Simple Dreams

by BlazzingInferno

Storybook Exhibition

This wasn’t Spike’s first brush with doomsday, but it was shaping up to be the most back-breaking to date. Sweat poured down his brow as he tried to keep pace with Rarity’s quick trot with half of the shop’s merchandise balanced on his back. A long line of ponies followed behind him with the other half, an impromptu workforce Rarity somehow mustered somewhere between his throwing everything he could into taxi after taxi after taxi and then surviving a careening ride through Canterlot’s busy streets. Rainbow Dash would’ve been so proud.

A massive building loomed just ahead of them, its drab paint job and giant “Canterlot Expo Hall” signage practically invisible behind the cheery “Canterlot Wedding Exhibition - Today Only!” banners and collections of pink and white balloons. Spike didn’t know it was possible to have that many party supplies in one place without summoning Pinkie Pie.

The only thing bigger than the building was the line to get in: a rainbow-colored wall of bodies obscured the entire front entrance, and the excited chatter seemed to shake the air just as much as the rumble of the hooves shook the ground. “How’re we supposed to get in?”

“There’s a side entrance for exhibitors, just over here. This is far from my first show in the Canterlot Expo Hall, with its miserable acoustics, barely serviceable powder rooms, and… but why am I complaining about the venue? I should be apologizing to you, Spikey, apologizing for our first real day together being co-opted by all of this madness, and thanking you for all you’ve already done to get me through it! Whenever we’re free again, which I’m sorry to say is likely to be many hours from now, we’ll pick up right where we left off. We’ll get a late dinner, or an extremely late hot chocolate and donut if it comes down to it.”

As they rounded the building’s corner the promised side entrance came into view, flanked by burly guards, velvet rope, and a bright red “Exhibitors Only” sign. One look from Rarity was all it took to have the rope pulled aside and the doors propped open, and one look was all it took to realize just how much madness they were in for. Despite its size, the building seemed to be one big shell: four walls and a roof surrounding a massive indoor space as big as Canterlot Castle’s grand ballroom, and every inch of it seemed to be decked out in formal attire. Wedding dresses, wedding tuxedos, wedding centerpieces, wedding invitations, wedding cakes, and everything else that could possibly be expected at a formal party looked to be on display.

Booths from vendors all across Equestria, from Appleloosa Formal Carriages to Manehattan Authentic Catering to Saddle Arabian Destination Getaways lay stretched out before them in neat rows like aisles at the world’s biggest and most expensive supermarket. Only one empty spot seemed left, a dark corner booth near the door with a bright white sign and elegant purple lettering: “Canterlot Carousel by Rarity.”

Sighing, Spike dropped his load of merchandise next to the empty booth. “I guess there’s no backing out, now that everypony knows you’re supposed to be here.”

Rarity zipped from one corner of the booth to the next, directing her helpers on where to leave their load one moment and then writing furiously on a notepad the next. “Set that here, thank you. We don’t have much in the way of decorations, which just means the product itself will be the sole focus. It’s risky, but we don’t have a lot of options at this point. That one can go over here, thank you again!”

Spike looked over the competition, each neighboring booth more elaborate than the last, and tried to put on a brave face. “We can do this. We just have to… set out all your bride and bridesmaid dresses, impress a bunch of ponies—”

“Not just any ponies, Spikey, brides! Brides in need of formal apparel for their entire wedding party! We must do everything we can to make them feel at home, and to find the dress or dresses of their dreams.”

He nodded. “Got it. Just let me know what to—aah!”

The magic lights were back, this time circling around his middle like sharks. A jump and a sidestep barely saved him, but not before a whiff of dusty library air hit him. That was a close one, too close considering what was at stake. Real or not, he couldn’t leave Rarity to deal with this show all by herself. He’d just have to spend the rest of the day on the run, dodging the return to reality however long it took to get through this. Having a donut or two with her beside him wouldn’t hurt either.

Rarity peeked over the wall of boxes now lining the booth. “What was that? If you’re free I could desperately use your help back here, Spikey! We barely have an hour before the guests come in.”

Spike squared his shoulders and marched forward. “Let’s do this.”

---

The hour of frantic preparation flew by, and a myriad of dresses literally did the same. Legions of boxes turned into lines of mannequins ready to walk down the aisle, racks of colorful bridesmaid ensembles, and every conceivable style of veil and train to accessorize with. Other booths might’ve had fancier signs or decorations, but to Spike that’s all they ended up looking like: a fancy design. Rarity’s looked like exactly as it was supposed to: a high-fashion dress shop in miniature. He could only hope the guest ponies saw it, and her, the way he did.

A magically amplified voice echoed through the hall, drowning out all the chatter. “Attention exhibitors, the doors will be opened in just a minute. Remember, our most important guests of all are being given white sashes reading ‘Bride To Be’ at the door. Please do all you can to help them plan the wedding of their dreams!”

