//------------------------------// // The Letter // Story: Moments for Spike // by Rocinante //------------------------------// Spike shuffled through the stack of mail. The little chore had become much more interesting since Twilight’s coronation. Flicking the junk mail in the trash, he took to sorting the personal letters from the diplomatic. A simple task except for the last letter. Addressed to Twilight’s new royal title, but in a common envelope. It was from someone named Malachite, who used no titles himself, but the return address was in the capital of Draconia. It was a riddle that could be answered quickly by reading the message within. Being Twilight’s personal assistant came with certain privileges. Opening her mail for her was one of the bigger ones. Often he was the filter between what was read today, and what was read next week. With no seal to break, Spike deftly ran a claw between the envelope and its flap. Twilight, I’d like to start this letter by saying that I think of you often and fondly. I regret that it is only now that I am able to write you. It was only once I returned home that I realized I did not have your address. I tried writing the camp, but they were unable to forward my letter, and sent it back to me. When news of your ascension reached me here, I immediately wrote this letter. I can see that you are well. I hope you are happy. I am well myself. My first thesis defence was last equinox, the masters gave me excellent remarks. I have hopes of earning my robe in the next few years. I’ve been teaching the intro to xeno-thaumaturgy class for two years now, so I’ll have my teaching hours in by the time I submit my second thesis. With that said, I must ask a question I hope you will answer. While reading about your coronation, I came across some photos of you and a child dragon. Is he ours? I need to know for my own sake. If he is, I will assume whatever role you wish me to have in his life. If he is not, then I hope you will find humor in my imagination. There is a convoy leaving here for your Equestria at the end of next month. I have some months of holiday saved up. If you wish it, I would like to see you again. I will await your response before committing to any action. Your friend and once lover, Malachite “Spike,” Twilight called, but got no response. Sticking her head into the main room, she found him engrossed in something by the center table. Walking up behind him, she peered over Spike’s head, expecting to find one of his monthly comics in claw. It wasn’t a comic, but a letter, probably some unsolicited correspondence. Whatever it was, it had him too zoned out to notice her. Spike did a good job of sorting the important from the inane, sparing her OCD from excess information. Curious about what had Spike so entranced, she picked up the discarded envelope beside him, and checked the letter’s address... Reaching out with her magic, Twilight locked the library door. This day had come sooner than she wanted. The click of the lock, snapped Spike from his trance. Blinking, he slowly turned to face Twilight. She expected him to yell, perhaps to cry, but he only stared dumbly. “It’s for you,” he finally said, holding out the letter. Now she was the one about to cry, taking the letter in her magic, Twilight read the letter while Spike watched her every movement. “Is he?” Spike asked the moment her eyes reached the bottom of the page. Twilight laid the letter on her desk; something to do as an excuse for silence. “Spike,” she began. She wanted to give him excuses, she wanted to sugar coat the story. Spike deserved better than that from her. “Malachite is your father.” Spike held his emotionless gaze on her “Then you’re my-” his voice hitched, the word stuck in his throat. Twilight nodded, the biggest secret of her life, out to the only one it really mattered to. “I am...” She tried to say more, but it hung in her throat too. One side of Spike’s mouth curled into a smile, while the opposite eye twitched without rhythm. “But, you told me-” “It’s what we told everyone. Celestia and my parents thought it would be easier.” “Then the story about getting your cutie mark?” “Mostly true. Except that egg is cast iron, and still at the school. It just has a dent in it now from where I launched it through the roof; the rainboom part was true. Also you weren’t born as an egg--thank the stars.” Twilight laughed at her own joke, a desperate attempt to find some humor in the conversation. “Then when’s my birthday?” Taking an easy step towards Spike, she sat next to him. “Same day, but you’re two years younger than we told you. You developed a lot in the first six months.” “You were really young, how did ... grandmother react?” Spike asked looking up at her. Twilight snorted at the title, but it was true. “Her and Dad took it well. They were concerned about my health. I was only a year older than Applebloom is now, my first season in heat. Between them and Celestia, I had the best doctors in equestria fussing over me. Turns out it was a fluke that I could conceive with a dragon at all.” Spike leaned into Twilight, shifting a little she put a foreleg around him in a loose embrace. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” “It’s not like you weren’t there for me.” “We could have tried harder to tell Malachite,” Twilight said, giving Spike a squeeze. Spike looked up to meet Twilight’s eyes “Why didn’t you tell him?” Slumping a bit, Twilight eased her hold on Spike. “That was my decision. I was the one that made the mistake, I didn’t want to interrupt his life. Or maybe I was just selfish and wanted you to myself. I’m not even sure anymore.” “How long did you know each other?” Spike asked leaning back into Twilight. “Only three months. it was at Celestia’s summer camp for the gifted. He was one of three dragons that attended that year. I have a few pictures of him at Mom’s house, if you want to see. Pulling free of Twilight’s hold, Spike wandered back over to the letter. “I want to meet him.” “I’ll get stationary, and we can both write him.” Rising to her hooves, Twilight plodded across the library to her desk. Pulling out the needed ink and paper, she felt Spike’s touch against her leg. “Twilight, can I call you Mom?” The inkwell in her levitation nearly toppled before she could set it back down. Letting the paper fall where it may, she pulled Spike into a hug. “Only if you think I deserve it.”