In a bloom, Spike’s problems began. Not with a whimper, but with a letter plopping magically onto his chest, a royal insignia dressing it.
Slowly, Spike woke up, groaning. “H-Huh? What’s this?”
He reached out to grab the letter. As quickly as someone who was sleeping could unravel a message, Spike opened it and began reading…
...only to quickly realize that his time was running out.
“Oh man…” Spike dared a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “Oh man! I’m gonna be late!”
Spike became frenzied. He rushed towards his wardrobe, grabbing every bit of clothing he needed to make this night perfect: undershirt, overshirt, vest—the whole nine yards. He couldn’t even keep track of it; he just had to wear it all to make himself look nice. He didn’t want her to think he just thought of her at the last minute. That would be a nightmare to behold, one that he didn’t want to be a reality.
But in his frenzy, he stopped for a moment and looked at himself. It was funny, really. Amid putting on this nice button-down shirt, he realized how grown up he was now. He stood taller than most stallions. Yet he still had just as many issues with getting dressed properly, like sticking his arms through this stupid shirt—it reminded him of when he was a kid. Luckily he found a special tailor who designed a shirt that can’t be ripped by dragon spines.
After making sure his shirt didn’t strangle him to death, Spike double-checked that his tie was straight. Thankfully, the mirror in front of him was there to help… Man did that tie make his spines pop. Spike smoothed back his spines and snapped his fingers at the mirror. “Nice,” he murmured. “She’ll love this.”
He then scampered out the room, the door reading 1408 clapping against the frame.
The dragon scampered down the hall, looking for an elevator or a way down, but every door down this hall of his led to another room that was either empty or… well, he wished he didn’t remember what was in room number 1432. He just wished he heard what was going on behind the door before he accidentally opened it and they screamed. What those two ponies were going to do with that floor waxer was something he didn’t need to see. It wasn’t like he meant to do that.
Despite his little mishap, he, with tremendous effort, found a stairwell. It only took him a few dozen apologies to get there. He didn’t waste any time, nearly flying down the stairs without a moment’s notice. A few innocent passersby caught a dragon wing to the face in the process, but his end game outweighed the means.
He didn’t want to not check out of the place though. After knocking all those ponies down like that, he had to do something.
Unfortunately, checking out of a hotel for Spike meant waiting for somepony to notice his existence. He glanced back and forth across the check-in counter and couldn’t see anypony there.
“Uh… hello?”
He thought one of the ponies upfront would have heard him, what with his chaotic and borderline-misdemeanor arrival, but apparently, seven-fifteen was too late in the evening for good customer service. He couldn’t even see any hotel staff in the lobby. Luckily for him, there was a surefire way to get their attention. All he had to do was press it.
On cue, a stallion materialized behind the counter. “Hello, sir, how may we help you?”
Spike wanted to point out the obvious, saying that they should be doing their job. But even though they probably were outside smoking in the back, he didn’t want to cause any problems. He already had one that was on his plate, and he didn’t need another to ruin his day.
“Just wanted to let you know I’m checking out.”
“Checking out what?” The stallion said. He did smell like he smoked out back.
“Of the hotel. What else would I be checking out?”
The stallion shook his head. “Never mind. I… apologize. Name?”
“Spike, but it might be under Twilight Sparkle.” Spike couldn’t help but glare at the guy, even tapping his claw against the counter.
Spike imagined that this guy hated his job. Probably wanted to tell him to leave anyway, not that he cared. Why was Spike doing this anyway? He could’ve been on his way, but he decided to deal with this stallion’s attitude. Oh well, at least the guy was almost done signing him out. He just had to scribble down some nonsense and he’d be on his way out.
“Done!” The stallion said ever-so-excitedly. Spike held his breath. “Have a good day!”
Spike didn’t even say good day back. He zipped out of there without any time to spare. All that was left in the aftermath of his escape was a stallion whose mane looked like a trailer park that made sweet love to the business end of a tornado, while the rest of the innocent bystanders watched in horror.
