The Dragon's Notebook: Scaled Tower
Fantasizing is part of ponykind but not every sentient being has someone who wants to listen to them ramble on. Not everypony has someone willing to listen to the wishes of another. Some are willing to do exactly that and beyond for another. Spike could put up with anything, be it pins and needles in his scales or taking out a load of garbage. It was no problem doing it for his caretaker as his title of Number One Assistant was on the line, but if the ever generous and beautiful Rarity opened her mouth to show distaste with the presence or lack of something significant, Spike would get it done. Spike would listen to the fantasies and babbling of Rarity with a loving gaze and nothing short of reassurance that Rarity would get what she wanted. Love could make one move mountains.
Love could hurt. Watching the one you love flirting with another hurts. Watching your love be hurt by another hurts even more. How does one react to such a thing? Anger that your love let herself be put in this position? Defensive and supportive? Some ponies would feel justified with an “I told you so”. There were times even Spike had to stop and wonder how his loyalty to a mare such as Rarity—one known for being in these positions—ever managed to become so deeply rooted. All in the grand scheme of “her happiness”, as he told himself.
“Eloquence, it's the word of the day. Eloquence. Lunch, exquisite, formal. Dinner, lavishing with the five-star service. The air itself almost felt too expensive.” Snip. “Not that I wouldn't have been able to afford it, mind you. This boutique isn't for some hoity-toity image, it is a legitimate, successful entrepreneurial venture wrought with financially sound magnificence. Then again, you know this.”
Snip. Spike's eyes snapped to attention, the crisp, sharp noise punctuating the ramblings. Today was not a day where he was able to blindly accept the ramblings of a love-struck girl. Not when a long day has to end with another one of the braggings of somepony more suitable for Rarity. Maybe had he arrived a minute later, he'd have a minute left to care.
“Yeah, of course. Accomplished is an understatement to one such as yourself. It's success at it's finest,” Spike responded with a little pep in his voice.
“As it should be. I certainly like to think I haven't been just presenting myself as successful.” Rarity's horn continued to flicker, casting shadows on the wall. Spike took to watching them dance as the light source shifted, the scissors floating around with the same cyan glow. Another snip, this time followed by a little gasp. “Simply fabulous, Spike. Another gorgeous masterpiece!”
Whether or not Spike could handle hearing the mare he loved go on about another stallion, he could never in his mind imagine being able to deny that Rarity knew how to make something gorgeous. This was art; carbon black, tight and fitting to the barrel with sleeves stopping just short of the flank, yet the skirt dangling just low enough to barely obstruct a full-view of the exact length. Attractive, implying an open presence as well as confidence yet yielding the atmosphere of a reserved mare. Flashy the further back he looked on the dress; the mild elegance of the rear of the dress could trick one into thinking the whole dress was busy.
“It's beautiful,” Spike muttered, awestruck.
Sure, Spike knew how to seam and stitch. Spike could make a shirt for himself of he wanted, but if Spike wanted to make one right, and make it look good, and even go the extra mile and make it feel good, Rarity was the only one he knew that could pull it off and not charge him an arm and a leg.
“Noir has been a hit, lately. Dark and alluring colour; forget what I said about grey or charcoal, or even the ever neutral black. Noir is what's hot, could you believe there was a time where noir was depressing? It's fabulous and the best part, if you do happen to choose a colour, it goes with everything. Noir, black and charcoal have a difference, believe it or not.”
A needle floated over and began to thread through the fabric, adding the final touches to the dress. Spike held the spool in such a way that it unravelled as the needle pulled the dress together. Midnight was what Rarity called it. Spike couldn't keep up with all the colours and titles, but sweet Celestia he tried. He would have taken a Twilight approach to fashion, had Twilight herself not stepped in to prevent it due to previous experience.
“Is there a meaning to this, if I can ask?” Spike questioned. “The elaboration on bla—uh, noir, I mean.”
Rarity shook her head. “Of course not. Not everything needs a reason, just someone invested enough, with the heart and passion. Then could something without reason be given a meaning, a heart and soul. It's the purpose of art and the purpose of beauty; it's for you, it's just nice to have someone notice or someone to talk to about it.”
Cyan encased the black dress, sliding it off the mannequin slowly until it was gently given a hanger. Placing it on a dress rack, Rarity let out a deep sigh. Like a teleportation, Spike had somehow brought forth a filled, steaming Chai tea to which Rarity levitated without a second thought. A single, miniscule sip was all Rarity had before levitating it back to a plate Spike still held in place. Once more, Spike vanished in a flash. However, he found on return, Rarity's horn glowing as it lifted him into the air.
“Spike, alas, while Twilight is busy with her starting duties as Princess of Friendship, I have made plans for some quality time alone with my stallion. Your help is always magnificent and sometimes, maybe a little lacking in reward, but rest assured, I am deeply thankful.” Rarity hugged Spike, plopping a light, wet kiss on his cheek, and when Spike realized where he was, he was feeling the ground underneath his feet. “I trust you know where to find your new home, dear. I bid you goodnight and the sweetest of dreams. Ta-ta!”
With an excited slam, the door was barring Spike access from the Carousal Boutique. A kiss never registered in his mind. Just the physical feeling. The emotion was gone, the attempt to flare up being washed out. It was nothing short of cruel, this treatment. Eternal teasing, everlasting yearning.
Constant heartbreak.
A warm breath, Spike let himself have a sigh as he slowly turned his body, his arms dangling like heavy bear paws. With the promise of a new home, one that Spike still wasn't sure was edible, Spike forced himself to take that first step away from the Carousal Boutique. One by one, the distance killed. He knew it was quite a walk home but as much as the ground seemed like a treadmill, Spike knew home wasn't an impossible distance. Home would always be waiting. Twilight would always be waiting. Spike wasn't sure if his heart would always be waiting.
A new trail found itself embedded in Spike's mind in the wake of the Golden Oaks Library's destruction, a castle of friendship stood as the symbol of what Ponyville stood to represent. It wasn't a backwater town like Canterlot snobs would say nor was it a beaten-shack like Manehatten yanks often touted. It was the home of the Princess of Friendship, the Castle of Friendship, and it was his home. Spike was never sure what would happen next, but he was certain he could brave it. Yet fickle love comes in to shake up the joint; a expectation preceding legitimate reasons.
Friends were important. When did loving one friend more than the rest turn into pain? Depression? When did it lead to tears and jealousy? For all his boasting about uniqueness, for being a hero to the Crystal Empire or having high authority for both Celestia and Twilight, he could never fathom the idea that his words and hoping would lead nowhere other than under his blankets.
Spike could never fathom he'd ever find anything horrible. Who could? Who would? Who did? Some do, conspiracy theories driving them along. Spike believed in the future. Spike believed in love and happiness. What would he do if he gained the ability to reshape reality? Maybe he should ask Discord. What would he do if he gained the powers of eternal darkness? Maybe he should ask Discord. What would sweet little Spikey-wikey do if he found a notebook that could kill someone, just by knowing their name and face?
