Spike has the perfect Hearth’s Warming gift idea for Rarity, or so he thinks.
Hearth’s Warming Eve is coming up, and Spike knows just what to give Rarity. The perfect gift, the gift that will impress his lady friend and nourish their budding relationship, is on his mind and within his price range. Nothing can possibly stop him, except for three little words that he’ll quickly come to dread: anonymous gift exchange.
Spike rested his elbows on his bedroom windowsill. Snow-covered Ponyville looked so small from three stories up, especially with the evening’s dim light obscuring so many details. He knew ponies all over town were just now setting up their lanterns and stoking their fireplaces. Soon the little pinpoints of light dotting the scene before him would be the only thing illuminating the night. The dense cloud cover overhead left the days grey and the nights moonless.
Far below the window, he could make out three trails of hoofprints in the snow that converged at the castle’s doorstep. He put a claw to the glass and traced each trail: one to the rolling hills that hid Sweet Apple Acres from sight, one to the unmistakably cake-shaped Sugarcube Corner downtown, and one to Carousel Boutique, where the most beautiful pony in the world lived.
Peaceful moments like this almost made time stand still. Time didn’t actually do that, though. Time moved swiftly, especially around here. Years flew by, adventures were had, and friendships grew ever stronger. Twilight was more than a unicorn now, Spike was more than a baby dragon, and, if the last few months were anything to go by, Rarity was fast becoming more than just his friend.
Twilight called to him from down the hall. “Spike! Everypony’s here, aren’t you coming?”
Spike backed away from the window and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be right there, Twilight.”
He took one last glance in the mirror, ran a hand through the spikes on his head, and patted the large wooden chest next to his closet. Hearth’s Warming Eve was just three weeks away, and a chest jam-packed with gems meant he’d have no trouble affording gifts for all his friends. This year he could get them all something extra-special and still have enough left over to really wow Rarity. They’d been spending more and more time together lately, and whenever they walked down main street he’d notice her glancing at a certain shop window and the shiny new sewing machine on display within.
He polished the edge of the chest with his elbow, and then headed for the door. “Just three weeks, Rarity. Just three more weeks.”
Downstairs in the main hall, his six closest friends were engaged in their usual chatter. Only Starlight Glimmer was missing, thanks to her spending the holidays with Sunburst. He strolled down the staircase, running his hand over the garland-wrapped banister as he did so. From the wreaths hanging on the doors to the candy canes decorating the walls, the castle had never looked more festive.
He paused on the last step and waved hello. “Hey everypony, who’s up for some of Spike’s famous hot chocolate?”
A round of cheers swept the room, along with a unisonous “Thanks, Spike!”
Rarity held up a hoof. “Oh, do remember to add a little extra cinnamon to mine, won’t you, Spikey?”
He winked. “Sure thing, Rarity.”
She matched his smile and, unless he was mistaken, held eye contact for a moment longer than she intended to. “Thank you.”
---
A few hours later, they were all seated around the table with empty mugs and full bellies. Spike reclined in his chair, supremely happy with how the evening had turned out. Tonight was more than just a good time with his friends, tonight was a sign of things to come. After all these years of quietly trying to figure out how to win Rarity’s favor, she seemed to be figuring it out for him. She was seated to his right, talking about her latest trip to Manehattan in that melodious voice of hers. She’d been next to him all night, and didn’t seem capable of going more than ten minutes without giving him a quick glance and a warm smile.
Twilight’s hoof gently kicked his left foot. He glanced over and saw her eyes move from him to Rarity and back again. Her smile said it all: it’s really happening, Spike.
He smiled back. I know! Isn’t it great?
Applejack gave a mighty yawn. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m fixing to call it a night.”
Fluttershy nodded. “I should go, too. Angel’s been very needy ever since his ear-straightening operation. He might need an extra lullaby to fall asleep tonight.”
Spike bit his tongue to keep himself from grinning. Seeing that annoying bunny stuck on bedrest with both ears in casts was still one of the funniest things he’d seen in months.
Fluttershy sighed and stared at the table, her smile gone. “I just wish he wouldn’t fight me about taking his medication. Those pills were so expensive; I can’t afford to buy more if he just keeps spitting out the ones the vet gave me.”
“I feel for you, Sugercube.” Applejack replied. “Winter is a lean enough time down on the farm, and this year the harvest just wasn’t what it should’ve been.”
Twilight tapped a hoof on the table. “Applejack, Fluttershy, if either of you needs a little help from your friends…”
“That’s okay, Twilight. The Apples have been through worse and come out stronger for it.”
Fluttershy nodded. “I’m okay, too. Thanks for offering, though.”
Rarity cleared her throat. “Be that as it may, I’d like to suggest a little something that might… ease the burden that Hearth’s Warming Eve places on each pony’s time and resources. What if we were to do an anonymous gift exchange this year? Each of us puts our name in a hat, everypony draws one name and gets that friend a gift. Nopony knows who’s getting a gift for who, or who gave them their gift after the gift exchange is over.”
