This is a tale of a stranger seeking redemption.

Starlight Glimmer!

The village fears the filly who turned the mayor's son into a broom!

Left by her family, banished by a princess, all for beating Twilight Sparkle.

Thankfully, on her dubious, evil trek, a dying, enamoured dragon, vows to assist her. Quiet and competent, Spike is everything she needs. However, all his calm, electrifying quips about her and her body are enough to deck him through a wall!

And Starlight can't tell who she hates more: him, or the world!

The days are the same and the nights are like any other. In the kitchen for her evening wine, a mare shares a glass with a time-travelling dragon, who can barely say more than the word 'Yes.'

[Cover by Theretroart88]

You already know who this story is dedicated to.

You see a message sent ten minutes ago from someone who has not been online for the last ten months.

You are Spike, and that message is from Rarity.

Greatness is a desire created by fantasies. Rarity has always wanted to be the greatest fashionista, and Spike the greatest hero. Yet when they get what they want, they find themselves empty instead. The two then enjoy a weekend together.

Princess Luna falls from the sky to prevent a dragon from returning home. Before their impending battle, the two go for a walk, discovering more than one set path to their destination.

Twilight tries to find out why.

Spike and Celestia learn they don't have to live eternity alone. Can they soothe each other mortal wounds? Can they make it across the Badlands to see the Dragon King alive? Will they trust love in a heart that will beat on until forever?

Edited by FanficReader920.

It's been years and he's yet to grow. Spike wants to be with her, with Twilight, but knows... he isn't right for her. Only, she's been hanging with too many stallions not right for her. The bar mostly. Not like her. Will Spike bring her home safely?

He's a coward, and assistant, for her alone.

[Cover by the King of Spike, Frist44 | ID: 444849]

Spike wakes up to no memory of himself or why he's missing an arm. Someone sleeps against his chest, an angel of white, an apparently formal friend. What does a dragon, forgetting his past, do with his future?

[Self-induglent Sparity riddled with purple prose to cheer me up]