He checked the wristwatch he had thankfully remembered to put on before leaving the hotel room. Seven-twenty. He still had forty minutes to get there before the destination would be closed for the night. It was all the way across town, but thankfully he had arranged a carriage to pick him up. He couldn't very well have his suit getting messed up before such an important night.
He glanced around for it. He was five minutes late past the pickup time, but it should still be around here some—
“Ay! Dragon! Over here!”
Spike turned his body around to face the street corner behind him. Sure enough, there was a carriage awaiting him. Nothing too fancy, just a purple and blue one with an open top, but it got the job done.
“Oh, thank you so much for waiting,” Spike said, dashing up to him. “I’m running just a little behind, but we can still make it if we hurry.”
The stallion gave him a curt nod. “Understood. We should have plenty of time, though. No worries. Hop on up.”
Spike did just that. He took little care climbing in as far as gracefulness goes. It didn’t matter, though. He just needed to get there in one piece and before eight.
“So,” the stallion said, turning back to the now seated dragon. “Your letter mentioned you were headin’ to the Canterlot Gardens, right?”
“You betcha,” Spike replied. “It’s a pretty important night, to say the least.”
“Huh,” the stallion said with a sly grin. “You got a mare waiting on you, dont’cha?”
Spike felt the knot in his stomach make its first appearance of the night. “Yeah… you could say that.” He put on his best, trying-not-to-look-awkward grin. “And I really can’t be late.”
“Say no more, say no more,” the driver replied. “I know how it is. It’s a bit of a ride over there from here, but I’ll get you there with time to spare!”
He reared up on his hind legs from a moment before taking off at a brisk pace. Spike nearly bounced out of his seat but was quickly able to adjust himself and begin to relax.
He couldn’t help but think on what the driver said. A mare waiting on him… He was right about that. Just processing what was happening, what tonight meant from him and her… he had to take a few deep breaths to get rid of the nausea he could feel building inside him.
He didn’t even know what he was feeling. Nervousness? Dread? Excitement? Love? The sense of impending doom? All these feelings ran together in his head in a flash flood of emotion, drowning out any rational thought he could have.
She was waiting for him. And he would be there for her like he always had been. She’d always been there for him, too.
Spike chuckled a bit. Yeah, she had always been there for him. One night stood out the most. One where she was there for him big time…
“This is it, boys. The final battle! It’s life or death now! No turning back!”
A chorus of oohs and aahs could be heard throughout the darkened room. In the center laid a table with three beings surrounding it: two stallions and a dragon.
Spike, looked across the table at his nemesis, a pink unicorn stallion with a black and pink mane. He snorted at him, the giant board and map dressing the table being the only thing that separated them.
The third pony, the dungeon master, spoke once again. “Alright, Poptart. It’s time. You dash past the falling rocks and face the dragon menace. With no health potions or magic at your disposal, what do you do?”
Poptart darted his eyes back and forth over the few pages of notes he had lying around. He bit his lip, quivering with nervousness.
“What’s the matter?” Spike spoke up with a confident glare. “Afraid of a little dragon fire, are we?”
Poptart took a deep breath and shook his head. “No! Of course not!” His eyes widened as something clicked in his head. He turned to the dungeon master. “I’m going to take the mead bottle and nuclear hot sauce I got from the restaurant earlier and throw it into the dragon’s mouth!”
A centralized gasp could be heard from the entire crowd.
Poptart continued. “The nuclear sauce should combine with the alcohol to make an extremely corrosive substance. And once it contacts the dragon’s fiery insides, it’ll be all over!”
“No way!” Spike pleaded. “That’s impossible!”
The dungeon master, however, was currently flipping through a large book. “No, wait! The hot sauce is made with three types of peppers, one of which dragons are highly allergic to. I’ll allow it!”
Spike gulped.
“But,” the master continued. “With the dragon’s natural defense and dexterity, only an attack roll of the highest order will succeed. And if you fail, well… May the Gods be with you. Are you willing to take that risk, Poptart?”
