Prom and Circumstance

Chapters

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 1
Chapter 8

Chapter 2

The criteria for judging an academic institution are many and varied, to the point of filling an entire book so massive a fourth of its pages could hold several doors open. For those with less time than the Equestria Education Association or simply can’t be bothered to peruse six hundred pages on proper kitchen and lavatory maintenance in addition to interviewing and confirming the qualifications of an entire staff of educators, a couple of pamphlets, a short musical number, and a cursory tour of the facilities might be enough to determine the right school.

And for those with even less time and energy, a quick peek into a school’s library can tell volumes. The size of library and its staff, for example, hints of the school’s budget and the importance the school places on literacy. The book collection will demonstrate what subjects take priority over others, with more valued subjects having more texts. And of course, the presence of students is indicative that the school is indeed an institution that genuinely fosters a desire for learning and not some expensive party venue disguised as one.

Headmare Twilight Sparkle personally saw to the design and creation of the Ponyville School of Friendship’s library, doing everything in her power to ensure that her students had access to the finest literary resources. From copies and translations of ancient tomes to more current research journals, poetry from Yakyakistan and recipe books from Griffonstone, journals by hippogriffs written during the Storm King’s reign, even a few records of the stories from the Feast of Fire, if there was even an ounce of academic value, there was a good possibility that Twilight had at least attempted to add it to the library.

As such, while the library of the School of Friendship may have been modest in size when compared to the royal archives in Canterlot, it was more than sufficient for the needs of the school’s students, whether they be research resources, some readings for pleasure, or just a quiet place to study.

Sandbar sat one of the desks set aside for studying, surrounded by open books. The pony let out a loud frustrated sigh, one of apparently many as the staff and other student didn’t even bother hushing him, shooting him dirty looks instead. So engrossed was he with his work that he failed to notice the griffon approach and take the seat beside him until Gallus tapped his shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, hey.” Sandbar stretched then turned to face the newcomer. “Hey, you know what you’re going to write your thesis on?”

“Thesis? Oh, right, that.” Gallus shook his head. “Nope. I’ll probably, I don’t know, write it on one of the professors’s adventures.”

“Seriously? Every creature’s going to do that.”

“So?” The griffon shrugged. “Doesn’t break any rules.”

“Yeah, but I want to do something exciting. I mean, come on, this is going to be our last school assignment, like, ever.”

“You’re starting to sound like Ocellus. It’s a research paper,” Gallus said with a raised brow. “How exciting can that get?”

“Here, just let me brainstorm. So I was thinking maybe something on the Idol of Boreas and how the downfall of Griffonstone was actually due to the lack of generosity.”

“Okay, how?”

“Don’t know. Just thought it’d be a cool subject,” Sandbar admitted with a shrug. “Or, or what about, if Star Swirl the Bearded was so bad at friendship, how did end up befriending Scorpan? There’s got to be something there.”

“Wait, who?”

“You know, Star Swirl the Bearded. Great and powerful unicorn conjurer, one of the Pillars of Old Equestria, part-time student here.”

“I meant Scorpan.”

“Tirek’s brother. He helped Star Swirl stop Tirek the first time around. There’s not a lot of info on him, but I’d figure I could interview Star Swirl the Bearded about him. That ought to get me extra points from Ms. Sparkle.”

“Isn’t Star Swirl on some kind of quest thing?”

“Oh. Right.” Sandbar’s face lit up before it even finished falling. “Okay, how about this one? Smolder’s is totally being groomed to be the next dragon lord, and it’s all part of Lord Ember’s plan.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to assume that was a joke and move on,” Gallus said with a roll of his eyes. “But, uh, speaking of Smolder, you’ve seen her recently?”

“No. Why? I can help you look for her.”

“No, no, that’s cool,” Gallus quickly assured, raising his open claws. “You, uh, you remember last Hearts and Hooves Day?” he asked, his voice lowered.

“Was that the one with that disastrous attempt to pair up so none of us would feel lonely.“

“That never happened, and if it ever had happened, which it didn’t, we would’ve agreed never to speak of it,” Gallus hissed through a closed beak. “And I meant the Hearts and Hooves Day the year after that one where nothing happened. You know, the pool?”

“Pool?” Sandbar tapped his chin. “A pool? Let’s see, wasn’t that the year we saw Spike running around town so we decided to follow him and watch him try and fail to ask Professor Rarity out? Pool, pool, no, I don’t, wait. Oh, betting pool!” The stallion groaned. “I still can’t believe you talked me into it.”

“Hey, we needed more than just me and Smolder, and who would’ve guessed Ocellus’d want in?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sandbar huffed. “So what about it? I’m still good for it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good to hear, but, ah.” Gallus quickly glanced around then motioned Sandbar closer. “So Spike just asked Professor Rarity out on a date.”

“Hold on, what!”

The collective hush from the rest of the library’s patrons nearly knocked the two over. Sandbar gave a small apologetic smile before lowering his voice. “You serious?”

Gallus nodded slowly. “Dead serious.”

“Is that what those tickets—“

“Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t stick around. Would you?”

“I, guess not,” Sandbar admitted. “So we both lost?”

“Well, see, I was thinking, and listen carefully, if Smolder never finds out, she can’t collect her winnings.”

“But isn’t that—“ Sandbar gasped. “Hey, that’s cheating!”

“It’s not cheating,” Gallus assured with a wave of his claw. “It’s just, an omission of information.“ His grin began to waver before Sandbar’s disapproving glare. “Alright, fine, it’s a bit dishonest.”

“And what does Professor Applejack say about dishonesty?”

“That it’s the quickest way to lose a friend’s trust,” Gallus recited dryly, his eyes slowly widening as he came to the realization that Sandbar hadn’t spoken. No, the voice of the questioner had been of a much higher pitch and had much more bubbly energy than Sandbar could ever muster. Perhaps more disturbing was the sudden cupcake that had appeared before griffon.

“Correct!” exclaimed the pink earth pony that had suddenly wrapped her forelegs around Gallus’s shoulders. “But you two really need to lower your voices,” she added in a whisper. “This is a library, you know.”

Sandbar recovered first. “Oh, hey Professor Pinkie Pie.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Pinkie Pie said with a hoof waggle. “We’re not in class so I’m not a professor. So.” She released Gallus and slid into the empty seat on the opposite end of the desk. “What are we talking about?”

Gallus rubbed his neck nervously. “It’s, um, kind of personal,” he said.

“Ooh, I’ll go get Starlight.”

“No, no, we, not like that, we don’t need the guidance counselor,” quickly assured Gallus, his usual cool and disinterested demeanor cracking.

“Aw, but Starlight loves personal problems. She has ton of them. Hm.” Pinkie Pie rested her chin on the table and let her head roll side to side. “Are you two worried about school work?”

“It’s not that,” Sandbar said. “I mean, I am having trouble deciding on a thesis topic, but—“

“Thesis? Pfft.” Pinkie waved dismissively. “I’m talking about your final exam. Wowzers, Twilight’s really making you work for that diploma. There’s stuff on there I don’t even remember teaching. I mean, seriously, when are any of you going to need to use old Ponish in the real world, am I right? But hey, if you fail, that just mean we get to spend another year together. Or does failing mean you have to start all over, like, back to year one?

“Well, I guess we’re a little worried about that now,” Gallus said as he shared a nervous look with Sandbar.

“But it’s not what you were worried about before, huh? Did Gallus forget his mother’s birthday and now has to come up with some elaborate and likely expensive scheme to show his appreciation and repair their strained relationship before it’s too late and she lives the rest of her days thinking she’s unwanted and unloved? Oh wait, that can’t be right. Gallus, you don’t have a mom.” Pinkie’s voice grew somber. “I am so sorry.”

The glance the two shared was now awkward. Gallus rubbed the front of his neck. “Right, yeah. It’s not that.”

“Did you forget Sandbar’s mom’s birthday? No, Sandbar’s dad’s birthday. No, wait, did you forget Sandbar’s birthday?” Pinkie Pie gasped. “How could you, Gallus? I thought you two were friends.”

“I was at his party, the party you threw for him.”

“Oh yeah. Then did you forget the mayor’s birthday? Lily’s birthday? Groundskeeper Wheelie’s? Scootaloo’s? Yona’s sister’s? Queen Nova’s? Shining Armor’s? The dragon formerly known as Dragon Lord Scorch’s? Braeburn’s? Chancellor Neighsay’s? Pumpkin and Pound Cake’s? Big McIntosh’s? Cranky Doodle’s? Mistmane’s? That one mailmare with the uneven eyes and affinity for muffins whose name I can’t remember for some reason? Spitfire’s? Rose’s? Angel Bunny’s? Grandpa Gruff’s? Maud’s?”

“Spike asked Rarity out on a date!”

Another wave of hushes and hisses rolled over the table, which did nothing to deter Pinkie Pie’s excited gasp.

“He didn’t! He did! Oh my gosh, this calls for a party! I have to tell every creature! Where’s Spike? Where’s Rarity? I have to congratulate them!”

The pink pony became a pink blur, knocking over the desk and sending books and papers flying. “Seriously?” Gallus said, frowning. “You couldn’t keep that a secret?”

Sandbar took the claw Gallus was offering and got to his feet. “Dude, it was that or spend the rest of the day listening to her list every single pony, griffon, dragon, hippogriff, yak, and changeling in existence. Help me clean up.”

“Smolder’s definitely going to find out now,” Gallus grumbled as he began to push the table back onto its legs.

“You don’t know that.”

“You heard Pinkie Pie. She’s going to tell every creature.”

“Okay, yeah.” Sandbar chewed on his bottom lip. “Maybe, maybe she forgot about the bet. Smolder doesn’t really have the best memory.”

“It has been a while, and she did actually forget your birthday that one time,” Gallus mused. With a final grunt, the table was upright, and he joined Sandbar on the floor to help with the scattered papers. “Maybe—“

“Maybe nothing.”

Gallus and Sandbar looked up, and their spirits sank at the sight of the orange dragon sitting across from them with her feet propped up on the table and the smuggest grin they’ve ever seen on her face.

“So, did you, ah, hear about, you know?” Sandbar began as Gallus sullenly took the seat beside him.

Smolder rolled her eyes. “I’ll be surprised if there’s any creature who doesn’t know by the end of the day. Pinkie Pie’s singing about it in the halls. I just came here to escape the musical.”

“I still, I just...” Gallus groaned then planted his face into the desk. “I can’t believe Spike actually did it. He actually asked Professor Rarity out.”

Smolder shrugged. “Eh, as weird as he is, Spike’s still a, well, he’s some kind of a dragon, and dragons always get what they want. Or, at least, they try to. I’m just glad he did it before we graduated, otherwise...”

“Yeah yeah, keep rubbing it in.” Gallus sighed and slumped down in his seat. “One more month. Just one more month and I would’ve won. He couldn’t have waited?”

“Hey, that’s life,” Smolder Said with another dismissive shrug. “Now, about my winnings, what did we agree on again?”

Gallus winced. “Alright, listen, I’m a little short on bits right now—“

“I also accept gems.”

“Yeah, short on those too.”

Smolder’s eyes narrowed. “Oh no, you’re not weaseling your way out of this one.” She turned to Sandbar. “What about you? Any excuses?”

A short moment passed as the earth pony thought to himself. “Are we forgetting some creature?” he asked. “You know, little bluish, red back, super transformation powers, pupil-less eyes that make it hard to tell what she’s staring at sometimes.”

“Oh yeah, Ocellus was part of the pool,” Gallus said, nodding. He turned to Smolder. “Why don’t you go bother her?”

“Because I like her more and know she’ll actually be good for it,” Smolder responded with a smirk.

“No, I mean, we don’t know how Professor Rarity responded. What if, you know, what if Ocellus was right?”

The dragon and the griffon stared at Sandbar in silence, the first blissful silence in the library in several long minutes before being broken by Gallus: “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I? I mean, I’m just saying, maybe she said yes.”

Smolder planted a claw over her face. “Look, I get it, ponies are naive, it’s part of your charm, but you’re taking it too far. Rarity, she’s, and Spike’s...” She looked to Gallus. “Help me out here.”

“Rarity’s,” the griffon began, motioning awkwardly with a claw as he tried to continue, saying, “um, Rarity while Spike’s, he’s Spike.”

Sandbar leaned his head to the side, staring at Gallus in confusion as Smolder buried her face deeper into her palm. “Okay? And that means?”

“Just, okay, look,” Gallus said, trying again. “Professor Rarity’s this, she’s this super pretty pony and a professional with high standards; I think only Headmare Twilight grades harder. And I heard she once turned down a prince, and I mean a literal member of Equestria’s royalty. Meanwhile you’ve got Spike who’s, honestly, kind of a dork.”

“Hey, he’s not that bad. I’ve always thought he was pretty cool,” Sandbar argued.

“He has his moments, and for a teacher he’s pretty chill, but cool?” Gallus clicked his tongue against his beak and rotated his claw side to side. “I was there when he asked her out, and I don’t think I’ve seen any creature screw up harder, and we’ve seen Yona try to polka. Plus he’s, well, eh. Smolder, on a scale from one to ten, how do you think he looks?”

“I don’t know,” Smolder said with a shrug, “five or six? Give him a hundred years, and he might become a seven. And that’s in dragon terms, so that’s probably, I don’t know, a two by pony standard.”

“And there’s that too,” Gallus added. “He’s a dragon, she’s a pony. You don’t exactly see many couples like that around.“

Sandbar threw his forelegs up into the air. “Alright, I get it, Spike doesn’t have much of a chance. I’m just saying, we should make sure before declaring any winners. Ocellus is just going to say the same thing once she finds out anyways.”

“Fine, how are we going to find out?” Smolder asked. “Just walk up to him and ask?”

“Well, Gallus was there when Spike asked her out. I don’t think it’d be too weird if he asked how it went.”

“Oh, no. I am not doing that,” Gallus declared. “What if he starts crying? You know I can’t deal with crying. Besides, he helps with the grading, and I’m going to need to be on his good side if the final is as tough as Pinkie Pie says it is.”

“Oh, crying!” Smolder suddenly exclaimed. “That’s it. We don’t have to ask any creature, we just have to see how Spike is doing. If Rarity rejected him, Spike’d probably off somewhere moping or drowning himself in ice cream.”

Sandbar’s eyes grew wide with realization. “But if Professor Rarity said yes, he’d be, like, ecstatic.”

“So all we have to do is find him and see how he’s acting,” Gallus jumped out of his seat. “Alright, we’d better get going.”

“Wait, now?”

“Makes sense,” Smolder agreed. “We don’t want Spike to get over that heartbreak before we confirm it. Yeah sure, that’ll probably be a while, but the sooner the better.”

“But...” Sandbar turned to the stack of books he had just reorganized.

“Homework can wait,” Gallus said. “That thesis isn’t due until the end of month. You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sandbar got up as well. “Some creature has to make sure you two don’t get into trouble.”

The remaining patrons release a relieved sigh as the three exited the library, and silence reigned once more in its proper place. Now in the lively school hallway, their conversation was just one of many as various groups of friends walked past each other, sharing news and gossip among themselves with every step.

“So, where do we start?” Sandbar asked as they made their way through the crowd. “Gallus, you saw Spike last at Professor Rarity’s classroom, right?”

“Yeah, but that was a while ago,” Gallus said. “He wouldn’t stick around after getting rejected, and even if he wasn’t, I don’t think he’d still be there.”

“We could trying looking for Professor Rarity,” Smolder suggested. Of the three, she had the least trouble navigating the crowded hallway, thanks to her bipedalism and admittedly intimidating bearing. “She would’ve been the last one to see him, though we could probably figure out how things turned out for Spike based on how she’s acting.”

“Either one works,” Gallus noted. He came to a stop and cupped a claw around his eyes, squinting. “I think I see Professor Rainbow Dash over there. Yep, that’s her mane alright. Come on, she might know where one of them is.”

Those eagle eyes of his had seen correctly. There at the very end of the hall stood the blue pegasus, leaning against the doorway to some sort of break room with a half-empty mug in her hooves. Her distinct mane, in all of its many vibrant colors, was messy as usual, with multiple points sticking out in different directions, but there was a noticeable slickness that suggested a recent demonstration of her capabilities as a Wonderbolt.

The student she had been talking to, a pegasus a year or two below them, left as they approach with a dissatisfied appearance. Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes before noticing Gallus, Sandbar, and Smolder and giving them a wave. The wave grew wary as she realized that she was their destination. “Don’t tell me,” she said, frowning, “you want a chance to join next year’s buckball team even though tryouts ended a week ago.”

“We’re graduating, remember?” Smolder answered with equal disinterest.

“Oh, right.” Rainbow tapped herself lightly on the forehead. “Sorry, I’ve just spent the hour dealing with students giving me excuses, begging for another time, even bribes. Seriously, we’ve had tryouts for two whole weeks, and I made sure they were advertised all over the school.” She gestured to the posters wallpapering the hallway’s walls.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be setting up the team for next year?” Gallus asked. “When is buckball season anyways?”

