This work of fan fiction contains characters, ideas, situations, and places found in the Hasbro Studios series "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic". No infringement of copyright is implied by this work of satire and parody, and this work is meant as a celebration of the people involved in the creation, development, and production of the series.
"The Talk"
Written by The Descendant
Chapter 1
Tiny pellets of frozen ice drove against the windows and walls of the homes and shops of Ponyville.
The wind drove them, beat them against the structures with a rattling rhythm that sent those within closer to the heat of their fires and deeper into the warming embraces of their loved ones.
For some, there was no such respite.
Out in the market square the sleeting drizzle was parted by something unseen, and as a pale blue filament of light wrapped around within itself it suddenly exploded outwards in an orb of illumination that revealed the outlines of two figures.
"…and why do we need sleet anywho?" asked Spike, pulling the straps of his backpack tighter to him, already walking away as he winced against the sleet that drove against his face. "And why can't someponies bother to check the weather schedule before they plan big get-togethers?" he said, looking back across his shoulder with a sneer, completing a thought he'd been hiding since the miserable afternoon had begun.
His gaze fell across an older unicorn stallion. He too stood there, turning his face to shield it from the driving drizzle. He opened one eye and regarded Spike sorrowfully as he sighed.
Spike turned fully, looked at him with a falling expression.
"Sorry…"
"I, I understand Spike…it didn't go well," he said, "We failed to adequately prepare ourselves for the situation…and, the pegasi do need to practice every sort of weather, I suppose."
The older stallion straightened himself, looked to Spike as the white pellets began to collect in his graying beard and mane. "We…we will see you at the next Summoner's Gathering, Spike? We will, won't we?"
"Yeah," said Spike, "sure."
The two stood there staring at one another, trembling as the frigid droplets began to melt upon them.
"You, you are happy…being assigned to Miss Sparkle, Spike? You are happy, aren't you?" asked the stallion, getting to the very heart of the matter, fighting to keep his eyes open as the wind once more blew the shards of ice across his face.
Spike smiled up to him even as he pulled the backpack closer to himself, shaking against the cold.
"More than you can imagine," he said, his expression brightening even as he shivered. The stallion smiled back at him, the relief across the deeply lined face of the aged unicorn evident even as he blinked and the traces of white grew in his beard.
"You couldn't have flashed me right into the library?" said Spike with a trembling chuckle, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb towards the tree on the far edge of the square.
"A gentlecolt," said the unicorn, lifting himself up, becoming the imposing and gentile figure he had once been for one small flicker of a moment, "doesn't enter a mare's abode without being announced!"
He then let out his breath, deflating into the kind, old gentle figure Spike had always known.
With that they bowed to one another, trembling even more as the cold and wet crossed their backs.
"Good afternoon, Summoner Spike."
"Good afternoon, Lord Protector."
As the unicorn flashed away Spike ran across the market square, slipping where the sleet had begun to form into long lines and hid the wet leaves beneath.
Within moments he had burst through the door of the library, heading straight through the main space and directly into the warmth and reception he'd receive in the alcove he and Twilight shared.
"I'm back early!" he called, "The Gathering sucked!"
He looked up to see two cups on the table. Odd. He dropped the sopping wet backpack right next to the door in exactly the way he knew he wasn't supposed to. His mind though was set on the fireplace, and as the smells of his home wafted over him its heat flew up into his small frame.
"They held it outside and it started to sleet," he said, rolling his eyes, looking around to find Twilight, "so they can…can…cancelled…"
His eyes found her, settled upon her as she stood on the stairs.
As she looked back at him in surprise he realized that another figure had entered their little home…
…that the somber tones of a stallion were juxtaposed there on the steps against her beautiful, familiar coat…
…that she was leading Caramel up those stairs…
…to the bedroom.
The bedroom.
Silence reigned in the library, appropriately enough, for all of about four seconds. As it did a realization, one both powerful and terrible, fell across the little dragon whelp.
Oh Celestia!
Oh Luna!
"I'm sorry!" called Spike, leaping backward, thudding against the table, making the two cups clatter on their saucers.
"I'm sorry!" he called again, falling across his own wet backpack, his feet fighting for traction as he skidded across the cold pool that had formed beneath it.
"Spike…"
"I'm sorry!" he said, clattering on all fours, the whelp scampering out through the library proper. He leapt at the door, let out a long great huff of emotion, fought with the knob.
"Spike!"
Her call did not reach him. With a single sob he had already pelted once more out into the cold, leaving the door wide open as he sped off into the sleet that howled up the market square.
Fifteen minutes earlier, a decidedly different atmosphere had held dominion over the interior of the library.
Twilight looked up to the window as she waited for the kettle to boil. The mare hummed softly as the sleet rattled the panes of her kitchen window. "Brrr!" she said aloud, looking out to where it gathered in long white strips across the square.
She hoped somepony had the sense to have moved the Summoner's Gathering someplace warm. She frowned at the thought of Spike once more sneezing and miserable, wrapped in a borrowed bathrobe and slippers as he fought another cold.
As the tea simmered she carried both cups out into the center of the living room in her magic…out to where the stallion sat upon the floor.
"Thank ya' kindly," said Caramel, lifting the teabag from the cup, laying it upon the saucer.
