Spirits of the Heart

Party Crashers

Moonlight cast shadows around the darkened room, each vibrant ray reflecting off of his scaled head, making sparkles of light dance around the room when he shifted. A chilling breeze gently caressed his back, never even dousing the flame in his chest. After tightening the cuff of his sleeves, he strode over to the lone mirror in his bathroom.

The reflection he saw astounded him. Instead of Spike; the worthless working dragon, he saw Prince Spike; the son of Princess Celestia and brother to: Prince Ryder, Prince Shining Armor, and Princess Twilight Sparkle. Each of his scales had been polished to perfection tonight, leaving behind an almost glossy surface that felt smoother than a cool river stone. Even the dirt that had been built up underneath was wiped away, leaving the drake fresh, renewed, reborn. A second chance.

Shaking off what loose droplets of water clung to his scales, he let his eyes adjust to his new form. His spikes had been filed atop his head, leaving them shorter than usual. Around his neck he wore an amulet that was in the shape of a lightening bolt, rainbow in color. It was a gift from Rainbow Dash when he had first gotten his wings. On his left wrist was a bracelet woven from the fabric of a torn glove, a token from Applejack. The belt that he wore was made from the fur of an elk, a token from Fluttershy, and there was a small pin that he fastened to his collar, a trio of balloons, a token from Pinkie Pie. From his sister, he adorned a pair of magically enchanted gloves that would allow him to speak with her no matter where he was. From Rarity, he was garbed in the fine suit that she had made, which he found could change color with his mood or the light of the room.

His emerald eyes reflected back in the shimmering moonlight, seemingly aglow with the warmth of a thousand suns. Sometimes he thought it was a trait that he had gained from his mother, but most of the time he took it as a sign of him being a dragon. Casting aside a casual sigh, he slithered across the room towards his balcony, where he gazed out over Ponyville.

Though there was so much popularity to the small town recently, it was still nice to see how secluded they were from the rest of Equestria. Fall was his favorite time of year, not because of the dying leaves, nor because of the animals gathering their food for winter, but for the running of the leaves, for the sweet smell of the falling leaves, and the smell of special bakery treats being made. Looking out, he was surprised to see the lights off at his favorite pastry shop, but he just chuckled when he remembered why.

Below him ponies entered. Behind them were zebras, gryphons, and one or two dragons. Their appearance surprised him, but he brushed it off as his grandfather's attempt at retribution. Lights from the open doorway encompassed them in a golden glow that reminded him of his days in high school. Things were so much simply then, no wars, no treaties, no difference. Ever since his father died, things had been changing. Dragons were seen as filthy, cannibalistic creatures, which he supposed was true of his grandfather and some of his followers, but not all. His ex-girlfriend was a prime example of that.

Sighing, the dragon took to leaning against the railing, letting his gaze wonder to the open fields just beyond the lights of the town. Somewhere inside he felt a deep yearning to leap off the edge, to fly out and away from everypony, where nothing save for the natural world could ever hurt him. A lone tear fell.

“Spike, are you in here darling?” The drake nearly jumped at hearing a knock, but his heart sky rocketed when he heard her voice. “Princess Cadence told me that you were up here.”

With the flick of his wrist, Spike used the magic in his gloves to unlatch the door and swing it inward. “I'm over here.” Hesitantly, the mare whom had spoken entered. Her eyes glanced over the room as she proceeded towards the balcony.

“It's chilly out tonight.” Spike only flashed her a warming grin. “I suppose though that a gentledrake such as yourself wouldn't notice.” She giggled. Spike felt butterflies flapping around in his stomach, his heart beating faster, and his palms moistening as he took in her form. Still as lithe as ever, she was garbed in a white flowing dress with a light royal blue around the collar and trim. Around her neck was the same necklace that he had seen in front of their picture. Now that he was staring at it, he caught the faint glimmer of a small latch tucked into the left side, which made his heart leap into his throat. What captured her stunning beauty the most was the moonlight, how it made her purple mane glow with radiant light, and her dazzling sapphire eyes sparkle.

“Still a stunning view.” A content sigh escaped her as she gazed out over the same fields as he. When she turned to look at him, he swore he could see a faint spark. “What happened darling? W-Why did you leave?”