“Buckball season is every season, and if the School of Friendship wants to stay competitive, we’ve got to start training now,” Rainbow asserted with a smirk. “So, what do you three need?” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “If it’s about the thesis, ask Twilight or someone else, I’ve got nothing on that.”

“We’re looking of Spike or Professor Rarity,” Sandbar explained. “Have you seen either of them?”

“Both, actually, with Pinkie Pie,” Rainbow Dash answered. “Sounded like they were planning something. Pinkie was all excited, then Rarity whispered something, Pinkie looked sad, became happy again and bounced off to who knows where.”

“You know where they are know?” asked Gallus.

“Told you, she bounced off to who knows where.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Don’t worry, Pinkie’ll find you first.”

“Not Pinkie Pie.” Gallus said, shaking his head hurriedly. “I meant Spike, or Rarity.”

“Spike I roped into cleaning up the equipment we were using on the track, but he’s probably done by now so who knows. No idea about Rarity. No, wait, she had a lot of scrap cloth and stuff with her so she might’ve gone home to organize. Why, what’s up?” Rainbow frowned at the disappointed faces of the three before her, so apparent even she noticed.

“It’s, it’s nothing important,” Gallus said, his discouraged tone betraying him.

“Wait, you said you saw Spike and Rarity, right?” Smolder interjected with a raised claw.

“Yeah.”

“Together?”

Rainbow Dash leaned back. Fire had returned to Smolder’s eyes “Again, yeah.”

“Do you remember how Spike was acting?” Smolder asked.

The dragon’s wings were stiff and spread to the fullness of their length, a indication of excitement for just about all winged creatures, Rainbow Dash observed. “How Spike was acting? Normal, I guess. He had a goofy looking grin that he always has when he’s around Rarity.”

Now Sandbar spoke up: “So he was happy?”

“Yeah, that’s what smiling usually means.”

“What about Rarity?” Gallus asked. “How was she acting?”

“Acting like Rarity, I guess.”

“Like normal? She wasn’t acting weird?”

Rainbow Dash stared at Gallus for a good long second. “Should she have been?” She closed her eyes and tapped her chin. “Let’s see. Nothing out of the ordinary. Hold on, no, she looked a little, worried I think, no, embarrassed when she and Pinkie Pie were talking. I’m not sure, maybe Pinkie would know more.”

Gallus groaned. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did she rejected him or not?”

“Reject? Reject who?

Smolder shook her head, but there was a lack of confidence in the motion. “She had to, there’s, I mean, there’s no way she’d—“

“Spike seemed happy,” noted Sandbar. “That probably means she said yes.”

“Yeah, but that, Rainbow said he always has that smile around Rarity.”

“You really think he’d still be wearing it after being rejected?” Gallus said. He folded his forelegs across his front. “Can’t believe it, but really does look she said—“

Rainbow Dash’s stomp, while not enough to crack the stone tile floor, echoed through the hallway. “Hey! You three are getting detention if I don’t start hearing explanations,” she exclaimed. “Who’s getting rejected, and why did she say yes? And yes, I can do that. I’m a teacher!”

There was silence, then a jumbled mess of words as the three competed to be the first to break the news.

“Alright, stop,” Rainbow Dash ordered, pulling at her ears. “All I heard was Rarity and Spike a bunch of times. Okay, you go first,” she said, pointing to Smolder before turning to Sandbar. “Then you. Then you,” she finished with her hoof directed at Gallus. “Alright, go.”

“Spike asked Rarity out.”

Rainbow Dash blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Spike asked Rarity out,” Smolder repeated.

“On what? Like a date?”

Smolder turned to Sandbar and Gallus. They nodded to her, and she nodded to Rainbow.

“He had these fancy tickets to some show,” Gallus added.

“No joke? This isn’t some sort of prank, is it?”

The three shook their heads no. “I mean, if it is, we’re not part of it,” said Sandbar.

“Wow, okay, that’s...” Rainbow cleared her throat, using the time to try to regain composure. “Well what did she say?”

“We’re trying to figure that out,” Gallus explained.

Sandbar nodded in agreement. “We thought we could tell based on how Spike was acting. Sounds like she said yes.”

“Does anyone else know yet? Wait, does Pinkie Pie know? Is that what she and Rarity were whispering about? Where’s Pinkie? I’ve got to find her!”

With that, Rainbow Dash took to the air and vanished, leaving behind a whirlwind of papers and a storm of complaining students and ruined hairstyles. Slowly, Gallus, Sandbar, and Smolder got back onto their feet.

“So, still want to confirm it?” Sandbar asked.

“Nah.” Gallus sighed. “It’s pretty clear. I mean, you can go ahead and congratulate Spike if you want, but I’m done for today.”

“So, that’s that then,” Sandbar said. “Looks like Ocellus won.”

The griffon nodded. “Yep. Didn’t see that coming.”

The three continued their way through the hall with no destination in mind. After that exciting development, no creature had any desire to return to the library and resume the mundane school work. For a while, they simply wandered around the school aimlessly. Eventually, Smolder broke the silence:

“Okay, see, I’ve been thinking, and listen carefully, if Ocellus never finds out...”

Chapter 3

Ponyville, home to the School of Friendship, was no stranger to danger and torment, and that’s even if one were to disregard the ever present Everfree Forest standing at the outskirts. The town served as the stage for Nightmare Moon’s return, had been Equestria’s capital of chaos for a thankfully short amount of time, was where the battle between Princess Twilight Sparkle and the dreaded Tirek took place, and was the headquarters of the Cutie Mark Crusaders and the site of most of their activities.

If one were to ask an inhabitant of Ponyville to rank those listed based on the degree of suffering experienced, most would’ve have placed the Cutie Mark Crusaders at the very top immediately while the others would’ve done the same after a moment of deliberation. Sure, maybe that trio of fillies hadn’t tried inflicting eternal night, at least not deliberately, or removed the entire concept of gravity except for that one time and had only come close to destroying the late Golden Oak Library twice, but while the rampages of Nightmare Moon, Discord, and Tirek had all come to a swift and definitive end, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were a constant to Ponyville, as permanent as the town’s name.

Thankfully, as Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle grew older and their responsibilities expanded to encompass friendship tutoring and Cutie Mark consulting and counseling (something Starlight Glimmer refused to do for whatever reason, despite her title of guidance counselor), the quantity and insanity of Cutie Mark Crusader activities dropped significantly, reducing the workload of Ponyville’s fire prevention and management department nearly in half.

It should be noted, however, that while ponies of Ponyville are a rather forgiving lot, they are not always an entirely forgetful bunch, and the scars left by the Crusaders, while faded, still remained in various ways. For instance, the sale of skateboards remained banned in case a certain orange pegasus got any ideas or, Heaven forbid, grow bored of her scooter, and the age limit for the sale of fire powder seemed to increase by one year every year right before Sweetie Belle’s birthday.

And of course, the student-published newspapers from both the Ponyville schoolhouse and the School of Friendship were carefully reviewed by teachers to avert the return of Gabby Gums who had become an urban legend of sorts after all these years. Tales of her reign of terror and misinformation were whispered around campfires by aspiring journalists, and the ponies who had suffered under her still shudder at the mention of her name or of gray mane dye or tail extensions.

The lack of a proper gossip rag in Ponyville, however, meant that rumors and secrets travelled the old fashion way, from pony to pony, creature to creature, mouth to ear. Applejack, who thrived more on apples and hard work than idle talk, found that to be more of a boon than a bane. Despite spending much of her waking hours in the dirt like most farmers and being one of the most down-to-earth saviors of Equestria, Applejack was never really one to keep her ear to the ground. If there was news important enough to garner her attention, she figured it’d get to her in a timely manner on its own, usually through a friend or a family member, and she was usually right.

This instance was a little different, however, in that it was through her students that she found out about a certain development and not from her friends and family. Also unconventionally, this piece of gossip was not provided entirely willingly as Applejack was only able to learn of it after two excruciating minutes of interrogation. So surprised was she by the news that Applejack had been unable to continue her lecture on the evils of gambling without proper regulations and simply let Ocellus, Smolder, Sandbar, and Gallus leave with the large sack of gold bits and precious gemstones that had drawn her suspicion in the first place.

The shock soon passed, and Applejack quickly sprung into action. First, the rumor had to be either confirmed or disproven. If what Applejack had heard was nothing more than baseless gossip, she had to squash it before it spread any further. Delay too long and the lies would become indistinguishable from the truth, and who knew the extent of damage Rarity and Spike’s reputations would suffer because of it.

As for if what she heard was true, well, Applejack wasn’t too sure where to go from there. Were congratulations in order? Why had it been such a secret? How long had it been hidden, and why was she only learning about it now?

Applejack managed to set such thoughts aside as she tried to focus on containing damage, only for them to return in full force after Rainbow Dash, whom she had been recruiting for assistance, confirmed rather bluntly that yes, Spike had indeed asked Rarity out on a date and Rarity had responded with yes. Talks with a nearby Pinkie Pie had resulted in the same conclusions, though the pink pony had been surprisingly uncooperative, which Rainbow Dash explained away by mentioning that Rarity had asked the two of them to keep quiet.

That had been days ago, and while Applejack managed to herself distracted with her duties on the her family farm and the school and with constant reminders that this was really none of her business and that Rarity must have her reasons, her mind continued to wander back to the sudden development in Rarity and Spike’s relationship as she lain in bed waiting for sleep to overtake her. Were congratulations in order? Why had it been such a secret, and why was Rarity trying to keep it as such? Who else knew? Such questions plagued her during that most vulnerable state between sleep and consciousness, along with additional more shamefully nosy ones sprouting from a curiosity that belonged to a much younger, less honest Applejack.

And so she found herself now in the teacher’s lounge with a fifth cup of coffee after a restless night. That blasted curiosity was growing less manageable by the day, and all she had to do to satisfy it was ask those questions to the right mare and or dragon, her own personal business be damned. Applejack could even hear a little caricature of her own voice justifying the nosiness as a crusade for truth rather than some invasion of privacy. She released a weary sigh and let her head fall to the table with an audible thud.

“Heavens, Applejack.”

Applejack felt her color drain. She turned over, and her eyes confirmed what her ears suggested. A certain white unicorn had stepped into the room, wearing a full set of boots and a look of concern.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you look like you could use a day off or at the very least an hour at the spa,” Rarity said as she approached. She picked up the wide-brimmed hat sitting on the floor and dusted it off before placing it back onto the farmer’s head. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

Applejack shook her head. “Naw, nothing like that. Just had some trouble sleeping, s’all.” She stared down at Rarity’s boots and to her utter surprise saw no laces, frills, or sparkles. And then the color, a simple, subdued, though not entirely unappealing, shade of brown with black bottoms that suggested reinforced soles. If they weren’t so obviously new, Applejack might have mistaken them for her own, and they certainly weren’t anything she’d expect from Rarity’s wardrobe. She gestured down at them. “New boots?”

Rarity followed Applejack’s motion. “Oh, these? You don’t remember? You and Rainbow Dash were the ones who pick them out for me from the sports store.”

“Right, for that hiking trip with our sister. You planning to do some hiking soon?”

“A little, yes,” Rarity answered. “Maud recently discovered a small cavern full of gems a little ways away that I simply must explore. However, there’s a large colony of bats that have made the cavern their home, and, well, I don’t want to risk stepping in anything unpleasant with my bare hooves so...” She raised her foreleg and shook the boot. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn anything of this nature, so I’d like to get used to moving around in these before Spike and I leave after classes end for the day.”

“That’s, mighty practical of you.”

“Thank you.”

“You, uh, you said you’re going with Spike?”

“But of course,” Rarity said. “How could I not share such a location with my favorite fellow gem seeker?”

“It’s just, ah, well.” Applejack swallowed. “Is that the, you know, date?”

Rarity blinked. “I’m sorry, the date? Well, I suppose one could call it a date. Why do you ask?”

“No, I mean.” Applejack took a deep breath. “I heard from Rainbow Dash that you and Spike were, you know.” She tapped her hooves together. “Dating. Together.”

“Oh.”

Reluctantly, Applejack looked forward to meet Rarity’s gaze. The unicorn now wore an expression of annoyance, with a small frown and a slight furrow of her brow. “What else did Rainbow tell you?” Rarity asked.

“Not much, just that the two of you were dating and that you wanted to keep it a secret,” Applejack answered. “Is it, you know, true?”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t say we’re ‘dating,’” Rarity began, clapping her hooves against each other awkwardly. “That is to say, ‘dating’ in its current tense implies an ongoing situation that is in its continuation, and this is a more, recent development.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“We, that is Spike and I, are not currently dating, but we do have one planned out for the near future,” Rarity explained. “And potentially more following.”

“So you two aren’t dating now, but you’re going to date later?”

“I, yes, I suppose that is correct.”

“And this gem hunt?” Applejack asked.

“Just another simple outing between good friends.”

Applejack took a moment to think. “Okay, but what’s different about the later date? You know, the one you and Spike have planned.”

Rarity frowned. “As much as I enjoy our conversations, I can’t say I appreciate your sudden intrusiveness. You’re not the type of pony to pry into another’s personal matters without justification, so I’m sure you will provide good reason for these questions.”

Applejack sighed. “No, not this time,” she admitted with her head bowed. “Not really. Just, you and Spike, we’ve all been friends for a while now, and when I first heard about, you know, this, I wasn’t sure how to feel. I mean, you had to have known about Spike’s crush on you, right?”

“I, may have had my suspicions,” Rarity said. She rubbed the front of her neck as she turned away.

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly subtle about it. So yeah, hearing about how you two were getting together, I mean, I was happy for Spike, but I wasn’t sure how you felt. You, you know, you’ve never really addressed his feelings until now, and then I hear you’re trying to keep it all under wraps?” Applejack shook her head. “Sorry, and I know it ain’t any of my business, but something just feels, well, it feels off, like that same feeling I got when we first met those conniving Flim Flam brothers. I just, I just want, I don’t want you or Spike getting hurt over this so I just want to make sure you’re sure about this.”

The two mares stared at each other in silence for a good long moment. Rarity sighed and closed her eyes as Applejack lowered her gaze. “I’m, well, I’m trying to appreciate the concern, and I believe I can understand your position, though it really isn’t any of your business.”

“I know, I know.”

“Let me finish,” Rarity interjected. “As I said, while I do not enjoy being treated like a filly by her father on the night of her first ball, I am glad I have a friend looking out for my well-being so determinedly, and I’m certain Spike would say so too.” She gave Applejack a small smile, which Applejack soon returned. “Now, how should I explain this? Where do I begin?” she continued, biting her bottom lip. “I’ve, I’ve always been fond of Spike. As a child, he was this adorable little dragon that just wanted to be useful, always trying to help, even if his abilities weren’t always on par with his ambitions.”

“Yeah.” Applejack chuckled softly, remembering the attempts the dragon had made to fulfill a life-debt to her, once a wince-worthy incident now just another memory to laugh back at.

“He was kind, always willing to listen to me rant over every little thing, strong, and generous with his time and never asking much in return, always trying to be helpful. I’ve said that already, haven’t I?”

“Yep. Where’re you going with this?”

“What I’m trying to say is, I’ve always been fond of Spike, perhaps more than what was proper, with him being so young. Yes, I was aware of his crush for me, and while I tried not to entertain such feelings, I couldn’t bring myself to address them directly because I would have had to refuse them. A part of me hoped he’d move on, that this little crush of his would subside once he grew up.” Rarity drew in a long deep breath and sighed. “He is older now, and when he asked for a chance to prove himself as more than a friend, I felt he more than deserved it. So I accepted, and for that night at the very least, we will be more than friends.”

Rarity became silent, giving Applejack a moment to consider her answer. After a time, the unicorn cleared her throat and walked toward the cupboard. “Goodness, I had nearly forgotten why I came here in the first place.” She glanced at the clock ticking away on the countertop and frowned. “Well, I suppose there’s enough time for one quick cup.” She placed a small mug down, reached into the cabinets to remove a small box, and transferred a meshed bag of herbs and leaves tied together by a string from the small box and into the mug. “Is there still hot water in there?”

“Huh?” Applejack looked to the kettle next to the coffee maker and pile of used filters Rarity had pointed at. “Oh, sorry. No, but you know boiling water doesn’t take that long, and we have an hour before classes start.”

“Yes, but we only have minutes before that staff meeting begins.”

“Meeting?” Applejack took a moment to review her mental schedule. “Oh, right, the weekly morning meeting.” She also looked at the clock. “Yeah, we should probably get going,” she said before holding out her own cup toward Rarity. “Here. It ain’t tea, but it’s still warm, kinda.”

Rarity stared at the murky, lukewarm liquid sloshing around in Applejack’s cup. She gently pushed the offered cup back, giving Applejack a weak smile, flashing those perfectly clean teeth, as white as her coat, she hoped to avoid getting stained. “That’s quite alright. I suppose I can wait until after the meeting is over.”

