> The Seventh Star
>  by Mr Page
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> PART I
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Seventh Star



by Mr. Page



* * * * * * *



~ ~ ~ PART I ~ ~ ~


The sun gleamed brightly in the blue sky and all under its rays rejoiced.  Equestria's newest princess had just been crowned and throughout the land, people were celebrating.  None, however, compared to those in Canterlot.
An hour had passed since the coronation began and of the many who attended the regal event and went to celebrate outside, only one had retreated back into the building from where it all started.
The majestic Ceremonial Hall, adorned with pillars, candles, and an open balcony, laid quiet except for a few cheerless sighs from its sole visitor, seated on the top step of the Hall’s podium.  His tiny purple claws were clasped together, resting on his small knees.  His scaly head was bowed and his green eyes were closed.
After what had been a long, strenuous period of thoughts spinning and repeating, the small creature turned his head to look at a particular spot on the podium.
Not too very long ago — only a few months, in fact — he had stood in that spot for a wedding and played the role of ring bearer.  Regardless of the frightful changeling invasion that preceded it, the wedding ended up being a cheerful one, one he had been happy and honored to be part of.
How intriguing that, not too long after, he would return to stand in the same spot for another grand occasion — this time for a coronation to bestow a crown.  Another great honor, a once-in-a-lifetime event that he, again, was thankful to attend and, above all, be included.
Like the wedding, it was an event he knew he would always remember.  Unlike the wedding, his emotions that followed the coronation were, unfortunately, quite different.
Spike let out another sigh and turned to stare back down the few steps on which he sat.  Looking ahead down the long, empty hall, his thoughts swam with the painful facts he couldn’t force away.  Like hot pins they seemed to poke him all over, reminding him in little snide whispers.  All he could do about it was close his eyes, trying and failing to fight the anguish of the awful truth.
‘Twilight . . .’


* * * * * * *


It was still hard to believe.  Twilight Sparkle, his best friend since he hatched, his mentor to the pony way, had grown and risen to the title of Princess.  To say Spike felt unhappy about this wasn’t true.  Spike was very proud of Twilight, and hopeful for her.  She had proven herself, gained a spot in royalty, and achieved her destiny — all in the course of one day.  Now an alicorn, and a princess to boot, the entire world awaited her and the amazing future she would undoubtedly bring.
She had earned it, totally and completely.  In Spike’s green eyes, no pony was more worthy of the status or destiny than Twilight.  Sadly, though, Spike couldn’t ignore what all of this meant for himself.
He hadn’t realized it at first, but then, how could he have?  He had been too caught up in the glorious moment, same as everypony else.
When he saw Twilight float down from the night sky and onto the grounds of Ponyville with her new wings, Spike was, at first, speechless.  But as the image sank in, excitement took him.  He began imagining himself and Twilight flying across Equestria, having loads of new adventures and all sorts of tasks to complete together.  A whole world of new, exciting possibilities were now open to them.  During that moment, when he, Celestia, and his friends gave the new princess her first bow of respect, Spike couldn’t have felt happier.
The morning came and, as everypony waited in Canterlot’s Ceremonial Hall, elegantly dressed for the momentous occasion, Spike felt an odd scratchy feeling in his chest.  At first he thought it came from the task Princess Celestia had granted him of handing Twilight her crown: a tiny, silly fear that he might trip or drop the crown or do some other embarrassing thing.  Quite easily, Spike ignored it.
The doors of the Hall opened and Twilight entered, wearing a beautiful dress of gold and pink.  Again Spike felt the twinge, but again it dissipated quickly.  His heart grew light as his best friend walked closer, accompanied by song and banners bearing her cutie mark.  He raised the cushion and watched the crown magically raise up and place itself on Twilight’s head.  Then, as she walked out onto the balcony with Princess Celestia and Luna, Spike’s heart thudded — this time heavily.
Standing where he was, Spike could hear Twilight’s speech of acceptance and gratitude.  Yet . . . for some reason, Twilight seemed farther away than she really was.
Spike remembered shaking his head at this, thinking himself silly.  Twilight was right in front of him, plain as day, coated in the balcony’s sunlight and surrounded by her friends and the two princesses.  She wasn’t far away; he could see her plainly.  So why. . . ?  He shook his head again.
Wanting to stand beside her, to be amongst the group, Spike raised his foot to go and join them, but the ponies had already turned around and were coming back.  Seizing the chance, he joined Twilight and their friends outside as they sang through the streets of Canterlot, stating that everything was “certainly fine”.
In that moment — that wonderful instant when they were all together — everything truly was.
But then, as Twilight flew off into the sky for the very first time, leaving the ground she had once been confined to walk, Spike’s chest ached in genuine, and slowly, his smile faded.  The thoughts that had been scraping at his heart had now fully torn through, and the farther Twilight flew, the more Spike became aware of it.
He pulled away from his friends, and not one pony turned their heads as he walked back to the building alone.  They were all too busy staring up in amazement at Twilight’s spectacle, and he couldn’t blame them.  It was incredible; truly it was.  But for him, it was also upsetting.  What was supposed to be a wonderful sight, Twilight’s shining moment, became, instead, a horrible realization which dawned on Spike like a dark oncoming storm.