Spike gasped. “B-but—”
Applejack chuckled. “Well, I’ll be, it’s a Hearth’s Warming miracle: Rarity said something and I’m agreeing with it.”
“I’m in!” Pinkie shouted. “This makes the gift giving and getting extra-mysteriously fun!”
“Totally! This’ll make my last-minute shopping so much easier!” Rainbow Dash said.
Fluttershy clapped her hooves and smiled. “If it’s only one gift, I could try doing something hoofmade this year. I’ve never had enough time to do that before.”
All of Spike’s objections died in this throat. “If… if it’s easier on my friends then… then how can I say no, right?”
Twilight held a hoof out to Applejack. “Can we use your hat, AJ? Spike, could you get some paper and quills?”
A ream of paper landed on the table, and Pinkie grinned. “I’m way ahead of you!”
Spike chewed on his claws. This was really happening. If he drew Rarity’s name, he was set: he’d buy her the biggest, fanciest sewing machine known to ponykind and have her name engraved on the side.
In under a minute, Applejack’s hat was upended on the center of the table and filled with slips of paper. Rarity retrieved the hat and mixed the papers around with her magic. Finally, she withdrew a slip of paper, glanced at the name written on it, and crumbled it up. “Would you care to go next, Spikey?”
“S-sure!”
If only they all weren’t watching him. If only he could stick his nose in the hat and smell out her perfume-laced writing. Instead he plucked out the first paper his claws touched and passed the hat to Twilight. A quick glance at the paper told him everything he needed to know: he’d drawn Fluttershy, and now his mission was to figure out who drew Rarity and convince them to trade with him through any means necessary.
One look at Twilight was all it took to know who she’d drawn. Between their familial bond and her total lack of a poker face, Spike knew he’d be unwrapping a very nice book on Hearth’s Warming Eve.
Pinkie came next, and honestly Spike had no idea what to make of her reaction. She simply took an emotionless look at the paper, stuffed it in her mouth, and mumbled something about tasty secrecy.
The hat passed from pony to pony, none of whom gave obvious hints as to whom they’d drawn, at least until it was Applejack’s turn. Applejack’s eyebrows shot up and she stifled a gasp.
Rainbow left her chair and hovered over the hat. “Ha! You drew me, didn’t you?”
Applejack covered the paper with a hoof. “I ain’t saying nothing. This whole thing is anonymous, and I aim to keep in that way.”
“Oh yeah? Then you’d better not get me something fruit related.”
“Maybe I’ll give anypony here a whole barrel of cider for free, just in case they’ve got a rainbow-maned pegasus to shop for.”
Spike gnawed on his claws. Applejack had to be the one. Shopping for Rainbow was as easy as grabbing the closest knickknack with the words “Daring Do” or “Wonderbolt” on it. Shopping Rarity, on the other hand, was like trying to get something for Princess Celestia: she already owned just about everything she actually wanted. The only gifts left to get were the ones she didn’t know she wanted yet. Spike knew Rarity, though. He knew without a doubt that she wanted that new sewing machine, but didn’t want to splurge on it for some reason. That’s where he came in.
He tuned out Applejack and Rainbow’s continuing banter and gazed at his beloved. So help him, this would be Rarity’s best Hearth’s Warming ever. All he had to do was coax a little name trade out of a certain Stetson-wearing farm pony.
Spike squinted in the morning sunlight. Only one hill still stood between him and Sweet Apple Acres, a hill that’d been transformed into a mountain of snow that clung to his feet like molasses. A freezing cold wind blew across the hill, instilling in him the exact opposite feelings that’d accompanied last night’s party. Instead of basking in the warmth of home, friends, and future romance, worry chilled him to the core. What if Applejack wouldn’t trade with him, or even admit she’d drawn Rarity’s name? What if she really hadn’t, and he was trekking out here for nothing? Worries aside, he still had to try. He’d been trying for years, in one form or another, and at last Rarity seemed to be taking notice. He couldn’t let some dumb gift exchange ruin the last few months of sharing long glances over tea and longer walks through Ponyville.
“I’m getting you that sewing machine for Hearth’s Warming Eve, Rarity, if it’s the last thing I—”
“Howdy, Spike!”
Spike spotted Applejack on top of the hill just as he lost his footing and fell backward. The snow, for all the trouble it was to walk through, at least made for a soft landing. He stared up at the sky from his new vantage point, the start of an impromptu snow angel, and listened to Applejack’s approaching hoofsteps.
She stared down into the dragon-shaped impression he’d made and grinned. “Still working on your snow legs?”
“Being short doesn’t help… Can’t I just melt myself a path? The grass will grow back… eventually.”
“How about I offer you a lift instead?”
Spike picked himself up, brushed the lingering snow off his scales, and climbed onto her back. The snow mountain he’d been attempting to scale didn’t look so formidable from up here. “Thanks, AJ. I was actually coming to the farm to see you.”
“Good, ’cause that’s where we’re headed.”
A few minutes later, Spike was seated at the Apple family kitchen table with his hands held up to the heat of the stove. “Thanks for the ride, Applejack. It feels so good to get in out of the cold.”
