eyes and tried thinking ahead, clawing for some idea on what would happen next.
Would it happen in a few days time? Will it be sprung on him like a surprise, just like Twilight's wings?
Where was he going to go? Even if Spike were to stay in Ponyville or Canterlot or whatever place would have him, what would he do, what new role could he possibly play? Who would he belong with? Twilight had always been the center of everypony's attention, from their best friends to Equestria’s princesses. And he? Out of all of them, great and wonderful, what was he? What had he ever been? A little helper? A measly tagalong in what was already a complete group? Since when had Twilight ever really needed him when she had her five friends or Princess Celestia?
Tears began to surge behind Spike's tightly shut eyes. It was with pain that he kept them from escaping.
Stinging from his denied tears, Spike glanced down the beautiful hallway, its elegant columns and arched windows a master’s work, all dedicated for the great princesses who reside in these walls.
He turned his sight toward the windows. Outside, the graceful towers of Canterlot Castle rose and fell, reminding Spike how much bigger the whole palace was compared to this one small building.
Spike stared at the great castle with gloom. There was no place for him there anymore. Despite over the years that Princess Celestia had always lovingly welcomed him in her castle, Spike couldn't be fooled. His admittance had always hinged on his role to Twilight, the sparkling star of Celestia's kingdom who had grown and now shined across the world. He, in contrast, had merely served as Twilight's entrance exam and grew up learning to help whenever she needed it. A student's assistant and nothing more. . . .
But Spike didn’t regret this. He never had any frustration in aiding Twilight. He had been happy to have the role, proud. Some ponies might’ve viewed his job as being little more than a miniature butler, but not he, not Spike. Being with Twilight, to help her, was all he wanted since before he could think, because those were his first happy moments, the first kind of happiness he remembered. Growing up, Spike had learned to assist so that those moments would continue, whether it was helping Twilight hone her spell casting, marking things off her lengthy checklists, or even just picking up the open library books she had finished reading.
Twilight’s smile and gratitude became Spike’s motivation, his greatest reward as an assistant. Sweets were fine and gems delicious, but it was the appreciation of his deeds that went deepest. To hear Twilight say “thank you” for all he did was a treasure all its own, a treasure only Spike knew, because they were his, and his alone.
‘So what now?’ Spike thought miserably. With Twilight as a princess and new assistants on the way, how will he go on, knowing he’ll never see or hear his greatest reward again?
Spike couldn't bear sitting any longer; if he did, he felt he might never have the strength to stand again. He got to his feet and, with stiff legs, he descended the few steps and started down the quiet Ceremonial Hall.
He moved slowly, taking in every resounding footstep, beginning what felt like his final walk.

After exiting the Hall and descending a small flight of stairs, Spike entered a new hallway little different than the one he just left. It was very similar in design: marble columns standing tall and elegant, flowering plants flourishing beautifully on the wall’s ledges, and the size of the hall (thanks to Spike’s current state) seemingly a mile in length. The main difference was that this hall was mostly shaded. Practically all the ceiling-high windows had heavy velvet curtains drawn, all except for three in which the sunlight poured through.
Spike stared ahead down the shadowy stretch. The hall was completely deserted. Most of the guards and other servants were probably still outside with the guests, cheering in their new princess. Spike let out a sigh and it echoed deep and heavily around the empty passage. He waited until it went silent, then started down the hall.
Spike had taken only a few steps when something on the floor caught his notice, right where the sunlight was touching the ground. Curious, he jogged forward and stopped at the edge where the light from the first window left a clear, colored image on the red carpet.
Spike looked up and his heart eased a little from its pain. Etched in the stained glass were seven ponies. Six were in the lower panel: two unicorns, two pegasi, and two earth ponies. Each was emitting a bright beam of light, directed at the large, dark alicorn above, cloaked in menacing armor.
It was the commemorative window to Twilight and her friends, the new Elements of Harmony, defeating Nightmare Moon.