She smiled in reply as she lowered herself to the floor …
…as he moved his toolbox to make room for her so that she could see what he had been working at for the last half of an hour.
"The edges were dovetailed, so, unless ya' could get a good fix on 'em it woulda' been hard to set 'em back in place," he said, motioning to where the new eaves of the table stood ready for service.
Twilight stood, put her hoof to her face. It had been so simple. "Well," she said, laughing at herself, "That was a bit of a goof on my part…huh?"
"Well," he replied, laughing a polite laugh, "Maybe just a little one, I'd say, but I do appreciate the business, Miss Twilight."
"How is the hoofycolt business coming along Caramel? Is it working out?" she asked as he put his tools back into the box.
"Jack o' all trades," he answered with a smile, "master o' none…it's nice tah' be savin' up a few extra bits though. I don't like livin' off of the Apple's, sleepin' in their barn…should have enough saved up in a few weeks tah' get an apartment."
The sleet drove against the large window overhead, the cold sound sending chills through both of them even as they stood before the fire.
"I ain't lookin' forward towards goin' back out inta that!" he said, finishing his tea.
A thought flew through Twilight.
"Actually, I might have one more job for you."
He looked back up to her happily.
"Spike's bed…I'd like to get him a new one, have one made for him. A 'big boy bed' rather than the old basket he's been sleeping in…is that something you'd be able to do, or even willing?"
"I certainly reckon so!" he said, fishing through his toolbox once more, "Let me get some measurements and I'll write ya' up an estimate…"
Together they made for the stairs, up to where the basket lay. As they went Twilight grinned at the though of what a nice surprise it would be for her Number One Assistant.
Quite the surprise…
Together they stood there as the sound of the door opening reached them.
Together they stood there as Spike began to talk, seeming not to notice them.
Together they stood there as Spike's eyes had found them and then went wide, as the color dropped out of him, as she called to him as he fell across the room begging for forgiveness…as he flew back out into the cold.
Twilight looked around, looked up and down, tried to figure out what could have scared him so…what had upset him.
She saw nothing, there was nothing there in the little quiet house except for Caramel and herself…
…as she lead the colt up the stairs…
…to the bedroom!
Oh Celestia!
Oh Luna!
Quite the surprise…
Her eyes went even wider as she looked back to Caramel, the stallion himself seemingly alarmed by the dragon's response.
"What…what's wrong with the Spikinator?" he said, looking up to her. As he did her expression filled him. She saw the dawning realization cross his face, saw him look down to the stairs…up them to her bed beyond…
"Oh Celestia! Oh Luna!" called the stallion, quickly backing down the stairs, his hooves clattering as he missed the last few. "You don't think he thought that…I mean…not that there's anything wrong…but, I didn't mean tah' scare…I mean I'd be honored if…"
"Out."
"Right! Right…" he replied, quickly gathering up his tools and jacket. Twilight was already standing at the door by the time he was ready, already wrapping a long scarf around herself as she stared out into the brutal scene of the sleeting afternoon. As the wafts of purple magic enwrapped her she gathered a second scarf from the closet.
"I'm so sorry 'bout that…do, do you want me tah' help ya' look for him?" he said, a pained look across his face.
"No…no, I…I need to be the one to find him," she said, sighing.
Caramel nodded, trotted out into the cold. As he did he turned to her. "If yer' still interested in that bed, please don't be afraid tah' let me know…after things, settle a bit…"
She nodded at him, watched until he had passed around the corner, and then she too plunged out into the drizzle to search for her summoner. The door thudded behind her, the sound of its bell being swallowed by the wet air.
He ran on all fours for as long as he could, until the splattering slush that leapt out of the puddles with each stride began to wash up his legs, reaching his chest and armpits, each new step bringing a fresh agony. He rose up onto his hind legs, tried his best to wipe away the water.
"Stupid!" he called out. "That was so stupid! Why did I do that!?" he called up to the clouds. He put his hands alongside his head, looked down, his eyes following the angle of the sleet as it fell from the sky.
He rubbed the back of his hands across his eyes, took a deep long breath. At once the vision leapt back at him, and a new one, and he went to the ground. He stood in the sleet on three limbs, his right hand across his stomach as pains like shots of acid staggered around within him.
He began shaking again…the cold across his scales deadening him to all but the uncertainty that grew behind his eyes and the pain that shot through his guts.
He'd…he'd need a place to stay that night. He had to get inside…it was already so cold.
His eyes looked to distant Carousel Boutique, but the absence of flags and the darkened windows dashed that small hope.
He hopped, crossed his arms in front of him, as he looked up and down the empty square. He blinked his eyes against the sleet, and as he did the lights in the rooms above a familiar building caught his attention.
He took two steps forward…but soon stopped. No. There was no refuge for him in Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie had always shown him so much concern, friendship. She'd be afraid for him, wish to know why he was out in the cold…she would get it out of him, just as she had gotten him to lie to her for a few diamonds to snack upon.
He couldn't do that. He couldn't betray Twilight.
Plus, he realized, he'd probably have to sleep in the tub with Gummy. That thought alone was enough to send him hopping around, once more panning the streets as he forced his eyes open against the driving sleet.
It was so cold, so cold.
