Something hadn’t been right. Not since she first learned about Rarity’s crush on Trenderhoof and seen her assistant’s reaction. His face was one of obvious discomfort, but it blended in with his persona of refinement to give an air of pained dignity to the small dragon.
And then, he went and did something Twilight thought, while insane, touching, and sad all at once; he tried to help Rarity gain Trenderhoof’s attention and affections.
Perhaps Spike was only try to one-up the object of Rarity’s affections by showing his dedication? Or maybe he was relying on how fickle Rarity’s heart could be when it came to stallions. Surely the baby dragon wasn’t just giving up on his crush.
With these thoughts in mind, Twilight quietly slipped away from the Ponyville Days evening Gala, and the Princess swiftly made her way back to the library in a flash of aether and a whiff of ozone.
She stood before the door to her own home but hesitated for the briefest of moments. She knew who was within the wooden walls, but her sense of familial duty faltered for just that moment.
Did she want to see him in his current state? Would he want her there?
Ridiculous! She mentally scolded herself. She wanted to see her friend and little brother no matter what condition he was in, and if he was upset, he would need her all the more!
Still, rather than immediately breakdown the door to come to his side, she pressed her ears to it and listened first. The glow of the windows and and crackling noise from within confirmed the fireplace was roaring, but there was no sound from the baby assistant himself.
“Spike!” She called through the grain, fibers, and paint which made the portal to the library. “Spike, I’m coming in.” The princess warned and stepped inside to a sight she had no preparation for.
There was Spike, in the highback, red armchair, in his red and black velvet robe with his first initial embroidered in gold on the lapel, in his lap, a book. Not one of his comicbooks, not some adventure novel, but a hefty tome on philosophy and spirituality. No bubble pipe dangled from purple and green scaly lips, no funny fez at a skewed angle on his head. He was the picture of a stoic reader.
And that summary of all those warning bells terrified the alicorn beyond comprehension.
“Spike?” She said slowly and received a grunt from him in acknowledgement. “Are you going to be okay?”
At last, he looks up from his book and faces her. “Hmm? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” There’s no sign of tears or that he has been crying, something else that spoke volumes greater of his personal tragedy despite his own words.
Twilight moves forward, even Spike can see he’s failed to completely convince her. “Spike, I know how you feel about Rarity. We all do-”
“Even Rarity.” Spike says with a distance born of both practiced apathy and ardent wistfulness.
The comment made the purple princess freeze mid-step, wincing as though it were she who had been cut by these events. “Yes… Rarity too. And I know that this whole Trenderhoof thing must be upsetting, and if you want to talk about it I’m here for you!” She had offered the proverbial branch of olives to begin rebuilding a bridge she had long neglected.
The dragon, however, does not respond. Instead he takes long, trembling breaths in a depserate grab for recomposure. But his mask cracked as he spoke. “There’s nothing to talk about. Never was. It’s just like you and everyone else has told me since day one.” Spike set his book aside, hopping off the chair and began to pace. “‘She’s out of my league!’ ‘I’m just a child!’ ‘It’s just a stupid… Stupid… Stupid crush!’” The assistant finished his rant with a fist to the fireplace masonry.
Twilight winced again to hear his words, knowing it had not been long ago she had last spoken them in the face of evidence to the contrary. Finding her ground, Twilight shook her head and said firmly: “No, Spike. You’re wrong there. We were wrong. Your feelings- Your love is what brought back Rarity from The Nightmare when all else failed. And any mare would be lucky- No, blessed to have anyone -stallion, griffon, dragon, whatever or whoever- half as dedicated to them as you’ve always been to Rarity.” After a few moments, the pony and the dragon’s gaze met, his was sad and resigned, hers was unyielding and uplifting.
“Then in that case…” Spike began and looked back at the book briefly. “I think the old proverb goes ‘if you love something, set it free.’” His voice was tired, a young boy trying to win at a battle of the heart he finally admitted to not only losing, but feeling as though he never stood a chance.
It broke Twilight Sparkle’s heart to hear this from someone so young and who worked so hard. She pulled him into her chest with her forelegs and tried to shield him from the evils of the world with her wings.
“After everything you’ve done and we’ve neglected. After everything you’ve given and never gotten in return… You’re the last person who should ever say that.” The scholar whispered soothingly to her assistant. But instead, he just pushed away from her embrace and gave her a sad smile.
“Come on, Twilight…” The dragon began, a few tears welling at the corners of his eyes. “You know that’s not how these things really work. Every sacrifice we make, no matter great or small, for how noble or petty, we do so with knowledge it may never be returned. Knowing this and continuing to sacrifice still in the name of what we cherish is what defines the great from the small.”
The words cut through the air and straight through Twilight’s heart. Her own tears began to spill free and she pulled Spike closer. “Spike… You really have grown up. I’m just so sorry it happened so soon.”