Spike ran behind the booth’s counter, stood next to Rarity, and flashed her a smile. “We did it! Are you ready?”

Rarity draped a hoof across his shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze. “I believe I am, against all odds. Just remember, some mares become rather… difficult when planning their nuptials. Be respectful, be courteous, and don’t take it personally if you don’t get the same treatment in return.”

He saluted her. “Level four Twilight study session, got it.”

The announcer’s voice echoed across the hall again, and this time Spike spotted the raised platform at a far corner, like a lifeguard station next to a pool, where a pony was speaking into an enormous megaphone. “All right, everypony, it’s showtime. Unleash the brides.”

Spike set his hands on the counter and turned toward the entrance with his best smile in full effect, ready to point out the white-sashed ponies and make sure they got Rarity’s full attention. And then he saw them, the advancing wall of mares choking the hallway and the unbroken line of white sashes adorning each one, like the battle standard in a military assault. “They’re all brides? All of them?”

Rarity either didn’t share his shock or didn’t notice it. She was too busy waving a foreleg at the approaching army and launching her own opening volley. “Welcome to the Canterlot Carousel, darlings! All of our wedding attire is crafted with the greatest attention to—”

The customers, and the questions, came hard and fast.

“Is this one available with more ruffles?”

“Where’s the wing holes?”

“What would you recommend for a chartreuse-camomile theme?”

“I need five of these in teal with pink trim!”

Even if Spike knew how to answer, there wasn’t a single syllable-wide gap in the conversation to deliver one. That didn’t stop Rarity, of course: “Fill out a special order form, please. Pegasus-friendly options are on the upper left. Personally I think the one just to your right does wonders for your eyes, dear. Splendid, my lovely sales associate will take down your information so we can arrange all the fittings and particulars. Spike, if you please?”

A stack of order forms flew out of a box on the ground right into Spike’s chest. His catching them seemed to clue the ten mares with hooves pressed to the counter that he too was an animate sales-creature capable of answering questions and suddenly papers were flying everywhere, out of his hands to be filled out and then back in for filing. This he could handle, this he did for hours at a time when Twilight was onto something, although to be fair there was only ever one Twilight compared to the multitude of customers vying for his attention all at once.

He held up a half-completed form, scratching the eraser end of a pencil against his temple, and dared to speak. “Wait, who needed the six—”

“Five!” one of the mares shouted, holding up a bridesmaid’s dress. “In teal with pink trim!”

“Right. Teal… pink trim… just sign here and put down your contact—”

Magic snatched the paper away, and if he ever got it back he couldn’t tell. A half-dozen more half-spoken conversations turned into a half-dozen more order forms to file. Just as panic started to set in, if that was possible considering how little he could even think, relative silence returned. The mares were gone and their infamous Bride-To-Be sashes were no longer staring him in the face.

A bubble of empty space had mysteriously formed around the booth, and all Rarity did in response was fan herself and chuckle. “Well, I’d say we’re off to a great start!”

Spike glanced left and right at the customers currently swarming the neighboring booths with the same savage ferocity, and realized the awful truth. “They move in packs?”

Rarity nudged him with her back leg and whispered “here comes another” before launching into her sales pitch.

His claws sank into the stack of order forms propped in front of him, the smallest and flimsiest of shields. How did Rarity keep up? How did she keep it all straight? Making and selling beautiful dresses was one thing, but being a sales-pony extraordinaire was something he clearly hadn’t given her enough credit for, yet another superpower he lacked.

As if in answer to his unspoken questions, a piece of notebook paper slid across the countertop. Spike looked from it to Rarity just in time to catch her winking. On the paper were answers to thirty or more common questions in neat and organized print, followed by a curving script that read “refer the harder questions to me. You’re an inspiration and a lifesaver, Spikey. Whether or not this is the day we planned, I’m so grateful to be sharing it with you.”

His heart skipped a beat, and a moment later he nearly skipped over a customer’s question about sleeve length options, which she was only too willing to repeat at a shout.

The customers mostly came in waves, either a bride and her friends or just a group of brides that all insisted on getting served first before the best stuff sold out. Most of the questions they peppered him with were right off Rarity’s list: fittings by walk-in or appointment, one-of-a-kind designs, from nine to three Tuesday through Saturday, yes the Rarity that saved the world that one time, and that other time too. Tougher questions went to the fashionista herself, and in those moments Spike caught bits and pieces of her own conversations with customers, some rapid-fire but some strangely long-winded.

A pink mare in a sweeping magenta hat topped with peacock feathers currently had her full attention, helped in part by her hat’s extremely wide brim blocking off most of the counter space. The mare rolled a swatch of fabric between her hooves, looking like she expected a disgusting insect to crawl out of it. “I’ll accept nothing less than what you chose for your own wedding ensemble. Tell me, what did a fashionista such as yourself wear? Something stunning and truly timeless, I’m sure.”

