• Published 12th Nov 2012
  • 5,821 Views, 261 Comments

Awards of the Heart - Twifight Sparkill



• After saving the Crystal Empire, a modest Spike is left both confused and concerned with having been declared a national hero.

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The Dressmaker's Displeasure

Awards of the Heart: The Dressmaker's Displeasure – by Twifight Sparkill

Spike couldn’t help but fidget under Rarity’s attentions; the initially proposed minutes required for his alterations had since turned into nearly a solid torturous hour, forced to stand stock still upon an ornate pedestal in the center of her Boutique as she worked to fit his new outfit.

The unicorn bustled about him, fiddling with the finer details of her current custom appointment – a shockingly stately black adornment, accented with specific fineries at the cuffs and collar, manufactured and measured with the very keenest of visions. However, for each stroke of a chalk bit, every snip or pin to set, the slightest instance would require a painstaking investigation which resulted in an immediate trial and error venture that, quite frankly, left him feeling more uncomfortable than he already was.

He didn’t dare say a word.

As Spike and everyone else that knew Rarity had come to accept, her requiring to attend every aspect in an unwavering pursuit of perfection empowered the fashionista – there simply was no argument to be had, the answer being as adamant as law: nothing was complete until she deemed it absolutely fabulous. The garment wouldn’t be permitted an audience until positively worthy of a grand presentation, and nothing short of exhaustive obsession would dare to determine such. Or recalculation, as the case was.

The dragon breathed a mournful sigh, well aware he’d be held captive until given his beautiful warden’s relenting permission to even flinch – no matter how many imperceptible errors, how many colored drapes or matching shaded swathes or flailing threads tied to sharp needles piercing hither and thither, how many countless redirections or reassertions via the whim of her vexing artistic vision, this sentence was crucial to the success of Rarity’s pursuit of genius – it was an absolute must he remain completely still, lest he suffer the consequences.

Mind, having the talented seamstress he'd secretly adored from afar fawn so closely over his countenance, it was almost nearly worthwhile having to be so aggressively statuesque; at least she was excited to be with him and about him, at any rate. That wasn't so bad.

Always good to take stock of the little victories, hm?

“Please lift your left arm, Spike.” Rarity issued, remeasuring about his little paws. “Sleeves should break just at the wrist and allow a little bit of shirt cuff to show, mm? For your personal tailoring specifics, I had to hem the cuff of your sleeve from the tip of your thumb so as to make it fit as precisely as possible. It’s not a common practice pour Moi, but as your structure is vastly different from that of ponies and we simply cannot have anyone miss out on those staggeringly beautiful cufflinks I made for you, we must be doubly sure everything is hanging at its proper length.”

He followed her instructions, quietly wondering when she'd be adequately appeased with all this incessant fussing – really, was it so important Spike be a stunning figure amongst a bunch of dignitaries that dwarfed him? He wasn't entirely sure anyone would notice him, even if he burst into flames amidst the procession.

“Thank you! You can relax for the time being,” Rarity nodded approvingly. “I need to borrow this a moment – don’t sit down and crease those pants! I’ll be right back once I've placed these shoulders properly, hm?”

A sapphire blue haze of summoned magic removed Spike’s coat, popping it to rest atop her main workbench.

“Take your time Rarity,” he exhaled gratefully, slouching from exhaustion. “I mean that. Whatever you have to do, take as much time as you need.”

“I've only a few adjustments left dear,” she chimed, turning to check on various notes and revisions. “You must be the brilliant star of the show, after all – this is your big moment! A grand celebration of extreme bravery befitting a bonafide hero! I am so proud of you!” Rarity smiled, turning to address the little dragon properly. “We all are! I simply cannot wait to see you up in front of all Equestria, accepting your justly earned accolades! Especially in this outfit - you're almost too adorable in it! I could just eat you up!”

Spike hopped to the floor, placed both paws at the small of his back, and pushed to the relieving sound of loud pops. “Who knew being a hero could be so painful?” He chuckled, offering a tired smile. “It all feels a bit surreal, you know? I mean, to be fair, it was Twilight’s sacrifice and Shining Armor tossing poor Princess Cadance at me that got us the Crystal Heart! I just happened to be falling to my doom at the time!"

“Tut, you’re being far too modest,” Rarity scolded playfully. “Why, if you hadn’t disobeyed poor Twilight and followed her into the underground chambers, there wouldn’t even be a Crystal Empire.”

