~ ~ ~ PART III ~ ~ ~
The baby dragon raised his tear-soaked face from his knees and turned to the open doorway. There, standing in her dress and crown, illuminated by the sunlight from the window — a soft, sad look on her face — was Twilight.
“Spike?” she repeated. “What’s wrong?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Silently, he scolded himself. Fate was being kind enough to grant him one final talk with Twilight, and he didn’t even have the strength to form words.
Spike’s green eyes fixed on the violet ones like they were the last trace of light he’d ever see. From their depths, he found the strength to speak, albeit in a frail tone.
“Hi, Twilight. . . .” It was all Spike could think of saying. Nothing else seemed to matter.
Twilight stepped into the small, soundless space, closer to Spike. Then she stopped and the two of them were feet away from each other.
Spike turned away to look outside the window. Not far down, dozens of ponies continued to party in the sunlight, too absorbed by their own delight to bother looking up and see him sitting there. Or . . . perhaps they couldn’t see him from where they were. . . . Perhaps he had hidden himself too well. . . .
From behind, Twilight spoke gently. “Spike, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you outside with everypony else?”
Though it hurt to do so, Spike turned back to look at her. Concern flooded Twilight’s face and from it the baby dragon felt another pang of hurt, this time from guilt. He hated seeing Twilight look sad.
With difficulty, he answered, “I . . . I just . . . didn’t want to bother you or anypony else.”
“Spike . . . why would you think something like that? You could never be a bother to me. You’re my friend.”
The words were so endearing that Spike thought he would die from them. His tears were coming again, and yet he managed to smile.
“And you’re my best friend,” Spike said, his voice cracking. “You know that. Right, Twilight?”
She gave a small smile. “Of course.”
“And . . . will you remember me?”
Twilight’s smile fell. Her eyes widened as though she were hit with freezing water. “What do you mean?”
Here it was — Spike was going to have to explain himself, actually say aloud what was tearing away at him. The dread inside his chest seemed to solidify to an even greater weight. His throat already felt irritated as though the unspoken words were something jagged, ready to cause pain should Spike be rash enough to speak.
But of the turmoil thrashing in his brain and heart, there did rise one shred of harmony — being that he had this one moment left. He was lucky, he told himself, blessed to be alone with Twilight for this much longer. Just the two of them, together . . . one more time. . . .
“Spike?” The baby dragon woke sharply from his thinking. Twilight looked a little frightened. “What did you mean ‘will I remember you?’”
His claw gripping the stone edge of the windowsill, Spike let off a trembling sigh. He swung his legs over the window’s ledge and dropped down onto the floor. A few specks of dust drifted up when he landed — a thin sheet of it that had collected on the window was now sticking to Spike’s suit jacket. Annoyed though he was, he ignored the grime, walked a few steps forward, and stopped inches apart from Twilight.
“Spike . . . what's happened?” Twilight asked with sadness. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“What? No!” Spike shook his hands frantically. “Of course not! Never! You could never—”
“Then why are you so sad?” She looked as cheerless as he did now, and Spike hated himself for it. Twilight’s coronation, he knew well, would go down in Equestria’s history books, and Spike didn’t know how he would live with himself if he were to be remembered as the one ugly blemish on the pages of this glorious day.
Taking a deep breath, Spike looked up again at his dearest friend and did his utmost to hold a steady face.
“Twilight, do you remember when we first came to Ponyville . . . how you weren’t excited to make friends?”
Twilight stared at him. She had made this exact statement an hour ago on the Ceremonial Hall’s balcony. “Yeah, I remember, Spike. But what does that—?”
“Did you see me as a friend before that?” he asked, fiddling his claws together. “Before we came to Ponyville, I mean?”
Twilight looked completely taken aback, and Spike couldn’t blame her. The question was not a comfortable one.
“Of course I did!” Twilight exclaimed. “Spike, you were a friend long before that!”
“And after you made friends with the others, was I still seen as one?”
“Spike!” Twilight could barely believe the questions being asked her. “You’ve always been my friend! You still are!”
Spike’s gaze diverted from hers, and appreciation warmed his cheeks. Softly, he replied, “Thank you.”
“Spike, has something happened to make you think you’re not a friend?”
“No. I just . . . wanted to know. I . . . I-I wanted to hear . . .” His voice grew softer until it couldn't be heard. Realizing that he was stalling for what he really had to say, Spike shook his head, feeling childish. “Sorry. Those were stupid things to ask. Forget them, they’re nothing.”
Twilight didn’t look the slightest bit offended. Within no time, her expression went back to being concerned.
“Spike, Princess Celestia told me she saw you walk back here by yourself.”
“She did?” Spike said, surprised. Somepony had noticed him leave the cheering crowd after all. . . . Curious, he added, “Did . . . did she say anything else?”
Twilight nodded. “She thought you wanted some time alone, that maybe you needed a break from the coronation and that you were waiting for me to come back from my flight. She got worried, though, a few minutes after the party started and didn’t see you there. I did, too,” Twilight paused, looking at Spike with sympathy. “Celestia and I were just about to go and look for you when she saw you looking down at the party from atop the stairs. You looked fairly happy, so we assumed that you were okay then.”