He nodded. “I’m ready for whatever fate awaits me.”
“I see…” The master pointed to the hushed crowd surrounding them. “Here it is folks. He must roll an eighteen or higher to succeed on the attack. And then, he must hope and pray that the dragon doesn’t make the required savings throw to avoid certain death” After a brief pause, he turned to Poptart once more. “ROLL THE DICE!”
Poptart needed no further motivation, and he cast his twenty-sided die onto the table. It spun around and around for seconds, minutes, weeks even. Spike eyed it closed before it finally stopped.
The entirety of the audience collectively inhaled, none daring to release their breath after witnessing what just happened.
The dungeon master finally broke the stunned silence. “He rolled a NAT! TWENTY! HE DID IT!”
Poptart’s face was that of pure jubilation, tears pouring from his eyes and a smile wider than the sun itself. Spike on the other claw, was staring in disbelief as the master continued.
“IT’S OVER! THE FIGHT IS OVER! Spike the Dragon is down! Spike the dragon…. IS DEAD! All hail Poptart, the winner of the Ogre’s and Oubliettes Championship Cup!”
Spike still stared on as two scantily clad and beautiful mares emerged holding a large trophy. They gave it to Poptart before planting a kiss on his cheek and walking off into the shroud of victory together.
Spike merely fell to the ground, having not blinked even once since the die came to a stop.
“...I lost. How did I lose?”
The question just floated on by. Not one pony came by to answer his question. He was alone, while the rest of the crowd had left him behind.
Well, all except one that is.
“Spike?”
He knew who that was. “Rarity?”
He had turned around to see her. She was smiling at him. She was also… wearing a tee-shirt that through him in for a loop. It had his face on it, something that he would never imagine her wearing. And she was holding a sign in her magic that said, “You can do it, Spike!” in purple and green. It was like…
“You came?”
“Well of course I did, darling!” Rarity helped the poor dragon up off the ground. “Wild timberwolves couldn’t have stopped me from being here to support you! After all, this is one of the most important Annual Ogres and Oubliettes tournaments this year!”
“But I didn’t tell any of the girls that I was doing this. How did you—”
“A lady does not share her secrets,” Rarity replied with a smirk. She cast her sign aside and sat down. “But she does share her motive, in some cases. When I heard about your tournament, I knew this was important to you, and… well, I couldn’t let the dragon that had supported me through thick and thin be alone when he needed somepony to cheer him on for a change!”
Spike stood there, gobsmacked. Rarity had come to cheer him on. She came to cheer him on, and he blew it.
“I’m sorry that you didn’t win, Spike,” Rarity continued, her gaze more glazed with concern.
“Nah, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Spike replied. He looked away from her. “It’s just a tournament; there will always be next year.”
Inside, Spike felt his heart tear to pieces. Yeah, there was always next year, but he wanted to win this year, and he almost had it! But that lucky NAT twenty rolling, RNG-praying Poptart sniped it from his claws! It just made his scales crawl just thinking about it.
But Rarity didn’t buy his words. No, Rarity thought those were an abysmal choice of words, in fact.
“Spike, he got lucky on a last-ditch effort to beat you—”
“I know!” Spike shouted in frustration. He puffed out a bit of smoke from his nostrils. “He got so lucky on that roll!” The dragon stood up and growled. “If only I got a better roll on that fire blast I sent his way! He would’ve been toasted.”
They looked at each other.nd then they laughed so hard that they rolled on the ground.
“D-Did Twilight tell you that I was here?”
“Y-Yes,” Rarity wheezed out in a reply. “And y-you’re not upset about this at all, are you?”
“Nah,” Spike said between bouts of laugh and smoke. “But Poptart better be ready for next year, because I got this competition in the bag.”
The two shared a quick hug. “Thanks for coming, Rarity.”
“I’ll always support you, Spike,” Rarity said, planting a small kiss on his cheek. “Always.”