No…no, there were none of her friends, their friends, he could go to. Even if he could make it down the long roads to Fluttershy's, or even Sweet Apple Acres, they too would worry about him. They would work at him, he feared, try to get him to talk about why he was so upset. They too would work it out of him. No matter how much he wanted to protect her, they would succeed. Then, no matter how good their intentions, the whispers would begin…
Then would come the rumors, then the assumptions, the "common knowledge". And…and from that, he feared, knew, would come the stallions on the street corners. They would call to her like she was some kind of animal…an animal to be fetched, herded…talking to her like that, using those words…
This perfect nightmare flew through him, beat him across the head…drove the pains through his stomach once more. As the sleet whipped about him he covered his eyes, the tears pouring now, dripping out of him as he imagined her walking through the streets with her head down. As she walked past them mares put their hooves over their mouths and spoke to each other in loud whispers and with malicious smiles. He imagined her walking further, her eyes wet, as a stallion called out, "Hey, Sparkle, if ya' spread 'em for Caramel how about…"
Spike fell to his knees, shook his head against these horrors, these fears that bit at him with thousands of tiny teeth and as new needles of pain went through his guts. He rubbed his eyes, no longer able to tell the wetness of his own tears from the melting drizzle that pelted him.
It was so very cold, so cold.
His mind spun as his shaking got worse, as his arms naturally drawing tight to him, wrapping himself against the cold.
For one small second he imagined sneaking back into the library, huddling by the door to their little rooms or even opening it a crack so that the warmth would wash out over him. The familiar scents and sounds of home reached him in a happy vision as the sleet melted upon him, finding the traces of the lines of his scales.
At once though the thought that Caramel might still be there reared up at him. The idea of what he might then hear, see…smell, these drove the thoughts of returning home far from him.
It was so cold…so, cold. His shaking was evident now, causing his shoulders to lift. He had to find warmth.
But, if he couldn't go home, where could he go?
No…who could come to him!
Spike tottered across the square to a garbage can. There he peered into it as best he could, gingerly grabbing out the least disgusting bit of paper he'd found. He held it close to himself, shielding it against the rain of ice as he went across to a familiar applecart.
As he dove beneath it he reached along the sill of the applecart, reaching up to where he had seen Applejack lay the pencil. The closed cover fought, just a touch too tight for even the arm of a baby dragon.
He forced it deeper, his numb fingers feeling for the pencil even as the cover scraped him. He felt it jump, grabbed for it, and pulled his arm out even as it scratched at his scales.
He lay beneath the cart, sucking softly on his cuts, as he trembled and shook. The bag of Mairzy Doats, ripped open and laid across the underside of the cart, became his stationery.
As the wind whistled past and the sleet continued to come down he lifted the pencil…but stopped. Who…who could he trust to come fetch him? Who wouldn't ask the questions?
No one in the nursery, he thought, as the fears of a child once more went through him. If he called out to one of those unicorns, to the Lord Protector, there would be questions, inquiries, committees, concerns for his well-being…reassignment.
He flipped over, more pains going through his stomach in puncturing darts of acidic shock. He spun around, cried aloud. Reassignment. Taken from her. Ripped away from her! Oh Celestia, oh Luna, reassignment…the sum of all his most tangible and powerful fears!
So cold…
He was shaking all over now, even his tail twitching in reflexive want and wish for heat.
He sat up, wrapped himself into a ball in an attempt to fight the cold.
Ball…playing with a ball.
Playing with Cadence! His mind's eye focused on Cadey, the younger whelp grasping his arms and leading him through the Summoner's Gathering before the sleet had begun, asking him to help her get the ball…asking to play with him.
He remembered the familiar face of Starfall, her designate, flashing in to gather her up as the sleet began. The stallion's blindness could not hide the kind look that lived behind his eyes, his understanding. Yes…yes!
"Dear Starfall…" he scratched, his trembling hands fighting to make the words.
"Please come help me, please. Spike." That was all he needed to write. Then, then everything would be fine…everything would be fine. Starfall and Cadey would flash in and they would go back to their rooms in Canterlot and everything would be fine…just fine…
Just…just write the words. Please, hands, stop trembling…just make the words…
The wind whistled, rumbled, shook the market square as it seemingly blew the sleet sideways. As it did the sleet rippled across the paving stones of the square with a cascading sound…
…and tearing the snack food bag, Spike's plea for help, out of his grasp.
Spike looked to where it had been for a long moment, the pencil falling from his trembling claws.
He spun, reached for the bag…but it was already gone, blown far out into the park and pond beyond.
He lay there, beneath the cart for a good long while, with his arm out in an appeal for it to return. But, it did not.
"Why," he asked the market square as his teeth chattered and he retracted his arm, as he wrapped himself into a smaller ball, "do we need sleet anywho?"
A deep noise reached him over the top of the wind and the crackling of the ice upon the stones. It was a resonant tone, yet familiar, and Spike's eyes went wide with alarm as he realized what it meant.
"No! Owlicious! Please…" Spike said, rolling over himself, peeking his nose out from beneath the cart.
The owl sent his call out into the cold again as Spike looked for him, the hoot of the bird surprisingly deep and clarion, echoing across the cold stones.
"Owlicious, please, I've…I've caused her enough trouble…I, I don't want to…" said a chattering, trembling Spike, his nose just barely visible to the owl who sat above him on the cart.