Spike didn’t know whether to feel thankful at the concern or indifferent to it. It shouldn’t be that surprising Princess Celestia noticed him leave the cheering crowd. She does, after all, have an outstanding knack for noticing the most minuscule changes. Plus, the only dragon in a city full of ponies probably wouldn’t have been difficult for the great princess to distinguish.
Still though . . . Celestia had noticed him leave. . . . She had even become worried. . . .
“But, Spike, back to the main point,” Twilight reminded. Her voice, though calm and patient, made it clear that she wanted to get to the heart of the matter. “Can you, please, just tell me what’s bothering you? I don’t like seeing you like this.”
Spike looked down at his feet. He knew there was no use trying to draw it out, that avoiding the moment won’t rid him of his pain. On the contrary, it was growing heavier now than it had when he was alone.
Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath in the same way he had done moments ago. He looked up again into the princess's violet gaze, and she was all that existed to him. “Twilight . . . there are some things I need to say.”
Twilight looked curious, but did not press for questions.
“First of all,” he said gently, “I want to say ‘I’m sorry’.”
“For what?” asked Twilight.
“For all the times I was bad. When I acted stupid or like a smart aleck, for the times I caused trouble by not thinking ahead and for talking at the wrong moments. I’m sorry for the times I put off doing my chores or complained about wanting to do other things. It must’ve have been tough for you when I was like that. I should’ve been more thankful.”
Twilight stood silent. She clearly didn’t understand why Spike was saying this, but she wasn’t upset. Spike could see that and was glad for it.
Before Twilight could speak, Spike continued. “I also want to say ‘congratulations’.” Hard though it was, Spike put aside his dread and filled his mind with the countless achievements Twilight had made over the years. Like the sunlight on her jeweled crown, they sparkled like stars.
“You are amazing, Twilight,” Spike commended deeply. “You always put 100% into everything you do, showing and proving your devotion — to magic, our friends, and Equestria. Princess Celestia was right in making you her star pupil, and that’s because you are a star. You make everypony so proud.”
He paused, filled with adoration. “I always knew you were special. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Nopony could ask for a better princess, or friend.”
Twilight was rendered speechless. Just as she was about to say something, Spike said, “Finally . . . I want to say ‘thank you’.”
He raised his claw and placed it gently on Twilight’s front leg. He smiled sadly and did not meet her gaze. It was time for his heart to make itself known, to say what had always been there but never spoken aloud.
Spike began, his voice tender with his feelings. “Twilight . . . I can’t imagine how my life would be if I never met you. You have done so much for me. You and your family took me in and raised me. You all cared and kept me, taught me so much.”
Without really meaning to, Spike’s memory shot back to those first happy years. “I remember when I struggled learning how to read and write, how I felt I wasn’t smart enough to do it. You encouraged me, though, took me through it step by step. You believed in me, and in the end I did it. And because of that, Princess Celestia gave me what I see as my greatest achievement.” He paused, and his adoring green eyes met the violet ones. “I became you’re assistant.”
Spike’s heart was throbbing. He knew more tears were on the way, but his will was still strong; he would finish what he started.
“I think it was my destiny to be your assistant. Since the moment I came out of that egg, I’ve watched you work so hard. You had all that stuff to do by yourself, those books to read, those spells to practice. I knew you could handle it, you always did, but I still wanted to play my part, to do what I could so that you wouldn't have as much to worry about. I might not have always looked like it, but to help you . . . it meant everything.”
Spike’s tears were visible now, though he hardly felt them. Twilight’s own eyes were moist, but she still didn’t see the reason behind it all.
“I know I haven’t given you much for all you’ve done. You deserve so much more than words . . . but they’re all I have. So, please . . . accept these few words as my gift to you on your coronation.”
He gripped her leg gently. “Twilight, I am so very happy for you, so proud of how far you’ve come. And I hope for nothing but the brightest and most happy life for you. So . . . thank you. You gave me a home, a job, a life. And most of all, Twilight . . . of all the wonderful things you ever did for me . . .” a fresh tear flowed down his purple scaly face, “the most wonderful thing . . . was you being my friend.”
“Spike . . .” Twilight said softly. “Why are you—”
But before she could finish, Spike flung his arms around her leg. He rested his head against her chest, and Twilight could feel the baby dragon’s tears pouring out. His sobs echoed gently off the stone passage’s walls.
“Spike?” Twilight said with alarm. She felt him shake as he sobbed, yet he didn’t loosen his grip as though he were afraid of letting go.
“Spike!” Twilight cried in worry. “What’s—”
“I . . .” he cried, gasping on a sob, “I . . . h-hope your new assistants are g-good.”
Twilight tried to speak, but her voice failed.
“I know that being a princess,” Spike wept, “means you'll get lots of assistants to help out. They’ll do everything I used to do for you, and I know they’ll be better than I am. But that’s okay. I want you to be happy, and . . . e-even . . . even though I won’t be with you, I’ll find a way to keep going . . . for you. . . . So . . .” he hugged her tighter, his voice cracked and feeling raw, “I just wanted to say g-goodbye and . . . th-thank you . . . and tell you how much I . . . I . . .”