Rarity started making her way to the lounge’s exit. With a quick swing, Applejack finished her coffee and followed Rarity. The halls were mostly empty, save for a few students making their way to the cafeteria for an early breakfast, so the two mares continued to the headmare’s office alone with themselves and their thoughts. “So,” Applejack began, breaking the silence, “what about after that night?”

“Hmm? I’m sorry, that night in reference to?”

“The date as more than friends,” Applejack specified. She quickly glanced around to make certain that there were no others in earshot. “What happens between the two of y’all after that? You just go on back to friends or something?”

“Well, hopefully, if everything goes well and we’re both still receptive of the idea, we continue on as, well as girlfriend and boyfriend. Goodness me, it’s rather warm for the time of year,” Rarity said as she fanned herself in an attempt to banish the blush creeping across her cheeks. “Ahem, in any case, one can never be too certain in regards to lo—, to certain relationships, and this will be a new experience for all of us after all.”

“Huh. I figured you’ve been on tons of dates before.”

“Not as many as you’d imagine,” Rarity said with a annoyed huff. “And certainly not with someone I’m already so familiar with. Or with a dragon, or with someone that much younger.“

“And the secrecy?” Applejack asked. “I mean, I get wanting a bit of privacy for your love life, but keeping it from your friends seems a little much. I think. Is that normal, keeping that sort of thing secret from friends? I mean, Big McIntosh talks to us and his friends about Sugar Belle all the time, but he’s a stallion.”

“It’s a little, well, let me try to explain. You know how ponies are with gossip. If word got that we were together, with the difference in species and the...” Rarity grimaced. “...age gap, things might get a little more complicated than we can handle. A relationship can be a delicate thing, especially at the beginning, and the last thing we’d need is public pressure and scrutiny. There’s a reason why celebrity romances rarely work out. And if, heavens forbid, things didn’t work out between us, the constant public reminders would’ve made it much more difficult to move on. As for our close friends, please understand, I was planning to let all of you know but after the first date. Imagine how awkward it would’ve been for all of us to announce this potential relationship only to reveal that it wasn’t to be after the very first night as a couple?”

Applejack rubbed the back of her head. “I guess that’s be pretty embarrassing. So who else knows?”

“As far as I’m aware, just you, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie,” Rarity answered. “I’m not too sure how Rainbow or Pinkie Pie found out in the first place though. Well, Pinkie has her ways, of course, and Rainbow may have just overheard. I hope those two haven’t told anyone else besides you.”

“Oh, they didn’t actually tell me. Rainbow Dash was the one who explained it, but I first heard about the date from some students.”

Rarity froze in mid-step. “Students? How could have—“ She groaned. “How could I’ve forgotten? Gallus was present when Spike asked me. This is going to be much harder to keep quiet than I had anticipated.” The door to Twilight Sparkle’s office came in sight. “You don’t suppose Twilight’s already heard, do you?”

“Dunno. Why?”

“It’s just, Twilight’s a dear and a wonderful, well-adjusted friend, but she, like all ponies, has her odd tendencies, like being a bit of a stickler when it comes to books and, ah, rules. Well, I’m afraid to admit I may have missed any mention of inter-workplace romance in that book of hers on schools of friendship. Especially any disapprovals of such,” Rarity added in a hushed tone.

“You think Twilight wouldn’t let you and Spike date? That’s just silly,” assured Applejack. “You know she’d be happy for the both of y’all.”

“Was it silly when Rainbow Dash traded Fluttershy away for a book at the Rainbow Falls Traders Exchange?” The unicorn didn’t bother to wait for a response as the headmare’s office grew closer and closer. “Yes, it most certainly was, yet Twilight allowed it because they agreed that it was a fair trade, and because those are the rules of the Exchange.”

“Yeah, but why would Twilight even include anything to do with romance in her book? It’s a school of friendship.”

“To avoid scandals? When she first wrote that book, we were already in dire straits without any EEA accreditation. I wouldn’t put it past Twilight to include measures of preventing scandalous affairs that could’ve further damaged the school’s reputation from ever happening.” Only a few steps stood between them and the meeting place. “Twilight would’ve forbid student-teacher relations, I’m certain she would have. It’d only be natural that she’d ban relations between staff members too, right? I mean, is Spike even officially part of the staff? Yes, he’s Twilight’s assistant, and the students call him ‘Professor,’ but he’s always been her assistant, and I think that’s more of the students indulging Spike than any actual title.”

The door swung open and interrupted the growing insanity spewing from Rarity’s lips before Applejack could. A rainbow mane peaked out, followed by the rest of Rainbow Dash’s head, complete with an impatient look as she noticed the two mares in front of her.

“There you two are,” she said, clearly exasperated. “I was just about to go looking for you. Come on, we’re about to start.”

“Actually, I just realized I, I have a, a...” So flustered was she with her thoughts of purple alicorn princesses and fascist rule books that Rarity’s tongue tied itself in knots as she tried to come up with an excuse. “There’s a thing, you know, for the, Applejack,” she hissed, “help me.”

With a roll of her eyes, Applejack pushed the babbling fashionista forward, ignoring the glare Rarity shot at her as Rainbow Dash dragged her inside. Applejack followed, and the door shut behind her.

Chapter 4

Twilight Sparkle, alumni of Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns under Her Majesty‘s own tutelage, three-time savior of Equestria, bare minimum, bearer of the Element of Magic, Princess of Friendship, and Headmare of the School of Friendship, would describe herself as a perfectly simple mare. Never one for frills or pomp and ceremony, she found herself happier in the countrysides of Ponyville than she ever did in the bustling streets and dignified gatherings of her hometown Canterlot. Her preferred means of traveling over long distances were the steamed locomotives rather than golden chariots drawn by legions of armored guards. Of all of the outfits gifted to her, from bridesmaid dresses and gala gowns to the piece she wore for her coronation, her favorite remained the simplest ensemble Rarity had provided (which was her utter most absolute intention, thank you very much) for her birthday, just a standard yellow dress with a pink ribbon as its sole decoration. Her favorite meals were those that could forgo the use of silverware, like sandwiches or tortilla chips doused in melted cheese that left evidence of their presence on her lips and cheeks whenever napkins were unavailable.

What wasn’t simple were her various interests and hobbies that could be summed up vaguely as knowledge gathering, which her office reflected. Shelves adorned every wall, carrying books of every major subject and every other minor subject. A large coffee table held a collection of beakers and flasks and other glassware, each labeled with its name and purpose. Maps of Equestria and its surround kingdoms hung on what empty space was present, and artifacts and baubles from days long gone, some undeniably priceless and others arguably worthless, occupied the shelves where books did not. At the window stood a large, gold-plated telescope with an astronomy guide beside it, and on her desk were several scrolls, some marked with seals that screamed of importance, and various inkwells and quills of differing qualities, from those carefully crafted from pinion feathers of a phoenix to some generously donated during times of emergency by her owl Owlicious.

And then there was the current ring of chairs and those sitting of said chairs that made Twilight Sparkle’s circle of closest confidants and the School of Friendship’s staff of teachers, consisting of a soft-spoken retired model and friend to a somewhat reformed, nigh omnipotent spirit of chaos, a precognitive rock farmer turned fanatic party planner whose antics consistently broke the conventions of currently understood physics and nearly started two wars, a former despot with magical abilities and talents that included, but weren’t limited to, stealing the destinies of others and completely unraveling fate’s design, the only dragon in known existence to have been hatched by pony means and could claim partial responsibility to three interspecies alliances, and a overly confident speedster with a uniquely colored mane even for Equestria along with a penchant for breaking both Wonderbolt records and sound barriers with equal ease currently returning to her seat. A descendant of Ponyville’s founders and owner of nearly every blue ribbon that could be awarded at a rodeo and a fashion-forward designer of dresses, suits, and dragon-stumping disguises with three thriving store locations who was currently panicking internally over the fate of her romantic endeavors with the previously mentioned dragon took their places in the circle, Applejack taking a seat between the speedster with the rainbow mane and the party planner and Rarity sitting besides the former model and the ex-despot. Spike, Rarity noted, sat almost directly across from her, with a feather pen in one claw and a piece of parchment in the other. Catching the unicorn’s eye, Spike smiled and gave her a little wave before turning back to Twilight for instructions.

The headmare nodded and turned to those around her. “Now that everypony’s here, we can begin this weeks staff meeting. Spike, please record the current date and time and mark all as present. First item on the agenda is...”

Rarity tried to peek past the parchment. From what she could see, Spike’s features revealed nothing, no worries or concerns or any other emotion he’d likely harbor had his guardian and occupational superior had told him that the current circumstances would prevent him from acting on his feelings toward a certain fashionista. And Twilight would have most certainly had sat Spike down and explain such already if his and Rarity’s potential relationship broke any regulations, wouldn’t she?

“Next item, I know we’ve received several complaints about the Buckball team tryouts. Rainbow, Applejack, have those been cleared up?”

“Yeah, they’ve been dealt with. Don’t worry about it. Right, Applejack?”

But that would be under the assumption that Twilight would have known about Spike and her in the first place. Twilight wasn’t exactly the most attentive when it came to circulating rumors, but there was always an open ear to her students. Who else had Gallus told, and would any of them have told Twilight? Would Spike have told her? He was with Rarity when she asked Pinkie Pie to delay that congratulatory party she had planned and to keep everything under wraps so he knew there was a need for secrecy.

“So, Twilight, about that cider making club.”

“Well, I’ve done some research, and there’s nothing that says you can’t start one. You’ve got enough interested members, and I like the mission statement.”

“Thanks. Apple Bloom and Rainbow Dash came up with it.”

“Just as long as you know that all club event proceeds have to go back to the club. You can sell the cider they make, but you can’t use the bits for the farm. And their cider has to be sold separate from the cider your family makes.”

Had Spike understood? He had been a tad distracted from the experience, his elation could have clouded his judgment. But had that been the case, wouldn’t he have told everyone and anyone? At the very least, he’d have told the ponies currently present, and Applejack was evidence that he hadn’t. Perhaps Rarity should have pulled him to the side and explained her own thoughts and feelings on the situation to him like she had with Applejack.

“Oh, on a related note, Fluttershy, has Discord mentioned when he wants to schedule Chaos Day this year?”

Spike had just smiled at her, that had to have been a good sign, right? He wouldn’t have smiled if the next step in their relationship was in jeopardy. Or had that smile just been for her benefit, to put her at ease before the bad news? Had her anxiety been visible despite her efforts? Dozens of scenarios and possible explanations, each one less reasonable than the previous, ran through Rarity’s mind as she reviewed what few clues she had. Spike‘s eyes were back on her now. Much of his face was still blocked by that parchment, but it was clear that he was staring at her. Was he trying to tell her something? The staring continued, that had to be a sign, but a sign for what?

And why had the office gone silent?

Rarity tore her eyes off Spike and gave the room a quick glance before coming to the swift realization that Spike wasn’t the only one staring at her. Six additional sets of eyes were upon her, waiting with varying degrees of patience. Embarrassment was slowly replacing her anxiety. She cleared her throat.

“My apologies, my head was elsewhere. What were we discussing just now?”

“Just making sure everypony’s on board with extending office hours as we approach the end of the semester,” Twilight explained. “I know we’ve all got a lot of other responsibilities, but with both the final exam coming up and final papers being due, I’m sure our students would appreciate any additional help from us.”

“Oh, and let Sweetie Belle know too,” Starlight Glimmer added from Rarity’s side. “Sounds like we’ll be needing our best tutors on call.”

Twilight nodded. “Good idea. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, could you do the same with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo?”

“Yeah, if you think we need them,” Rainbow Dash answered. She looked to Applejack who nodded in agreement.

“Honestly, it’d be good for Apple Bloom. Can’t quite believe it myself, but the farm ain’t enough to keep her busy for too long.”

Again, everyone turned to Rarity. She nodded as well. “Of course. I’ll be sure to let Sweetie Belle know, and I’m certain I can spare a few hours.”

“Okay, good to hear. Then we can continue to a in-depth review of the lunch menu rotation for the week and analysis of the monthly cafeteria budget. Spike, if you could?”

On Twilight’s cue, Spike removed himself from his seat and made his way behind the large desk just outside of the ring of chairs. He returned with a stand and several rolled up posters. Before long, a massive collage of charts and graphs stood between the dragon and the alicorn, positioned so that all could see. Twilight began to speak, and for a short while, Rarity tried to follow the stream of numbers, technical terms, and a brief summary of Equestria’s federal agriculture department’s stance on the categorization of tomatoes as fruits but only when served unprepared. Soon, however, Rarity’s thoughts returned to the fate of Spike and her relationship, and she would have once again spiraled into a vortex of possibilities, probable and imagined, if it weren’t for a soft jab in her side.

Rarity turned just in time to watch Starlight Glimmer’s foreleg retreat. The reformed dictator and Cutie Mark thief raised an eye brow and gave her fellow unicorn a knowing smirk. “Geez, and I thought Spike was distracted by this development,” she whispered.

“D-Development?” Rarity swallowed and tried to smile back. “I, I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she said, just as quietly.

“Oh, so the two of you aren’t dating?”

“Why does everypony keep using that tense? We haven’t started ye—“ Ever the lady, Rarity swore only in safe confines of her head. The temptation to use coarser language out loud grew at the sight of Starlight growing smugger. “Who told you?”

“No one. Well, not really. See, turns out I’m not just the guidance counselor for students, and recently Spike’s been coming to me with these romantic hypotheticals. You know, bouncing ideas off me for dates and gifts, practicing date proposals, going over proper date etiquette, school rules on workplace relations, that sort of stuff,” Starlight said with a wave. She quickly glanced back at Twilight and the presentation. Twilight had produced a baton and had been pointing at specific points on a scatter line graph. “Anyways, it wasn’t hard putting two and two together, and I figured he finally asked you out by how he was acting a few days ago. He was so distracted, with the stupidest happy look on his face, I think Twilight buried him in dusty books twice without him even noticing.”

“So he didn’t tell you?”

“Nope. I asked him, and the look on his face confirmed everything, but he wouldn’t actually tell me what had happened. Just kept trying to change the subject.” Starlight’s smile wavered. “It’s kind of weird.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You’d think after dreaming about this moment for so long, yeah apparently he’s dreamt about it, Spike’d be telling everyone and everything, but I don’t think he’s even told Twilight.”

Rarity blinked. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, like I said, weird. And since he wasn’t giving me anything, I thought I’d ask you. So, what’s going on?”

“Now?” Rarity gestured around the room. “In the middle of a meeting?”

“Yes, Rarity? Do you have a question?”

“Oh, oh no,” Rarity quickly assured with a nervous titter. “I was just, stretching. Please continue, Twilight.”

The two waited for Twilight to finish her current point and begin a second before continuing. “It’s complicated,” Rarity whispered. “I’ll tell you later.“

“I’m holding you to it,” Starlight said, though it was apparent she wasn’t entirely satisfied. “But the two of you are dating, right?”

“Later,” Rarity hissed before sighing. Well, at least she learned of the headmare’s ignorance, that was one mystery put to rest, but the crux of the issue remained. Would the School of Friendship allow a romantic relationship between colleagues? Finding no answers within herself, Rarity turned to Starlight, hoping that despite the astronomical odds, the answer could be found written on the unicorn’s face. The answer was obviously absent, but as Rarity considered the unicorn and her words, realization slowly dawned. “Starlight?” she whispered, leaning as close as she could without appearing conspicuous.

“Hmm?”

“You said Spike came to you with questions, correct?”

“Yep.”

“I believe you mentioned something about workplace place relations,” Rarity began. “What did you tell him?”

“Well, we went through Twilight’s book, and there’s nothing that would’ve disallowed any romance among coworkers, just some reminders to keeps things on the level between us and the students,” Starlight explained. “I also went through the EEA regulations, and those kind of relationships are discouraged but not outright banned, as long as you can keep things professional on school grounds. Relationships between faculty members I mean,” she swiftly added. “Romance between students and teachers are definitely a no according to the EEA.”

“You’re sure?”

“Have you been reading smut with school settings? I know how you get with books you like, but if you’re planning on enacting some scene from, I don’t know, Teacher, Please—“

“How do you even know what that, no, of course not. I meant about between coworkers.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, sure, like I told Spike, he’s free to date you all he likes, as long as you say yes,” Starlight Glimmer assured, her eyebrows waggling. “So, does that mean—“

“I said later,” Rarity whispered just as Twilight lowered her baton and turned to the rest of the room with a proud beam.

“So, I know this is all very exciting and quite a lot to take in, so if there are any questions please don’t hesitate to ask,” she said. Her smile faltered as silence answered her, quickly growing uncomfortable as time passed.

At last, the silence was broken as Spike cleared his throat. “I think we should move on to the last item on the agenda.”

