Are we but pages within the tomes of history? Will our greatest achievements be listed for future generations to aspire to? He simply remained in the shadows; a silent guardian that time forgot with only one goal: to protect those he once loved.
Spike the Dragon had made many mistakes in his long life, mistakes that clouded his memory, haunted his dreams, and filled his waking hours with nothing but heartache. After his beloved friends passed from the world of the living, he was robbed of his chance to show his remorse, but he would make amends with the only gift he was able to give. No gem was big enough, no hoard rich enough, no sonnet contained enough beauty, no poem had enough finesse. There was only one gift that Spike could give to the ponies of Ponyville: his life. Receding from memory, vanishing from history, Spike the Dragon became the guardian that Ponyville required: a piece of Unwritten History.
Keeping a journal was a necessity when living in isolation, as any avid explorer would tell you. It was said that writing in a journal allowed a pony to externally analyse their thoughts, rather than keeping their emotions bottled up until the brim threatened to overflow. When somepony lost control of their emotions, they would act rashly, and rash actions could be the end of any promising endeavour or noble cause. Yes, keeping a journal was truly a necessity, it was a shame that the dragon holding it had nothing to write just yet.
Spike would have been lying if he said that his first day of solitude was uneventful; disappearing from existence was hardly a simple process. The first step involved locating the perfect stage for his final performance in life. Luckily for the drake, there were plenty of caves left vacant outside Ponyville's borders, so he had his pick of the litter. The locale in question wouldn't have been his first choice for comfortable living, but it served its purpose, just as he would. Out of Ponyville's direct sight, but the peak of the mountain in which it was placed provided a perfect vantage point for the dragon's keen sight to gander over at his most precious treasure.
The next step was far more tricky, and painful. Throughout their lives, the Element Bearers had- Oh, that's vital information that has just been tossed in without the slightest bit of thought! A bit of an explanation is surely in order. The memories were fond within the relatively young reptile, but it was a double edged blade. With fondness came familiarity, with familiarity came dependance, and, with time, dependance can cause such heartache. How long had it been since he had lost the last of them? Fifty, no, sixty years? Oh, who was he kidding? It was sixty three years, two months and thirteen days. Pretending to be forgetful didn't make the pain fade away, it only promoted senility.
Fluttershy was the first to pass on. Took most ponies by surprise, really. The picture of health when it all happened. Eighty was the new forty, after all. The Element of Kindness was found in her cottage, her head leaning gently on the window's frame, closed eyes staring out into the forest she cared for so dearly. Anypony, from a distance, would've thought the mare was simply sleeping; dreaming of the next beautiful day she could spend with friends, family, and her dear little animal companions. She left behind three foals, long grown out of such titles, five grandfoals, five weeping mares, and a dragon whose heart was aching. Her husband had departed from life's great journey a mere two years before Fluttershy did, so it was at least a nice thought that she didn't keep him waiting for too long. It was rather surprising that, despite the Apple Family's reputation, Big McIntosh and Fluttershy kept their family fairly small, but surely, with time, their descendants would be covering Equestria. Fluttershy was buried in her family plot, beside her husband, and her tombstone was impossible to read under its blanket of flowers. Supposedly, it read, "Here lies Fluttershy. The Element of Kindness. Wife, Mother, Friend, and Caregiver." Or something to that effect. Spike would have to verify that the next time he visited the- Oh, yes, he couldn't go back. That would take some getting used to.
Rainbow Dash was the next to fall, unfortunately literally. A simple outing with her grandfoals turned bitter as the mare's age took its toll on the Element of Loyalty mid-flight, and her last moments were spent in a hospital bed, surrounded by loved ones. Soarin, of course, took it the hardest of the bunch. Even at the ripe, old age of eighty eight, the stallion was rather passionately in disagreement with every doctor who claimed that there was nothing more they could do, and that she wouldn't wake up. The retired Wonderbolt never left his wife's side, not until the end, at least. Rainbow Dash took that last, long flight into eternity at the age of eighty four, with a mourning husband, one sobbing stallion son, two crushed grandfoals, four weeping mares, and a dragon whose heart was aching left watching the skies. Her funeral featured a respectful flyover by the new Wonderbolts, honouring a true legend of the sport, and the flowers once again covered the inscription. But, it read, "Here lies Rainbow Dash. The Element of Loyalty. Wife, Mother, Friend, and Wonderbolt." Whomever was given the task of designing the inscriptions was clearly working off of a template. There were always more words to accompany the simplistic memorial, but it hurt far too much to recall them.
Pinkie Pie had her final party a year later, spending the majority of that elapsed year bringing joy back into the lives of those who were left behind. A role that could never be filled in her absence. Life, for the Element at Laughter at least, was one great big party, and the pink mare was sure to leave her guests with plenty of party favours upon her departure. The Cakes had left Ponyville decades ago, leaving Sugarcube Corner in Pinkie Pie's very capable hooves, and under her supervision it thrived into a place of joy and sweetness. It was there that she laughed her last laugh, and smiled her last smile. At the age of eighty seven, Pinkamena Diane Pie was found in her bed, in her apartment above the store, smiling at some fanciful dream that she would never have to awaken from. Her husband, Pokey, was the first to say that he wouldn't have had it any other way, and that if she had to go, he was glad she was smiling. The template was brought out of retirement, and her tombstone read, "Here lies Pinkamena "Pinkie" Diane Pie. The Element of Laughter. Wife, Mother, Friend, and Bringer of Joy. Spike could remember the further inscription for Pinkie's tombstone, as it was the only one that didn't drive a stake through his heart. It was as though she had written it herself, "The party may be over, but there's always the after-party!" Left cleaning up the mess in wake of her final party were one melancholy Pokey, five fully grown foals, two mares and three stallions, eight grandfoals, three weeping mares, and a dragon whose heart was aching.
After all of the loss that Spike had experienced in that time, nothing could have ever prepared him for what laid ahead; the moment where the light of his life would disappear in the blink of any eye, and he would be powerless to stop it. The moment that still sent a dagger through his heart, and a shockwave down to his very core. The moment he lost his beautiful jewel. The moment Rarity left him. No, he couldn't relive that one. He couldn't allow that thought to return to his mind. Clutching the fire ruby to his chest, Spike forced his mind to drift passed that time. Away from her, away from her foals, away from her husband's glare, away from his shame and guilt. No; even after decades, the wound was still sparkling with fresh blood, and if time was truly a great healer, he could wait.
Four more years of sorrow went by before Applejack came to rest; her legacy truly cemented into the history of Ponyville. Celestia knew how many Apple Family Reunions she had seen in her years, or how many new members of the Apple Family she taught the ways of Sweet Apple Acres. Unlike her dearly departed grandmother, age never hindered the Element of Honesty, and the stories have it that she was up bucking apples up until the day she died, at the age of ninety three. Caramel had taken the earlier stagecoach into the afterlife, but after nearly a decade apart, Applejack was most certainly ready to be reunited with her partner in crime. Ownership of the farm was passed on to her eldest daughter, a mare by the name of Ginger Gold, and she treated it like the honour it truly was. By far the largest funeral, Applejack's grave was crowded by every single member of the Apple Family. Stallions, mares, fillies, and colts from all around Equestria had come together to mark the passing of perhaps the most inspiring relative they could've ever hoped for. After the crowd had retired to the farm, Spike had finally gotten the chance to read the tombstone. The template never disappointed. It read, "Here lies Applejack. The Element of Honesty. Wife, Mother, Friend, and True Paragon." Once the dust had settled, all that remained was a single weeping mare, and a dragon, clutching a fire ruby, whose heart, that was in shards, was aching.
Spike had almost escaped the final heartbreak. There was almost a chance that he would never have to say goodbye to her. But, as had been proven time and time again, time took its toll on every last pony, and the Reaper wasn't prone to forgetting. Not long after meeting the stallion that would become her husband, Twilight made the decision that she wished to live her life, which included having it eventually end. There was a chance she was given this idea by Princess Cadence's similar actions, but that was neither here nor there. The bottom line of the matter was that she loved Comet Tail, and she would die with him. Throughout every death, she had always been there, just as she had always been, but, three years later, on the eve of her ninety fifth birthday, Twilight Sparkle passed away; joining her husband, and her friends, in a better place. There was a national memorial held in Canterlot, buildings were named in her honour, there was a statue or two arranged to be built; she would've been terribly embarrassed about the whole thing. Yet, when it all ended, and her foals had said their goodbyes, her grandfoals had sent their final farewells, the Princess had given her speech, and all of the public had shown their appreciation, there was only one figure standing by the Element of Magic's grave. One figure, clutching a fire ruby, clinging to a memory, and weeping into his claws. They were all at peace, every last one of them, but his heart was still aching; and not just for Twilight, but for Fluttershy, for Rainbow Dash, for Pinkie Pie, for Rarity, and for Applejack. They had left him behind, and he hadn't even entered his adult stage. Damning the template to the deepest pit he could find, Spike himself donated his writing talents to Twilight's inscription. "Here lies Twilight Sparkle. The Element of Magic. To her husband, she was faithful and loving. To her foals, she was caring and nurturing. To her friends, she was loyal, kind, generous, honest, and filled with joy. To Equestria, she was truly magical." At the age of eighty eight, Spike was left alone, and that was how he was to remain.
Sixty three years, two months, and thirteen days later, and Spike erased himself from Ponyville. Any picture that contained him was destroyed, or stolen, and all of his belongings were relocated to his new cave. These belongings included: his personal photo albums, containing every photograph that he was involved in that hadn't been destroyed, a moderate amount of gems to provide sustenance, a few miscellaneous momentos from his life, his journal, and a fire ruby pendant, which the drake tended to use as a bracelet.
As he was more than ten times the age he was upon arriving in Ponyville, Spike had grown quite a bit. He was far taller than the average pony, even when he wasn't standing on two feet, the spines on his back had grown curved and sharp, rather intimidating, his snout had grown into fearsome jaws, with razor sharp teeth to boot, and he had lost his previously pudgy physique in favour of a far more fit and strong build. Oh, and a minor detail, but he also had wings. Yes, it had taken a century, but Spike the dragon could take to the air, and he was becoming quite skilled in aerial movement. But he wasn't trying to toot his own horn.
The last step of Spike's plan to vanish from the world was the hardest of them all. One by one, the dragon had to speak to every single pony who knew him, knew of him, or had even seen him, and ensure that nopony would ever speak of him again. It may seem harsh, but for the entire operation to be successful, Spike's memory had to die with the current generation of ponies. It was the only way to truly know that he was forgotten, and the only way for his duty to be fulfilled.
After decades of aimless wandering, dwelling on his past mistakes and regrets, Spike was given the chance to repent for all of his sins, and make amends to the memories of the ponies he loved so dearly. Celestia herself had entrusted him with it, and he would never let her down. Ponyville was in grave danger. A dragon roost had formed a few mountains over, and not the nice kind. It had been witnessed that these particular dragons were ruthless, carnivorous, and especially hungry. Diplomacy had failed on a wide scale, and the dragons proved to be hostile. With no options left, the sun goddess approached Spike, requesting his aid in the matter, and there was nothing in Equestria or tartarus that would prevent him from protecting his town, even if that meant he would never be able to return. So, there he was, strategically placed between the town and the roost. When the dragons came, he would turn them away, and Ponyville would never even know of their existence. Ponyville would exist in harmony, as it always had. Ponies would live lives filled with simple joys and pleasures, as they had the right to.
Spike had a duty to fulfil, and with the beginning of his first day, he felt a satisfaction that only purpose could truly provide. The drake stepped towards the mouth of his new home, spread his wings and claimed the skies. Climbing higher and higher, Spike perched himself on the peak of his mountain, and just barely managed to catch a glimpse of Ponyville in the distance. The sun was slowly making its descent on the other side of the mountain range, and in a few hours, the town would be dotted with lights as ponies went about their nightlifes, and they were welcomed to them. Earlier that day, Spike had said goodbye to every grandfoal that his friends had left behind, and in their eyes he could see his beloved companions all staring back at him. He was doing it for them. No dragon would set foot in Ponyville; not while he drew breath.
The first day of Spike's watch ended peacefully, with a single figure flipping through photo albums by candlelight until finally curling up on the cave floor, holding his pendant close. He was their guardian, and they were his treasure.
Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Nine Thousand, and Eighty.
Happy seven hundred and ninety-second anniversary to him. Now standing at the ripe old age of nine hundred and fourty-three, Spike was no stranger to celebrating said occasion alone. Dipping the tip of his quill into the ink pot, the colossal dragon wrote the next line of his journal.
Seventy nine days since the last dragon encounter. Two hundred and five thousand, eight hundred and sixty days since the last visit by Princess Celestia. Fifty-one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-six days since the last pony sighting.
Though keeping a journal was considered to be a necessity, Spike had settled largely for simply keeping records of any significant findings. His previous attempts at unpacking any sort of emotion onto the pages usually resulted in the loss of said pages, and there was only so much paper he could afford to waste. Placing the ragged tome back onto his mountainous hoard of gems, bits, knick-knacks, and other semi-valuable objects, the aged guardian stretched out, easing some of the stress out of his aching joints. There wasn't as much space in his cave as he had initially thought all of those years ago, but that was most likely due to his own growth. Yes, the years had changed Spike once again; this time much more drastically.
Though he was still able to maintain balance on two feet, the dragon favoured the use of all four. It saved him from bumping his head on the ceiling of his cave, and there usually wasn't a great deal of motivation to leave the cave unless a dragon was approaching. His size was greatly different, as was implied. To give a clear point of reference, the fire ruby that he once wore as a bracelet now rested around the claw of his smallest finger on his right hand, and he had to be very observant of it if he didn't want it falling off. Gazing at Ponyville from the top of the mountain was forbidden as he was now large enough to be seen by any pony who just so happened to look towards the peak, and that was another reason that he could simply stay in his cave for another few weeks or so.
Yes, the years had worn down Spike's initial enthusiasm for defending Ponyville, but he was as dutiful as ever before, and nothing would prevent him from protecting the ponies that still resided in that quiet little town. Of course, at the current stage, he had no real idea of who was inhabiting Ponyville, but he could picture them. Descendants of his beloved companions; spread out as far as the eye could see. Mares, stallions, fillies, and colts, all with the tiniest, but most significant of features that just called to a memory of simpler times. Even the thought brought a small smile to the reptile's face, before the inevitable realisation hit him: he would never see any of them. Every fifty years or so, he'd get that same feeling; like somepony he could've known had just passed from the world, while he rotted within his own personal hell.
Reaching into his hoard, Spike retrieved a handful of gems, notably sapphires and emeralds, and shovelled them into his titanic jaws; the loud crunches echoing through the cave, serving to remind its occupant just how alone he really was. If he had been asked when he began his duty whether or not he would have a hoard, he would've simply laughed it off. No, Spike wasn't that type of dragon. "I'll scavenge for gems when I need them," he would have said, smiling like the youth he was, "it'll give me something to do." Yet, here he was, a very large dragon with a very large hoard. There wasn't any reason he needed to have such wealth; when he ate, he ate sparingly, and bits were of no use to him, but each piece of his pile had a significance to him, and every treasure he kept, a memory remained. Many ponies had theorised about a dragon's greed, but Spike was starting to think that it was sentimentality, not greed, that caused dragons to hoard. It wasn't so much that they wanted to keep everything for themselves, they just didn't want to be without something that could be of importance in the future. Did he always ramble so, or was it a symptom of his ever apparent old age?
Spike's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of leathery wings, clawing at the sky. Lacking the finesse of a pegasus' feathers, or the buzzing repetition of a changeling, a dragon was soaring from over the mountain. Peering out from his cave, Spike caught a glimpse of the offending creature. It was pale orange, not an uncommon colouration, with thick, strong wings attached to its back. Judging by its wingspan, it was passed the adolescent stage, but it couldn't have been more than Spike himself had been on that first lonely night. Taking a deep breath, the guardian of Ponyville called out to the dragon. "Turn back and go home, young one; there is nothing for you here!" His voice was deep and booming, and he had hoped it would command some sort of authority. But, alas, the dragon seemed less than impressed. "Who's there?" The dragon replied; his voice fairly reminiscent of a few other dragons Spike had met over the centuries. Maybe all dragons just sounded alike. "I am the guardian of that town, and I assure you, if you get any closer, you will regret it." The other dragon hadn't gone any closer to Ponyville; his course had instead changed to that of Spike's cave. "This is your last chance, young one. Turn back, return to your roost, and never return." The trespasser stopped to hover just outside the entrance of Spike's cave, the larger dragon concealed completely by darkness. He clenched his fists and yelled into the cave, "Make me!"
Though not as agile as he once was, Spike was faster than a dragon of his size had any right to be. The orange dragon only saw the glint of his killer's green eyes before a massive claw lunged out towards him. Being not too slow himself, the orange dragon managed to narrowly avoid decapitation, but he did not escape injury. The tip of one of Spike's razor sharp talons had clipped his side, and blood oozed out of the fresh wound, glistening in the sunlight like a freshly polished ruby. Unlike the ruby, however, neither dragon found this to be appetising.
Catching a glimpse of his opponent, the challenger made an attempt to escape, soaring into the open air. Unfortunately, he had missed his opportunity to leave; he had seen Spike, and he couldn't risk the chance of being swarmed by enraged dragons. Spike darted after the fleeing drake, making good use of his superior wing power, and the other dragon's injury, to close the distance between them in a matter of seconds. As his claw approached his prey, Spike could've sworn he heard weeping. It didn't matter, though. It would have been over in a single swipe, but the younger dragon made one last attempt to dodge, dropping down to avoid a fatal blow. This drop, however, only led to Spike's claw tearing through one of his wings, shredding both cartilage and bone alike.
He plummeted towards the ground, screaming all the while, and Spike sincerely hoped he would die on impact. Unfortunately, he didn't. When the ancient dragon reached the injured drake, he was desperately trying to crawl away; leaving a trail of blood behind him. Without much exertion, Spike flipped the drake onto his back and prepared to deliver the final blow. "P-Please," the dragon pleaded, "I'll go! I give up!" Spike simply shook his head, considering his options for the fastest and cleanest kill. "I gave you the chance to surrender, youngling, and you ignored it. I'm sorry." "Wait, n-" The blow was quick; the tip of his claw piercing straight through the dragon's skull and ending his life instantly. Upon withdrawing his claw, Spike was greeted with blood gushing from the corpse's cranium, and dyeing the grass an unpleasant shade of red to match the aforementioned trail. "I warned you." Spike muttered bitterly to the quickly forming pool of blood before picking the body up and flying towards a clearing between the mountains. As he flew, Spike could feel the warm liquid dripping through his claws, dyeing his purple scales crimson; a reminder of his actions. The dragon in his claws had once been an egg, just like him, and his death brought no joy to him. It was the nature of his duty, and he had sworn long ago to uphold it.
Day Eighteen
Spike awoke to the sound of birds singing, and the sight of the freshly risen sun reflecting off of the fire ruby that was resting atop his journal. Everything in Equestria seemed to be saying that it was all going to work out for the lone guardian of Ponyville. Spike stretched out his arms, retrieving the fire ruby while he was at it. He slipped the pendant onto his wrist, as always, and ate a few of the gems he had found the previous night. The drake had restricted himself to only scavenging at night, as he had seen several ponies near his usual stomping ground on his first scavenging run, and the entire point of his position was to remain unseen.