A second of unbearable silence, and Spike broke down. All his strength left him as his crying spilled out. He could hardly breathe through his sobs, let alone form syllables. If it weren’t for his hold on Twilight, he would've been lying on the ground.
He didn’t care that his eyes were burning or that he couldn’t catch his breath. All that mattered in the world right now was the soft feel of royal fabric and the warmth of the pony beneath it. She wasn’t speaking, but Spike could still feel her. She was still with him.
How much time passed, Spike didn’t know. A minute maybe? An hour? He could’ve spent the rest of his life beside Twilight and not care about anything else.
His crying was weaker now and mostly reduced to sniffling, but his heart and mind were still hurting, pained by uncertainty. He wanted it all to vanish, but of course it wouldn't. He didn’t know if it would ever fully go.
But . . . there was a positive note. Whatever he felt, whatever awaited him, at least he got to say goodbye — Spike will remember that. He got to tell Twilight how much she meant to him, how dearly thankful he was, and how they had both once been. That will remain; those feelings will be kept and preserved for as long as he lived.
Spike had said what he needed. It was time to part.
He sniffled once more, his tears stuck to his face like sap. Then, with a great deal of strain, Spike released his grip and slowly moved back. He felt Twilight slip away out of his arms, along with the warmth she possessed.
Before Spike was back far enough to see Twilight’s face, he closed his eyes.
The floor he stood on seemed to vanish from existence. The feeling of the small space faded and left Spike drifting in a cold, empty night sky, void of stars and moon. There was no light, no sound, no direction anywhere.
He was alone, utterly and completely, with nothing except his heart, beating for no useful reason.
Where was he? Why was he there? Was he, himself, even there?
Then, as though somepony heard his bewildered thoughts, something answered him.
Out from the immeasurable darkness of what seemed like millions of miles, a bright light, like a sun, exploded into life. It came and Spike felt the warmth he had left sweep over him again like a blanket, warmer than ever.
Startled, Spike shot his eyes open and he was in the small gray room again. He could see the dull-colored walls, the dark stairwell at his side, and the visible golden sunlight coming through the bright window. The only things more noticeable were the colors pink and gold, the feel of soft fabric, and a gentle, affectionate nuzzling on the side of his head.
He also felt a heartbeat, only it wasn’t his.
Twilight was seated on the ground, her hooves wrapped around him in a tight embrace. Not letting go, she pulled back her head and looked down at her little dragon.
“Oh, Spike,” Twilight said sympathetically. “I'm so sorry. I never meant you to feel like that.”
Reality came again like a poke in the chest.
“Twilight, it’s not your fault,” Spike assured as clearly as his weak voice would allow. “It’s just the way things turned out. But . . . it’s okay. I’m sure your new assistants will be good. I bet they’ll be great and—”
Twilight placed her hoof delicately over his mouth.
“You don’t think on that anymore,” she said. “Spike, you are my assistant.”
His eyes glistened. All at once, his heart twinged and cooed. “But, Twilight . . . you’re a princess now. You’ll have plenty more helpers to assist you, ponies who are better than—”
“Nopony could be better than you,” she assured him. “They might be good at what they do, but they’re not you, Spike. None of them could ever replace you or do what you do better than you.”
The sunlight from the window shone gracefully on Twilight’s face. Spike could see she was being completely sincere. “But what makes me better than them? What’s special about me?”
“Don’t you know?” Twilight released her embrace, stepped back, and sat down to explain. “Spike, you’ve done plenty for me, more than I can list. You’ve done great things for other ponies, too. A few months ago, you helped save the Crystal Empire—”
“Only because you found the Crystal Heart!” Spike stressed. “You figured out the clues and solved the puzzles. I just came with because I didn’t want you to go alone. Me helping out at the end was just luck!”
“Was it? You said so yourself, Spike. You chose to follow me. If you hadn’t, I never would have found the Crystal Heart. I would’ve been stuck in my worst fear if you hadn’t been there to snap me out of it.
“And don’t sell yourself short. You did save the Crystal Empire!” Twilight said resolutely. “If you hadn’t been with me, I would’ve remained trapped by King Sombra and he would’ve won. By bringing the Crystal Heart to Cadence, you brought our victory. You did a very good thing that day, Spike, something that went beyond the duties of a mere assistant, and we are all thankful for it: Cadence, Shining Armor, Celestia and Luna, our friends, the Crystal Ponies, and most of all, me. It might have been my test to complete alone, but it turns out you coming along was the reason I passed at all. You being with me made all the difference.”
Spike didn't say anything. He knew Twilight was right in everything she said — that him being there that day helped save the Empire, and he supposed that he did, in a sense, help Twilight pass her test by being there to pass along the Heart. But still. . . .
“But . . . Twilight,” Spike said, still doubtful, “even so, what have I done besides that? What makes me worthy to keep being your assistant?”
“You,” she answered simply. “You are what makes you worthy.”
Spike stared at her. “I don’t get it.”