* * * * * * *


Could it really have all just been an hour ago?  The Ceremonial Hall had been filled with praise, cheer, and music.  Now it stood empty and silent, resting like a sepulcher.
Seated, motionless except for his downcast eyes, Spike tried forcing his mind to hear those sounds again: the cheering, the voices, the happy admiration of his friends.  But no matter how he tried, the same images kept appearing: Twilight, her crown, her destiny, and the truth of it all, humming through Spike’s mind like a mournful dirge.
It couldn’t be ignored: the rank Twilight obtained for herself was one where Spike did not belong — her destiny, one he could not be part of.  Now that she was royalty, dozens of brand new assistants will surely answer Twilight’s every beck and call, providing all the help she would ever need.  Although Spike desperately wished his mind would fabricate some sort of hope, even a small one, he just couldn’t see any reason why Twilight would want him as her one and only assistant anymore, not when there were so many more experienced ponies to do the job.
She was a princess now and deserved the best — the very best — and he, sadly, was simply Spike.  How could he ever be worthy of serving a princess?
Gripping his knees, he closed his eyes and tried thinking ahead, clawing for some idea on what would happen next.
Would it happen in a few days time?  Will it be sprung on him like a surprise, just like Twilight's wings?
Where was he going to go?  Even if Spike were to stay in Ponyville or Canterlot or whatever place would have him, what would he do, what new role could he possibly play?  Who would he belong with?  Twilight had always been the center of everypony's attention, from their best friends to Equestria’s princesses.  And he?  Out of all of them, great and wonderful, what was he?  What had he ever been?  A little helper?  A measly tagalong in what was already a complete group?  Since when had Twilight ever really needed him when she had her five friends or Princess Celestia?
Tears began to surge behind Spike's tightly shut eyes.  It was with pain that he kept them from escaping.
Stinging from his denied tears, Spike glanced down the beautiful hallway, its elegant columns and arched windows a master’s work, all dedicated for the great princesses who reside in these walls.
He turned his sight toward the windows.  Outside, the graceful towers of Canterlot Castle rose and fell, reminding Spike how much bigger the whole palace was compared to this one small building.
Spike stared at the great castle with gloom.  There was no place for him there anymore.  Despite over the years that Princess Celestia had always lovingly welcomed him in her castle, Spike couldn't be fooled.  His admittance had always hinged on his role to Twilight, the sparkling star of Celestia's kingdom who had grown and now shined across the world.  He, in contrast, had merely served as Twilight's entrance exam and grew up learning to help whenever she needed it.  A student's assistant and nothing more. . . .
But Spike didn’t regret this.  He never had any frustration in aiding Twilight.  He had been happy to have the role, proud.  Some ponies might’ve viewed his job as being little more than a miniature butler, but not he, not Spike.  Being with Twilight, to help her, was all he wanted since before he could think, because those were his first happy moments, the first kind of happiness he remembered.  Growing up, Spike had learned to assist so that those moments would continue, whether it was helping Twilight hone her spell casting, marking things off her lengthy checklists, or even just picking up the open library books she had finished reading.
Twilight’s smile and gratitude became Spike’s motivation, his greatest reward as an assistant.  Sweets were fine and gems delicious, but it was the appreciation of his deeds that went deepest.  To hear Twilight say “thank you” for all he did was a treasure all its own, a treasure only Spike knew, because they were his, and his alone.
‘So what now?’ Spike thought miserably.  With Twilight as a princess and new assistants on the way, how will he go on, knowing he’ll never see or hear his greatest reward again?
Spike couldn't bear sitting any longer; if he did, he felt he might never have the strength to stand again.  He got to his feet and, with stiff legs, he descended the few steps and started down the quiet Ceremonial Hall.
He moved slowly, taking in every resounding footstep, beginning what felt like his final walk.


