The Secrets We Keep

Chapters

Throne Sitting
Pony Diplomacy
Dragon Dance
Yak Politics
Secrets Kept
Secrets Shared

Throne Sitting

Spike tightened his grip on the bloodstone scepter, if only to give himself something to do. It wasn’t like he really needed to keep his claws on it at all times. Some sort of dragon usurper wasn’t going to barge through the ornate stone doors at end of the cavernous throne room if he set it down. Besides, two giant dragon guards were standing at attention on either side of the door, ready to take on anything that dared challenge the Lord of the Dragons or, in Spike’s case, the Steward of the Dragons. Or was it Steward of the Lord of the Dragons? He should’ve written it down.

Ember would be back tomorrow anyway. Her big mission to chart the dragon lands would be over soon, and so would Spike’s big favor to her. He glanced up at the jewel at the top of the scepter. Bloodstones were salty and bitter, but at least they were nice to look at. He rotated the scepter slowly, allowing the jewel’s polished facets to catch the throne room’s distant sources of light.

As far as palaces went, this place just didn’t compare to Canterlot, or even Ponyville. The slit-like windows high up on the unadorned walls made the place feel like a prison. The dragons hadn’t been at war for a thousand years, so why did their ruler have to live in a fortress?

The palace walls did far more than block sunlight, of course. Was there a raging storm outside, or peaceful sunshine? Short of walking all the way to the door and putting his ear to it, he’d never know. Sitting on this throne meant being cut off from everything and everyone, with one exception.

Rarity’s knitting needles made the softest clicking sound as she worked. A flowing robe spilled down the marble steps leading to the throne, a slow-moving river of multi-colored yarn with a stunning, white unicorn at its head. Forget the windows; Rarity could light up any room.

Spike stood and, with great care, leaned the scepter against the throne’s massive armrest. “Hey… Rarity?”

Rarity gave him a quick glance before returning her attention to her work. “Yes, Spikey?”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“Think nothing of it. Twilight and the others were busy, and coming all this way on your own would be bad enough without having to sit in this frightful castle for days on end with nopony to talk to.”

Spike hopped off the throne and walked across the dais to Rarity’s side. The cushion she’d brought looked so comfortable, especially compared to his own lot. The throne of the dragon lord was just a big stone chair, and the scepter was just a big red crystal. He didn’t need either of them, although he wouldn’t have minded borrowing some of the mystique and majesty they were meant to convey.

“Rarity, could I… um… could I share your cushion for a little while?” he’d finally said it. There was no lordly way to ask, but he’d done it anyway.

Rarity’s knitting needles paused. She looked Spike’s way and smiled. “You’re more than welcome to borrow the entire cushion. I was wondering how long you could tolerate a throne made of solid granite.”

Spike’s hand shot up. “Wait, you don’t have to move off of it. I don’t want you to have to sit on the floor.”

“There’s hardly room enough for two. If I’d known the dragon palace was going to be so… uncomfortable, I would’ve packed more blankets and pillows. It’s as if dragons don’t believe in such things.”

Spike’s back hurt just thinking about the prospect of more luggage. At least he hadn’t been asked to lug her divan all this way. “I-I don’t need a lot of room. If you could scoot over just a little…”

Rarity rose, took a small step to the side, resettled herself, and resumed knitting. “I’m not sure this will be much of an improvement, but you’re welcome to try.”

Spike sat on the small corner she’d given him and leaned against her side. He’d never been more comfortable in his life. “Is this okay?”

“Quite. Are you comfortable?”

“Y-yeah! Thanks.”

She giggled, a sensation Spike never wanted to stop feeling. “One of these days you’re going to run out of things to thank me for. You’ve expressed your appreciation for my coming with you three times today at least.”

“I know, but… it’s a big deal to me, okay? You’ve got so many other things you could be doing. I know you’ve got lots of dress orders, and you didn’t even bring your sewing machine. All you brought is yarn for Ember’s gift from the Princesses.”

“Come now, Spikey. Friends should always come before business, and hauling a sewing machine out here would’ve been the very definition of overkill. It’s been far too long since I tore myself away from my usual routine and did a little knitting.”

Spike’s eyes followed the many feet of knitted yarn that stretched out before them. “That’s way more than a little.”

“Indeed, but there’s little else one can do when preparing a gift for royalty of Ember’s stature.”

“She’ll love it.”

“I certainly hope so. I don’t know her well enough to judge her tastes in accessories.”

The conversation entered a lull, one that Spike didn’t mind. He could listen to the sound of her knitting needles all day, especially now that they’d been joined by the near-imperceptible movement of her breathing. While she knitted behind him, he was left staring at the massive throne and scepter that symbolized dragon royalty and thinking over how perfect this moment was. Here they were, miles away from chores, dressmaking, and any responsibility beyond keeping each other company. “What if Ember didn’t come back?”

“What a dreadful thought! Surely you don’t want to be stuck here as the dragon lord, do you?”

“No way! But… if I had to… would you stay with me?”

The clicking of knitting needles ceased. “Spike… What precisely are you asking? You yourself just mentioned my responsibilities to my business. There’s also my family to consider, our friends—”

“I know. I don’t mean… It was just a bad way to phrase it. Sorry.”

“Dare I ask what you meant?”

“If I was the dragon lord, I’d be a king, and I’d want you to be my… But I don’t really want to be the dragon lord. I just… ugh. You know already… you know, but I never say anything. How come we never talk about… how I feel about you?”

He slumped forward, and cool air filled the void between them. He’d felt so close to her a moment ago, close in every possible sense. Now he’d said too much, even if it felt like not enough.

Rarity sat very still. “Must we have this conversation, Spike?”

Spike kept staring at the scepter, a much safer thing to focus on than the strain in her voice that all but begged him to change the subject. If he could imagine being as big and tough as one of those dragons that he was technically ruling over, then he could do and say anything. “Well… why not?”

“Because I cherish our friendship and never want to jeopardize it by hurting you.”

“I know; I guess I just don't know why. Is it because I’m a dragon?”

Rarity flinched. “Heavens, no! Although I certainly don’t care for the brutish ways of the typical dragon, you couldn’t be more different.”

“Is it because you think I’m too young, or too short, or ugly?”

“Where are these ideas coming from, Spike? If you were ‘too young,’ you’d be attending school with Sweetie Belle, and certainly wouldn’t have been called on by the dragon lord as a possible successor. As for everything else: you are not too short, tall, unattractive, unintelligent, or any other self-depreciating thing you could possibly name.”

Spike furrowed his brow as he thought. “Oh… that's good… but then why—”

Rarity dropped her knitting needles. “Is having a reason really necessary? We both live and work alongside countless ponies every day without developing a bond stronger than friendship. Do I need a list of reasons why I’m not madly in love with all of them?”

His gaze remained locked on the scepter. As long as he did that, he could be as cool as the stone itself. “I guess not… but I’d still like to know.”

She pitched her head back. “Romance aside, I care about you, Spike. That should come as no surprise, and therefore you should understand why I don’t want to keep hurting you with this conversation.”

“But you’re not!”

“Oh, really?”

Spike gulped. “Okay. Maybe it hurts, but it’s important to me. I’d rather have it hurt a lot right now than hurt a little forever. I just want you to be happy. If I can’t ever do that for you… then I can figure out how to be happy on my own. If I’m not too dumb, or short, or any of that other stuff, then your real reason can’t be that bad.”

Rarity took a deep breath. “Very well. At the risk of trotting out the oldest, tiredest cliché in the book: it’s not you, it’s me.”

“What does that even mean? Didn’t I just say I want you to be happy?”

“Yes, but… happiness is a very complicated, very elusive thing. You’ve met my parents, haven’t you?”

“Yeah?”

She didn’t respond, or even move. Aside from Spike’s own breathing, the room fell silent.

He fought the urge to turn around. If he did, if he wound up staring into her beautiful eyes when she told him that they’d never be more than friends, he’d start crying. He had to be stronger than that. “What’s wrong?”

She spoke in a slow, level voice that bordered on emotionless. “Spike… I must demand that this conversation never leave this room. Never speak of it, not to Twilight, not to anypony else. In fact, I’d prefer that you never mention it to me, either.”

“Okay… Sure.”

“I’ve come to a certain understanding with my parents regarding my career, but only after years of bickering. As I grew up, they assumed that my life would follow a path similar to theirs. Even after my cutie mark appeared, they assumed I’d merely mend my own clothing or work as a salespony selling the ghastly apparel offered in the likes of Barnyard Bargains. They laughed when I said I wanted to open my own business.”

“Huh, why? What did they have against you making dresses for a living?”

Rarity sighed. “My mother used to work alongside the Cakes in Sugarcube Corner; her cookies were just as famous then as cupcakes are now. She quit the day she got married and never looked back. Her job as a baker was just that: a job. I certainly don’t begrudge her decision or priorities, but neither she nor my father could understand that that just wasn’t the life for me. I wanted a career, not a job. I wanted a career more than a family, and time only deepened my conviction. I saved up every bit I needed to purchase what is now the Carousel Boutique, and I didn’t speak to them for months after I signed the deed and moved in.”

“Wow… I’m so sorry… but—”

“My friends come before my business, but that’s it. I swore I’d never fall for the stallion next door like my mother did, and I’d never let such things compromise my dreams. Aside from my… lapses, shall we say, in pursuit of fairytale romances with unsavory princes or traveling writers, I’ve shut my heart off from love. Each of those painful exceptions reminded me that I was chasing fantasies, not ponies. Reaching for the heights of fashion demand that I stay focused… and lest you forget, I am a lady. If there’s one aspect of love that I wholeheartedly agree with my parents on, it’s that romance is in pursuit of lifelong marriage and nothing less.”