Twilight sighed. “I suppose we should. We still need to come up with a way to celebrate our graduates.”

“What, you mean the graduation ceremony? I thought that was all figured out,” Rainbow Dash said.

“It is, but the ceremony is for everyone. Friends, family, representatives, they’re all going to be there, and it’s going to be a pretty serious event,” explained Twilight. “I was talking to Pinkie Pie, and she was right. The graduates could use something that’s just for them, so they can celebrate their accomplishments themselves, in a less formal setting.”

“Wait, does that mean—“

“That still doesn’t mean party cannons will be allowed at the graduation ceremony,” Twilight quickly added. Pinkie Pie sunk back in her seat, somewhat deflated. “Oh, and on a related note, we still haven’t heard from Star Swirl yet, so we might need to find another speaker.”

“So kind of like a reward or something like that for all their hard work,” Applejack said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I can get behind that. Anything in mind?”

“It’s got to be something big,” Rainbow Dash declared. “Like, what about a road trip to Las Pegasus? Now that sounds awesome.”

“It also sounds expensive,” Starlight said. “Maybe it were just a few creatures, but I doubt we have the budget to take the entire graduating class all the way to Las Pegasus.”

“And we’d have to send out new permission slips,” Twilight added. “The current ones on file only cover field trips that are a couple of days long at most, and just getting there would take nearly an entire day.”

“A party’s always nice,” Fluttershy suggested. “We could have one outside in the courtyard where there’s plenty of space.”

“Eh, I don’t know.” Pinkie Pie’s statement drew everyone’s attention and dropped more than one jaw. “I’ve already got a party planned for once final exams are all over, a party for when the final grades are out, Cranky Doodle and Matilda’s anniversary celebration, Cheerilee’s get-well-soon party, the opening for the refurbished town hall, and maybe a super secret congratulations-you-two-are-finally-dating-hopefully-it-works-out-and-if-not-hopefully-your-friendship-will-survive party for a pony and a dragon we may or may not know,” the party planner listed, tapping her hooves together. “And that’s not even including all of the birthdays or the post-graduation ceremony party I’ve got planned for everyone. It’s going to be a pretty party packed couple of months, and I’m not saying we can’t have another one, just that I’m kind of sort of might not have enough confetti, streamers, and balloons, especially if we want this to be the big celebration our students deserve.”

“Can’t we, I don’t know, have a party without confetti, streamers, and balloons?” Spike asked.

Pinkie Pie gasped. “Are you loco?” The rest of the room was treated to the rare sight of a pony staring down a dragon as they stood inches from each other. “What kind of party doesn’t have a confetti, streamers, and balloons?”

“A gala.”

“Exactly. A no fun, super boring, completely depressing gathering parading in the skin of a party, like a piñata made of mud and briar stuffed with the broken dreams of starry-eyed partygoers. Thank you, Starlight.”

“No, I meant we could have a gala,” Starlight said. “The Grand Galloping Gala is in a few months, and I’m sure some of the students from the graduating class are pretty excited about it. Now obviously we can’t take them to the biggest night of the year, but maybe we can have a little something like that here.”

“Starlight, you know the Grand Galloping Gala is terrible, right?” Rainbow Dash said. “Like, terrible with a capital T.”

“And I thought we were going for a less formal sort of setting,” Applejack added. “Fancy dresses and slow music don’t exactly scream less formal.”

“So we make it less terrible and less formal,” Starlight argued. “I mean, most of why the Grand Galloping Gala is like that is because of the ponies involved. That’s the kind of thing the organizers and the guests want.”

“A gala does carry more of an air of prominence than just another party, regardless of formality.” Rarity considered aloud. “It would satisfy the need for something big.”

“Hold on, don’t it take the Grand Galloping Gala a good part of the year to set up?” Applejack questioned. “We going to have enough time to get this all ready?”

“Of course we—“

“Without some spell that messes with time?” the farmer added.

Starlight rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure if we all pitch in a little, we’ll be able to have a gala ready in time without the need of time manipulation. We’re not dealing with the Grand Galloping Gala, we’re dealing with a school dance, which I’m sure the eight of us can handle.”

Twilight watched as slowly those around her began to nod their agreement. “Are there any other suggestions?” she asked. Seeing none, she continued, turning to Spike who nodded.

“Alright,” the dragon began, “then all in favor of Starlight’s impromptu gala—“

“Ooh, I like that word,” Pinkie Pie interjected. “Let’s call it that.”

“What, gala?” Spike asked.

“No, impromptu. Impromptu. Imp. Prompt. Prom. Ooh, can we call it a prom?”

Spike looked to Twilight and the rest of the ponies around him who could only offer him shrugs. “Okay, all in favor of having a prom for our very first graduating class, say aye.”

He received a loud chorus of affirmation as a reply. “Well, guess that’s everything,” he concluded, rolling up the parchment. “So, I guess we just have work out the details and—“

“Ahem?”

Spike turned and released a sigh once he noticed the look Twilight had given him. “All opposed, say nay.”

Only silence answered him. The scroll unraveled, and he begrudgingly scratched down a few more notes. “We’ll work out the details at a later time,” Twilight informed those before her. “But I think we have a pretty good idea of what to expect. Pinkie, could we talk later? I’m sure you already have some ideas on how to make this gala not horrible.”

“Prom,” Pinkie Pie corrected.

“Right. Fluttershy, could you let Discord know?“

“Discord?” Fluttershy repeated, vocalizing everyone’s surprise. “Of course, if that’s what you want.”

“You sure it’s a good idea to have Discord around for something so important?” Inquired Rainbow.

“He does have a habit of ruining galas,” Applejack agreed.

“Prom,” Pinkie immediately interjected.

“It’d be a bad idea not to include Discord on this,” Twilight asserted. “Imagine the chaos he‘d create if he discovered we left him out of another event and he decided to just show up uninvited the night of the gala, er, prom.”

“Yeah, I’m with Twilight on this one,” Starlight Glimmer said with a nod. “At least this way, if we give him something to do, we can keep an eye on him.”

“Hey, Twilight?” Spike pointed to the clock on the wall. “We need to wrap up.”

Twilight grimaced as she noted how far the clock hands had moved. “Right, right. We’ll talk later. Meeting adjourned.” And with that, all dispersed and headed to their respective classes, leaving behind an empty office, if one were to disregard the chairs and all of the headmare’s various knickknacks.

Chapter 5

Once upon a time, a small team of journalists had journeyed to Ponyville with the goal of interviewing the teachers of the then new and up-and-coming School of Friendship. With such a colorful and varied staff to question, one would expect an equally varied assortment of answers, from guarded (“I cannot speak about this subject at this time”) to respectful and understanding (“I cannot and do not agree with Chancellor Neighsayer’s position, but I believe that he, and the rest of the EEA, has good intentions”) to rude and hostile (“What I think about Neightsayer and the EEA? I’ll tell you what I think! He and his little posse are just a bunch of *Editor’s note: we are a respectable, family-friendly publication and this was neither respectable nor family-friendly*”) to the somewhat nonsensical (“So then I said, oatmeal? Are you crazy?”).

One question of particular reader interest was that of what were the hallmark’s of a good student. Again, there was some variety in the responses, with Applejack placing an emphasis on the importance of a student’s honesty while Fluttershy chose to focus on kindness toward others for instance, but there were also a few traits of note that were repeated. All six ponies had included, in some form or wording, hardworking and an inquisitive nature in their answers. Such would imply that the model student was one with the desire to learn new things and the willingness to apply the effort necessary to acquire such knowledge, a conclusion surprising absolutely no one. The final article was eventually deemed too dull and too obvious to publish, and the team of journalists turned their focus onto the latest celebrity scandal instead.

As the due date for the final paper approached and the days for the final exams drew near, a rush of both traits could be observed from the students of the School of Friendship. The library was packed daily, filled with students and the sounds of pens scratching paper and the turns of pages. Peers could be seen quizzing each other in the cafeteria, out in the courtyard and the surrounding gardens, even as they made their ways through the halls. It was a rare sight to catch a student, especially one of the graduating class, not studying some tome, reviewing notes, or working or reworking their thesis, the sole exceptions being when sleeping or during those very private moments in the lavatory.

The staff also found themselves swamped with work as students filled their offices and bombarded them with questions on the taught material, and as the due dates marched closer, the number of students and the number of questions multiplied. Was such and such important enough to be on the final exam, would this topic be worthy of an A+ thesis or just an average A, could a certain term be clarified and then simplified a couple of degrees, would it be possible to go over the entire half of the semester worth of material that I may or may not have slept through, the six teachers of the School of Friendship dealt with all these and more all while managing their own duties, jobs, and nap schedules.

But despite it all, and perhaps due to in part to their experience with solving schedule shattering disasters and taking sporadic trips as directed by a magical map, the apple farm continued to thrive, Rarity’s business continued to produce and sell, Rainbow Dash’s position on the Wonderbolts remained uncontested, and the planned gala received a set date, a plan of execution, and enough advertising posters to decorate nearly every inch of wall space in the school. Which led to a new question for the students to ask.

“What the heck is a prom?”

Smolder vocalized the question burning in everyone’s mind as she and her friends crowded around the colorful poster right outside the library they had just left. “Is that, what, some sort of pony thing?”

Five creatures turned to the sole pony of the group who quickly shook his head. “Hey, don’t look at me,” Sandbar said. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Maybe it’s an acronym?” suggested Ocellus. “Ponies Racing Over Mountains?”

“Oh, oh, what about Pies Ranked On, um, Mmmm!”

“Mmm?” Gallus repeated with a quizzing look.

“Yeah, mmm!” Silverstream patted her belly and licked the edges of her peak. “You know, mmm. Or Pink Red Orange, uh, hey Yona, what’s a color that starts with m?”

The yak groaned. “Yona not want to think right now, head still spinning from study session.”

“Does the poster say anything else?” Ocellus inquired.

Smolder leaned forward and squinted. “Members of the graduating class,” she read, “come celebrate your accomplishments at the first ever gala held at the School of Friendship. Yada yada, free food and drink, something about music, formal wear optional. Huh.” The dragon frowned. “Sounds like some sort of party, I guess.”

“Wait.” The sudden addition of weight forced Smolder to her knees as Silverstream leapt onto the dragon’s back in an attempt to get a better view of the poster. “Did you say gala? Like as in the Grand Galloping Gala?”

Sandbar stared. “How do you know what that is?”

“My cousin Skystar went with her mom a couple of years ago, and she told me all about it when I went home that year for the Three Days of Freedom festival,” Silverstream explained. “And what she told me sounded amazing.”

Gallus gave the hippogriff a wary look. “So it’s not just another party?”

“Oh no,” Silverstream answered with a shake of her head. The bends of her forelegs dug into Smolder’s back as she cupped her face between her talons. “It’s like this super huge party for super important ponies, and I guess important hippogriffs. You know, I never did asked if there were any changelings, dragons, griffons, or yaks. I mean, there could have been changelings disguised as ponies, but why would they do that?” She chuckled. “What was I, oh right, the Grand Galloping Gala! Anyways, every creature there was dressed in these really pretty dresses and suits, like princess pretty, the kind of stuff Professor Rarity makes and costs like a bajillion bits.”

“That sounds pretty, ngh, pretty,” Smolder grunted from beneath the storyteller as the others nodded. The dragon flung Silverstream off her back, and the hippogriff, no worse for wear, settled to her side.

“Yeah, and there was all this food that came on these little papers that you weren’t allowed to eat too many of, but that was okay because they weren’t all that great anyways,” Silverstream continued without missing a beat. “And there was this fancy band of ponies playing all these shiny musical instruments that kept playing all these slow tunes that no one wanted to dance to, and everyone just seemed to want to stand around and talk and talk.”

“Okay, you’re starting to lose me,” Gallus said, his features reflecting his disinterest as the others around him once again nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, Skystar told me she had a really awful time,” Silverstream said happily. “At least until someone brought in the statured remains of the Storm King, and Queen Novo just started throwing things at it, and then everyone joined in until the head fell off and smashed against the floor.”

Yona’s eyes grew wide. “Things get smashed at gala party? Like piñata?”

“Yeah, but without the candy and probably a lot more cathartic.” Silverstream sighed. “I wish I got to go.”

“So is prom just another way of saying gala?” Ocellus considered aloud as she scanned the poster for any additional clues. Past the fine text and the messy graphics, she found nothing.

“You’re the walking textbook here,” Gallus said with a wave of a claw. “Maybe you were right the first time, and it’s just some made up acronym. Pretty something something Party.”

“Looks like it’s a little after the last exam day,” Sandbar said, pointing at the date scribbled on the bottom. “Sounds like a nice way to unwind.”

Soft hoofsteps could be heard, growing louder as they approached. The group turned to find Starlight glaring at a small note she held with her magic. Her features immediately soften as she noticed the students, and she put the scrap piece of paper away. “Hey, everything alright?” Starlight looked to the poster they had been crowding around. “Oh wow, Pinkie Pie works fast. I think we only finished making all those a few hours ago. I made the design myself. Not bad, right?”

The six turned back to the poster and stared at the mess of colors of shapes. They shifted their confused and questioning gazes back to the grinning Starlight. Ocellus tried to smile back. “It’s a wonderful, ah...”

“Ice cream,” said Silverstream.

“Rose bush?” Sandbar suggested.

“Dropped quiche,” declared Smolder.

“Essence of pony soul,” Yona tried.

And all Gallus could muster was a defeated shrug. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing.”

“Oh quit messing around, it’s obviously a pony dancing.” Starlight pushed forward and gestured. “See, the legs, and the other legs, and that‘s the hem of the dress, and there’s the head.”

Silverstream tapped her chin. “You know, when you point it out, I can kind of, no actually I still don’t see it.”

“So this prom, it’s supposed to be a gala, which is some sort of special party or something?” Gallus questioned. “Does that sound about right?”

Starlight nodded. “That’s right. Pinkie Pie just wanted to call it a prom because she likes how it sounds.”

The students released in unison an “oh” of understanding, complete with nods as everything became clear. “Prom. Prrrrom.” There was a snort from Silverstream.

“Anyways, I don’t suppose any of you’ve seen Discord around, have you?”

There was a visible shudder among the students at Starlight’s question. “No, can’t say we have,” Sandbar answered warily. He took a step back.

“Discord not here, is he?” Yona asked as she looked over her shoulders, her panic most apparent of the the six.

“I don’t know,” Starlight grumbled. She pulled out the note from earlier. “I found this in my office, says he needs to see me. Apparently it’s something that’ll decide the fate of Equestria.” She rolled her eyes as she set the last phrase in quotation marks with her front hooves. “So it probably has something to do with Ogres and Oubliettes or cucumber sandwiches.”

“He didn’t write down where he wanted to meet?” Ocellus asked.

“Of course not, because that would make too much sense,” grumbled Starlight. “You didn’t see anything out of place in the library? No flying books or three-dimensional paintings?” She sighed as the students shook their heads. “Alright, thanks anyways. Good luck with the studying.”

Farewells were exchanged, and they separated, Starlight continuing her search in one direction as the others began making their to the dormitories in the other. Only a few steps had been taken before Sandbar’s ears twitched. “Hey, what’s up?” Gallus called as Sandbar turned to look behind.

“I thought I heard something,” he said, failing to notice the stones dance across the floor and fill the hole that suddenly opened up beneath Starlight Glimmer‘s hooves. “Guess not.”

And with a shrug, Sandbar continued on, leaving Starlight to glower at the draconequus sitting across from her, separated by a crystal, round table. She barely registered the others around her. A cinnamon roll, dejected from having its musical number utterly ignored, lain motionless and untouched even as the draconequus munched loudly on his own.

“I’m getting the feeling that you’re upset,” Discord said, his mouth full of pastry and tea. “Mad even. Are you mad? You’re mad, aren’t you?”

Starlight batted away the flying tea cups tapping at her horn. “You think?”

“Well, even for a pony who would start an entire village under the banner of equal mediocrity just because her friend moved such as yourself, that does not make much sense.” Discord swallowed, and Starlight watched as a visible budge travelled down his body, all the way to the end of his tail; it wasn’t the first time he reminded her of a snake. “After I went out of the way to get you since you took so long making us wait.“

“I would have here sooner if you bothered leaving a location in your note,” Starlight replied with gritted teeth.

“I would’ve figured such a talented and clever unicorn like yourself would’ve just used a locator spell on the note. I mean, it’s what Little Miss Great and Powerful over there did.”

Starlight followed Discord’s gesture toward the blue unicorn at her side. The unicorn frowned as she swished her cape over her shoulder with a loud huffed. “The Great and Powerful Trixie demands that you use her title with the respect and reverence it deserves. And also more tea, with cream this time.”