Her stutter did not go unnoticed. He suppressed the urge to wrap her in his arms. “It was a long time ago Rarity.” His voice was saddened, his head downcast. “The night that I left was the hardest thing I ever did. I was running away from everypony that I loved, everypony that mattered to me, and everything that I knew.” When he looked back up, he felt his heart sink into his stomach as he saw a few tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes, a ghost of a smile gleamed.

“Oh Spikey.” Even though he was trying to avoid he, he found himself unable to not envelop her in his arms. Silently, she wished that he would never let her go.

“I'm sorry.” Now it was his turn to let his true emotions show. The past few years of pent up frustration, of sadness, of bitter hatred pooled over. It was as if the floodgates had opened and allowed the water to flow. Tears fell from his eyes like twin rivers, separated until they met at his chin. “I left because I couldn't stand to hear what others said about you, about your business. I left for you, for Twilight, and for my mother.”

“What do you mean darling?” Rarity was perplexed as to what she or Twilight or Celestia had to do with anything.

“The week before I left I heard you talking with Twilight about how your business was failing. You had heard from Fancy Pants that he was one of the few who still bought from you because of the strong hatred towards dragons. They had found out that I was helping you and didn't want your products. It was the same things with Twilight. Nopony wanted to come to her whenever they knew I was around, and I was always around if I wasn’t helping you or Applejack or any of the other girls.”

“Darling, what you heard was just gossip that Fancy Pants had passed to me. I already knew why they didn't want to buy my products, but I was still able to get by. Besides, Fancy Pants had gotten me some clients from Saddle Arabia who were more than willing to buy from me, and they knew all about you. Even if they didn't approve, I wouldn't have cared. Spike, you are my best friend, nothing anypony says will ever change that. And I...” She grew silent, burying her head in his chest again, praying to Celestia for the strength to say what she should have years ago.

“I didn't want you to suffer because of me.” He brushed her mane from her face, raising her chin so that he could look her in the eyes. “I would do anything for my friends, even if that meant I had to leave for a while. I'm back now Rarity, and I'm not going anywhere.” They both smiled, once more embracing before he pulled away. “We should head down to the party now.”

“In a minute.” Her stern voice surprised him. “Spikey-Wikey,” she cooed, “would you be a dear and come watch the stars for a bit with me?” Blinking away his surprise at her fast transition in voice tone, he made his way to stand beside of her as he leaned against the railing, looking out towards the glimmering night sky. Like little fireflies caught in the black abyss, their glow radiated out in small flickers of light.

“Rarity, there is something that I need to tell you...” He paused, hesitant to continue, “but I'm afraid of what it would mean.” Rarity could detect the pain in his strained voice.

“What's wrong Spikey-Wikey? You know that you can tell me anything.”

“It's about while I was away.” He could see the flicker in her eyes. “I thought about you all the time. When I was working I thought about your face, and about how much you mean to me.”

“What are you saying Spikey?”

“I love you Rarity.”

“Spike? What's the matter?”

“Huh?” He shook his head as if clearing it of some vile, evil thought. “What?”

“You got lost there for a moment darling. You seemed happy though.” A sly grin crossed her lips, “Do you have even the slightest bit of gossip from your travels?”

He returned her grin with his own coy one. “Rarity, there is something that I have to tell you.” His grin faded slightly as he looked away from her towards the distant grassy fields, imagining the sensation of flight as his claws brushed against the tips of the blades. “One of the places I visited was a small village on the outskirts of the Pony Kingdom by the name of Cool Springs. It had only a handful of buildings. One reminded me of your boutique, and I reminded me of you.”

Gently, the drake slid his tail into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out a sealed envelope that he hoped wouldn't end in his demise. “I uh, got you a present, but you have to promise me something first.” He paused, awaiting for her to protest. After a couple seconds of silence, he continued, “Promise me that you won't open it until you get home.”

“I promise darling.” She performed the movements to the 'Pinkie Promise'. As if it was practiced, he slid the envelope from his pocket to her hands.

“During most nights, when I wasn't working, I would lie beneath a tree or somewhere in a field and would fall asleep every night watching the stars. It wasn't until I was in the Crystal Empire, and I was lying in the softest bed of flowers that I began to see you again. The stars would shape themselves into the faces of my friends, but always yours was the most prominent.” Another tear fell from his eye, but Rarity reached over to wipe it away. Still, he didn't face her. “I missed you so much that it ached. Rarity, I....” He was unable to continue.