* * * * * * *


After exiting the Hall and descending a small flight of stairs, Spike entered a new hallway little different than the one he just left.  It was very similar in design: marble columns standing tall and elegant, flowering plants flourishing beautifully on the wall’s ledges, and the size of the hall (thanks to Spike’s current state) seemingly a mile in length.  The main difference was that this hall was mostly shaded.  Practically all the ceiling-high windows had heavy velvet curtains drawn, all except for three in which the sunlight poured through.
Spike stared ahead down the shadowy stretch.  The hall was completely deserted.  Most of the guards and other servants were probably still outside with the guests, cheering in their new princess.  Spike let out a sigh and it echoed deep and heavily around the empty passage.  He waited until it went silent, then started down the hall.
Spike had taken only a few steps when something on the floor caught his notice, right where the sunlight was touching the ground.  Curious, he jogged forward and stopped at the edge where the light from the first window left a clear, colored image on the red carpet.
Spike looked up and his heart eased a little from its pain.  Etched in the stained glass were seven ponies.  Six were in the lower panel: two unicorns, two pegasi, and two earth ponies.  Each was emitting a bright beam of light, directed at the large, dark alicorn above, cloaked in menacing armor.
It was the commemorative window to Twilight and her friends, the new Elements of Harmony, defeating Nightmare Moon.
Spike remembered back to that first day in Ponyville.  He had slept through the whole incident.  Regardless of the threat that had been made, his baby dragon nature had prevented him from staying up.
What would the results have been, he wondered, if he had had the strength to stay awake through that fateful night?  Would he have made any difference?  Would there be a little dragon standing next to the purple unicorn in the stained  glass?
Spike grimaced, despising himself for thinking this.  Any additional image would ruin the window’s symmetry and be a distraction.
The glass was the way it was suppose to be: Twilight and her five best friends.  Just the six of them, like it has always been. . . .
With his heart aching again, Spike resumed his walking.  Passing under it, the ponies from the stained glass washed over him like a waterfall of color.  They were wonderfully warm.  Or . . . perhaps it was just the sunlight.
Spike stopped and looked down to the red carpet again.  Not far from where the first was, another image shone on the floor with extremely similar patterns.  Turning to the face the opposite wall, Spike looked up.  There, in the hall’s second exposed window, were the same six ponies.  This time, in place of Nightmare Moon, there was what looked like a sea serpent made from the parts of several different creatures.
‘Discord’, Spike thought.  Another commemoration to the six great ponies: defeating the Spirit of Chaos, saving Equestria from endless disorder, and proving just how unbreakable and beloved their friendship is.  Again, there was no seventh member, no additional friend amongst the group.  Spike couldn’t help it this time; a neglected jealousy growled in his center.  A second later, he bowed his head, feeling childish.
Spike knew there was nothing he could’ve done to help; he wasn’t a wielder of the Elements of Harmony.  Despite how much loyalty he has for Twilight and their friends, he just doesn't embody Loyalty like Rainbow Dash, and so the Element didn’t work in the short minute he had it on.  The only help he really gave Twilight was getting the book with the Elements away from their corrupted friends — a two-on-four game of keep-away.
‘Yeah . . . you were very heroic there’, Spike thought sarcastically.
Without a second look, he turned away from the window.
Back in the more shaded part of the hall, Spike continued towards the door at the far end.  His sight was fixed down on the long expanse of red carpet, the six ponies still stuck in the back of his eyes.
Then, having walked a short distance, Spike came to a halt.  He lowered his eyebrows and squinted at the floor.
‘What the —’
At his feet, the color from the previous two windows seemed to manifest on the ground.  But how?  They were behind him, he had already passed their cast images.  And more importantly, why was he . . .
He looked up and his heart seemed to stagger, his breath fallen short.  He had forgotten about the third window.
Spike stared at it.  He was there.  Surrounded by brilliant blue glass, his arms were held outstretched, reaching for the blue heart at the window’s center.  Above the heart’s bright glow was Cadence, Princess of the Crystal Empire.