Applejack had her head buried in the pantry. “Nothing to it, Spike. How about a little snack to warm up those scales? You look colder than an apple in an icicle.”
“That sounds great, I…” Without even thinking, he looked over her shoulder at what he assumed would be the current selection of snacks. Instead, he saw a disturbing amount of empty space. The shelves weren’t bare, but compared to the usual almost-overflowing nature of the Apples’ pantry, they might as well have been. “On second thought, I’m good. I… uh… I had a really big breakfast.”
“We ain’t starving, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“S-starving? Why would I think—”
Applejack shut the pantry door. “I know you’re trying to be nice and all, but you’re not leaving this house without some warm food in your belly. We ain’t so hard up that we can’t treat a guest right.”
Spike raised a claw to start an objection, despite having no idea how to voice one. All he could think of was the nearly bare shelves in the pantry.
Applejack smiled. “How about we make something fresh? It’ll heat up the house, and I bet everypony else could use a little something, too. You in the mood for fritters? Brown betties? Pie? I guarantee they’ve all got about the same number of apples in ’em.”
Spike touched his claws together. “That all sounds good… can I at least help you bake?”
“Heh. Last time I let you do that, you just about wrecked the kitchen.”
“I-I was just overenthusiastic! I cook for Twilight all the time. I’ll do exactly what you tell me!”
She nodded. “Fritters it is.”
Hours full of prep work flew by. Spike found himself leaning over a bowl of batter with a whisk in hand and the heat of the oven at his back. Behind him, Applejack was pulling the third tray out of the oven. He should’ve known that Applejack wouldn’t stand for making two fritters, or even a dozen. By his count they’d prepared twenty so far, and there was still plenty of batter left.
Applejack slid a plate across the counter toward him. Spike eyed the fritter’s golden brown crust and breathed in the sugary, mouth-watering scent. “That looks amazing, AJ!”
She passed him a fork next. “Well don’t just stand there staring, let me know how it tastes. I’ll finish up with the batter.”
Spike handed her the bowl, took the fork, and dug in. “Wow, it tastes amazing, too! I’ve never had one fresh out of the oven before.”
“I reckon a bunch of ponies down at the market haven’t either. Soon as we’re done here, I’m gonna run ’em all down there and see if I can sell out before they get cold.”
“I’d buy one. I’d buy three.”
“Not eating all the product yourself is half the battle, sugarcube. So… there’s a reason I was out in the snow looking for you. It’s about the big gift exchange we’re doing and… can I count on you to keep a secret under your hat?”
Spike paused to swallow. “Sure. I was going to ask you if you wanted to tr—”
“Because I drew Twilight’s name. What in tarnation am I supposed to get a Princess for Hearth’s Warming Eve?”
“You… got Twilight?”
“I can’t just make everypony some apple vittles like I normally do. I gotta find something special for just Twilight that I can actually afford.”
Spike just stared at her.
She paused her mixing and waved a hoof in front of his eyes. “That’s where you’re supposed to come in, sugarcube. You got any bright ideas?”
He blinked. “For… For Twilight?”
“You feeling okay?”
He blinked again and thought back to the bare pantry shelves. Securing Rarity’s name would have to wait. “Okay… I can help. Getting Twilight a present is easy.”
“Not when you’re on my budget it isn’t.”
“Trust me, it is.”
“I’m all ears, Spike.”
He clasped his hands together and looked around the room. Everything here, from floor to ceiling, looked homemade or at least home-repaired. “The thing about Twilight is that she really loves gifts that say a lot about the pony they came from. Back when we were living in Canterlot, the only gifts Twilight ever wanted from Princess Celestia were getting to spend extra time talking with her, or for some dusty old book from her study.”
“I hate to break it to you, sugarcube, but I’m fresh out of magic books. I haven’t ruled Equestria for so much as a day, either.”
“That’s not what I mean. Twilight wanted that stuff because it was special to Celestia, and that made it special to Twilight. What Twilight really loves isn’t books, it’s learning and getting closer to ponies while she does it. That used to be just Celestia and the ancient ponies she’d read about, but now it’s all of us. She’d love something related to Ponyville or Earth Pony history. Just find some dusty heirloom and explain why it’s important; she’ll go nuts.”
Applejack pushed the bowl aside. “Wow. That’s… not what I expected at all, Spike. Thanks!”
Spike dragged his fork against his now-empty plate and gave a deep sigh. “You’re welcome.”
“What’s wrong, sugarcube? You just saved me a whole lot of worry, not to mention bits.”
“I didn’t think you had Twilight’s name. I came out here so I could trade you for Rarity.”
Applejack laughed. “I guess I can’t blame you for wanting that. Sorry I don’t have her name, but if I read all our friend’s reactions right, I think I could point you in the right direction.”
Spike jumped up. “Really? You know who has Rarity’s name?”
Applejack cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “I reckon I do.”
Applejack had it all wrong, as did everypony else.