You could ask Spike.
Such a thing flapped in the wind in the dead of the night. Black cover with blank white pages, unseen by any. It was too late for bustling and any late-night facilities such as clubs were elsewhere. Spike could hear rustling, cracking his thoughts and fantasies. Shattered back into reality, Spike's eyes scanned the area around him for the sound, only for his eyes to eventually lead him up, and there it was.
Dropped from a pegasus? Perhaps. Launched from Saddle Arabia? Potentially. Aliens? Spike would like that. His guess was as good as anypony's. The black book slapped against the ground, dust spreading out in a small cloud. Dirty particles settled on the once-clean black covers, giving it a flash-rustic makeover and Spike slowly approached the notebook, intrigued by anything able to take his mind off his burning jealousy.
Leaning forward, Spike's claws slid underneath the edge of the black notebook and he felt a leathery texture, rubbery even. Spike's thumb caressed the surface as he raised the cover into the light. With a quick breath, Spike blew the dust off the book and his eyes trailed over the title.
“Death Note,” he said. The word death was ominous, such a thing generally unheard of in Equestria. Or at least not one people lingered on. With cautious, anxious curiosity, Spike slipped his claw into the cover and lifted it off, feeling light tension; the binding being used for the first time. Inside was, oddly enough, a black page that he missed at his first glance. On it was nothing more than a title and a short list.
How To Use It:
The pony whose name is written in this notebook shall die.
This note will not take effect unless the writer has the pony's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the pony's name, it will happen.
If the cause of death is not specified, the pony will simply die of a heart attack.
After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.
A wind blew by Spike's left ear and his head jerked, twisting to the left as if expecting to catch someone strutting by. A dead, windless night returned and Spike felt a chill run down his spine. Unlike most scares, this never faded. A gut feeling swelled up and he felt like he wasn't alone.
Ignoring it, Spike slapped the notebook shut and hugged the black book to his chest, his feet hastily pacing; not quite a jog, not quite a speed walk. Spike's eyes remained wide yet focused on the ground just ahead of him. Something told him he shouldn't look up, something told him that the sky was going to have a detrimental effect on Spike's conscious. Something told him there was something behind him. Whether or not it was a pony, a ghost or just his lingering emotions lagging behind, however silly that may sound, he knew better than to stand in one spot to find out.
A beam of moonlight struck the crystal-infused tree which eminated a slew of colours. It was like a disco ball; Spike's initial thought on the lunar brilliance that spawned. The light distracted Spike as he stepped into his new home. Regardless of the refractions visible outside, the interior managed to maintain it's own ambiance and atmosphere. No light got in except through the windows. It was a fantastic anomaly, but part of it was a tree.
No guards had been assigned to Twilight's castle, yet. No official staff, it was all being sorted out. Shining Armour initially offered his stallions and his own hoof as the guard's personal protection before Twilight pointed out the existence of his own crystal palace.
Letting his mind recalibrate to focus on the current situation, Spike's eyes trailed towards the front door. Without a second thought, Spike stepped inside the castle, hoping once more he could ignore the bejewelled magnificence of the castle, and he could go without pausing to stand slack jawed awestruck.
Unfortunately, something kept that from happening once more. Something prodded at Spike's mind, something foreign and unknown. Too big to comprehend and the idea behind what was found just minutes prior crept back into his heart and weighted it beyond what a normal being could take. Like a whelp afraid of the dark, Spike darted up the crystal stairs, somehow able to not stop and glance at his crystal throne. The idea that there's a darkness, unlit room and the spot where he found that book, behind him... it was enough to drive him to his guardian.
Not before he blew a flame over the notebook. Not before he made the choice to hide this book. Not before he decided to not let Twilight know about such a thing, were it a legitimate object. A legitimate murder weapon, something unheard of in Equestria for years.
Twilight was hard at work, reviewing various papers. Her magic hummed constantly with no stop, papers flapping with each movement. Spike contemplated telling him about his night. Instead, he jogged across the room and gave her a hug. It felt almost desperate, like he'd never have another chance if he didn't then and there. Spike's claws dragged along her body, wrapping around until he could interlock his claws. Twilight's magic paused alongside the papers and a hoof draped around Spike's head. For a brief moment, Spike thought of this as the last time he could hug Twilight, and suddenly the almost uncomfortable warmth felt more precious than he could comprehend.
“I take it things went well at Rarity's?” Twilight asked, taking one of her rare short breaks from work for idle chatter.
“Not exactly, but, well, yeah,” Spike blabbed.
Twilight's whole head turned and their eyes met, hers beaming with confusion. With a small pinch of embarrassment tugging at his mind, Spike shook his head and chuckled. Reviewing what he said, the meaning of what he said registered.
“Err, yes?”
Twilight chuckled. “Alright then. It's late, but I may be up. You should to head to bed, Owlicious will take over, if that's alright?” Spike nodded in response. “Alright. Good night, Spike.” Twilight punctuated it with a pat on his back as he released his grip.
“Good night, Twilight. Remember, if you need something, you know where I am!” Spike exclaimed as he twisted on the spot, darting away from the glowing desk.
The further Spike walked from Twilight, the darker the room got and the more he had to rely on the translucent glow given off by the crystals. The more his thoughts wandered, the more he realized it bugged him that there was never a truly dark place. No place to hide, no place to look and be scared of any dark hallways. It was always ambient. There was no darkness.
Even that lit street where the notebook lay felt darker than the castle. But was he actually safe? Was the light present actually something he should cling to for protection or is there a reason the book brought such darkness? A reason it existed? Did it serve some sort of purpose in olden Equestria?
Spike only realized he laid down in bed as he twitched, the pre-dream he had being one of falling off a cliff. His thoughts almost gave him a lossless transition into sleep, something he was never aware of. His stomach rumbled. Whether or not it was due to hunger eluded him. A brief pause in the rumbling allowed Spike to decide that it wasn't the looming presence of the notebook in his gut.
With a simple groan, Spike hopped out of bed and stumbled towards the door. A nearby clock indicated that he had fallen asleep for ten minutes. Never being able to pinpoint when he fell asleep bothered him... but his bothers were cut short by another rumble.
“Okay, okay, I'm going, sheesh,” Spike muttered to himself.
His claws clacked against the crystal floors, continuing to prod at his nerves. The idea of trimming his claws felt like a necessity within the next few days. His teeth could use some filing as well; sometimes he wondered if his teeth could get too sharp. What about his scales? Maybe he could use some shedding? And then there's his firebreath; would the notebook be safe?