Spike took in every corner of the huge window and, as he did, his spirits lifted and his memory reeled back.
Shortly after the return from the Crystal Empire, and before she had spoken to Twilight, Princess Celestia had called Spike in to show him the newly fashioned window.  The baby dragon could hardly believe the work of art; he had never before achieved anything like this.  He was just about to hop in happiness when, with no warning, Celestia nuzzled his cheek.
‘I’m so proud of you, Spike,’ she had said tenderly.  ‘Twilight is so fortunate to have a friend like you.’
Spike remembered hugging Celestia in return, saying he was grateful, for the window, for her kind words.
But then Spike’s mind shot back to the present, and slowly, his happy attitude began to diminish.  The window was beautiful, yes, and Spike’s image at the bottom represented him boldly, surrounded in that large blue circle.  But there was no Twilight at the bottom, nor any of his other friends with him, and the baby dragon suddenly felt as lifeless as the huge glass image of himself.
Now that Spike thought about it, what was there for Celestia or anypony to be proud of?  All he did back at the Crystal Empire was bring the Crystal Heart to the fair, given the privilege only because Twilight wasn’t able to do it herself.  Other than that, what noteworthy thing had he done?  It was Cadence who released the Empire’s magic, she and the Crystal Ponies who powered the Heart, expelling the dark magic King Sombra thrived off of.  What was he, Spike, to thank for?
Sure, he played a role in saving the day, but it was little more than being a delivery boy.  He would’ve died if Cadence hadn’t caught him as he fell through the air.  The Empire would've fallen if not for Twilight’s brilliance and the Crystal Ponies’ raised spirits.  So why did Princess Celestia commemorate him for another’s triumph?  Why wasn’t Cadence and the Crystal Ponies reaching for the Heart, together as a group instead of the baby dragon doing it all alone?
But then Spike remembered.  It hadn’t really been about him or the others.  It had been about Twilight, tested in reviving the Empire and lifting the danger Sombra presented.  Granted, she hadn’t totally followed Celestia’s wishes, but she had, nevertheless, succeeded.  Twilight had made the right choice, choosing the safety and good of others over her own need to be a top-notch student.  Noble and unselfish, she passed the job of delivering the Crystal Heart onto Spike, and, as a result, saved the Crystal Empire.
He had only served a tiny part in the equation, a mere thread in compared to the grand design. . . .
Spike’s eyes began to sting again.  Twilight was the one who should be displayed on the window.  She was the far greater of the two.  Although, now that he thought of it, it wouldn’t match her new status.  She sat atop the highest pedestal now, was above stained glass windows, far and beyond being remembered simply for saving a kingdom or defeating tyrants.
Feeling smaller than he was, Spike turned away from the tall gleaming picture of himself and within moments, reached the door at the hall’s end.
Moving down the shaded stairwell, Spike quickly forgot about the stained glass windows.  The hallway he had left had been a marvelous distraction for his aching heart, but now he was back on track, heading towards the end.
‘Almost there . . .’ he thought with dread.
Spike was hardly aware of his own walking.  He was too preoccupied on his current state: still in Twilight's service, still her Number One Assistant.  This time that remained . . . it felt so precious, more valuable than it had in all his years in Twilight’s employ.  How strange that he had never appreciated his job like he did now.  Granted, there was that time he thought he lost it to Owlowiscious, but on that occasion he had simply overreacted.  This, on the other hoof, was real and coming close to being final.
All those times Spike complained about cleaning up messes and ink spills, those moments when he had to stack and alphabetize books, the long days when he didn't feel like working. . . .  What had he been doing, not realizing how fortunate he was?  He had a job, a home, friends, somepony by his side.  Soon there won’t be anything left except the memory of it all, and the dark unknown which lay ahead.
Spike only prayed that Twilight will, at least, remember him, and that her new assistants show her all the affection she deserves.
'She deserves the best,' he thought, trying to imagine who those lucky ones might be. . . .


