Taking to Wing
"Good night, Spike," I yawned, squeezing my eyes shut and covering my mouth with a hoof. My little dragon was nestled in his basket with a flashlight by his side so he could keep reading his comic once I turned out the lights.
"Mmhmm," he mumbled in response, fidgeting with the corner of a page restlessly as he had been doing since I'd come into the room. Peering at the comic I could see that he was still on the same page he'd been on several minutes ago, and though Spike was clearly looking at the page in front of him I got the impression his mind was somewhere else entirely. He kept fiddling with the paper and distractedly chewed his lip.
I watched him for a minute, searching for some clue as to what might be bothering him, but his distant expression offered nothing. Silently wishing him luck with whatever was troubling him, I turned off the light and laid my head down to sleep. He’d talk to me about whatever it was when he was ready. For now it would be best not to press it.
It was a few moments before I heard the click of the flashlight turning on. Fortunately, the light it produced was too faint for me to see with my eyes closed, and Spike was always considerate enough to avoid shining it towards me. He’d always been sweet like that.
Soon the peaceful silence of night fell upon the room like a silky curtain. The familiar call of sleep began echoing at the edges of my consciousness, and I slowly let it take me. But before I could drift off completely, a thin scratching noise forced my ears to twitch. The sound dragged me back to consciousness and I managed to focus enough to identify it.
Spike was fiddling with the corner of a page again.
I kept quiet and waited for him to stop so I could get to sleep, but the noise persisted. He didn't seem interested in quieting down any time soon.
"Spike?" I called softly. The fidgeting ended abruptly.
"Uh, yeah?" The way he spoke reminded me of myself when somepony unexpectedly distracts me from a particularly tricky spell. He was definitely thinking hard about something.
"You were playing with the corner of your comic. It was a little noisy," I explained gently, still mostly hidden underneath my covers.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't notice." His voice trailed off at the end and I imagined him looking down at his claw, surprised to find it gripping the page.
"It's alright."
The noise never started again, and silence reigned once more. But this time the silence wasn't the same. It wasn't the peaceful quiet of a complete day, reminding those in its presence of the infinite possibilities the next day would bring. It was a different kind of silence. The silence of an incomplete thought, of something important left unsaid.
I waited a bit longer, hoping the feeling would pass, but it didn't. I couldn't sleep with this empty atmosphere hovering around me.
"Spike?" I pressed against the silence, sitting up in bed this time. The room was dark save for the small ring of light around my number one assistant. His eyes shot up in my direction, though I doubted he could actually see me, and a look of dismay spread on his face.
"Was I doing it again?" he asked worriedly.
"No, it's not that," I giggled lightly for a second before the concern I felt returned. "It's just... It seems like something's bothering you."
He lowered his gaze to his comic once more, but I got the feeling it was more to avoid eye contact than to read. "Well..." he began timidly. He wrung his claws nervously, turning his head to the side, looking at nothing in particular. "I've been thinking. I do like sharing this room with you; I really do. but," for a brief moment he flicked his eyes towards me before continuing, "I've been wondering when I'm gonna get a room to myself."
"You want your own room?" I blurted out before quickly clamping my jaw shut. Spike winced as if I'd smacked him. His claws came to rest and he laid down in his basket, guilt written plainly across his face.
"I know. It was a dumb idea. We've always shared a room," he sighed. I hadn’t meant to embarrass him. I hadn’t really meant to do anything. I just wasn’t thinking. What was I supposed to say? Finally, he looked up at me, his eyes pleading. "Can… Can you just forget I asked?"
The room seemed to spin around me. A deep pain in my stomach made me start to feel sick. How had I not seen this coming? Had I missed some sign? Some way he’d been trying to tell me that he was ready to move on? He was still so young. Still so sweet and innocent. Why would he even want a room to himself?
Doubts plagued the deepest recesses of my mind, digging around and uncovering fears I’d buried far, far away. Did my little dragon not need me any more?
Didn't he still love me?
He must have sensed something of my indecision through the darkness of the night because his pleading expression grew worried. "Twilight?" he asked hesitantly.
I didn’t even hear him at first. I was too absorbed in looking at him, trying to see what I’d missed. His eyes still shone with the bright innocence of a child. And his little body… he was still so small. So precious.
"Sor--" My voice cracked when I tried to speak, and I could feel water starting to gather on my lower eyelids. Oh Celestia, was I crying? What was wrong with me?
