• Published 12th Feb 2012
  • 6,303 Views, 84 Comments

Little Scars - take flight



Spike and Rarity bond through tragedy. Memories may fade, but little scars remain.

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II- Waltz and Gems

She hid well. With the right magical charms, a floppy sunhat, and a hip new cloak, Rarity rejoined Ponyville society with poise and grace. Her presence was welcomed back to open arms and much celebration, her speedy recovery attributed to modern medicine, unicorn magic, and universal healthcare.

But she knew in her heart it was more than that. The painful operations, grueling physical therapy, nauseating medications- she braved them all with Spike by her side. His soothing voice and tender claws, always quick with a massage or hug. These drugs and spells had nothing on the healing effects of love. And so she grew stronger by his side.

Rebuilding the Carousel Boutique was no small feat, but Ponyville was a town of able carpenters and magicians. The framework was up within the week, last nail hammered in the same month. Beautiful gardens bloomed where rubble and ashes had once lay.

Business boomed. Orders poured in from across Equestria, and Ponyville became a capital of fashion and commerce. The workroom walls were torn down and the building was expanded twice. Rarity took on her own apprentices, treating the young fillies (and single foal) like her own children. They were all gifted- of agile hoofs and quick minds, and the Boutique’s productivity soared under Rarity’s tutelage.

Then, during the Summer Sun Celebration, she invited Spike to live with her. How could he say no? He packed a small bag, leaving the library in Big Mac and Fluttershy's more-than-capable hooves.

Days slowly melded into weeks and those into months. Twilight’s return to Ponyville was brief. She was barely able to reacquaint herself before being whisked away on another adventure. A short diplomatic trip, she had promised Spike. She would be back before they knew it. He wrote one of letters that night, begging Celestia and Luna to watch over her. Ponyville slowly moved on, but like a deep scar, the pain of her absence never truly receded.

Trees were harvested, their branches sagging with apples. Food was stockpiled as droplets of rain turned into tufts of snow. During the midst of a blizzard, a Canterlot chariot landed in town center, bearing the purple unicorn Ponyville had longed for. Her purse was laden with golden tickets- invitations to the Grand Galloping Gala.

Derpy the mailmare was run ragged with orders. The apprentices were on winter break, and for the first time, Rarity was forced to turn down requests. But Spike would still wake at night to the thrum of the sewing machine, even after Rarity promised to sleep.

It was one such night. Spike slumped into the workshop, rubbing his bleary eyes. Candles and lanterns lit the room in a warm glow. The windows of the Ponyville houses were dark, save for the quaint dress shop.

“Oh dear,” Rarity muttered absently, horn glowing as an array of sewing equipment soared through the air. Spike ducked under a roll of velvet, narrowly missing the fabric as it whizzed above his ears.

The workroom was in an impressive state of disarray. Gems, bridles, shoes, sewing equipment lay scattered on the floor. Scraps of fabric hung from curtains. A spilled bottle of dye lay half-congealing on the floor. The metallic tang of gem polisher permeated the room.

The unicorn dashed from table to table, objects levitating and spinning in her deep purple aura. There was little to do when Rarity was in one of these states. Spike resigned himself to settling in a chair, watching a master artisan work her craft.

Spike’s eyes began to follow the contours of her back as she flitted across the room. Her pristine, snow-white coat was raked with shiny, dull pink scars. A simple enchantment could hide them, but Rarity had long given up on maintaining the facade- among friends, at least. Her purple mane was tossed into a lazy bun, forcing the mare to constantly blow strands of loose hair from her eyes. A pair of red reading glasses was perched on her muzzle.

The dragon sighed, reaching into a burlap sack and grabbing a gem. She was mesmerizing, singing an old tune quietly as fabrics and gems transformed into beautiful and striking gowns.

A thought struck him. “Rare, have you finished your own dress yet?”

The unicorn snipped a section of fabric, laying the pink cloth on the workbench. Her face darkened, revealing the weariness set deep in her eyes. “I haven’t decided if I want to attend,” she said, absently stroking her face. The burn had healed to a light pink, but a ring of dark red surrounded an eye- a painful reminder of a burning beam that had struck her on the way down.