The 'guardian of Ponyville', he loved that title, opened his journal and wrote the day down. He was getting into the habit of writing the day at the beginning of the day, and then writing the events of the day as they went along. One of the things he had first discovered about living in isolation was that boredom occurred quite frequently, so having something to do throughout the day was certainly one way of keeping himself occupied. When he wasn't writing in his journal, he was usually looking through his photo albums, or climbing to the peak of the mountain to watch the world around him. He didn't know why, but there was something magical about that place, and it was quickly becoming the highlight of his day.
Just as the dragon was considering flipping through his photo album for the umpteenth time, a sound caught his attention. It wasn't a bird singing, or a pony wandering too far away from home; it was different. Slowly, Spike crept out of his cave, and flew towards the source of the commotion. What he saw took him far more by surprise than it should have. There was a dragon headed towards Ponyville. The dragon was a deep blue colour, and from the looks of things, he was slightly bigger than Spike was. But, Spike's jaws were slightly longer, and rather than having curved spines, the other dragon's looked like somepony had impaled him with a picket fence. The thought of confronting another dragon was a detail that Spike had neglected to think about when he was planning his transition into the guardian of Ponyville, but it was what he had to do. After all, no dragon would set foot in Ponyville, he had sworn it.
Steeling his nerves, Spike took off after the dragon, using his well practiced aerial skills to intercept the misplaced flier above a clearing between the mountains. The dragon looked at Spike curiously for a moment before speaking. "Who are you?" he asked. From the sound of his voice, he couldn't have been much older than Spike, perhaps he was in his late hundreds? "I'm the guardian of this town, and I'll have to ask that you leave it alone," Spike replied, giving his best intimidating glare. The other dragon just looked confused. "You... You're the- Wait, what?" the dragon babbled, immune to Spike's obviously threatening gaze. A few moments passed before a smile finally grew across the dragon's snout, and he burst into laughter. "Oh! I get it now! Oh, wow, you had me goin' there for a second, buddy. Yeah, good one. Did Vizk put you up to this?" Spike was less than amused, because the dragon was now trying to move passed him. "What are you doing, friend?" "I'm not your friend, I'm the guardian of this town. Now turn around, go back to 'Vizk', and keep away from Ponyville." Spike's tone was far more dark than he had expected it to be, and the dragon seemed to notice. His smile vanished, and was replaced by a scowl. "Oh, well then, 'Guardian of Ponyville', what are you going to do if I say no?" The dragon inquired, prodding a claw at Spike's chest. Once again, Spike fought against his nerves and conjured a reply. "I'll stop you." "How do you intend to- Oh, hello... What's this?" The dragon's gaze had moved from Spike to the pendant wrapped around his wrist. "Now where did a pony-sympathising slug like you get this pretty little thing?... And how is the 'Guardian' going to stop me from taking it?"
As the blue claw reached for Spike's most precious jewel, something clicked within the dragon, and he swiped his own claw out to stop the slightly larger dragon. The blue drake pulled his claw back and hissed, blood dripping from his now injured hand. "Leave this place, now!" Spike commanded, hoping that the scratch would at least prove that he wasn't without bite. The other dragon just growled, and the next thing Spike knew, he was being pushed towards the ground with extreme force; a pair of claws holding him by the shoulders. They weren't too high in the air, but the impact still hurt like nothing Spike had ever felt before. If it weren't for the toughness of his scales, he knew he wouldn't have survived it. The blue dragon raised his claw and brought it down with ferocity, but Spike managed to catch it with his own, and he quickly brought the arm down to his jaw and bit down. Bone broke under his jewel-crushing fangs, and the warm taste of blood filled Spike's mouth; he had never felt more sick in his life. To make matter's worse, he heard the dragon scream, but not from on top of him; the dragon had staggered away, and Spike had separated the claw from his arm with a single bite.
Not wasting any time, Spike spat out the severed limb, and jumped to his feet, ready for the next bout; but the dragon wasn't there. A drop of blood landed on Spike's nose, and he knew that his opponent was flying away. Spike couldn't help but grin, his bloodstained teeth gleaming in the sunlight. He had defended Ponyville from a dragon! But there was something else that came to his attention. It was a single, simple four letter word: Vizk. The dragon had mentioned his friend, and there were probably more where they came from. If he returned to the roost, and he told them about Spike, they would come in a group, and he would- No; that couldn't happen. If Spike were to die, the dragons could take Ponyville, and Spike would have failed every last pony in the town, Celestia, and even the loved ones he had lost. Twilight hadn't raised him so he could allow innocent ponies to die. Spreading his wings, Spike once again claimed the skies, and sped towards the fleeing drake.
Within a few moments, Spike was upon the one-handed dragon, and the moment they locked eyes, both knew the outcome. He tried to swing his remaining claw at Spike, but he had lost a lot of blood, and his precision was sloppy at best. The battling drakes were so caught up in their conflict, that they neglected to watch their path, and they soon found themselves impacting with, then tumbling down, the face of a mountain. Spike curled up into a ball, tucking his wings in to avoid any severe damage; but, from the sounds of things, the other dragon hadn't been so fast on his feet. When they finally stopped rolling, Spike had only a few bruises and scrapes to show for his journey.
Slowly, but surely, the predator approached his quivering prey. Upon closer inspection, the blue drake hadn't fallen too badly, but he was certainly in worse shape than Spike was. When he saw the other dragon approaching, he sputtered out a few words. "Y-You don't have to d-do this..." he said, barely able to talk over his pain; blood still oozing out of his stump. "I'll g-go- A-Ah.. A-away..." Spike didn't slow his advance, soon standing over the doomed dragon. "P-Pu-Ple... P-Plea... Pleas-se..." "I warned you..." Spike replied, a devastating dread growing in the pit of his stomach. "I warned you!" He raised his claw up; it was shaking so much he feared he couldn't hold it there for long. "N-No, please!" The dragon cried, but his pleas fell upon deaf ears; Spike had no choice. He brought his claw down, intending to go straight for the heart, but he was shaking so much that he missed, instead slicing a gash into the other dragon's gut. The smell was foul, the feeling was even fouler, but the dragon's screams were the foulest of all. The second attempt once again failed, leaving the dragon screaming even louder as his innards were exposed to the air. "Please! K-Kill me!" Spike was panicking; he didn't know what to do. So, in a quick decision, he dragged his claws across the screaming dragon's throat. Blood poured out of him, leaving the blue drake gargling for air. He finally stopped twitching after a minute or so.
Spike was left there, alone, staring at the body of a dragon he had been talking to not half an hour before, and now he was dead; brutally murdered at the claws of one of his own kind. Spike looked down at his claws; they were coated with blood. The fire ruby, which had been a symbol of love, generosity, and joy, was no dripping with the crimson residue that pumped through his very own veins. It was then that Spike realised the worst part of it all; he couldn't leave the body. No, ponies could never know of the dragon's existence, so he had to get rid of it. Thinking quickly, Spike found a soft patch of dirt and began clawing his way through the ground. Luckily, he had spent a long time digging up gems, so tunnelling through dirt was almost second nature to the drake. Within ten minutes, he had a hole large enough to contain the body, and he set to the task of dropping the still dripping corpse into its resting place. He was just about to fill the hole when another realisation hit him; the dragon was missing a claw. Spike quickly ran to retrieve the severed limb, and tossed it in to join the rest of its kin. Finally, the hole was covered over, and all that remained of the blue dragon was his blood stain on the clearing grass.
No matter how hard Spike scrubbed himself with the cool water from the stream, he couldn't feel clean, and he couldn't even stand to see his own reflection. He was a murderer, a killer, and nothing could change that. I had to do it, he thought to himself, desperately attempting to find solace in mental justification. Who knows what he could've done to Ponyville? It was true; the dragon was going to Ponyville, and stopping him was the entire purpose of Spike's being there. He performed his duty, nothing more. More would come, and when they did, he would have to- No! He couldn't! Every life was precious, the taking of life was never justified. He could've solved it another way, and he would have to solve it another way the next time. Spike the Dragon would never take another life again. It was then that a glisten caught his eye; a sparkle in the sun. A beautiful pendant, laid out to dry. Though Spike could never make himself clean, a simple scrub had polished the fire ruby to a sheen. It was then that Spike saw her; a gorgeous mare with a flowing purple mane, laughing and dancing in the sunshine. Then came the dragon. A great, towering beast, with razor sharp fangs, a jaw larger than Spike's entire body, and eyes as red as blood. The dragon took the gorgeous mare with a flowing purple mane, and vanished into the night. The sun had gone down at that stage. Spike had been in the stream for hours.
As Spike dried off by the fire he made, green flames crackling in his dreary cave, he retrieved his journal and filled in the 'Day Eighteen' entry with a single sentence.
I will protect Ponyville, no matter the cost, even if it means I have to become something I hate.
It was after reading this sentence that he concluded he needed another sentence to clarify it.
It's for them, and I will not let them down.
Spike didn't sleep that night. Between sudden vomiting from the shock his body was in, and the weeping from the shards of his conscience that remained, he couldn't find the will. Day Eighteen bled into Day Nineteen seamlessly, and his watch resumed.
Shaking away the memories of days long passed, Spike landed in the clearing. With one hand holding the dripping corpse of the orange drake, the colossal reptile set to digging a grave with one hand. Seeing as his claw was rather large, it didn't take him long. The body was disposed of and covered up in a minute or so. With nothing more to say or do, Spike took to the sky once more, the sun still hanging high in the sky. There was still a day of watching to be done, and he couldn't afford to be distracted by the foolishness of a stubborn creature. So, he paid no mind to the dragon he just killed, and he paid no mind to the countless graves that surrounded him. Spike was going to protect Ponyville; he had sworn it.
His claws were never clean, and his conscience was always heavy with his deeds, but the ponies of Ponyville could rest peacefully in their beds, blissfully unaware of the foul acts that had just been committed for their sakes. No mare, stallion, filly, or colt, would ever have to lie awake in fear, hoping that they'd have a chance to live another day. It was thoughts like these that allowed Spike to sleep at night, despite his inner conflict. Spike was a killer, Spike was a monster, and Spike was the Guardian of Ponyville. That night, the massive dragon slept just fine; with thoughts of Ponyville in his head, and a fire ruby held in his claw.
Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Nine Thousand, and Ninety-Four
Another successful stroke of his quill, and the sentence was completed; the next one was already fresh in the dragon's mind as he pressed the edge to the pages once more.
Fourteen days since the last dragon encounter. Two hundred and five thousand, eight hundred and seventy-four days since the last visit by Princess Celestia. Fifty-two thousand days since the last pony sighting.
Had it really been over half a millennia since he had spoken to his confidant? Five hundred years, and not a single word to the one pony who understood how he felt? Well, technically speaking, she didn't know how he felt. In her thousands of years of life, never once had she been isolated, never once had she been forced to fight and kill her own kind. A familiar fire was ignited within Spike's belly, and he remembered exactly why he hadn't spoken or written to Celestia; she didn't understand, and she never would.
Day Eighty-Three thousand, Two Hundred and Twenty
Spike awoke with a smile on his face; not because it was his two hundred and twenty-eighth anniversary of his duty, no, that was the opposite of joyful. Spike was instead happy because it was the best day of every year: the day that Princess Celestia came to visit him. The Princess had made the drake a promise all those years ago, when he first became the guardian of Ponyville, that she would visit him every year, and not once had Celestia broken her word. Usually, their conversations would consist solely of the recent happenings of Ponyville and the rest of Equestria; Spike would ask countless questions of the alicorn, inquiring about every detail. This was mainly due to the nature of the dragon's isolation, and his thirst for any sort of assurance that it was all worth it if the ponies of Ponyville were thriving under his protective eye, but there was also a much more ulterior motive behind Spike's domination of the conversation. Spike didn't want to tell Celestia about what he had done for all these years, he didn't want to tell her that the young, gentle drake she had sent into the mountains had become a vile, violent killer. No, Spike wanted to pretend that everything was normal, that he was normal, for just one day. That was why it was the best day of the year.
The first year, it had taken all of the dragon's quickly decaying strength not to break down at the Princess' hooves; he wanted, desperately, to let her know the pain he was going through. The uncountable nights he had awoken in tears to a dark, dank cave; the constant nightmares where he watched from the outside as a purple beast tore through waves upon waves of innocents, bathing the world in blood; the days that he couldn't bear to do anything, where food had no appeal, and his shaking claws made writing impossible. The first year, the choice was clear that Spike would never tell Celestia about what he had done; the anniversary of his duty had been set aside permanently for the reassurance that what he was doing was right, and nothing did that better than hearing about the ponies he was protecting.
Oh, there he was again, looking back upon darker times on the brightest day of the year. Sometimes he swore he wanted to make himself upset. That was over two centuries ago, and he couldn't afford to waste any of this precious day sulking about over past incidences.
The daily routine began its slow monotony as it always did. Firstly, Spike made a quick breakfast of a clawful of gems, crunching them down in a matter of seconds. Secondly, the dragon wrote the date into a fresh page of his journal. Funnily enough, his journals had quite a connection to this momentous occasion. After the first year, Spike had discovered that it was rather naïve of him to only bring a single book to use as a journal, and he had to request that Celestia provide him with more; a request that she was more than happy to fulfil. So, rather than having a single, dusty, old, decrepit book that contained all of his thoughts, Spike had a library of dusty, old, decrepit books that contained all of his thoughts. This particular dusty, old, decrepit book was the one hundred and ninety-eighth of its kind; the brown leather cover had the number carved into it for filing reasons. When he had first began to record his feelings, he would go through a book every year. But, over the decades, Spike had learned to keep his entries shorter. The last thing he wanted was to be in a cave that was stacked to the ceiling with different books that basically said the same thing over and over again.
After recording the date, there was still work to be done; the cave was a dreadful sight to behold, and there was no way in tartarus that Spike could invite the ruler of the entire land in without her catching some sort of horrible disease. Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating, but it was still pretty atrocious. Luckily, he had been doing this sort of thing for two hundred and twenty-eight years, so pushing his gems to one side of the cave and adding a few torches to light up the place wasn't exactly unheard of. Finally, with the placement of an ornate rug that the dragon had kept particularly dust free for this occasion alone, Spike's cave was prepared for the arrival of the alicorn of the hour. The only problem with that being that Celestia usually didn't arrive for another few hours.
Perhaps the cold-blooded interior decorator had gotten a bit ahead of himself, but that was to be expected of the greatest day of the year. If he couldn't put his heart and soul into this then he couldn't put it into anything. After inspecting the rug for the umpteenth time, if he wasn't certain that it was maroon before, he certainly knew now, Spike just sat and waited.
The first hour went by uneventfully. He could've eaten a few gems, but the butterflies in his stomach just wouldn't allow such an insult to rain down upon their heads. No, it was only polite to refrain until his guest arrived, and that was exactly what he was going to do. The second hour was fairly similar, if he was being honest, the only difference was that now the sparkling buffet of gemstones behind the dragon was starting to whisper sweet nothings into his ear. But, as he was the honourable sort, he once again resisted this temptation. He wasn't going to ruin the best day of the year simply because his stomach was growling at him. The third hour brought the end of the best day of the year, and began a chain of events that would change Spike the dragon forever.
Leathery wings clawing at the sky, tearing through the air of peace that Spike had so painstakingly constructed around the date. What could he do? A dragon had never attack on the best day ever before. All he had to do was dispose of it before the Princess arrived, it was that simple; but why did it feel so difficult? Peering out from his cave, the reluctant guardian noted that the offending creature was of rather small proportions, smaller than he himself had been that first day two centuries ago. He could do it; it would be fast, clean, and quick.
Spike was a blur, a determined blur. The dragon didn't catch a glimpse of the much larger foe until the sheer force of impact sent him spiralling towards the ground. Unfortunately, as with most dragon encounters, dying on impact wasn't part of the invader's agenda, and the teal reptile spread its wings at the last moment, pulling up and soaring back into the air. There was no time for verbal warnings, and there was no time for diplomacy, Spike was upon the other dragon in a matter of moments. In an eerily similar fashion to his first fight, the guardian had his opponent by the shoulders, and drove him into the ground. There was no time to accept this irony, however, and he went in for the kill. "Please, don't do this," the dragon began. They always begged for their lives, and part of Spike always cried out to him, telling him to accept their pleas for mercy. Yet, the other part of him, the guardian of Ponyville, told him to continue on, to do his duty.
Spike brought his claw down across the other dragon's throat, blood pouring out like water from a burst dam. At first, the dragon kicked and struggled, trying desperately to get air into his lungs; but only blood came, and the liquid that had once given his body life was slowly choking it away from him. In a minute or so, there was no more movement. Without hesitation, Spike grasped the dripping corpse and took to the sky, heading towards the clearing. He still had time, Celestia wouldn't arrive yet, he could clean himself up and pretend it never happened; he could go back to being normal for that one day.
Spike didn't really remember at what point Celestia did turn up; it could've been while he was flying towards the clearing, it could've been while he was in the process of digging the grave, but she did arrive, and the look of utter horror would never leave the dragon's memory. It was never a conversation he wanted to have, let alone while covered in blood. "Spike, I- I can't believe-, what have you done?" she began, stumbling over her words. Spike simply remained silent. What could he say? There he was, standing by a bleeding corpse, he himself was coated in the crimson liquid, and his only friend in the world looked like she was in shock. "When I sent you here, I wanted you to defend Ponyville, but not like this! Killing dragons, and this isn't your first, is it? Spike, this is sick! My word, what would Twilight have said?" All Spike could do was stare down at his claws as his mentor scolded his behaviour. He was a killer, this he had known for a long time, and this was nothing he didn't deserve. Yet, there was a certain sting that the mention of Twilight's name that warranted a response from the dragon, though he hardly spoke above a whisper. "Twilight would never have let me go."
Celestia blinked at the response, seeming almost insulted by the fact he had the nerve to speak when he was so at fault. "Excuse me?" Spike turned finally allowed his eyes to leave his claws, staring straight into his accuser's eyes. "You sent me here in full knowledge that these dragons weren't going to communicate, you knew that I would have to do this." Celestia was constantly shifting her eyes between the dead dragon, and her voice was shaking as she spoke once more. "Spike, this isn't you. You would never hurt a living creature!"
Spike glared at the princess, and she visibly trembled. His voice was cold, and venomous. "You're right; I never wanted to hurt a living creature. Yet, you sent me here." The dragon took one step forward, and the alicorn took several steps back. "I was scared, but determined. I had to protect Ponyville, you said so." Another step forward, and many more steps back. "The first kill was horrifying, I couldn't eat or sleep right for days, yet I still fought on, because I had a job to do." Spike felt as though he was pouring his heart out to the alicorn, yet she looked terrified of him. There was no sympathy in her eyes, only fear. "I'd pray every day that a dragon wouldn't appear over that mountain, I'd pray that I wouldn't have to take another life, but my prayers went unanswered." Spike reached his claw out towards the princess, looking for a friend, and she flinched away from him. Was a dragon so threatening to one that could be considered a god? "Then you, the one who sent me here, have the nerve to say that what I'm doing is wrong?!" If she could see him only as a monster, than he would act the part. The enraged guardian spewed his emerald flames above the pony in an attempt at intimidation, and it worked; the princess cowered, tears pouring from her eyes.