Spike tried. He really did try to shut out the notebook from his conscious but his curiosity pegged at his mind, pecking away at any resolve to leave it be. With another step, he found himself in the kitchen of the castle, surrounded by numerous cupboards. Turning on a light, Spike climbed onto the island in the centre and with a quick reflex, he burped out the object in his gut. A small piece of flame came from his mouth and spiralled out, revealing the notebook. It hit the countertop with a plop and Spike's eyes became slits as he gave an intense glare directed at the book. Something about it seemed threatening. His six sense told him not to.
Spike opened the cover and flipped to the first few blank pages. It was simple; lined, no holes, no margin. Free-form. With a glance around the room, Spike spotted a quill located by a notebook and a shopping list. The kitchen was absurdly large for the very few living beings residing inside.
Hop down, walk over, climb up, grab the quill. Repeat to get back to the notebook. It felt robotic but Spike knew it wasn't forced. Natural curiosity drove him, but his forgetfulness to walk made it seem like more than it really was. Spike gulped.
What if... this is real? Spike asked himself.
With a simple motion, Spike lowered the quill to the notebook. He jerked his handback and stared at the quill. Rather than ask himself the obvious question, like “What am I doing?”, Spike forced another question.
“Where's my ink? Haha, I can't write without any ink.” Spike's voice was barely a whisper, cracking on each word. He was surprised to hear himself at all. “Um, how about...” Spike reached into a drawer and pulled out a small packet of ketchup; takeout hay fries with included condiments. “Here we go.”
With a simple poke, the packet was punctured by the tip of the quill and Spike never paused to consider the idea that using ketchup to write was ridiculous and may ruin the quill. Pressing the pen to the paper, Spike froze up. His mind continued to tell him, “It's not real.” He was positive that there was no way it was a legitimate object. It wasn't more than this concept.
“Blueblood,” Spike spat out as he scribbled the boorish prince's name onto the paper. It was sloppy, enough so that Twilight would have chastised him for sure. Dipping his pen back into the packet, Spike continued to write. The cause of death, the time.
Blueblood
Accident
Slips and falls. While in the shower. At 6 am.
Spike slapped the notebook closed and quickly blew puff of green fire over the black object. He could feel the magical object retreating into his gut and he slapped the light hanging from the ceiling. The crystal dinged and swung like a pendulum, but it turned off, getting the message. Spike remained on top of the counter, staring at the kitchen wall as he breathed heavily. Spike's tongue felt dry and his heart was racing, almost like he ran an admirable distance. A few strands of saliva connected his teeth to his tongue; it was almost disgusting, probably even worse to see. Spike enjoyed the kitchen for that brief second; encased in light, suddenly cast into dark; for once, it felt pitch-black in the castle. It was a comfort.
It didn't last, Spike's eyes were too keen. Quickly the glow highlighted the features of the kitchen and quickly, before there was a chance to be reminded of what he did, Spike rolled off the counter top, knocking the ketchup packets down with him. A little jog was all he could manage as Spike's puny little legs stumbled up the stairs.
As far as Spike knew, Twilight had no idea he was awake; he usually fell asleep immediately, according to literally everypony. Twilight could hear his feet pattering and clacking, however. Ignorant to the strife, Twilight found it to be cute; perhaps a late-night snack kept her Number One Assistant up. Spike heard a little, feminine giggle and that was all he needed. Irrational fear evaporated, and the feeling of safety welled up inside him. Twilight could scientifically disprove of this notebook within seconds and even if not, she was a princess. There was little she couldn't do, and little she couldn't be relied on.
With a little hop and skip, Spike merrily marched to his bed. Swiftly sliding underneath the soft sheets, Spike rested his head against the puffy pillow and bundled up tight. As his heart beat, Spike felt his body heat creating a little warm atmosphere inside his bed, one that soothed him. Finally feeling relaxed enough, he let his eyes close. His attention remained on the feeling of the bed; somehow, he hoped to catch himself falling asleep.
Spike blinked a few times, and then he felt heavy... and cold. His blanket was tossed off his body and he rolled in bed, feeling a beam of sunlight shining down on his face. It wouldn't be so bad if his eyes hadn't been coated in sunlight by that point.
“Get up, sleepy head, we've got a big day ahead of us,” Twilight's sing-song voice cried out.
How does she stay up so late and be so chipper? Spike wondered, letting out a small growl.
Grumbling, his claws grabbed onto the sides of his basket and Spike yanked himself up. It took all of the energy he had but he managed to situp. His back ached, however so he took a moment to just sit there, basking in the warm sun. There was an odd air in the house; chill. Probably just the outside air seeping in after the rain. It creeped up his back nonetheless and Spike found that sitting on his bed no longer felt comforting. Closing his eyes to let them rest a little more, he attempted to roll out of the basket only for a blanket to be tossed in his face. Yanking it off, he scowled at Twilight, whom he knew was responsible. An innocent smirk remained plastered onto her face and stayed there even as she hurried out of the room.
Chortling, Spike stood up and haphazardly tossed his blanket at his bed. He never checked to see if it landed on it as he stumbled down the stairs towards the kitchen. To nopony's surprise, he spotted Twilight sitting at a desk, still sorting out files as well as six cans of some sort of nutritional energy drink.
“Did... you stay up all night?” Spike yawned out, covering his mouth as he did.
“Maybe,” Twilight's distant voice called out. Some sort of black cloud came from the kitchen and Spike didn't have to guess what was going on. “Also stay out of the kitchen. Something exploded, it could have been anything.”
It almost physically hurt to hear the cheap lie and Spike sighed, dragging his heavy legs in the direction of the kitchen. He didn't have to open his eyes, just follow the familiar charred scent. Once the smell of charred... haycakes was the only scent he could pick up, Spike opened his eyes to see an ominous black atmosphere coating the kitchen ceiling. Puckering his lip, he squinted at the ceiling, just to see if he could spot the details. He could not.
“This is a new record; you've completely obscured the ceiling, Twilight,” Spike said in a low, husky voice just short of dry cracking.
“Oh, come off it.” A cough. “This is nothing to me,” Twilight insisted, coughing in between. Her horn could barely be made out glowing, but it was certainly audible. With a quick pop, the black smog vanished, a new cloud forming in its absence. “There!”
Spike's eyes trailed towards the window and indeed, he spotted a black cloud floating away. Rainbow would be none too pleased if it infected any of her clouds. With a shrug, Spike walked to the stove and climbed on top of the counter next to it. All that was on the stove was a solid black chunk. Twilight seemed to give up on it, deciding glaring at it was the mature response. Not wasting a second, Spike grabbed the haycake and swallowed it whole.
“The smokey taste really gave it a unique taste, Twilight. Thanks!” Spike said, patting his gut.
“Um, yeah. Thanks,” Twilight stammered out, her eyes trailing up to take care of the thin cloud.
“Since you made one for me, I'll make one for you, deal?” Spike said, already grabbing a mixing bowl.