Spike released a nervous chuckle, his face heating up ever so slightly. “Even if it involves knocking a knight out with a NAT twenty?”
Rarity sputtered out a laugh. “Even if it does.” The two eventually separated, both smiling from ear-to-ear. “How about we go get some dinner to celebrate?”
Spike’s smile grew even more extensive. “You wanna hit up Curly Fry’s place? Haven’t been there in a while.”
“That sounds delightful, darling.” Rarity instinctively licked her lips. “I’ve been craving a good dose of junk food.”
They walked out of the venue, laughing and smiling all the while.
Those were the times. He hadn’t been there since then. Why didn’t he go back? Spike couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he was stuck in a carriage and—
“Hey, dragon?”
The voice shocked him out of his reverie. It was the carriage driver again. “Yeah?”
“You alright? You’ve been pretty quiet back there.”
“Just thinking…” Spike responded lamely.
The driver let out a blow. “I remember those days too when mares made me think.” The sounds of his hooves clip-clopping down the concrete streets of Canterlot made it hard to tell what he was saying. “Now I don’t think. The wife just tells me what to do.”
Spike laughed. “Wish I could relate.” He leaned forward. “Say, how much farther?”
“‘Bout a couple more blocks,” the stallion replied. The pitter-patter started to slow. “Why, ya want out early? Got some pre-celebration jitters?”
Spike didn’t realize, but his claws were shaking a bit too much, and his spines on his head felt numb. How the driver knew he had jitters like this was beyond his comprehension. “A bit.”
The driver didn’t respond. First, Spike heard the carriage come to a halt, skirting close to what Spike thought was the side of the road. Then, he listened to the stallion neigh loudly, before the door to the carriage swung open.
“Come on out, boy,” the stallion ordered.
Spike hopped out the carriage and into the twilight. Some stars had come out to dance, while the rest of the sky was a deep violet, slowly fading towards darkness. . There were very few ponies out to see this; they probably were already at the place partying the night away. And yet, here he was, turning to see the driver of his carriage, who was glaring at him like he was before, only this glare felt different. How? Spike couldn’t put a claw on it.
Well, until the stallion spoke, “What’s got those jitters goin’?”
Spike frowned. “Nothin’.”
That must’ve not been the answer the stallion was looking for. “Never had nothin’ get me like it’s got you.”
Spike looked down. The driver was right. How he was standing still with his legs quaking like that was beyond him too.
“Maybe I’m just nervous about everypony else,” Spike said. “I don’t want them to think I forgot about the event.”
A long, gravely hum was all Spike heard. Why was the stallion so curious? Didn’t he have to get him to the venue before he was late and couldn’t get in?
“I know what you’re thinking. We have ten minutes to spare.”
“But we need to get to the venue and—”
“Sir, we’re right outside the venue.”
Spike’s eyes widened. Why didn’t he look past the carriage? “Wow… how did you do that?”
“Magic’s the short answer. The long answer ain’t important,” the stallion began. He pointed his hoof at Spike. “The important thing right now is you steppin’ through the doors and getting those jitters out of you.”
“And what about—”
“Whatever that nothin’ is won’t matter none unless you let it matter, you understand?” The stallion replied. He unattached himself from the carriage and slapped Spike on the back. “Now get!”
“Alright, alright! Yeesh!” Spike said, brushing himself off.
“Didn’t hit ya that hard, boy.” The stallion rolled his eyes and leaned against his carriage.
Spike sighed and thanked the driver for his time. All the driver did was wave. That was a carriage ride to remember.
Slowly but surely, Spike walked towards the venue. It was… well, he could appreciate the decor. Pinned on the top of the giant arbor archway was a long sign that read, “Congratulations!” in purple and white. And as he walked through, the pristine nightlife of the Canterlot Gardens blossomed forth. Trees, flowers, and shrubbery were all around. He was half-expecting for some birds to fly on by and start tweeting, but they were nowhere to be found. Guess they were inside with Fluttershy or something.