Spike towered over her, breathing heavily. With a single strike, he could've taken her life, with a breath, he could set her ablaze; but he didn't. "You come here every year and pretend that everything is alright, and up until now I've been happy to join you in that, but it seems that we both have to grow up. You can go back to your palace, you can sit on your throne, surrounded by ponies who adore you, and you can pretend that everything is just happy and joyous in your little kingdom. I will return to my cave, I do my duty, and I will protect Ponyville no matter the cost." Spike's rage had subsided, and he felt the all to familiar sting of guilt in his stomach. "Remember that, Celestia," his voice was softer as he turned away to return to his latest kill. The sight of the body still made him feel nauseous.
Despite everything, there was still one piece of information Spike needed, but when he turned to ask the alicorn, she was gone. That was the last time Spike spoke with Celestia, and the last time he celebrated the 'greatest day of the year'. Every day once again began to blend together, one day bleeding into the next, and with no way of obtaining more journals should he run out, the dragon began to limit his entries, soon only recording key details. Nopony was ever going to read them anyway, so there was no real need. Even if they found them, nopony wanted to know the thoughts of a monster.
As though fate had a rather peculiar sense of humour, Spike was snapped out of his thoughts by a familiar sound: another dragon. It was a light brown colour, and it couldn't have been much more than a third of the guardian's size. With a fresh reminder clear in his mind of his duty, the purple drake took to the sky towards his prey. Although there was one thing he forgot.
The dragon saw him coming fairly soon, and attempted to escape. Spike had to hand it to him, he had some serious speed. Luckily, the older reptile's superior wing strength paid off, and he was gaining on the fleeing trespasser. In a last ditch effort to shake his pursuer, the brown dragon changed direction, flying up and over Spike and soaring higher into the air. It caused the guardian to lose a significant amount of ground, but sure enough he was back on the other dragon's tail soon. Finally, he was in range, and Spike swung his claw out at his opponent. The younger dragon tried to swerve out of the way, but the hint of red that Spike saw indicated that- Wait, no, that wasn't right. The dragon wasn't wounded at all, and there was no blood on Spike's claws; there wasn't anything on Spike's claws. But, there was a hint of red, a particularly shiny red pendant plummeting towards the ground at high speed. Both predator and prey watched as the jewel fell, and for a moment, Spike was lost in his thoughts. If he left the gem to its fate, and chose to pursue the dragon, then he could very well lose the most important object in his life. But if he chose the gem, there was a significant chance the dragon could escape and inform the others of his position. Five words swung the decision.
"Oh, my little Spikey-Wikey!"
Spike flew as fast and he could, but the ruby was already so far gone. It was the point of a sewing needle amongst a field of green, and the dragon could feel his age coming back to haunt him. That ruby was everything to him, though, and he would be damned before he would lose it. Spike dived faster and faster towards the pendant, and managed to close the distance to the point he could almost reach it. Unfortunately, as he was closing the distance, so was the ground. It was as though two immense forces were working in unison to crush the gem between them, and the question was which would strike it first. As luck would have it, Spike was the one who made first contact, and he only just pulled up, sliding into the ground with the ruby clutched firmly in his claw. He was bruised, but nothing was broken.
Opening his claw, the dragon inspected his treasure. The golden chain was slightly scuffed, but nothing a good polish couldn't fix, and the gem itself was still flawless; a particularly relieving sight. This relief did not last, however, when the guardian remembered what he had just sacrificed to save the trinket. Taking to the sky once more, there was no sign of the younger dragon. It had presumably taken advantage of his attacker's distraction and escaped. With no trail left by the escaped reptile, there was no way of tracking him without overstepping his boundaries and giving away his location to the source of his grief itself. In over seven centuries, not a single dragon had ever escaped, and no doubt, the brown dragon would inform the roost of Spike's identity and location, and they would be upon him soon. All Spike could do was hold the ruby to his chest, and wait.
The day ended with Spike laying awake in his cave, unable to sleep for the fear of attack. If he were to be caught off guard, he would surely die, and then Ponyville was doomed. The fire ruby was in his claws, being switched between each individual finger like foals passing around some interesting object at show and tell. Spike missed seeing foals around; he missed seeing ponies in general. It had been a long time since Spike had felt scared, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to cope with it anymore. So, he watched, and he waited, and the sun rose in the morning regardless.
Fifty-three red roses. Fifty-three exactly. There had been fifty-four, but a forlorn filly along the path had been in need of one, and it was what she would've wanted anyway. Her generosity always did trump his greed, and maybe that was one of the reasons he loved her.
The walk to her place was always so long, but the journey was rarely uneventful. The town was so alive; ponies running here and there: fillies and colts lost in their own world of imagination, stallions and mares walking hoof in hoof, or simply groups of friends trotting along and sharing the joys of life. Spike made this walk alone, of course, but he didn't particularly mind. This was their time, anyway. If she deserved anything, it was the entirety of his attention.
There had been a time in his life that the mere idea of presenting the beautiful mare with such a gesture of affection would've stopped the dragon in his tracks, a mess of purple scales flushing red, but that time had passed, just as all others had before it. He was a drake grown, after all, and growing up was essential. Even then, he was still her little Spikey-Wikey. Or, at least he wanted to be.
Every year it was the same; the routine was without fail. Every year, it was one rose more, though, and he would never let himself lose count. This was her day, from that day to the last. He awoke at sunrise, just as he did the year before, and then he would wander down to the flower stalls at the market the moment they opened. Roses were always in high demand, and their price wasn't prone to dropping, but the dragon never missed out. It was possible the shopkeeper had caught on, but as the shopkeeper tended to change every few decades or so, it seemed unlikely.
The route never differed, and every step was taken with a certain familiarity. It was a trek the dragon was happy to make, and it was one he would make again. It was a labour of love, after all, and what force could ever hope to rival that? As he walked the path, Spike's eyes caught glimpses of recognition; small pieces of his friends scattered amongst the crowds, and among one sixth of those pieces, his grip on the flowers grew tighter. He wasn't far now, and soon she'd have them. He sincerely hoped he hadn't kept her waiting too long.
The large reptile knelt by the grave, swiping away the stray piles of leaves that littered the area, and placed the roses down gently against the headstone. His claw gently traced the outline of her name, a bitter smile creeping across his lips. He silently read the inscription, though he long ago committed it to memory. "Here lies Rarity. The Element of Generosity. Wife, Mother, Friend, and Revolutionary Fashionista." She would've liked that last part. She would've liked it a whole lot.
After a few minutes of silent fussing, wiping away any disrespectful smudges that might've come to fall upon his beloved's resting place, the lone visitor began to speak. "Fifty-four years, huh? It's been quite a while." His voice was breaking, but if he didn't talk, she was lost. She would've understood, given the circumstances. "There's one rose missing, sorry, but it made somepony's day, and I know you would've loved that." The grave gave no reply, but the image of the beautiful mare still stared straight at him, looking stunning as always.
By this stage, tears were cascading down the dragon's face, lining the cracks between his scales like rainfall to a bone dry desert path. "The boutique is going so well. They've really got your blood." He hadn't been to the boutique in decades. It hurt far too much to see the inside. "They look so much like you, all of them." He wanted to be strong, desperately, but it was proving futile, just like the year before, and the year before that. As desperate as he was to see her, the image would fade away, constantly reminding him that his love was no more.
"I miss you..." Three simple words, but they hurt more than any other. In order to say those simple three words, Spike had to admit to himself that she was gone, and he had to admit that she wasn't coming back. The sheer thought was enough to-
Flap, flap, flap.
Spike's eyes opened, his claws immediately grasping for the fire ruby, just to check if it was still there. The colossal guardian let out a relieved sigh as he found the gem where he left it.
Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Nine Thousand, and Ninety-Eight.
He sat up, stretching out his stiff joints and gazing out of his cave. They had arrived the previous day. Seven dragons, fairly large, and among them was the one who got away. When they first arrived in the area, he had panicked, thinking that Ponyville was in grave danger, but that fear had been unfounded. They weren't there for Ponyville, they weren't there to forage or destroy, they were there for him. The strongest warriors of the dragon roost had come to finally kill the monster that had plagued their lives for almost a millennia.
His hoard was depleted largely, as he had planted deposits of it around the clearing, and in other caves, hoping to throw his pursuers off of the scent, but it had only given them sustenance, and their hunt was ongoing. They had checked all of the caves immediately upon their arrival, but by digging into the centre of the mountain and using his hoard to hide the tunnel, they had merely thought he was on the run. But, much to Spike's displeasure, they were patient, and they would wait until he came back. Dragons were greedy creatures, and it was not common for one to abandon their hoard.
So, it was simply a matter of time before they found him, or he ran out of food, and then his death was inevitable. As large as he was, larger than any of them, he was outnumbered, and presumably outmatched.
The leader, or so he thought judging by the fact he led the pack, was an emerald drake with even deeper green spines across his long, serpentine body. His wingspan was, by far, the largest of the would be assassins, and the beast cast a wide shadow across the landscape as its keen eyes scouted the area.
The second dragon was far more bulky, perhaps even slightly pudgy, really. It was-
Flap, flap, flap.
They were coming, and he didn't have long. His tunnel was still hidden, but not by much, and it seemed that this would be where his last stand was staged. Shoving the pile of gems, knickknacks and other pointless garbage aside, Spike backed into his tunnel. It wasn't wide enough for any sort of sideways movement, so if he wanted to stay aware of his surroundings, he had to go in backwards. Once he was in position, the dragon began to stack his hoard back over the entrance, his heart racing in his chest as the incessant flapping got louder and louder. But, as the last gem was placed, something caught his eye. A glimmer of dullness amongst the default shine. It was a photo album. If he was going to die, his last thoughts would be of home. The book was in his claws before he finished the thought.
"Still no sign of it." He heard a deep, gruff voice emerge from the outer world; one of the dragons, of course. "Are you sure you're not just crazy, Tzarif? That would save us a lot of time." "These gems didn't come out of nowhere, and stop joking about this! Dragons have been dying for centuries, and we finally know why!" Tzarif, the dragon who had escaped, had a much less intimidating voice, but it still had the deadly hiss wild dragons tended to exhibit. Or, maybe he was just a bit annoyed.
The group started to eat away at the guardian's shield, and the fear slowly began to fade into anticipation. They would break through eventually, and then the end would come. Spike didn't fear death as much as he feared what his death would bring upon Ponyville. He had been given one task, one chance to prove his life a worthwhile endeavour, and he had failed. All he could hope was that his death would somehow satisfy the bloodthirsty creatures, and they would leave his real treasure alone. It was a thin hope.
What was Ponyville, really? Besides the obvious fact that it once housed the Elements of Harmony, what good did it do Equestria? Sweet Apple Acres was minuscule in comparison to some of the orchards around the world. The Ponyville Library, though it contained the history of Princess Twilight Sparkle, was feeble when held against the vast variety within the Canterlot Library. The town held no purpose, and yet Spike had been guarding it for centuries. Celestia should've just evacuated and let the dragons take what they wanted. He was the protector, and now he was going to die along with them. What was the point?
But, in a moment of clarity, there it was. Held within the dragon's claws was all the reason he needed. In one claw, there was a photo album, a simple, leather-bound photo album. In the other, there was a golden pendant, covered in scratches and marks from centuries of being held against rough scales, but preserved to a gentle glow. Spike remembered now. It was terrible of him to forget.
He put the album down on the floor of his tunnel, delicately turning the ancient pages. The pictures had all aged dreadfully, and the atmosphere of a cave was hardly gentle on them, but his eyes could just about make them out. It didn't take long before the dragon was lost in his memories; they welcomed him like an old friend, and rightfully so. After all, that's what he was: an old friend.
The picture was almost falling to pieces, but the image still seemed so clear, as if he had taken it only yesterday. Spike was only a child, no more than sixteen years old. Actually, he was exactly sixteen years old, and the picture was taken at his sixteenth birthday. He was a shrimpy child, as was to be expected of such a long-living race, and the smile that was painted across his face was not likely to be seen again.
Surrounding the young drake were his friends, the heroes of Equestria, and on either side were his dear caretaker, Twilight Sparkle, and the love of his life... Rarity.
Spike rubbed his eyes, hoping that somehow he could rid himself of the blindness that camera flashes brought with them on their journey to memories. None of the ponies around him seemed to care half as much, maybe dragons just had more sensitive eyes?
Once vision was restored to the drake, the sight of his surroundings was more than enough to bring a smile back to his face. The room was so filled with colour, and its inhabitants certainly matched. Given, Spike didn't actually know half of the attendees of his party, but that was a Pinkie Pie party for you. As long as everypony was having a good time, he couldn't really fault it in any way.
After the previous year's debacle, in which a certain dragon had rampaged through the town, Spike had opted to refuse presents, instead giving the party his full, undivided attention. Attention that was very much focused around a particular group of ponies. Attention that was gravitated mainly towards one pony in particular. There was only one mare that's mere presence brightened the room to a shine that rivalled Celestia's sun itself: Rarity.
He had known her for just over two years now, and he had loved her since the very first day. But, with this day, he made a decision. A decision that would change their lives forever. Spike the dragon was going to finally ask Rarity out. Not just 'out' as in 'outside the building', which he had done several times in the past when he had went to ask her out, chickened right out, and then rephrased it so that they were just standing outside for a bit. No, it wasn't one of those times.
Once the group of ponies surrounding her had dispersed just a little bit, the young dragon took his opportunity by the horns, and charged straight in. Well, it wasn't much of a charge, more of a casual saunter, really. His best attempts at looking casual proved futile though, as his nerves got the better of him, and he spent the better part of ten seconds walking towards the mare at an awkwardly slow pace, staring at her like he'd just received a few hundred thousand volts of electricity through his spine. It was strange how oddly specific his analogies became when he was nervous.
"Um, Rarity?" His voice was quiet; too quiet. So quiet that, in fact, Rarity didn't hear him over the noise of the party. So, in a stroke of brilliance, Spike did what he had done several times before. "Hey, Rarity," the young dragon began, raising his voice ever so slightly to be heard over the commotion inside, "can I talk to you outside for a minute?" The mare smiled and nodded in agreement, and before he knew it, there was silence.
The night was fairly cool, cool as a cucumber covered in cottage cheese. Why was there cottage cheese on the cucumber? Because Spike's mind had decided that would be colder than a regular cucumber. Before him stood the mare of his dreams, but the sheer sight of her short circuited his brain, and that meant all tact and cleverness that he may, or may not, have possessed previously had leaked somewhere onto the pavement, leaving only a blushing, staring, smiling little lizard behind without the power to form a proper sentence. "What was it you wanted to speak about, Spike?" Her voice was like velvet on a... Uh... Okay, so there were no analogies to describe how beautiful her voice was.
Averting his eyes in a last ditch effort to bring some sort of control to his brain, the dragon managed to squeeze out the beginning of a sentence. "I.. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" The mare looked up at the cloudless sky, allowing the most beautiful smile in Equestria to be born upon her lips. "Yes, I supp-" "Not as beautiful as you!" Now, two things had occurred there. One: Spike had ignored the concept of timing, and two: Spike had ignored the concept of volume. Instead of making a sweet, smooth comment about her beauty, he had interrupted her agreement by yelling out a compliment like a moron.
But, his angel wasn't prone to sin, and she rewarded his stupidity with a giggle and a smile. "Why thank you, Spikey-Wikey." Perfection wasn't good enough for her, she deserved something more. But, being the brainless husk of a creature that being around her made him, there would be no chance in tartarus that he'd come up with a better word. Maybe, it was just a thought, but he could've been trying to actually say what he wanted to say instead of figuring out a stage beyond perfection. That seemed logical. "Now, what is it that you wanted to tell me?"
It was do or die, now or never, go or stop, sink or swi- He was doing it again. Clenching his claws into fists, taking a deep breath, and giving her his most debonair, suave smile, Spike the dragon bit the bullet, took the plunge, made a leap of faith, hit the ground ru- Oh, Celestia smite him down. "Rarity, I know we've known each other for a long time, and there's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time." That's what it was in his head, anyway, the real thing was without spaces or punctuation, amalgamating into one super word that challenged all concepts of literacy.
There was a change in the mare's demeanour, and it wasn't especially positive. A smile remained on her beautiful, beautiful face, but there was something in her eyes, maybe it was panic, maybe it was nerves, but there was definitely a reaction. However, Spike was in far too deep to just give up, so he continued. "And, I guess you remember what I said, or what I tried to say last year when we were falling, but I-" Oh, buck it. He was getting nowhere fast, and if he was sixteen years old, he had to start acting like it. "Rarity, would you go out with me? Not out as in outside, because we're already outside, but on a real 'date' date?" He almost said please. He honest to Celestia almost said please, like a child begging for a toy.
There was a pause, a pause that allowed Spike's heart to perform an entire acrobatics routine, leaping from his chest to his throat, then sinking back into his stomach for the big finale. A frown replaced the gorgeous smile that Rarity had held, and soon she spoke, a certain sadness in her voice that Spike had never heard, or wanted to hear. "Oh, Spikey... I don't know what to say." The simple answer seemed to be 'say yes', but that was beyond his ability as a lifeless stump staring at the mare who held his heart in her hooves. Every word was just another tight squeeze. "I'm flattered, really, but we're just so different!"
This is what it felt like to die, he knew it. She was going to refuse him, she was going to avoid him, this was the end of their friendship, and he could just watch it crumble. Tears stung at his eyes, but he couldn't tell if they were falling or not. He felt numb, like he was just watching all of this happen from a distant planet in a different universe, and he was an observer to the greatest tragedy he had ever known. "I mean, I'm so much older than you, and you're only just starting life- I mean, what I'm trying to say, Spike, is that..." Suddenly, her expression changed, and so did Spike's. A smile grew across her face, and she reached a hoof out to gently touch his cheek. The dragon melted against her, all feelings of sadness falling away as he became lost in the sapphire waters of her eyes. "Not yet, Spikey... Maybe some day."
His heart did a repeat performance, this time in reverse. It was really quite impressive, if anyone could see it. There was a chance, she wasn't refusing him. A smile spread across his maw, threatening to break the very borders of his face. "O-Okay, Rarity." He sounded like a lovestruck schoolboy, and that was pretty much what he was, no matter how mature he felt. She gently kissed his cheek, causing Spike's heart to pull out its ace performance, leaving the dragon a blushing, silly looking creature. "You're very sweet, Spikey-Wikey." Her voice was like silk being slowly moved through a pool filled with cream and rose petals. A strange image, but it made sense at the time. He would-
Spike was knocked out of his memories by a loud crunch emanating from the cave, followed by a growl from one of the dragons. "Are you really that dense, Kespix? We're trying to lure it back to the cave, not alert that pony town!" That voice belonged to the green one, whatever his name was. They didn't always use names, unless completely necessary. Whatever reason they had, it was never a pleasant thing to not be able to match a face to a name, or visa versa.