She unfurled the tunic carefully before addressing Spike with a serious gaze, moving to place a reassuring hoof on his shoulder.

“You were very brave that day, willing to sacrifice as much as Twilight or anyone else to save those poor ponies from a wretched existence of slavery at the hooves of an oppressive tyrant. You deserve every medal and ribbon Equestria has. Like everypony else throughout the lands, we're humbled and grateful for your heroism.”

The small dragon paused, considering Rarity’s words thoughtfully.

“I hate to break this to you, but… I kind of just did what anyone else would have done,” he admitted. “Is it really so important that we make a big deal about it? I mean, I'd be just as happy with a plate of precious stones and a mug of Applejack’s special cider.”

“That cider isn’t made for baby dragons,” Rarity shushed, placing a gentle kiss atop his crested head. “Besides, being a hero is absolutely worthy of attention – it inspires and enriches the greatest of poems and prose, reminding those who have no recourse that there remains true justice and recognition for the noblest of acts. Don’t you want to be recognized for your moment of glory, Spike? After all the travels and trials we’ve all been through throughout the years we’ve been best friends, don’t you think you should have the spotlight for a change?”

“… not really,” Spike admitted.

She gawked at him in disbelief.

“C’mon Rarity, let’s be realistic,” the dragon bemoaned. “I’m not a member of the famous Elements of Harmony, now am I? I’m just an orphaned baby dragon that Twilight hatched during her entrance exam for Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns – she got to keep me as a reward. I mean… a lot of the time? To be completely honest? I don’t even feel like I belong here.

The unicorn knit her brows, wearing a stern frown.

“It’s like some weird dream, being surrounded by all these amazing ponies that’ve saved Equestria countless times – I mean, I get to be the sidekick to a group of actual heroes!” Spike gestured, making grand sweeps to communicate the praise he genuinely felt for his wondrous companions. “I tell you, it’s totally awesome – I’m like your biggest fan! Er… I mean, of all you guys, not just you Rarity,” he spoke, subtly suppressing a nervous cough. “You six have done more for Equestria than anyone in history! Nightmare Moon, even Discord and the Changeling Queen – they didn’t stand a chance against you! You guys kick serious flank!”

Spike paused then, staring absently at the floor. His chest began to tighten.

“… I mean, despite what happened, how could I believe I’m anything special compared to you six?” He wiped his eyes, finding an unexpected well of emotion sticking in what was a very heartfelt admittance. “I'm a sidekick; I delight in the company of legends. How... how does that make me even matter at all? You could've managed well enough without me, I figure...”

Rarity's lower lip began to quiver – not for any sort of sorrow, but rather a barely contained fury.

“You have got to be joking, Spike!” she exclaimed in a tone that threw the dragon off guard - the sort of scornful measure reserved for scoundrels and thieving drek. “How can you be so thoughtless? So outright cruel? So selfish and insensitive? I can't believe you!”

“Um,” the dragon mused, tapping his chin in consideration. “Did I just totally miss something here?”

“Yes you most certainly did!” Rarity snarled, tears welling up in her azure eyes. “You are casting aspersions upon a very close friend of mine, and I will not stand for it! Someone whom I’ve become unwaveringly fond of; someone I love unconditionally and completely. I will not stand here and listen to you belittle and degrade a figure of such outstanding and impeccable character – I will not stand for it, do you hear me?”

Spike stood there, slack-jawed and horribly confused.

“Er, who exactly are you talking ab—”

“You!” she chastised. “You, Spike! Have you no idea how much we need you and love you? You’re one of the most wonderful, most genuine spirits to have ever come into our lives! How could you belittle yourself so, especially to me? How could you… how could you think we don’t respect you and adore you? Why, Spike? Why would you even dare to think for one minute that you weren't one of the most important individuals in our lives? Oooh, how dare you! How dare you!”

Spike just blinked. He couldn’t find a single word to offer in retort.

“I’ll be finished these little alterations in a moment,” the unicorn huffed, turning her nose up in disgust, marching back to the design table where Spike's jacket lay. “You just think about what you’ve said, mister. We’re not even close to being done discussing this, oh no – not by a long shot! Do you hear me?”

"... yes," he muttered.

This was likely going to be the longest outfitting ever.

To be Continued.