Spike looked around. Nopony else was outside. He was alone, just to let time tick-tock away until he entered at the last second to make himself known. Well, he actually didn’t want to do this, and yet here he was twiddling with his claws and adjusting his tie.
“Why am I doing this?”
His heart responded, pumping louder and louder in his ears. Of course, the feeling was back. Why? Why was he feeling this way? It was like he was on a cloud, weightlessly touching something that he thought would explode due to his big meaty claws sinking into them. And the pit of his stomach was more than just aflame. Raging, the fire was, burning an emptiness that wouldn’t perish into ash if he tried.
He closed his eyes. Maybe if he just took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, the feeling would magically go away. Yeah, that was it. That’s what was going on. It was nothing else. He just needed to let go, breathe, and calm down before walking in and—
The sounds of hoofsteps closing in on him made his heart stop. Who was coming? And why were his spines on end?
“Now hold onto me, dear.”
Wait… Spike recognized that homey, excitable accent anywhere. That was Rarity’s mom! He had to hide! He had to hide!
Quickly, Spike scanned his surroundings. Hiding behind a tree was out of the question—Rarity would see him from where they were coming. He needed to hide in a bush, even if it ruined his suit. He didn’t want her to see him now.
Without much time to spare, he hopped into a nearby bush, catching a branch to the snout in the process, and waited.
And there she was.
Rarity, dressed in pure white lace that glittered with gold, was trying to trot towards the venue doors.
“Mother, I don’t need you to hold me up,” Rarity whined.
The veil that she wore made her look… beautiful;o beautiful that his heart swelled. “I know, this is more of assurance for me than you.” She laughed. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you to trip and have something pierce the veil we bought you.”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Mother, please. That would only happen if somehow father decided to trip and fall, not me.”
“You’re not wrong. He almost tripped trying to hold onto me when crossing the threshold!”
Spike saw Rarity cover her face with her hooves. “Mother!”
“What?” Rarity’s mother said, opening the door to the venue.
Rarity huffed as they entered. “Nothing like that is going to happen. Everything will be perfect. It has to be…” Rarity turned her eyes to the sky for a moment. “I just really hope he’s not late like he is with everything else.”
The door slammed shut, cutting off her voice. All that was left was Spike sitting in a bush, alone.
“They’re gone,” Spike said, hopping out of the bush and dusting off a bit of leaf on his arms. He turned and looked at the door. There she was, through the glass, talking to her mother. She was in the best dress he had ever seen. He didn’t know how to explain it any further than that, but he knew what was happening. Everything looked blurry for some reason.
“Huh?” Spike rubbed his eyes. Tears smiled back. “Why am I…?”
And then he remembered. He remembered why everything was like this. It was a while back, and he was minding his own business. Then, he found himself knocking on Rarity’s front door…
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Spike patiently waited outside the door of the Carousel Boutique. It was a bit cold outside, not surprising though. The stars were already high in the sky, and early Spring nights still carried a hint of winter’s chill.
No answer.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
This time, his rapping on the door earned a response from the other side. He could hear what he thought were… sniffles?
“Mmmph. Who is it?” a cracked voice rang out.
“It’s me, Spike!” he called back. “I brought you some of that ice cream you like. We had an extra tub at home because Starlight doesn’t know the meaning of moderation, so I thought—”
He had no time to finish his sentence as the door swung open and the ice cream was snatched from his hands. Before he had a chance to walk in after it, the door shut again in his face, leaving him high and dry in the cold.
“Um, Rares?” He called out, attempting to breach the wooden blockade. “Can I come in for a sec?”
The sniffling had now turned into hushed sobbing. “No, Spike. Please, leave me to my misery! Nopony needs to see me like this, especially you!” She levitated over a tissue and blew her nose, before tossing the item carelessly to the floor.
Spike let out a breathy sigh and turned his eyes to the heavens. It was going to be one of those nights again. For as amazing as she was and as much as he cared about her, she was a bit heavy on the drama sometimes. At least he was used to it.