Once more the call of his avian counterpart sounded out, and to it came a reply…the reply of the dearest and most familiar voice in the world.
The one he least wanted to hear at that moment.
"No, please…be a bro, please…" he asked the bird as the hoof falls came nearer. Spike closed his eyes and trembled as he heard the familiar hooves come to a stop.
He opened his eyes and found himself looking into hers as she peered beneath the cart, her vast purple eyes looking upon him with an expression of relief, concern…and disappointment.
The afternoon had been a disaster.
As Twilight wafted her magic over him she both scooped the trembling, chattering form of her little baby dragon whelp from beneath the cart and wrapped him in the spare scarf.
She passed some more magic over him, using her own living essence to move the heat from her body to his. Yet, even as his trembling stopped and he unfolded himself to stand beside her he was silent, not looking at her.
She sighed to herself, lowered her body so that he could climb up. To her surprise he recoiled.
She extended her hoof so that he could grab it, she herself suddenly feeling a desperate need to be in contact with her summoner.
Instead he danced the tips of his fingers across her leg to her shoulder, keeping her at a distance. As they began to walk, Owliscious swooping back and forth slowly overhead, she wondered about this. Did he think she'd become someone else? Did he think she was somehow…dirty?
She sighed to herself. A disaster, an utter disaster. She could start explaining now, as they walked, she could tell him that nothing had happened. But, she knew, it would sound like an excuse. He'd have to see the evidence for himself…and right now the best thing might be for the three of them to walk and fly silently in the cold.
She would show him this, let him know that nothing had changed…that nothing had happened. And then, calmly, patiently, and without emotion she would tell him that it was none of his damn business if it had.
There was fear in him, and Twilight strained to think of what to do next. There, there must be some way to take all of his confusion, the pain and fear she sensed in him, and turn this whole episode into something constructive…useful.
Suddenly, as she slid across the paving stones that were slick with sleet and wet leaves, she realized that there was.
As she sensed his cold clawed hand still upon her, she realized that there might be a way to salvage this yet, to make something positive come from this whole unhappy incident…to address the fears that she guessed, worried, were driving at him.
It was time for The Talk.
"The Talk"
Written by The Descendant
Chapter 2
Owliscious settled onto his perch on the far side of their living space.
As he worked at his wings, forcing the melting sleet from the down, he kept one ear and one eye on the figures of Twilight and Spike. They moved about wordlessly, slowly putting the wet scarves across the hearth, the sound of their hooves and clawed feet sounding out above the crackling of the fire.
The owl looked at Twilight, saw her looking at Spike with a distant, worried contemplation. He spun his head to look at Spike, saw him avoiding her gaze, moving sheepishly.
An understanding flew through the bird, and he slowly but certainly hid his face from their view and attempted to doze. In that moment the bird was very happy for his Equestrian animal intellect…that he was smart enough to understand, comprehend, even if he was unable to articulate.
At least, the owl realized, that meant that he didn't have to give the baby dragon The Talk.
Twilight took a deep breath, and spun to face Spike.
She let it out in a long "pfffffttttt" of spittle, misspent energy, and lost determination as the bathroom door silently clicked shut.
She went before the fire, watched the vapor rise off of the scarves. There was nothing to do now but plan. She restated her assumptions, that Spike had been scared out of the library because he believed, erroneously…very erroneously, that she and Caramel were about to partake in a biological act.
She laid out her plan once more in her mind, the one that had begun to form in the sleeting drizzle as they made their way back to their little home across the slippery stones.
One, show him the evidence and let him draw his own conclusions. Two, get him to state his assumptions. Three…the hard one, explain the context, function, purpose and every squishy little detail of the said act so that he was no longer afraid of it and had a frame of reference. That he would know the risks and rewards.
Her head swam for a bit. She wondered about perhaps finding something to add to her tea that would be a bit more bracing. She decided against it.
Four…no, four was the hard one, she realized, the one he'd have the hardest time dealing with. Four, let him know plainly that this was her body, and what she did with it was her own decision. She was a logical, thinking creature who knew the risks, and would make her own decisions…
…just as she now hoped he would be equipped to do.
Her head swam again. That had been hard for her to think about, surprisingly hard…that the little baby dragon whelp she'd lifted from a basket in the nursery would someday…
She looked to the kitchen to see if there was something more bracing to be had.
She ran through The Talk as her parents had given it to her, rolled her eyes as she remembered the parts they'd stuttered through, rehearsed the lines in her head. The fire crackled and she stared at the bathroom door. No. It's time.
"Spike?" she said, lifting herself and crossing over to the door, words fluttering through their home for the first time since they'd returned, "Didja' fall in?"
"My tummy hurts," came his reply, softly, through the thick door.
Oh Celestia, oh Luna, it just gets better.
"Spike, if you can, please come out. We, we need to talk about, about…"
Ovaries. Urethra. Plateau phase. Fallopian tubes. Zygotes. Trimesters. Afterbirth.
"…something."
She turned as the sound of water in the sink reached her, listened as the door came open and little clawed feet made their way across the wooden floor to the carpet behind her.
She turned to look at him as he stood there before the fire in his typical face of worry, rubbing his hands up and down his opposite arms, barely looking at her as the light from the fire fell over him. Overhead the grey skies offered little light, and the sound of the sleet beating at the windows made up the background noise of the conversation that unfolded.