Twilight had explained burns were unlike lacerations or bruises. Fire was a powerful manifestation of magic, injuring ponies in ways not understood (although Twilight did publish several papers on the topic in the months after the accident). The wounds could be hidden, but impossible to heal. Not that she hadn’t tried, and Rarity proudly bore a faint scar where Twilight had attempted to draw blood.

“I’ll think about it, Spike.” She nuzzled the dragon gently. “There’s so much to be done. My mane is in terrible shape,” she said, pulling a ribbon from her mane. A scraggly, thin heap of purple hair fell forward.

The dragon’s eyes drifted around the room, mental cogs turning. Attending the ball was a must. “Maybe we can think of something together...” He leaned in for a kiss.

“Must be hard to think when you spend all day staring at my rump,” she said, swatting away his face. The mare trotted to a dress rack, hips swaying. “I’ve finished all of our friend’s dresses. Come take a look?”

They were masterpieces, the dragon gushed. Works of art in their purist form. Rarity’s style had evolved over the years, focusing on quality construction over gaudy showpieces. The dragon enjoyed teasing her with photos from their first Grand Galloping Gala. “Broaches? Sequins? A tiara? Really Rarity?”

He stopped at Twilight’s dress, examining the plain, inky fabirc. It felt light and fragile to the touch, like sheets of tissue paper. There was a matching amethyst necklace, painstakingly polished until it sparkled in the faintest of lights.

Rarity couldn’t suppress a gin as she bounded over, folding the gown up with quick, practiced hooves. “You know who our Twilight is going to the Gala with, right?” she said conspiratorially, leaning into Spike’s ear.

The dragon’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard from Twilight for a while. They had sent letters back and forth almost constantly, but the stream of mail had quickly slowed to a dribble, and then stopped. The idea of Twilight finding a mate rested strangely in head. “W-who?”

“You won’t believe it!”

“Who is it?”

Rarity flashed a cheeky grin. Gossiping was something she’d never outgrow. Spike could feel her hot breath on his ear as she whispered, “Rumor has it, our little Twilight Sparkle has been seeing Princess Luna for some very private lessons.” She followed up with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

“B-b-but Luna? And Twilight?” The dragon pursed his lips together in thought. “All those times they went stargazing.” His eyes widened in realization. He blanched. “So that’s what they were doing on that camping trip! They could have at least brought their own tent!”

The two broke out into hysteric laughter, crashing into the floor and rolling about, clutching their sides.

Catching his breath, Spike wiped a tear from his eye. “You have to go now.” With a surprised squeak, Rarity found herself pulled into a kiss. “Can’t miss the opportunity to see our star couple?”

She giggled, whispering, “I’d like to think we’d be the star couple of that night.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The unicorn got to her feet, rummaging through rolls of multi-hued fabrics. “But there is so little time, Spike! Two days hardly enough to make a dress, much less invent one from scratch.”

“We’ve done crazier.”

Spike joined her hunt, scavenging around the room, gathering up loose odds and ends with renewed vigor.

-
Dear Princess Luna,

It’s been too long since we’ve last talked. How is Celestia doing? Things are going well in Ponyville, and we all eagerly await the night of the Grand Galloping Gala.

I write to you to humbly request a favor...

-

Spike,

I’d be honored to help. I better be invited to the wedding.

-

The castle of studded with luminescent globes of light, it’s golden rays projecting far beyond Canterlot. A procession of ponies slowly snaked their way into the great hall, the air abuzz with laughter and restless chatter.

“It’s beautiful,” Rarity whispered, eyes shining from the castle’s luminescent glow. “Although Twi and Luna may have gone a tad overboard. As if on cue, a rocket screeched into the night sky before bursting into thousands of shimmering lights.

Spike grinned. “Always knew she had a fun side in her.”

The paparazzi went insane, bursting into neighing cacophony of questions and camera flashes. Princess Luna smiled mysteriously, a wing draped over Twilight. The unicorn did her best to maintain a demure expression, but eventually broke out into a fit of nervous giggles, blushing furiously as the alicorn led her down the path to the castle.

A collective murmur of ‘awws’ followed Fluttershy and Big Mac, who swiftly trotted into the hall, tight smiles plastered on their faces. Rarity had selected a soft white for Fluttershy’s dress, the most elegant gown of the evening. Her hair was tied into an elegant braid, studded with tiny white flowers. A small bump was barely visible on her stomach.