“Rarity, it’s okay! I promise!” He turned the door handle and gently cracked the door open. “I’m coming inside so we can talk about it, okay?”
He cautiously entered into the room. As messy and disorderly as the room was, what with clothes and fabric thrown everywhere, it didn’t hold a candle to the mare sitting on the sofa, eating ice cream straight from the tub. Her mane was a wreck, with more splits, turns, and twists than a poorly written stage play.
He approached her as one might approach a dangerous wild animal. Rarity could be unpredictable when she was in a mood. She might lunge out and hug him with all her might, or she might toss the nearest object at his face. It was best to be cautious.
“Rarity?” he said, finally close enough to make solid eye contact with her. “I’m worried about you. The last time you were like this you went on a rampage and tried to bring bellbottom jeans back in style. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
At first, silence held a firm grasp on to the two of them, ruling the room in an eternal reign. She turned her head, staring off outside, looking as far away from his eyes as possible. That was perfectly fine with him. As long as she was not ravenously scarfing down all that ice cream, he was safe from harm’s way. Last time he let her eat all the ice cream, she complained to him all week about gaining so much weight. He didn’t want to have to deal with another week’s worth of headaches.
Then, she turned back to him and patted on the open spot beside her. “Come over here, Spike, and I’ll tell you.”
Spike gulped. This was both a trap and an invitation to get closer to her. He loved any excuse to spend time with her, but he also enjoyed relaxing nights without baggage and tears. He had to be careful and cautious like Daring Do, except without the desire to get anywhere near a tomb full of scorpions and treasures. He only had one treasure in mind, and, well, she was worth the effort.
So, he decided to keep with his slow approach, carefully putting a bit of separation between him and Rarity. He didn’t want to step on her hooves, after all, especially when she was this stressed out.
“So, darling, did Twilight tell you anything?”
Spike raised a brow at that. “Did she tell me anything?”
Rarity’s gaze darted away from him. “About… Poptart and I?”
The way she said that made him take pause. Why would Twilight know about that? She was way too busy with tax reforms and other mumbo jumbo. Besides, she wasn’t one to gossip about stuff, well, unless it pertained to him. Then it was a big deal.
“No, she didn’t tell me anything,” Spike said.
Rarity let out a huge sigh. Spike couldn’t tell if she was relieved or not, but she knew one thing: the room wasn’t as tense as it was before. She was trying to hold up a smile for him, something that he didn’t think would’ve happened this fast. What did Poptart do to her?
“Good,” Rarity began. She held back another sniffle. “I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, though. You’re here anyway, and now you know what happened.”
Spike shook his head. “I don’t know, Rarity. I’m just confused. What happened?”
Rarity frowned. “Poptart was…” She gulped. “... cheating on me!”
“Cheating on you?” Spike said with a gasp. Instinctively, his claws curled into fists. “Where's that ungrateful coward!”
Rarity waved her hooves back and forth. “Please, Spike, calm down. I… I at least think he was cheating on me. Maybe…”
Spike felt his muscles loosen ever so slightly. “Wait a minute? You think he was cheating on you maybe?” He scratched his head. “I’m confused.”
“Well, he wasn’t exactly cheating, but…” A few more tears streamed down her face. “But he may as well have been!”
Spike rose a brow. “Hold on a second. Now, he either was, or he wasn’t. You’re gonna have to explain it to me.”
Rarity paused and licked her lips. “Well, it all started when we were going out to eat for the night. He was treating me to this nice dinner down at The Upper Crust.” She leaned back on the couch. “Usually they had a little troupe playing some classical music for the customers, but the music was absent...”
Spike listened intently as she explained the restaurant. Beautiful, fancy, and full of that over-the-top frou-frou that Spike grew to hate and love. It was like a necessary evil: it was a great place to take a date to, but the amount of silverware was so unearthing that it made Spike’s head spin. The white cloths that draped over the tables there also bothered Spike, but he wasn’t a critic, and he certainly wasn’t liable for tearing a hole through one of them on accident.