With nothing else to do, Spike turned the page, and was greeted with another photograph. With the threat of death coming ever closer with each morsel the dragons took, the guardian retreated into his memories once again, at least he could see her again. If only one last time.
Another picture that time had not been kind to, it was almost impossible to make out the ponies it was of. Well, it was especially impossible to identify a particular pony. That pony was a dark coloured pegasus stallion with a sky blue and white mane that was styled into some sort of mohawk, and there were several scratches over his face. The picture was a depiction of Spike's six dearest friends, and their significant others. It was Twilight's twenty-seventh birthday party, if he remembered correctly, and they were all at a picnic in the park. Spike wasn't in this photo, though. No, he was the one behind the camera. A recurring theme throughout his life.
Rarity rubbed at her eyes, but not because of the flash. Given, that's what she was trying to make it seem like she was doing, but her real purpose was to try and look cute, and Thunderlane bought it, hook, line, and sinker. The two may have shared their happy moment, a kiss exchanged between the two, much to the other members of the group's joy. But, there was one observer who found it be more than a bit unpleasant, and that was the bitter bag of scales behind the camera.
Since that day where he thought he had a chance, Spike had seen several suitors come and go from Rarity's side, and Thunderlane would be no different. He was just another shallow, wannabe nice guy, and he would eventually screw up like the others did. It had been two years, and his chance was almost there.
The issue had been that Spike wasn't old enough for her, but now he was eighteen, he was an adult. Age no longer mattered, and all it would take was for the breakup to come. It was rather harsh of him to will that upon the mare, seeing as she seemed so infatuated with the newest boy-toy, but it would be worth it in the end. Nopony would ever make her as happy as Spike would. He just knew it.
"I think I blinked! Did I blink? It felt like when that photo went off I was just all 'my eyes are tired, I should blink', and I think I blinked! Spike, do you think I blinked?" Pinkie Pie hadn't blinked, but there was no way to be certain. Pokey seemed to find his marefriend's frantic jabberings to be charming, and that was nice. Being the only single one in his group, the dragon had come to loathe things that were 'nice' in that sense. "Maybe take just one more? Please, Spike? Please please please please?" He simply rolled his eyes and got back into his position behind the camera; the ponies arranged themselves without another word.
Twelve ponies, six couples, six happy couples. Every smile on every face was genuine, and none of them thought it would end. They were right. With the flash of the camera, time seemed to lose all meaning.
Once again, Spike backed away from the camera, looking beyond the device to the ponies he was photographing. Six couples, none had changed, and all were still happy; some were even more so. It was Fluttershy's wedding reception, and Rarity had been with Thunderlane for over a year.
After having their photo taken, the group had dispersed, some of the girls congratulating Fluttershy, telling her how beautiful she looked, and a group of stallions had already surrounded Big Mac, slapping him on the back and muttering loving insults into their friend's ear. Spike joined neither group, and just cleaned his camera lens. It was the only company he needed, really, and it was all the company he was going to get.
The dragon was dressed in a tuxedo, no surprises there, but he had abandoned his old one quite some time ago. In recent years, Spike had grown. It wasn't a massive growth spurt like he had hoped for, but it was enough to be noticeable. The distance he had to look up, and the distance ponies had to look down, had reduced considerably, though, and his jaw had started to finally take a shape that wouldn't be called 'chubby' or 'cute'. Just another reason why he and Rarity would eventually make it. All he had to do was wait.
Speaking of the mare, she was approaching the dragon. Spike attempted to downplay how happy he was to see her, but the goofy grin he had commonly adorned as a baby dragon carried over quite nicely, no matter how big he got. Rarity looked ravishing as ever, dressed elegantly in her bridesmaid attire. Her mane was even styled up just for the occasion. "How did the picture look, Spikey? I do hope I didn't blink." Her voice, as smooth as ever, had the slightest crack to it, a side effect of a close friend getting married, he supposed. "You looked beautiful, Rarity. Not a single flaw." The mare batted a hoof at him, giggling a little bit. "Always such a charmer, Spikey-Wikey." He wanted to say more, he wanted desperately to ask her about every little aspect of her life, just to hear her voice, but it wasn't meant to be, and Thunderlane waved her over. "Oh, I must be off. I suppose I shall see you later, Spike." And with that, she was gone. His love had once again left his side, and gone into the arms of another.
As she walked away, seemingly becoming more and more distant, the dragon couldn't help but feel that there was still something there, a chance at happiness with the mare of his dreams. No matter how much time passed, his heart only beat for her, and it didn't seem like that was going to change.
Fluttershy and her father were scheduled to do their dance, and the music changed to suit the occasion. It was soft music, performed by none other than Fluttershy's own bird choir. Even in his sadness, it brought a smile to Spike's face to see the timid mare he knew taking that last step into happiness. It was a moment worth capturing, and so he did. Stepping behind the camera once more, Spike lined up his shot, and the flash went off.
Three years. Thunderlane and Rarity had been together for three years, and, in Pinkie Pie's true style, this had to be celebrated with a party. There were decorations everywhere, champagne to spare, and the music could be described as 'classy', if not 'fancy'. It was a strangely elegant affair, which was unlike Pinkie's true style. That was the first warning bell that went off in Spike's head.
The second warning came in the form of Pinkie Pie's behaviour. Unlike her usually over the top self, she was far more reserved than usual, speaking in whispers and giggling quietly to herself about some joke that no one else had heard. It could lead to no good, really. The dragon still remembered the pink mare's adoration for pranks, and it seemed that this would be a prime opportunity for one. In any case, Spike was there, camera ready, supporting whatever happened.
As much as the dragon didn't want to celebrate such an occasion, he knew he had to be there for Rarity, he had to be her friend. If he was going to be her perfect match, then he would have to be there for the good times and the bad ones. He would have to be there for her no matter what, and that's what he would show her when it was his chance. A smile crept onto his lips just thinking of it.
"Yes! Oh, Celestia, yes!" He could never mistake Rarity's voice, and his head immediately snapped to where she was. No. Oh, Celestia, no. It all made sense, and it hurt terribly. Pinkie Pie hadn't planned this party, Thunderlane did. There were no balloons, no colourful streamers everywhere, it was far too clean and tidy for the party pony's taste. The reason she was giggling, the reason she was so reserved, is because she was keeping a Pinkie Promise. She was keeping the night's events a secret. Thunderlane was crouched in front of Rarity, a small, ornate box clutched in his hoof. The box was was open, and inside was a ring; a ring with a diamond that shone as bright as Rarity herself did. The mare had her hooves over her mouth, tears streaming from her face, and she was smiling wider than Spike had ever seen.
While the party erupted into cheers, and the new engaged couple shared a kiss, one attendee was silent, cleaning the lens of his camera for the umpteenth time, despite the fact it was crystal clear. Unsurprisingly, Thunderlane called out to Spike, asking for a photo of the happy occasion. The dragon, of course, complied, a smile painted across his muzzle. To the party, he must've seemed extremely happy, it wasn't often you saw a male friend crying with joy at a friend's engagement. The camera flashed as they kissed again, leaving Spike with just one bitter epiphany. He was never going to get his chance, and his heart tore in two.
As time went on, the camera that once filled album after album began to gather dust on the edge of a shelf in the library, and its owner did the same. Twilight had moved out when she married Comet Tail, leaving Spike as the only librarian in Ponyville. Nopony wanted books, and nopony wanted the dragon, so it all fit perfectly, really. No, Spike hadn't had the most enjoyable few months since his love had gotten engaged.
At first, he tried to hate her. She fed him lie upon lie, made him think that maybe he had a chance, and then broke his heart like a twig under a carriage wheel. But, no matter how much he thought those thoughts, how much he wanted to blame someone else, he couldn't. She was blameless in this, as she was in most things. She was a perfect angel, and, though he lost her, he still loved her.
So, the dragon had taken to a new approach of avoiding the pain he suffered every time his eyes rested on the most beautiful jewel he could never obtain: evasion. Since the engagement, Spike had slowly receded from his friends, making excuses to not go on outings, faking illness, and inventing a heavy workload that could never even begin to exist. Eventually, they had just stopped inviting him, getting some sort of hint that he wanted to be alone.
Twilight still visited fairly often, and Spike would put on quite the show. He would smile, ask about life, make up stories about how good he was going, and then, after a few hours, she would leave once again, convinced that her assistant was doing just fine. But he wasn't doing just fine, and the worst was yet to come. As much as the dragon wanted to ignore it, and as much as he wished it wasn't coming, Rarity's wedding was only a few hours away, and there was no way Spike was going.
Despite the strained nature of their relationship following his avoidance of interaction entirely, Rarity had been rather insistent that Spike still attend 'the happiest day of her life'. Spike considered it the lowest point of his. As the hours bled into minutes, and the moment came closer and closer, it all came crashing down on him.
This was it. There was nothing beyond this point that would ever make him happy again. Years of patience, years of dreaming, and it was all going to end with two 'I do's.
The ceremony was going to start in less than half an hour; he knew this from Twilight hammering on his door, which remained locked. She deserved to enjoy her night, a mopey dragon wasn't going to make things better. Comet was with her, he'd take care of her; he'd make it much easier in the end.
The decision hadn't been hard; it was all logical, you see. Every moment he was around, his friends' quality of life depleted, and with foals around the corner, they didn't need the negative influence.
The knife had to be the sharpest he had. It had to be quick, deadly, and efficient. He really needed to put a tarp down or something, he wouldn't want to ruin the library floor on his way out.
They still had fun, right? Twilight was always telling him about all the great times he had missed, and the laughs they shared during their gatherings. That wouldn't change without him; in fact, it would just save Twilight the trouble of repeating it over and over again. An unnecessary burden that she wouldn't need to suffer anymore.
The books were organised well enough; Twilight wouldn't think he spent his last moments slacking, no, he was a good assistant. Always was. That's how she'd remember him, right? A good assistant who just made a mistake?
Rarity didn't need him ruining her big day, no, that would be selfish of him. Dragons were known for being selfish, greedy creatures, and he didn't need to perpetuate that stereotype anymore than he already did. She must've looked so beautiful in her wedding gown. She would've designed it herself, of course, and it would've been her finest work to date. A shame that Spike would never see it, but it was probably for the best. He didn't need to heartache.
A note. Yes, a note was needed. What would it say? 'Dear Twilight, I'm sorry.' But what if somepony else found it first? What if Twilight didn't get the message? Would he start it with 'To whom it may concern', or did that seem too formal? Maybe he should've just written something general. But one thing was certain, it couldn't mention Rarity, no, it couldn't. He wouldn't want her to blame herself, especially on her big day.
As he sat there on the bed, staring at a hastily scribbled suicide note, and a gleaming silver knife clutched firmly in his trembling claw, Spike the dragon took a moment to think over his life. Raised by royalty, taught to serve, and abandoned. Nopony would be writing a story about the life of Spike the dragon.
Twilight would take it the hardest, of course. She was the last one who saw him, and she was knocking at his door right before it happened. Comet would help her get through it, though. Him and all of the others. Pinkie Pie would try to cheer everypony up after it was over; that was her job, after all, and she was damn good at it. Rainbow Dash wouldn't care all that much, he'd be surprised if she remembered him after a month. Applejack would say something consoling to Twilight, but deep inside, she'd probably resent him, think he was a coward. Maybe he was a coward, it wouldn't be the first time he ran away from his problems. Fluttershy, the dear, soft soul, she'd be devastated, not because it was Spike specifically, but because she was tenderhearted like that. Hopefully she'd realise there was nothing she could've done. Rarity... Rarity would be disappointed, to say the least, but in the end she'd get over it. She wouldn't miss the drawn out looks he'd given her, she wouldn't miss the constant pestering at her boutique, begging to assist her when she was more than capable of doing it herself, and she certainly wouldn't miss the sulking sack of shit he'd become.
Somewhere, in the centre of the town, a beautiful mare was marrying the stallion of her dreams. She was surrounded on all sides by friends, family, and well-wishers, and everything looked perfect. As the couple drew closer for their first kiss as husband and wife, the crowd erupted into cheering. Groomscolts wolf-whistled at their friend, bridesmaids burst into tears of joy, and it all seemed to be out of a storybook.
Somewhere, in the top floor of a library, a sullen dragon was going to end his life. He was alone, save for countless works of literature, all of which had been organised, categorised, and painstakingly dusted by him over the course of his day. As he lowered the knife to his vein, he crumbled into a sobbing mess. The knife clanked onto the wooden floor, unused and worthless, and Spike the dragon found that his escape route had led nowhere.
He was awoken the next day by a incessant rapping at his door, someone obviously couldn't wait until the dragon starved to death. The sulking drake managed to drag himself down the stairs and answer the call, and what he found was neither surprising or joyous. Twilight Sparkle stood before him, tears in her eyes, and before he could process it, her hooves were already around him.
"You wouldn't answer, and I thought something happened to you!" The unicorn managed to choke out through her sobs. Spike simply remained silent, running a claw slowly through his oldest friend's mane as she voiced her concerns. It was all just white noise to him by now; another sound in the background that he had to filter through. Rarity was gone, and he had let her go without even the slightest resistance.
His eyes locked onto something, something that was left on his step. Twilight continued to talk, but no words made it to Spike's mind, because it was blank. On the front step of his library was a golden pendant, containing a beautiful fire ruby. It was strangely familiar, really, like he had known it for years, but for the sake of him, he couldn't remember where. Maybe it was just the stress of the past few weeks, or his willingness to forget, or, maybe, he just didn't want to recognise the significance of the gesture.
After the lavender mare had released him from her worried grip, Spike stooped down, scooped up the necklace, and let it dangle limp from his claw, his other hand occupied with the paper that was beneath the jewel.
No hard feelings, Spikey-Wikey. We really must talk more often, I fear we're losing touch! -Much love, Rarity.
It was signed in her usual flourish, and he couldn't help but notice it smelled like her. She must've left it right before she left, otherwise Twilight would've noticed before she gave up knocking the night before. Rarity noticed that he wasn't there. Rarity had thought about him. The sun caught the ruby, and a gleam directly in his eye snapped the dragon out of his daze.
"Spike, what is it?" What was once in the background came speeding towards the foreground, and his friend's voice became far more prominent. "It's nothing," he replied, wiping sleep and dried tears from the corners of his eyes, "I just wish I'd felt better last night. Guess I missed something really special." Spike smiled down at the ruby in his claw, and it smiled right back. "I don't think I'll let that happen again." She didn't just give him some random gem she had lying around, she didn't just give him some lifeless piece of jewellery, she gave him back the first sign of his love that he ever gave her, and he couldn't let himself think that was just coincidence. He still had his chance; he just had to wait.
"Hey, guys, check this out!" The rough, grating voice of another dragon knocked Spike out of yet another memory-induced daze. Panic flooded into the ancient guardian as he quickly inspected the state of his cover; had he been discovered already? After a few seconds of life continuing, Spike allowed himself to banish that fear along with the rest. They must've found something else. "It's some sort of old book." With the mention of old books, he allowed himself to return to his. He had turned several pages during his reminiscence, and all that was left to do was turn the page once more.
The picture had fared better than the others thus far, probably due to lack of visitation. Unlike the others, this picture wasn't heartbreaking, or heartwarming, it was just a picture of a very interesting time of Spike's life. Once again, it was a group photograph, with all of the mares he loved so dearly. With them were their significant others, all married at this stage, and a few, namely Fluttershy, Applejack and Rarity, had little ones with them. A little colt rested safely on Big Mac's broad shoulders, a filly stood between her parents, an oversized stetson engulfing her head, and a newborn filly was being held by Thunderlane, who had the biggest grin on his face that Spike had ever seen.
As the flash wore off, and the group began to murmur to each other, gradually building towards conversation and laughter, Spike took the time to examine his handiwork. Another one for the album, of course. Rarity, as usual, was the first to rush to the dragon to make sure she had looked beautiful as always, and he welcomed it greatly.
It had been four years since Spike had been given his life back, and he wasn't wasting a single moment of it. The group had welcomed him back with open hooves, and it wasn't long before he became the photographer again. A shelf in the library had been cleared specifically for the drake's growing collections of albums, and the sitting room was always kept in a constant state of cleanliness for when he entertained, which was surprisingly frequently.
Twilight maintained her weekly visits, with more enthusiasm than ever from both sides of the conversation, and Spike no longer had to lie. It was amazing the things he had to talk about when he actually was out doing stuff. Applejack brought Ginger Gold to the library once and a while to exchange one book for another. The filly loved reading all about monsters and critters; she kept mentioning cultivating them on the farm when it was all hers. Goodness knows where she got it from. Rainbow Dash, even as she grew older, had to be on top of every single new Daring Do adventure that came to Spike's domain. The moment they started the new series, it was almost as though the Wonderbolt couldn't stay away. Pinkie Pie still borrowed the library occasionally to host some wild party, but she wasn't one for reading or having a nice, quiet chat. It was still nice that she visited, he supposed. Finally, there was Rarity, who kept her word and talked to Spike far more often than before.
It had started off with just a simple rendezvous, but, after all the fun they had, it became a tradition. Every week or so, she would come to the library, she would put little Onyx to sleep upstairs, and she and the librarian would sit with a nice cup of tea, or a hot cocoa sometimes in the winter, and they would talk, and talk, and talk. They would talk about her business, about his library, about the comings and goings of Ponyville, and the silliest things they had seen that week. They talked about events that were on their way, and events that had had their time long ago. They confided in each other, sharing secrets and troubles, and whenever they had a bad day, the other was there.
Spike had never stopped loving Rarity, in fact his feelings seemed to grow stronger with each meeting, but this new relationship was one he was content with. He was able to make her laugh, comfort her when she cried, and share the simplest of pleasures with her, what more could he ask for? Yet, there was one moment he dreaded in their meetings: a single instance of pure bitterness that he couldn't shake. When the tea cups were empty, and they had run out of steam for that particular conversation, she would say her goodbyes, she would collect her foal, and she would walk out of Spike's door, on her way back to Thunderlane. No matter how many times she laughed, or how many times she cried into his shoulder, there was a husband at home, and a life waiting for her.
The librarian would go back to his life as well, of course, he had his meeting with Twilight to prepare for, and countless albums to keep updated and organised, but it all seemed to be filler. No matter how much he occupied himself, or how much fun he convinced himself that he was having, he was still waiting for Rarity to return, put her foal to sleep, and make his life shine brighter than ever.
Speaking of shining, the ruby had a routine of its own. Spike didn't leave it out on display, no, that would give the wrong impression if anyone saw it. If Rarity, for instance, were to see it, then she might've thought that he was thinking too much of their relationship, and that would jeopardise the weekly meetings. So, to prevent this, while still keeping the ruby well cared for, Spike would take it out of its hiding place, namely his dresser drawer, every day and shine it. This happened during that golden hour between being awake and being asleep, and it always ensured that the dragon's last thoughts before dreaming were of his beautiful Rarity. It was still a sign, and four years of patience was merely another notch in his belt. He would have his chance, and it would all be worth it. His chance came no more than three weeks after that photograph was taken.