Twilight's eyes shifted to the left and right as she nervously ran on the spot. “Oh well since you insist I can't possibly say no I mean what would compel me to disagree with that kind of logical offer especially from my Number One Assistant okay thanks I'm going to go do some work call me when finished thanks bye.” Twilight cantered out of the kitchen immediately, leaving Spike snickering.
Spike's mind shut off as he reenacted his daily routine, preparing breakfast for Twilight. Now and then, she'd try and cause significant smoke damage. Fortunately, she knew a spell for that... but not for cooking. Spike knew she could easily magic some haycake mix and water in a matter of seconds and have a perfect pancake, but her insistence to do things like Spike, as if she could impress him with her cooking, could have caused irreparable damage each time. Hurrah for alicorn magic was his best response each time. By the time the food was finished, Twilight had returned. Frantically, however. Distraught wrought its foul effects on her face and before he could ask, Spike had a newspaper slapped into his face. The haycake hit the floor.
“What gives?” Spike asked with a grumble as he took the paper in his hand, the haycake in the other.
Twilight didn't respond, only breathing heavily. Spike kept his eyes on her, hoping to see some shift yet she remained the same. Turning his eyes to the newspaper, he gave it a wiggle as it straightened out. His eyes scanned the front page several times but for some reason, he couldn't process the words.
Prince Blueblood Dead
Spike pursed his lips, wondering what the big deal was. It was just a dead relative to their country's all-powerful goddess rulers. Someone Rarity pinned for in the past. Who died. Furrowing his brow, Spike continued to read the words, something preventing him from reading the story. Then he got the urge to vomit. His arms grew heavy, his knees weak. A nauseating feeling soaked into his skull and it became harder to balance himself. Reaching an arm out, he dropped the haycake once more and leaned against the counter, clutching the newspaper to his chest as he felt his heartbeat quicken and his breaths become forced and dry.
“We have... to go. To Canterlot, I mean,” Twilight muttered.
“Go. Have. Canterlot,” Spike tried to repeat. His voice, however, was sickly and hoarse as if he spent the last hour screaming. “We.”
“I'll let Rainbow Dash know what's up, or at least to round up the rest,” Twilight said, her voice finding more strength. Her gaze remained stern and focused. “As a Princess of Equestria, I can't let myself break down. I must be present for my friend's sake.” Twilight walked with an air of confidence, odd on her, especially when hearing such news.
Spike could only slowly turn his head, his eyes wide, pupils tiny and his jaw dropped. It dumbfounded him the amount of things some ponies could take. The least Spike could do was remain grounded and by Twilight's side. He wasn't sure if it was really his fault or if it was really an accident.
What if it was... yeah, y'know? Spike thought.
What was supposed to be a walk turned into a sprint. Spike clutched the newspaper, his claws digging into the weak, brittle sheets. Bursting through the bathroom door, he slammed the door shut and threw himself onto the seat. Spike's eyes began to scan the text and it verified his fears; it was the specific time he set; 6 am... and it was an accident. They wouldn't specify, however. They didn't have to.
A knock sent a shriek through Spike's lips and he accidentally incinerated the newspaper. Glancing up at the tiny plume, Spike's hands trembled briefly before a second knock came through. His head jerked downward and he stared at the door.
“Spike, you in there? Or did I just lock the door from the inside again?” Twilight asked through the door.
“I-it's me,” Spike choked out. He grit his teeth, feeling his eyes water. Already, Spike could feel mucus building up in his nostrils. Sniffling back, he let out a hot breath. “I'll be out in a minute.”
A brief pause; Twilight must have heard his voice crack. “Spike, are you okay?” her soft voice said, a motherly tone embedded. It was slow and calm, and it seemed to be what Spike needed... but it didn't make him move. “I'll be in the kitchen if you need me, alright? I'll grab a snack baggie and some gems for our trip, okay?”
“Sure,” Spike said with an audible crack.
Spike could hear her hoofsteps growing distant and he took this opportunity to grab a nearby napkin. Quickly, he wiped his eyes and blew his nose. It wasn't depression Spike felt. This was something he knew all too well; accidental sneezes destroying months of work, or his claws through a book. Knowing Twilight would be mad and disappointed. Fear and guilt. Although this was something else entirely... he still held onto the hope that it was just an ungodly coincidence.
With a heavy sigh, Spike slid off the toilet seat and opened the door. With a bit of motivation behind his step, Spike allowed himself to walk towards the castle's lobby. The glow was far more brilliant in the mornings; the skies being purple and orange gave the already shining castle a feeling of energy. Sometimes, it felt too extravagant. Too much for him, perhaps even more than he deserved... but, as a hero of the Crystal Empire, he was certain he deserved something. The events of the previous night put severe doubt on that. Disregarding the internal battle, Spike stood in the centre of the castle between each of the thrones for the Disciples of Friendship.
A set of three diamonds stood out to Spike. They weren't glowing as they do when Rarity sits atop the throne, but it still had a shine that could make his heart skip a beat. Thinking about its owner was all it took to make Spike feel better... feel justified, perhaps.
“He did ruin Rarity's night,” Spike muttered, his arms and ears dangling.
“Spike?”
Rarity's voice almost sounded real... but then again, he hadn't been thinking about her voice. Turning his head, Spike laid eyes on the mare in question, a distraught look plastered onto her face as well. But she still looked beautiful, he couldn't deny that.
“Rarity,” Spike whispered. Realizing how creepy it sounded upon seeing her head tilt, Spike cleared his throat. “Rarity!” Spike said with a bit more energy, although it was more of concern. His feet no longer glued, Spike ran across the symbol etched into the floor and leapt forward. Without missing a beat, Rarity accepted him as his arms spread out.
“Spike, are you okay?” Rarity asked softly.
“Never mind me, are you okay?!” Spike asked, his eyes wide and lost.
“Of course, dear... well, maybe not entirely, but I'll be fine in due time. Tragedy never leaves someone entirely 'okay'.” The hug broke and Rarity smiled at Spike, although it was a sad one. “I'm more concerned about Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”
Confusion stuck on Spike's face as he took a second to think. “Huh?” was all he could manage.
“The benevolent rulers of this fine land?” Rarity asked, trying to add a chuckle.
He's their nephew. He's their nephew. He's related to them. Celestia lost someone else close to her. Spike's head tilted down as his mouth hung open. His mind clouded up as the realization slammed into him. I killed him.
Putting his hands together, Spike began to rub his arms, feeling a chill in his body. The guilt felt different. It felt not stronger, but... more familiar. Like nostalgia. Like meeting an old friend. It felt permanent.
“Spike? Y'all alright?” Applejack's voice rang out.
Glancing up again, Spike realized then that the rest of his friends had arrived alongside Rarity. Somehow, he forgot their existence, or simply didn't notice them. With a few blinks, Spike nodded his head dumbly.