Spike held up his claws to count. “So let’s see: I’d get in the way of your career, I’m the dragon next door, and you just don’t want to get married ever? That’s it?”

She nodded. “I suppose it is. As I said, I didn’t want to hurt you, Spikey, but—”

“Rarity, that’s silly.”

He could feel her tense up. Her level, emotionless tone became an eyebrows-raised gasp. “Excuse me? Spike, if this is how you react to me baring my soul to you—”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be mean! I get what you’re saying, but… look.”

He ran down the steps and lifted the robe. “Remember when all of this was just balls of yarn? I carried it all the way from Ponyville, and I help you out with dressmaking all the time. I do stuff like that because you’re my friend, and because I like you. Why would I stop if you liked me too?”

“Yes, but be that as it may…”

Spike ran back up the stairs and, with some difficulty, climbed onto the throne. He grabbed the scepter and pointed the bloodstone at the distant roof. “And I’m not some random guy from Ponyville. Right now, I’m Lord of the Dragons! I’m the assistant to the Princess of Friendship, I was raised by Princess Celestia herself, I’ve saved the Crystal Empire twice, and I live in a giant castle.”

Rarity stifled a giggle with her hoof. “I suppose that’s also true. That doesn’t help the final difficulty, of course.”

He scratched his head. “Yeah, but I just don’t get that. Why does love have to come between you and your dreams? What’s wrong with getting married?”

“Consider the hypothetical situation where I simply jumped into your arms this instant. Surely our relationship would demand some of my time for romantic meals and long walks down main street? I for one would expect nothing less. How long would it be before I’d ruin us with my frequent business trips to the far corners of Equestria, or my extremely long working days when I am home? I’m forced to compromise my friendship time with you and the others often enough. Doing that to a… a special somepony would be more than I could bear. It would be heartbreaking for both of us.”

Spike stared at the scepter still in his grasp. He didn’t remember precisely when he’d first torn his eyes away from it, and he didn’t care. He didn’t need to worry about crying anymore.

Rarity sighed. “I lost you when I mentioned jumping into your arms, didn’t I?”

“Huh? Haha, no. I heard it all, but I just… Let’s say we were more than friends; we’d still be friends, wouldn’t we?”

“What are you implying?”

“You love Twilight and the rest of the gang, don’t you? How much of a difference would there really be between the two of us being ‘just friends’ and… ‘also friends?’ ”

She raised an eyebrow. “The meaning of a hug, for one.”

He fought off a blush. “A-and what if we did get married? Who says I don’t want to travel around Equestria with you? Who says I won’t stay up late helping you finish those dress orders? I’d never want you to give up on your dreams, not for me, not for anyone.”

“I do believe you, but what of your dreams? What would you be missing out on if you were to follow me to the ends of the fashion world and back?”

“My dreams? Rarity, not everyone dreams as big as you.”

Rarity frowned. “That can be a problem in and of itself. What do you see yourself doing in five years, or ten? Have you given that any thought?”

Spike set the scepter down and spread out his arms. “I want to be right here! Well, okay, not ‘here’ here. I’m living my dream already: I’ve got a ton of friends, I’ve got a great place to live, I get to read and cook as much as I want—”

“Do comic books truly count as reading?”

“Hey, I read other stuff, too. Comics are just awesome because… You won’t tell anyone this, right?”

She smiled. “Of course, darling.”

“Comics are awesome because they’re filled with superheroes… ponies that do amazing stuff all the time, and that everybody likes… Back when I was a really really little dragon, I wanted to be just like them. I wanted friends besides Princess Celestia and Twilight, and I wanted superpowers so I could help them out whenever bad stuff happened. Back then, the best I could do was carrying books around for Twilight, or taking notes for her.”

“I suppose you did at least gain a fine collection of friends.”

Spike hopped down from the throne and smiled. “It’s even better than that. I have superpowers, too!”

“I’m not sure breathing fire counts when one is a dragon.”

“I meant cooking and cleaning. I know it’s not big or fancy, but that’s stuff that I’m super-good at. Back in Canterlot, I watched the castle ponies until I learned it all. I can do dishes, I can sweep, I can cook three meals a day for me and Twilight… I know that doesn’t sound like a superpower, but… I like being Twilight’s assistant because it lets her focus on her magic and studying, and that helped her become a Princess. If we were… If we got married, my dream would be doing that for you: helping you make amazing stuff like this.”

He pointed to the robe once again. “There’s got to be thousands of ponies that have clothes-making or fashion cutie marks, but you’re the one making a gift for a dragon lord. You’re the one opening shops all over Equestria. You’re the one that Princess Cadence chose to make her wedding dress. Plus, you’ve saved all of Equestria a bunch of times, and you're the element of generosity. You’re a superhero to me, Rarity.”

Rarity blushed. “That’s… That’s actually very touching. Thank you.”

Spike stepped closer and held out his arms. “So… What do you say?”

She got to her hooves, her smile diminishing. “I say that this deserves far more consideration than a mere five minute discussion. If I were to… If we were to… It puts the very foundations of our friendship at risk!”

His arms drooped, and his head followed. “I guess you’re right… But I’m not giving up if there’s still a chance. I can be patient.”

“You sound suspiciously like a young me staring at an empty building, dreaming of the day when…”

He stared at her for a minute and finally resorted to waving his hand in front of her eyes. “Rarity?”

She took in a deep breath and stared at him. “Spike… perhaps I’ve been thinking about this the wrong way. When I bought my boutique… When I bought my first roll of fabric for that matter… Business is all about risks, as is life in general. I’ve taken a great many of them to get where I am today, and I do my very best to make sure that each risk isn’t too great. If you and I were to pursue courtship for even a moment, the risk would be tremendous. We could hurt each other gravely. We could hurt other ponies we care about. I already know you’re willing to take that risk, and… if you truly are willing to wait for me to arrive at a decision…”

Spike dropped to his knees and nodded. “Yes! I’d wait for the rest of—”

Rarity held up her hoof. “Stop right there. I absolutely forbid you to spend the rest of your life waiting for me. I am far from the only eligible mare in the world. If I can’t make up my mind in a reasonable time, then I don’t deserve to have you, and you certainly don’t deserve to be stuck with a second-guessing pony. Is that understood?”

“And I forbid… order… well, no. I’m going to politely suggest that you join me up on the throne instead of staying down here.”

She glanced at the massive throne and then to Spike with lowered eyebrows. “And why might you even suggest such a thing to a good friend, which is currently all that we are?”

He pointed at the floor beneath them. “Because it’s a whole lot colder down here. I didn’t even realize it until we started talking, but the throne’s the warmest spot in this whole palace. We were doing just fine sharing the cushion before, weren’t we? That throne is big enough for five of us.”

“Well…”

Spike grinned. “Do you want to be Lord of the Dragons for a while?”

Rarity’s frown softened ever so slightly. “Well…”

Spike knelt and held up the scepter. “Maybe Queen of the Dragons?”

Her frown gave way to a small smile, followed by a very convincing look of regal disinterest. She swept her foreleg through the air and stuck up her nose. “I must away to my throne, post haste!”

He ran to the foot of the throne and bowed. “At once, your majesty!”

She placed a hoof under his chin and raised him back up. “Come now, Sir Spike. Even if I’m not in need of a king, I do need a trusted friend and confidant. Won’t you join me?”

“With pleasure, my queen.”

Pony Diplomacy

Spike flipped the page in his book and glanced at the next paragraph. His eyes followed each line of text, absentmindedly scanning the words while he rolled the events of the morning over in his mind. He’d told Rarity how he felt. He’d told her everything. She’d done the same, and it hadn't been the emphatic “no” he'd always feared. She could still turn around and break his heart, but every passing moment where they continued on as they were now, seated together on the giant throne immersed in their own activities, was a moment where she hadn’t. He could panic later, once he’d finished basking in the glow of possibility.

In his mind, the oversized throne room vanished. Suddenly he was sitting on the divan in the boutique, thumbing through a favorite book while Rarity knitted next to him. Her back pressed against his, sharing space and body heat not unlike how they’d been doing a half hour ago, right up until he’d told her his secret. Not that his feelings were much of a secret, of course. Everypony knew, but saying it out loud to Rarity herself still held special meaning. He glanced up at the bloodstone scepter currently propped against the throne’s back, and winked. I owe it all to you.

“Are you enjoying your book, darling?” Rarity’s knitting continued uninterrupted, as if Spike had only imagined her speaking.

He tensed up and looked at her. Rarity had situated herself on the opposite side of the throne, surrounded by her knitting. At least she’d offered him the cushion. “M-my book? Uh… yeah. It’s okay, I guess. I’m almost done with it.”

“I trust you brought several, considering we have another day of throne-sitting before Ember returns?”

He set his bookmark in place and closed the book. “Yep. A couple that I haven’t read, a couple old favorites… and a bunch of comic books. Don’t tell Twilight that last part, okay? She’s been on me to read more nonfiction.”

Rarity smiled and spread the robe out with her hooves. Her knitting needles lay by her side, their work finished. “Twilight will be Twilight. I don’t suppose I could borrow some reading material? I did have a few other knitting projects in mind, but… how can I best put this—” she gestured toward the empty room “—this palace is far from what I’d call inspiring.”

Spike scuffed his foot against the throne, his claws sliding along the polished surface. “Stone chair, stone floor, stone walls… Maybe that’s why Torch stopped living here. Remember when Ember said this palace hasn’t been used for hundreds of moons?”

“Torch’s growing so big as to not fit through the front door didn’t help matters either, I’m sure.”

“Heh, yeah. Hey, maybe instead of sitting in here all day, we could have a picn—”

Light flooded the throne room as its huge double doors burst open. The guards stationed at either side barely had time to stand up straight before Ember glided by and landed on the throne, barely a foot away from Spike and Rarity. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, and panted. “Whew… Made it.”