“Actually, I think you do,” Twilight smiled. “Just think back to yesterday, Spike. Think back on what happened.”
Though he had no idea what Twilight meant, Spike did as she requested. It wasn’t difficult; the past twenty-four hours had been memorable for quite a number of reasons: switched cutie marks, an unfinished spell, Twilight depressed, friends returning to normal, and last and not least, but certainly most extraordinary, a pair of wings and the birth of a new princess.
From Twilight’s singing to the feathers she now sported, Spike could picture every detail as though they were playing on a film reel. Nonetheless, however, he recalled nothing he hadn’t already thought back to a hundred times.
At a loss, he said, “I still don’t—”
“Spike, don’t you remember yesterday, when I was faced with the task of fixing our friends’ destinies, how down I was?” Spike nodded, and Twilight’s peaceful expression waned as she turned to the ground in pained thought. “I didn’t know what to do, Spike. I knew I had to find some way to fix the problem, that I couldn’t just leave my friends in the confusing mess I put them in, but at the time—”
“That wasn’t your fault!” Spike insisted. “You didn't do that to our friends! It was the spell you read from Star Swirl’s notebook! You had no idea it would switch things up like it did!”
“Yes, I know, and thank you,” Twilight said with mild gratefulness, though still quite gloomy. “But regardless of how it happened, I was uncertain of what do to about it. This was magic unlike any I ever experienced and I didn’t know any spell that could fix it.” Twilight lifted her gaze back up and the same hopelessness Spike had seen just a day ago was visible once again. “Spike, I was beginning to fear the worst. I felt that I wouldn’t be able to help our friends.”
“But you did!” he said, raising his arms. “You helped show them to their rightful skills and even finished the spell that caused their destinies to switch! You got back your confidence and—”
“And I have you to thank for that,” said Twilight, and her smile returned.
Spike was struck dumb. “Me? Twilight, you’re the one who fixed everything. I just followed along carrying the box with the Elements.”
“No. You did something before we left the library.” Twilight rose up off the floor, back onto her hooves, and looked at the dragon thankfully. “You encouraged me, Spike. You gave me hope that I had what it took to fix everything.”
“So?” Spike exclaimed, waving his arms. “All I did was say I believed you would figure it out. It’s not a big deal or anything to compliment—”
“It was to me,” Twilight said firmly. “Spike, the fact that you were there for me, like you were at the Crystal Empire, helped remind me of something important, the reason everything went right yesterday.”
She stood up straight, bright with sunlight. Confidence was visible in her gaze.
“Remind you of what?” Spike asked, an eyebrow raised.
“You reminded me that when we are uncertain, feeling lost, or without any idea of what to do, it’s up to friends go to each other and give their help in finding the answer, to show them the way.”
Spike’s eyebrows lowered. “What?” He reminded her of that? Where was he when this happened?
Twilight continued, “When we both left the library to go help our friends, I only started things off for each of them. I showed Fluttershy back to her cottage, back to her true destiny and self. But after Fluttershy was herself again, I passed the lead onto her so she could help Rainbow Dash. Rainbow then followed after with Rarity, and then she with Applejack, and finally Applejack with Pinkie Pie. One after the other, our friends helped each other until everything was right again.”
With a delighted look, Twilight stepped forward and placed her hoof on Spike’s shoulder. “Spike, you being there to give me encouragement cleared my head and showed me what I had to do. They might have seemed like simple words but they reminded me how important it is that friends be there for each other. From your encouragement, I found the solution to our problem, and from that, so did everypony else. It wasn’t just me who fixed the destinies, it was also you and our friends. It was all of us.”
The intense trembling that was tearing at Spike’s insides lessened a little further. The light from the outside window seemed to be shining clearer than it had moments ago.
Taking her hoof from his shoulder, Twilight added, “Spike, I know we never got around to writing an letter to Princess Celestia the other day. So instead, let me say aloud what I learned to you.”
She paused and steadied herself. Spike stood still and listened intently, a part of him wishing he had a quill and paper so he could write as Twilight spoke, just for old times sake.
“There are times in our lives,” Twilight began, “when things become confusing. It can come from others or even ourselves, making everything unclear or seem hopeless. When our friends’ cutie marks got switched, they probably knew something was wrong yet weren’t sure of what to do about it. They actually went along with their ‘marked destinies’, believing it was the right path for them, all the while being miserable. At first, I didn’t know what to do or what would happen.”
Twilight frowned, appearing very distressed. “Not knowing felt awful, uncertainty was scarier than I ever imagined. But from my friends,” her frown lifted, “I learned that it’s up to all of us, as friends, to help when needed, to guide each other when feeling lost. By having my friends close, I know that everything will turn out just fine, that I will be just fine, despite not knowing . . .” she hesitated, “. . . not knowing . . . what lies ahead. . . .”
During these pauses as she spoke, Twilight’s bright attitude faded.
“And yet,” she said dismally, “I now wonder if I actually believe that.”
Spike’s eyes widened at these words. “What do you mean?”
Twilight suddenly looked rather sad. Something about her seemed to whimper from the inside. Her beautiful wings actually drooped a little.