“Then, when the waitress came up to the table, he asked her how her day was going!”
Spike nearly smacked back to reality with Rarity’s shrill squealing. That was not something he wanted to hear again anytime soon. “Well, what’s wrong with that?”
Spike furiously smacked his claws against his mouth. His mind had a death wish, and indeed, with that glare she was giving him, she was going to unload all of what was wrong with that statement with a few too many cross-stitches.
“Spike, there is so much wrong with that! He never asked me how my day was! He usually looks at me, smiles, and then proceeds to grab me by the hoof and drag me all over Ponyville!”
“I see…” Spike wasn’t quite sure at how to respond. It sounded like he was being friendly; not being a bad boyfriend. “Rarity, I’m sure he was just—”
“But, but… That’s not all, Spike!” She gently placed a hoof on his claw and looked at him with the most solemn, teary-eyed expression he had ever seen. “Later, he said he had to use the restroom, but instead, I saw him talking to her by the bar! And they were laughing! And when he came back, he pretended as if nothing had happened!”
And then the wailing began once more. It was like standing outside when a storm had been scheduled for the day. It was just a torrential downpour of emotion and anger. How she was holding all this in befuddled him.
The situation with Poptart and this mystery mare did him just as much confusion as the flash flood of liquid angst he was about to endure. Why did Poptart talk to that mare? It sounded like an ordinary date until he did that. And at the bar of all places? Even though he knew full well, he was on a date with Rarity? None of it made any sense. Maybe she’s not telling him something.
Or maybe Poptart was cheating on her.
Spike sighed. “Look, Rarity, what do you want me to say?”
“That I’m right!” Rarity replied as she crossed her forehooves and pouted.
In mid-pout, Spike didn’t realize that she had scooched over closer to him, her fur mingling with his scales. It tickled his side slightly, but it didn’t serve as much of a distraction as it should’ve. Maybe this whole cheating thing was bothering him. Yeah, that’s what it was.
Spike cleared his throat. “Okay, well, you don’t have any proof that he was cheating on you. Maybe they were old friends, and he just wanted to say hi?” Yeah, that made sense. That sounded relatively mature, right?
Rarity grimaced. “You don’t make an old friend laugh in supposed secret and then lie about it to your date, Spike. That’s simply not how it’s done…”
Alright, time to try again.
Before responding, he took a moment to look at her. She was broken up, and it hurt his soul to see. The idea that anypony would ever cheat on her was utterly outrageous. How could anyone turn away from her beautiful eyes, wonderful sense of humor, and endearingly sweet personality? She was as close to perfect as a pony could come.
...And she hadn’t bothered to lift her hoof from his claw this entire time. In fact, she’d only moved closer.
“Spike?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?” he replied, his voice audibly shaking.
“I just…” She used her free hoof to wipe a stray tear from her eyes. “I just wish I could find a stallion who appreciates and respects me…” Rarity scooted even closer to him and placed a hoof on his claw. “Somepony kind and sweet.” Her eyes turned away and briefly locked on something across the room.
Spike followed her gaze with his own until he saw it. The necklace hanging on a hook by her dresser. The necklace with the heart-shaped ruby he gave to her all those years ago. Why was she looking at that? He didn’t know, but he knew one thing: when he turned back, her gaze was once more fixated on him.
She leaned further into him. Spike’s heart rate was now a kick pedal beating against his chest. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but every centimeter of space between them that disappeared caused his stomach to drop and his heart to flutter into the sky. He attempted to move his claw, but she still had a firm grasp on it.
There was no denying it. This was his chance. She knew how he felt and maybe she felt the same now. He could finally show her how much he cared. How much she meant to him. He loved her, and this was everything he wanted. But maybe… Maybe this was the wrong time.
“Spike.” She whispered.
But if he did anything right now, would things ever be okay between them?
“I just want…”
He just wanted her to be happy. To keep smiling.