Rarity looped her arm through his, pressing her lips against his cheek. “It's alright, I understand. You missed your best friend, but there is no reason to bring that up.” She snuggled up against him, rubbing her cheek against his. “You're here now darling, and that's all that matters.”

Spike tried to pull away, but she just tightened her embrace. “Rarity, I.....” Again he felt the words ready to burst out, but his mouth wouldn't open. “I'm sorry.” He whispered. Using his magic as an aide, he slipped from her grasp and headed towards the door. “I need to go, but please feel free to take as much time as you need m'lady.”

Just before he stepped away Rarity called out, “Spike! Wait!” It was too late however, he was already racing down the steps. When he reached the bottom he had to brush away his fresh tears. His breath came in raged gasps as he searched frantically around to make sure that he was utterly alone. His eyes caught sight of a small wash basin down the corridor beneath a crystallized mirror.

The drake's eyes burned as he dipped them beneath the cold water inside. A ring formed around the edge, dripping over whenever he would move around in the slightest. His wings clung close to his body, as though they were his mother's arms embracing him. A few moments past in utter silence. Spike yanked his head out of the water, spraying the floor in droplets of cold liquid as he gasped.

From somewhere in the distance he could hear the metallic clank of boots as the guards made their rounds. Each step was perfectly synchronized so as to disguise their number. He wiped away his tears as he stumbled down the adjacent corridor, disappearing into a small linen closet. Inside he wiped away the excess water and matted down his suit, making sure that he looked presentable. Taking a final breath, he departed the closet and began his long trek down the corridor.

Drifting from the main foyer of the castle was the soft musical taste of a classical pony: cellos, violins, a piano or two, and of course a flute, all performing in a union of melodies, were amplified by the long marble that concreted the floors and walls of the castle. They served to drown out his own footsteps, and those of his pursuer. Donning a small headpiece that had been tucked into the collar of his jacket, he stepped out of the darkness of the corridor and into the light of the foyer.

Below the balcony where he stood were numerous guests of honor: ponies, gryphons, zebras, and the two dragons he had seen before. They weren't hard to find, seeing as how the other guests seemed to avoid them as though they were a plague. Towards the center of the room was a circle stage with two layers, the first housing a grand piano with the second one housing separate chairs for the cellos, violins, and flute. Towards the back wall of the foyer, beneath the adjacent balcony, were the royal throne chairs, each one void of its occupant. When he glanced around, he found them nestled in at their royal table just out of sight of the party guests.

Spike easily made his way down towards them, unaware of his newly acquired friend stepping in with him. “There ya are lad. Afraid ya weren't gonna make it.” Spike jumped slightly, but calmed down when he saw it was Nightwing, his dark blue armor glowing in the light. “Be mindful of those two dragons over there lad. I heard them talking about some sort of plan earlier, couldn't be too sure though.” As swiftly as he had come the vampony was gone again, leaving Spike alone to enter the threshold that housed the royals.

“Ah Celestia, tis good to see you remember some secrets of old, eh? A tankered of this is worth all the gold in mine land.”

“I'm glad to see that this pleases you Lord Kendlar.” Spike pushed past the curtains to enter. A mixture of scents struck his nose all at once, almost blinding him. Firstly was the strong stench of twelve year old, rotting meat fused with stale ale, while the second was the amount of rose, lilac, and berry scented perfume that pervaded the mares. Gathered around the table was his mother at the head, with Princess Luna at the other. To either side of his mother were Princess Cadence and Twilight Sparkle, with two gryphons beside of Cadence. Two zebras were beside of Twilight, and Shining Armor was nowhere to be seen.

The gryphon who had spoken wore a simple robe made of fox fur and was cleanly preened. His wife, or so he assumed, was garbed in the same fashion, though in white fox furs instead. The zebras were garbed differently than he was used to seeing. The male, who he knew as chief Reznorag, wore his tribal feather cap with war paint beneath his eyes and a pair of golden yellow talons around his neck. Only a leather shirt and breeches adorned his figure. His mate, Furten, wore only a single pair of clothing, a tight fitting pair of golden leathery undergarments that stretched to half of her upper leg with a very small tight fitting chest guard.

Spike bowed to each of them in turn, finally casting his gaze to the ponies. His sister was garbed in a purple dress with amethyst attached to her color, her mane was tied back in a bun, and a pair of glasses were draped around her neck. His cousin was garbed in a darker purple dress with the amethyst woven into the sleeves, and a pair of white gloves on her hands, diamonds in the knuckles. Princess Luna was garbed in her regal night dress, though she wore her breastplate with the crescent moon symbol as well as her knee guards and boots.