The tea set was all laid out, perfect down to the last detail. Every surface was dusted and polished to a gorgeous shine, and Spike allowed himself a self-satisfied grin. Rarity would arrive shortly, and then the meeting would begin. He already had his topics all planned out. Firstly, he would mention how close the Grand Galloping Gala was, and the excited banter between them would probably take up the first ten minutes of their meeting. Secondly, he would ask about her week, as social etiquette dictated, and she would tell him, which usually took around fifteen to twenty minutes of the meeting, assuming it didn't lead onto branching conversations. When he was next able to bring up a topic, he would bring up the news about Twilight's pregnancy, and, even though they were both there when she announced it, they would go on and on about it until their tea was either gone or cold. Hit it home with a few questions about her business and some general hearsay around the town, and Spike had prepared himself a wonderful afternoon with the mare.
His thoughts were interrupted, rather suddenly, by the guest in question opening and closing his door with equal parts anger and frustration; Onyx was not with her, and the usual routine of placing the foal upstairs was replaced with letting a saddlebag fall to the wooden floor with a loud clunk. All of the dragon's plans were immediately abandoned, and his new goal was set: he was going to fix this. He gestured towards the mare's usual seat, which she took in the same manner as previously stated, and after a huff or two, Spike spoke. "Okay, what happened?" Anger quickly turned to tears, and Spike was blur to her side, immediately locking the unicorn in a comforting embrace.
The details were a little hazy, but the basics still remained engraved in Spike's mind. Thunderlane had been in a mood of sorts, as being the parent of a newborn usually justified, and some misfired frustration turned into a full scale argument. They had argued before, and Spike was well learned in the records of these fights that mares rarely forgot, but this one was different. Names were thrown back and forth, past pains were brought back into the equation, and wild accusations were tossed in like live fireworks into a fire. This all built until eventually the result was one crying foal being cradled by a brooding stallion, and one mare storming out of their home fighting back tears.
"...and I just don't know what to do, Spike! I really don't know!" Even when her voice was hoarse from weeping, Rarity sounded beautiful. It was the wrong time to think about that, but it was the truth. As knelt there, holding the love of his life as she wept for the love of hers, Spike finally realised that it was his time. When he was sixteen, he thought it had been time to lay all of his cards out on the table, but he hadn't even made it past the first round of betting yet. Now, he sat at the high-rollers' table, and it was time to go all-in. He swallowed the rock that had formed in his throat, he licked his lips that felt dry as bone, and he spoke. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to go into my bathroom, and you're going to clean yourself up. You're then going to take all the time you need to calm down, I'll be here if you need me, and then you're going to go back there and fix things with your husband. If not for him, then for Onyx." He hated how much of a coward he was.
The mare nodded, smiled for the first time since she left her home, and followed instructions, leaving a dragon with a very wet shoulder staring into a particularly fascinating section of dictionaries. Surely, there was a word in one of them that described him; some sort of magical word that would sum it all up nicely. He looked around, and all he could see was the world he had chosen for himself. An isolated existence far away from his hopes and dreams, away from any sort of ambition. He couldn't count the nights he had stayed up wishing for a chance like the one he just had, and when he had it, he let it go. And for what, a pat on the back for doing the right thing? If he was so adept at solving relationship problems, then why couldn't he fix his? Namely the lack of a relationship. No, Spike was going to continue to exist alone, in a library, surrounded by the words of people smarter than he was.
That's when it hit him. He hadn't folded his hand, he had merely checked to see if she placed a bet. She hadn't; she had checked as well. Now, it was his move, and he had an ace up his sleeve. Quickly darting upstairs, fuelled entirely by years of pent up romance, Spike retrieved the fire ruby, some parchment, and a quill. He dipped the quill in ink, and then continued to pour his heart out onto the page. Everything he longed to say, everything he wished he had already said, every little speck of emotion he had, he put into as few words as possible. After checking that the mare was still safely hidden away in the bathroom, he slipped the ruby and the note into her saddlebag, and returned to his seat. He had gone all-in, and his hand was revealed.
The minutes in which Rarity was in the bathroom were some of the longest that Spike had ever experienced. He kept considering taking the note back, or stashing them both away somewhere not even he could find them. Why did he think it was a good idea, especially after all that Rarity had been through already that night? His heart was racing, his breath was quickening, his eyes were darting around the room, and he was considering the possibility that he was having a heart attack. It was then that the door opened, and the mare of the hour emerged. She looked much better, thankfully, and a smile was painted across her face.
"Thank you so much, Spikey-Wikey, that was just what I needed. You truly are the best friend a mare could ask for." She planted a kiss on his cheek. Usually, that would cause his heart to flutter and his mind to turn into some form of butter that had been left out in the sun for too long, but this time it just sunk his heart deeper into his gut. This was going to be the last time he had a meeting with Rarity, and likely the last time he would see her again. He would be lucky if he kept half of his friend circle once it got out. "I'm so sorry that I cut our meeting short, but you're right. I owe it to my foal to act like a mature mare, and I will not let my Onyx down. I suppose I'll see you next week?" Spike managed to force a smile and slow his breathing to speak, "Y-Yeah, of course." His throat felt like sandpaper, and he feared that he might bite off his own tongue if it continued to spasm around in his mouth. "Well, ta-ta for now, Spikey-Wikey."
And then she was gone. In a matter of seconds, she had picked up her saddlebag, and walked out the door, taking with her Spike's heart. What had he done? A crack echoed through the room, and the dragon's eyes immediately darted to the source. In his tension, he had ripped the armrest of his favourite chair clean off. With nothing left to do, he saw to cleaning the splinters off of the floor.
The golden hour was empty for him now. It was funny how little he thought about giving away the ruby before it was gone. The simplest act of just shining a jewel every night before sleeping could have the biggest impact, and he never realised. Now, he just sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall with such an intensity that he expected the fixture to start blushing at any moment. This intimacy was interrupted by a loud knock at the door.
It was not uncommon for colts, specifically those bordering on their cutiemarks, to do what was usually called 'baiting the dragon', which involved knocking at his door at ungodly times of the night and trying to get a reaction out of him. Proved they were brave apparently, but Spike saw nothing brave in annoying the librarian. Still, he had his default response to give, "We're not open! Come back tomorrow if you want books." The knocking persisted, however. Apparently they were really throwing the dragon some juicy bait. With a grumble, he began the trek down the stairs. "If it's you again, Sooty, I'm not going to be amused." The knocking replied in kind, louder and faster than ever. What were these colts being fed if they could knock that hard? Spike was starting to fear for his door-hinges.
After reaching the rapidly convulsing entrance, the reptile threw it open, scowling down at a pair of white legs. The knocker was taller than he expected. Taller, more beautiful, and crying her eyes out. Spike never wanted to make Rarity cry, but sometimes that was what happened when someone did something stupid. All that was left to do was accept the consequences of his actions.
Rarity took a step forward, and Spike took a step back. In her magical grasp was the note: the note that Spike had placed to accompany the ruby, and presumably what made her cry. "I can expl-" "How long?" Spike's words were cut off by hers. It was hard to tell whether she was sad or angry, and at that moment it was a rather crucial difference. "Rarity, let me sp-" "Tell me how long!" The note flew at him, tapping harmlessly at his snout before floating down to the floor, where her saddlebag quickly joined it, the ruby rolling out amongst a pile of fabric and sewing doodads. The difference between sadness and anger grew less and less important. He just wanted her to stop crying now; he really wanted her to just smile again.
Spike fell back onto the couch, holding his head in his claws, and answered the question. "Since the day of your wedding." That wasn't right. "Since my sixteenth birthday." He was still lying. "Since the day I met you." He was getting warmer. "There has not been a moment since I saw that I haven't loved you, Rarity. You're the first thing I think of when I wake up, the last thing I think of before I sleep, and a great deal of what I think of in between." He was going too far, he knew he was going too far. But, as he had already lost all of his chips, so what was worth concealing? "When you got engaged, I couldn't eat or sleep. When you got married, I almost k-" It was his turn to break down, his turn to cry, and he was going to use it. "I'm sorry... Please, just let me be sorry." He didn't want to lose her. He couldn't lose her. After all his patience, after every long sleepless night, after all of the trials, how could it end like this?
The weeping dragon felt the couch shift slightly, followed soon by a soft pair of hooves wrapping around him. A voice as gentle as the stillest ocean spoke to him in a soothing whisper, "I'm sorry, Spike... I really am." He felt her head rest on his shoulder, and warm tears rolled down his shoulder to his back. "You poor, sweet dragon..." He made her cry again. After everything, after thinking she hated him, he managed to make her cry again.
Something built up inside of him; it felt like anger, but it couldn't be. He didn't want to cry anymore, he didn't want anyone to cry. "Rarity, listen to me." His voice felt sterner than usual, but it felt natural. "You didn't do a single thing wrong." She looked up at him, her big, beautiful blue eyes shining in the dim light of the candle resting on the table. "Spike, I-" It was his turn to cut her off, and he was taking full advantage of it. "I fell in love with you, not the other way around, and that means all the blame rests on me. You've been nothing but kind, patient, and generous by spending time with me, and I've repaid you poorly." He could feel more tears coming as he came to the realisation that this was likely the last conversation he was going to have with her, but he pushed onwards, forcing the words. "You're such an amazing mare, Rarity, and I never want you to cry because of me again." This was it. He was going to send her away, and that would be the end of his friendship with the mare he had loved for over a decade. "I won't bother you anym-" Once more, Spike was interrupted by Rarity, but this time it wasn't with words, but by a pair of lips. After a decade of longing, a decade of patience, a decade of pain, Spike shared his first kiss with the mare of his dreams.
As much as Spike wanted it to, the kiss couldn't last forever, and Rarity pulled away after a few seconds. "I'm sorry, Spike, but I have to go." The mare tried to stand up, but a strong claw took old of her hoof and kept her in place, and her eyes met with those of a pleading dragon. "Spike, I have a husband..." He gently ran the back of his hand down her cheek, smiling at her. His tail, on the other hoof, was slowly retrieving something from the pile of fabric. "Rarity," he began, deciding to make one last desperate grab at happiness, "all that exists right now is you and me." He slowly draped the pendant around her neck, and secured the clasp. There was a moment of silence, a tension in the air. Their eyes never parted; not until their lips met. The candle slowly burned out, and the events of that night of passion were forever cemented Spike's mind as the single greatest moments in his life.
"Looks like some sort of dragon." "Thanks, genius, I hadn't thought of that." "I was just sayin'..." The object of the dragon's interest had, evidently, been a photo album, and it seemed fitting that they knew their enemy as well as their enemy knew them: by image only. "If this is the dragon you were worried about, Tzarif, I think we're overqualified." Laughter broke out amongst the feasting reptiles, interrupted only by Tzarif himself calling out. "The colour's right, but he's bigger. Much bigger. How old is this damn thing?" "The age isn't important, but this is relevant information." Spike hadn't heard that voice before, it was presumably the spiky one. Yes, his description wasn't entirely comprehensive, but as the particular cyan creature hadn't opened its mouth before this exact moment, other than to eat, there weren't any defining features to him. "What do you mean?" "Well, look at it, the dragon's surrounded by ponies. This isn't just any dragon; it's defected." There were mutters, and obviously some theories were being formed, but Spike had other matters to deal with; namely the last page of his photo album. There was one more photograph, and he knew what it was before he turned the page.
The picture had all but faded away completely, but the image was engraved so deeply in Spike's mind that it appeared as though it was taken not a day before. Spike had taken it without permission, but the scene was far too lovely to ignore. Rarity laid asleep under the covers of the dragon's bed. Her mane was a mess, her makeup was practically gone, but she had never looked more beautiful.
Turning the flash off would probably have been a smarter move, but in Spike's haste to capture the moment, he hadn't really given it any consideration. Luckily, the mare remained asleep, and for that, Spike was grateful. It had been four months since that faithful night when their love affair had begun, and their weekly meetings had taken on an entirely new light.
Every week, usually around Tuesday, Rarity would leave Onyx with Auntie Sweetie Belle, who was very happy to spend so much time with her little niece, and then come to the library. Once she was inside, it was Spike's domain. Every romantic scenario that he had conjured up in his years of waiting came into play, and every week there was a different surprise awaiting her. One week it was a candlelit dinner, the next it was an exotic massage, which only a creature with claws could really do justice. How it ended was Rarity's decision, though. It varied from simple cuddling on the couch until she inevitably had to go home, to more passionate physical activities that the dragon preferred not to think of to avoid disappointment. Overall, Spike the dragon had nothing to complain about, he finally had the only thing he ever wanted...
...and yet...
There was always the niggling little guilt in the back of his head. After all, the beautiful mare asleep before him was another stallion's wife, and the mother to a foal that hung in the balance. But true love outweighed that, didn't it? This is how the world was supposed to work. Two ponies, or two creatures of varying species in this case, were meant for each other, and, through all adversary, they find each other and be together. Isn't that how the stories always went? There was usually another suitor to the fair lady, but he could never hold a candle to the hero, and he would step down. Rarity was his Princess, and he was her Knight in Shining Armour. They had to be together, right?
His thoughts were interrupted by his princess stirring from her eternal slumber, giving off one of the cutest yawns that Spike had ever heard. Her eyes slowly opened, finding his own immediately. A smile gently grew across her face as she stretched and yawned once more. "Hello, Spikey-Wikey. Sorry, I must've fallen asleep. What time is it?" "It's ten-thirty." "Oh, my, Thunderlane must be missing me, it's getting quite late." "No, ten-thirty in the morning, Rarity." Spike was smiling, but his mare certainly wasn't. Moving faster than he had ever seen her move, Rarity was out of the bed and in the bathroom. As their encounters usually altered her appearance in some way, Spike had seen to it that she had all of the cosmetics and mane care products she needed to give her the usual Rarity flare. Funnily enough, he didn't even need a list, he just knew.
"Don't worry too much about it, Rarity. I'm sure he hardly even noticed!" Spike said, leaning against the wall adjacent to the bathroom door. The reply was hardly what he expected. "Didn't notice?! Are you honestly suggesting that my husband didn't notice that his wife and his foal weren't at home for the entire night?! Don't be stupid, Spike!" It took a moment for him to recover from the surprisingly venomous tone that he'd never heard Rarity use before. She really was worried. So, with this in mind, Spike remained silent, and sat on his bed, waiting.
Eventually, Rarity emerged from the bathroom, and was immediately down the stairs and out the door, without even a goodbye. This was the most extreme case yet, but it wasn't unheard of for his love to be in a rush after they met. The nature of their meetings called for a certain degree of urgency and discreetness, and part of Spike missed the days when she would linger, talking about some sort of irrelevant tidbit that she found to be juicy.
With a sigh, the dragon stood from his bed and began his preparations for his weekly meeting with Twilight. Once again, he had fallen into the cycle of lying to his oldest friend about what was happening in his life, and even though she seemed suspicious, she was buying it. After that, he also had to start planning what he was going to do for the next week's meeting; he had a long way to go if he was going to top his last performance. However, whatever plans he made, they were pointless.
The first warning came when she arrived earlier than usual. In their time together, the pair had become methodical with their approach; they never strayed from schedule. Initially, Spike had been excited by the surprise, maybe she had taken some initiative to show how she felt for him, but her expression spoke more than his fantasies ever could. "Spike, we need to talk." Her voice was the second warning. It was uncommon for Rarity to ever be monotone, she was a very emotional pony. Also, the lack of his pet name was never a good sign; ever. When he sat on the couch, she instead opted to sit on the armchair, away from him. Another bad sign. "This is wrong, Spike. We both know it." It didn't feel wrong to him, nothing had ever felt so right. She was all he had, all he wanted to have, was it not the same to her? Even he knew it wasn't, but he wanted to think it anyway. "Thunderlane was worried sick, and Sweetie Belle has started to suspect something as well." It was coming. He knew it, she definitely knew it, and all he could do was wait as his heart shattered. "And, worst of all, this isn't fair to you." What? Was she really saying that? "You're such an amazing dragon, and it's terribly selfish of me to keep both you and Thunderlane for myself. You deserve so much more than this." He wanted to say something then; he wanted to beg for her to stay, he wanted to plead that she choose him, but he knew it was hopeless. "I love you." It was the first thing he said, and it was probably the only thing he would say. "I know, Spike, and I'm sorry." She kissed his forehead, and then she left. He couldn't remember if she was crying or not, but he definitely was. The fire ruby stared at him from its place on the coffee table; he really wished she had taken it with her.
"Spike, are you okay? You zoned out again." Twilight was concerned, not really a surprise. How was he going to lie to her this time? Did he go down to the seaside and find catch fish again? Or, perhaps, did he spend the afternoon watching the clouds and just enjoying himself in serenity? What brilliant deception would he conceive to hide his broken heart? "I've been having an affair with Rarity, and it ended yesterday." He had become caught on some of the words, but he managed to choke them out before the tears came. "I had her, Twilight, and then she was gone." Disgust. That's what Spike was expecting. It was a natural reaction for a pony to have, really, when they found out that their oldest friend had been fooling around with one of her married best friends. But, Twilight had never been one for stereotypes, and a pair of hooves were around the dragon before he knew what was going on. She didn't ask anymore questions, she didn't need any answers, she simply held him and let him cry on her shoulder. Maybe she was just happy that Spike had finally stopped lying to her, maybe she was contemplating whether or not to strangle him. Spike would've been fine with either.
"Come back to us, Spike." He could tell by her voice that she was crying as well, was it disappointment that caused those tears? "What do you mean?" He moved his head from her shoulder, giving his friend the attention she deserved. Twilight smiled, surprisingly, and continued. "You're always so distant, Spike. It's time for you to come back to your family, you don't need to be alone." A few years before, Spike had been looking for an escape route from his loneliness, and Twilight had simply opened the front door that the dragon had neglected to try. After an enthusiastic acceptance, and a lengthy embrace, accompanied by tears, of course, the decision was made.
It started small; just Twilight's family. Spike began to get to know Comet a bit better, and the two eventually grew to be far better friends than the dragon had ever imagined. When Twilight fell pregnant with her first foal, Spike was the first to know, and eventually became known as Uncle Spike. Then, by the second foal's announcement, the dragon had been reintroduced into the circle of friends; not just a photographer, but a participant. He would tell foals stories of their adventures, or simply tall tales that he made up, and they'd all be enthralled by his every word. He'd attend every event he was invited to, and enjoy every second. But, there was still one issue with his life, though. Rarity avoided him, naturally, and Thunderlane was growing more and more suspicious. There was only one conclusion to this matter, and it came on Onyx's sixth birthday.
Spike hadn't been invited to the party, for reasons that he wasn't allowed to discuss, but no one really thought much of it; no one except for Thunderlane. From what he had heard, the stallion had been very curious as to why Spike hadn't been invited, to which Rarity simply responded that he was busy, and the prodding finally built until it became an issue they had to discuss in another room. Twilight's details had been vague, but voices were apparently raised, and whatever was said led to Thunderlane storming out of his home and towards the library. The next part Spike had full awareness of.