Spike stopped for a moment to pant. His legs had somehow found a way to burn and shiver at the same time. He couldn’t decide what was worse: the fading sunlight, the plummeting temperatures, or the ever-deepening snow. Once the sun set, he would have officially blown the entire day walking around Ponyville. He finally knew who had Rarity’s name, albeit by process of elimination rather than anypony actually giving him a useful clue. By virtue of visiting three ponies instead of just one like he’d planned, he knew it all: Twilight was getting him a book, Applejack was getting Twilight some kind of historical relic, Rainbow Dash was getting Pinkie Pie a new party cannon, Pinkie Pie was getting Applejack a set of pie pans filled with pie-flavored candy, and he was supposed to get Fluttershy something. That just left Fluttershy getting a gift for Rarity, and Rarity getting a gift for Rainbow Dash. Why couldn’t he have just drawn Rarity’s name from the start? Why did he have to go on a grand tour of Ponyville in waist-deep snow?
He paused on Fluttershy’s doorstep to rub his frozen hands together. Once the numbness in his claws turned back into dull pain, he reached up and knocked on the door. He’d never been so cold, but it was absolutely worth it. All he had to do was go inside, ask Fluttershy to do a three-way name trade with him and Twilight, and go home to inform Twilight of her role in his master plan. Tomorrow morning, or possibly afternoon considering how tired he felt, he’d buy Rarity the best Hearth’s Warming present ever. She’d be so surprised; maybe she’d even give him a thank-you kiss.
A quiet but unmistakable sneeze banished all thoughts of romance. He put his ear to the door. “Fluttershy?”
“C-come in,” she replied.
Spike opened the door and stepped inside. The cottage floor was covered in discarded tissues, rendering it just as white as the snow outside. Fluttershy was curled up on her couch, nestled between a mound of tissues and what appeared to be an unfinished blanket knitted out of blue yarn. “Hi, Spike.”
“Are you okay?”
Fluttershy gave a mighty sneeze in response, one of the loudest things he’d ever heard escape her mouth. She reached for a nearby tissue box and shook her head. “I’ve just got a little cold… but if you need something…”
She started to push herself up on her shaking legs. Spike shook his head and ran forward. “That’s okay, you don’t have to get up! Can I make you some tea or…” A shiver traveled up his spine, and for a moment he could’ve sworn that he was still wading through snow. The whole cottage felt just as cold as the wintery evening outside.
Fluttershy sneezed again. “I’m sorry if you’re cold. I really need to conserve my firewood so it lasts all winter.”
“But you’re sick!”
“It’s okay. I’m just going to stay right here and rest until I feel better. It’s a good thing I’m knitting this blanket as a Hearth’s Warming gift.”
Spike looked down at the blanket. The shade of blue was a little off, assuming she was trying to match Rarity’s cutie mark. Still, it did look warm and comfortable. “It looks really nice, Fluttershy. Can I make you some tea?”
Fluttershy’s ears shot up. “Oh, Angel! He said was going to make me something, but that was ages ago! Could you check on him for me?”
He ran to the kitchen. “Angel? Are you okay? Did you need me to—”
Spike tried not to laugh, and only succeeded by clasping both hands over his mouth. Angel was standing at the base of the oven, right in front of the hearth, ineffectually rubbing two sticks together with his soot-covered paws. The death glare he gave Spike looked like more than enough to get a fire going.
“Do you need a little help, Angel?”
Angel balled up a tiny fist and tried to look menacing.
“Hey, I’m just trying to help. I want Fluttershy to get better, too.”
Angel pointed at the tea kettle on the top of the stove, and then to a pack of matches resting on a shelf high above.
“I’ll take care of that. Stand back.” One blast of Spike’s fire breath brought the tea kettle to a whistling boil.
Angel shook his head and pointed again.
“What? The kettle’s hot now. I can carry it and everyth—”
Angel hopped up on a nearby stool and then onto the stovetop. He stared down at Spike and pointed once again, this time clearly at the stove.
Spike touched his hand to the front of it. The only spot that wasn’t stone cold was where his own fire had warmed it. “Of course it’s cold, you didn’t light the firewood in the—”
Angel slapped himself on the forehead and gave the stove a kick. The hollow ringing sound emanating from the hearth finally clued Spike in. He knelt down and looked into the empty spot where the firewood was supposed to go. “So you’ve been trying to light a stove with no firewood in it; is the wood too heavy for you or something?”
Angel nodded. He put his paws together in front of him and pantomimed swinging something around. Then he stood up straight and deliberately fell backward.
Spike sighed. “You want me to go chop down a tree for firewood? That’s a ton of work; that’s why ponies just buy the stuff, Angel. Fluttershy has to have some firewood around here somewhere.”
Angel hopped up and down on the stove and waved his paws, clearly disappointed with Spike’s sudden rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.