“So now that everyone’s here, could we maybe get started?” said the tall figure on the other side. Starlight turned to find two familiar changelings, both larger specimens than Ocellus. The lighter colored one who had spoken, his chitin lime with a carapace of a darker shade of green shielding much of his torso, had an uncertain smile on his face that demonstrated his confusion and nervousness. The slightly smaller changeling, his coloring of a much darker blue, however displayed a much more hostile appearance, his features frozen in a snarl. The large, red stallion sitting between the angry changeling and the spirit of chaos he was glaring at rubbed his neck nervously.

Starlight waved. “Hey Thorax, Pharynx,” she greeted.

“Hi Starlight, I hope this isn’t taking too much of your time,” the lime changeling said.

“Me? Please, you’re the one that has to run an entire hive. Hey, it’s been a while, Pharynx.”

“Hmph,” was all the darker changeling managed, his eyes still focused on Discord.

Starlight turned back to Thorax. “Is, ah, Pharynx okay?”

“Oh, Pharynx just, he thought Discord was kidnapping me and followed us here.” Thorax chuckled weakly. “He, well, you know, doesn’t really trust Discord all that much.”

“As no one should,” the Great and Powerful Trixie muttered.

“Well excuse me if I remember what happened to the hive the last time he came around,” Pharynx growled. “He left us defenseless from magic and our entire world upside down.”

“Which, we agreed, was good for us all in the end,” Thorax insisted.

“I’m not sure why I’m the one being singled out here,” Discord said, clutching his chest with his paw. “Those three are just as responsible.” Light suddenly beamed down on Thorax and the two unicorns.

Pharynx’s frown deepened. “Please. My brother’s harmless, and I can deal with those two. You, however, are a problem.” The changeling flashed his teeth.

“How flattering.” There was an audible crack as Discord closed his claw around a large fly swatter.

“Pharynx, I told you, Discord’s a friend,” Thorax assured with a sigh.

“Wasn’t exactly friendly of him to throw you into that bag and drag you all the way here.”

“Isn’t that what you did to Starlight and I when we first met?” Trixie notes.

“Yeah,” Pharynx admitted with a shrug, “but I wasn’t trying to be friendly.”

“Oh, now this I have to hear.” Tea spewed from Trixie’s lips as Discord suddenly appeared behind her and rested his chin against her shoulder. “And here I thought you were an escape artist.”

The large, red stallion opened his mouth. “Um—“

“Right, right, thank you, Big Mac. Catching up can wait.” There was a flash of light, and Discord returned to his original seat. “Fellow saviors of Equestria, plus the shining example of nepotism, meet Big McIntosh. Big Mac, lesser saviors of Equestria, and also that one bug whom no one invited.”

Big McIntosh and Starlight shared a nod as Thorax waved and Pharynx and Trixie rolled their eyes. “Can we get on with whatever this is?” Trixie grumbled. “I had to postpone a show in Manehattan for this.”

“Well, as I wrote in my note,” Discord began, “this is a matter that could decide the fate of Equestria.” The surrounding lights dimmed, casting a shadow around them and the table. “A matter I can only trust with the lot of you.” He clapped his claw against his paw, and a spotlight appeared over the center of the table, lighting up small paper cutouts of a familiar dragon and unicorn. “Now don’t freak out, but it would appear that Spike finally asked Rarity out on a date, as in a date as more than friends, and in an utterly unexpected turn of events, she did not turn him down, and I’m stuck cutting the Apple family’s lawn for a month.”

The reactions varied, from victorious jubilation from Big McIntosh to Thorax’s cheery surprise to the complete and indifferent confusion shared by Trixie and Pharynx. “Wait, how do you know about that?” Starlight inquired.

“What, were they trying to keep that a secret?” Discord started to laugh. “I keep a spare ear around the school to make sure I’m not missing anything important. You did make me vice-head after all.”

“Okay, refresh my memory,” said Trixie. “What’s a Spike?”

“He’s Twilight’s dragon assistant,” Starlight explained. “And Rarity’s one of Twilight’s close friends. She makes dresses.”

“Oh. No wonder I don’t know who those are. Why is their love life so important?”

Discord leaned forward, his claw and paw clasped together. “Because we need to find out when that date is and ruin it.”

Again, the responses Discord received were mixed. There were stares of bored disappointment to stares of horror and uncertainty. “You interrupted my tour and kidnapped the ruler of a nation for this,” Trixie said slowly, hoping that she had somehow misheard and that a correction would soon be made.

“Ruin their date? Why? I thought you and Spike are friends,” exclaimed Starlight. Her front hooves clicked against the hard crystal table as she leaned in.

“Oh come on, I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.” Discord turned to the red stallion next to him. “Big Mac, surely you understand the stakes here.”

The stallion simply shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. I mean, you’ve helped with me and Sugar Belle before. Can’t think of why you’d want to mess with Spike and Rarity.”

“Maybe, maybe Discord’s afraid of being left out?” Thorax suggested. “I know I’d feel pretty awful if my friend started spending more time someone else instead of me.”

“Or maybe...” Trixie smirked at the draconequus. “Maybe Discord’s upset he’ll be the only bachelor left in his little group.”

Starlight rubbed the end of her chin in thought. “Hmm, Trixie might be onto something. Discord, you’re not feeling jealous over this, are you?”

“Me, jealous over another fool who’s fallen prey to the wiles of the opposite gender and to the chemical composition you lesser beings willingly enslave yourselves for and make more tolerable by giving it a cute little term like love?” Discord scoffed. “Please, I happen to enjoy my independence and free time. This has nothing to do with any feelings of envy.”

“Then this is about?” Trixie prompted, waving a hoof.

“Okay, do you have any idea how many times Captain Wuzz and Sir McBigguns have had to save some poorly disguised Rarity clone?”

“Sir what now?” Starlight asked.

Discord pointed to Big McIntosh now adorn in black armor and equipped with a large blade on his back and an unicorn horn on his head. Discord, meanwhile, was wearing a tunic and sporting a flowing mane of light blond hair that seemed to fly with some nonexistent breeze. Starlight brought her face into her hoof. “So this is about Ogres and Oubliettes.”

“Of course this is about Ogres and Oubliettes!” Discord slammed his fists against the table. “And I will not have my fantasy fulfilling experience become highjacked by someone else’s fantasy. Look, I can tolerate the occasional romantic delusion; like Big Mac said, I’ve helped with him and his mare.”

“Romantic—hey!”

“But can you imagine what would happen if Spike and Rarity actually got together?” Discord pointed toward the table’s center, at the paper cutouts. Spike now wore a green cape with a matching wizard hat and an appropriate gray bread, and Rarity was wearing a garish, blindingly pink dress. Paper figures of Big McIntosh and Discord as they currently appeared had joined them.

“And so we have saved the Princess Schmarity!” the little paper Spike squeaked cheerfully. “Now to spend the next few hours describing in painstaking detail me and Ra—Scmarity’s romantic dinner and subsequent make-out session instead of slaying skeletons and monsters, just like last time. And as always, you two can watch. Roll for initiative!”

“Kill us!” paper Sir McBigguns and Captain Wuzz squealed with equal cheer.

“I’ll never enjoyed another Ogres and Oubliettes guys night again,” Discord sobbed, pulling out locks of hair. “Ever since I gave up taking over Equestria and throwing the land into complete and utter chaos, those nights and Fluttershy’s tea parties are all I have left. You might as well turn me back into stone.”

“Is that an option?” Trixie and Pharynx said together and in turn receiving stern looks from Starlight and Thorax respectively. “Only kidding,” Trixie added with a soft chuckle while Pharynx’s silence spoke volumes.

“So, everyone on board?” Discord asked as he scanned around the table. “Great! Now we first need to find out when this date is, which will be Starlight’s job. Then it’s just a matter of making sure everything goes wrong. Trixie, just be yourself and—“

“I’m not taking any part of this,” Starlight Glimmer declared. “It’s completely selfish, unmoral to the point that I’ll probably lose my guidance counselor job if Twilight ever finds out I even heard about this, and really, like really, shortsighted.”

“Shortsighted?” Discord repeated. “Okay, I expected the first two objections but shortsighted? Me, shortsighted?”

“You clearly didn’t think this through. What do you think’ll happen if you do go through with this and succeed?” Starlight’s horn lit up, and there was a blinding flash. Once the light had faded and vision returned, all returned their gazes to the center of the table. The Rarity cutout had disappeared, and the paper Spike had lost his beard and wizard costume. Instead, he wore a tight black shirt with torn sleeves, and his eyes were painted the same dark color. His smile was replaced with a frown, and he seemed to cast a shadow over the other figures.

“The heroes are crushed by the unbearable weight of this cold, cruel, loveless world,” the Spike cutout droned. “With no hope or purpose, you lay down your weapons and sit there, contemplating the pointlessness of it all. Success is fleeting. Happiness is an illusion. Hearts are meant to be broken, and dreams are born to die unfulfilled. What’s the point of continuing on? Game over, love is dead.”

“Liebe ist tot,” Sir McBigguns and Captain Wuzz cheered. “Und wir haben es getötet. Wie sollen wir uns gegenseitig trösten, die Mörder aller Mörder?”

Discord opened his mouth only to close it. After a moment, he tried again, and again his mouth closed without any words leaving it. “Okay,” he finally managed, “first, don’t touch my stuff. That was rude, and I don’t know how I feel about you hijacking my props like that, mostly because I’m a little busy trying to decide which outcome is worse.”

“Second one,” Big McIntosh answered with absolute conviction.

“Must be if it can make a changeling cry,” Trixie said, pointing.

“Nah, it’s really not that hard,” Pharynx grumbled as he gingerly placed a foreleg over his brother’s shoulder in reluctant support.

“It’s just so depressing,” Thorax sniffed. There was a snap, and a handkerchief appeared next to him. “Thank you.”

“Look, why don’t we just leave Spike and Rarity to their date, alone, without any influence on our part, and see what happens?” Starlight suggested. “We can always deal with aftermath later.”

“What, you mean just wait for the problem to manifest itself and solving it then instead of identifying the potential causes and trying to prevent the issue from ever becoming one?” Pharynx asked.

Discord shrugged. “That’s the Equestrian way.”

“Well then this has been a colossal waste of my valuable time,” Trixie huffed. “Discord, take me back to Manehattan. My adoring fans are waiting.”

“Fine. Just take the door on the left and you’ll end up in the same janitor’s closet you came in through.,” Discord directed.

“Ha, no. The Great and Powerful Trixie will not walk through that dirty, rundown public restroom a second time. You will take me directly to my wagon.”

“I’m beginning to remember why we don’t hang out.” Discord snapped his fingers, and Trixie disappeared with a flash. “And don’t worry,” he added, cutting the remaining unicorn off as she opened her mouth to speak. “I sent her exactly where she asked.”

“To her wagon?”

“Yes.”

“In Manehattan?”

“The one and only.”

“In this dimension and this timeline and this time period?”

“No alternative universes or time travel involved,” Discord assured. His grin was just a little too wide. “Exactly where she asked.”

“And yet I’m still worried,” Starlight muttered with a shake of her head.

“We should probably get going too,” exclaimed Thorax. “It’s been, well—“

“A complete waste of time and effort that could have been better spent on securing our borders or stabilizing our relations with the other nations or drilling holes into our legs?” Pharynx offered.

“Nice. I was going to say it was nice seeing everyone here again,” Thorax finished. “We should do this again some time. Oh, and be sure to let me know how Spike’s date turns out. I’ll have to congratulate him properly. Or, um, comfort him if things go badly.”

He and Starlight exchanged waves and goodbyes, with another snap from Discord, Thorax, Pharynx, and Big McIntosh vanished along with the crystal table. “Welp, guess that’s that,” Discord said as he stretched upward, toward the ceiling somewhere above the shadows. The light had disappeared with the table, and even with her horn lit, Starlight could see little.

“Aren’t you forgetting somepony?” Starlight demanded.

“Can’t you teleport yourself?”

“Not without a point of reference. I don’t even have an idea of where we are right now.”

Discord sighed. “You unicorns and your magic rules, I don’t even know why you bother.” He became to march forward. “Come on,” he instructed.

Starlight followed Discord through the darkness, barely in sight by the light of her horn. Her pace gradually went from a walk to a trot to keep up with the draconequus, and her breathing became labored from both the physical exertion and the growing panic of being left behind. As she was about to call out and request for a slower pace, Starlight noticed a slim light at the end. Discord had stopped at the light, and as she approached, she found herself staring at a door, slightly ajar and with light seeping through the small opening.

The door swung open, and Starlight found herself stepping out into one of the School of Friendship’s halls. She turned back and stared into the room she had just exited. Buckets, brooms and mops, and shelves of cleaning products stared back. Several questions popped into her head and danced on the edge of her tongue, only to be silenced after Starlight reminded herself of who was standing next to her. She turned and watched Discord tap his foot against the hard floor, his features twisted in annoyance as if stones beneath his mismatched feet had offended him.

“I see gravity’s still mandatory,” he said, voice dripping with disdain. “Honestly, I’m beginning to think the position you gave me was little more than a cheap ploy to wrap up some lesson on making sure your friends aren’t being left out.”

“Well, you’re welcome to make gravity optional at the prom.”

“I suppose that’ll suffice,” Discord conceded with false reluctance. “And what’s with that name? Is it supposed to be some sort of acronym? Post-traumatic Rescues Of Millennials? Pink Rhinos Often Mingle?”

“It’s, just roll with it,” Starlight said with a sigh. “And we’ve agreed right? No interfering with Spike and Rarity’s date, okay.”

“Yes, yes, no meddling.”

“I’m serious. You know this is a big deal for Spike and, and you’re glowing.” Starlight blinked. “Why are you glowing?”

“Glowing? I’m not glowing.” Discord looked down. Light emanated from every part of his uneven body. “That’s odd. I’m not doing that.” He turned to Starlight. “Are you doing that?”

“Not me,” she assured with a shake of her head. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m glowing! How am I supposed to feel?”

“Okay, okay. Just let me think.” Starlight shuffled through her thoughts, looking for the most rational explanation. Her brain was still trying to reconcile rational and Discord when a blur of blue entered the hall and passed by, followed by Spike.

“Rainbow, stop!” the dragon called out. “He’s over there.”

The blur returned. “Okay, good, we found you,” Rainbow Dash said, pointing at Discord. “And you are glowing. Great. We all need to get to Twilight’s castle ASAP. Come on ponies, and, uh, you, we’ve got a crisis on our hooves.”

“I didn’t do it,” Discord immediately declared. “I’ve been with Starlight this entire time.”

“Wait, does it have to do with why Discord’s glowing?” Starlight asked.

“Maybe, probably?” Rainbow looked to Spike.

“Definitely,” Spike said. “Look, Princess Celestia is here, and she’s already with Twilight, and she can explain it way better than we can. Just, they found Starswirl the Bearded and, well...” He swallowed and looked over his shoulders. Even with the halls devoid of potential eavesdroppers, the dragon still lowered his voice.

“It’s Tirek.”

Chapter 6

There are those in Ponyville who could still recall a time where there was only one alicorn princess, two if you were aware and counted the pink one. There was a time where mad mares from the moon didn’t try to bring about eternal night, a time where unicorns didn’t grow wings, a time before the School of Friendship and the opulent crystal structure opposite of it that served as the headmare’s home. There were those in Ponyville that could remember the large oak tree that stood in town which had housed both a modest library and a certain student of friendship with an impressive future ahead of her, its charred roots now resting in that mare’s new castle serving as a reminder of the wondrous memories made within its trunk.

It was amazing the vast changes a few years could bring.

During that time not so long ago, a younger, wingless Spike awoke one morning refreshed with a quick stretch, a broad smile, and a desire for Twilight Sparkle to partake in more adventures. This morning, the older, more aerial Spike reluctantly dragged himself out of bed with his back slumped and appendages groaning, his eyes baggy and his vision blurry, and an uncharacteristic distain toward journeys, adventures, and maps. It was amazing the vast changes the years could bring.

As he stepped into the kitchen for breakfast, Starlight greeted him with a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t get much sleep?”

Spike grunted an affirmative before grabbing a mug and the pot of coffee on the stove.

“Careful,” Starlight said, “I just made that so it’s—“

Spike down the full cup in one gulp and gagged at the sudden bitterness. Steam and the sounds of his tongue smacking against the roof of his mouth escaped his maw. “Still hot,” Starlight finished as Spike began to pour himself another cup, this time leaving room for the milk he removed from the refrigerator.

The sip he took this time was more moderated and earned another grimace. Opening a cabinet that had once been out of reach without hovering and removing a bag of sugar, he asked Starlight, “Any news from Twilight and Discord? Princess Celestia?”

“Pretty sure you’d have been the first to know,” Starlight said as she watched the dragon dump spoonful after spoonful of sugar into his cup. He took another sip, and again he frowned. A short burst of green flames spewed from his lips and licked the bottom of the mug, heating its contents until the coffee had returned to its original scalding temperature.

This time, the sip he took was granted a small grin of satisfaction that disappeared as Spike returned to Starlight. “You think they’re alright?”