The pegasus broke down his door, which was unlocked, and barrelled straight towards the librarian. Spike had initially been caught off guard and, as a result, was knocked against a bookshelf hard enough to dislodge the majority of its contents. The dragon hardly had time to recover before a hoof struck him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. With his opponent stunned, the angry stallion then took the chance to land a few punches to Spike's jaw. The most significant injury that occurred from this was part of Spike's cheek being impaled on one of his razor sharp teeth, causing his mouth to fill with blood, which was quickly emptied by another punch to his jaw. The beating continued until finally Thunderlane withdrew, leaving a battered, bleeding, broken dragon before him.
There was a metaphor there somewhere about the Prince slaying a dragon for the Princess, but Spike was in far too much pain to think of it. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear the stallion breathing heavily, presumably venting his anger. His voice was as deep as it was venomous. "Stay the hell away from my family, dragon. Don't let me ever see you near any of them." It was a fair enough request, given the situation, but Spike was not in a reasonable mood. Rarity had broken his heart almost six years ago, and even after all of that pain, Thunderlane had to come rub it in. No, he wouldn't let it stand. Slowly pushing himself up, Spike spoke through his bloody teeth, "I loved her first." The stallion was in the process of leaving, but that sentence turned him around. "What?" Spike spat out blood onto his floor, knowing full well that he would have to clean it later, and smiled. "I said... I loved her first, and chances are she felt something for me long before she met you. Hell, if I was a pony, I bet you would never have been in the picture." The dragon was on his feet now. On all fours, Thunderlane had been larger, but in the bipedal domain, Spike towered over him. "How does that feel?" The stallion was twitching in anger, and Spike knew what was coming next. If he had been in the right mind, he would never have even thought of doing what he was about to do, but all was fair in love and war, and he was pissed. Thunderlane dashed at him, letting out an angry cry, and Spike opened his jaws, bathing the stallion in flames. The second he saw the flames make contact, the librarian regretted it. Luckily, he hadn't hit the pegasus directly, he had been too quick, but Thunderlane's mane was set ablaze, and the stallion was letting out another cry entirely. He sprinted from the library, screaming and rolling on the ground, trying desperately to put out the flames, and Spike just stood there, surrounded by books and a few bloodstains. He had won the fight, but he had lost himself.
Thunderlane was admitted to the hospital with third degree burns, but he was alive. Twilight tried to make Spike himself go to be checked out, but there was no way in hell that he would appear in the same hospital as his burn victim. No, the dragon just sat in his armchair, staring at a scorch mark on the ground, and wishing he was dead. Eventually, Twilight had to go, and he was left alone. Spike slept in the armchair that night, he wouldn't move if he could help it. Maybe he'd get lucky and just starve to death.
After a few weeks of moping, Twilight convinced him to leave the house, and slowly his transition back into normality began. The cat was out of the bag, though, and it took quite some time before his friends, especially Applejack, warmed back up to him. In the end, they chalked it down to ponies doing stupid things when they're in love, and tried to move past it. But things were certainly different. When planning events, it became a choice. If Spike was invited, Rarity and Thunderlane could not attend, and visa versa. Spike usually volunteered to miss out, and they were usually grateful for not having to choose. It wasn't an ideal existence, but it was an existence nonetheless. He would still tell stories to the fillies and colts that came to visit him at the library, and he would still take his share of photographs. But, one visit made his day more than anything else, and it came on a windy Autumn afternoon.
The door to the library opened with a trademark ring. After having the door repaired, Spike had opted to install a bell. It wasn't often he got visitors, so he damn well didn't want to miss it. The dragon was in the kitchen at the time, retrieving a batch of freshly baked cookies, but the second that ring hit his ear, he was off, tray in hand. "Hello, welcome to the li-" The tray hit the ground with a clang, and a few cookies scattered here and there. A colt's laughter filled the silence, and the colt in question pointed to the tray. "Why did you do that, Mr. Dragon? Now the cookies are all over the place!" A snow white coat, pegasus wings, and a lavender mane were notable qualities of the child, but none were more obvious than his sapphire blue eyes. Then again, Spike wasn't really paying attention to the colt, but to the mother. She had begun to age a bit, a small wrinkle here and there, but she was still radiant as the day he met her. "Hello, Spike." "Hello, Rarity." He hadn't spoken to her in five years.
Once the colt had set to playing with the library's collection of miscellaneous toys, the two old friends sat down in their old places, and had a long overdue conversation. It started off with small talk, the weather, business, this and that, and slowly began to evolve into a discussion about their friends and the events that each one had missed for the sake of the other. It wasn't much, but it was progress. It was enough of a development that Spike asked her if she'd like to meet again, and with a smile, she replied, "I'd like that."
Their meetings resumed as they were before all of the unpleasantness. Snow would play, they'd have a nice cup of tea, and they'd talk. They even got to the point where they could talk about their past without issue. Spike even went so far as to inquire about Thunderlane's health; apparently there had been some scarring, but overall he made a full recovery. The more time he spent with her, the more Spike realised that his feelings hadn't changed. Time truly couldn't wear his love for the mare, and he had no intention to let it. He had learned his lesson about going too far, and he wasn't going to lose contact with her again. At one point she apologised profusely for how things went down, about how she hurt him, but he would never let her blame herself. Even if she couldn't see it, he wouldn't have traded that time for the world. For four short months, he held her, he kissed her, and he was able to show her how he felt about her.
Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and eventually all good things had to come to an end. No one knew about their meetings, no one except for Snow, Spike and Rarity. Even after decades, it was Ponyville's best kept secret. Following Fluttershy's funeral, Spike had let Rarity cry into his shoulder once more. When Rainbow Dash took that last flight, Spike had assured Rarity that it was all going to be okay. After Pinkie Pie's funeral, the two spent hours remembering her best moments and laughing until they cried. Everything was so easy with each other, like there was no problem too big for them to conquer. But, some things were too big even for a dragon to handle.
Snow arrived at Spike's door instead of his mother one day, carrying a note. The note was, of course, written by Rarity, and the sight of her usual handwriting brought a warmth to Spike's heart. It told him that she was too tired to get out of bed that day, and that she apologised greatly. He would've killed to see the look on her face when Snow came back with the fire ruby and a note which read, No hard feelings, Miss Rarity. We really must talk more often, I fear we're losing touch! -Much love, Spike. Notes were then passed back and forth daily basis, and continued for weeks. It seemed that Snow was taking full time care of his mother, and that she saw her conversations with Spike as a high priority, that also caused the dragon to grin like some sort of schoolcolt passing notes in class.
Finally, after four weeks, three days, and four hours, Spike received a note telling him that his love had been moved to the hospital. As much as it tore him up inside, he couldn't visit her. Thunderlane would've been there for sure, and as much as he loved Rarity, he knew that she needed her husband more than she needed him. She would be out of hospital soon enough, anyway, and then they'd have one of their weekly meetings, just like they always did. Rarity was a fighter, she wasn't going down for at least another decade.
By the time Spike had reached the hospital, she was already gone. Snow was there to greet him, carrying the fire ruby and one last note. Once the dragon had read it, he collapsed onto his knees and wept. He had cried when Fluttershy died, he had sobbed when Rainbow Dash passed away, he had bawled when Pinkie Pie departed the world, but never had he wept like he did at that moment. He wanted to see her, but Thunderlane hadn't left her side; Spike may have been heartbroken, but he wasn't heartless. Thunderlane had loved her too, and he needed his time to mourn.
The funeral was short, but extravagant. There were flowers lining every inch of her grave, and every colour was coordinated to a finely styled tee. Thunderlane had specifically requested that Spike didn't attend, but Snow had overruled his father, insisting that it's what Rarity would've wanted. Throughout the service, he felt the stallion's eyes on him, glaring with pure hatred. He had every right to hate him; Spike would've hated whoever robbed him of a single moment with the most amazing mare in the world. The tombstone was dictated by the template, of course, and read, Here lies Rarity. The Element of Generosity. Wife, Mother, Friend, and Revolutionary Fashionista." Spike lingered at the grave long after everyone else had gone home. The fire ruby dangled from its gold chain, and the note flapped in the breeze. It was completely silent, yet he was still expecting to hear her say something, anything. He wanted to hear 'Spikey-Wikey' one more time, or to hear the most beautiful laugh in the world again. But, nothing came. His love was no more.
Tears left stains on the blank pages of the photo album; Spike had evidently tried to keep turning the page after there were no more photos left. A scraping sound caught his attention, and his eyes quickly darted to a claw that was grasping a cluster of jewels right by his head. The time had come, and he remembered exactly why he was there. The gems were devoured without the slightest thought, and Spike was partly visible. "What the-" The voice, and the claw, belonged to the pudgy dragon, presumably called Kespix, and the dragon wasn't allowed to say anything else. Spike's humungous claw darted out, gripping the smaller reptile by the head, and slammed Kespix's cranium into the cave floor. A satisfying tremor shook Spike's arm, and a crack echoed through the empty space; he could also feel blood in his claw. One down.
Tzarif gave out a surprised cry, and darted from the cave. Once a runner, always a runner. The other dragons were far more courageous. Thinking they had a position advantage, they surrounded the hoard, ready to take on the threat. Through his single eye hole, Spike weighed his odds. They were out of claw's reach, but there was always the chance he could extend just a little bit further and take them by surprise. Five dragons surrounded him; one was dead on the ground, and Tzarif had fled. Five on one wasn't ideal, but it wasn't impossible. All it took was the right focus.
There was a thick tension in the air, and all of the dragons felt it. The five didn't want to step closer in fear of being grabbed, and Spike wasn't budging. It was a stalemate, and it just took one move to upset the balance. But, Spike was used to waiting, and patience was growing to be one of his better traits. His eye focused in on the largest of the dragons. He was a musclebound bastard, and looked as though he knew what to do with it. Although, his head was unusually small, and his zoned out expression served to confirm Spike's suspicion. He was a powerhouse without a brain, and he was staring directly at the green dragon, hoping for some sort of order. He was getting restless, and it was just a matter of time before he messed up. The dragon began hopping from foot to foot, his eyes darting around the room, and his breathing becoming heavier, whenever his eyes reached the green dragon, he tried to mouth some sort of question, but it went unheard. One foot went too far in the hop, and he slid towards the hoard, this was when Spike struck.
Both claws emerged from the hoard, one knocking the dragon off of his feet, and the other pinning and dragging him towards his doom. The lean, quick looking dragon tried to move towards his companion, but was stopped by the green one. Ruthless; Spike wasn't sure if that was intimidating or admirable. The muscular dragon struggled, and proved his muscle wasn't just for show. He broke free of Spike's grip, only to be pinned by the other claw, like a mouse trying to escape from a cat. Unfortunately for him, he was in a position that he wouldn't recover from, and Spike's claw opened his throat as soon as it was possible. Two down.
Spike sincerely doubted he would be able to get the other four using the same method, so he considered his options. The green one was patient, as he was, but unlike Spike, he had those he found expendable that he could throw at the larger dragon until he was weak enough for the kill. Spike only had himself, and he wasn't willing to sacrifice that just yet, not if he could help it. Among the four, there was the green one, the spiky one, the quick looking one, and one more who looked like some sort of amalgamation between a puffer fish and an active volcano. There was little chance that he could surprise the green one, no, he was too clever for that, but the quick one was likely unnerved by losing his friend. That would be his target. He had to make his move, and the countdown began.
Ten.
Dear Spike,
Nine.
I know that it's been a rough journey with you and I,
Eight.
but I want you to know that I wouldn't have traded our time together for the world.
Seven.
Since you were that adorable little dragon who followed me around Ponyville, to the true drake you've become,
Six.
I've always felt drawn to you, and it seems you were the same. We're kindred, you and I, and it's taken me all this time to figure it out.
Five.
When you were sixteen, you gave me an opportunity that I wish I had taken.
Four.
I know, it's dreadfully selfish of me to think that, but I really do wonder sometimes how different it would've been if I'd have given you that chance.
Three.
Oh, here I go, rambling like the old mare I am. I'm leaving you this ruby so you can go out and do something great with it.
Two.
I don't think anypony has come close to making me as happy as you did, and that's me being terribly honest. You're special, Spikey-Wikey.
One.
Maybe in another life, I'd be special enough to have you. I love you too, Spike. I did then, and I do now. I'm sorry for not saying it at a better time.
Zero.
I probably won't see you before the end, but I just wanted you to know it. Live a life, Spike. Have a family. Find your perfect treasure, and guard it like the dragon you are. Just don't let them change my perfect little Spikey-Wikey.
Spike dashed out, much to the surprise of three of the four dragons. The quick looking dragon was apparently not as quick as the guardian thought, and he was crushed beneath his colossal weight in a matter of seconds. The pufferfish took a deep breath, the spiky one took a defensive position, and the green one just stood there, watching Spike without a hint of emotion. Thinking fast, Spike grabbed Kespix's corpse and slammed it into the spikey dragon. He was grateful he himself didn't touch him, because the pudgy dragon's body sunk against the spikes like a hot knife through butter. The pufferfish exhaled, spewing a vile smelling green liquid at Spike, but, luckily enough, there happened to be a fat, spiky meat shield handy, and the sharp dragon screamed as the liquid seared his flesh. The screams likely would've continued if he hadn't been crushed against the pufferfish, who was stuck between a wall and a razor sharp place. Four down.
Spike growled, turning towards the green dragon who had just been standing there, still as a rock. What was he planning? Was he truly that powerful that he didn't even seem concerned by the larger dragon's presence? "You are Spike, correct?" The use of his name was surprising. It was strange, no one had said it in so long, it almost seemed like an entirely different language. A nod was the green dragon's only reply. "You've been here for how long?" Spike cleared his throat, keeping a close eye on the other dragon. "I have been here for seven hundred and twenty-nine years." Once again, there was little reaction from the dragon, just a simple nod of acknowledgement. "Impressive." "What?" "The way you dealt with the others. It was impressive." Spike wasn't entirely used to being called 'impressive', certainly not by dragons. "Aren't you going to fight me?" "Why bother?" "What?" "The second I saw your claw, I knew we weren't going to win this fight. Why bother fighting fate?" The green dragon confused him, and irritated him. The defeatist attitude was certainly not matching the personality that Spike had so painstakingly constructed for the apparent leader of his killers. "Tzarif is most likely going to warn the roost, you may want to catch him." Suddenly, there was a real threat, and Spike wasn't going to let it get away. With nothing more to say to the green dragon, and no real reason to kill him, Spike was off.
Tzarif was nowhere to be seen, but Spike had a fairly good indication of what direction he was headed in. The peak of a distant mountain signalled the location of the roost, or at least that's what Celestia had told him when he first started guarding Ponyville. That particular mountain was speeding closer and closer to Spike, and his destiny was finally going to come true. If he couldn't do anything else, he would at least try to talk to them. Maybe, even after everything that happened, he could broker a truce between the dragons and Ponyville. Maybe he could save everyone. The mountain was suddenly underneath him, and the roost came into view. What he saw both stunned and scared him.
Empty.
The roost was empty. Not a dragon in sight. All there was were empty nests, still surrounded by various hoards and communal gem piles, but no living creatures were there. Spike slowly made his descent, wary of a trap, but there was none. Tzarif had warned the roost, and they had fled from the monstrous dragon that had come to destroy them all. He was the creature that mothers told their hatchlings to fear, the monster under their bed.
Much Much love, Rarity~
When he arrived back at his cave, the green dragon, and the corpses, were gone. Spike inspected his pitifully sized hoard and found that all of his albums, journals, and the fire ruby were accounted for. He wasn't sure what to do next, honestly. His scales were covered with blood and dirt, his mind was swimming with a mixture of old memories and new traumas, and his body was exhausted to the point of passing out from hunger. He scooped a few gems into his titanic jaws and decided that he only had one course of action left. He picked up his quill, and the most recent journal, and began to write.
Zero days since the last dragon encounter. Two hundred and five thousand, eight hundred and seventy-eight days since the last visit by Princess Celestia.
He stopped writing there, and he knew what he was going to do. A smile grew across his face, tears pooled in his eyes, and he tore a page out of his journal. He was done. He was finally done. After over seven centuries, he had done it. The roost was gone, and that meant he could go home. Really go home. Ponyville was safe, and he just needed to tell the Princess. Surely, that was it. Without a moment's hesitation, he began to write the words he had written thousands of times before, and it had never felt better.
Dear Princess Celestia, It's been quite some time. I know we didn't part on the best of circumstances, and I've regretted it ever since that I disappointed the only friend I have left in this world. I know you don't approve of what I've done, but I have amazing news. The roost is empty! The dragons all fled! Ponyville is at risk no longer, and we can finally rest with sound minds.
He took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes before he began to write the next part.
I know this is a lot to ask, and I know it's a difficult thing, but I was wondering if maybe I could come out of hiding? It might come as a bit of a shock to Ponyville, but I really think it's possible that I can be part of the town again, even as a visiting member. I know you don't owe me anything, and I chose to do this on my own accord, but if you authorise and aid my reintroduction to the ponies of Ponyville, I would be eternally grateful. I'm asking you, no, begging you to give me this, Princess. All I want now that this is over is to be able to tell my friends' stories and visit their graves again. Surely you can see the purpose in that.
Once again, I beg your forgiveness for our past conflicts, and for my vile actions, and I pray that you look past it all, and see the idealistic dragon you saw hatch who just wants to be a part of something again.
I hope you consider it.
Your Loyal Guardian, Spike the Dragon.
With a single breath, the note was gone, and all he could do was await a reply. He didn't sleep that night, he just stared at the ruby as he moved it between his claws. He wondered what Rarity would've said if she saw him now. Did they change her little Spikey-Wikey? Or did his actions not define him? He gave a sigh and rested his head atop the jewel. He wouldn't mind if she hated him if he could just see her again. "I love you, Rarity." He said to no one in particular. He felt the need to say it if he was going to remember what she said in the note, otherwise it didn't make as much sense.
I love you too, Spike. I did then, and I do now.
He closed his eyes, and he let the tears flow freely. Time was the great healer, apparently, but it seemed to have skipped him over entirely. Would he ever be reunited with her? If there was an afterlife, did ponies and dragons have different ones? Even if they did, he highly doubted he'd go where she was with all of the things he had done. A kinslayer, a traitor, a monster. Of course Celestia wouldn't let scum like him walk back into Ponyville. He was worse than what she sent him to protect the town against.
...and yet...
A distantly familiar tingle filled Spike's jaw, and with a belch, a scroll appeared before him. With the most anxious and delicate movements, he unravelled the tiny piece of parchment and began to read: Spike, come to the clearing where we last met at sunset tomorrow.
Princess Celestia.
Spike barely had the time to process the information before another tingle overwhelmed him, and another scroll came.
I'm so sorry.
Princess Celestia.
Tears drenched the paper, but he wasn't sure why he was crying. Was it joy that he was going to see Ponyville again? Was it relief that she didn't refuse him? Was it just that he was overwhelmed by the fact that Celestia was basically forgiving him for everything? Whatever it was, Spike cried, and cried, and cried. He held the ruby close against his chest, rolled onto his back, and began to laugh as tears continued to roll down his cheeks.
It was done. He was finished.
He would need to find a lot of roses, he owed somepony a lot of them.