Finally Spike threw open a wide, floor-to-ceiling door next to the back window. The ‘Firewood’ label next to the handle should’ve been his first clue. “Aha! I knew she’d have some…”
He didn’t know what to say. Just like Applejack’s pantry, the cabinet was neither bare nor fully stocked. Small bundles of logs, each barely enough to ward off a winter’s afternoon, were tied up with yarn and labeled with little strips of paper. He brushed a claw against the dainty writing on the nearest paper label. Each little paper had a date on it, and he could only assume that today’s firewood ration was now nothing more than soot.
“This… This is all Fluttershy has? She wasn’t kidding about saving it so it lasts all winter.”
Angel jumped in front of the dwindling firewood supply and stared Spike down. He repeated the tree-chopping pantomime with one paw while the other pointed at the door.
Spike winced. He already felt numb just thinking about performing hard labor out in that cold. Still, arguing with a bunny wasn’t making the cottage any warmer. “Fine… I’ll go find some more firewood outside, you get Fluttershy’s tea ready.”
Angel nodded. That was the closest they’d ever come to having a civil conversation.
---
Two hours later, Spike collapsed in Fluttershy’s easy chair and surveyed Angel’s and his work. A fire was crackling merrily in the hearth, thanks in no small part to several blasts of his fire breath to fell a tree, section it into logs, and finally to convince the icicle-laden wood to catch fire. Fluttershy now had two winters’ worth of firewood at least.
Angel hopped into the room with a warm blanket in his forelegs. He shot Spike a look, which could’ve been anything from simple tolerance to genuine approval, and offered the blanket to Fluttershy. The heat alone seemed to have done wonders for her. She was seated upright with a basin of hot water in front of her, a mug of tea in her lap, and a quilt draped over her back. The mountains of used tissues were gone, thanks to Angel. In their place was a small waste basket that Fluttershy hadn’t even filled halfway.
Fluttershy glanced up and saw Angel holding out the blanket. “Oh, that’s all right, Angel. I feel warm and snug already. Maybe Spike would like it?”
Angel gave Spike another look, studied the blanket for a moment, and held it out to him.
Spike’s jaw dropped. This couldn’t be the real Angel; the real one, the bunny that only ever treated Fluttershy nicely, at least on occasion, must have been replaced with some sort of changeling replicant. He took the offered blanket all the same. “Uh… thanks, Angel. We… we made a good team, right?”
Angel crossed his forelegs and gave a small nod.
Fluttershy giggled. “You certainly did. I feel so much better already, all thanks to the two of you.”
Angel’s previously limp ears perked up, and he gave what looked like an actual smile.
At last Spike felt at ease. Everything was getting back to normal. “I’m so glad you’re doing better now, Fluttershy. Why didn’t you come and ask some of your friends for help when you got sick?”
Fluttershy looked down into the water basin. “I really should have. I know you’re all so busy though, and I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin my surprise…”
Her gaze drifted to the unfinished knitting project on a nearby end table. “I guess you know who it’s for… Do you think she’ll like it?”
“Are you kidding? What pony wouldn’t like a hoofmade blanket? I know Rarity’s a seamstress and everything, but she’s going to love—”
Her ears shot up. “Rarity?”
“Well… yeah. You’re trying to match the color of her cutie mark, aren’t you?”
Fluttershy stared at him for a moment, and finally shook her head. “N-no, didn’t you see the pattern?”
Before she could even move an inch, Angel darted forward and retrieved the blanket for her. It started to infold as he carried it, and at last Spike realized what he’d missed. Right in the middle of the solid blue expanse of yarn was the beginning of a rainbow-colored lightning bolt.
Spike’s jaw dropped. “But… Rainbow Dash?”
Fluttershy nodded. “I was so worried when I drew her name. She always acts so tough, but cloud houses get especially cold in the wintertime.”
“I-I get that and everything, but…” He hung his head.
“Spike? What’s wrong? You’re not getting sick too, are you?”
“No, I just don’t understand wh—”
And then he did.
Spike jumped to his feet. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Fluttershy, but I need to go.”
Fluttershy nodded. “Thank you so much for coming to see me, Spike. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“That’s okay… you just rest. Rainbow Dash is going to love that blanket. You’ve got everything here covered, right Angel?”
Angel stood up straight and saluted.
Spike gave him a thumbs up. “Great. I’ve got one more stop to make.”
Spike had it all wrong. Ponyville in winter wasn’t picturesque, at least not late at night while trudging through waist-deep snow. He hurt nearly everywhere, and wherever he didn’t hurt he was numb. A whole day of walking and worse lay behind him, and grasped in his claws was the same slip of paper that he’d started with. Against all reason and logic, he still had Fluttershy’s name. He’d visited every pony who could possibly have Rarity’s name, all except for one.
He made a fist and pounded on the boutique’s door. “Rarity? You’re home, right? We need to talk.”
He stared up at the dark sky. Fresh snow was falling in moonlight. Under better circumstances he would’ve called it beautiful, or even romantic, considering whose doorstep he was on. Not tonight. Tonight he’d gladly roast the snow out of the sky, not to mention any and all Hearth’s Warming decorations in sight.