* * * * * * *


He arrived at the bottom stair.
Slowly, Spike crossed into the final corridor and stopped to look ahead.  Though he stood a good distance from the building’s entrance, he could hear the cheering beyond the three open doors.  It sounded so happy, so filled with life. . . .
Spike forced his legs to move.  He must do it, he must face the end of his service, the end of his and Twilight’s. . . .
Step after step, the three doorways seemed to grow larger as he drew nearer, their frames separating the empty, shadowy foyer from the sunny, cheerful outside.
Spike stopped and stole a moment to breathe.  The light from the doorway stung his eyes, clouded from the shaded halls he had walked through.  His heart was pounding and his throat seemed to constrict.  He was footsteps away now.
‘I have to,’ Spike thought to himself, his mouth dry and eyes stinging.  ‘I want . . . I want to look at her one last . . .’
It was so hard to move.  Is this what being made of stone felt like?
Glaring down at the floor, Spike’s claws curled into fists.  Biting his lip, he growled inwardly at himself.  This was no time to hesitate; this could very well be his last chance.  Though he had no idea what he would do when he got there, and was, he could not lie, frightened, Spike knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t get one last look.
Inhaling, he let out a deep, quaking breath and, with all the force he could muster, Spike pushed himself forth through the doorway and out of the shade.
> PART II
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