“Twilight and Discord? Yeah, probably,” Starlight said. “I wouldn’t worry too much. I mean, it’s just another friendship quest.”

“A friendship quest all the way to Tartarus to talk to Tirek of all beings,” Spike muttered.

“Okay, yeah, there’s that,” Starlight conceded. “So it’s not your typical mission of spreading love and friendship, and sure maybe this is a little advanced for Discord’s first friendship quest, and okay, they’re taking a little longer—“

“It’s already been a few of days. That’s way longer than any of the other friendship quest you guys been on.”

“Well, like Twilight wrote in her letter, Discord wanted to take the scenic route,” Starlight said. “You were there when Princess Celestia explained the situation, it was pretty obvious Discord wasn’t looking forward to seeing Tirek again. Which is understandable, considering how the last time they met, Tirek convinced Discord into betraying all of you and join him in conquering Equestria before before Tirek turned on him and stole his magic and Applejack, how did Pinkie Pie describe it, dropped the most ironic echo ever uttered by a pony to a draconequus.” She paused. “Does it make me a bad pony if I kind of wished I was there to see the look on his face when that happened?”

”Kind of, yeah.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t kind of wish that.”

Spike sighed. He took a seat at the kitchen table as Starlight began to pour her own cup. “How are you not worried?” he asked. “I mean, Tirek wanting to talk to Twilight and Discord? Alone? It’s a trick, it has to be. Tirek’s got to be up to something.”

“Obviously. We all know that, but you heard the princess; Star Swirl the Bearded is still unconscious and without magic, and there haven’t been any other attacks or magic loss. Right now this is our only lead.” Starlight placed a supportive hoof on Spike’s shoulder. “Look, I get that you’re worried, I am too, but right now there’s nothing we can do. The map sent them, and it hasn’t steered us wrong before. Like Princess Celestia said, we’ve got to trust our friends, and I trust Twilight and, well I trust Twilight to keep Discord out of trouble. Or at the very least try.” Starlight’s smile faltered under Spike’s stare. “Was that at least a little bit reassuring?”

“Up until the end anyways,” Spike answered.

“Well worrying about it isn’t going to help. Don’t forget, Twilight’s counting on us too. We’ve got a school to run, and that means tests to organize, theses to grade, and an end of the year gala to prepare in Twilight’s absence all while making sure the student body doesn’t panic over the slim possibility of Tirek returning.” Starlight allowed herself a little sigh. “Never thought I’d end up as headmare again.”

“Hey, we all agreed you were the most qualified,” Spike said. “And this time, we still have most of the staff. That, and with Discord not being able to ‘help,’ I’m sure this time everything’ll go smoother. Provided Tirek doesn’t end up escaping or anything like that.”

“If that happened, we could cancel the final exams and probably wouldn’t have to grade all those graduate theses. Hmm.”

“Wishing for something like that to happen definitely makes you a bad pony,” Spike said, frowning.

Starlight raised her forelegs and chuckled. “Kidding, I’m kidding,” she assured. “Mostly. It’s just, I mean, there’s a lot of words on friendship we’ve got to go through.”

“We should probably set a page limit next year,” Spike agreed. With his coffee finished, Spike removed himself from his seat. “So what’s the plan for today? If you’re busy with guidance counselor stuff, I can take care of Twilight’s class for today. I’ve got all of Twilight’s notes.”

“Actually, I was hoping if you could start organizing the theses together and sort out who grades what,” Starlight said. “I don’t think I understand the instructions Twilight left on her grading scheme entirely, but I figured you’d be able to figure it out what she wanted since you’ve worked with her longer. Don’t worry about class, I might not be the Princess of Friendship, but I know the material well enough.”

Spike shrugged. “Hey, you’re the boss, it’s your call.”

“Right. And if you’re heading out, could you give Pinkie Pie a message?” Starlight requested. “Just wanted to see if she’s heard from her party expert yet.”

“Party expert?” Spike repeated. “Who would Pinkie Pie turn to for party expertise? And why?”

“No idea about who. As for why, Pinkie’s not exactly too keen about meeting the Grand Galloping Gala organizers Twilight invited. Which I get, some of ponies from Canterlot aren’t always the easiest to work with, even when they’re not explicitly reminding you how much better they are than you, but if we want to have a fun event that still has just the right feel of a gala, we’re going to have to work with those organizers.”

“You hear from the organizers yet?” Spike asked.

Starlight shook her head and frowned. “Maybe if Twilight had been the one to write the letter, we’d get a response sooner.”

“And if they don’t respond at all?”

“Use our combined experiences of the Grand Galloping Gala with whatever the library has on the subject, and hope for the best.”

Spike took a cursory stroll through his memories of the previous galas and shuddered at the mess that had always punctuated the night. “I don’t think our cleaning staff is big enough for that.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Starlight assured. “We always do. Anyways, Pinkie thought this pony might be able to help us. Get me an update, would you?” She rolled her eyes as Spike responded with a mock salute. “With a little less sass please. I don’t have Twilight’s tolerance.”

With that, the two separated, Spike toward the castle’s exit and Starlight remaining in the castle’s kitchen to tend to her coffee, which had finally reached a manageable temperature. It didn’t take long before Spike stepped off of hard crystal and onto the softer dirt roads of Ponyville. Already a few ponies were up and out, making their way to their jobs or to grab some breakfast at one the few eateries currently open at this early hour. Those who had time to spare greeted the familiar dragon and he them; any panic over Spike’s growth in stature as a sign of another greed-induced dragon rampage had long since passed.

A few new businesses had sprouted over the years to accommodate the increased needs of the School of Friendship and its growing student body, but for the most part Ponyville looked much as it did the day Twilight and Spike first arrived, which was no small feat considering the number of times the town served as ground zero for some disaster. The majority of buildings still had that rustic style, with a uniform yellow roof covering two or three stories at most and a visible wooden framework, and those that didn’t were usually fashioned, and had been for years, in a way to advertise their wares and services, like the massive gingerbread house Spike was heading towards and the elaborate carousel with decorated dancing pony mannequins he was passing by.

As always, the beat of Spike’s heart skipped as he passed the home and business of Rarity, and as he reminded himself of the approaching night they had planned, his heart hammered against his chest excitedly. Having dinner in a fancy restaurant, as fancy as you could get in a town like Ponyville anyways, as more than friends. Going to a show as more than friends. And after that, after that, just imagining the best possible outcome left Spike in a different world, one full of absolute giddiness and warm feelings that left him dancing in the air as his wings subconsciously began to carry him off the ground. As long as every went as they had planned, as long as everything was perfect, as long as he didn’t—

“—mess this up.”

Spike found himself crashing back down to earth and reality. He quickly picked himself up and looked to the source of his fantasy’s interruption. He discovered, to his surprise, that he wasn’t the only dragon around Carousel Boutique, though Spike’s lack of awareness couldn’t be entirely attributed to him being lost in daydream. For some odd reason, Smolder had chosen to obscure herself in one of the surrounding bushes. Dirt clung to her scales, especially those covering her claws, one grasping a small bag and the other gripped around what may have been a scroll. She seemed to be muttering to herself, and while what Spike could hear of her soliloquy was limited and lacked any semblance of context, he could detect an apparent frustration, an observation further supported by Smolder’s erratic motions toward the boutique’s entrance and back to the bush.

Many would have seen a potentially crazed fire hazard and turned to run the opposite direction, perhaps contacting the local authorities if they felt like being a good citizen that day. Spike saw a friend in need, and while he did not know if he could fulfill that need or even what that need was, he started toward Smolder, ready to assist however he could.

Though he made no attempt to mask his approach, Smolder failed to perceive Spike until he was only a few steps away. She froze stiff and dropped what she had been holding. Gleaming stones scattered from the sack and onto the lawn. The sight of gemstones awoke Spike’s stomach, driving it to growl and remind him that the coffee he had taken in was a poor substitute for actual breakfast, but he pushed aside any gluttonous thoughts as he gathered the fallen gems and returned them to the bag, then to Smolder. Smolder barely registered Spike or the offered bag, opting instead to stare blankly at him.

“So, early gem hunt?” Spike said, hoping to spark a conversation or any reaction really. Was this another dragon thing, Spike wondered, some defensive measure in place with a trigger he had unwittingly set off? Even after all this time, his ignorance toward all things dragonish still showed.

“What?” Smolder blinked and her eyes widened at the sack in Spike’s claws like she had noticed it just now. “Oh, right. Gem hunt.” She grabbed the bag. “Right, you know, for breakfast. The cafeteria at school’s great and all, but it’s not exactly what you’d call dragonish.”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to get gems on the menu for a while now,” Spike said, “but according to Twilight, we don’t have the budget.”

“Can’t you just pick them out of the ground?”

“We could, but then we have to consider labor costs for excavation, which means dealing with contractors, and then there’s making sure all the gems prepared aren’t violating any food regulations and pass health inspections that don’t exist because gems aren’t recognized as a food by the board of health inspection, which means having to petition a new category or creating a separate bureau and don’t get me started on retraining the cafeteria staff on proper handling of supplies and how to avoid cross-contamination.”

Smolder blinked. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I know. But that’s the education sector for you.” Spike shook his head. He gestured to the bag. “Is that going to be enough?”

“I’m, I’m not that hungry,” Smolder answered. “I just, uh, wanted a taste. Er, I mean, it’s for, you know, seasoning. To go on pancakes or whatever’s for breakfast today.”

“Oh. I figured you came here to see Rarity for her gem locating spell to help your hunt. Guess that wasn’t it.” Smolder’s wordless curse as her forehead met her palm went unnoticed as Spike bent down to pick up the dropped scroll, which turned out to be a rolled up magazine. A fashion magazine at that, based on the duo of posing mares on the cover. Each mare wore a gown, differing in style and color that complemented the wearer’s own color and build, with a larger backless dress for the pegasus, giving her wings plenty of room to flaunt, and a long flowing train made of semitransparent material for the earth pony that accentuated her shapely hind legs.

Smolder snatches the magazine out of Spike’s claws and clutched it behind her back. Her breathing had accelerated, Spike noted, and her face had become flushed. “What was—“ he began.

“It’s nothing!”

“It kind of looked like—“

“It’s not! Not mine. It’s not mine I mean. I’m just holding it for, for a friend.”

“You took it with you while gem hunting?” Spike asked, raising a brow. “And isn’t that from the library? Yeah, Twilight might not care for magazines, but she keeps a pretty detailed catalogue of all our subscriptions, and I think I recognize that one.”

“Well I, wanted to ask Professor Rarity about it. Just in case anything related to fashion was on the final exam.“

“That’s what office hours are for.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was in the neighborhood, so eh?” Smolder shrugged. “Come on, you’re not seriously getting on my case for trying to be a good student, are you?”

“I, no! No, of course not!” Spike exclaimed. Now he was off guard and on the defensive. “Look, it’s just, Rarity, all the professors, they’ve got lives outside of school, and I’m not saying those are more important than your friendship education, just maybe something to consider before—“

The door to the boutique swung open, and both dragons turned to find a familiar yet not completely expected white unicorn at the threshold. The young mare stared for a moment, then grinned knowingly at Spike. “Good morning, Spike,” she greeted.

“Hey, good morning Sweetie Belle,” Spike said in return. “Guess we were being pretty loud. We didn’t bother you, did we?

“Bother? No, no bother.” Sweetie Belle’s grin grew wider, her eyes narrowing. “I mean, you might have bothered Rarity, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh. Sorry.” As he spoke, Rarity appeared behind the younger unicorn, looking tired and very annoyed. “Sorry Rarity.”

“Sorry?” Rarity repeated, annoyance and exhaustion making room for puzzlement. “Whatever for?”

“For being too loud? Sweetie Belle said you were, uh, Sweetie Belle? Is there something wrong with your eye?”

“My eye?” Sweetie Belle giggled. “Nope. Nothing wrong with mine.”

“You sure? You keep winking.”

“Nope. Nothing wrong with my eye,” Sweetie Belle assured. “But I think you might have caught my sister’s, if you know—“

“That’s it,” Rarity growled. “Out! Go!” she exclaimed, shooing the younger unicorn away. With a squeal, Sweetie Belle pranced away, making sure to turn and expose her tongue once out of swatting range.

“Good luck on your date!” she yelled before running off, her laughter lingering behind for a few short moments before following after her.

Rarity groaned as she rested her head against the center of her hoof. “I remember a time when I wished my little sister was still a little filly who loved puppet shows and dress up. Now, I keep wondering why she can’t act her age.”

“So I’m guessing Sweetie Belle just found out,” Spike said, looking over his shoulder in the direction Sweetie Belle had skipped off in. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“As long as she doesn’t say anything to Mother and Father that could be misconstrued in any way, shape, or form,” Rarity explained. “Otherwise, I’m afraid you may experience a lengthy and awkward questioning period by two very well-meaning but somewhat overbearing ponies in the near future.”

“Oh. Any advice?”

“Have a twenty year plan at the ready, and brush up on all sports trivia within the last fifty years.” Rarity sighed and shook her head. “But never mind that,” she said, smiling at the dragon standing in front of her. “Was there something you needed?”

“Actually, Smolder here has a question for you.” Spike gestured toward the bush to the side that had suddenly grown an orange tail, scales, a pair of leathery wings, and a snout; the bush, it turned out, was a poor hiding spot for a dragon of Smolder’s size and color.

“I see. Smolder, dear, would you care to join us out here in the opening?” As the dragon reluctantly removed herself from the foliage, Rarity leaned toward Spike and whispered, “This wouldn’t happen to be a sort of dragon ritual, would it?”

“What, hiding in a bush?” Spike whispered back. “I don’t think so. I mean, yeah, I guess I do that too sometimes, but it’s more of something I picked up from Twilight really.”

“Ah.” Rarity returned her attention to the other dragon who occupied herself with shaking off the clinging twigs and leaves that had followed out of the bush. “Now, this question, would it happen to be the reason why you spend so much time outside my door during office hours only to run off before I can invite you in?”

“There were others around,” Smolder mumbled, kicking at the dirt. “It’s kind of a personal question.”

“A personal question?” Rarity repeated. “I’m afraid I’m not entire certain I’ll be much help. That‘s more in the guidance counselor’s area of expertise, after all. Have you seen Starlight?”

“It’s not, I don’t think, this isn’t something she can, never mind.” Smolder’s grip around the magazine tightened. “Forget it, it’s not important. Sorry to bother you.”

“Hm. Well, while you’re here, would you like to come in?” Rarity stepped to the side and gestured toward the boutique’s interior. “There are, ah, a few things we must discuss.”

“Um, okay? Am I in trouble?” Smolder questioned.

“I’d rather we’d discuss this matter privately,” Rarity said. Again, she gestured Smolder forward. “Come, come.”

Spike and Smolder shared a look then a shrug and moved forward. Smolder entered unhindered, but Spike found his path blocked by a white hoof and an apologetic smile. “I’m very sorry, Spike dearest, but this really has to be just between Smolder and I. Please understand.”

“I guess,” Spike replied. His hesitation had last for only a couple of seconds, but they were a couple of seconds densely concentrated with confusion and unease with a small bit of hurt that was quickly replaced with more confusion once Spike recognized it as irrational given that Rarity’s rejection was obviously not personal. So instead he focused on the cause of confusion, namely the oddity that was Rarity’s request. Did his presence or absence really matter? After all, as assistant to the headmare, he had access to the student records, and if Smolder was having issues, he’d be able to determine what they were after a little bit of digging. If anything, a part of him argued, it was his responsibility, as the headmare’s most available proxy, to find out what was going on.

But, the rest of Spike argued back, as her friend, he should and could trust Rarity in her decision. “Okay,” he said, this time with more conviction. “If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you two to it. See you later?”

“Of course,” Rarity said. She leaned forward and left a quick peak on his cheek. “Thank you darling.”

She watched and waited for Spike to flutter off before closing the door and letting her composure collapse. She crumbled to the floor as her knees gave way and fanned herself furiously as her face grew flushed. Such displays of affection had been, well, Rarity wouldn’t say they were common, but they had always been present. A little kiss on the cheek, a hug, all completely platonic and more generously given when Spike was younger. Of course now, with their planned night so close in sight and their relationship becoming something more, those little gestures carried far more weight and meaning than before. And if things ended poorly...

Rarity took a deep breath and stood up. The blush faded. She would have to adapt, place more thought and care into each shared touch in the future, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on the subject, not when her attention was required elsewhere. Rarity made her way through her shop and found her guest not far from the entrance, examining the mannequins and the dresses they advertised. The sight of Smolder’s rather intense stare at her wares left Rarity with a sense of pride and accomplishment that she always felt whenever she introduced her creations to a customer. The piece that Smolder had been enraptured by was an elaborate dress with a light yellow body that ended in a raised train with a silk trimming layered over it. A large pink ribbon extended from the front and wrapped itself into a bow around the back, and the entire ensemble was completed with a large white hat with a thin, silk veil.