Rarity’s blushing seemed to elevate the temperature of the whole room. “Oh, well… I-I don’t happen have gotten married myself yet, but—”

The mare in the hat gasped and threw down the fabric swatch. “You mean to say you… you dare try to sell me a wedding dress that you yourself wouldn’t wear?”

A gasp swept through the ponies within earshot, Rarity included. “Now see here, madam, that is not at all what I—”

The mare in the hat turned and walked away. “Perhaps some of the other dressmakers here will be more upfront with their… inadequacies.”

Rarity let out a growl worthy of a timber wolf. “I’ll have you know I’ve dressed royalty on multiple occasions! Royalty!”

“It’s true!” Spike offered in an equally offended voice. “Remember Princess Cadence’s wedding? Who do you think… ugh.”

He may as well have been shouting into the wind. The mare with the hat was gone, and within a minute any pony who’d overhead their heated exchange had melted back into the churning crowd.

Still glaring, he rapped his fist on the counter and looked at Rarity. “That’s so unfair! Whoever said the customer is always right definitely never worked in modern retail.”

Rarity offered him a small, pained smile. “Please excuse that little outburst. Not every waking minute of a fashionista’s life is glamorous, but we can’t let it ruin our whole day. Just think, an evening stroll, a candlelit dinner… and possibly a spa trip for hoof massage if circumstances allow. I forgot how insufferably hard these floors are.”

“I could always, uh…” he looked to her hooves on the stone floor, heard another bride’s call for exhibitor blood, and lost his nerve. Maybe someday, if only this were real.

“Hmm, what was that?” Rarity had turned back the crowd, in search of their next customer.

“Nothing.”

At least the crowd drowned out the awkward silence.

Barely a minute passed before another group of brides approached the booth and had Rarity turning on the salespony charm. “Welcome to the Canterlot—”

“Is it true you’re not even married?” One of them blurted, as if they’d heard Rarity only showered once a year.

Rarity shivered. “Excuse me? Regardless of what you may have heard, ladies, I assure you that I am one of the foremost fashionistas in Equestria, and have seen ponies married in my dresses more times than I care to—”

“So no?”

“Correct, although that couldn’t be more irrelevant, or improper to ask for that matter. Now if you’d like to see some of my latest—”

“Oh it’s totally relevant,” the mare replied, her expression stern. “I’m not buying from a pony that doesn’t get romance. My wedding dress has got to scream ‘love’ and ‘passion’ like it’s on fire.”

Spike braced for impact, but Rarity merely laughed one of her end-this-uncomfortable-moment-with-the-least-social-damage laughs; he’d heard those more than he’d care to think about, usually in Pinkie or Rainbow Dash’s company. “Oh dear, I see the misunderstanding now. I might not be married, but allow me to introduce—” Spike was pulled closer by her magic until her foreleg could take over “—the absolute love of my life, who was kind enough to help here today when my regular salespony fell ill.”

The group of mares shared a knowing “ooh!” and smiled, this time with some genuine care, Spike thought. He did his best to smile just as convincingly. “Y-yep, that’s me!”

“Wow,” the same mare said, “your fiancé is so different from what I expected. Congratulations!”

Through her foreleg Spike could feel Rarity’s jackhammer of a heartbeat. He smiled all the same and waved his one free hand. “Thanks! I-I’ve never been happier!”

And under halfway normal circumstances that would’ve been true. Being shanghai-engaged wasn’t the worst dream he’d ever had, and maybe it’d head off the rumor about Rarity being unfit to design wedding dresses.

Possibly because he’d clearly bought into the game, Rarity continued. “Having a… partner like Spike truly makes every dress a team effort, a labor of love. No matter how simple or extravagant each of your weddings is intended to be, rest assured that every dress from Canterlot Carousel is positively overflowing with romantic feeling, a page from a romance novel brought to life.”

The mares all swooned.

Rarity’s vice-grip on him eased.

Spike sighed with relief.

He retrieved the stack of order forms and held them up. “And if the dresses on display here aren’t enough, just fill out a form and Rarity will be in touch with each of you for design specifications and filling.”

“Fitting, dear, fitting,” Rarity whispered.

“Right, fitting!”

All of the mares took a form, filled it out, and set it back on the counter. Spike counted down as they did: five forms until the crisis is over, then four, then three, then two, but the last never arrived. The final mare, her friends now accosting the next exhibitor, tapped the form to her nose while she looked the booth up and down. “I dunno. If I were you I’d get that sign updated. Canterlot Carousel by Rarity? Just Rarity? Way to sell your future hubby short.”

Rarity spoke through clenched teeth. “What an accurate observation of an unfortunate oversight. Good day.”