~ ~ ~ PART II ~ ~ ~


Warm and blinding, the sunlight fell upon Spike, forcing him to squint.  Due to his many visits to Canterlot Castle in the past, Spike didn’t need to see clearly to know he was now standing outside at the top of this building’s entrance stairs.  From what he could tell, he was near the edge of the topmost railing.  Gripping it, he looked down to what knew was the courtyard.
His eyes took a few moments to fully adjust to the bright scene, but it took no time at all for Spike to spot them.  Faint though they were, their six colorful selves seemed to bypass the dazzling sun, filling every corner of Spike's vision until they became clear.
The coronation party was in full swing.  Colorfully curled streamers and banners stretched across the courtyard, balloons of every size and hue were tied to the many chairs and tables, lively music was being played and enjoyed, and the finest, tastiest food was laid out for any and all who wanted it.  Ponies were everywhere, chatting at tables or on hoof, celebrating in their own individual ways such as meeting up with old friends or having a small dance with new friends on the open green grass.
In one section of the courtyard, where the music was most vibrant and energetic, Pinkie Pie was dancing cheerfully and vigorously, spinning on her back like a top and bouncing all over the place, laughing and whooping.  Her smile was the biggest of the massive crowd, who found the pink mare’s laughter contagious and were taken by giggles, chortling, and outright roars.  To Spike’s own surprise, he found that he too was laughing a little.
‘Oh, Pinkie,’ thought Spike, shaking his head in amusement.  It really was funny. . . .  Even with his current thoughts, the bubbly pink mare could still make him laugh.
It felt good to laugh. . . .
Spike turned to another corner of the courtyard where delicious scents floated on the air.  Applejack was stationed at a table, handing out treats; most of them, to no surprise, were apple related.  Caramel apple cake and apple dumplings, apple muffins and frosted apple turnovers, sweet apple cider, dried apples mixed with nuts, and, of course, everypony’s favorite apple pies.  The food was spread out on the tables as though they had been arranged for a painting.  The composure was excellent and looked so appetizing that Spike almost felt hungry.
Seeing all of it, of how much there was to eat, reminded Spike of how hard a worker Applejack was.  To put together all that food in a short time, with such precise care and quality, all for Twilight’s big day — it was friendship at its tastiest, Applejack’s integrity the garnish on it all.
A spilt-second later, a multi-colored blur zoomed over the orange farm pony, nearly blowing off her hat.  It flew by so fast that, had Spike not known better, he would've thought he imagined it.  But of course Spike knew who it was, as did anypony who knew Ponyville's fastest flyer.
Rainbow Dash stopped in midair, her sky-blue wings flapping with ease.  She hovered for a brief moment and, as though the air demanded if of her, she took to the sky and flew in a spiral, leaving behind a colorful trail that matched her mane and tail.  Spike couldn’t help but be impressed, and his amazement increased when Rainbow shot back to the ground and flew speedily in a circle, making the colored spiral she made spin like a pinwheel.  
Spike stared in astonishment.  Rainbow Dash, despite her occasional arrogance, never failed to impress.  She worked and trained endlessly to perfection, and, being the devoted mare she was, she made sure her friend’s coronation was filled with excitement.  The crowd stomped in applause and hooted for more.  Not being one to keep a crowd hanging, Rainbow took off, ready to give more, for Twilight and everypony present.
Down by the stairs, a group of impressed high-class ponies were chatting.  Spike’s attention shot at once to the subject of their interest: a gorgeous snow white unicorn who shined like Luna’s moon on the sea.  Rarity was receiving compliments left and right for designing Twilight’s coronation dress, as well as for the one she herself wore and the dresses she prepared for her other friends.
Spike beamed serenely.  He had adored Rarity ever since he laid eyes on her inside her boutique.  That day seemed a lifetime ago, but regardless, Rarity was as beautiful as ever, still attracting the attention she so rightfully deserved.
Looking around the bustling courtyard, Spike thought he could make out her unique style on the mares and stallions, adorned in their dresses and suits.  Yes, there was no doubt Rarity had a part to play in such a formal celebration; her fashion practically spoke for itself.
Spike placed his claw over his heart in admiration of the snow-white mare.  He felt a shirt button.
‘What the . . .’ he looked down at himself, and found, to his surprise, that he too was wearing something of Rarity’s: a small tuxedo she made specially for him.
Spike left off a light chuckle.  He had felt so numb over the last hour that he forgot he was still wearing it.
The clothes rested gently against his scaly skin.  Rarity had taken the greatest care in making sure the fabric would be totally comfortable for Spike when he wore it.  It was perfect, and, if he must say, quite fancy.  The suit jacket, black and crisp; the white shirt, clean and soft; and the red bowtie, just the right size and wrapped snuggly around the collar.  Though it was small and seemed so simple, Spike admired every stitch Rarity had put in into it.  He will cherish the suit forever, a keepsake of the unicorn who taught him generosity, who will always hold a special place in his dragon heart.
