In his cave, Spike rose from his week long slumber. He yawned, revealing large teeth. He stretched, and his claws grazed the stalactites at the top of the cave. He was considerably larger than he had been in the past, and could contribute his size to the vast collection of gems he rested upon. They sparkled beneath his scales, lightly reflecting his pale underbelly. He ran a claw through his glittering treasures, and smiled.
The dark cave that was now his home was not something that ponies could appreciate, but he found it comforting, almost natural. It was at least a day's journey from Ponyville, and he did not receive many visitors, but at his age he was quite thankful for that. It didn't matter what nurturing had taught him, because nature had taken over. A dragon needed his personal space. There was nothing that could intrude upon him, nothing that could disturb the peace.
With one obvious exception. He lifted his head, and considered the scent that now pervaded his nostrils. Lilac and chrysanthemums. It was a beautiful smell, and a welcome intrusion. The pony that scent belonged to was the only one welcome in his cave. She was the only one allowed in his life. Her visits made his life worthwhile, and he looked forward to this one. They would speak, and he would give her gifts. He might even allow her to take some of his hoard home with her.
Last time she had been there, he had pleased her by giving her a large sum of his hoard. Bright gleaming sapphires, expertly cut rubies, flawless diamonds, and no small amount of fine gold. Battling his greed had been difficult, but it had been quite worth it to see her smile. No matter what happened her smile belonged to him. She could allow others to see it, but he knew who it belonged to. Nothing could ruin Rarity's visit.
The smell was closer now, but it was no longer simply lilac and chrysanthemums. Ink? Perhaps she had written a letter before coming. It would not be surprising if she had done so, but Rarity was far too neat of a pony to spill ink on herself. He sniffed deeper, his large nostrils flaring and billowing smoke as he exhaled. No, the amalgamation of scent was not simply an addition of ink. This was the smell of another pony. It seemed familiar, but he could not rightly place it, or determine its owner. Perhaps she had brought a guest with her? He would have to speak with her about that. He frowned at this thought, he lived away from everyone else for a reason. There was no need to bring unwelcome guests into his cave. He allowed her to intrude, but no one else was welcome. She was the only one he would let in his life.
"Hello, Spikey," Rarity called from the mouth of the cave. Her form against the scant sunlight cast a grim shadow on his hoard. Only one shadow, she had not brought a guest with her. He breathed in deeper, and a puzzled look crossed his face. The scent was so familiar, why could he not place it? Rarity trotted into the cave, oblivious to his confusion. "How have you been?"
He grabbed her with an enormous claw, set his nostrils right above her mane, and inhaled deeply. She looked up at him, confused as her mane blew about in the near gale force winds. He briefly considered the scent. Ink. There was only one pony he knew of whose coat smelled so strongly of ink. There was only one action that could result in such a detestable combination of scents. His eyes widened in realization, and he fought back the tears.
"Where have you been?" Spike growled, and dropped her onto his hoard. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He fumed, filling the cave with dense smoke. It hid the scent of ink, but the perceived slight was still there, clouding his mind. "Why would you do this?" He held in a scream. He tightened his claws until the knuckles turned pale. "I thought we had something."
"What do you mean?" She pressed up against him, giving him a playful kiss on the cheek. "Spike, are you all right?" She leaned up against his large face, placing her forehooves underneath his right eye. "Have I done something wrong?"
"I." The words were caught in his throat. He looked down at her kind smile and bright eyes, and calmed himself. He stopped spewing smoke, but this only allowed the offending odor of ink to consume his thoughts. "Something wrong?" He glared at her, his words dripping with anger and venom. "I smell her on you."
Her face fell at that one word. At just that one word, her face admitted guilt. Rarity placed her hooves back on the mountain of gems, and stood. Her head hung low. "I'm sorry." She tried to look up at him, but retreated from his fierce gaze. " I was lonely."
"Lonely?" Spike snarled at the word. "Lonely!" He struck the mountain of gems beneath her, sending her tumbling down the other side. "You don't know the meaning of the word." He climbed up his hoard, and extended his long neck until he was eye to eye with her. "You have an entire town to keep you company." His claws dug into his hoard, sending gold and gems flying. "I had you." He turned from her. "Now I have no one." He calmed himself, and ran a claw through his mountain of treasures. "Leave." He looked back at her out of the corner of his eye. She had been stunned by the word. He snapped again. "Leave!"
She narrowly dodged his claws, and ran for the mouth of the cave. For a brief moment her shadow was cast across his hoard, an event that he would not allow to occur again. Spike set his large body down on his hoard again, struggling to reclaim his mind. He wrestled with his rage, and breathed deeply. He had to understand why this had happened. His thoughts became dark as he brooded. She had led him on for years now, but he could not fathom why. He did not understand what benefit she might have gained from being with him. He was no one special, he had no influence to speak of, and he was outright shunned in every respectable circle in Equestria. He wondered as he raked his claws through his hoard. He continued this for hours, thinking and running his talons through his treasure.
He thoughtlessly raised three diamonds to his face, and scowled at them. This was the reason behind her deception. He tossed the stones across the room, and scattered the hoard with a sweep of his tail. Gold and precious stones showered the walls of his cave. It had always been about what riches he could bring her. It had never been about love, or their brief moments of companionship. Those deep conversations they had shared on those starry nights clearly meant nothing to her. He had opened himself up to her. He had given her everything he was. But it had always been about the gems.
She could have them. He would give them all to her. The hoard was worthless to him now. It was nothing but a reminder of her transgression. He inhaled deeply. This was what she wanted. She could have the hoard.
Rarity laid in her bed, her eyes red from tears. In her hooves she held a fire ruby, a reminder of better times. She no longer held the relationship that had made the gem so important to her. She had thrown it all away for a one night stand. She was at fault now, and had no understanding of how to ask for forgiveness. She did not even know if forgiveness was possible. Her self pity was interrupted by a flash of green flame, and the sudden appearance of a single diamond on her bed.
She lifted it up, wondering if it was a sign of forgiveness, some glimmer of hope. More gems appeared, and she stared as her entire bedroom was engulfed in bright green flames. More gems appeared, and the floor began creaking from the weight of them. Her jaw dropped as her furniture was crushed beneath the onslaught of treasure. She dashed for her bedroom door, but in mid-stride she was covered in an avalanche of gold. She fell to the floor, and reached up for the doorknob, but it was just out of her reach.
She struggled to stand, but the weight was too much. More precious stones appeared, covering her and the entirety of the room. More gold littered the room, and she felt her bones crack from the weight. Bright gleaming sapphires, expertly cut rubies, flawless diamonds, and fine gold filled the room. Rarity's chest collapsed, and, without so much as a shriek or a cry, she was ground beneath the hoard.
Spike curled up in his barren cave, resting his strong jaw on his tail. He had no knowledge of the atrocity he had just committed, but wept just as bitterly as if he had. She was gone from his life. They would never again have those deep conversations on those starry nights. They would never again laugh about the good old days. They would never again give each other comfort. Spike no longer had any source of comfort. He cried through the night, alone, without even his hoard to comfort him. He would never smell lilac and chrysanthemums again.
Author's Note
This story was written for a challenge with electreXcessive. The prompt for this challenge was given to us by Flint Sparks. If you see a story done by either of them, just go ahead and read it. It'll be worth it.