“That was fast, I'm glad you could all make it,” Twilight said as she walked in from the study. “There's no beating around the bush. Prince Blueblood is dead.” Several gasps came from the three ponies who hadn't known, with a look of disbelief. Twilight carried on. “I'm going to Canterlot to console Celestia and Luna. If any of you want to come with me, we would be more than thrilled. If not, I would just like you to know where I am.”
“Implying we're not going to be there? As if,” Rainbow immediately responded.
Five nods followed. Spike tapped his claws together, looking around nervously. He wasn't sure if anypony present noticed him shaking and sweating, or his frantic movements. He hoped he wasn't called out on it.
“In that case, we have no time to lose. We're going to the train station immediately. Rainbow Dash, fly ahead and notify the conductor,” Twilight commanded.
“On it!” Rainbow said with a quick salute.
Within a second, Rainbow was gone, leaving a simple spectral trail behind her. Twilight began a trot towards the entrance, the rest of the ponies following suit. For a minute, Spike thought they forgot about him, and wondered if he should even go. A purple aura encasing his body snapped him out of it and he was quickly pulled over to Twilight's back. Resting his legs on both sides, he held onto her mane.
“Slowpoke,” Twilight said in a softer voice.
Spike appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. It was broken as soon as he glanced over to Rarity; it just happened to be the side she flips her mane. Rarity's face was obscured and Spike wondered how she was truly handling this.
The entire walk to the station was silent. Each attempt at starting a conversation died out immediately and Spike was glad. He didn't have to talk to try and act unphased or alright. Everyone else present felt the same. Once the station was in sight, Spike hoisted a leg up and over Twilight's body and slid off, landing in the dirt with a soft thud. Jogging to keep up, he could see Rainbow Dash trotting in circles. The Conductor stared at a watch impatiently, tapping a hoof as several passengers glared out the window, inconvenienced by the situation. Once the Conductor and Rainbow spotted the group approaching, they separated; the Conductor to his engine and Rainbow to her friends. Pleasantries were skipped with the Ticket Master as well as the Conductor. The Mane 6 and Spike boarded and the train took off.
“Couldn't we just teleport there? Or fly?” Spike asked, rubbing his hands together.
“That would imply panic. There is no reason to panic, the tragedy has occurred. We must arrived dignified, calm, and collected. We have a responsibility as well as a mission to do this for ponies that cannot,” Twilight responded, almost sounding rehearsed.
“Doesn't that sound like yer implyin' that Princess Luna an' Celestia aren't able t' stay calm 'n collected?” Applejack asked.
“I believe Twilight is implying that it may be difficult, especially considering Celestia has lost another pony close to her. Plus, it is friendly to drop in to see how she's doing. A letter is too casual for the occasion,” Rarity responded.
Even that sounded rehearsed to Spike. He wondered who else would sound forced... he knew he wouldn't.
“Well, Prince Blueblood is—was royalty, so maybe it's... um, a responsibility of Twilight's to take a trip to the capital,” Fluttershy responded.
“It is not,” Twilight responded almost coldly.
“Oh.”
Once more, there was silence. Spike wished for nothing more than to turn back time and get a public car than a private room. Autographs, excited ponies, even background chatter was better than the dull hum of the train. Each bench could hold three ponies; Spike had opted to sit between Rarity and Twilight. With a simple shift, Spike managed to cradle himself between them and he rested his head. Rarity and Twilight both adjusted to make it comfier for Spike. A hoof pet Spike, and he didn't know who it was... but he felt thankful. His stomach churned like no other and any comforting gesture felt better than nothing.
Once more... a few blinks and Spike found that a significant chunk of time passed. He rest on Twilight's back, a subtle bobbing being the only indication of movement. With a little groan, Spike sat up and looked around. They were crossing the gate to Canterlot Castle... what really unsettled him was the lack of Pinkie's bouncing. He hoped it was just because Twilight said they should act responsible.
The walk towards the throne room was quiet. There were nopony permitted into the Castle other than officials or guards. They lined the walls like paintings, always looking at them. Spike gulped, feeling a familiar chill. Maybe it was the weather; Celestia had ordered overcast on this day.
The large doors creaked open and what little light remained outside shone through the stained glass windows to the left. To the right, the room remained dark. No torches, no candles. Up ahead, one half of each Royal Pony Sister remained lit up, the other in darkness. There were no guards present.
Twilight walked up to the base of the steps by the throne and took a bow. Celestia and Luna stepped down and bowed as well. Spike and the rest of their friends bowed. No notification of arrival, no announcement, yet they were not turned away.
“It's good to see you,” Celestia said. Her voice sounded the same; warm, kind. Her face betrayed that. “We have much to discuss. I heard you traveled through the mirror again.”
“Yes I have. Spike accompanied me,” Twilight said. “I feel like you got the short end of the stick. I doubt he would have listened to me had I said no.”
Spike merely nodded, unable to speak up. Celestia kept her smile. Luna didn't try.
“We are glad you two are close. Although I may not have been close to my nephew, it deeply saddens me to lose yet another loved one,” Luna responded. “I only wish I had spent more time. Let this be a lesson; time passes.”
Spike found it odd, how polite they were being. How nopony was breaking down. How they were getting a lesson from it. Nopony was breaking down. Nopony was tearing up. Why? Did he deserve it? Were they okay? They weren't, judging by Celestia and Luna's words.
“Isn't it sad?” Spike asked. There was a brief pause that unsettled him severely. Gulping, feeling himself shrink, he coughed. “I-I mean, uh, it's, it's just weird. How everypony's just... talking about it. How do we, or you, or I... how are we supposed to react? Like, cry?”
“Spike—” Twilight started.
“Worry not, Spike. Many ponies grieve differently. Some cry, some get angry. I would much rather remember who Prince Blueblood was and honour his memory,” Celestia responded.
Once more, it was her warm, motherly tone that set Spike at ease. It was the same tone Twilight had managed to learn. Spike nodded. He almost asked how it happened, hoping it wouldn't be what he wrote down, but he was already acting like a child. He didn't want to act like a dumb child. Spike simply bowed his head.
“When is the wake?” Fluttershy meekly asked.
“One week from now. Let the press get it's buzz and questions, then we'll have a peaceful night. We would be honoured to have you join us,” Luna responded, trying to smile.
“You're welcome to spend the night, you must be exhausted after that train ride. It would be nice to have some friends in this time,” Celestia responded. “I am not even going to wait for any potential protest. The cooks should be finished preparing dinner soon.”
Twilight's mouth hung open for a second before settling on a smile. “Thank you, Princess.”
The Mane 6 and Spike followed Princess Celestia and Luna as they led them out of the throne room. Spike trailed behind, his head still hung and wrought with wandering thoughts. Everypony else present began to chatter, feeling more comfortable after formalities. Spike could hear Twilight chatting about the human world, and the music competition. Several questions were asked, specifically about their counterparts. Even Celestia and Luna seemed interested; the idea behind Twilight getting to teach her former mentor seemed exhilarating, even to Spike. It was a nice change to the general mood. Was there a good reason to what he had done? No. It was a childish thought... but was it for the better? Blueblood was far more obsessed with himself and appearing good rather than caring about others.
