“I beg your pardon, but do I know you, darling?” Rarity queried sweetly, her voice lathered in honey-like tones as they always were when addressing a stranger.
How utterly strange.
A peculiar, sickly sinking feeling greeted my gut at her words. It would bring a cheerful grin to my lips if it were Pinkie speaking to me, as I was well aware she loved a good prank, but for a respectably prim and proper mare such as Rarity…
It seemed positively unthinkable that she would joke about such a thing. Especially while maintaining such a disturbingly straight face. Despite the unsettling stirrings in my chest, I gave an empty laugh.
“Ha, nice one, Rarity.” I grinned, though I could feel the corners of my lips fall ever so slightly as her face remained stoic and unamused. Her head cocked to the side, causing a single lock of her voluminous and silky violet mane to collapse over her right eye. She irritatedly brushed it away with an indignant snort.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember who you are, mister, um..?”
“Spike,” I said quietly, my eyes widened in pure bewilderment. Had Rarity been drinking? It was quite unbecoming of this alabaster unicorn to ever step hoof into a bar, but I’m sure that anypony -- even the most elegant and astute of them -- to have one too many a glass of red wine in the wake of a crisis.
“Well, Mr. Spike,” she began curtly, “I’m ever so sorry I can’t recall meeting you, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to catch up if we cross paths again. But not now, darling, I simply must run along now, I’m already late for an extremely important meeting.” She flashed me an apologetic smile as she turned crisply on her heel and trotted away, her glossy tail bouncing playfully behind her.
“Ta-ta, then!” she chimed over her shoulder. I urged myself to do something… anything. And yet, I watched as my arm raised limply in a dazed wave, and my lips failed to utter a ‘goodbye’.
It was a crisp-aired autumn afternoon -- heavy with the musk of fallen leaves and winter’s bated breath -- that Rarity forgot me. As my eyes followed her figure down the street, I realised that it was I, and only I, that she had lost in the mists of her mind. She sang a joyful hello to everypony she passed, laughing kindly along with them and calling them lovingly by name.
Mere days ago we had held a private picnic, and in preparation for her arrival, I had gathered a lovely, fragrant bouquet of scarlet carnations. I had wordlessly led her to a meadow, a grassy glade that was always awash with the twitters of nature and forever basked in sunlight’s glow. It was a field that I had, for many years, retreated to when it times of doubt or worry -- it soothed me like no kind words ever could. My heart was instantaneously appeased by even the faintest whiff of the meadow’s scent -- a delicate perfume of fresh morning dew and lavender, which grew in abundance throughout the lush, emerald glade.
And when she opened her eyes…
When she opened those glistening sapphire eyes, I could have easily testified that I was the happiest dragon in the world.
I presented her with the carnations, which she accepted gratuitously. I was astonished to find that her pallid face had flushed more than mine as she accepted those flowers. We had remained there, in the company of the chirping sing-song of the birds above us and the beautiful sprays of lilies and buttercups, long after the picnic basket had been emptied and the last, plump piece of the blueberry pie had been consumed.
We stayed there, simply talking and enjoying one another’s company, until the first rosy hues of dusk painted the wispy cirrus clouds that drifted along above us and the sun began its descent.
And as I escorted her to the lantern-lit doorstep of the Carousel Boutique, she planted a single kiss on my cheek -- more sweet than any carnation or earthly gift I could have granted -- and promptly said goodnight.
And that was the last goodbye I ever had.
“Spike, you’re home late. What took you so long?” Twilight asked ponderously as the last book she had enveloped in her magic influence was shoved into its proper place on the shelf. A frown of stern disapproval at my tardiness and lack of warning persisted upon her lips, but I could sense her relief upon my arrival -- however delayed it may have been.
“Sorry, Twi. I was feeling a little down, so I stopped by the meadow.” I sighed dejectedly. Every ounce of mock-motherly scolding melted from her face, replaced by a look of loving concern.
“Oh? What’s got you down, Spike?” she asked, biting her lip with worried concern.
“I-it’s Rarity. I bumped into her today at the town market, just in front of the old windmill, and when I said hello, she..” I trailed off, biting back tears of bitterness I hadn’t known I had been containing. Twilight nodded her head expectantly, her eyes gleaming with interest. “She said she had no idea who I was. I thought maybe it was a joke, but she seemed so -”
“So dead serious.” Twilight finished, a long sigh following. “I don’t know what to say, Spike. That’s so odd. Perhaps she was just out of it today. I know for a fact that she’s been struggling to balance her life since she received several very important clients. Maybe she just needs rest before she can think straight. Remember last summer, and how I was constantly forgetting things because I had been too stressed over my studies?”
I simply nodded, not having the strength or will to breath a word of reply.
“Cheer up, Spike, nopony just flat-out forgets about one of their dearest friends.”
“Then why did she remember everypony else? Why, out of hundreds of towns ponies, did she not remember me? It just doesn’t add up, Twi.”
That’s when I noticed.
Twilight was crying. She hovered over me, fixing me with eyes brimming with tears. She gave me an apologetic smile as a loud sob escaped her trembling lips, and her knees buckled.
“Twilight!” I cried, rushing to her side. Tears trickled freely down her lavender cheeks, and her eyes darted away from mine.
“I am so sorry, Spike. But I had to. It was my job. I erased her memory,” she cried, her puffed and bloodshot eyes peering pleadingly up at me. I stood frozen there, my mouth open and closing as words failed to escape, or even come to mind.
“But not by choice, Spike.” Twilight sniffled. “Rarity asked me to.”