The mare deposited her order form and waved happily as she hurried off.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Rarity continued in a tone that could’ve peeled the paint off the walls. “Congratulations, Spike, you’ve just received a battlefield promotion to fiancé and co-owner! You may now kiss the bride!”

Spike took small, noiseless steps until he’d backed himself to the far corner of the booth. “Want me to file these order forms or—” he coughed out a few sparks “—‘misplace’ them?”

Rarity tilted her head back and held a foreleg over her eyes. “Why don’t you decide, future hubby? Clearly a fashionista’s personal life now matters more than the dresses she creates! What have I started? It won’t stop now, whatever it is. Next will come more probing questions, and gossip columns in the paper, and Celestia help us both when Twilight hears of this! By the time Sassy comes back to the shop she’ll think she’s still having a fever dream.”

He opened his mouth to say something comforting, but came up short. Even asking what he could do to make this better seemed pointless. As usual he was powerless in the face of true disaster. The best he could manage was standing still long enough for this all to go away in a flash of light, but what about her? What if this was real and all he could do was wait for somepony else to figure a way out of the latest death trap threatening to destroy him and his friends? Isn’t that what he always did? Why was he always just the support?

The announcer’s voice boomed over the din of a thousand conversations. “We’ve reached the halfway point, everypony! Just two and a half more hours to secure your own personal storybook wedding, the happiest day of your life!”

Rarity burst into tears and buried her head in a collection of silk scarves on the countertop.

Spike rushed forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, but skipped the halfhearted assurances that everything would be fine. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to go fix this. Just follow my lead.”

She waved him away, her voice muffled by the scarves. “Just go! Leave me and escape with your life while you still can! Even a mud pit on Applejack’s farm would be an improvement. I’m sorry I ever dragged you to this awful place, Spike.”

After a moment’s hesitation he gave her shoulder a small squeeze and whispered “I’m not” in her ear. He ran into the crowd before she could respond, and before he could lose his willingness to take matters into his own hands.

Weaving through the crowd took some effort. Everywhere he turned another wave of Bride-To-Be sashes threatened to block his way, and more than once a glint of bright light made him cut ponies off or dive under a booth. “Oh no, I’m not done yet. Maybe we can’t have a romantic dinner, but we’re getting out of here, both of us.”

A set of metal steps led up to the announcer’s raised platform, guarded by a velvet rope. Spike waved to the stallion sitting by the megaphone, leaning back in a chair with a book in his magic grip. “Hey, excuse me!”

When the stallion didn’t react, Spike ducked under the rope, certain that Twilight just felt a chill run down her back, and climbed the steps. The stallion shifted in his chair. “Something wrong?”

“There’s going to be if I don’t make an announcement.”

“Huh?”

Spike approached the megaphone and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, everypony, I need to tell you all something.”

Within ten seconds the whole hall went dead silent, and all of the sudden he was staring into the face of the monster, into each of its thousands of hungry eyes and sneering mouths, all of them ready to glare and shout him into oblivion. In a dream or not, he’d met his match, he’d found the moment where an actual hero was supposed to take over while he stood off to the side.

The chair creaked as the stallion got up, no doubt to push him down the monster’s throat. “Now hold on there, you can’t just—”

Spike bared his teeth and puffed smoke out his nostrils. There weren’t any heroes here, and that just left him. Even if Rarity deserved better, in this moment he would have to do. “Yes, I can. It’s an emergency.”

He returned his attention to the crowd and caught sight of a still-crying Rarity as he did. In that moment he realized how wrong he’d gotten it: the legion of brides wasn’t the monster at all. The monster was his own cowardice, his always playing it safe no matter what it meant not doing, what it meant not saying.

“I just wanted you all to hear how much Rarity means to me. You can all see how beautiful she is, but she’s also kind, generous, and makes me feel like the luckiest dragon in the world every time she smiles.”

The lights had found him again, twinkling all around like tiny stars. Diving out of the way now meant leaving too much unsaid, leaving Rarity to the wolves.

“There’s no pony I’d rather be here or anywhere with. There’s no pony I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. She might not be perfect, but she’s perfect for me!”

He’d stolen that last line from an open page of one of Rarity’s romance novels, but the assembled crowd either didn’t know or didn’t care. A collective, sugary “awww!” was followed by cheers, applause, and, as Spike hoped, a rapid shift in hoof traffic. Suddenly ponies were running toward the booth of the fashionista who definitely knew romance and definitely qualified to design wedding apparel. All it took was playing into the theme, offering the brides-to-be the storybook romance that they were here to capture and hold onto at any price.

Even at a distance Spike could feel Rarity’s smile, and the kiss she blew to him felt so real and passionate that he rocked back on his heels. The lights were racing around him now, a magical celebration of his victory over a lesser part of himself. In a dream or in reality, he’d always have this triumph to hang onto.