Did he deserve to die? Nopony did... did they? Chrysalis, or even Tirek. Sombra? They've done appalling things. Is it right to pass judgement? Spike asked himself.
The question blinded Spike to everything that happened that night. He shut out everything and when questioned, he responded with a simple “I'm tired”. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember that night. It was a reminder of Rarity. Of what he did when that one night came into his mind.
Would... could I do something radical for Rarity? Spike asked himself as he lay in bed.
It wasn't what he was used to. It was a bed three times larger than he was, in a room far larger than anything he had. It wasn't with Twilight as well. This room was pitch black. He was entirely alone with that thing residing inside him. What would he do with it? He can't give it up, they'll see his penmanship. He can't tell anypony... another blink... and it was morning.
“I haven't dreamt at all,” Spike muttered to himself as he rubbed his eyes. Sunlight stared through the blinds and for once, Spike was glad for a bright morning. The pitch black room almost killed him during the night. “I wonder if everypony is eating.”
Stepping out of the room, Spike surveyed the halls; a pony here and there, a guard station at so and so... it was like the previous day never happened. Spike started to wonder if it had. Maybe the death and solemn mood of the previous day was his dream? With a pitter-patter, Spike made his way towards the dining room. The familiar drapes and pillars never felt more welcomed; it was familiar... a good familiar. And so was the sound of morning chatter. Making his way into the dining room, he could see part of his group had arrived. Fluttershy, Rainbow, Pinkie Pie and Applejack. Princess Luna was there, but Celestia, Twilight and Rarity remained absent.
“Morning Spike-san!” Pinkie let out with a shrill cry.
“Uh, good, morning,” Spike said with a cough.
“Sleep... well?” Luna asked, hesitant.
“Y-yeah, great. W-was it thanks to you?” Spike asked, remembering who could see into his sleep.
Luna merely stared at Spike, as if studying his figure. A stoic, unchanging expression stood chiseled onto her face and it severely unnerved Spike. Finally, her brow lowered and a small grin was put on.
“Yes, 'tis I whom it is that shall claim the right to this accomplishment,” Luna responded with a bellow.
The louder voice would have unnerved a regular pony. The group merely giggled and Spike had a dumbfounded stare. A smile soon cracked across his features and he felt at ease for once. With a little happy skip, Spike climbed atop a chair and saw what was being laid out. There was every single breakfast food he could imagine in unreasonable portions... and a giant pile of gems laid out in the centre. Spike began to drool, but then he remembered his own bag of gems Twilight held. He'd feel guilty to taste this Canterlot-approved brand rather than the ones he, Twilight and Rarity dug out one weekend.
“Actually, maybe I'll take a mid-morning walk. I'm not hungry at the moment,” Spike said, waving a hand in the air. His stomach growled at that moment and Spike glared down at his gut. A collective giggle came and Spike rolled his eyes. “I'm serious.”
“If you insist, I shall bid you farewell until your return, young hero,” Luna said with a shout. She also threw a blueberry at Spike, which he swiftly dodged. “He even has the reflexes of a hero.”
An apple smashed into Spike's scalp, nearly knocking him over. He let out a grunt and stared to the right with a bemused stare at Rainbow Dash, who at first seemed appalled by the mess and sound, quickly shifted into a series of guffaws.
“Ah'm not so sure 'bout that,” Applejack said with a subtle smirk.
“I'm too mature to play with you kids anyways,” Spike said with a chuckle.
Walking away from the kitchen, Spike hastily made his way to the front entrance to the castle. Seeing several castle staff he recognized, he felt more like his early years, where this was his home. With a smile and a skip in his step, Spike decided to take to the streets of Canterlot. He liked the positive nostalgia.
Pony Joe's Doughnut shop was, unfortunately, closed as Spike had found out. He was on a vacation, it seemed and Spike let out a dejected sigh. Kicking a nearby stone, he pivoted and walked away from the store. His eyes traced the spaces between the cobblestone, something he had also missed. It had an old fashioned appeal to it. Without much purpose, Spike walked through the area, spotting various shops that seemed like they could be a good visit.
Then he saw Rarity's boyfriend with another mare. Kissing.
Spike's stomach rumbled and he remembered everything. It was no dream, it was no bad sleep. He killed Prince Blueblood. And... with a fire burning in his chest, Spike grit his teeth and growled. With a simple burp, the notebook appeared out from his fire breath and Spike whipped opened the cover. Once on the same page as before, Spike stared at Blueblood's name and the details about his death.
Finally, Spike paused to think. Anger coursed through him, so much that he almost immediately killed a pony. Glancing back up to the couple, they parted ways and Spike got to watch Blackhoof waltz off with a shallow grin that seemed tattooed onto his face. Where was he going? He, presumably, had a life entirely separate from Rarity... as obviously displayed just seconds ago. It was one bad moment in his life. And he did it to Rarity.
“It's not a universal plan, just... a radical choice for the greater good,” Spike whispered to himself.
Short on ink, Spike devised an alternate solution. Extending a claw, Spike prodded himself on the chest, piercing the skin. With a little pop the claw retracted, a few droplets of blood left on the tip. A short breath and a quicker perception of reality was all there was to contemplate the action. Spike didn't even wait for that to pass.
Lowering his claw, blood trailed behind leaving dark red print on the white lined paper. It took forever to process but it was almost too fast writing; savouring was out of the question, but remembering how easy it was failed to register.
Blackhoof
And that was it. Spike slapped the book shut and quickly blew a plume of flames over the black leather. This time, he didn't watch the book fade. He watched Blackhoof walk ahead and Spike trailed behind him. No blinking, nor breathing. Spike felt no solace, no mortal feeling from it let alone the right to breathe. It was almost worth it, so to not let... whatever this was, get out of hand.
“38... 39... 40,” Spike muttered.
Right on cue, Spike's eyes grew to a larger size as he confirmed his earlier suspicions. Blackhoof began to stagger and his head dipped down. A second later, he stopped in his tracks. Spike didn't. Several cries of pain and agony came, confusing the surrounding crowd. Spike was the only one who didn't stop moving in response. Ducking his own head, Spike watched Blackhoof as he fell down, sprawling out on the cobblestone. Cold sweats; diluted, twitchy eyes; dry heaves and heavy panting, gritting of the teeth; and a violent trembling to seal the deal. Spike took it all in. Not the killing, but the results.
Finally, Spike managed to take his eyes off. He looked forward and the first thing he could spot was the darker skies. With nothing but a glance higher, he spotted the moon moving in front of the sun. Solar eclipses were rare, for special occasions only. Occasions of mere tragedy, major losses in the nation. That day, Spike had managed to unite the whole nation in tragedy. Spike didn't understand; Blueblood wasn't good. He was just self-centred.