Spike the dragon fell asleep on his back, smiling the biggest smile he'd had in over half a millennium. Sunset couldn't come quick enough.
It rained last night. Not to say that was an uncommon occurrence in the life of Spike the Dragon, but he felt it was a notable event when taken in the grand scheme of things. There weren't going to be a great deal of notable events anymore, not now that it was finally coming to an end. Over seven centuries of loneliness were about to end, and the drake could just about taste it.
The more literal taste on his tongue was that of topaz. The dearly departed dragons whom Spike had dispatched the previous day had all about cleared out his hoard of any particularly rare and delectable gems, leaving only the common, bland ones. But, on this particular day, nothing had even tasted as sweet. But, breakfast was the least of his concerns at this stage in his life. It was the dawn, literally, of a new era, and he would be damned if he wasn't going to spare any expense in making it memorable.
After much searching, and some much need organisation, the ornate rug was recovered from the pile of gems, and a new task befell the dragon. He would have to somehow manage to clean the stupid thing. After centuries of no use, it had been in better condition, but it was better than sitting on the grass, he supposed, and there was certainly a lot he and Celestia would need to talk about before his reintegration into the lives of Ponyville's citizens. With the rug in his claw, and a song in his heart, Spike took his first trip to the clearing.
The clearing had once been a place of dread for Spike, and rightfully so. Below the soil of this spot laid the corpses of countless dragons, all of which were murdered by the drake who so happily strode around the grass now. But, that was in the past, and he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on it on such a momentous occasion.
The river sparkled just that little bit brighter on that day than it had any other, and that could be nothing but a good omen. Sure, he made it slightly dirtier the moment he started washing the rug, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for a moment of joy. As he dipped the fabric into the crystal clear waters, the dragon was especially careful not to tear it. It only really just occurred to him that the object he held in his claws was well over half a millennia old. But, then again, so was the dragon holding it, and he seemed to be in pretty good shape. With the rug left to dry in the early morning sun, Spike made his second trip to the cave, this time with different cargo in mind.
It had taken the better part of two hours, but the drake had finally done it. His hoard was no longer one big pile of miscellaneous knickknacks and gems; it was now four different stacks entirely. One pile was dedicated solely to gems, which, now that he was being honest with himself, probably needed to be organised into their own individual piles with relation to taste, value, and the like. Secondly, there was the bits and gold, though he was rather confused about where he got so much of the damn stuff. It didn't have any particular flavour, and he didn't really need money for anything, but it was nice to know he'd have something to give the citizens of Ponyville when he got there. He was giddy just thinking about it. The third and fourth piles were those that he treasured the most: his journals and albums. It was a rather impressive pile, if he did so himself. Sure, half of his journals contained only records, but he could accompany each record with a story if he were asked; one of the perks of having the memory of a librarian.
A warm smile spread across the reptile's maw as the image of that old tree sprung into his mind. He could only imagine what new literature had sprung up over the past centuries, and he had nothing but time to read every single one of them. Maybe he'd write a few of his own, he certainly had plenty of material, and a keen writing claw to match it. The only problem would be getting used to writing with such a tiny quill again. Those feathers could be fragile, and as gentle as he may try to be, Spike was still a dragon. He'd most likely have to stick to telling verbal accounts of his life, rather than- Oh, wait, that was the solution! He could get somepony to dictate for him. That would certainly be a strange feeling, after he had spent the happiest years of his life as a scribe for somepony else. Tangents aside, the dragon scooped up pile two in one claw, and piles three and four in the other, and took to the sky. He'd come back for the others afterwards.
The rug was dry, so Spike set it down gently on the grass and placed a few rather large gems around the edges to avoid it blowing away if a sudden gust of wind caught it. With the scene set, and everything he needed already there, all that was left to do was wait. The sun hung high in the sky, so it couldn't be any later than noon; he still had quite some time to wait.
A quick inspection of his forearm proved quite conclusively that he was overdue for a bath, and on such a lovely day, what could be better? The only thing that stopped Spike from just jumping into the water was the fear that any sort of splash would ruin the rug. Oh, and the fact it wasn't nearly deep enough, or wide enough, to hold the dragon. So, it stood to reason that there was only much he could do to rid himself of the grime. Caked on blood was easily removed with claws, dirt was simply rinsed away, and, apart from a few scars here and there, he felt like a new dragon.
No, he didn't feel like a new dragon. In fact, he felt like an old one, a very old one, and that was the furthest thing from bad he could think of. He felt like that little baby dragon once more, packing his bags and preparing for he and Twilight Sparkle's departure to their new home of Ponyville. What awaited him upon arrival? Would he make lots of new friends? Would he go on countless adventures? Would he maybe fall in love? A snicker escaped the dragon's lips as he gazed down at the shining fire ruby, fresh out of the river. What he wouldn't give to go back and do it all again.
Every moment of elation, every snippet of laughter, and even every sustained torment of heartache. He would do it all again, just to hold her in his arms that one last time, to kiss her lips for that one second longer, and to spend those afternoons just talking the hours away. She was his perfect treasure, in life and in death, and he owed her so many roses. "We'll start again when I arrive," he said to no one in particular. "Summer Sun celebration can't be too far away. We'll make a date of it." A wide grin formed, or maybe it just never left, and Spike let his imagination come alive.
He could see it all as clear as the snout on his face. Ponyville was decorated from the the tallest branch to the lowest stoop, and merriment was in the air. As the dragon walked through those crowded streets, he was greeted on all sides by friendly faces, and not a single one paid the young drake any mind. It didn't matter though, he had his sights set so much higher. "Hello, Spike." Twilight greeted him as he walked past his beloved caretaker, who was currently occupied levitating a piece of ribbon into its proper place for Rainbow Dash to hammer it into place. "Hey, Spike." The pegasus' tone certainly showed her level of concentration on the task at hoof, as she really only noticed the dragon's presence from Twilight mentioning it. He greeted them each in turn, but his sights were set higher still.
Carousel Boutique's doors announced Spike's arrival with a pleasant chime, and the mare behind the counter greeted him with a smile that could put the sparkle of a diamond to shame. No words were spoken between the pair, but so much was said in just the look they gave one another. Slowly, but surely, he made his way to her, and she met him halfway. Their eyes never lost sight of each other, not until they closed in preparation for their lips to meet. Rarity's lips were a lot colder and harder than he remembered, but it was the thought that counted, right? No, wait, something was definitely wrong. She seemed to still be enjoying herself, so it wouldn't hurt if he just cracked his eyes a little bit to see what was going on.
Spike couldn't stop himself from laughing upon seeing that he was in the process of kissing the fire ruby, and not a small laugh, either, no, the dragon was laughing deep and hard, tears welling up in his eyes. Crying wasn't something he would call an uncommon occurrence, but this time it felt like a momentous occasion. The colossal reptile rolled onto his back in a matter that more resembled a lapdog, and laughed until his lungs could laugh no longer. Out of breath and red in the face, Spike just allowed himself a few moments to stare at the clouds; he hadn't done it in decades, and he couldn't for the sake of him remember why.
"That one looks like candy!" He heard Pinkie Pie exclaim, her hoof waving wildly at a cloud just to the right of his head. To be fair, it did look entirely like a piece of candy, if that candy was a jawbreaker. "Pinkie," Twilight began, "you think every cloud looks like candy." "Yep!" Laughter rang out between the six mares, but the dragon remained silent, simply looking at his beloved friends with a smile plastered across his face. He was still recovering from the previous laughter, anyway. No, Spike was content to just enjoy their company. Wait, what was that? Had nopony noticed that one yet? It was finally his time to shine, and he wasn't going to let it slip through his claws. His arm shot out, his finger following soon after as he pointed towards a cloud in the dead centre of his sight. "Hey, that one looks like a rabbit!" The mares all went silent for a few moments, probably examining the cloud for themselves, and Spike awaited a response. It was then that he remembered where he was, and another chuckle escaped his lips. He was alone in that clearing, but not for long. These were his finally hours of loneliness.
The sun hung low in the sky, it wouldn't be long before it kissed the horizon and welcomed the night, ushering in Spike the Dragon's new beginning. A smile rested on his titanic jaws that once cracked bones, and it wouldn't be departing anytime soon. For the first time in centuries, it felt natural to smile, like he truly was that young drake from Ponyville, awaiting a day of excitement and fun. Celestia couldn't be far now, and just seeing her face again was just going to make a grand day grander. Fully prepared, brimming with excitement and anticipation, and out of breath from his merriment, Spike rested his head in his claws, and watched the sunset.
Right on schedule, Celestia's form appeared over the horizon, accompanied by the gorgeous glow of a full moon. Everything had just aligned perfectly for the dragon of the hour, it would seem, and Spike certainly wasn't complaining. The years may have not been kind to him, but the Princess remained untouched by the crude hooves of time. She looked just as the day he was hatched, and even a being of his size couldn't help but feel small in wake of her pure majesty. As she neared, Spike, for the first time in decades, stood on two feet, and bowed. He must've looked rather ridiculous doing so, sort of like a dog when they did that party trick, but it was the only way he really knew how to bow. "Princess," Spike began, trying his best to keep from crying on such a happy day, "it's been way too long."
Spike fell back onto four legs, tears beginning to fall from his eyes, and a smile so wide painted across his face that his cheeks actually hurt. Celestia, on the other claw, looked like nothing at all. Her face was blank, as though she was looking at a stranger. Well, Spike would just have to change that, wouldn't he? He may have screwed up their last meeting, but he was ready to prove to her that he was Ponyville appropriate, and that the little drake she remembered was still inside this giant slab of a body.
First thing was first, Celestia needed to be comfortable! With one massive claw, Spike gestured towards the rug, motioning her over. The alicorn, however, made no signs of budging, her eyes just following his claw, flinching the slightest bit whenever it made any sudden movements. So, some bridges still had to be extinguished and rebuilt. That was fair enough. If she was afraid of the claw, the claw would just have to prove itself trustworthy. With one fluid motion, one of Spike's claws reached for the rug, gently moving it from under the gems keeping it down, and over to where Celestia was once standing. The reason this was possible was all thanks to his other claw, which scooped his guest up while she was focused entirely on the first claw. Deceptive, yes, but he was verydelicate, and the alicorn was placed down on the rug without a single bump or scratch. Celestia's initial reaction was, understandably, to panic, but the worry in her eyes vanished as soon as her hooves touched the smooth, well cleaned fabric of the rug. Or, at least, that's what Spike assumed the fabric was like; he did a pretty good job of cleaning it, if he said so himself.
Now that she was comfortable, the next step was for the dragon to prove that he was the same as he always was, and what better way to do that than with a walk down memory lane? Reaching towards the pile of albums, Spike grabbed a particularly juicy little book that covered the time period between Twilight's pregnancy, and her foal's wedding. Obviously, the quickest way to Celestia's heart would be through her student, right? Spike may have aged, but he was still that clever little drake who knew how to get what he wanted. Opening the book to the fourth page, which contained the picture of Spike holding Twilight's little treasure, Orion, in his claws not too long after the birth. The colt was fast asleep, and Spike had the biggest grin on his face. Well, it wasn't the biggest, but it was pretty big. The grin currently on his face definitely beat it, though, maybe just by size alone. "Do you remember Orion? I just found this album in my hoard, and I just couldn't stop thinking about how much mayhem that little guy caused! Remember when he and Twilight visited you in Canterlot, and he locked your guards in the dungeon when they tried to catch him? I swear, I couldn't stop laughing!" Spike's laughter echoed through the night, but it seemed the princess wasn't in the mood to join him in the merriment. Her eyes glanced over the page, but her enthusiasm just wasn't there.
It was then that it struck him. What was he thinking?! Here he was trying to cheer up the Princess, and what does he do? Shows her pictures of ponies she loved who are now long dead. That was a terrible way to cheer up anypony! Placing the book back in the pile, Spike reconsidered his entire strategy. The fire ruby's golden chain jingled slightly in his claw as he toyed with it, and that seemed to catch the Princess' attention as well. She really was acting rather like a foal at this stage. She could at least say 'hi'. Well, if she wasn't going to do the talking, Spike would just have to carry the conversation all by himself, and he knew just where to take it. He turned to the alicorn with a great, big smile on his face, and he began to speak. "So, about Ponyville..." He had to be extremely smooth with this whole thing, otherwise his chances might be in trouble. Luckily, he had recently come to the realisation that he was Spike the Dragon, and charm was his middle name. Actually, no, 'Spike Charm Dragon' sounded a little lame.
"I was thinking that you should go there first, and let them know what's going on. That way they don't have this gigantic dragon just dropping by and saying he belongs. That'd be a bit weird, right?" He could hardly contain his excitement now, it was really going to happen. "I could start by showing them a few albums, you know, like a public gallery of my photos! They'll like that, right? Photos are still cool?" Spike was practically jumping for joy now, and by 'practically' he meant literally. The earth shook under the dragon's titanic weight every time he hit the ground, but he didn't care. "And then I'll trace back their family trees and find all of them! I'll find Orion's part, Snow's part, I'll make sure not to miss a single pony!" Despite the tremors beneath her, Celestia still didn't shift an inch, her eyes were merely locked on the sky, probably at her sister's moon. Made sense, he supposed, Luna was banished for a thousand years, and his 'banishment' was almost that long. Luna still beat him by a few centuries, though. He'd have to laugh about that with her later. "I can't wait to tell them all about my valiant wooing of the Lady Rarity, or the time I saved the Crystal Empire, or even that time I tried to be Applejack's ser-"
Spike's stomach hit the ground at surprising force, his legs splayed out beside him. Upon closer inspection, and after a few moments of recovering from being winded, the dragon noticed that his limbs were locked in place by a yellow magic field, that of Celestia. With a chuckle, he looked back to his guest, who had obviously gotten quite sick of the jumping. "Okay, Celestia," Spike began, the smile returning to his face, "I get it. No more jumping, right?" But the magic didn't disperse, and he still couldn't move. Celestia, finally, looked back at the dragon, and her blank expression was replaced with a frown, tears streaming down her face. The alicorn was shaking, but her magic remained strong. When she spoke, her words shook with her. "I'm sorry, Spike. I am so sorry." The image of the letter Spike received from her came to mind, the word 'sorry' standing out far more prominently than before. The smile that had been so contently resting on the dragon's lips faded, and his reply came in almost a whisper, "Sorry about what?..."
It was then that the sound came to him: leathery wings clawing at the sky. Lacking the finesse of a pegasus' feathers, or the buzzing repetition of a changeling, a dragon was soaring from above. But, it wasn't just one dragon, no, the sound was too intense for that. He knew he should've looked up, but his eyes couldn't leave those of his only friend in the world. Even though he could hear the roars of his oncoming attackers, the gentle whimper of the alicorn blared in his head like nails on a chalkboard. He didn't want her to cry; he didn't want to make anyone cry. He thought he already made that clear all those years ago.
When the first set of claws dug into his back, the dragon was convinced that he had never felt such pain before, but that was before that set was joined by many others, some accompanied by fangs. He felt warm blood splash against him, heard vicious predators lick their lips and go back for more. Spike struggled in desperation against his bonds, but found that the alicorn's magic was far too strong for even him to fight. He let out a scream, unlike one he had ever made before. It wasn't reminiscent of the screams of his childhood, when some minor peril spiralled his way, and it wasn't similar to the screams of anguish he had released when his friends departed him, it was bloodcurdling, it was the cry of prey left helpless at the claws of its predator. It was the scream of a dying dragon.
The once strong guardian of Ponyville's jaws clasped shut, being held by another bright yellow field of magic. His scream was replaced by a muffled wail, tears stinging at his eyes before falling unrestrained. A thousand blades were cutting into him, but he could do nothing but bear it. This resistance was, however, challenged when a sound shook through his body. It was a wet, drawn out, tearing sound, finished finally by a sickening pop that sent a shockwave through the bound dragon. His muzzle strained against the bonds with such intensity that he swore his jaw would dislocate. Spike the dragon had just lost a wing, and the pain was indescribable.
The severed wing fell beside Spike with an anticlimactic thud, almost as though it held no weight, and the pitter-patter of droplets of his blood were welcomed into the ever-growing crimson pool below the guardian. Once purple scales now shone a gristly red in the newly born moonlight, though Spike was unable to see it. He was close to passing out, to just leaving himself to the dragon's devices, every blink of his tear-filled eyes brought another hazy vision of fantasy before crashing him back to reality. One moment he saw himself standing by Applejack's side as he watched the timberwolves fleeing in terror, and the next he saw himself lying face down in the mud as the wolves enjoyed their meal. Fate had never been kind to Ponyville's black sheep, but did he deserve this? Is this what it all led up to? Spike felt a thousand blades retract from his back, and heard the sound of the dragons' wings, a swarm leaving their prey to gather in a group around him. The suddenness of it shook him. Had Celestia stopped them? Was the purpose of their attack just to cripple him to ensure he would stop his pursuit of them? He was bleeding badly, his back screamed in pain, but Spike the dragon allowed himself to feel hope for his life, just the tiniest bit. That hope was dashed against the rocks when claw slashed across his snout, eliciting a muffled cry from the bound dragon as blood dripped from the newly created wound.
"Do you remember me, Spike?" The voice belonged to the green dragon from earlier, but Spike didn't want to acknowledge it. He kept his eyes clenched shut, shaking as much as the bonds allowed him to. He was scared, just a scared baby dragon wanting to go home. "Look at me!" Another swipe of a claw, another wound, and more blood. Spike was so sick of seeing blood, but he opened his eyes anyway, meeting those of his aggressor. "There you go," he began, a sickeningly pleased grin spread across his maw, "isn't it better now that we can see each other?" Spike's eyes immediately darted to Celestia, pleading for mercy. The Princess was, however, not capable of giving it to him. The alicorn was trembling, tears falling from her tightly shut eyes, her horn glowed, but it was the only part of her that seemed in any way radiant as a princess should be. Spike was sorry for that. The claw once again caught Spike, forcing him to turn back to the dragon tormenting him. "I said look at me, and I meant it."
Spike gave no reply, he wasn't able to, and even if he could, he doubted he had the strength. He felt the crimson liquid under him; its slight heat unsettled him to say the least. The taste invaded his mouth, a few droplets making the journey from his snout to his gritted teeth. The image came to him of a young dragon fighting his first battle; of powerful jaws that could tear through flesh and shatter bones. This image was followed of a dragon, younger still, who placed his lips against those of a mare for the first time as time seemed to fail around them. Both visions ended abruptly when his head was forcibly jerked to look at his pile of albums and journals. "You've been a busy boy, haven't you?" The dragon's condescending tone would've inspired a witty response in Spike's younger days, but in the current situation, it only further ignited the panic that was raging in his gut. "All those memories, all the hours spent writing." Spike's heart was racing, a deeper fear growing in him that far outweighed that for his own life. The dragon stooped down low, whispering harshly, "What about all the memories of those dragons you killed?" Suddenly, the night was lit up, orange flames engulfing the pile. Spike's heart shattered in his chest.