Spike jumped up and retrieved the bloodstone scepter from where he’d left it to gather dust. He held it out to Ember with a very real smile all the same. “Hey Ember, welcome back! Did you finish your scouting mission early?”

Ember pushed the scepter away amid her panting. “You could… You could say that.”

“Are… uh… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”

Rarity trotted over with the completed robe in her magic grasp. “It looks like I finished knitting just in time. Please allow me to present you with this, Princess Ember: a gift from all your friends in Ponyville, and from the royalty of pony society.”

Ember raised an eyebrow as her breathing slowed. “My ‘friends?’ What is it?”

“Let me demonstrate.” Rarity unfurled the robe and set it on Ember’s shoulders. A brilliant pattern of reds, oranges, and blues, like the rising of a fiery sun, flowed down to Ember’s ankles. “I used only finest of materials, and I assure you it’s entirely fireproof. Our mutual friend Princess Twilight enchanted the yarn herself.”

Ember pulled at the cord fastened around her neck and ran the robe’s edge between her claws. After a moment’s silent contemplation, she looked at Rarity and nodded. “Thanks. It’s nice.”

Spike held out the scepter again. “So tell us about your trip! Did you see the far reaches of the dragon lands like you wanted?”

Ember’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh… Well… You know how it goes: first month as dragon lord, meeting lots of subjects, seeing lots of territory, inciting a war with Yakyakistan…”

Spike and Rarity shared a gasp.

“I-it’s no big deal! I’ll just tell them it was a misunderstanding… again. I mean, it’s not like they’re as stubborn as dragons, right? They’ll get that I didn’t mean to singe their prince’s beard.”

Rarity planted her hoof against her forehead. “I don’t suppose this offended yak happened to go by the name Prince Rutherford?”

Ember nodded. “Yes! Have you met him before? I can talk him down, right?”

Spike groaned. “Maybe after he’s done smashing up your palace, considering what his visit to Ponyville was like.”

Ember scraped her claws against her horns. “What?” She sank down until her face pressed against the stone. “There hasn’t been a dragon war in a thousand years! I can’t break that streak, not after I just finished telling hundreds of my subjects that being big and strong isn’t what being a dragon is all about!”

Spike ran forward and tugged on her hand. “Maybe we can talk to him with you. Rarity and I were in Ponyville when the yaks visited; he might remember us.”

“Indeed,” Rarity said, “Prince Rutherford may be prone to… outbursts, shall we say, but he isn’t completely beyond reason. A familiar face and some pleasantries might be just what’s needed to smooth things over.”

Ember lay still, her voice muffled by her face-down position. “You’ll really help?”

Spike held up the scepter. “Of course we’ll help, we’re your friends. Now let’s go talk to that ya—”

Ember rose to a sitting position and pulled Spike into scale-crushing hug. “Thanks, Spike. This is why I wanted you in charge while I was gone… I knew you’d know what to do.”

“S-sure… thing.” Spike managed with what little air he had left in him.

The view of the dragon lands from five hundred feet up was incredible, as was the windchill. Barren valleys, smoking volcanoes, and mountainside villages sailed by beneath Spike and Rarity, the sole passengers clinging to the back of one of the palace’s massive guards-turned-taxis. Ember led the airborne charge, her bloodstone scepter glinting in the sunlight and her new robe billowing in her wake.

Spike stole another glance at the distant scenery, forever thankful that he didn’t get this kind of a view of it very often. Flying with Twilight was scary enough, and at least with her he could clamp his arms and legs around her sides. The best he could do here was dig his claws into his ride’s grey scales and hope his shivering didn’t make him fall. If he did, would this big dragon even notice? Spike was an insect compared to him.

Two clawless forelegs tightened their already vice-like grip around Spike’s middle, reminding him how much better off an actual insect would be: a real insect wouldn’t have a pony clinging to them for dear life. He glanced back at Rarity, her hair flailing, her eyes watering, and her teeth chattering.

“Just hang on, we’ll be okay!” He had to shout to hear himself over the roaring wind.

Rarity scowled. “We’re clinging to a giant dragon flying pony-knows-where at a speed that could rival Rainbow Dash. This is the exact opposite of okay!”

“I-I know, I just mean… it’ll be okay?”

“When we’re firmly on the ground in Ponyville and having afternoon tea, then and only then will everything be okay!”

A shadow fell across them as their ride’s neck craned around. Two huge, bulbous eyes met Spike’s, and a mouth filled with harpoon-sized teeth opened. “My goin’ too fast for you?”

Spike gulped. “Uh… uh… just a little?”

“Yes!” Rarity screamed.

The eyes blinked and the mouth frowned. “Feh, you’re lucky Lord Ember is headin’ down.”

The roaring winds calmed as their ride’s rapid wingbeats became a nearly motionless glide. Dust clouds some distance ahead signaled the location of the yaks, no doubt stampeding their way back home.

“S-Spike?” Rarity stammered.

“Yeah?”

“Once you’re in a suitable position to write a letter, please let Twilight and the other princesses know that Ember absolutely did not need a hoofmade robe. What she needs is a chariot!”

“With seat belts?”

“Precisely!”

“And maybe velvet carpeting?”

“That would be lov—don’t you dare patronize me!”

Spike grinned. “I’m just trying to make you feel better. This isn’t so bad now that we’re not going so fast.”

“Hmpf. I for one am perfectly content to stay on the ground. I have yet to have an experience this far off of it without a near-tragic end.”

“Do you know what happened the first time Twilight and I flew from Canterlot to Ponyville? She was about to crash into the library, so she teleported herself inside.”

“Surely you mean she teleported both of you inside.”

“Nope.”

Rarity gasped. “Then… you—”

“Smacked right into the window.”

Her silence prompted him to elaborate. “B-but I was okay and everything. After I brushed off all the leaves and tree sap, I came in through the—”

Gentle laughter reverberated through him by way of her forelegs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh, considering it clearly wasn’t enjoyable for you.”

“It’s okay. That’s kind of why I told you.”

He glanced back, and she smiled at him. “Thank you for attempting to put me at ease. I suppose we’ll need to be calm if we’re going to avert a war.”

“Do you think we can?”

“I see no reason why not. If I can clothe the likes of Sapphire Shores, and if you can survive poor Twilight’s first attempts at flying, then why shouldn’t we be able to—”

Their ride’s claws slammed into the dirt, dislodging Spike and Rarity like apples bucked from a tree. After a brief scream-filled plunge, they found themselves safely on hard-packed dirt, coughing up dust and brushing off more of the same.

Spike’s attempts to wave away the dust clouds made little difference. “Rarity? Are you okay?”

Rarity coughed as she trotted over. “Yes, no thanks to that landing. How is my hair? Am I presentable?”

Her dirt-stained coat and windswept hair made him cringe. “Uh…”

“This isn't one of those infamous trick questions, Spike. We’re meeting with the prince of the yaks, and I for one would like to look as close to my best as the situation allows.”

“You… um… You’ve had better hair days… a lot of them.”

She gave her mane a vigorous shake, restoring some of its usual curl. “I’ll just have to make the most of it… Are you cowering?”

Spike opened one eye, unaware that he’d automatically crouched down and shielded his face. “I-I… I mean… Sorry. You’re still beautiful to me, Rarity!”

She patted his head. “As sweet as that may be, didn’t we spend the morning candidly sharing our secrets? You can be honest with me, and considering what we’re about to do, I certainly hope you can trust me.”

He nodded. “I know… and I was: your hair is a total mess, but the other part is true too. It always is.”

Her cheeks flushed red. “I… Thank you, Spikey-Wikey.”

Prince Rutherford’s voice shook the ground. “Yaks demand dragons release pony they steal! Yaks friends with ponies!”

Spike and Rarity followed his booming voice through the remains of the dust cloud. Lines of dragons and yaks materialized on either side of them, each group facing each other with teeth bared and hooves stomping. In the middle of the face-off stood Ember, waving her hands defensively in front of the still-bellowing Prince Rutherford.

“Yaks count to five! One! Two!”

Spike spoke first. “Prince Rutherford, wait! Remember me, Spike from Ponyville? This isn’t what it looks like! This is all a big mistake!”

Prince Rutherford’s front hooves crashed down. “Tiny dragon from Ponyville? If friends with ponies, why defend big dragons? Yaks confused, and when yaks confused, yaks smash!”

Rarity bowed until her horn touched the ground. “Prince Rutherford, how good to see you again. Surely you remember me, one of the ponies from your welcome party in Equestria where you declared yaks and ponies would be friends for a thousand moons?”

Prince Rutherford paused his stomping. “White pony familiar. Friends with tiny dragon?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes, Spike is my friend, as are all of these dragons who you apparently have a disagreement with.”

“Not disagreement, great insult! Yaks come to meet new Dragon Lord, offer traditional yak food, but Dragon Lord burn hair! Worst insult possible, so yaks declare war!”

Spike leaned forward and squinted until he spotted a few singed hairs on Prince Rutherford’s generous beard. “That’s the worst insult possible for yaks? But dragons breathe fire all the time! It’s what we do!”

“Worst insult possible! Dragon Lord not eat yak food, dragons and yaks not friends!” Prince Rutherford bellowed.

Ember turned her head and coughed. “Super-spicey food.”

Rarity took a step forward and forced a laugh. “Why this makes perfect sense now, my dear Prince. While fire-breathing might be an insult to you, it’s just the opposite for dragons. In fact, it’s a great compliment to have one’s hair lightly singed by a dragon. Isn’t that right, Spike?”

She stepped in front of Spike before he could answer, waving her tail from side to side in an almost hypnotic fashion. “Isn’t that right, Spike?”