The party’s energetic music stopped playing and was replaced by a softer tune.
Spike turned his sight back up to the courtyard.  Over by the tiny ponds, which consisted of some flowering bushes and other oriental plants, Fluttershy was hovering beside the shrubs and addressing colorful birds to fly to certain places and tweet merrily.  Spike could hear the chirps from where he was atop the stairs, and for a while, he just stood and listened.  It was a delightful melody, gentle yet graceful, like the yellow pegasus who communicated with the birds.
Spike remembered back to the first day he met the shy mare; she had been conducting a choir of birds at the time also.
‘And she thought I was cute,’ Spike thought, smirking at the memory.  Fluttershy, who’s afraid of dragons, thought he was cute.
To this day the adorable mare was so loving and gentle, so kind to him and all living creatures — a caregiver whose compassion had no equal.  Spike prayed this will never change about her, for the kindness Fluttershy held and shared with everypony was a treasure, more precious than diamonds and more pure than solid gold.
The bird song ended with a gentle applause and the active music started up again.
Spike turned to the younger crowd and saw, with amusement, Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, and Scootaloo doing their own little dance.  Scootaloo, of course, was the best dancer of the group.  Sweetie Belle did okay, having taken lessons from Rarity.  Applebloom, however, kept tripping over her two left hooves, but that didn't matter.  If ever one of them fell, they all giggled and got right back into it.  Spike smirked at the adorable bunch.  Being closest to their age, he could tell they were having a great time.
Resting his claws on the railing, Spike took in the whole scene, his attention jumping from one friend to the next.  Nothing had changed for the ponies.  Regardless that Twilight was now a princess, they were still the same group of friends, sharing in each other’s happiness, blissfully eager for the days ahead.  His friends . . . the ponies who had taught him so much, who mean so much to him . . . they were all going to be just fine.
Smiling, Spike closed his eyes, and in that instant, he didn’t care what awaited him.  This moment was perfect: him watching his friends and all the ponies rejoicing, full of hope and delight.  If ever there was a sight to behold, to leave embossed on the mind forever, this was it.
The baby dragon opened his eyes.  The present image was still there, both outward and in.
Breathing in the peaceful, apple-scented air, Spike raised his foot and took his first step down the nearest of the two stairways.
He took another step, and then another. The party’s atmosphere floated on the breeze, whispering, telling him to come celebrate, to join his friends.
He reached the bottom and now stood on the green grass.  Before he could take another step, though, Spike turned and saw what he had been trying to avoid since the moment he walked outside.
They stood not too far away, clearly visible despite the crowding of ponies.
Prince Shining Armor was dressed in the same red and white regal suit he had been married in.  Next to him, his wife, Princess Cadence, wore a sparkling blue dress with her hair set in a gorgeous style.  The two were having a conversation that Spike couldn’t hear from where he stood, though from their pleasant expressions, it looked like a happy one.
To the side, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna stood in their ceremonial attire: elegant woven robes and gold crowns resting atop their flowing ethereal manes.  They greeted ponies as they passed by, either with a bow of their head or a short hello.
All four of the royals were filled with the same rejoice Spike had witnessed an hour ago, when he still felt happy and hadn’t bothered to think ahead. . . .
Then, as his mind grimly reminded him why he was there, Spike’s attention turned to a group of ponies standing in front of the prince and princesses.  They appeared to be talking to somepony, somepony other than the four royals.  Spike stood on tiptoe to try and see who it was, though deep down he already knew.  The ponies cleared away and walked off, leaving the path between Spike and the royals in plain sight.
The whole world seemed to stop, all sound in the courtyard fallen to a whisper.
Standing right next to Celestia was the new princess, adorned in her bright gold and pink dress.  A pair of feathery purple wings rested atop her back, and on her head, just above her horn, was a crown with a hot pink star, symbolizing both her Element of Harmony and her new status.
“Twilight.”
Spike didn't shout it.  He said her name as though she were standing right next to him, a simple greeting.  Regardless, however, the new princess turned her head and looked directly at him, right into his emerald green eyes.
Had Twilight heard him from where she was?  Spike couldn't see how.  The party was noisy with amusement and he and her were a reasonable distance apart.  Did her magic sense his presence, the only missing member from her past life?  Or did she just happen to spot his purple and green scaly form against the stairs?  Now that Spike noticed, he was the only one standing anywhere near the stairs, and he stood out reasonably well.
Spike suddenly felt uncomfortable.  What he was looking at didn't seem real. . . .
Twilight's wings were motionless, unfluttered, yet seemed to scream aloud with attention.  Spike could hardly believe that they had looked cool when he first saw them.  Now he wasn’t sure how he felt. . . .