"Spike," she said, lifting her hoof from where she had laid, pointing to the table, "What do you notice about our table?"
He slowly turned his head, examined it as it caught the light of the fire. "You…you got the eaves in…" he stated hesitantly.
"No," she said, softly, "Caramel did…"
She waited while he stopped wincing.
"Caramel has a handyhoof business Spike! He was here for more than half of an hour. He worked on the table, and then we had some tea. He was about to leave when I said that I had one more job he might like to consider…"
Spike looked up to her with a growing awareness across his features.
"I asked him if he could make you a bed, Spike. I wanted to surprise you with a brand new 'big boy bed'…we were going upstairs so he could measure your basket…Spike, Spike…nothing…"
"Oh Twilight! I'm sorry!" he said, falling to his knees, his eyes watering. As his hands covered his mouth she blinked in surprise, his reaction startling her. "I…I didn't think, I just…just saw the two of…you, and I…I felt, it hurt…and I ran…I, I thought…that…you…you were…"
She forced her expression to soften, watched as his hands went back over his mouth. She sat, waited, as he blushed. Blushing is fine. Embarrassment is fine. It's just as natural as the act he was struggling to put into words, she thought. Embarrassment, she realized, is fear's first cousin. It tells us that this is important, this matter is important, pay attention.
"I thought that you were…gonna…" he said, his face going a stark crimson as he hid behind his hands.
Go ahead, Spike, she thought as she forced her face to become softer, say the word. It's okay…I won't get mad. String together the three little letters, make the word that has brought every creature you've ever met into reality. Let it just come out…the word that has brought so much pleasure and pain, so much joy and heartache. It's okay…I won't get mad, she told herself, let's talk about this.
At once something thudded against Twilight's thoughts…a horrible feeling. As she looked at him as he struggled memories flooded her mind of him playing in the sandbox in Canterlot, his laughter as they went together through the Ponyville streets, as she tucked him in at night. Will that change, the way she sees him, and he her, if they have this talk?
She forced herself not to startle, but suddenly she realized why all the other stories…the happy little lies about magic mirrors that foals come through, she realized why they exist. They exist so that things don't have to change.
She leaned forward a little bit, nodded to him. Different parts of her wavered inside her back and forth both in anticipation and worry over his reply.
He opened his little clawed hands, exposing his mouth, took a tiny breath.
"Do grown-up stuff," he said swiftly, instantly shutting his claws back once more over his face, going even redder.
She breathed a quiet sigh, closed her eyes and opened them gently. An excellent compromise, she thought. Well played. I love you.
One and two were done…easy enough. Now, now came the hard ones.
Twilight let a vision enter her mind. She decided to construct a metaphor, one that appeared more like an old time political cartoon than a mental image. Inside her own thoughts she saw 46,000 little copies of herself forming into ranks. They were as soldiers, an entire division, and their armor was labeled "Determination", and their weapons were "Understanding", "Reasoning", and "Factual Information".
She set them to marching, and as these thousands of tiny Twilight Sparkles marched they set their eyes upon the figure of a tiny castle. On it's ramparts an armor-clad Spike sat defiantly with a spear labeled "Misconception", the flag above him reading "Ignorance".
Okay, girls, time to storm the castle. Have fun.
"Spike," said Twilight, factually, "When a bee collects pollen from a flower, she takes it to the next…"
Before she had even finished the sentence she witnessed Spike's features change entirely. He went from the retreating figure of an uncomfortable little boy back to his more harsh, judgmental stare.
"Really?" he said, his voice cracking, "That's where you're gonna go with this?"
She stared at him blankly, and he bounced back from her a little, raising his hands in deference.
"Oh, okay…just, just skip ahead to stuff with backbones…"
In her mind the metaphor witnessed her skirmishers being thrown back, some scared off by large cartoonish alligators in the moat. Her own face fell down a shade as she moved to continue on.
"When, when a mommy and a daddy want to have a baby…" she began.
"No," he said, resting his head against his chest, tilting it so that he looked down at the carpet at an angle. He had become quiet, both of his earlier appearances giving way to something more fragile. This wasn't going as she had planned.
"No," he continued, "They don't need to be trying to make a baby. They don't even need to be married."
Twilight sucked in a sharp breath. In her metaphor her first few brigades were thrown back…retreating in a panic through the rest of her ranks that looked on nervously. She looked at him, part of her trying to understand how a frank explanation of basic biology had somehow become a debate.
He looked up at her, wiped his hands across his face. "Twi," he said, pointing out the door of their living space, "We live in a library…a library Twi. The books in the section next to the clock…third shelf. I know where all the books are here…you know that. I'm, I'm your Number One Assistant."
Her mind raced across the library, saw a stand of books…remembered their titles and purpose.
Oh Celestia, oh Luna…reproductive biology, relationship guides!
Oh Celestia, oh Luna…some of those were fully illustrated! Color photographs!
The color drained out of Twilight as he looked at her like he'd just admitted something he was ashamed of, as his expression fell down and he went to the floor as though he expected to be punished.