The door in front of him creaked open, and Rarity peered through. Her sleep mask was perched on her forehead. “Spike? I must say it’s rather late for a lady to accept a gentledragon caller, don’t you thi—”
“I know what you did.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Pardon?”
“Remember the whole ‘gift exchange’ you convinced all our friends to do this year for Hearth’s Warming?”
Rarity held a hoof up to her mouth. “I… I can explain, Spikey.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”
She shut her eyes and sighed. “Come in out of the cold, won’t you?”
Spike followed her across the threshold and shut the door. The shop felt even warmer than Fluttershy’s cottage. The dim candlelight illuminating the dresses on display gave him fleeting romantic thoughts, and once again he pushed them aside. “You drew your own name, Rarity, and you didn’t tell any of us! You rigged the whole thing!”
Rarity bowed her head and gave a deep sigh. “You’re correct… May I ask how you… happened upon this discovery?”
Spike held out the paper he’d been clutching. “Because I’ve been trying to trade for your name all day! I walked all over town for you, but nopony had your name. At first I thought it was some kind of mix-up, but then I remembered whose idea the whole gift exchange was.”
She nodded. “As odd as this may sound, I do in fact have a very good reason for orchestrating all of this.”
“Why? I… I really wanted to get you something great for Hearth’s Warming, Rarity. We’ve been spending so much time together lately and… I just don’t understand. Why do an anonymous gift exchange? Why rig it?”
Rarity walked to the nearest dress on display and slid her foreleg along the neckline. Her hoof caught on a small loop of string, and she plucked it off the dress with her magic. The string, and the price tag attached to it, floated through the air and landed at Spike’s feet. He stared down at the considerable number of zeros on the tag.
“Spike… Most of the dresses I sell are quite extravagant, both in appearance and in price. Such is the nature of the fashion industry, but… what I mean to say is, I’m a pony of considerable means. I could quit making dresses right now and eke out a frugal existence for many years using my savings. Some of our friends, however… Some of them aren’t as fortunate as I am, and yet are unwilling to accept all but the smallest forms of financial assistance that I could offer. I don’t begrudge them for it, but it pains me so when anypony falls on hard times.”
She returned the price tag to its respective dress and took a seat on the floor facing it, her ears limp and her back hunched. “I’ve come to dread this time of year. I simply detest burdening all of our friends with the task of buying me gifts. I work so very hard at being generous, and this end-of-year season makes me feel that I’ve failed, that I’ve somehow amassed more possessions and wealth than I’ve given. I’m sure that isn’t actually true but…”
She sunk to the ground and hid her face. Her whole body quivered as she wept. “Just once, I wanted Hearth’s Warming to pass by, guilt free…”
Spike ran to her side and, after a moment of apprehension equal to her distress, placed a shaking hand on her back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I’m… I’m sorry Rarity. I’m sorry this season is so hard on you. But… but I can’t let you go through with this.”
Rarity looked at him with mascara-stained disbelief. “But—”
“We’re your friends. We like giving you stuff, and you deserve a nice Hearth’s Warming gift just as much as the rest of us. I can’t let you get nothing for Hearth’s Warming Eve, that’s just awful.”
She grasped one of his hands between her hooves. “Please, Spikey-Wikey! Receiving nothing from anypony is what I want more than anything this year. Please just let me give myself a trinket out of my jewelry collection like I’d planned. I can’t bear another winter racked with guilt!”
“But that’s not what the gifts are about! They’re supposed to show how much we all care about each other, that we spent time getting something that’ll make somepony we care about happy. Isn’t that…”
She stared into his eyes. “Spikey?”
“I’ve… I’ve got an idea. If you trade with me your name for Fluttershy’s, I swear I’ll make this the best Hearth’s Warming Eve you’ve ever had.”
Rarity’s sniffling ceased, and she lowered her eyebrows. “I most certainly do not need the sewing machine that you’ve been eyeing.”
Spike shook his head. “It’s not like that, I… How did you know that’s what I was going to get you?”
She managed a coy smile. “I do notice more than the contents of shop windows during our walks through Ponyville, Spikey-Wikey.”
He blushed. “Well… I-I won’t get you that. I swear I won’t spend a single bit on your present. It’ll be what gift-giving is really supposed to be about, and that’s it.”
He held up the slip of paper with Fluttershy’s name on it. “And Fluttershy could really really use some warm winter clothing. Her cottage is like a freezer.”
Rarity sighed. “I certainly can’t let Fluttershy freeze… but you must promise that you won’t go out of your way for me. Nothing fancy, nothing expensive…”
Spike nodded. “I promise I won’t do anything crazy… No more than I already have, anyway.”
Time flew by as it always did, at least until Hearth’s Warming Eve finally rolled around. Once again Spike was seated at the Castle’s table with his six closest friends, and once again Rarity was in the chair next to his. Her smiles and stolen glances were all the more frequent tonight, although he could detect something new in her eyes. All night she’d been asking him a question without uttering a single word: did you keep your promise?
She’d find out soon enough.