“Spike . . . I know how you're feeling right now. Perhaps I should’ve started with this. . . .”
Twilight looked less like herself than Spike had ever seen her in life. The confidence she exerted moments ago seemed to have died and was replaced by an air of shame and depression.
Twilight let off a sigh and sat back down on the floor. A moment went by before she spoke, and when she did, there was a cheerless tone to it.
“Just over an hour ago, Spike, I took my first flight, and . . . I could hardly believe it. I was flying, actually flying. I don’t think I fully realized that I was an alicorn until I was in the air, looking out at our world. Being that high up, where I never thought I’d be, I began to wonder what will happen next, where my life was headed and what I was going to do. As I flew, I tried to think of an answer to these questions, a clue as to what to expect from this new destiny.”
She paused and looked to the ground mournfully. “I couldn’t think of anything. It dawned on me quickly that I have no idea what’s to come. I was made a princess, but what did that mean? Where would it take me? I didn’t know . . . and I still don’t. And to think," she gave a weak laugh, "when I flew into the air, I said everything was going to be just fine. I convinced myself that it would, and, for a while, maybe everything will. But right now . . . I feel very scared.”
“Scared?” Spike asked perplexed. “Scared of what?”
“About what being a princess means. Spike, I admit that I’m good at magic, and I’d like to think I was a good student—”
“You were great!”
“Thank you, but regardless, I never read any books on what it means to be a princess or how to be a ruler. It’s not something that can be read. I could guess or even research it, but nothing will compare to the actual experience. I don’t know what’s going to happen after today, and not knowing is what scares me.”
“But Twilight,” Spike said hastily, “it’s like you just said! If you’re feeling uncertain, just turn to your friends and they’ll help out!”
“But that’s the problem. I can’t ask our friends for help because they don’t know what being a princess means any better than I do. Don’t get me wrong, Spike, our friends mean the world to me, they’re the reason I’m a princess, but I don’t know how they can help me because I’m not sure myself of what I’ll be doing.”
“But Celestia said she’ll help guide you, last night when she told us you were a princess! She said she’ll be there to help—”
“I don’t doubt her, Spike,” Twilight interrupted. “I know Princess Celestia will be there for me, as I know all my friends will. It’s not my friends who I doubt, Spike, it’s me!” She paused and took a deep breath. She gave a sad smile, like she were guilty of something humiliating and childish. “It’s not being called a princess that bothers me, or any qualities I might have to earn. It’s what everypony expects of me, what they hope I’ll do and bring now that I’m a princess.”
She turned her gaze away from Spike and looked towards the dark, shadowy stairwell.
“When I flew back to the coronation party, I put on a face that hid my true feelings. How could I not? Everywhere around me, everypony was so happy, cheering for me.” Twilight shook her head in a bemused, pained sort of way. “Princess Celestia was proud of me. Shining Armor, Cadence, and Princess Luna talked about how excited they were, eager to see what I would do in the days ahead. Their compliments made me smile, their affection was wonderful. But it didn’t change how I felt. And the more everypony enjoyed themselves with the party, the more I began to dread what might happen if I don’t be everything they think I ’ought to be.”
Twilight turned back toward Spike, her violet eyes glinted with worry.
“The truth is, Spike . . . I don’t know whether I’m good enough to be this person. I’m afraid I’ll let Princess Celestia down, that I might let you and the rest of our friends down. I know I shouldn’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet, but that’s harder to do now that I’m a princess. Every decision I make now will affect not only my friends but other ponies and creatures I don’t know. What'll happen if I mess up? How will Equestria endure if I make the wrong choice? I know Celestia said she’ll help guide me, but even so, even if I learn as much as she does, will I be any better off than I am now?
“Now that I have this crown, I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear the weight. I don’t know what I’m going to do . . . or how I’ll handle it all by myself.”
Twilight bowed her head and stared bleakly at the floor as though she had already let down somepony dear to her. Her crown was no longer gleaming. It hung low, out of the sunlight, tipping far enough that it might soon fall off.
Spike stood where he was, staring at Twilight with pity. As though his mind were acting on its own, he was visited by an image of himself sitting on the Ceremonial Hall’s podium, alone, searching blindly for answers and assurances far beyond reach.
The baby dragon’s heart gave off a small whimper, but no longer for himself or his personal worries. All of that felt trivial now compared to what he was seeing, to what he could practically feel coming from his friend.
Spike took in a breath of air and breathed it out quietly. It seemed to refresh his brain and make clear what he needed to do.
Twilight was still staring at the ground, her expression gripped with worry and her mind, no doubt, swirling frantically to form some answer to calm her trepidation. From the looks of it, she wasn’t doing very well.
There was no way Spike could leave Twilight like this. He could not, will not. Not Twilight, so brilliant, so worthy and wonderful in every respect. She needed somepony to help her . . . to help her see.
He may have little time left, this may very well be the last thing he does for her, but as Twilight’s assistant, Spike still had a duty, and he was determined to see it through. If this was his final moment with Twilight, he’ll see it end with her happy and confident, as a princess and as his friend . . . the best and most precious he ever had.