Spike gulped; he couldn’t ask if she was sure, not now, and not after her little speech about trust. “R-right.” He coughed out a few sparks, just enough to set the tip of her tail alight and for its swaying to extinguish the flames. “That’s a… huge honor.”

Rarity turned and held up the freshly blackened tip of her tail. “You see? This is a sign of the deep, everlasting friendship Spike and I share.”

Spike ran to her side and nodded. “Yep! I’d do anything for her!”

“And I’d do the same for him.”

Prince Rutherford stared down at them, unmoving and unblinking. At last he turned to Ember. “This true? Yaks and dragons have culture clash?”

Ember gave a big nod. “Yes! I want us to be friends or whatever! I want our kingdoms to be at peace; we all do. Isn’t that right?” She glanced at her contingent of dragons, who all nodded in agreement.

Prince Rutherford tapped his chin. “Hmm. Then maybe we start over. Yaks come to dragon palace, have party, meet royalty.”

Ember gave a fluid bow. “It’d be an honor, Prince Rutherford. We’ll serve some traditional dragon delicacies, plus… we’ll find something yaks can digest. We’ll buy stuff from the ponies of Equestria if we have to.”

Prince Rutherford turned to his brethren with hooves raised. “Then it settled! Yaks arrive at sundown, party all night! This go well, peace with dragons for a thousand moons!”

The yaks cheered wildly while Ember shivered mid-bow. “All night?”

She turned to Rarity and Spike next. “You two have planned parties and junk, right? That’s… not really a dragon thing.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Pfft, parties? I was trained by Pinkie Pie herself.”

Dragon Dance

The cavernous throne room Spike once presided over had vanished. In its place was a throng of yaks and dragons that reached from one wall to the other and from the front doors to the dais. The only break in the shifting sea of dancing, singing, and carousing bodies was a pair of long banquet tables that nearly split the room in two. Even now, several hours into the party, food remained in ample supply. Everything from hay to fried vegetables to a ruby cake was up for grabs at one of the two tables, and grab he had.

Spike leaned against the throne’s back and patted his bulging stomach. Sitting up here, overseeing the party instead of getting lost in it, felt more lordly and important than babysitting the empty palace ever could, scepter or no scepter. Best of all, he still wasn’t doing it alone. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Rarity, that was some amazing negotiating.”

Rarity, who’d been seated next to him for the entirety of the party, touched a napkin to her lips and gave a long, contented sigh. “Thank you, Spikey-Wikey. I must say I had my doubts about my plan working; chivalry should always come before conflict, but… well… finding two ounces of chivalry in that crowd might take a very, very long time.”

He followed her gaze to the party taking place before them, where dragons and yaks were brushing past each other like grinding stones in a wheat mill. “Yeah. I’m glad we’re way up here. And I’m glad I stuck the spicy stuff the yaks brought way over by the water; we don’t need any more fire-breathing accidents.”

“Indeed, indeed. Thank you for keeping your ‘demonstration of friendship’ easy to remedy with a pair of scissors.”

He took a long, slow look at her, from the now-clipped tip of her tail, to her brushed coat, to her styled mane. All traces of their high speed flight and dusty landing were gone. He opened his mouth and quickly closed it again. There wasn’t much of anything left to say, not since he’d blurted out his deepest feelings and gotten a ‘maybe’ in response. “So…”

“Thank you for being so understanding and patient.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off the crowd.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking about our conversation from this morning, aren’t you?”

His gaze dropped to the collection of dirtied plates at his feet. “Yeah.”

“I don’t have an answer for you. Even if we’d spent the entire day sitting here idly like we originally planned, I still wouldn’t.”

“That’s… okay. I won’t ask about it anymore.”

She patted his shoulder and spoke with a touch of sadness. “I’m sorry, Spikey. I hope you know I’m not doing this to be cruel.”

He reached up and touched her hoof just before it left his shoulder. “I know, I really do. A-and I’m still glad we talked and everything. It kind of made today work. If we hadn’t opened up so much, I don’t think I would’ve believed you really wanted me to set your tail on fire.”

“ ‘Want’ is too strong a word for that, but ‘need’ might do. The important thing is that the yaks are going home tomorrow morning, and so are we.”

Spike twisted himself from side to side, eliciting a few pops from his spine. Hefting Rarity’s luggage wouldn't be so bad since she'd used up so much yarn on Ember’s robe. “I’m gonna go get one more piece of that ruby cake. Do you want anything?”

Rarity’s plate collection arranged itself into a neat stack. “Mmm, perhaps I’ll go find the rest of those roasted chestnuts. Some of the yak food really isn’t so bad.”

“As long as you’ve got enough water, I guess. Want me to get you some?”

“That’s quite all right. I’ll meet you back here?”

“Sounds great.”

Spike hopped off the throne shortly before Rarity did the same. With a plate tucked under his arm, he approached the constantly-moving wall of partygoers. He dodged left and right, stepping over dragon tails, under yak beards, and past more sites of spilled food and drink than he cared to count. A minute later, the edge of the nearest banquet table came into view. He slipped between the table legs and ran underneath. Claws and hooves thundered on either side of his private highway, and the occasional spiked tail obstructed it. Still he ran, plate in hand, for the far end of the table and the enormous cake waiting on top of it. It didn’t matter that he was already full; dessert didn’t count towards a full stomach, at least that was his working theory, one he couldn’t prove without some more experimentation.

He rose above the table’s edge, right next to the cake. He set his plate next to it and grabbed the serving knife. A thin but gem-heavy slice plopped onto his plate, along with an extra helping of the garnish gems for good measure. No sooner had he put the knife down than someone slammed into his back, knocking him against the table and nearly sending his precious cake flying. Spike glared at the offending dragon tail and ducked back under the table, sugary cargo in hand.

“You know,” he said to the cake slice, “there’s no way you’re gonna survive the trip back to the throne. Might as well just eat here.”

He took a great sniff of the mineral-heavy frosting and leaned in for a bite.

“H-hey, Rarity!” Ember shouted.

Spike paused mid-bite. He looked up and saw Ember from the knees down, her robe trailing behind her as she navigated the crowd.

Rarity appeared next, everything above her cutie mark hidden by the table’s edge. “Good evening, Princess Ember. Thank you again for allowing Spike and I to use your throne for the party.”

“Uh, sure. I can’t blame you for wanting to keep your distance; my tail’s been stepped on more times than… Anyway, could I… uh… talk to you about something private? It’s not like anyone’s going to hear us here.”

“Of course, darling.”

Spike froze, frosting still on his lips.

Ember scuffed her feet on the floor. “Why does Spike pal around with you ponies so much? When I asked him to be my steward while I traveled, I didn’t think he’d bring a pony along.”

“My being a pony has nothing to do with it. Spike and I have been dear friends for years, and when he told me how he was going to be sitting in an empty palace with nothing to do for days on end, I gladly accepted his invitation to keep him company. Based on your encounter with the Yaks, surely you can see that one’s outer appearance has little to do with what’s on the inside.”

“Yeah, well that’s not going to do him any favors if he ever decides to live with his own kind. That’s actually why I wanted to talk with you. I really want to ask Spike to stick around, maybe even move into the palace… but I can’t figure out how to say it.”

Rarity took a step back. “Excuse me? I fail to see why Spike would ever leave his home in Ponyville, nor would I want him to!”

Ember stepped closer. “Look, Rarity. I get that you’re friends and all, but Spike’s not a pony. He’s a dragon at an age where he can do and be whatever he wants; he wouldn’t have been summoned to make a challenge for the scepter if he wasn’t. And even without that,” she leaned in, the downward-facing tips of her horns coming into Spike’s view, “I can smell it on him: brains, maturity, opportunity… He could have stuff here that he’s never going to with ponies. If he got himself a hoard of treasure he wouldn’t be so small, and once the other dragons see how great the dragon lord treats him, he might even get over his… other problem.”

Spike gulped. Gems slid around his plate as his hands shook. What could possibly be wrong with him?

Rarity’s voice lost its amicable tone. “Princess Ember, I assure you Spike is very much interested in staying among his pony friends, and I can’t imagine what ‘problem’ you’re referring to. Spike is a dragon, yes, but that has no bearing on his living happily and comfortably in Ponyville. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

Ember’s feet twisted and her claws scraped against the floor. “Ugh, I guess you wouldn’t understand… Look, Spike’s a dragon, but… right now he’s not much of a dragon. Everybody knows he’s poor and weak since he’s so small. That part’s easy enough to fix, but he… he doesn’t have any wings. He’s from the lowest of the social classes, the kind that some dragons think are a complete waste of space. Sure that might not matter while he’s living around ponies, but how long is he going to put up with not having one of those magical marks that you all have, or being smaller than everyone? I’m learning to look past this kind of stuff, but other dragons? I could really help Spike out if he’d stick around, and… and he could really help me, too. Ruling a whole kingdom is harder than I thought… it wouldn’t be so bad with him next to me.”

Rarity’s forelegs left the ground, no doubt putting her and Ember at eye level. Her voice sliced the air like a knife. “You, Princess, clearly have a lot to learn about Spike, and about friendship in general! Goodnight!”

As Rarity turned and trotted away, Spike stared down at his plate. The small mountain of baked gems he’d amassed looked about as appetizing as a pile of dirt. His stomach rumbled angrily, as if to promise him a world of regret should he eat one more bite. He set the plate down and started walking, each footfall tugging at his increasingly vocal stomach. He felt as if he’d swallowed a bowling ball dipped in hot sauce.

He ran a hand down his wingless back as he traversed the underside of the table. His pace quickened as Ember’s words nipped at his heels and tore at his heart. How could her saying ‘not much of a dragon’ hurt so much? How could that undercut everything he’d told Rarity about himself just that morning? Was it because another dragon was saying it, a dragon that was supposed to be his friend?