“Like it?” Rarity asked, sending Smolder into a startled leap. “Admittedly, it is a bit out of place in Ponyville, more suited for the garden parties of Canterlot really.”

“Oh,” Smolder said slowly. “Sure, I guess.” She followed Rarity further inside and watched as the store transitioned into more of a domicile, messier and with more framed pictures of friends and family than stiff mannequins. They entered the kitchen, and Rarity gestured toward the table in the center.

“Tea?” Rarity offered, holding a pot already prepared.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” Smolder added, having to remind herself to mind those tricky pony manners. She accepted the tiny cup Rarity set before her and forced herself to wait for the unicorn to finish filling her own cup. “So, what do we need to talk about?”

“I was hoping you would tell me,” Rarity said, smiling. “Now that it’s just the two of us, would you please share this private matter that only I can help you with?”

A series of emotions danced across Smolder’s face, first surprise, then relief and thankfulness that was swiftly followed by discomfort and reluctance. Slowly, she flattened the magazine, set it on the table, and pointed at the mares on the cover. “Um, so, I was wondering if, if you could...”

The rest of Smolder’s request tapered off. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Rarity asked. She watched as Smolder took in a deep breath. Instead of relaxing, however, the dragon’s entire body grew stiffer. Her diaphragm, or whatever dragons called that area of their anatomy, expanded as air continued to be vacuumed through Smolder’s mouth and throat and into her lungs. Instinctively, Rarity leaned back and braced herself against the table.

“I need a dress from prom!” Smolder’s roar seemed to shake the whole building. Sparks flew from her mouth, leaving small scorch marks on the table cover that their little tea cups had evacuated, carried by the force of Smolder’s exclamation. “Oh, er, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Rarity assured, hoping that Smolder wouldn’t notice how weak her attempt at smiling was. She didn’t need a mirror to know that all her morning mane preparations had just been wasted. “So, a dress for prom? Is that correct?”

Smolder nodded. “It’s just, lately there’s always mares in the hall talking about the prom and the dresses they plan to wear and stuff. I’m not jealous of them or anything,” she quickly added. “I just, figured the prom might be a nice opportunity to, you know, wear something, cute.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Smolder bowed her head, hoping to hide her burning blush. “And I know you’re a famous dressmaker and everything so I was hoping you could make something for me. I brought gems to pay with.” She placed the little bag onto the table. “If it’s not enough, I can find more.”

Rarity opened the bag and took a quick appraisal of its contents. Most of the gems were cracked or scratched in places, some even in pieces. She had always assumed that all dragons were natural excavators, considering their preferred diet, but it was apparent from this collection that not all dragons had Spike’s delicate, careful touch. She looked back to Smolder and her dirty claws folded in front of her, her hopeful stare, her tail anxiously waving in the air. “Well, everything does appear in order,” Rarity said at last, to which Smolder released a sigh of relief and threw up a fist. “Full disclosure, however, I’ve never tried making a dress for a dragon, so I will need your help in some areas.”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“Nothing that will interfere with your studies, of course. Just a few measurements here and there, and in the absence of any dragon mannequins I’ll need you to model. Oh, and of course, I will need some input on the dress idea. Ooh, this is going to be so much fun.” Rarity giggled and clapped her hooves together

“Fun?” Smolder said.

“But of course. A new body type, a new dress design, imagine the possibilities! Just, ah.” Some of Rarity’s enthusiasm died as she bit her lip. “How familiar are you with the lesson on how when somepony offers to do you a favor, like making you a beautiful dress, you shouldn't be overly critical of something generously given to you?”

Chapter 7

Not everypony is destined for greatness. Some earth ponies never settle new lands and lay the foundations of future towns, there are unicorns out there who will not discover new spells or become magicians of great renown, and not every pegasus will become an aerial acrobat worthy of the Wonderbolts or wear the golden armor of the royal guard. And of course, with there being a limited quantity, not everypony can be chosen to bear the Elements of Harmony and go on to save Equestria numerous times. It’s not an all entirely comforting concept, one that many, with all their good intensions and lack of direction and foresight, try to shield the naive and innocent from with the empty promises that anything is achievable by any being while leaving the long list of caveats in the finest print possible. If all the world’s a stage, only a select few will be stars with actual lines to read while the rest play their roles as extras to fill the crowd in the background to be swiftly forgotten once they’ve made their exit.

That’s not to say, of course, that the rest of the population is unimportant. After all, for Equestria to function as it does each day it requires the efforts of thousands upon thousands of normal, everyday creatures who will never feel the weight of an empire’s fate on their shoulders or brave the interiors of Tartarus. Somepony needs to be there to tend the fields and harvest crops, monitor the weather factory’s production, make sure the trains arrive with minimal delays, keep the groceries and bakeries stocked, run the cashiers at Rich’s Barnyard Bargains while placating unruly customers, and of course ensure the safe and timely delivery of the mail through rain, sleet, snow, eternal night, or monster attack, and they very well couldn’t do that if they were all off saving Equestria.

Some members of the workforce need to remind themselves of that each morning before they can pull themselves out of bed, but the gray mare scheduled to carry today’s mail was not such a pony. She had no higher aspirations beyond the job she already secured and the friends she already made, perfectly content to spend her days in her peaceful little town, and though she took pride in her work on the days when she hadn’t dropped anything on anyone or crashed into anything, it was from the satisfaction in a job well done rather than any twisted sense of self-importance that a few of her more cynical colleagues shared after recognizing how vital their role was to pony society.

It was perhaps due to this air of contentment she carried everywhere she went along with her eternally sunny disposition that won the hearts and favor of Ponyville along with hundreds of unknowable, otherworldly spectators. Alternatively, it may have simply been how amusing the results of her clumsiness were, as demonstrated by her collusion with the School of Friendship’s entrance emblem and subsequent fall to the ground.

Quickly, the mare picked herself and dismissed the concerned crowd growing around her with a wave of her hoof and a series of assurances that she was fine, that that there was no need for a hospital visit. Those less familiar with her required additional promises that her eyes had always been like that and weren’t that way due to the crash before she was free to collect the scattered envelopes that had fallen from her bag. A few she found presented before her in the claw of Twilight Sparkle’s dragon assistant, which she gratefully accepted. She returned his smile and after thanking him for his help, took off. Spike shouted something after her, some form of salutations most likely, but she had a job to do and no time to spare for small talk.

“Huh. Guess there’s no mail for us today,” Spike said to himself. He shrugged and turned, ready to reenter the school when his stomach began to rumble. A mighty belch escaped his mouth along with streaks of green flame, and a sealed scroll dropped into his outstretched claw. He spent only a second staring at it before he tore away the bindings and revealed the scroll’s contents. His eyes darted from one end of scroll to the other, reading the words faster than he could actually process their meaning. Only a few choice words stuck with him, but their presence was enough to calm him for a second, less frantic and more comprehensive read of the message.

Spike put away the scroll with a relieved sigh and made his way back inside, continuing through the halls until he finally reached the door to the headmare’s office. He entered and looked around, needing a good couple of minutes to find the mares hidden within the forest of papers.

Rainbow Dash looked up, her face covered in ink smears. “Is it lunch time yet?” she grumbled. Several stacks of papers towered around her, and several more stray sheets lay scattered beneath her, giving the impression of a bird in a disorganized nest.

“Still early,” Spike answered, winning a loud groan from the pegasus. Carefully he maneuvered around the stacks of reports to the unicorn sitting at the desk in the room’s center. “How’s everything going?”

“It’s coming along, I suppose,” Starlight said. “Could be worse, though when Twilight gets back we really need to discuss this whole thesis grading system of hers. Does she really need all of us to read through and mark up each one before giving a final grade? I get being thorough and all, this being the graduates’s final assignment, but seriously, this is a bit excessive.”

“Can’t you, I don’t know, change it?” Rainbow called from a corner of the room. “You’re headmare now.”

“Temporary headmare,” Starlight corrected. “Letting classes out early is one thing, that’s fine and probably justifiable to Twilight, but going against the instructions Twilight left behind for us to follow that’ll determine the fate of our first graduating students’s final grade? Yeah, that I’m not too comfortable doing.”

As Rainbow sunk back with a groan, Spike looked around for a large hat, a blond mane, or an orange coat body, any sign of the mare that would have shamed such a dishonest act as going behind a trusted friend’s back had she been in the room like she was supposed to. “Where’s Applejack?” he asked.

“Went to grab a dictionary,” explained Starlight. “We couldn’t agree on the spelling of ‘synergy,’ and Rainbow Dash’s convinced it’s a made-up word.”

“Come on, it sounds like something Pinkie came up with.”

Spike spared a moment to think. “Yeah, it really does. I know it’s real word,” he added as Starlight‘s eyes narrowed at him. “But you have to admit, it’s a pretty silly sounding one.”

“It’s not that weird. I mean, sure, it’s not the first word I’d use when teamwork, unity, or collaboration all work in its place without making everything sound like a business presentation.” Starlight muttered the word in question under her breath a couple of more times, then shook her head. “Anyways, you get the mail? We’re still waiting for a response from Pinkie Pie’s expert and from the gala planning committee from Canterlot.”

“Just this from Twilight,” Spike held up the scroll from earlier.

Papers flew into the air as Rainbow shot toward Spike and the letter. The sudden motion caught the dragon off guard, and he would have tumbled into the stacks of papers behind him had it not been for Starlight’s magical hold on him. “What‘s it say?” Rainbow demanded, ignoring Starlight’s glare. “Finally, some action. She need us down in Tartarus with her kicking butt? Whatever she needs us to do, I’m in.”

Starlight skimmed through the letter and smirked. “Says here Twilight needs us here running the school and grading theses.”

The excitement burning in Rainbow’s eyes snuffed out. “Pony feathers.”

Starlight’s grin lost some of its smugness. “And also we‘re to manage the final exams without her if she isn’t back before the scheduled start time.”

“What? But the final exams aren’t until, like.” Rainbow’s mental calendar took a minute to find, and she spent a few additional minutes mapping out the distance between the current date and the date final exams were to begin. “Okay, so maybe those exams aren’t as far away as I figured, but that’s still a pretty long time for Twilight to be spending in Tartarus, and with Tirek of all creatures.”

“Discord’s with her too,” Spike interjected. “Don’t forget that.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “That’s right, Discord’s there too! Nopony should have to spend that much time with Discord. Look, I don’t care anymore about the map’s rules or whatever the Tree of Harmony thinks—“

“Did anyone else feel that?” Spike asked. “Huh, thought I felt the ground quake.”

“—I don’t care that I wasn’t chosen for this mission, we need to go support Twilight, and I’m not saying that just to get out of paperwork.”

Starlight shared a look with Spike before sighing and passing Twilight’s message to Rainbow Dash. “As much as I’d love to get out of grading friendship reports, we can’t exactly all run off after Twilight and leave the school unintended when there’s so much to do. Twilight’s doing fine, she said so herself. The mission’s just taking a little, er, well, a lot longer than usual, which, considering the location, the likely subject of the friendship problem, and who her partner is, shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. If Twilight needed us with her in Tartarus, she would have said so in the letter.”

“You sure this isn’t a trick?” Rainbow Dash said, tapping the scroll. “For all we know, Tirek could have sent this.”

“No way. I got it through D-mail. You know, when I send and receive letters through fire breath,” Spike elaborated after Rainbow and Starlight gave him a questioning stare, silently repeating the unfamiliar term. “It’s short for dragon mail, me and Twilight came up with it after we, never mind. Anyways, not many beings know about that spell, and Twilight and Princess Celestia are the only ones with a direct line to me.“

“In other words, this letter had to be from Twilight,” Starlight concluded. “That or Princess Celestia has a strange sense of humor.” She clapped her hooves together. “Now back to work.”

Rainbow Dash begrudgingly returned to her corner as Spike took a seat at the office’s opposite end and removed the first few pages from the nearest stack. The room became silent save for the scratches of pens against paper as they jotted down notes and pointed out areas of impressive writing or parts that left much to be desired, anything that would contribute to the thesis’s final score. Time chugged along, seconds, minutes, hours, Rainbow couldn’t tell. She squashed any urges to look up to check the clock out of fear of losing her place for the fifth time in the same paper. She began to fidget, her wings opening and folding in rhythm with her tapping hoof. The time Rainbow spent trying to study with Twilight for the Wonderbolts written exam was painless compared to this, and before she could wrangle her thoughts and return her focus to the very long, very wordy report before her, she began to consider the logistics of having Ocellus act out her thesis while the pegasus flew overhead.

A loud thud broken the silence and everyone’s concentration. Both Rainbow’s and Spike’s wings sprung out to their full length, scattering papers much to Starlight’s vocally expressed annoyance. “What now?” she groaned, catching what she could with her magic as all three turned to window behind her where the sound originated.

On the other side was the mail carrier waving to them and looking quite embarrassed. Starlight looked back at the clutter in the office, then back at the gray mare hovering outside. Her horn ignited, and a pink glow blanketed the papers. She pushed against one of the stacks on the headmare’s desk, and nodded in satisfaction when none of sheets budged before returning her gaze to the mail carrier. The window opened, and the three braced themselves, ready for a collision. When none came, Starlight, Spike, and Rainbow Dash opened their eyes and found several envelopes at their feet. The mare had flown off.

“So, mail’s here,” Starlight stated, having little else to say besides the obvious. Spike and Rainbow, having even less to contribute, simply nodded. Starlight picked up the letters and looked for space on the desk. Seeing none, she looked for space on the floor. Seeing none, Starlight sighed. “How about a short break? Let’s meet back here in—“

Rainbow Dash was gone, leaving Starlight’s mane disheveled, but the papers stayed in place, held down by the unicorn’s spell. “—ten minutes,” Starlight finished lamely. “Come on Spike, let’s get through these quickly.” They stepped out and spread the letters out before them. “Alright, what’ve we got?”

“Well, these two are bills,” Spike observed, pointing.

“Ah. Leave those for Twilight.”

“Right. Oh hey, an ad. Add six inches to your horn with six easy payments.”

“Trash.”

Flames turned the offending stationery to ash. “That just leaves these two,” Spike said, holding the letters up to read the addresses of their senders. “This one’s from Canterlot. Maybe it’s from that planning committee.”

“Here’s hoping,” Starlight said as she ripped open the envelope and pulled out its contents. “To the esteemed representative of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship, we the members of the Grand Galloping Gala planning committee are more than happy to, okay, that’s a good start. Yeah, okay. Hmm.”

“And I think this one’s from Manehattan,” Spike noted of the final letter. “It’s addressed to you. Oh, it’s from Trixie.”

“Trixie?” Starlight looked up. “Right, she’s on tour. I figured she’d have left Manehattan by now. Nice of her to send a postcard for once.” She began to return to the letter from the planning committee, only to stop and turn back to the one from Trixie. “Maybe I should, I mean, it’s been some time since I last heard from Trixie in a while, maybe the prom can wait.” Starlight bit her bottom lip. “No, the entire graduating class is counting on this event, and besides, I’m already halfway through the committee’s response.”

“What if I read Trixie’s message out loud while you finish with the committee’s?”

Starlight stopped pacing to consider Spike’s suggestion. “Yeah, I guess that’ll work,” she decided. She settled back down with her letter and returned to where she had left off as Spike opened the one from Trixie. Instead of a postcard, two folded sheets of paper fell into Spike’s claws.

“Go ahead,” Starlight prompted, absently waving with her view obscured by her own sheet. “I’m listening.”

Spike’s mouth opened, but he thought better of it and said nothing as he unfolded the first piece of paper. “Salutations from the Great and Powerful Trixie to her most wonderful assistant and friend, the Pretty Okay Starlight Glimmer,” he read, rolling his eyes at the opening line. “Manehattan is a wonderful place. The ponies here love a good show, so naturally they love me. There’s so many sights to see and so much to do in this city, but I must admit I’ve gotten a bit lonely without somepony to share everything with. I only have two complaints with Manehattan. One, the lack of a true friend. While I haven’t forgot how you tried to trade off my wagon the last time we traveled together, there have been many times when I wished you were right beside me. Maybe then you’d have stopped me from biting that officer.”

Starlight’s head jerked up. “What?”

“And two, this city has the most asinine, tyrannical, backwards, unrealistic, completely and utterly stupid parking laws in existence, and the police force isn’t much smarter.” Spike winced. “And I’m no longer comfortable reading this out loud.” He passed the letter to Starlight who whistled once she reached where Spike had left off.

“Yikes, that is colorful. Okay, rant rant rant, ah okay.” Starlight smiled as she continued the letter. “Don’t worry, everything is now under control. Your friend, the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“There’s more on the back,” Spike said, pointing.

“PS.” Starlight’s grin vanished. “I’m in jail, need your help. Didn’t want to open with that. Get here ASAP. Trixie. PPS, just thought of third complaint, lodging’s super expensive and not worth the price. This cell is especially bad. Oh, sweet Celestia,” Starlight groaned as she pressed her hoof into her face. “This could not get worse.”