Spike remembered back to that first day in Ponyville. He had slept through the whole incident. Regardless of the threat that had been made, his baby dragon nature had prevented him from staying up.
What would the results have been, he wondered, if he had had the strength to stay awake through that fateful night? Would he have made any difference? Would there be a little dragon standing next to the purple unicorn in the stained glass?
Spike grimaced, despising himself for thinking this. Any additional image would ruin the window’s symmetry and be a distraction.
The glass was the way it was suppose to be: Twilight and her five best friends. Just the six of them, like it has always been. . . .
With his heart aching again, Spike resumed his walking. Passing under it, the ponies from the stained glass washed over him like a waterfall of color. They were wonderfully warm. Or . . . perhaps it was just the sunlight.
Spike stopped and looked down to the red carpet again. Not far from where the first was, another image shone on the floor with extremely similar patterns. Turning to the face the opposite wall, Spike looked up. There, in the hall’s second exposed window, were the same six ponies. This time, in place of Nightmare Moon, there was what looked like a sea serpent made from the parts of several different creatures.
‘Discord’, Spike thought. Another commemoration to the six great ponies: defeating the Spirit of Chaos, saving Equestria from endless disorder, and proving just how unbreakable and beloved their friendship is. Again, there was no seventh member, no additional friend amongst the group. Spike couldn’t help it this time; a neglected jealousy growled in his center. A second later, he bowed his head, feeling childish.
Spike knew there was nothing he could’ve done to help; he wasn’t a wielder of the Elements of Harmony. Despite how much loyalty he has for Twilight and their friends, he just doesn't embody Loyalty like Rainbow Dash, and so the Element didn’t work in the short minute he had it on. The only help he really gave Twilight was getting the book with the Elements away from their corrupted friends — a two-on-four game of keep-away.
‘Yeah . . . you were very heroic there’, Spike thought sarcastically.
Without a second look, he turned away from the window.
Back in the more shaded part of the hall, Spike continued towards the door at the far end. His sight was fixed down on the long expanse of red carpet, the six ponies still stuck in the back of his eyes.
Then, having walked a short distance, Spike came to a halt. He lowered his eyebrows and squinted at the floor.
‘What the —’
At his feet, the color from the previous two windows seemed to manifest on the ground. But how? They were behind him, he had already passed their cast images. And more importantly, why was he . . .
He looked up and his heart seemed to stagger, his breath fallen short. He had forgotten about the third window.
Spike stared at it. He was there. Surrounded by brilliant blue glass, his arms were held outstretched, reaching for the blue heart at the window’s center. Above the heart’s bright glow was Cadence, Princess of the Crystal Empire.
Spike took in every corner of the huge window and, as he did, his spirits lifted and his memory reeled back.
Shortly after the return from the Crystal Empire, and before she had spoken to Twilight, Princess Celestia had called Spike in to show him the newly fashioned window. The baby dragon could hardly believe the work of art; he had never before achieved anything like this. He was just about to hop in happiness when, with no warning, Celestia nuzzled his cheek.
‘I’m so proud of you, Spike,’ she had said tenderly. ‘Twilight is so fortunate to have a friend like you.’
Spike remembered hugging Celestia in return, saying he was grateful, for the window, for her kind words.
But then Spike’s mind shot back to the present, and slowly, his happy attitude began to diminish. The window was beautiful, yes, and Spike’s image at the bottom represented him boldly, surrounded in that large blue circle. But there was no Twilight at the bottom, nor any of his other friends with him, and the baby dragon suddenly felt as lifeless as the huge glass image of himself.
Now that Spike thought about it, what was there for Celestia or anypony to be proud of? All he did back at the Crystal Empire was bring the Crystal Heart to the fair, given the privilege only because Twilight wasn’t able to do it herself. Other than that, what noteworthy thing had he done? It was Cadence who released the Empire’s magic, she and the Crystal Ponies who powered the Heart, expelling the dark magic King Sombra thrived off of. What was he, Spike, to thank for?