“He hurt... her.” Keep telling yourself that, it's not gonna work. “Maybe.”
Scoffing, Spike let out a breath he held in and fell to the ground, his head growing weak and nauseous. There laid no solace in taking a breath this time, unlike a drowning pony desperate for air, he could not breathe even with the abundance of oxygen. Somehow, he continued walking. All he took was a single glance at the castle and he remembered why he was there. What spurred him, and what drove him to commit such an atrocity... and why he was going to continue doing it.
“It's not going to be for me. It's going to be for her. The radical choice that I can take.” Spike found breathing easier, more calming. More like it was keeping him alive. His throat ached and burned and he felt hot tears drizzling down his cheeks. Spike still continued walking towards the castle, the solar eclipse high in the sky.
“I'm going to kill everypony that threatens Rarity.”
The Dragon's Notebook: Scaled Tower
In only a matter of days, Spike's weariness began to show. Sleepless nights accompanied the hurricane of emotions flooding his mind and soon the simple act of preparing pancakes became a workout. Twilight's leering eyes scanned the swaying body and by that point, Spike didn't bother hiding his distress.
“Spike, the pancakes smell like... well, like mine,” Twilight giggled. Her horn lit up and a spark burst in front of Spike's eyes, dragging the dragon out of his daze. “Just a heads up.”
Spike's eyes fluttered for a moment, the charred scent invading his nostrils. To him, it was heaven, a would-be bliss for his taste buds. But throwing out the wasted charcoal discs? Twilight was just the kind of pony to toss out such a delicacy. To her, no nutritional value could be found, let alone anything remotely tasty. Spike had argued the point in the past but to no avail.
“Oh, uh, sorry,” Spike slurred with a shake of his head. With a single motion, he grabbed the pancake handle and flung it across the kitchen into a garbage bin. Setting the pan back on the element, Spike scooped up his homemade pancake batter and poured the ladle onto the hot metal. With a sizzle, the batter began to cook. “Hey, why don't you go get started on your assignment? I don't need babysitting for my daily job.”
Two lavender eyes kept their Sherlock scan going in hopes of Spike's body language to give way to any answers but watching her tired dragon assistant continually nod off, she could only shrug. After all, his attitude would only worsen if he was bothered.
“Alright, but if you need me, just give me a shout,” Twilight stated as she trotted out of the crystal kitchen.
No response could be made. Soon, there was only the soft sizzle of the batter to keep Spike company and quickly, he found the lack of Twilight's humming and tapping to be infinitely worse. In a matter of seconds, his brain fogged and his eyes stared at the bubbles amassing on the pancake. Recognizing the stage it was at, he flipped it over revealing a perfectly tan flat. Grumbling, he grabbed the pan and flipped the flapjack once more and glared at the surface of the uncooked side. In a matter of seconds, Spike flipped the pancake back and relished the sight of a charred pancake once more. Twilight wasn't going to stop him from enjoying his favourite forbidden snack.
Yet the sight of the charred black pancake never quite sat well with Spike. For some reason, it caused a sick feeling in his gut. Blinking and fighting the urge to gag, Spike sniffed the air for the aroma of charcoal and while that didn't trigger any disgust, once his eyes locked onto the pancake it came back once more. The black seemed to mock him and instead of enjoying the pancake as is, once again he flung the charred piece across the kitchen into the trash.
After their (non-burnt) pancake breakfast, Twilight sauntered off to a meeting where she would delegate something or other, Spike really didn't pay any attention. In a palace shaded by blue and purple, black always seemed to stand out more. A crumpled wrapper, perhaps a mess of papers muddied and, in the words of Twilight, “disgraced” by a thick black ink stain. A quick waltz through the library and suddenly, the spines of black books seemed to attack Spike's retinas from every angle and with little further prompting, Spike was reminded of the presence of a black notebook resting in his gut.
“Come on, don't do this now, I had a nice day planned,” Spike grumbled, rubbing his gut and his temples. “Besides, Rarity's probably too downtrodden to try dating again.”
Resting upon a chair in the castle library, Spike felt the cushion underneath him in a different way; it was now uncomfortable regardless of how he marvelled at it's softness upon Twilight returning with it. His claws scratched at the crystal armrests and he sighed.
“Blueblood did deserve it. He ruined her night.” Tapping his claw against the hard surface, he hummed to the click-clack sound. “What about past flings?” His tapping stopped and he furrowed his brow. “What about the rest of the girls? Is it fair that I only treat Rarity with my utmost care? My heart yearns for her but remains restrained by this feeble mind and body, that of a child. But while I would do anything for her, what about Twilight? Maybe she hasn't dated, but she has enemies. Those who denied her in the past, and what about my other friends?”
It was silent in the castle save for the echoing sound of a flapping owl; somewhere, Owliscious was keeping himself busy. Spike's mind wandered to the rules of the Death Note and he recalled it mentioning ponies; did it stop just there? If so, Owliscious—
“What am I thinking?” Spike slapped himself on the forehead, groaning. “He's only wronged me, and it was still just me being jealous. Even if it wasn't wrong, I can't be petty and selfish. This isn't for my own good, it's for theirs. But, those guys did try to steal those phoenix eggs... it wouldn't be selfish of me in that instance.”
There was no response from the castle. Even if it was mildly sentient, or at least the table was, it would not tell him what to do. Spike couldn't talk to anyone, it was entirely him and he grunted in response. Once again, in his mind he played the scene of Blackhoof thrashing around just to realize what it was he'd be doing.
“Sweet Celestia,” Spike muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Your highness, you called?”
A lone guard stood after a quick bow, his day princess perched atop her throne. Princess Celestia's eyes wandered towards the stained glass windows depicting the various exploits of her former student and friends. There was a single portrait of her and her sister defeating Discord thousands of years prior. But none of her nephew. The only thing to remember him by would be his living space, memory and various, often empty obituaries. He was vain but he was also family. Turning her attention to the guard, she finally spoke.
“Yes, please send for my sister. I wa—must speak with her at once,” she softly spoke.
“Of course, your highness,” the guard quickly responded before placing his helmet atop his head.
As he galloped away, Celestia's eyes once again turned towards the stained glass windows. The jagged, blocky depiction of Luna softened her heart and her sister's antics played out through her memories. The Castle of the Two Sisters, formerly her primary residence, still has many working traps and tricks throughout its corridors. Canterlot may be her kingdom's capital, but it never felt like home. With Luna present, it was that much closer, but she couldn't truthfully set up pranks and traps throughout without some poor cleaner or guard to trigger it.
A sparkle flared next to her and Luna appeared after a blue flash of light. Her mane, although impossible to frazzle, still drooped having been harrowed by sleep deprivation and lack of care. Luna's eyelids sagged and she blankly leered ahead with half-lidded eyes. Craning her neck, Celestia could almost hear the gears creaking as her sister met her gaze.