Desperately fighting to get ahold of myself, I cleared my throat and spoke again. "Sorry, Spike. You just surprised me is all," I assured him, voice hardly quavering. My little dragon was growing up, and he needed my help along the way. I had to be strong for him. With my intonation completely under control, I smiled and said, "Of course you can have your own room."
"Wait, really?" he gasped, the very embodiment of childish wonder. "You mean it?"
"Absolutely," I smiled soothingly. The effort of keeping the corners of my mouth up drove daggers into my heart. "We can clear out one of the spare storage rooms first thing in the morning."
"Oh my gosh! Thank you so much!" he cheered, diving under his blanket and switching off the flashlight. "You're the best, Twilight."
My only reply was to lay back down in my bed. It was hard and cold.
I'd made my little dragon so happy. That was all I ever really wanted. So then why did I feel so empty inside?
There was, at least, one small blessing. The room was dark enough that he couldn’t see the tears dripping silently onto my pillow.
* * *
Hours had passed since my little Spike had fallen asleep. With his mind finally at ease he had dropped off in a matter of minutes. I, on the other hoof, found no such tranquility.
Spike and I had been together since the day I hatched him from his egg. I knew I had raised him well, but he still had so much to learn. There was so much more for me to teach. I wasn't ready for him to grow up just yet.
As if to reflect my restless thoughts, I could hear a thunderstorm gathering in the distance. The low, rolling thunder rumbled through the walls of the library, thankfully giving me something other than my inner turmoil to think about. My eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, and the dancing arcs of lightning I could see through the window stabbed at my retinas.
Turning my head away from the light, my eyes fell upon the sleeping form of Spike. He'd never been very good with thunder. He hid it well when he was awake, but I could tell the powerful blasts still scared him despite the magical lightning rod on the library. Now that he was sleeping, though, he seemed even worse off. I could see his entire body shaking and his mouth was firmly set in a worried frown. Luna alone knows what the terrors the distant crashing was bringing to his dreams.
The floor shook and raindrops smashed themselves against the window, each one letting out a short cry of agony. This was the sort of night that would drag on forever.
Soon I could make out small whining noises emanating from Spike’s throat. "N-No! They... they can't come in here!" he begged in his sleep.
"Spike!" I whispered, hoping I could wake him without startling him too badly. He didn't seem to hear me, so I tried again a little louder. "Spike! Wake up!"
This time his face scrunched up with worry and he kicked one of his feet violently. "Nnnnn... They'll hear!"
I couldn't bear to see him like this. I climbed out of bed and softly trotted over to his basket, being careful not to step on the comic book he'd left open on the floor. Another bright flash illuminated the room and Spike cringed.
"Spiiiike," I cooed, trying my best to comfort and soothe him with my voice. "It's just a dream. Wake up and it'll be over." But still he didn't respond. I reached out a hoof and gently nudged him, but instead of waking up he turned around and latched onto my leg like it was the last floating piece of debris from a shipwreck.
It was so familiar I couldn't help but smile, remembering the months after he was born, when he'd stare at me with wide, loving eyes and try to wrap my hoof with one of his claws. We were both so much smaller back then.
He’d been using this very same basket to sleep since the night I first brought him home with me, already curled up in a snoozing ball of scales. I’d hardly gotten any sleep that night. I was too busy just sitting there looking at him, unable to process how any living creature could be so precious.
Without thinking, I gingerly stepped over him and laid down next to him in the basket, wrapping him in a protective embrace. I could feel him shaking and shivering. His tiny heart was racing and he suddenly wriggled himself closer to me, pressing against my chest and burying his face into my fur.
His breaths tickled my belly, and I struggled to stop myself from laughing. As I held him there, the two of us facing the storm together, his tremors gradually died down and his heart rate descended.
He spoke in his sleep one last time, though his voice was muffled by fur and blanket, I could hear him just fine. "You're... best, Twi..."
And then he was silent and still, save for the gentle, rhythmic motion of his breaths.
My gaze lingered on my peaceful companion. He was growing up. Someday he'd move out and start a life of his own and see all the wonders the world held. For now, though, he was still my little dragon. Still my precious little Spike.
And though the storm raged on around outside, it seemed dim and distant. In here, we were together, just like always. Nothing could have ruined this perfect moment. With my mind and body finally at peace, sleep took me.
That night I dreamt of a young bird jumping from its nest and taking to the wide open sky, and I smiled, because I was there too. I was the mommy bird, and when my baby took off, I followed. Then it was just the two of us, soaring together into the blue.
And nothing in the world had ever made me happier.