His mother had to be the most regal one present. She adorned her favorite white dress, with twin sparkling topaz gems in the collar, and two more in the shoulders. Around her waist was her battle armor from almost a century ago, though fitted to fit her slightly more toned form. Over the center was her shinning sun symbol, as well as her sister's crescent moon beneath. From her radiated a sense of protection, and warmth. Bowing to her last, he spoke in a diligent and commanding tone, “Your guard as you requested m'lady.”

“Ah, there is thy sister's fairest guard. Come hither to us, we wish to sate our desire.” Spike did as he was asked. Luna ran a hand down his back, showing the other delegates that he was not a threat. “Tis a strong guard. We feel a twinge of jealousy towards our sister.”

“Luna, leave the poor guard alone.” Celestia fixed her gaze on her son, giving him a warm smile. “Leave us, but be sure to check back in an hour for a new assignment.” Spike nodded before departing. “Now, where were we Lord...”

Spike breathed out a sigh of relief as he brushed away from the royals. Already the strong stench from the gryphon was starting to vanish, replaced by the sweet scent of baked sweet treats and rotting meat. He gulped as he felt a presence behind him. Turning around, he found that it was the two dragons that he had seen walk in.

“Ah, little Spike. Been a long time since we've seen you.” The taller of the two spoke, his voice deeper than a rumbling cave. “Your grandfather is regretful that he had to kill you father, but after your mother corrupted him, he was left with no choice.” He smirked as the shorter one punched Spike lightly in the arm.

“Don't worry though, your time will come soon enough.” He turned to look at the taller one, winking. Spike noticed.

“So, Blunder and Boulder, two dragons of the moronic legion. To what do I owe such a ludicrous honor?” He smirked as the younger one grew angry, but the older just smirked back.

“Big talk from a prince, eh Spikey-Wikey.” Spike's eyes grew wide at the mention of his nickname reserved only for Rarity.

“Where did you hear that name?”

Boulder began to walk around the stunned dragon, Blunder soon following. “We've been watching you for a long time prince. Your grandfather promised us time away from the mines if we keep an eye on you.”

“Ya,” Blunder continued, “your grandfather made us a promise. And all we have to do is make sure that you keep your nose to yourself.”

“Don't think that we can't get to you Spike. Not your precious little mare toy nor mother are safe forever. Neither are you.” Spike was thankful that the music was loud enough to drown out their conversation. “You may think that in here you have power.” Spike stifled a gag when the shorter drake pressed his lips alongside his cheek, his voice in a low whisper. “None of these meat sacks are safe in here.” He spat. His breath was foul, smelling of rotting, salted pork and crisp, dried reed grass.

Finally, unable to stand the low tolerance of the drake any longer, Spike whirled around faster than the dragon could blink, grasping him by the throat. His razor sharp talons lightly pressed against the lighter armor of scales around his neck, a small trickle of blood escaping. “Listen to me good Blunder.” Spike's voice was threatening. A low growl emerged. “Leave while you still can.” The last word was accompanied by a short jet of green flame that would have singed the fur of any pony standing nearby.

“Spike? Lad, what are ya doing?”

“It's alright Nightwing, they're leaving. Right Blunder?” The drake only blinked in response, fear more prominent than anything else. Spike eased his grip, setting the shorter drake down. Thankfully nopony watching wanted to get involved, preferring to stand a good four feet away in a wide circle around the three.

Quickly, the two dragons darted away from the amethyst one. Spike laughed before he vanished amongst the crowd once more.

Spike ran a talon through his messy mane, the only pony feature that he had inherited from his mother, as he watched the party. From his high vantage point he was able to see everypony, and with his heightened vision, hearing, and sense of smell he could easily detect any traces of deceit among the mass.

The faint tint of vanilla wafted into his nose. Though he had a job to do, he couldn't help but sigh as he whirled around to face the very mare whom he had left alone, and crying in his room. “Rarity, I'm sorry for running out like that. My memories from before were t-too much.”

He turned back towards the party, eyes scanning every patron. “Spike.” Her voice cooed. She was gentle with her hands as she laid them upon his back. She couldn't help but feel upset when he tensed beneath her touch.

“Sorry.” A small smile snaked its way across her lips as she felt the muscles relax.