Soon the still-vacant throne was behind him, as were the wild sounds of the party. Slurred yak songs and dragon laughter echoed up and down the hallway as he left the enormous throne room, on his way to the guest chamber Ember had prepared for him. All she’d really done is have it dusted. His own reflection stared up at him from the polished marble floor, perfectly fitting Ember’s description: a little wingless runt, incapable of being a real dragon or a real pony.

“But that’s not true,” he whispered to his reflection, “right?”

Only bad memories answered him.

His sleeping bag interrupted his downward-facing view, one of the two objects in the otherwise empty room, the other being Rarity’s gargantuan camping tent. A real dragon wouldn’t need either; that had to be why this guest room was just an empty expanse of marble, like a miniature version of the throne room, right down to the same slitted windows that admitted a tiny fraction of the sun or moon’s light.

His sleeping bag felt warm once he crawled into it. Not as warm as his bed at home, or as soft. Still, it would do for the night. Tomorrow they’d go home just like Rarity said. He’d even have one more day with her all to himself, even if it involved a bunch of luggage piled on his back.

“Spikey, are you in here?”

Spike cringed and hid his face in his blanket. He hadn’t even heard the clip-clop of her hooves over the distant sound of the party.

“Ah, there you are,” she was closer now, a few paces shy of standing over his sleeping bag, “I was getting worried when you didn’t come back to the throne.”

Spike steadied his voice. “Oh, y-yeah. I just felt really tired all of the sudden, a-and we’re walking home tomorrow and everything…”

“I suppose it is getting rather late, and without you for company I’d just as soon have nothing to do with that self-serving, tasteless excuse for a dra—err, party.”

Spike gave a small nod. “O-okay. Um… goodnight, Rarity.”

“Goodnight, Spikey.”

Tears filled his eyes as her hoofsteps retreated. “R-Rarity?”

“Hmm? Is something wrong?”

Everything was wrong, all except for her. “Why… why are you such a good friend to me when I'm… Why didn't you just tell me no this morning?”

For several seconds, silence was the only answer. At last she came to the edge of his sleeping bag. “I presume you overheard my conversation with Ember?”

“I-I didn’t mean to! I just—”

He could almost hear her eyes rolling. “Pay her no mind, Spike. She clearly doesn’t know the real you, no matter how badly she might want to.”

“B-but… Can I tell you another secret?”

“Need you even ask?”

He took a deep breath, knowing he’d need it. “The stuff she said… I-I kind of worry about it… a lot. Anybody can cook, or clean, or take notes, but that’s all I’m good at… and who wants that stuff for a cutie mark anyway?”

“Spike—”

“I’m just this short, little… thing. I’m not really a dragon, and I’m not a pony either. I can’t ever be the big, strong hero I want to be. I try not to think about that much, but… when somebody else says it…”

Her hoof rested against his sleeping bag, pressing on his back. “Stop that thinking this instant, darling. Ember merely sees Spike the dragon, not Spike the kind, Spike the thoughtful, and certainly not Spike the brave and glorious.”

“I'm still Spike the dragon, too… the tiny, wingless dragon…”

Her hoof left him. “Wait right there. If telling you the truth isn’t working, I’ll simply have to show you.”

He heard her hoofsteps echo into the distance, presumably towards her tent. She’d sounded strangely matter-of-fact, and yet he had no idea what she was planning.

Her hoofsteps returned, but her hoof on his back didn’t. Instead, the sheet rose from his face, revealing a hovering makeup pen.

“Hold still, Spike.”

“What’re you—”

And then the pen went to work, nearly making him laugh as it tickled his cheek, his forehead, and his nose. Just when he couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer, the pen stopped. He took a deep breath and sat up to face his attacker. “What was tha—”

Instead of Rarity, he saw his reflection in a mirror. His face was now decorated with miniature versions of all his friend’s cutie marks, including Rarity’s and Twilight’s on his temples.

Rarity stepped to the side of the mirror, her smile earnest. “You, my dear dragon, are in no need of a cutie mark, because your special talent couldn’t be more obvious to every pony you know. No matter what any of us needs, you’re there. No matter if it’s saving Equestria for the umpteenth time, shelving library books, or sending letters to faraway ponies, you’re there. You’re always there when we need you, because your special talent is helping others succeed with their own.”

Before he could so much as gasp, she set the mirror aside and hugged him. “Just remember what you told me this morning. You’re simply Spike, and that’s plenty. You needn’t be any more or less than that.”

Spike didn’t know what to say. He returned the hug instead, holding onto her as strongly as he dared, hypnotized by the regular thumping of the heartbeat traveling through her chest to his ear. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind a few stray tears wetting her coat. “Th-thanks. Thanks so much, Rarity. I’ll carry all the luggage tomorrow when we leave. I’d carry it and you for a thousand miles!”

She giggled. “Carrying a portion of it to the nearest train station will be quite enough.”

The question surged through him, the question he said he wouldn’t ask again. He’d never felt closer to her in any sense. If only she felt the same. If only she’d say yes. If only he could pour his heart out now as easily he had that morning.

Instead her forelegs withdrew and the rest of her followed, save for her radiant smile. “Goodnight, Spikey-Wikey.”

He nodded, disappointed and elated all at once. She was five paces away before he found his voice. “Goodnight, Rarity. I… I couldn’t do this without you… I wouldn’t want to, either!”

She froze for a moment, and then quickened her pace. “Goodnight.”

Yak Politics

For a moment Spike thought he’d gone to sleep in a rocking chair, at least until the gentle shaking turned into a full-blown earthquake. He groaned and shifted in his sleeping bag, unable to escape whomever or whatever wanted him awake. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was Rarity, if she was waking him up to make his dreams a reality.

“Wake up already, Spike!” Ember muttered.

Spike sighed and buried his head in the pillow. “What do you want?”

He could hear Ember tapping her claws impatiently. “Look, I’m sorry I’m waking you up and everything, but it’s important!”

“What is it?”

“Can you at least look at me?”

Spike threw off the blanket and glared at her. “What?”

Ember’s lips trembled through her smile. “So… um… how did you sleep?”

“Good until a second ago.”

She shut her eyes and turned away. “Sorry. Sorry if you didn’t have fun at the party either. I sure didn’t.”

He crossed his arms. “Why? Not enough real dragons there?”

“Just the opposite.” she threw up her hands. “I hate this job, Spike! I wish you’d never given me that dumb scepter. You’d be a way better dragon lord than me.”

Spike’s jaw dropped. “B-but you wanted to be in charge… you said you wanted to show how being big and strong isn’t what being a dragon is all about… you said you wanted to change things.”

“Well it’s a way bigger job than I thought!” her shout echoed through the room. “I was so confident and excited at the beginning, but there’s so much to do! This palace is ugly and cold, the dragon lands are practically barren… I had some great ideas about fixing the easy stuff, but then I figured I should actually go and meet my subjects and see where they live. I figured that’d make for a better first impression than just summoning everyone…”

Spike looked on while Ember grimaced. “And? What’d you find out?”

“That half the dragons are idiots that only care about hoarding treasure and sleeping on top of it. I’ve only been dragon lord for a month, but I’m so tired… I’m so tired of doing this all by myself… half the time I don’t even know what I should do or say. And now I… ugh…”

“You… um… you didn’t start another war with the yaks, right?”

She sat next to his sleeping bag, her tail lying limp across him. “Worse. Prince Rutherford just woke up and said he had a great time… moron… He’s a dragon covered in fur…”

Spike shook his head, not believing how quickly his own anger could subside. This was the same Ember that said he was nothing, and here he was trying to help her all over again. “I guess that means you did something right, if the yaks are happy.”

“Not me, you. You did it all… you and your pony friend. It's just like how things were when my dad was in charge: I just have to look nice and smile.”

He stood, stretched, and sat next to Ember. “Hey, I know being in charge is tough, but… but you’re the dragon for the job, not me. I know how to help sometimes, but you’re the one who had the great idea to go visit all your subjects, and you kept the yaks happy last night. There’s got to be some dragons out there that think like you do, and even if there isn’t… that’s why you need to be dragon lord. That’s the only way you can make things better.”

Ember sat there, head bowed and unmoving.

“Ember?”

She shuddered, as if she’d been asleep. “You’re wrong. I… I messed things up again already.”

“What happened?”

“Remember when we all met Prince Rutherford?” Ember grunted out words like a yak. “Yaks come to dragon palace, have party, meet royalty!”

Spike nodded. “We did all that stuff already.”

“Nope. I should’ve asked what he meant by meeting royalty… I figured he meant his meeting me.”

“Then what—”

“His dad’s coming here, the yak emperor. Prince Rutherford said he sent word to him way back when we arranged the party. He’ll be here by noon to meet with me and my ‘royal court.’ ”

Spike fell backwards onto his sleeping bag. “Let me guess…”

“Yep, that’s you and Rarity.”

“This is—”

“Completely insane!” Ember reclined next to him. “Do you see why I’m going crazy now? This just doesn’t stop. Even after the yaks go home, it’ll be some other nosy kingdom that’s hard to please and harder to understand, or the other dragons will realize I’m way too small and nice to be in charge. You know why the dragons have been at peace for a thousand years? You know how many little ‘conflicts’ my dad resolved diplomatically?”

She held up her hand and formed a zero with her claws. “Zip. None. We’ve been at peace for so long because he and every dragon lord before him was the biggest, toughest dragon around that nobody wanted to mess with… then I had to go and grab the scepter…”

Spike glanced over at her. “But if it wasn’t you, it’d be me, and I’m way smaller and… if it wasn’t me, it’d be somebody way worse. The dragons need you, Ember, they really do.”

“What about the yak emperor? What if he’s even more of a hothead than the prince?”

“Then… Then I don’t know. But—” he gulped “—I’ll help you out. We made the yaks happy before, maybe we can do it again.”