The usual gift-opening frenzy had given way to a sort of procession around the table; presents were being opened one at a time, and each pony’s reaction was priceless. Or at least that’s how Spike assumed their reactions were. Knowing all the gifts in advance kind of spoiled the surprise. Still, it was one thing to find out Pinkie was getting a new party cannon, it was quite another to see her swinging from the chandelier above the table with a freshly singed tail.
“Whee, I’m one party cannon closer to a twenty-one gun salute!” she shouted.
Applejack pushed the still-smoking party cannon a few inches further away. “Not sure my ears could take twenty more of those all at once, Pinkie.”
Pinkie reached down and flicked Applejack’s hat. “Just fill your ears up with all that candy, that’s what I do.”
Applejack glanced down at the candy-filled pie pans in front of her, and then to the five empty wrappers she’d piled next to it. “That’s… just hypothetical, right?”
Rainbow set her back hooves on the table. Her new blanket was draped over her high-backed chair, displaying its perfect rendition of her cutie mark like a national flag. She gave a deep, satisfied sigh. “I’ve gotta tell ya, whoever drew my name really knows awesome when they see it. I can’t decide if this thing belongs on my bed or on the wall over it next to my Wonderbolts posters.”
Fluttershy giggled. She’d nearly disappeared in the fuzzy depths of her new winter coat. With the hood pulled up she looked more bunny than pony, complete with decorative paws on the cuffs and rabbit ears on the hood. “Well I’m definitely wearing my new coat to bed. It’s cozier than all of my blankets combined.”
Twilight jolted in her seat and, for a few seconds, looked up from the large picture frame clutched in her hooves. “Bed? B-but it’s not bed time yet, right? I still haven’t figured out where I’m going to hang this.”
Rainbow laughed. “Twi, it’s just a—”
Twilight turned the frame around and held it up for all to see. “It’s not ‘just’ anything! This is a copy of the very first land grant that Princess Celestia issued to the founders of Ponyville. You can even make out Princess Celestia’s signature at the bottom! The old library didn’t even have a copy of this.”
She returned the frame to her loving embrace and brushed a hoof against the glass cover. “I don’t know how you got this, Ap—err, whoever got me this… but thank you! Thank you so much!”
Spike met Applejack’s gaze just in time to catch her approving nod. He could almost hear her saying Thanks a million, sugarcube.
A book-shaped present slid across the table in a blue aura and came to a stop under Spike’s nose.
Rarity smiled at him. “I believe you’re next, Spikey.”
He put on his best smile and tore at the wrapping. No matter what kind of book Twilight gave him, he knew she’d put a lot of thought into it, even if that thought was how much he’d love learning about advanced math, ancient unicorn history, or the origins of saddles. “Gosh, I wonder what this is…”
The wrapping paper peeled off the front cover, and he read the title aloud. “The Life and Times of… Spike the Dragon?”
He flipped the book open and glanced through the surprisingly empty pages. Half of each two-page spread was dedicated to a lined box labeled “What Happened This Week”, and the other half was split into columns labeled with the days of the week and times of day. At the bottom of each day’s column was a series of checkboxes with labels like “Big Project,” “Out of Town,” and, to his great surprise “On Vacation.” He flipped back to the first set of pages, the ones covering today and beyond, and saw that the vacation checkboxes were already checked for the rest of the week. The day columns had been overtaken by the message “Do whatever you want!”
He flipped through the pages, catching more pre-filled vacation days with notes like “Comic Book Convention” and “Sapphire Season.” Twilight had found at least one event per month that he’d typically forget about or not have time for. He’d never had anything like this before, and yet having it made so much sense. Keeping Twilight’s schedule straight was complicated enough; factoring in time for himself, and remembering what he’d actually planned on doing, was next to impossible.
Rainbow Dash flew low enough that Spike could feel her breath on his shoulder. “So… it’s a planner, or a journal, or something?”
It took Spike a moment to nod. “Yeah… and it’s actually pretty cool. Tomorrow I’m… on vacation.”
He looked over at Twilight, who gave him a smile and a wink.
Applejack cleared her throat. “Looks like you’re up, Rarity.”
Fluttershy’s coat rustled as she sat up. “Um, are you okay, Rarity? You’re… not breathing.”
Rarity coughed and gasped. “I’m… perfectly fine, Fluttershy, dear. I-I was simply wondering what could possibly be in a package this… substantial.”
Everypony, Spike included, followed Rarity’s gaze. The last present on the table was indeed large. Two of those top-of-the-line sewing machines would’ve fit inside with room to spare.
Rainbow Dash grasped the box with her hooves and gave it a shake. “It’s heavy, whatever it is. Guess that means it’s not just dresses or something.”
Applejack chuckled. “Unless they’re dipped in gold.”
The box glowed blue and slid to Rarity’s side. She put a protective hoof on it. “Please, Applejack. A dress made of solid gold would be garish, impractical, and—” she fixed an eye on Spike “—completely unacceptable.”
Pinkie fell from the chandelier and landed in her chair. “So open it, already! Let’s see that unacceptable dress!”