The baby dragon stepped forth to the forlorn mare. Placing his purple claw under her chin, he gently raised it. The sunlight hit the star-shaped jewel on the crown. Twilight opened her violet eyes and Spike rested his claw on her cheek.
“Come on, Twilight,” Spike said, his voice encouraging, “you know better than that. You and I both know that you're good enough.”
“I don’t know if I am, Spike,” she said glumly. “What if—”
“Well, I do,” Spike said confidently. “I know for certain that you are good enough, and so does Princess Celestia, and so do your family and friends. We all know you have what it takes. Twilight, think about everything you’ve done since we moved to Ponyville: the ponies you’ve met, the lessons you’ve learned, the fact that you made your very own magic. That says a lot, don’t you think?”
She remained quiet. Spike let out a sigh and withdrew his claw.
“Look," he said, "I don’t have any idea what being a princess means, either, or what’ll happen next. But I do know there is nothing for you to be afraid of.”
Twilight was gazing into the green eyes, trying to find the meaning behind the assured belief. There was no fret at all in Spike; he looked absolutely serene, and his tears were gone.
“‘Handle it by yourself’?” Spike went on, repeating Twilight’s words. He sounded amused. “Twilight, you won’t be alone as a princess. Everypony who loves you will be there: our friends, Celestia, Luna, Cadence, your brother and parents — all of them. It’s like you learned yesterday: if ever we’re in trouble, the ones we care about will be there to help. They’ll guide you through and stick with you. That is, after all, what family and friends do for each other."
Twilight listened keenly to his words, taking them all in. Spike could see the confidence emerging again.
“Twilight,” he said with the deepest affection, “you are smart, brave, kind, and the best pony I’ve ever known. I know you’re going to be a great princess. They’ll write books about you, you’ll be talked about in schools,” he gave a light chuckle, “I bet you’ll even get your own library named after you. Ponies and other creatures will be inspired by your story and what you've taught us, of how life is more wonderful when you have friends.
“You still have a lot to live for. Whatever else you have to learn, you'll learn when the time comes. Any task you face will only make you stronger, better. So don’t worry. Princess Celestia knew what she was doing. She knows you’re ready, and so do I. You won’t let us down. Of anything that’ll happen, that, without a doubt, is certain. Everypony who knows you like I do will agree that there couldn’t be anypony more deserving of this.”
He placed his claw back on her warm cheek. “You will make a wonderful future for Equestria, and we will all love you for it.”
The sunlight glistened off the tears in Twilight’s eyes, and then Spike saw it. Her smile — the smile Spike loved so much. It had returned, and he knew deep down it would stay for the days ahead. With a smile to match her own, Spike silently accepted this as his final payment: to see Twilight happy and confident. There couldn't be a better honor to perform as her assistant.
“And that,” said Twilight, placing her hoof over Spike’s claw, “is why I will always want you by my side, Spike.”
His smile faded and he stepped back from her, astonished.
“What?” he asked, his mouth hanging.
Twilight gave a small giggle.
“Hey!” Spike frowned. “What’s funny?”
“Sorry,” Twilight chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t you see, though, Spike? All those things you just said? Helping me to feel confident and hopeful, to believe in myself? You’re doing exactly what you did yesterday when I was sad.”
“So?” he asked.
“So, that’s what’s special about you, the reason I like you so much.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “What, that I don’t want you to worry?”
“No,” she said. “It’s you being there for me, as my friend. Something no service pony could ever imitate or perform.”
Twilight stepped closer and sat down next to him.
“Spike, our friendship is more than just student and assistant, more than just give and take. It’s not based around what you give as an assistant or the requests I make. Anypony can help clean a room or pick up a bunch of books. But only a friend, who truly cares like you do, would know what to say to lift my spirits, as you did yesterday and right now. A mere assistant wouldn’t have followed me back at the Crystal Empire, nor would they have proven, time and again, just how faithful they are. Honestly,” she shook her head, smiling, “without my Number One Assistant, I don’t know how I would get by.”
Spike’s eyes weren’t stinging anymore. The gleam from Twilight’s own reflected the sunlight from the window, and Spike could swear the warmth was stronger in front of him than in back.
“So, Spike?” Twilight smiled, awaiting an answer he supposedly already knew.
Spike felt like laughing. The harsh mountain-sized weight that hung inside him seemed to have crumbled to dust in the time he and Twilight had spoken. The light coming from the window seemed to flow through him like a warm ocean. There was hardly any pain left.
Spike opened his mouth to speak, but then, at the last moment, stopped. He turned to gaze at the dark stairwell close by. There was no door and no visible sign of what lay at the passage’s bottom. The first few stairs were hardly visible as the black shadows concealed the rest, going down how far and to where Spike did not know.
Despite all that had been said, regardless of how much better he felt, a tiny flicker of uncertainty still floated around inside him. A flicker that Twilight must've noticed.
But,” she said calmly, “if you have any doubts left about whether or not you're worthy, then let me show you something.”
Stepping back a little ways from Spike, Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated. Her horn started to glow, as did the star-shaped jewel on her crown.