The procession continued. Applejack and Rainbow Dash, linked arm in arm, trotted confidently down the red carpet. Pinkie Pie, despite arriving to the event a single mare, had somehow procured a handsome brown stallion in the past five minutes. They skipped past the throngs of ponies, singing a chirpy dance number about the wonders of time travel.

Spike offered his arm, watching the door close after the pink pony. An hush fell over the crowd- they turned expectantly to face the next pair. “Are you ready, my lady?”

With a deft hoof, she slipped on a mask, fitting it snugly over half her face. “Let us depart, dear Spike. We shouldn’t keep the crowd waiting.”

They emerged from the darkness, stepping gingerly onto the carpet.

Hushed whispers. Photographers steadied their cameras.

The dragon wore a simple fitted suit, complementing his wiry, lean figure- almost the height of an adult stallion. A ruby bowtie clasped his neck. He turned to Rarity, a wide smile on his face.

An audible gasp, followed by the chatter of a thousand of jaws collectively dropping. Twilight, who was half-watching the procession, lost focus. A firework went skittering into the sky. “Is that...Rarity?”

Her flowing purple mane was cut daringly short, forming tousled spikes that framed her delicate features. Half of her face was enveloped in a brilliant red mask, adorned with gold accents that glittered in the moonlight.

A collective gasp arose when she turned to face the crowd, revealing scars that snaked up her muzzle and surrounded a deep, turquoise eye. Dull pink contrasted with fiery red, her face into a beautiful, guarded enigma. Her lips twisted into a demure smile. Dragon and pony, linked arm and arm, trotted on, each radiating confidence and glamour.

Her dress, made of layered red fabric, seemed to sway and flicker, as if containing the essence of fire itself. It was a tribute to the craft of dressmaking, testament to the wonders Rarity synthesized out of bolts of silk.

There were peals of laughter and shouts of astonishment when the pair reached their friends. Spike and Rarity had secluded themselves the day leading up to the Gala, giving only mysterious responses to those who asked questions.

“Oh my, Rarity...” Twilight’s voice trailed as she hugged her friend. “You’re stunning. Where did you get the idea for such a design?”

A mysterious smile flashed across the dressmaker’s face. “I had some inspiration.”

-
To Princess Luna’s utter mortification, Celestia had insisted on giving the introductory address to the Gala’s many guests. After five minutes, a red-faced Luna dragged her sister off the stage, to the guffaws of the crowd.

They were swarmed. Ponies were pressed hoof to hoof, craning their necks for a sight of the handsome dragon and unicorn that seemed to be birthed from fire.

After an eternity of polite answers and strained smiles, they slipped into a hallway, one of the many dark catacombs that snaked through the castle.

“Spike, where are we going?”

“I want to show you something.”

They reached the end of the narrow passageway, and the dragon pushed his way through a rusted door. The pair stepped out onto a small tower balcony, overlooking the castle grounds. Below them, Canterlot stretched on to the horizon, a mosaic of shining white buildings.

Above them, the moon flared with pale oranges and yellows, like sparks leaping off of a fire. The night sky was studded by stars, twinkling orbs of light in the far distance. They took a moment, reflecting on the perfect silence and stillness.

“Oh my,” the unicorn sighed, sitting on her haunches. She nuzzled Spike, her spiked mane tickling his neck. “What a marvelous night. Look at the moon, almost as bright as the sun."

The dragon’s heart thumped in his chest. “Something to remember this night by.”

He reached into his jacket, retrieving a simple silver necklace. Hanging from it was a transparent, flawless diamond, cut into an intricate, six-point heart. The unicorn gasped, eyes watering. With a gentle claw, the dragon rotated the gem. A beam of moonlight caught it, revealing a deep, jagged cut running through the diamond. In the light, it sparkled a fiery red, more vivid and passionate than anything Rarity had ever seen.

“They call this the Parum Cicatriz.” He tenderly placed the necklace over her head. The gem rested, hanging loosely from her neck. “The Little Scar," he whispered.

The dragon dropped to a knee. He felt faint, but his voice came out tender and confident. Equestria stood still for a moment. “Rarity, will you marry me?”

With a delighted gasp Rarity tackled the dragon, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled and caught her in a tight embrace. “Yes yes yes,” she whispered, planting a teary kiss on his lips.


A/N:

As always, thank you for reading, tracking, rating, and commenting. You rock. Epilogue to come.