Spike watched the wrapping paper slowly come undone. Rarity somehow put more finesse and elegance into unwrapping the present than he’d used to wrap it. Part of him wanted her to just tear the paper off and get the surprise over with. He was so sure he’d done the right thing, at least until all his friends gasped. A sturdy wooden chest stood on the table, as large as it was plain.
Applejack scratched her head. “Huh. That’s an… interesting gift for a fashionista.”
Rainbow folded her hooves. “Yeah. It looks so… simple. Is there something inside?”
Rarity took a quick peek under the lid and shook her head. “No, it’s completely empty.”
“Then why do you look so happy?”
Rarity smiled and ran her hoof along the edge. “To you it might look like a simple chest, Rainbow, but I see a blank slate on which to express my creative vision. With a fresh coat of varnish and few decorative flourishes, I think this would be perfect for holding fabric swatches in my inspiration room.”
“Eh, well as long as you like it…”
Rarity gave Spike another glance and nodded. “I do. Thank you, whoever gifted me with something so practical.”
Another blast from Pinkie’s new party cannon shook the room, and confetti rained down. Pinkie jumped up on the table and donned a party hat. “So who’s up for some Hearth’s Warming Eve party games?”
Spike smiled. At least Rarity was content with the gift. Hopefully, after he’d gotten a chance to explain himself, she’d actually be happy about it.
---
Spike got his chance a few hours later, when yawns began to overtake laughs as the favored break in conversation. Everypony was milling around the room, reassessing their new possessions and offering another round of thank-yous to whoever was nearest.
Rarity was next to her new piece of furniture, probably wondering how she’d get the sizable thing home on a snowy winter’s night; Spike’s many years of hefting twice his weight in books and luggage had barely been enough to get the box down the castle’s stairs. No one else was nearby, affording them a measure of privacy as long as they kept their voices down.
“H-hey, Rarity? Could we talk for a second?”
Rarity turned to him and smiled. “Of course, Spikey. I’m so sorry that I doubted your intentions before. Thank you for getting me something simple, something that’s more of a project for me to sink my hooves into in my spare time.”
“I’m glad you like it and everything, but… well that’s not exactly why I gave it to you.”
“Hmm? Then why?”
Spike took a deep breath, and pointed to the spot on the back corner where the finish was worn away completely. “I had to sand the writing off right there, but you can probably still make it out.”
Rarity leaned down and examined the spot, the spot where a much younger Spike had scratched a message into the wood. “Property of Spike?”
“It’s where I kept my gems. I’ve been saving them up for months so I could get you something really amazing for Hearth’s Warming, but after we talked…”
Rarity’s ears folded back. “Spike, I didn’t mean for you to part with something so important and personal, I—”
“I know I was trying to tell you what’s really important about giving gifts, but I think I’m the one who needed to hear it. So I took all my gems and… got you this.”
He held out a piece of paper, not unlike the one from the gift exchange.
Rarity took it in her magic and looked it over. “What is this?”
“It’s a receipt. My real gift to you is that I made a big donation to charity in your honor.”
Rarity gasped. “Charity? Do you mean to say that you donated all of your gems?”
He leaned in to whisper. “Well, kind of. First I left a big bag of them on Applejack’s doorstep and one at Fluttershy’s, then I donated the rest.”
Rarity turned away and trotted out of the room.
Spike nearly had a heart attack. He ran after her and nearly tripped over his own tail. “R-Rarity, wait! I-I thought this would—”
He found her in the hallway dabbing away tears with a handkerchief. She embraced him as soon as he came near. “Thank you, Spike. I-I apologize for walking away, I just… What you’ve given me is almost too much to bear. Thank you! Thank you for making this the best Hearth’s Warming Eve I’ve ever had.”
Relief flooded Spike’s mind, nearly eclipsing the bliss of her touch. His legs went weak as all his worries fled away. He’d done it. He’d given Rarity the perfect gift. All too quickly she pulled away, leaving him with only her radiant smile for comfort. “That’s what I wanted, Rarity. I don’t need gems, not when I’ve got your smile.”
She blushed. “Spikey, under present circumstances I think I’ll need to break the rules of my own game. I simply must give you something in return.”
He held up his hands. “Whoa, I don’t need anything. I—”
Her horn glowed, and the wreath hanging on over the door lost its centerpiece.
Spike stared at the mistletoe floating over his head, and then at the beautiful mare inching ever closer. His heart stopped, but she didn’t. For some uncountable number of seconds, joy itself flowed through their touching lips.
Time didn’t stop, no matter how much Spike wanted it to. Suddenly he found himself standing on his own again, albeit on wobbly legs. Rarity was still gazing into his eyes, beckoning him to do or say something romantic. Instead he asked a simple question. “Can I get one of those every year?”
Rarity giggled. “That is a distinct possibility, although I don’t see why we should wait until next Hearth’s Warming Eve, do you?”
“I… uh… uh… no. What I mean is… Do you… want to go window shopping again tomorrow and… maybe have lunch? I-I’m kind of broke right now, but—”
She held a hoof up to his lips. “My treat. I insist.”