“Spike, it's alright. I just wanted to tell you something.” She moved to stand at his side, letting her perfume assail his nose. “I was wondering actually if you wanted a job?” Spike blinked, but remained otherwise unmoved. “Starting tomorrow night if you wanted. It would be at the boutique, with me.” She sighed when he remained as still as a statue, albeit the occasional twirl of his eyes as he glanced around the room. “Just think about it.”

He released an uneasy breath with her departure. Although he would have loved nothing more than to speak with her, he knew better. Spike was a dragon who was always focused on his job, and tonight was no exception. Steadying his hearing, he searched the crowd for any unusual conversations.

He did not have to wait long. Towards the back of the party was a small alcove with a table inside. On either side sat three ponies, speaking in a tongue that he could only assume was foreign. “Nightwing, I think I may have something.”

“What is it lad?”

“Towards the back, in that small alcove. Six ponies are speaking some foreign tongue.”

“That's not unusual.”

Spike looked closer at their faces. Something glimmering from them caught his eye. He watched for a few moments as they continued to talk, their speech sounding like nails on a chalkboard. It was the white wisp of smoke that escaped one pony's cheek, and the changing from golden yellow to jet black, back to golden yellow that stood out. Shortly after, his wings changed from feathered to a thin membrane both spiny, and a turquoise color, then back to gold feathers.

“Nightwing, Code Yellow, I repeat, Code Yellow. They are changelings.”

“Ah Celestia!” There was a pause. “Corporal Henderson, get over there to speak with them, I'm on my way.” Spike glanced towards where Nightwing was, watching as he flew down to the alcove to speak with the pony who had shifted form.

“Code Red! Code Red!” Screams erupted from the crowd as the guard was thrown across the room, getting impaled on a spike that was protruding from the wall. Blood dripped down onto a few ponies below before they were smart enough to move out of the way. Nightwing was left alone, fighting the six changeling ponies that had been in the alcove.

Spike was about to help when more screams erupted. One by one various officials changed form into changelings. He cursed as he jumped over the railing, searching for any of the guards. The ponies trampled over each other as they made a mad dash for the exits, creating a chaos that gave the changelings perfect cover to take on new forms and escape.

In the ensuing chaos, Spike was relieved to see a guard make his way over towards him, but was killed by a dagger to the throat from a changeling. Growling low in his throat, Spike backed away from the crowd, unsure of who he could trust. “Spike!!!”

“Rarity!” Spike heard her cries, but was unable to locate her. Knowing what he had to do, the drake dove into the fury. His eyes were searching as he swept past the ponies with ease. A few changelings passed him by. One tried to slice him atop his head, but was killed by a quick fist to the leg followed by his claws across the changeling's chest.

“Spike!” The drake turned around, only to find four changelings converging upon him. A smirk danced across their veil lips.

The first one dove at him with its dagger drawn, poised to kill. Spike sidestepped the blow and went straight for the second one, grasping his arm and breaking it before whirling around and placing three blows to the spine. The changeling dropped down, dead. The fourth one fled, while the first and third descended.

Spike wasted no time in breaking the neck of the third one and dispatching the first one with a well timed blow to the forehead. The fourth one that had run away before came back with eight more in total.

Spike danced across the field of battle, ponies running around him as he dispatched each changeling with ease. For everyone that he killed however, it seemed that two more took its place. During his fray he became aware that the mass of ponies and nobles had lessened until only the changelings were left.

Nightwing had joined the dragon, and together with two other guards, they fought off the changelings. Blood coated the floor, bodies began to pile atop each other, and in the haze of the battle, everything was a blur for the dragon. Caked flesh clung to his claws, blood dripping from his teeth, and the smell of charred bodies was marred by the sensation of savagery.

Beside of him, one of the two guards fell, a dagger protruding from his chest. The second one was decapitated by a sword, which nearly caught Spike off guard. The tip sliced through his scaled shoulder. Blood beginning to ooze out in a small trickle. Spike gritted his teeth as the sword came back around and left a long slit along the back of his leg, followed closely by the pommel thrown against his nose. A sickening crunch was heard, blood flowed.

Kneeling down, it was all Spike could do to not faint. He could barely hear Nightwing screaming at him from across the room, tearing apart his foes with ease. His teeth would latch onto the throat of one changeling while his hands would grasp another and snap their neck or tear open their skull.