But she couldn't…wouldn't even if she hadn't been trying to explain all of this. Her metaphorical troops marched forward hesitantly as she loaded her last bolt…
"When, when a stallion and a mare love each other very much?" she found herself asking.
"No!" he called out in a pained shriek. At once he slapped at the carpet with both hands, rose up, spun on her with the flush going back over his face, "No, don't fib to me! It went really bad when I fibbed to you, so don't do it to me!"
"Spike…" she whispered, her color now fully dropping out of her, her eyes going wide.
"They don't need…need to love each other! They barely even need to…to know each other! That's why I was so scared, be…because Caramel doesn't love you! I…I was afraid he might be one of them!" he cried, holding his arms close to himself, choking through the sentences.
"Spike," she asked again as a great and powerful dragon began to emerge from the castle her metaphorical troops had been advancing upon, "Who…who…"
"One of the…the colts!" he said, choking, "One of the colts who…who stand on the street corners when I'm doing our shopping, or when I'm out for a walk."
Her hoof went to her mouth.
"I…hear how they talk about fillies. What they want to do to them…how they want to treat them. Treat…treat them like animals, just something…something to be used…" he said, beginning to shake, literally trembling.
Part of Twilight wanted to rise up right now and leap across the way to him, gather him up. Yet, another part, the calm part, knew that he wanted to express something…something that the young dragon whelp, the little boy, was struggling to articulate. Tears came to his eyes as he continued.
"I…I don't get everything they say…but…"
She made a mental note to definitely take more care to observe who he was around during the day.
"When I hear how…how they act, how they talk about some mares…how they laugh as they say what they did to them…" he stood, turned to her, his eyes streaming, "If I ever heard one of them…talk about you…you…like, like that…I think it would kill me, I think it would kill me, Twi!"
His arms wrapped tighter around his stomach, almost doubling him up in a very real and very palpable pain as he stood before her. She wanted to leap to him, wrap him in a hug, rock him over and over and make little sounds of reassurance. Yet, the logical part of her kept her there, looking up to him, knowing that he must be allowed to express his fears…the fears of a child for his…well, whatever she was to him.
"It hurts! It hurts my tummy to even think about one of them…just using you, anypony ever just seeing you as…a toy! It hurts like getting shots right in my tummy! Oh, Twi, it hurts!" he said, wincing, wrapping his arms tighter to his stomach, clamping his eyes shut as the tears started again.
Twi felt her own eyes watering, witnessing the horrible majesty of this, his great fear. Inside her mind her metaphorical troops began melting away, their manes on fire in a comedic way, some with "X's" in their eyes and tongues hanging out in a cartoonish parody of a lost battle. The dragon advanced upon her in that metaphor…his claws marked "Fear", his teeth labeled "Concern".
"Twi…Twi, I…I want you to have somepony in your life Twi, if that's what would make you happy…"
Her ears perked up and her eyes went wide once more as the conversation took a turn she definitely had not expected. He spoke again, seeming to talk to the scarves that still lay steaming before the fireplace.
"…you'd be great for some colt. But…I, I want you to…to have somepony who loves you. Loves you, Twi."
He stood, turned to face her as tears streamed down his face, and he returned to being the uncertain child she'd been trying to assuage. To her immense relief his arms came unwrapped from his stomach, his pain lessening visibly as he looked up to her. To her amazement he put his clawed hands out before her, and she lowered her chin into them and looked at him as he spoke to her.
"I…I really want you to have a colt, no…a stallion, a real stallion, who would never, ever, ever, ever, hurt you…who would love you forever and ever…"
He rubbed his forehead to hers, some of his tears catching in her purple coat as he sniffled his way through his wants and wishes for her.
"Some stallion who will be kind to you…gentle with you, understand all the little things that make you…you. One who knows…"
He retracted his hands back to his mouth, the little boy, the whelp fighting for his words. She lifted herself onto her front hooves, looked down over him as the wet of his eyes reflected the firelight and the grey of the skies beyond.
"…knows how special you are…how wonderful you are…loves you for…"
To her surprise he opened his hand, ran it over the space between her eyes, up to her forelock.
"Loves you for what's behind your eyes…what's up here…"
She watched as he put his hand to the little hollow of her chest, stretching it far out to her as she stood on her forehooves. He danced the tips of his claws across her in a little circle, tickling her in the slightest. She lowered her head to try to see what he was doing…but only as she felt the tips of his claws tremble there did she realize…realize that he was invoking her heart…
"Love you for what's in here…"
He stepped back, painted a smile across his face. He mumbled something, winced as he did.
"Spike?" she asked in a voice only just above a whisper.
"I…I want you to have a stallion in your life, if that's what will make you happy, Twi. But…but only if…if…"
He mumbled again, and she leant forward.
"But only if," he said, quaking through the words, the types of words little boys always have trouble saying, "only if he…he never hurts you, only…only if…only if he loves you….loves you, loves you as much as I do."
"Loves you as much as I do," he repeated.
The tears streamed down his face in large rolling spheres, crossing over the falsely painted smile. His smile tried to hide his fears for her, the horrible thought that somepony might actually just view her, the one living thing in this world he loved completely, as something to be used.
The smile hid the hope that there must be some pony out there who, in time, would share his love for her and that much more…love her enough to lead her to that wonderful place where Spike's love for her was not designed and had no want or wish to go.