Twilight’s older brother and sister-in-law, the Princesses of the Sun and Moon stood beside her, looking at her with praise.  She was no longer just a close friend of the royals, she was one of them: a princess, a magnificent gem in a most glorious crown.
But of all this, it wasn’t the crown, the title, or even her wings that struck Spike to silence.  No . . . it was the smile Twilight was giving him.
It was sweet and caring, a smile which had to be seen to be truly felt, which Spike had seen and felt many times before: back when he was a hatchling, when he had first moved to Ponyville, when he and Twilight were together at the Crystal Empire.  From all the way across time to the present, that wonderful smile still remained, as only Twilight could show it.
Spike’s chest began to hurt and his eyes prickled again.
Twilight, still smiling, raised her hoof in his direction and waved it, beckoning him to come and join her, to stand alongside her.
Spike tried to smile in response, but something kept it from forming.  His legs wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t allow him to move farther into the courtyard, away from the stairs.
Anger and sadness, longing and hope swirled inside him like an illness.  Why wasn't he going to her?  He wanted to, he wanted to be beside her: she, his first and best friend, his mentor, the center of his whole life amongst the world of ponies.  But now that Spike thought of it, that was the answer to it all.
Twilight was his whole life.  Was . . . but no more.  She was a princess now, and he was just an old assistant.  Soon, others more worthy, more deserving of Twilight’s service will enter the picture, and Spike couldn’t see any room in it for him to fit.
He swallowed the bitter air his mouth wouldn’t let escape.  Then, still staring into Twilight's violet gaze, his chest rasping with pain, he frowned sadly and shook his head.
Twilight's smile melted and turned to confusion.  Spike's eyes stung terribly, but he shut them before anything else could happen.  He couldn't stand being here anymore.  This was Twilight's party, her celebration, and he didn't belong with her new group or even this group of happy, common ponies.  With his sight to the ground, he turned and sprinted back up the stairs, away from the party . . . away from his friends.
Spike’s eyes burned as he ran, and when he passed back under the building’s triple doorway, the shade of the foyer fell over him like a cold, silent cloud.  He stopped, loosened his bowtie, and breathed heavily, trying to regain himself, but as he did, he heard a faint voice call out.
“Spike?”
He froze and inhaled with a gasp, choking on his emerging tears.  Rushing away from the entrance where the voice sounded, Spike headed towards the nearest wall and stopped at an open door.
Inside was a small, empty, gray space, no larger than Twilight’s bedroom back in Ponyville.  Off to the side was a shaded stone stairwell, leading down into the castle’s lower levels where Spike had never explored.  There was also a bright low-positioned window, straight across from the door.
Spike entered the room and crawled up onto the low stone window ledge where warm sunlight poured in through the clean, transparent glass.  With his back pressed against the window’s corner, Spike curled his knees up to his face and, unable to resist any longer, his tears gave way.
His breathing came in huffs and he had no control as they rushed out of him like somepony suffocating.
It was too much.  He wanted the pain in his chest to stop, the truth to be a lie.  The fact that he was going to lose Twilight filled every nerve with soul-numbing agony.
At the same time, as his sobbing continued, Spike felt angry and ashamed with himself.  Twilight was his best friend and this was her big day; he should be happy for her!  She had found her destiny, was at the top, where he knew she belonged, where she deserved to be.
He, on the other hoof, was stuck right where he had always been: not at the top with Twilight, nor at the bottom wasting away in the dark.  He was trapped in the middle, alone with absolutely nopony to tell him what would happen next.  The uncertainty, the unknown of it all was torture, worse than anything that could be done physically.
Why did it all have to end like this?  How could he have allowed himself to fall into this ploy, thinking he and Twilight would never be separated?
Well . . . Spike thought grimly, he and Twilight had never expected something like this, nothing had ever hinted towards this possibility.  There had never been any clue that Celestia planned more for Twilight than just being a student.  Or . . . maybe Spike had simply been too young to have thought of it, too caught up in helping Twilight to have noticed what was happening. . . .
If only Spike had known . . . if only Princess Celestia had confided to him her great plan — the plan she made, perhaps, the moment she had met Twilight.  Maybe . . . maybe he could’ve done more to prove his worth, could've used his time to become better than he was and show that he deserved to be with Twilight, princess or not.
But it was too late . . . there wasn’t any time left.  The chance to prove his worth was gone . . . and so was Twilight.  The terrible thing Spike saw behind that door back at the Crystal Empire was coming true and closing in on his life.  There was no escape, there was no denying it.  The nightmare was real and so was the awful truth that came with it.
He . . . he wasn’t needed any—
“Spike?”
> PART III
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


~ ~ ~ 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.


* * * * * * *