A bright spark popped into existence between the alicorn and dragon. Hovering in midair like a firefly, it began to move in fast zigzags, leaving behind a white trail as though somepony were drawing a picture out of light. Once the shape was made, five smaller versions appeared around it. Then the shapes filled themselves with two colors: hot pink and pure white.
And there it was, unmoving in the air, neither solid nor fully transparent, much like the sunlight flowing in through the window.
“Spike,” said Twilight, and she moved around the floating shape and stopped beside him, “do you know what this is?”
Spike blinked. Of all the questions Twilight could’ve asked him, none could’ve been more obvious or simple to answer.
His eyebrows lowered, he replied, “Twilight, it’s your cutie mark.”
“Yes, it is.” She sounded like a teacher politely commenting a student. “Tell me, what do you think my cutie mark means?”
Regardless that he had an answer, Spike found the question rather curious, as though there were a trick to it.
“I always thought it meant your talent in magic,” he said. “You know, the stars being kind of mystical and stuff.”
“I agree,” Twilight nodded. “I believe it does show my interest in magic. But I’ve come to realize that it also stands for something else.”
She turned to look at it. The enlarged image of the stars gleamed like miniature suns, lighting the small space as much as the sunlight.
“After we moved to Ponyville, Spike, our friends and I learned that we all got our cutie marks on the same day from Rainbow Dash’s Sonic Rainboom. With that, I’ve come to see that my cutie mark represents not only my love of magic, but also my friends. Each star in my cutie mark stands for a friend I care deeply about.”
Spike thought this a very clever way of seeing the mark. Looking at it closely, the idea made perfect sense . . . much to his dismay.
“But, Twilight,” Spike said gloomily, “counting the two of us and our friends, that would make seven of us.”
“Yes, it does,” she answered simply.
Spike’s face filled with grief. “But . . . but your cutie mark only has six stars.”
Twilight turned towards him, and, to Spike’s astonishment, she was smiling warmly. “Look a little closer,” she said, and she nudged her head at the enlarged cutie mark.
Wiping his eyes gently with his claw, Spike focused hard on the image hanging in front of him, the mark he had seen and known all his life.
He started with the large, pink star in the center. If Twilight’s idea about her cutie mark was correct, this star, without a doubt, represented her. The crown she wore on her head was all the more proof of that.
Then there were the five smaller white stars, which stood for Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash. They were the five friends who had entered Twilight’s life and, with their help, brought forth the Elements of Harmony and the qualities that made Twilight a princess. The five stars revolved around the large pink star like moons in orbit, which made sense — Twilight was, after all, looked upon as the leader of her friends.
But what else was there for Spike to notice? What more did Twilight expect him to see? Her cutie mark was plain as day. There were six stars. One large, hot pink star: Twilight. Five smaller white stars: her friends. Final amount: Six.
“Twilight, I don’t understand,” he said, not looking away from the mark. “What am I . . . suppose to . . .”
In that instant, Spike’s heart seemed to stop, yet his body still moved. Slowly, he stepped closer to the mark, making sure that what he was seeing wasn’t an illusion.
It did not fade. His heart fluttered. It was really there.
“Twilight . . .” Spike said, hardly realizing he was talking. His eyes were glued to the large star and what accompanied it from behind.
Like the sun blocked by the moon, it shone through, complimenting the larger star. Elusive though it was, it shined brightly.
Short for breath, Spike said, “Is . . . is that . . .”
“Yes,” said Twilight. She walked up to his side and, with a glow from her horn, the mark disappeared from the room completely.
Twilight turned and beamed at her assistant.
“You are the seventh star, Spike, the friend who arrived on the same day as my cutie mark and who has been with me ever since. You and I have both grown through the bond we share, and that bond is represented by how our two stars are linked together. That is the deeper meaning of my cutie mark: me, you, and our five friends, connected through friendship.”
The outline of the nearly hidden white star was still visible on the surface of Spike’s vision. It was strange . . . the idea behind what it meant had never occurred to him. He had always thought it was just a white light the larger star gave off, a glow of brilliance to add to the mystique of Twilight’s gift for magic. But now, thanks to Twilight, a new idea, a new outlook on his role to her was clear.
The alicorn and baby dragon faced each other, both with renewed expressions.
“Spike, never once have I ever thought of replacing you,” Twilight said fondly. “Me and you started this journey together, and with our friends we’ll keep it going.”
Twilight sat down on the floor and placed a hoof on her friend’s shoulder.
“As Equestria’s newest princess, I make a solemn promise to you. No matter what changes the future brings, no matter what happens down the road, no matter what . . . I swear I will never, ever leave you. I don’t know what awaits me in the future, but I also can’t imagine it without you. The way you’ve been here for me has made me feel more confident to live my new role than I was an hour ago. I know now, without any doubt, that as long as you and our friends are with me, everything will be fine.”
She raised her other hoof and placed it on Spike’s other shoulder. “Spike . . . my assistant, my most faithful friend. Will you stay with me, by my side?”
The sunlight glimmered on Twilight’s hoping smile.
Spike couldn’t feel an inch of air in his lungs. Time itself might have stopped. Everything he had dreaded, all that he had thought within the last hour were replaced by what lay in front of him, all meager compared to this wonderful request.