“Whaaat?” Luna cried.
“My apologies, I know you're supposed to be sleeping, but—” Celestia's horn lit up and her crown lifted from atop her head, resting on the floor between the thrones. “I wanted to see my sister and I truthfully could not wait until dusk.”
Luna's eyes opened up and she seemed to roll her eyes, but instead wound up yawning. Smacking her lips, she wiped gunk seeped into her tear ducts and licked her dry lips. Celestia watched, hiding a smirk as her sister fought off sleep.
“Couldn't you just watch me sleep like a normal pony?” Luna barked as she slouched on her throne.
“Ponies don't do that unless wed, Luna. Not anymore,” Celestia responded.
Her sister's eyes shot open and her eyes fluttered for a brief moment. “Um, good thing you're a heavy sleeper,” Luna muttered.
“Anyways, I simply could not take the silence any longer. Nothing to delegate, oversee or command and for some reason, I am drawing a blank when it comes to ideas to pass the time. I had decided to bug you,” Celestia responded as her horn let loose the thick drapes for the windows lighting her throne.
“You have achieved your mission, may I return to my chambers?” Luna scoffed. “Perhaps I could return to my previous dream in that instance.”
“While it is true I wanted to speak to you, there was something that bugged me. While my paranoia knows no bounds, during the funeral procession for my—our nephew, my magic picked up something.” Luna pushed herself up into a proper sitting position upon hearing those words, her eyes fully open, Celestia now with her full attention. “I had been scanning for any Changelings, given the events surrounding the Royal Wedding, I've done so for every major event. And tho no Changelings came up, instead, I found something dark, something... sinister. It wasn't something Discord had picked up, and I do not think it was a living being. But there was definitely a presence. One I could not place but I felt it before.”
“A presence; was it anything like the Elements of Harmony, something more grounded and earthly? Perhaps you only picked up the strong emotions. Emotions can be the cause of some rather... dark and powerful magic,” Luna stated with remorse dripping from her words. “Perhaps not jealousy, but sadness and dread. Perhaps the collective amongst the ponies was enough, if but a moment, for such a dark presence to be felt.”
With a gentle shake of her head, Celestia sighed and her horn lit up once more. Once again, a guard cantered in, methodically removing his helmet as he bowed.
“Your high—”
“Tea. Please,” Celestia called, her eyes not once opening to meet the guards.
“Of course, your highness.” And he sped off once more.
“My magic does not pick up on emotions or magic spawned from emotions, otherwise I would be able to pick up on Cadence's love spell. No, this was something alive, but not our definition of alive. Like it was from another dimension. I felt something similar when I came into contact with our alternate selves from the mirror.” With a hum, she tapped her chin. “Perhaps it's similar to a dream. You can traverse between the dreams of ponies, you can sense them, perhaps it is like that. It is not quite real, but at the same time, it is. I had considered the possibility that somepony had fallen asleep and I was picking up their dream. Dreams are often the slave to emotions and memories. But I do not think so.”
“I agree, nopony was asleep at the funeral. I did not pick up on such a presence myself, but perhaps I could look into it. If you still have the list of all whom attended the funeral, my powers of the dream could be used to look into the matter.” Celestia nodded in response and Luna continued, “How many were there?”
“Just under five hundred,” Celestia responded.
The silence hung until a pony with a trolley wheeled in the requested tea. Before she could approach the two sisters, Celestia's magic levitated the tray carrying the cups, tea and various other assets.
“Thank you,” she called out from across the great hall.
The maid stopped to bow before retreating with said trolley. Luna retrieved her own cup from the trolley as Celestia sat it next to their crowns and steaming hot tea was poured into both. Celestia took care to add an artificial sweetener while Luna loaded hers with sugar cubes, making the drink more of a sugar with tea rather tea with sugar.
“I will rule out Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Were they all present?” Luna asked, taking a long gulp of her hot beverage. She then spat it out, having realized the temperature.
“Her five pony friends as well as Spike were present. There is no need to check their dreams. I have no doubt in my mind that they would not have anything to do with what I sensed.” Celestia then daintily sipped her tea, eyeballing her sister while Luna glared. Luna then did the same, staring daggers all the meanwhile. Celestia couldn't stop a giggle from coming out. “Careful now.”
“Relax, if I of all ponies could not handle a little heat, I would not be able to be anywhere near your cranium,” Luna spat with a sip.
“Did you just call me a hot head?” Celestia asked with a bit of puzzlement etched into her tone.
Two green eyes scanned the rules of a little black notebook. Under candlelight, Spike sat in a dark, empty room far away from Twilight's bedroom. Taking a note from his former caretaker, he scanned every page numerous times to get a feel for the rules. Having been certain some of it stuck, Spike slapped the covers shut and curled up into a ball on the crystal floor. He never once bothered himself with getting a blanket or cushion. His eyes burned and stung from the drowsiness caressing his body. Several times he had yawned but he didn't want to sleep. Not just yet. If he was going to take his new mission seriously, he had to learn to suffer for it. How could he protect his friends and loved ones if he couldn't handle a little sleep?
Smacking his lips, he ran his claws along the cover of the book, feeling the leathery texture beneath him. It felt like an ordinary book. Looks could be deceiving, though. With several rules in his mind, he rolled onto his back and relished the cool crystal floor. It brought relief that he couldn't find during the day. Maybe it was a fever induced by his lack of care for himself; he hadn't eaten and he heard that sometimes, one's own mood could induce fever-like symptoms. Twilight dismissed it as a fact but didn't outright deny that it was entirely impossible. One or two cases in all of recorded history were plausible, in her words.
The relief was short-lived. Soon, a feeling of dread entered his mind, no, it broke down the front door and spat on his couch. He gagged and rolled onto his side, hacking up a little fluid and a half-eaten gem. The taste of acid lingered on his tongue and Spike groaned, not bothering to move from where he caused the tiny puddle.
“Good grief,” he muttered. “Reasoning with my conscious isn't good enough, apparently.”
Pounding his fist against the floor several times, he sighed and spat out a small plume of fire onto the small puddle below him. “Good game, flame,” he muttered.
After the fire died out, all that was left was a sanitized floor and a gem. He would not eat it, however. Even to him, that was disgusting; birds could do that all they want. Alongside his thoughts, a small hoot echoed and Spike looked up, finally pushing himself upright as Owliscious floated into the room. Quickly, Spike rolled over and spat a fire over the book and it disappeared, once more resting inside his gut. The owl then landed where it was and he dropped a scroll.
“Huh? Twilight can't get messages,” Spike muttered. Upon unravelling it, he sighed. “'Spike, sleep. -Twilight'. Fine, I'll go to bed.”
Spike pushed himself to his feet and sauntered off, leaving the owl to tilt its head in his direction. With a flap of its wings, it flew towards Spike and perched itself atop his head.
“Lead the way, predator of rodents.”