A young dragon stood behind a camera, staring at six smiling mares. With a newly practised precision, he lined up his shot, and his claw hit the button. The flash went off, and slowly, the mares were taken by the flame. One by one, each memory was going to be absorbed into the inferno, and all Spike could do was watch. He wanted to cry, but he was out of tears. He wanted to break free and save them, but he was trapped. He wanted to plead for his life, but was it even worth living? Not one to give Spike time to recover, the green drake turned Spike back away from the burning heap and forced him to look at him. He still looked eerily pleased with himself, and Spike had nothing but hatred for him. A low growl filled the larger drake's throat, the only sound he could successfully make. "You get what you deserve, Spike. You should know that by now." There was no malice in his voice, nor was there any emotion of any sort. It was sort of like the way a teacher would speak to the pupil they'd long given up on, but were under contractual obligation to teach. Twilight had used that tone very often.
Twilight Sparkle smiled softly, a newborn foal cradled safely in her hooves. It had been months in the making, months of suffering and pregnancy cravings, and mood sings, and dragged on thoughts that went nowhere due to the stress of having a pony growing inside of her, but it was all worth it. Spike smiled from his place behind the camera, and the flash went off. This scene was too swallowed by the fire, lost to the ages. He missed her.
There was a sudden tug at his claw, and Spike's grip had never tightened more. His eyes darted quickly to the source of the tugging and found a green hand, a golden chain clenched between its talons. For a moment their eyes met once more, and there was a ferocity to Spike's gaze that he'd never experienced before. He growled again, but this was not just a hateful growl, it was a warning. Nothing would part him and the fire ruby. Nothing would take Rarity away from him. They could try, the entire world could try, but nothing was pulling that ruby away from him while he drew breath. Every tug was met with stronger resistance, and, despite the dragon's best efforts, the ruby was staying put. It was only when Spike saw the dragon lower his head that his heart caught in his throat. The cruel irony of it hit him before the dragon's jaw did, but the anticipation was far worse than the pain. A single crack was all that signified the loss of the hand, accompanied shortly thereafter by Spike's muffled cry.
Day Four Hundred and Thirty Nine.
I'm not sure if I can keep I can't keep doing this. I'm scared, I'm still struggling to sleep, I can't eat right, I'm sc. I killed another dragon today. He flew too close, at least I think it was a he, and I just flew to him and killed him. His eyes, they were so dead. They stared into nothing, and a fly flew onto one of them, and I kept expecting to see them blink it away, but they didn't. I just sat and watched this fly walk all over an open eye for minutes, and it sickened me. What am I doing here? Is this really what Celestia sent me here to do? Can I even do anything else?
The entry, along with several thousand others, crackled into chars; another victim of the flames.
The blood loss was getting to him, his eyelids felt heavy, but his eyes remained locked on the fire ruby now dangling from his lost claw. "Tzarif said this was the reason he got away the first time. You must really like this gem." A sadistic grin grew across the green bastard's face, and he slowly raised the gem to his lips. "P-Please!" The word was muffled, and it was quiet from exhaustion and pain, but it was Spike's last chance. He couldn't lose her again, not after how far he'd come. "Please, d-don't!" Spike had thought he was out of tears, but more seemed to be found, rolling down his cheeks.
In the shine of the ruby, glistening with its owners blood, Spike could see it all. The first meeting they had in Ponyville's Town Hall, his first birthday in Ponyville, their first kiss, and their last kiss. He saw the first time he held her in his arms, the first time he told her he loved her. Before Spike was the love of his life, the only thing that kept him going through centuries of pain and loneliness. "Rarity, I'm sorry..." It was only a whisper, barely audible even to him, but as the fire ruby lowered into the green dragon's jaws, and the last piece of happiness Spike had disappeared forever in a loud, disgusting crunch, it was all he could say. The pain that one sound brought made his wounds fade into obscurity; she was gone, and nothing would bring her back.
A single mare laid asleep on Spike the dragon's bed, a content smile on her face. Her mane was a mess, her makeup was almost entirely gone, but she was happy, happier than she had been in a long time. She knew she had to get up soon and go back to her home, where her husband would throw question upon question at her about where she had been, but for those short, blissful moments between sleep and awaking, Rarity had never felt more at peace. There were butterflies in her stomach, and she felt like a schoolyard filly with a crush on the cute, shy colt who always treated her like a princess. She never wanted to lose that; she never wanted to lose him. Maybe it was lo- A sudden flash jolted her out of those thoughts, and she came face to face with a cruel realisation. It was time to return to reality. It was time to be a wife and a mother. She wasn't a schoolyard filly, she was a mare grown, and she had to act like it. The flames licked at her hooves, and as she left the library in a hurry, the building was swallowed into the abyss.
Spike had lost a lot of blood, and found it pooling underneath him, but he had never felt stronger. It was said that love gave you strength, and hatred drove a fighter to great lengths. A combination of the two was pulsating through Spike faster than blood was pouring out of him. The bonds strained to hold the guardian as he growled toward his prey. With great effort, he felt his back claws touch the ground once more, and with a powerful leap, he lunged forward, the bonds struggling to contain him. In the corner of his vision, he saw Celestia stir, and her eyes snapped open. Spike once again felt his stomach hit the ground with a powerful force, and he knew it was over. In front of him, the green dragon stood unharmed, the golden chain fell to the ground, unwanted and unneeded, and the broken guardian was no different. His usefulness had ended, and this was how he was repaid for his 'duty'.
"End it." A voice broke the silence, finally, and Spike recognised it instantly. It belonged to Princess Celestia herself. Her voice was shaky, she was trembling fiercely, and it appeared to Spike that she was trying not to be sick. The green dragon huffed and turned to the alicorn, a displeased scowl pasted across his crooked muzzle. "Why end it? I'm just getting started! This monster needs to pay!" There was something in the dragon's voice that Spike didn't expect: emotion. There was something eerily genuine about the statement, and it appeared as though his tormentor was shaking. "End it, Kael." That voice was also familiar, as it belonged to the dragon that started it all: Tzarif. "Can't you see he's suffered enough?" The dragon didn't look as pleased as the guardian thought he would, he almost appeared to pity the dying drake. The green dragon, now identified finally as Kael, scanned through the crowd of dragons, expecting some sort of support, but found none. A liquid fell from his face to the ground. Spike had first thought it to be his blood from the dismemberment previously, but a closer inspection revealed that it was a tear.
Celestia moved from her place in the distance, and approached Kael, stopping to stand next to the crying drake. "Please," she began, her own tears joining his in the grass, "no more." A hoof gently rested on the dragon's shoulder, a hoof which Spike himself longed to feel, and the green drake shook it off promptly, approaching the bound dragon once more. Spike looked up to meet his gaze, and was instead met with a claw across his throat; more of his blood spilling onto the drowning earth below, and joining with the pool. It was over, and everyone knew it. Suddenly, everything became clear.
Spike's eyes followed Kael's previous path, looking through the crowd of dragons, huddled together in the night. He saw no monsters, no savages or barbarians, he instead saw brothers who had been robbed of their kin, he saw mothers who had lost their sons and their mates, he saw hatchlings who had grown without a father, and it was all because of him. Ponyville had slept peacefully, but the roost had lived every day in fear and mourning. How many times did a son go off in search of a father, only to meet with his fate? How many times had a family wept at the loss of their own? The bonds faded away from his limbs, letting them fall useless and limp on either side of him. A glance to Celestia showed that the alicorn had finally returned his gaze, and she spoke, even though Spike couldn't hear her. The words looked to be 'I'm sorry', but he couldn't be sure. She didn't have to be sorry; he got what he deserved.
Ten.
The pain completely faded away, leaving only a melancholy numbness. The numbness itself wasn't the melancholy part, no, that'd be silly. It just signified that the end was close.
Nine.
Nine hundred and forty-three years of life, and what did he accomplish? The burning pile to his right proved that his written exploits would never make it to the world, nor would anypony look at his albums and marvel at how small the dragon had once been.
Eight.
His memories were his own, and nopony alive, excluding Celestia, had shared in any of them. So many adventures would be lost to time if he died.
Seven.
It was strange that he used the word 'if' as though there was still a choice in the matter, or a chance things could go another way. The end was coming, and he knew that, but part of him still clung to life. Maybe it was just the hatchling in him, still trying to see all he could.
Six.
Was there more to see, though? That was the great question, was it not? Was there an afterlife?
Five.
Did dragons and ponies have the same afterlife? Would he get to see them all again after so long? Would they still remember him, or even recognise him the way he was? He hoped he could at least go back to a happier age, if it was at all possible.
Four.
But what of good and evil? Surely, his friends would be in the best possible place for all the good they did for the world, and he... He wasn't so sure.
Three.
He had done terrible things in his life. He had done some good, that much was certain, but for the majority of his life, he had butchered his own kind with ruthless efficiency.
Two.
Maybe it was best not to think of it. If the afterlife existed, it was not his place to decide where he was going. He'd have to find out when he got there.
One.
It was cold that night; terribly cold. Spike yearned for the snug little basket he had loved when he was only a baby. Things had been so simple then, and the only thing he had to worry about was being woken up too early. It was funny, really, where the mind went just before the end.
Zero.
Celestia watched as Spike the dragon, the monster she herself had created, faded from the world. He was a ginormous beast of a dragon, dwarfing the largest the Princess had seen before him, but he had passed just like any other, not with a bang, but with a whimper. "You have our word, and a dragon's word is its bond." The words went in one ear and out the other. A deal sealed with blood was not one worth remembering. "Then I wish you safe passage to your new home, Kael. May your people thrive and recover." A response with more courtesy than concern. The dragons would be fine. After all, what could possibly threaten a dragon?
When every one of the execution party had finally departed from the clearing, Celestia fell to her knees, and she wept. She wept for Spike, she wept for herself, and she wept for every lie she had to tell. Spike's image was burned deep into her mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't be rid of it. She saw his face as her binding spell took effect. She heard his screams as the dragons clawed into his back. She felt his blood on her hooves, despite the fact she was entirely clean. She heard the crackling of flames as they engulfed everything he worked for. But the crackling wasn't part of that mental image, it was right in front of her.
Without a second thought, the alicorn rushed over to the burning books, her magic desperately scooping up as much water from the river as she could muster, but, part of her knew it was too late. The fire met the water with a sizzle, smoke wafting from the blackened pages in steady wisps. One by one, she inspected the albums and journals, hoping to find a few unspoiled remnants of Spike's life. But, she found nothing but ash and charcoal. "Spike, I am so sorry..." Tears stung at her eyes, and she wiped them with the back of her hoof. She had cried enough, and more tears wouldn't do anything to help. The dragon gave no answer, as though his mouth was once again bound.
It was one life in exchange for thousands. What choice did she have? The dragons swarmed into Canterlot, bringing great panic and fear, but no destruction. They sought her out directly, speaking words of negotiation. They demanded that she deliver to them the monster she unleashed upon them; they pleaded for their lives after losing everything. Was Equestria not their home as well? Did they not have the right to safety? She explained to them that he was there for a reason, Ponyville needed to be defended, at all costs. It was the heart of the empire! The Elements of Harmony were still a beacon of hope, in death just as much as they were in life. No risks could be taken, that much had stayed true. It was the only solution to the problem that spared the most lives. She made the only call she could.
Celestia slowly made her way to Spike's colossal head, being careful to hover just high enough to avoid standing in his blood. With a gentle touch, and a precise movement of her hoof, the alicorn closed both of the dragon's eyes, trying her best to show him that much respect at least. Despite his size, it was hard for her not to see the sweet little dragon she had seen hatched before her eyes. It was hard for her not to picture him scurrying off behind Twilight on some grand adventure for the umpteenth time. It was harder still for her not to remember the letter she received no more than a day ago.
The only solution was one that had no room for further compromise. In exchange for their word, she would give them what they wanted; she would give them Spike. Their word was their bond, she knew, and the deal was the best she could hope for. The dragons would relocate to a roost outside of Ponyville's sight, and live peacefully. But, should another threat, be it dragon, changeling, or any other of the sort encroach on the perimeter of the town, the dragons would deal with it. She traded the defence of one dragon for the defence of potentially hundreds, was that not the right thing to do? Would any other pony done the same in her place? Surely, they would take the path that saves the most lives, pony and dragon alike. What was one life in the grand scheme of things?
As Celestia began her long, slow flight back to Canterlot, she gave a final look back at the body of the dragon she had sent to die. The moonlight caught the bloody mess that was once his back, and shimmered beautifully in the most mocking way she could think of. The letter once again caught in her mind; still rolled perfectly and sitting against the support of her study's chair. She hadn't brought herself to read it, and there was a chance she never would. It wouldn't bring Spike back, and it wouldn't make her feel any better. She had made her decision, and what was done was done. Ponyville was no longer under threat, and the roost would flourish once more, free from fear. After all, what could threaten a dragon? With a broken heart, and a troubled conscience, Celestia knew the answer to that question. Betrayal.
Spike's body laid there, still as the mountain he had called home.
It was peaceful.
It was tranquil.
It was just as Spike was.
The only sound to be heard was the gentle splash of the river as it continued its course as it had for millennia.
One day, it could dry up, or it could keep running for thousands of years to come.
The only definite was that it ran now as it always had.
The river had cleaned the blood from Spike's claws after his first kill.
The river had polished the fire ruby to a pristine shine many times.
The river had been the portal through which Spike saw himself for over seven hundred years.
And yet, the river flowed on without the dragon.
The river would not mourn his loss.
The river would not cherish his memory.
The river would flow on.
Just as Ponyville, despite its value to its guardian, would continue on without him.
Ponyville was Spike's entire life, but, to Ponyville, Spike was merely a chapter in a book nopony wrote.
Spike was merely a piece of unwritten history.
In the city of Canterlot, there was a palace. In that palace, there was a study which contained a writing desk, a bookcase, a chair, and a fireplace. In that study, a white alicorn sat, staring at a closed scroll. The last letter that Spike the dragon ever wrote to her. The last remnant of the writing style that once filled her every day with a new message from her beloved student. The last piece of evidence that proved Spike's existence.
"Sister?" Luna's voice startled the princess, causing her to drop the scroll onto the rug below. She greeted her sibling with a smile, "Luna, what brings you here?" The princess of the night frowned, walking towards her older sister. "You do not seem to be yourself, sister. What is troubling you?" Celestia stared at the scroll, filled with dread. She wanted to tell Luna about what she had done, maybe she'd find some sort of comfort in her sister's support. Maybe Luna would tell her that she was a monster and prove her right. Maybe she'd be punished, she knew she deserved to be.
And yet, she couldn't tell her. It was a burden that Celestia had to carry on her own, just as when Luna was banished. Her mistakes were not something she could force upon her sister. She deserved to sleep soundly, she'd earned that much. With a single flick of magic, the alicorn cast the scroll into the fire. It ignited immediately, crackling and searing until it was nothing but another piece of kindling.
"Nothing, Luna. I just need to get some sleep."
Celestia wasn't sure how long she stared at the fire that night, but she recalled waking up in her chair filled with regret. What had Spike told her in the end? Would it have changed her mind? Would it have solved all of their problems? Would he have understood why she did what she did? She could've read it. She could've shown him at least that much respect. But it was too late now. It was too late for a lot of things.Spike the dragon was gone. Another stick fueling the flame that was Equestria.
Day ???
In a meadow just outside of Ponyville, seven friends had met for a picnic. It was the first of its kind, but it would not be the last. A tradition was created on that day, in that meadow, and it was one none of them would be breaking any time soon. It was a humble set up, just a blanket on the grass, but nothing had ever seemed so perfect. At least for one of them.
Fluttershy and Rarity were talking about something they had planned later in the week, most likely their spa trip. They hardly noticed the click of the shutter, and it was bright enough that the flash went unnoticed, which was perfect as well. Spike wouldn't want to change the moment.
Twilight and Pinkie were watching the clouds. Pinkie pointed out the obvious, Twilight pointed out the reason that the clouds were moving at the speed and trajectory they were moving, and Pinkie pretended to get it. They also didn't notice the camera, but, then again, Spike didn't notice the clouds, so it was probably fair.
Applejack and Rainbow Dash were in a heated discussion about something, probably a bet waiting to be made. Spike would've taken a photo of that, but it would end up looking angry, and that wasn't the point of it at all. The pair weren't really mad as much as they were just pushing each other's buttons. No reason to capture a moment in the wrong context. Besides, he'd already gotten plenty of photos of them during their impromptu three hooved race. That was going straight into the album once he got back to the library.
All the remained was the last member of the group, and to capture an image of him, he would have to get tricky. Spike carefully assembled the tripod, placing it down on the flattest ground he could find, and looked for the timer button. Once he pressed it, he would have to get to a optimum distance in order to get the best picture, and the timer only went up to three seconds. It probably went higher, but he could never figure out how to increase the time. He'd probably end up caving and asking Twilight how it worked, but even baby dragons had their pride. Especially baby dragons like Spike.
His first attempt hadn't gone as planned. He'd walked when he should've run, and because of that he captured a lovely picture of the back of his own head. During his second attempt he'd tripped over a rock, and by amazing luck got a mid air shot of him humiliating himself. The third time wasn't the charm either, and he managed to stand slightly off centre, resulting in half of him getting quite good exposure. Attempts four, five, and six were no better. Although, attempt seven was interesting.
After another failed attempt, a giggle caught Spike's attention. It was then that he noticed something he should've noticed quite some time ago. Fluttershy and Rarity had finished their conversation, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and Applejack and Rainbow Dash had agreed on a time and date for their next challenge. The six mares had instead been watching the dragon run back and forth, trying to get a single good picture of himself.
Spike felt his cheeks glow red as his eyes scanned the amused faces of his friends. "Uhh... I was just trying to fix the timer?" None of them seemed to believe that, and before Spike could reach it, the camera was already in Twilight's hold. The first picture probably got a good action shot of him diving for the camera, the second one likely captured his bemused reaction to not getting the camera, and the third one probably immortalised his eye roll nicely. "Very funny, Twilight." "You wanted a picture." "Yeah, but I wanted to do it myself!" "You can't do everything by yourself, Spike. Nopony can." "Yeah, well, I'm a dragon." "Fine. Then nodragon can." Spike couldn't help but smile at that. He'd always wanted to hear 'somedragon' or 'nodragon'. "Besides, you've been taking pictures all day. I think it's time that you actually enjoyed the picnic." "I am enjoying it! I just don't want to forget it. Not a single second." "Then remember. Now, everypony group up."
The group came together faster than Spike expected, it was almost as though they all knew exactly where there place was. Spike felt the familiar sensation of a magic aura around him, and found himself airborne before landing in the group where a pair of hooves wrapped around him. The young reptile craned his neck to see who they belonged to only to be met with a beautiful pair of blue eyes. "Can't have this picture without you, Spikey-Wikey. Just wouldn't be the same." Spike felt his heart swell at her voice, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips before he turned to the camera that was levitating in front of them.
Just before the picture was taken, Spike realised that he couldn't think of a single moment that deserved to be remembered more than this. Standing there with the six greatest ponies had ever met, or ever would meet, surrounded by so much happiness and love, it was just amazing. Spike was a baby dragon. He had an entire life ahead of him, and he hoped to Celestia that he would get to spend every day of it with these mares.
The camera flashed, and Spike found himself wondering what to do next.