Ember released a deep breath and sat up. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but… thanks, Spike. You're an amazing friend. I wish… never mind. I know you’ve got a life with the ponies and everything. I guess I’m just lonely with nobody to talk to… nobody to ask if my ideas are any good.”

Spike stood and, after a moment’s hesitation, hugged her. “I’m sure they’re good ideas. You just need some practice.”

She patted his back. “Thanks, Spike. I guess we’ll find out. I’ll… um… I’ll go get the throne room ready. Those yaks and dragons will probably sleep all day if I don’t wake ‘em up.”

He watched her leave the room, including a glance back over her shoulder to smile at him. Only once she’d left did he dare speak. “What’d I do now?”

Rarity sighed. “Fulfilled your special talent, I’m afraid.”

Spike blushed as he looked over. Rarity stood in her tent’s doorway, sleep mask still perched on her forehead. “H-hi, Rarity. Sleep well?”

Her eyelids drooped, and she stifled a yawn with her hoof. “Far from it. Nevertheless, it appears we’re not leaving first thing in the morning as planned.”

“I-I’m sorry, I just couldn’t—”

“Nor did I expect anything less from you, regardless of what I might have told Ember to do with her precious scepter after how she spoke of you last night.”

“She’s just scared, Rarity, just like Twilight was when she became a Princess.”

Rarity nodded. “Indeed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find some way to get presentable for an emperor. As if dealing with lords and princes wasn’t enough.”

Spike ran toward the tent door. “Can I help?”

The tent’s curtain door slid shut.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh… Well… Want me to bring you some breakfast?”

“No thank you,” she replied in a dry, matter-of-fact voice, “go on without me. I’ll find something on my own.”

Spike frowned and scratched his head. “Oh… I could just wait right—”

“Please, just go on and I’ll meet you later. I need a little time to myself this morning.”

His face fell, and he sagged forward under an invisible weight. He held up a hand, as if to make one last objection, and decided against it. “Okay… I’ll see you in the throne room, I guess.”

Once again, the throne room was unrecognizable. In place of the wall-to-wall crowd stood a near-empty room, polished to the point of glistening in the dim light its windows admitted. No surface, not even the floor under Spike’s feet, had been left unscathed. A few dragons, some still yawning after their late night revelry, leaned against the left wall. The contingent of visiting yaks stood at the right, looking every bit as tired as their hosts.

Spike sat on the dais, staring down at his reflection as well as those of his friends. Ember, seated on the throne, looked surprisingly regal with her robe and scepter. Rarity, sitting on the other side of the dais, wasn’t the same pony he’d talked to yesterday. Her hair and makeup were stunning as always, but her beauty just wasn’t complete without a smile. The happy expression she’d worn almost constantly since they’d first left Ponyville was gone. Instead she sat there, staring off into space while her lips formed the slightest of frowns.

Could she just be tired? She said she hadn’t slept well last night. Spike cleared his throat. “Are you okay, Rarity?”

She didn’t even look at him. “I’m fine, Spike. You don’t need to keep asking.”

Spike wasn’t so sure. “Okay… You’ve just been so quiet all morning and—”

“Surely that’s not a crime. Let’s just focus on getting through this royal visit. I have a great many dress orders at home that I need to see to.”

Ember tapped her scepter against the throne. “When’s this emperor showing up? What do we do when he does?”

Prince Rutherford shambled out of his spot amongst the yaks. Somehow he still managed to shout despite his voice being hoarse. “Emperor arrive very soon. All must bow in his presence!”

Ember nodded. “Right, right. We’ll all bow, but what else is going to—”

The doors creaked open. Spike jumped to his feet as Rarity did the same. “I guess it’ll be a surprise.”

Sunlight flooded the throne room, casting long, horned shadows. Two lines of Yaks clad in golden robes marched in at a trot with a wooden litter suspended between them. The shadow of an enormous pair of horns, easily twice the height of any other yak’s, surged across the floor as the emperor entered. The shape of a crown, a head, and finally a body the size of a pony’s followed. The guards shut the doors behind the procession, finally revealing the emperor in all his glory.

“Behold Yak Emperor,” Prince Rutherford shouted, “all bow!”

Spike bowed, stealing a glance at Rarity as he did. Somehow her bad mood had to be his fault. Was she mad that he’d agreed to help Ember? That didn’t sound like the Rarity he knew. Then again, maybe that was the real problem: maybe he’d misjudged her completely. Maybe they weren’t really getting closer like he thought. Maybe this whole time she’d been trying to figure out how to tell him no, how to let him down gently so he’d stop bothering her.

Ember rose from her bow. “Welcome to the dragon lands, your majesty.”

All eyes turned to the emperor, still seated on the litter that now rested on the floor. The emperor’s horns were at least as tall as he was, which only made his short stature, not to mention his tiny jeweled crown, all the more surreal. Golden robes hid most of his small frame, and flowing brown hair did the same to his face. Was he smiling? Was he even awake?

Prince Rutherford ran to his father’s side and leaned his ear towards him. Unintelligible whispering could be heard as the emperor’s barely-visible jaw worked up and down.

Prince Rutherford looked at Ember next and spoke in his normal shout. “Yak Emperor pleased to meet new dragon lord, will now begin royal meeting.”

The emperor’s guard sprang into action. Wooden slats and poles were pulled from the back of the litter and assembled into a small table just in front of the emperor. Next, two porcelain bowls were set out: one red, and one yellow.

Ember brought her hand to her mouth, quieting a gasp. “Oh no, not this again!”

Spike glanced at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“This is exactly what Prince Rutherford was doing when we first met… something about a ceremonial yak dish for inaugurating new rulers. One bite nearly made me cough up a lung!”

Rarity shut her eyes and groaned. “And so began all our troubles with the yaks.”

“Dragon Lord and royal court will now meet with Yak Emperor, talk, eat, make good impression!” Prince Rutherford shouted.

Spike took a deep breath. “Just… talk, Ember. You do that, I’ll eat.”

Ember’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“I survived Rainbow’s ‘Sonic Rain-Doom’ chili, I’ll be okay.”

He marched toward the table as Ember flew overhead. Rarity came up beside him and whispered in his ear. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Spike? We don’t know if that food is even edible, considering the trouble it’s caused thus far.”

“What else am I supposed to do, watch Ember fail? We’re going home right after this like you want, Rarity, but I’m not going to just turn my back on a friend… even if you kind of don’t like her.”

“Spike, I never said that. Ember and I might have our disagreements, but—”

“Then how come you’re so mad at me? If it’s not Ember, then… I’m afraid to ask what it is… or what I did.”

“My present mood has nothing to do with Ember, but explaining it is rather… I mean… perhaps when we have a moment to oursel—” her whispers dissolved into a fit of coughing.

As soon as Spike opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, he found out for himself. A breath-stealing aroma dried his throat and watered his eyes. Whatever lurked in those bowls was lethal at ten paces.

Ember landed just in front of them and wheezed out a few words. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness. I’m Ember, this is Spike, and this is Rarity.”

Prince Rutherford once again served as the emperor’s mouthpiece. “Yak Emperor surprised to see pony in dragon court.”

Rarity stifled her coughing and gave a small bow. “I-I’m merely a guest of the gracious Dragon Lord Ember, and might I add that relations between dragons and ponies have never been stronger than under her rule. In fact, my friend Spike lives among the ponies of Equestria.”

“Y-yeah,” Spike replied, “dragons and ponies are really good friends. I-I bet dragons and yaks can be, too.”

Ember nodded. “So… we’re all here, what do we talk about?”

Prince Rutherford gestured to the red bowl, the one closest to Ember. “First dragons must begin ceremonial feast. Great honor to eat with Yak Emperor.”

The emperor himself gave a nod.

Spike stood on his tiptoes and reached into the bowl. His claws closed around something squishy and he gave the yaks a watery-eyed smile. “I’m… uh… the royal food taster. Dragon lords have those.”

Ember nodded emphatically. “Yeah! I wouldn’t want my… uh… my sensitive stomach to interrupt our conversation.”

Spike took a brief look at the morsel he’d grabbed, some sort of shriveled bell pepper, and tossed it in his mouth. It couldn’t possibly be as spicy as the smell suggested. He’d just down a few of these to keep up appearances and let Ember and the Yaks do their thing.

And then he bit down. What felt like molten lava oozed through his mouth, setting every tastebud it touched on fire.

The emperor dipped his snout into his own bowl and came up chewing. Somehow he still looked serene, as if his bowl contained only grass.

Ember and Prince Rutherford kept talking, but Spike couldn’t hear a thing over the fire alarms ringing between his ears. Sweat poured down his forehead as he forced his teeth to grind up the pepper into something small enough to swallow. It wouldn’t be so bad once it left his mouth. His stomach wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a spicy pepper and an ice cream cone, right?

The emperor dipped down for a second helping, and Prince Rutherford shot Spike an expectant look. Spike swallowed his mouthful and grabbed a second pepper. The burning sensation he’d expected to fade traveled down his throat, making his stomach rumble and all-but demanding that he cough and gag. He’d belched up cooler fireballs, and if he dared try to clear his throat now he’d prove it.

He rocked back on his heels. Was the room spinning, or was that just the tears in his eyes? Raising a hand to clear his vision was enough to upset his balance; he teetered on one foot for a moment before a foreleg righted him. Spike looked up and saw Rarity next to him, smiling a strained smile as she helped him stay upright. You can do it, Spikey is what he imagined her saying. Whatever he’d done to make her mad, at least she still liked him enough to keep him from falling over. At least they were still friends. The mere thought of losing her friendship completely burned worse than the yak peppers.