She knew this smile, what the false smile meant…she had seen it before. She'd seen it on the face of another male who loves her in a way very similar to the little dragon now before her.
Her mind's-eye flashed back through her life. She arrived back in her family home in Canterlot, and she felt herself as a child again, a little filly-foal.
It was just after she had received The Talk from her own parents. She had stumbled around in that awkward silence following the frank and factual biological discussion, new words and concepts still flashing around in her head that made her simultaneously want to giggle hilariously and be sick all over the azalea bushes.
She remembered coming out into the kitchen and seeing one of the strangest sights of her life. Her father, her loving, caring father stood there, his head fully inside the icebox. He drank in the cold, taking deep breaths. Breaths that steamed back out into the icebox in clouds of vapor.
As a child she had wondered about this and then simply wrote it off as part of that unusual day. As an adult, these years and decades later, she understood. It hadn't been easy for him, The Talk. As it had gone on he'd been nervous, mother doing most of the "heavy lifting". He'd in fact been so put off that he'd mispronounced one of the crucial terms as "organism".
Twilight understood now why he was there, in the icebox, his head resting in the crisper drawer. He had been fighting a fight. He had been raging, screaming inside his own mind, trying to use the cold to numb away the images that beat at him…the realization that someday some colt, just some random unwashed colt, would be hunched over the adult form of the little filly he had read to until she fell asleep in his lap, his precious daughter that he'd carried to bed all of those nights.
He had attempted to use the cold to drive away the awful image of a slobbering, grunting form covering the grown body of the little girl who'd given him butterfly kisses and run down the school hallway to him, jumping into his forelegs and wrapping him in countless hugs.
"Hi, Pumpkin," he had said when he finally lifted his head from among the milk bottles and cabbages, painting that false smile, the same one Spike now wore, "Would you like me to make us some nice cold milkshakes?"
Yes, Spike wore that same smile now too…and she hated him for it. Well, hate was far too strong…but it was so unfair, utterly unfair. She was supposed to be worrying about him…she was the one raising him now. He was the one who was supposed to be free from worry. Only the small concerns of a child were supposed to be his.
No wonder her metaphorical troops had been so soundly beaten. The harsh biology and reassuring facts had been the wrong weapons to arm them with. No, Spike shared his concerns with those of her father, those her wonderful, loving daddy had seen play out during his unhappy sojourn among the dairy products. They were worried for her…didn't want to see her hurt, used…they wanted her to be loved.
How much worse, she realized, it must be for Spike.
She looked back to him, drawing herself out of her reflection. He still stood there, his eyes watering, looking down into the fire as he ran his clawed hands up and down his arms once more.
She thought about Spike…what his world involved. It wasn't much. He owned nothing. The bassinet back in their now cold unused room in Canterlot was property of the nursery, something that they should probably have returned before coming to Ponyville.
The basket upstairs they had found here in the library, he uncomfortably refusing to sleep on the downstairs couch…she realizing he wasn't ready to be so far from her yet, the reassuring sound of her breath at night if he awoke being all that he needed to be sure everything was fine.
No, he had nothing. He had no vast hoard, no glittering cavern. She was his world, his everything. Everything he believed, felt, and knew existed inside of her…she was the total sum of his reality.
And he was worried for her…his, well, whatever she was to him. Certainly more than a boss, definitely most like a best friend. But…but there was more, something like…she was his big sister. Perhaps, perhaps even…his mother figure?
It was perhaps all of these, perhaps none. All that she knew was that in his world, and hers, they shared something…something unique and special, a love born of friendship, and she thanked Celestia for it.
Whatever their relationship was, he was her little one, and she his big one, and now she moved to draw out the fear and pain he felt for her.
Step three had been an absolute and complete failure. Thank Luna that they were in utter agreement about part four.
This was her body, and she was the one who would decide how it would be used. It was no more Spike's decision or her father's decision on how her body's fate would unfold than it was the decision of any of the colts whom both feared would somehow trick her into their lustful embraces.
Ha! No. That was not the fate of Twilight Sparkle, she reminded herself, smirking softly as she looked to him. That was a decision she'd made before this dragon could even speak. No, there was no place in her life for some stallion without compassion, without love…no colt would find a place in her life who did not show himself to be empathetic. No colt was getting that far into her life without loving her first.
And, as sure as the Well of Souls is deep, no pony was going to get into any other part of her before that, either.
So, she thought, why not tell him that?
"Spike?" she said, reaching her foreleg out to him, "Would, would you come here, please?"
Spike stopped looking deep into the fire, stopped running his hands up and down his arms. There was a mix of emotions on his face, relief that he had been able to say these important things, the flush that only a little boy can wear when he'd been made to say things like "love" and "special".
As he turned to face her she smiled over him. As he looked up to her she took his hand in her foreleg. Sitting down in a rather uncomfortable position, her weight supported entirely on her back legs, she took his hand as his expressions all fell away to one of astonishment.
Then, slowly, she opened his hand with one hoof as it rested in the other, one claw at a time. He did not react, did not question, his trust in her complete, his wonder at the act total.
When all had come open she slowly turned it over and laid his hand across her chest. She smiled over him once more as the sleet continued to pound at the window and the flicker of the flames of the fireplace spilled out over them.