Roaring loudly, Spike rose to his feet again, facing all nine of his assailants. In the blink of an eye, his emerald flames engulfed three of them, their screams of pain echoing in the bloodied foyer. Three of the changelings moved around his flank, while the other three spread out so that he would have to flame each one without getting another.

Enraged, the amethyst drake swung out with his arms, catching two changelings on the tips of his talons. Yanking back, they collided head first before dropping to the ground, dying only when he stepped on their throats. Leaving only four left, Spike dropped to his good knee and swept his tail across the floor, tripping them.

Moving swiftly, the drake lurched towards the nearest assailant, using the dagger from the changeling's belt to pierce his heart, listening to his dying screams. From there he flew across the small gap that separated him from the other three to engulf one in a raging inferno of flames. The third he used his talons to tear out his lungs.

By now the final changeling was on his legs, ready to fight. Spike danced around with him, moving forward then back, watching, alert, ready to kill. By subtle shifts and faint grimaces, the changeling could see that the dragon was wounded deeply, that at any moment his adrenaline would fail him and he would come crashing down.

Thinking quickly, the changeling surged forward, acting as if he was going to tackle the dragon. Sidestepping him at the last second, he whirled around to draw his dagger, stabbing it into the drakes left shoulder after managing to slice through his forearm and neck. When the drake turned he went to slit at his face, but his hand was caught by the drake. Though the dagger was twisted so that he was able to at least leave a small slit above the drake's eye, the changeling never backed down, even when his arm was broken outwards.

Spike took the dagger from the floor and, using it, drove it into the changeling's leg, followed by a swift strike to the knee, a blow to the face, and finally, driving the dagger straight through his skull, shattering it when he smashed into into the stained floor. A bellowing roar of victory followed his triumph with the fall of the final assailant. As he came down from his surging high however, he felt queasy, molested, and utterly shameful.

He fell to his knees, letting loose the blood and flesh that he had managed to swallow out across the entire floor. Bile coated the inside of his mouth as he looked around. There were at least forty dead bodies surrounding the foyer, some where torn apart, others looked whole, some charred. The smell of crimson blood, the lure of burning flesh and fur, even the faintest scent of vanilla made him want to faint.

Vanilla? “Rarity!” Spike felt the power return to his limbs as he surged forward, searching for the mare whom he had hoped escaped. His trained eyes glanced around the room as he searched for her, worry and regret building up inside of him. “Rarity!”

“Spi...” Her voice, though faint, was enough to locate her. Diving over a pile of charred bodies, he shoved three dead changelings off of the mare, letting his heart sink into his feet as he beheld the love of his life. Blood soaked her normally perfect, pristine silvery-white coat of fur. He slipped a hand beneath her head, another beneath her back, raising her up.

Tears fell from his eyes as he trudged towards the stairs. “It's alright now Rarity. I'm here.” He whispered. Again he roared, but this time it was a saddening tone, a roar of pain. “Mother!” He roared in dragon, hoping that she would respond in kind.

Nightwing fell in step beside of the drake, looking over the mare with interest. He sprinted ahead of the two. Where he was headed Spike couldn't tell, but at the moment he could care less. Fatigue struck the drake like a chord of firewood to the head, his eyes dropping and his leg collapsing. Falling to one knee, he grit his teeth and took the pain, rising once more to continue.

He took only three more steps before he fell to the floor, Rarity sliding out of his grasp. He pulled himself over to her, determined to protect her, even if he didn't have the strength to do so. As he grew closer, he couldn't help but smell his own blood that coated her fur. Pushing that thought aside, he stopped only when he was close to her face. Licking his lips, he used his good hand to brush away a loose lock of her mane. “Rarity...”

The drake felt a surge of courage wash over him. Gulping, he moved his face close to hers, his lips brushing hers. “I love you Rarity...” Spike pressed his lips against the mare's. It was like a series of fireworks had been ignited. Along his lips he could feel a tingling sensation, and no matter how hard he tried, it stayed. Butterflies fluttered around the meadow that was his stomach, and his wings shot straight out behind him.

Emerald eyes watched the resting face of the beautiful silvery-white unicorn. A single scaled hand brushed her cheek as he placed two more kisses upon her cheeks, tiny whispers of his love for her. He rolled over onto his back, staring at the swirling ceiling above. Though he tried to fight, his eyes eventually fell shut, sleep taking him, but not before hearing her whisper, “I love you too Spikey-Wikey...”