With all the finesse of a falling tree, he leaned against her side as he chewed and swallowed his second pepper, and then his third. How long could they keep talking? What if he ate the whole bowl? Would they just bring out another one? If his stomach didn’t explode, maybe they’d knight him. He’d rather have a glass of milk, or possibly a barrel of it.

Suddenly Rarity’s voice reverberated through him. “And it was a pleasure to meet you as well! Travel safely! I’m sure this is the start of a wonderful friendship.”

Prince Rutherford’s booming voice came next. “Yaks and dragons friends for a thousand moons!”

Cheering filled the hall. Spike smiled; cheering had to be a good sign. He knew Ember could do it. Now he could die in peace.

Rarity started shaking him before he got the chance. “Breathe, Spikey, breathe! The yaks are gone!”

All Spike had to do was open his mouth. Red hot fire poured out of him, as if his body was replaying the last twenty minutes in reverse. The fire stopped as suddenly as it started, leaving him staring at a molten, bubbling spot on the throne room floor and his friends crouched behind the thankfully fireproof robe. “Whoa… I… I—”

His stomach seized up again, this time for a pedestrian belch instead of another torrent of fire or worse. A letter materialized out of the plumes of smoke, and Spike collapsed on the floor.

He felt Rarity’s hoof on his forehead a moment later. “Spikey-Wikey! Speak to me!”

“Never… ever… eating yak food again. Ever.”

Ember peered down at him, eyebrows raised and mouth wide open. “You… You did it! I can’t believe you did that for me. I’m… friends with the yaks now!”

Rarity batted her hoof and smiled. “Friends truly are magical, and you couldn't ask for a better one than Spike.”

Spike smiled weakly. “Thanks Rarity, Ember…”

Rarity’s eyes darted to the side. “Oh, what’s this letter you’ve delivered… It appears to be addressed to Dragon Lord Ember?”

He gasped. “Oh… Yeah, I forgot. It’s from—”

Ember already had the envelope open and the letter unfolded. “Dear Princess Ember, congratulations on becoming the dragon lord. My friend Spike told me about all the wonderful ideas you have for your kingdom, as well as your misgivings about being an effective ruler. It would be my honor and pleasure to meet with you on a regular basis to discuss your concerns and to deepen the friendship between our kingdoms. Your fellow ruler and friend, Princess Celestia.”

She lowered the paper, wide-eyed with fear. “Y-you told the pony sun princess how much I’m screwing everything up?”

Spike shook his head, which brought on a fresh wave of nausea. “No! I said you were doing great, but you were lonely here by yourself and could really use a friend who’s had experience being a ruler. She’s super-nice, and she knows everything.”

Rarity nodded. “Spike is absolutely right. If anyone in the world could explain the intricacies of running a kingdom, it’s Princess Celestia.”

Ember groaned. “Did you put him up to this?”

“Not at all. I had no idea Spike even sent a letter, but I for one can’t think of a better solution: we get to go home, and you get unparalleled leadership advice.”

Ember stared down at Spike, her cheeks reddening. “I really wish you’d stay. There’s so much that I—”

Spike belched again and rubbed his belly. “Sorry, Ember. I know you like having me here and everything, but this just isn’t where I belong.”

She shut her eyes and gave a pained nod. “I-I know. It's just… I’ll miss you.”

Before Spike could protest, Ember pulled him into a hug. “Come and visit, okay?”

Another belch was his reply.

Secrets Kept

Spike’s stomach rumbled as he walked, thankfully not with the same ferocity as before. In the hour since they left Ember’s palace, he and Rarity had crested hills and crossed valleys with little more than the sound of their own footsteps to accompany them. Normally she would be doing the talking during trips like these, simply because he’d be too out of breath. She never packed light, and thanks to him she never had to worry about how heavy ten suitcases could be.

Not until today, at least, the day when she’d barely spoken to him, and never with the newfound familiarity and openness he'd come to cherish. He glanced over at her again, just as he'd been doing since they left. Sweat rolled down her neck as she trudged forward, her steps strained and slow under the weight of the luggage piled on her back. Her short, gasping breaths were more than he could take, especially when his backpack was so light.

“Are you sure I can’t carry something? I’ve got two free hands, right here.” he held them out for emphasis.

Rarity grunted. “That… won’t be… necessary. I can… manage… my bags… myself.”

“I know you’ve got it, but I can still help. I like helping, remember?”

Her head whipped from side to side. “No. I’ll do it… mys—aah!”

Her mountain of luggage suffered a minor avalanche. Two bags slid off the top and clattered to the ground at Spike’s feet. He scooped them up in his hands just as her magic started to tug on them. “It’s fine, Rarity. I’ll get these two.”

She turned and glared at him, her sweat-soaked mane flat and tangled. “I said I’d do it myself!”

Spike let go of the bags, stunned. “What’d I say? I-I just wanted to help.”

“Well I wish you’d stop! I told you before… I don’t need a king, I don’t need a knight, and I certainly don’t need a servant!”

“But—”

“And please stop your incessant fawning over me; it’s been insufferable ever since you and Ember woke me up this morning!”

A new kind of fire rose through Spike. He turned away with his arms crossed. “Fine, but I’m just trying to be your friend! Friends help each other! That’s what I was doing for Ember, and that's what I've been doing for you ever since we met, not just today! Did you just start noticing? Some friend you turned out to—”

“Well perhaps you should stop helping me altogether!”

Spike froze. His anger vanished like a snuffed flame. Losing Rarity’s friendship didn’t burn like a spicy pepper, it was just the opposite: he felt empty inside, like he’d lost whatever his scales were supposed to keep in.

Rarity’s luggage toppled to the ground as she rushed to his side, her voice remorseful. “Spike, that… that came out much harsher than I—”

He batted her hoof away before it could touch him. “Let’s just go home… Let’s get back to Ponyville and then and I’ll… I’ll leave you alone. I won't bother you anymore, since that's what you want.”

He marched over to the fallen suitcases and started piling them on his shoulders. “But until we get home, I’m carrying this stuff! I’m sick of watching you work harder than you need to for no good reason!”

Rarity didn’t protest, not even as Spike piled the last of her bags on his back.

“Now let’s go catch the train,” he muttered.

Nothing felt real anymore. Even as Spike lay in his sleeping bag for one extra night, there was a surreal disconnect between his heart and his head. He knew Rarity telling him no was supposed to hurt. He knew the mean things they’d said to each other, especially on the heels of so much blissful openness, were supposed to be devastating. He knew he was supposed to be in emotional agony, and yet he wasn’t. Instead he just felt cold, no matter how tightly he wrapped himself up in his sleeping bag. She really had torn his heart out.

Rain pattered against the tent. The purple wall of fabric next to him vibrated subtly under the rainfall, and violently when the wind gusted. The one thing it didn’t do was relent. Spike was dry, and under normal circumstances might have even considered himself comfortable. If he’d set up his sleeping bag outside when the sun began to set, when they were still hours away from the train station thanks to their journey’s late start, he’d be soaking wet and chilled to the bone. Instead he’d marched through the tent door as soon as Rarity set it up, muttering about the storm clouds overhead. She hadn’t argued, at least in word. If she’d done something more subtle, like frowning or rolling her eyes, he’d missed it. He hadn’t bothered to look at her since he’d commandeered her luggage.

He’d have to look at her eventually, though. Hints of sunlight filtered through the tent walls; night was over, regardless of if he’d slept. Soon enough she’d emerge from the private recesses of the tent’s bedroom and start packing up the essentials she’d gotten out for the night. That process could take hours in favorable weather; how long would it take in the pouring rain?

Spike threw off his blanket and stood. There wasn’t any point in waiting. Even if she didn’t want his help, even if she never did again, he could take care of some basic things like packing up his sleeping bag and getting breakfast ready. Whenever Rarity was ready to go, he would be too. The sooner this whole trip was behind them the better.

He stepped around the tent’s dim interior, amazed by the decor he hadn’t taken notice of the previous evening. Nothing short of magic could’ve made a camping tent this grandiose. How many tents had a foyer and second story balcony? However many there were in the world, none of them could’ve possibly been decorated as artfully as this one. In place of actual furniture, the tent walls were covered in appliqué pictures that turned an already lavish camping experience into a trip through a mansion. The wall closest to him depicted an overstuffed sofa and a set of arched windows, all of which looked just as good as everything else Rarity’s hooves touched. It was no wonder she’d turned him down; his accomplishments and aspirations could never measure up to hers. All he could’ve ever done was slow her down.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Spike jumped and barely stifled a scream, even though the only pony that he could possibly wake was already seated less than five feet behind him. Rarity stared at the rain through the open tent door, her mane drenched and her front hooves drowning in an inch-deep puddle. Tears splashed into the standing water as she cried softly.

“N-no, I… I was already up,” he said.

Rarity sniffled a few times, and Spike couldn’t help wondering if she was as freezing cold as she looked. “May I tell you something, Spikey?”

He touched his claws together. The numbness that’d gotten him through the night was fading. Rarity sat before him, hunched over a puddle of tears and rainwater, and all he could think of was self-preservation. What would she say next? Wasn’t taking his heart enough? He took a small step backward.

“Please?”

The quiver in her voice broke him. She hadn’t stolen his heart, after all; he’d given it to her a long time ago.

He stepped forward, slowly at first, and sat next to her in the puddle. “What is it?”

She continued to face the storm, even as raindrops mixed freely with her still-flowing tears. “It rained like this the first night I spent in my shop. On the eve of what was supposed to be my triumphant march into fashion and independence, it poured all night. That’s how I discovered that the roof leaked… not just in one room… everywhere. I ran around, setting down pots, pans, buckets, vases, and anything else I could find to spare my merchandise and new flooring. And then… then I retreated to a small storage closet under the stairs, the one spot in the whole building that wasn’t wet, and cried until morning. The enormity of the decision I’d made to open my own business, to set out on my own with nopony to assist me… I still felt so strongly that I’d made the right decision, but everything it meant came crashing down on me all at once… There were so many seemingly insurmountable tasks ahead of me, so much to do, so much to plan, so much that I knew I hadn’t even thought of… all on my own.”