"Spike," she said, holding his hand to the hollow of her chest, "I'm going to make you a promise…okay? Is that alright with you, that I make you a promise?"
"Yeah, Twi…yeah, that's okay," he said softly.
"Spike," she said, lowering herself so that he had more control over his hand, "Spike, what is this?"
"Your…heart," he answered, the whelp blinking, the last few tears running down his face, thankfully and finally dripping into the carpet.
"Spike," she said, "when, or if, the day ever comes when I think I've found a stallion who I want to be with…who I think can be the one to make me happy, and I him, I promise…I promise that I will be absolutely, utterly sure that he loves me. That I know as sure as the sun is shining and the Well is deep that he won't hurt me…that his heart is big, as big as mine or even bigger. That I know that he has as much love in his heart…as the ones who are already in mine."
With that she slowly released her hooves, let his little hand stand against her chest as they smiled to each other, his happy face returning to their little home for the first time in that long, late afternoon.
Slowly he retracted his hand, stood before her with his hands cupped together, smiling at her widely.
"So," she said, giving a great long sigh of relief, "how did I do? That work for ya'?"
"Heh!" he laughed, his face blushing once more as he put his hands behind his back, "Yeah…yeah, that was pretty good!"
They stood there for a long moment, each staring at each other with big dumb dopey smiles. The pony tilted her head to look at him as he twisted one foot back and forth across the rug. Someday, she remembered, he would have to make such a choice too. Turnabout, she thought, is fair play.
"Well," she said, leaning towards him, nodding, "What about you? Would you make me the same promise?"
"What?" he said, his face suddenly going into one of puzzlement.
"Would you make me the same promise?" she repeated, nuzzling him once.
"Blegh!" he replied, sticking his finger in his mouth, the little boy's reserve of ability to cope with all this lovey-dovey frilly type of talk now entirely spent.
"C'mon Spike," she said in a soft laugh that gave way to a chiding tone, "Somewhere out there this afternoon is a little girl dragon who's wondering if when she's a grown dam she'll meet a wonderful, caring, loving drake…and I just happen to know where there is one…"
As he blushed he looked first to the carpet, then up to the windows where the sleet still rattled and shook. He looked out them for a long moment, then back to Twilight.
"Do…do you really think so, Twi?"
"Maybe she's over the mountains," began Twilight, looking at him wistfully, "maybe she's down the coast…maybe she's one of us, a summoner to a designate, but, yes…I think so. I certainly hope so."
Spike looked back to the window, then back to Twilight.
"Do I get an exception if Rarity…ever comes around?"
Twilight stifled a snort.
"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes, "you've got immunity on that one…"
Spike blinked a few times, took a step closer to her, lifted his hands. She raised her hoof into them, and he placed the flat of her hoof against his chest.
"I promise," he said, "to treat all of the girls, dragon or pony, that come into my life the same way I hope, beg, that the ones I love will be treated."
As his hands fell away and her hoof was left resting lightly on his chest she pondered his words. That hadn't been quite what she'd wanted to hear. But, all things considered, it was close enough.
She slowly dropped her hoof. The Talk was over. Exercise complete. Well done, everyone. Spike was fine, she was fine, everything was fine. Life moved on once more.
"Hi, Twilight," he said after a long moment of awkward silence, "I'm back, they cancelled the Gathering."
She laughed a bit, saw he was looking for a "redo" of his actions, wanted to show her how responsible he was. No, no…don't do that yet, Spike, she thought. Don't start acting all grown up…don't fly away from me yet. I'm not ready for that.
"How was it?" she said with a laugh as a cunning thought swept through her mind.
"It sucked," he said, running his hands across the frills on his head, looking down to the carpet in thought, "Hey…we have half of an hour before we have to get dinner started. What are we gonna do until then?"
He looked back up to see Twilight in a position more like a Bengal tiger about to pounce than a pony, her eyes narrowed and her mouth curled up into wonderfully wicked little smile.
"Uh oh!" he was able to breathe before her attack began.
Owliscious came awake again as the sound filled the little living space. He blinked his great vibrant eyes and spun his head back and forth before it was able to settle on the source of the cacophony.
He watched as Twilight planted the raspberries on Spike's stomach. As the dragon laughed and laughed she tickled him, flipping him onto his back as he tried to roll over, knowing to avoid the toughest scales…knowing where the little spaces were that would send him into another giggling fit.
At once he broke and ran, laughing as he sped around the bookcase. To Owliscious's surprise Twilight emerged on the other side alone, a little look of surprise and anticipation across her own face.
At once Spike slid out through the bookcase, catching her unaware as she looked to where she had thought he'd come from. Sliding beneath her Spike danced his own fingers across her belly, chest, and neck, sending the pony to the ground, her dulcet laugher filling the room. The dragon tickled her behind her ears, made down her neck to her shoulders and back up again as she giggled and turned to him.
At once though Twilight had gathered him up once more, tickling the underside of his tail and belly in sequence as he tried half-heartedly to defend himself, as their laughter filled the room.
Soon enough it was over, and though Owliscious could not physically smile the happiness in the bird was evident as he once more put his head under his wing. Before he did he gave one last pleased peek at the two who sat before the fireplace, sheltering in each other's embrace as the sleet thrummed against the windows and rattled the panes.
End.