A smile grew. He couldn’t control it; he didn’t want to.
Lunging forward, Spike wrapped his arms tightly around Twilight. He pressed his cheek into the side of her dress and, taking a long breath, he closed his eyes and blissfully cried a single word, his answer to her request.
“Forever.”
Twilight brought her hooves around the little dragon and pressed her cheek to his head. She, too, closed her eyes.
The two friends held each other, and together they cried tears that brought no prickle or shudder. It wasn’t from sadness, nowhere close; the very feeling might never have existed. Their hearts pulsed with ease and seemed to lighten inside their chests, growing warm from the other, linked by what they were feeling.
Holding onto each other, they both felt confident, so certain that everything was, as they had sung, certainly fine.
And it was, Spike knew. Everything will be fine, he’ll see to it that it does, and so will Twilight and all their friends.
The two took a simultaneous breath, and together, they pulled each other up off the floor. Still smiling, Spike raised his claw and straightened the crown back onto Twilight's head, and Twilight, in return, used her magic to fasten and straighten the red bowtie on Spike’s tuxedo.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Thank you,” she nodded in return.
Realizing again that they were still dressed in formal wear, Spike noticed a few dark spots on Twilight’s dress. His eyes widened. “Twilight! My tears!” he said, pointing to her side. “I got your dress wet!”
Twilight looked at the stains, but shook her head, unflustered. “Don’t worry.”
Her horn glowed and the spots in the fabric where Spike’s tears had absorbed faded away, leaving behind a clean, perfect pink. Twilight repeated the action. Spike felt a small tingle drift over him and the dust he obtained from the window ledge reduced itself to nothing, leaving the black fabric of his suit jacket dark and clean.
“Whoa!” Spike said impressed, running his claw down his dust-free sleeve. “That’s handy!”
“Just a little cleaning spell for clothes. Especially useful for fancy parties. Now, how about we both go and enjoy that party?”
With the window at their backs, still casting sunlight, the two left the small space and moved back into the foyer. At once, the sounds of the party hit their ears.
“Sounds like it’s still going well,” Twilight commented.
“Yeah . . . it sure does,” said Spike, his eyes towards the door. “I think I’ll go for a slice of apple pie.”
Twilight hummed in delight. “That’s a delicious idea. I’ll join you.”
“Applejack, here we come!”
Happy and eager, the two started towards the exit.
“By the way . . .”
“Yeah, Spike?”
“Tell me. How do you like your wings?”
“Honestly?” she asked. The baby dragon nodded. She grinned and whispered, “They’re awesome!”
Spike roared with laugher and Twilight blushed appreciatively.
Side by side, the two walked through the nearest of the three doors and outside into the sunlight. Both of them squinted, but in no time their eyes adjusted and saw that they weren’t alone.
Princess Celestia was standing in front of them with Princess Luna behind her, next to the railing.
“Hello, you two,” said Celestia, and her voice held a hint of concern. “I was just beginning to worry about you both. You left in quite a hurry back there, Twilight.”
“That was my fault, Princess,” said Spike, raising his claw in apology. “I came out to the party earlier but ran back inside, so Twilight came to check on me. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
Celestia moved closer and bowed her head down to Spike’s level. “Are you okay, Spike?” Her voice was gentle, in the same tone which belonged to a mother.
“Yeah, I’m good” he answered. “I had some trouble with something, but Twilight helped me get through it. I’m feeling much better now.”
“Are you certain?”
Spike nodded with confidence. “Absolutely.”
Without a shred of doubt or further question to her gaze, Celestia beamed at the little dragon and straightened her posture. “Excellent. I am so happy you and Twilight are still here. We were all starting to wonder whether you two had left.”
She turned and moved towards Luna, who was now at the edge of the first stair, looking down.
“They’re right here!” Luna called out.
Spike and Twilight stepped forward. At the foot of the stairs, standing on the green grass below, were all their friends: Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy, joined by Shining Armor and Cadence. Every one of them wore a smile and a gentle gaze.
“We do hope you two will stick around,” Celestia said cheerfully. “There is still so much to celebrate.”
And indeed there was. The many ponies were still taking in the festivities, showing their good spirits with dance, food, and conversation. Minus his friends at the foot of the stairs, it was almost exactly as it were when Spike left.
“Well,” he said eagerly, “we better not keep them waiting. Come on, Twilight.”
Spike took a few steps down, then stopped and turned to look back. Twilight was still at the top.
“You okay?” he called up.
“Absolutely,” said Twilight, her face radiant.
She trotted down and stopped beside him. “You worried at all?”
Spike smiled at her. “Not anymore.”
“Me neither.”
They were both sincere. The last hour was already a past memory and Spike and Twilight were certain, as the next hour began, that there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. They were, after all, together and among friends. Whatever comes will come, and when it does, they and all their friends will be there, for each other, for always.
Twilight raised one of her wings and placed it over Spike’s back. Raising his claw, Spike gently grasped the wing, and together, the two of them began down the sun-bright stairs, towards the party, towards their friends.
* * * * * * *