“...to find somepony…”
And Poptart was the one who made her smile the most.
...like y—”
“Poptart!”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “Popta—”
“Yeah!” Spike shouted. “Poptart probably just said it all wrong when he meant to say that he was sorry! Remember, we males are complete idiots!”
What was he saying? He shouldn’t be saying all that! And yet… he did.
And just like that, she scooted away from him. The fur no longer mingled with his scales. She was no longer whispering to him. She was so far away that the couch felt too cold to sit on.
He had to fix this. He had to!
“Spike…”
“Look, I said something stupid,” Spike began, his mouth speaking faster than he could think. “Everything will be back to normal soon, trust me. You’ve been together with him for months now, and I know he cares about you, so there’s no way he’d cheat on you!”
This wasn’t fixing it at all… At least not for himself.
Rarity cast a soft glance at him. In the light, it looked like she was crying still, but he knew that wasn’t the case. She was happy now, that was for sure. Yeah, that’s what was going on.
“Thank you, Spike,” Rarity said, smiling. “I believe you.”
Believe in what? “You do?”
She nodded curtly. “Of course. Usually, whenever you say something, it most likely happens.”
“Most likely?”
A hum of approval was all he heard.
Spike was torn. Yeah, whenever he said something, it usually did happen. Well, unless it was about Twilight. Most of the time he was wrong. He still hasn’t figured her out yet.
“Well, I’m glad you think so.” He didn’t say the words so much as they tumbled out of his mouth. Trying to breathe wasn’t a thing, it just happened so effortlessly, yet it burned so painfully. She didn’t need to know. He just needed to leave.
“I think I need to be heading on back. Twilight’s probably worried about me. You remember last time that happened?”
Rarity laughed. “She made sure to get a search party ready.” The unicorn hopped off the couch. “Thank you for stopping on by. You really helped me, Spike.”
“Hehe, it was my pleasure,” Spike replied as he made his way towards the door. He shakily opened it. “Well, see you around.”
“See you…” Rarity breathed.
As the dragon made his way out the door, the last flicker of hope fell from Spike’s face.
He knew that he had messed up even worse than Poptart that day. He lost a battle, sure. But that battle was the turning point. If not for that defeat, he wouldn’t have lost the war.
Spike tore his gaze away from the door. He didn’t need to see any more of the scene to know what was to come, but he knew he had to anyway. It was his duty to her, after all. It was time to tie the knot. It was time to be the dragon she wanted, not what she needed.
So, he too followed suit, his claws grappling onto the door. The door swung wide. The place was fancier than any dinner at The Upper Crust. No, scratch that, it was more decorative than Canterlot itself. How they managed to get a chandelier that looked like an artifact from the olden days made Spike wonder if Twilight got lucky on those tax breaks. No, it was totally Princess Celestia. She was a bit more of a fan of the candle-lit soirees than anyone else.
Candle-lit it was. Several hundred to be precise. They marked the path to the front of the venue, and up to where the bridesmaids and groomsmen were standing, looking on at Rarity. And as she slowly walked down the aisle with her father now holding her close, it was like a dream come true for her.
But for Spike, he knew what was to come. She was walking towards him.
Spike felt a sharp pain in his chest as the music began to play. But he smiled. A lump grew in his throat when she reached the front, and they looked at each other. But he still smiled. A pit grew in his stomach as they said their vows, but his smile only grew wider.
And when they kissed, and everyone stood up and stomped their hooves, he closed his eyes and clapped as loudly as he could. She was truly happy with him, and that’s all he wanted for her.
But that’s not what she had needed from him.
The thought made everything around him slowly fade into the background. The only thing that stuck was the clapping. The clapping that made him remember that he failed.
The clapping that made him remember that he was so close.
The clapping that grew louder as he imagined them together.
The clapping that mocked Spike being near an altar that never existed.
The clapping that had Rarity looking at him lovingly.
The clapping that would never stop.
An echo that he could get lost in forever.
But she was happy, and that’s what mattered, right?