Sure, he played a role in saving the day, but it was little more than being a delivery boy. He would’ve died if Cadence hadn’t caught him as he fell through the air. The Empire would've fallen if not for Twilight’s brilliance and the Crystal Ponies’ raised spirits. So why did Princess Celestia commemorate him for another’s triumph? Why wasn’t Cadence and the Crystal Ponies reaching for the Heart, together as a group instead of the baby dragon doing it all alone?
But then Spike remembered. It hadn’t really been about him or the others. It had been about Twilight, tested in reviving the Empire and lifting the danger Sombra presented. Granted, she hadn’t totally followed Celestia’s wishes, but she had, nevertheless, succeeded. Twilight had made the right choice, choosing the safety and good of others over her own need to be a top-notch student. Noble and unselfish, she passed the job of delivering the Crystal Heart onto Spike, and, as a result, saved the Crystal Empire.
He had only served a tiny part in the equation, a mere thread in compared to the grand design. . . .
Spike’s eyes began to sting again. Twilight was the one who should be displayed on the window. She was the far greater of the two. Although, now that he thought of it, it wouldn’t match her new status. She sat atop the highest pedestal now, was above stained glass windows, far and beyond being remembered simply for saving a kingdom or defeating tyrants.
Feeling smaller than he was, Spike turned away from the tall gleaming picture of himself and within moments, reached the door at the hall’s end.
Moving down the shaded stairwell, Spike quickly forgot about the stained glass windows. The hallway he had left had been a marvelous distraction for his aching heart, but now he was back on track, heading towards the end.
‘Almost there . . .’ he thought with dread.
Spike was hardly aware of his own walking. He was too preoccupied on his current state: still in Twilight's service, still her Number One Assistant. This time that remained . . . it felt so precious, more valuable than it had in all his years in Twilight’s employ. How strange that he had never appreciated his job like he did now. Granted, there was that time he thought he lost it to Owlowiscious, but on that occasion he had simply overreacted. This, on the other hoof, was real and coming close to being final.
All those times Spike complained about cleaning up messes and ink spills, those moments when he had to stack and alphabetize books, the long days when he didn't feel like working. . . . What had he been doing, not realizing how fortunate he was? He had a job, a home, friends, somepony by his side. Soon there won’t be anything left except the memory of it all, and the dark unknown which lay ahead.
Spike only prayed that Twilight will, at least, remember him, and that her new assistants show her all the affection she deserves.
'She deserves the best,' he thought, trying to imagine who those lucky ones might be. . . .

He arrived at the bottom stair.
Slowly, Spike crossed into the final corridor and stopped to look ahead. Though he stood a good distance from the building’s entrance, he could hear the cheering beyond the three open doors. It sounded so happy, so filled with life. . . .
Spike forced his legs to move. He must do it, he must face the end of his service, the end of his and Twilight’s. . . .
Step after step, the three doorways seemed to grow larger as he drew nearer, their frames separating the empty, shadowy foyer from the sunny, cheerful outside.
Spike stopped and stole a moment to breathe. The light from the doorway stung his eyes, clouded from the shaded halls he had walked through. His heart was pounding and his throat seemed to constrict. He was footsteps away now.
‘I have to,’ Spike thought to himself, his mouth dry and eyes stinging. ‘I want . . . I want to look at her one last . . .’
It was so hard to move. Is this what being made of stone felt like?
Glaring down at the floor, Spike’s claws curled into fists. Biting his lip, he growled inwardly at himself. This was no time to hesitate; this could very well be his last chance. Though he had no idea what he would do when he got there, and was, he could not lie, frightened, Spike knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t get one last look.
Inhaling, he let out a deep, quaking breath and, with all the force he could muster, Spike pushed himself forth through the doorway and out of the shade.