At last Spike saw the Rarity he knew again, the one he loved. If only she loved him too. If only she didn’t look as devastated as he felt.

“As the days wore on… As I pulled myself together and began to decorate… I wallpapered over the storage closet’s door and haven’t set hoof in it since. Nopony else knows it exists.”

“Why are you telling me?” Spike whispered. “Why after… everything?”

Rarity blinked away more tears. “Because I’ve had an answer for you for longer than I care to admit, and everything it means… and everything it doesn’t… I’m being torn apart from the inside out! From the second you asked me, I knew that if I dared consider you as more than a friend for a single moment I might not be able to stop… and then, in the midst of all the chaos we’ve faced… I realized I already had. Seeing you help Ember come into her own, and offering that same steadying hoof to you reminded me again and again of my own rough start, and what I would’ve given to have you with me every step of the way. There’s no one else I’d rather have beside me, then or now.”

Spike’s mouth hung open. His heart thundered in his chest: alive, unbroken, but still freshly wounded. “You mean…”

She sank down and buried her face in her hooves. “But I’m so frightened! The mere prospect of beginning a courtship, let alone one with such a wonderful friend as you… It runs counter to all my plans, my dreams, my vision for the future… and walking away from my feelings feels just as terrible! I'm so sorry for the horrible things I said… for angrily pushing you away even as part of me yearned for the opposite.”

Spike knew he was crying, too. Happy or sad, he couldn’t help it. Worst of all was what he had to say next. “You d-don’t have to give me an answer. I-I know you said you would, but… I meant it when I said I wanted you to be happy. A-and if I can’t do that, if I’m just in your way… I want you to be happy, even… even if it’s not with me.”

Rarity raised her head and faced him, utterly devoid of makeup or hair product but still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. “That, Spike, is exactly why my answer is yes. Yes, of course I want us to be more than we were, more than we are now… If you'll still have me.”

He smiled through his own tears, which weren’t stopping. “Of course I will! But your dreams… your career…”

“I’m not giving either up, but I swear upon all things fashionable that I will adjust business trips, spring lines, and haute couture itself to make room for you, for us. I wouldn’t dare ask more than that of you: no matter if your dream is to be Twilight’s assistant or to climb the tallest mountains of Equestria, I will stand by and support you just as you’ve always supported me in whatever way I can.”

Spike looked down at his own hands. Very slowly, he raised them up and wrapped them around Rarity’s shoulders. Her head leaned against his, her cheek brushing his ear, and her breath rolling down his back.

“You feel so cold.” he whispered.

She nodded, an assent all the more intimate for his being able to feel it. “As do you… I-I’m more terrified than cold, really… excited too, but also terrified…”

“I’m… not sure how to fix that… but if you’re cold, I could get us a blanket and… maybe we could talk some more, just like this?”

“I’d love to… perhaps over breakfast? I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of supplies—”

He nodded back. “I’ll cook.”

“And I’ll help.”

Secrets Shared

The picnic basket swayed from side to side, its shadow trailing behind Spike like a second, boxy tail. The silverware inside clinked sometimes, as did the salt and pepper shakers, and the china plates. Maybe he’d gone overboard with the picnic lunch. It was only their first date, after all. Or maybe it was their second, considering the many blissful hours they’d spent in that tent, waiting for the rain to stop, sharing a blanket to keep warm, and talking over a breakfast that became a brunch. He could’ve stayed out there forever, even if she couldn’t. The fashion world wouldn’t hear of her extending her vacation with no advance notice. At least it could stand for her taking an extra long lunch today, her first day back on the job.

He paused a footstep short of reaching the Carousel Boutique’s front door and studied the Closed sign in the window. Never had the building looked so imposing, not even on his numerous failed attempts to bring Rarity flowers or some other impromptu gift. Walking right in was easy when he was just here to help her with some menial task, or to let her know the rest of the gang needed her. Working up the courage to step up to the door with his heart bare like it was now, with the full weight of all he felt for her at the forefront of his mind instead of crammed into a back corner, was terrifying. It didn’t matter that he was expected, or that they’d spent multiple days chiefly in each other’s company and multiple hours wrapped in the same blanket. Everything that came between their first leaving Ponyville and exchanging a long hug goodnight upon their return felt too fantastical to be real. They couldn’t possibly have turned his longtime crush into the beginnings of an actual relationship.

And yet here he was, about to knock on her door so they could begin their first date.

The door opened of its own accord, just enough for Rarity to peek through the opening. “Spikey? Is something wrong? I saw you approaching through the window, and then you just—”

Her voice was all he needed to hear to regain his determination. “Everything’s great! I was just… uh…”

“Nervous?” the door opened further. Her smile was faint at best. “I am, too.”

Spike held up his cargo. “I-I brought the picnic lunch. We could always grab a blanket and take it to the park instead.”

Rarity shook her head, her smile growing. “That’s quite all right. Won’t you come inside? I made us tea.”

He blushed. “Sure.”

Narrow ribbons of light fell from between the nearly-closed curtains, falling over the clothing racks and mannequins crowded around the windows. The wall by the stairs stood bare and unobstructed, save for a tea service for two waiting on a tray. Spike cracked his knuckles and went to work, rapping his claws against the wallpaper and listening to the sound.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, just as he had when she first proposed this idea during the rainstorm.

“Absolutely,” Rarity replied, “I’ve been looking forward to it, despite my misgivings.”

Spike couldn’t help smiling, even if Rarity was behind him. The knock of his claws against the wall took on a deeper note, the sound of a hollow space. “Me too. I’m not taking too much time away from your dressmaking, right? I’m sure you’ve got a bunch of extra work to do since we were gone so long.”

“It’s fine, Spikey, it really is. Fashion is my career; it will still be there in an hour or two, and I’m sure I can count on you to help me work through the backlog.”

He pressed the point of a claw against the wallpaper, in search of a seam. “Two hours just for lunch?”

“I’m hardly eating on my own, after all. I intend to take full advantage of whatever time we have together, especially when we need to discuss weighty topics like when to tell our friends about our relationship, and how.”

“I know, a-and I totally want to. I just… Remember what you said about romance getting in the way of your career?”

Rarity sighed. “Yes, I remember, and I’d like to rephrase my statement about business being fraught with risks. Business, and indeed life itself, is full of opportunities. Fashion is a marvelous opportunity that I devote a great deal of time to, and that’s how I’m going to treat our relationship: a lifelong opportunity for happiness, one that I intend to invest whatever time and energy is needed to make it succeed.”

His claw sank into a gap, an open space between a hidden door and its frame. He ran his claw down the gap, precisely cutting the wallpaper as he did. “I would’ve settled for an ‘I like you, Spike.’ ”

“Very well: I like you, Spike. I like you very, very much. Would you be my special somepony? Would you like to come by the boutique this afternoon for lunch?”

Spike’s knees buckled. He faced Rarity with a huge smile. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear—”

Rarity leaned forward and touched a hoof to his lips as a smile crossed her own. “I have far more than an idea. I only ask that you contain your enthusiasm long enough to finish reclaiming a long-neglected corner of my shop.”

He nodded emphatically. “Right, right, the wall!”

He turned around and ran his claws through the remaining wallpaper. The outline of a doorway began to form, slanted at the top to follow the shape of the staircase above. Last came a small hole near the edge where a doorknob was meant to be installed. “There, that’s it!”

She took a deep breath and lit her horn. “I do hope it’s not too dusty…”

The door’s hinges creaked as they turned. The room’s meagre light flooded a small alcove with a slanted ceiling, bare walls, and carpet-free floor. Rarity cringed. “Ooh, it’s just as filthy as I remembered… and just as—” she covered her eyes and sniffled “—I-I’m sorry I’m crying again. The last time I… it was such an awful night.”

He wrapped his arms around her as best he could. “I know. That’s why you said you wanted to do this, to replace the bad memories with good ones, right?”

She nodded. “Yes… and more than that.” she lowered her foreleg and marched to the door. “That night, I faced the uncertain future alone. That won’t be the case today, will it?”

He stood next to her and, with one coordinated step at a time, crossed the threshold.

Rarity ducked under the closet’s the low ceiling, her resolute steps becoming careful shuffles that stirred up dust. “It’s certainly as cramped as I remembered…”

Spike squeezed past her and swept the floor with his tail. “Want me to go get a broom?”

“That’s quite all right. We’re already covered in dust, after all…”

At last they were seated, facing each other with little room to spare. Spike glanced at the shop, the familiar world that he was next to but definitely not part of. He was sitting in a time capsule, a dusty artifact of a night long past, and not a happy one. “So… Here we are…”

She nodded, her eyes darting from him to the closet wall to the picnic basket. “Yes. I-I confess I hadn’t really thought this far ahead. Memories aside, it is just a dusty old closet with barely enough room for two… Eating our lunch at the park or even in the kitchen would be far more comf—”

His lips touched her nose. “I think it’s kind of romantic… it’s like a secret place we get to share… a secret we can keep together.”

Rarity’s cheeks went red and her mouth hung open. Spike had no hope of smiling confidently, not with his heart thumping like a drum and his brain insisting he’d made a huge miscalculation. He tried all the same, stretching his lips into what he knew was the dumbest, least romantic look of all time.

Her wide-eyed stare slowly morphed into a smile, and a small giggle followed. “Perhaps you’re right, Spikey-Wikey… but I might need slightly more convincing.”

He leaned in as she did the same, hesitating only as their noses found their way past each other.

As their lips met, Spike knew their hearts had truly done the same, never to part.