Spike quickly read through the second letter. “This one’s from the public defender’s office,” Spike declared. “I think it’s saying Trixie is naming you as her representative in court. There’s something here about everypony else not being able to stand her.”

The letter flew out of Spike’s claws. Starlight stared at the words inked on it in disbelief. “She can’t be serious. Of course she’s serious. And of course she had to scare off every local defense attorney. When’s her hearing?” She scanned the document for a date, and when she found it, her eyes grew wide. “Okay, Spike? You’re now in charge.”

Starlight had nearly gotten to the end of the hall before Spike completely registered what she had said. Half a minute later, Spike was at Starlight’s side, half running, half flying to keep pace. “Wait, hold on, what do you mean?”

“You read the letter. Trixie needs my help,” Starlight said through gritted teeth. “As much as she deserves it, honestly, who attacks a police officer then tries to incite a riot over a parking ticket? Trixie, that’s who, and her weird protective obsession with her wagon. And then she gets mad at the ponies trying to help her?” Starlight threw up her head groaned, attracting the attention and stares of those who weren’t already staring. “Trixie’s hearing is in a few days. I need to get to Manehattan, and I need to go now. As soon as I pack some law books, I’m gone.”

“Okay, but back there you said I’m now in charge. What do you mean, I’m in charge?”

“I mean, you, Spike the Dragon, are in charge,” Starlight said. “From the moment I leave to the moment either Twilight or I get back, you’re headdragon. You know all of Twilight’s instructions, how the school runs. Just keep doing what we’ve been doing, and you’ll be fine. Oh, and here.”

Stationery suddenly appeared and wrapped itself over Spike’s face, forcing the dragon to stop and peel it off. “The date and time the gala planning committee will be here is in there,” Starlight called out as she grew further away. “Not negotiable so make some time in your schedule. Bring Pinkie when you meet them. Let the girls know where I’m going.”

“Wait!” Spike shouted after her, but Starlight had already disappeared around the corner. He gulped. “Okay Spike, you’re headdragon. Just another position of power and authority you’re not exactly qualified for. It won’t be like last time, it won’t be like last time. It—“ Spike took in a deep breath and released. “It won’t be like last time,” he said noticeably more calmly. “It’s just the head of a school, no powers to abuse, and I’ve got my friends backing me up. It’ll be fine, just have to keep doing what we’ve been doing. The only thing new is meeting with that planning committee from Canterlot on...”

He glanced down at the message, quickly scanning for a date. His body stiffened once he found it, making it difficult to continue those calming breathing exercises. His claws dug into the paper, threatening to puncture through. Spike reread the line, desperately hoping that he had just misread the date. No, but perhaps it would change if he reread it a third time. A fourth time. A fifth time.

“Well howdy Spike.” Applejack’s appearance and greeting shook the dragon out of his stupor. With her was a large dictionary. “Say, you know what’s with Starlight? Just bumped into her on the way out of the library. She was running ‘round like she was being chased by a stampede. Didn’t even get a chance to say nothing before she grabbed a bunch of heavy-looking books and teleported to who knows where.”

“She’s going to Manehattan to get Trixie out of jail. Look, it’s not important, have you seen Rarity?”

“Should be in her class holding office hours,” Applejack said. “Hold on, what was that about Trixie?”

“Okay, thanks!” came Spike’s reply from a distance that was rapidly growing as the dragon ran off in the path Applejack had directed him.

Chapter 9

Try as they might to avoid it, children will often inherit the traits of their parents. For many, this simply involves having a similar appearance to one or both parents, hence common phrases involving the acquisition of a father’s nose or a mother’s eyes. In these cases, neither party has much sway over the inheritance process outside of morally questionable magic and genetic modification along with a healthy interest in playing god. For less physical traits such as personality, interests and hobbies, habits, and moral stances, the parent has a little more control as they direct how the child will spend their formative years. Thus, we have blond farmers begetting blond farmers, gold diggers producing spoiled brats who think money can buy anything, and hundreds of individuals each year who will awake to their reflection and weep as they realize they’ve become their father or mother.

Now children rebel, it’s what they do, and it isn’t rare to find those who have rejected what their parents tried to pass on, intentionally or otherwise. Sometimes after enough pushing a child will push back, like choosing their father’s most hated fruit over his favorite, and such differences can test the strength of any familial bonds. Sometimes fate just has different plans, and that rock farmer’s daughter just doesn’t have the dour attitude necessary for the family business. And sometimes it’s just a matter of not liking the mane color you received from your father and buying some mane dye.

Who could say which parent gave Spike his purple scales? Who could say which parent gave Spike his green eyes and namesakes? Spike’d be lying if he said the lack of that knowledge didn’t bother him at times, but in the end he’d be fine because he knew exactly which parent gave him his quick wit, his appreciation for literature, which comic books certainly counted for, his occasionally misplaced confidence in his plans, and his rather extreme tendency to pace when stressed.

Had she been any other pony, Pinkie Pie might have been impressed by the depth of the groove Spike managed to wear into the hard paved walkway in front of the school’s entrance, but for her the novelty had long since died. She yawned and rolled onto her back. “When are those ponies going to get here?” she groaned.

The upside down dragon in front of her stopped. “Soon, I hope. They’re already half an hour late,” Spike said. “Any word from that party expert of yours?”

“Nope. Guess they couldn’t make it.”

“Hm.” Spike continued his pacing. Every third step, he would look up at the sky and frown. “Sun’s going down,” he finally announced.

“You sure? It’s going up for me.” Pinkie Pie popped back onto her hooves. “No wait, never mind. So.” She turned to Spike and stared for a good long minute. “I noticed you’re wearing a suit. Was there a change in this meeting’s dress code nopony told me about?”

“What? Oh, this?” Spike tried to scoff nonchalantly. It ended up being more of a sputter. “It’s, uh, just something I found while cleaning out my, you know, my closet and figured, eh, why not? So, what do you think?” Spike rubbed his knuckles against his chest as he leaned back against an imaginary wall. “Not too shabby, right?”

Pinkie shrugged. “Eh, it’s alright I guess. A little weird actually. I mean, I’m no clothing expert like Rarity, but it kind of looks like you’re going on a date or something. Hey, do you think we should’ve met them at the train station?”

“I thought about it,” Spike said, “but letter did say they’d meet us at the school, and it’s probably safer if we just follow their instructions. You know how uptight ponies from Canterlot can get.”

“But that’s just it. These are Canterlot ponies. What if telling us they’d meet us here is some aggressively passive way of saying they’re expecting us to pick them up at the station?”

“That’s, that’s silly. I mean, there’s no way. That’s a bit too much even for Canterlot. I think.” Spike looked back at the letter from the planning committee he was holding. “Maybe I should check the station, just in case,” he said. He bent his knees and spread out his wings, giving them a quick experimental flap to ready himself for takeoff.

“No wait, maybe that’s them,” Pinkie declared, pointing out to a trio of figures slowly approaching.

The distance and poor lighting made it difficult to see any features in detail, and all Spike could determine at this point were that they were all ponies. “You think so?” he whispered. “From what I can tell, they could be students or tourists or even ponies from town. Wait, is your Pinkie Sense going off?”

Pinkie nodded. “Flaring nostrils,” she said, pointing at her snout. “That means super judgmental ponies who think they’re better than you are approaching. That or I’ve got acute upper respiratory blockage. Hm, nah, definitely the first one.“

“Judgmental ponies that think they’re better than us, huh?” Spike sighed and tried to smooth out any wrinkles he couldn’t see. “Well, I guess that could describe the types of ponies who’d organize something as horrible as the Grand Galloping Gala. Thanks again for agreeing to meet them with me, by the way.”

“Aw, there’s no way I’d leave you all alone with those ponies,” Pinkie Pie assured. She wrapped her forelegs over Spike’s shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. “You might crack under pressure and accept and use all their advice without questioning any of it and then ruin prom for every creature by turning it into just another boring old gala.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Spike said, rolling his eyes as he shook Pinkie off.

The mare pounced right back onto her feet seconds after hitting the ground. “I said might. I mean, you’ve got to admit, you’re kind of a pushover when it comes to ponies telling you what to do. Ooh, look, here they are.”

At last their visitors had arrived, only a couple of meters away. Three figures shaped like ponies became three unicorns, two mares and a stallion. The stallion and one of the mares wore dark gray suits with a white shirt underneath and a tie around the collar fastened in such a complex and sophisticated knot that left Spike tugging at his own. The other mare, some several years older than her colleagues if the lines on her face and the gray in her mane were of any indication, was adorn in a dull pink blouse. Both mares wore their manes in a tight no-nonsense bun, and their lips were pressed just as tightly. The stallion was no less intimidating, the gleam from his glasses, an impressive feat in itself considering the only light source was a small lantern hanging over the doorway, leaving his eyes hidden from view.

Spike stepped forward, but Pinkie Pie was swifter. “Welcome to Princess Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship!” she greeted, grabbing and forcefully shaking hooves. “You must be the Grand Galloping Gala planning committee. Wow, I thought there’d be more of you. I mean, I figured a party as big as the Grand Galloping Gala would need like, way more than three ponies to organize.”

“Quite,” the stallion said. He checked the hoof Pinkie had grabbed, or at least Spike thought he was checking it, it was hard to tell with his glasses gleaming as they were. “Our most sincere apologies for the tardiness, but we were under the impression that a school directed by a princess would have had the foresight to provide an escort to meet us at the station and lead us here.”

Spike and Pinkie Pie drew in a short breath together and winced as the older mare sniffed and said, “I see the princess herself is not among us.”

This time, thankfully, Spike was quicker. “Yes, well, Princess Twilight Sparkle is currently on royal princess business that does not pertain to the school’s operations and is currently not available,” Spike said, placing a claw over Pinkie’s mouth as he did his best to smile.

“Ah yes, that would explain why a Starlight Glimmer had sent and signed that request as the acting headmare,” said the mare in the suit. “And is this Ms. Glimmer?” She gestured to Pinkie Pie.

“Oh, no. This is Pinkie Pie, a teacher and our, um, event planner. I’m afraid Starlight is also out of town. She, uh, you see, uh.” Spike bit back a curse as he pulled out a set of cards with notes on them. He began to rapidly sift through them, shuffling those in front to the back. “Ah. Okay.” The cards disappeared. “I’m afraid Acting Headmare Starlight Glimmer is unable to join us tonight as an urgent matter from out of town required her attention.” Spike placed his claws behind his back and tried to stand a little straighter. “Until the time of her or the princess’s return, I, Spike the Dragon, have been assigned the responsibilities and duties of the acting head of the School of Friendship, and it is my pleasure to have you here to help us with our event.”

Brows were raised. “Excuse us,” the younger mare said. The group stepped out of Spike and Pinkie’s earshot and began to whisper among themselves. The sole dragon and earth pony present shared a look and a shrug before turning back to their visitors. The whispers were growing louder, more heated, and though no words could be heard it was obvious that there was bickering and disagreements being made.

And then, silence. The ponies turned back to Spike and Pinkie and approached. “Well, this is all quite suspect,” the stallion stated, finally showing his eyes as he wiped his lens with a embroidered handkerchief. “We agreed to assist with this gala—“

“Prom.”

The stallion paused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Spike interjected, again covering Pinkie’s mouth with a claw. “My colleague, she was just, um, clearing her throat. Anyways, you were saying something about agreeing to help us?”

“When the committee agreed to lend its expertise, it did so under the impression that we would be working with either the princess or the acting headmare who had sent the request,” the mare in the blouse said, frowning. It amazed Spike how despite being a good head shorter she still managed to successfully look down on him. “You however are neither, and that complicates things.”

Spike rubbed the back of his head. “I, suppose I can’t really argue with the first point. But?” he prompted, motioning to the younger mare to conclude.

“Oh, there is no but,” she said tersely. “We’re done here, but it wouldn’t be polite to leave without exchanging salutations. So, farewell.”

”Whoa, whoa!” Spike ran past the three and stood in their path. “You can’t leave. You said you’d help us.”

“That agreement was with the acting headmare, Starlight Glimmer,” the older mare said with a sniff, “who, as we can all see, couldn’t even be bothered to keep our meeting.”

“Hey, it’s not her fault the Manehattan legal system perpetuates the oppression of somewhat hard working, not-so-honest, two-bit show magicians,” Pinkie Pie protested. “And besides, that agreement was made on behalf of the School of Friendship.”

“And, and Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Spike added, an idea slowly taking form in his mind. “Yeah, you know, Princess Twilight Sparkle, the mare who runs the School of Friendship and planned this entire event until there, um, was that royal emergency. Yep, and she was really looking forward to it. You’re not really going to ruin this for her, the Princess of Friendship, over some technicalities about who sent what or what said what or whatever, are you?”

The three Canterlot ponies began to exchange looks. A predatory grin creep across Spike’s face as he pounced for the kill. “I mean, what would Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, no, Canterlot, no, all of Equestria think of the Grand Galloping Gala if they learned that the planning committee decided to back out of helping the Princess of Friendship?”

“Oh my gosh!” Pinkie sudden zipped forward and grabbed the stallion by his cheeks, knocking off his glasses. “That would ruin the Grand Galloping Gala’s reputation! What if ponies stop going or Princess Celestia decides not to host it any more?” She cut her own dramatic gasp short and dropped the stallion. “Meh, no huge loss.”

The older mare grew more and more purple as she glared at Spike and Pinkie. Her colleagues, however, appeared more nervous than angered. The two sighed, and as the stallion got back up and dusted himself off, the mare said, “Well, I suppose we could take a quick look and provide a little advice, as a favor to the princess.”

“Hey, that’s all we ask.” Spike motioned them forward toward the school’s entrance. “After you.” Safely behind their visitors, Spike and Pinkie shared a quick but satisfying claw-to-hoof bump before following closely behind, then taking the lead once inside.

“Quite a bit of room,” the stallion noted as they passed through the lobby and made their way through one of the hallways. “Yes, I can see quite an impressive opening ceremony back there.“

“Perhaps, but this hall is much too long,” the suited mare said. “The distance between the gala entrance and the gala proper is imperative. It mustn’t be too long or too short, and already this is on the long side. Is there a shorter path to the ballroom?”

“Ballroom, like the gym?” Pinkie asked. “I thought we were having everything out in the courtyard.”

“The gala is to take place outside?” the younger mare said. “How, novel I suppose.”

“Is it?” Spike asked. “Some of the Grand Galloping Gala happens in the castle’s gated garden.”

“Yes, some, but an entire gala?” The older mare shook her head. “What if it rains? Did any of you even consider that possibility?”

“Um, ponies control the weather,” Spike pointed out. “I really don’t think rain’ll be an issue.”

“Hmph. Lose that cocky attitude, Mr. the Dragon. That’s my first piece of advice,” the older mare grunted, her eyes narrowing. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from my years of planning galas, it’s that anything can happen.” She sighed and seemed to stare blankly at something in the far distance. “You can plan and plan and plan, and what ruins the whole night is the thing you never even thought about.”

“If you say so. Well, here we are,” Spike said, gesturing as they all stepped out into the courtyard.

The stallion looked around. “This, is it?”

“Well, kind of?” said Spike. He shot a nervous glance at Pinkie Pie who could only shrug in reply. “Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong?” the stallion repeated. “Where do I begin? You only have a few streamers on the walls and in the trees as decorations, there’s only one table for beverages with no hors d’oeuvres in sight, and that punch bowl doesn’t even have anything in it, I see a phonograph where a band should be, the only lights are coming from the surrounding buildings, it’s just, I don’t, this is, I can hardly speak. How could you think this courtyard was even close to being ready for a gala?”

“Oh, the lights! Be right back.” Pinkie Pie ran off, and seconds later several colored light flashed from the trees and along the walls.

The younger mare visibly cringed. “Are those Hearth’s Warming lights?”

“Yep,” answered Pinkie who had returned without anyone noticing. “Those never go out of season.”

“It’s, uh, it’s a work in progress.” Spike chuckled nervously. “I mean, obviously. It’s just to get an idea of how everything show look, just an outline, that sort of thing. The real deal will have two, no, three tables with appetizers.” The three from Canterlot raised their brows. “Four?”

The oldest of the group sighed. “Let’s start with the largest issue at hoof. You cannot have a gala out here. Look at all these water hazards.” The mare pointed to the small moat surrounding the fountain in the center of the courtyard. “And then there’s all this grass. Where were you expecting ponies to dance?”

“On the, grass? I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Spike quickly added as the older mare turned pale and appeared close to fainting. “Okay, I guess we can have the dancing in the main building over there, and here in the courtyard creatures can relax and eat and stuff. Like at the Grand Galloping Gala.” He turned to Pinkie, then to the members of the planning committee. “How does that sound?”

“A party that takes place outside and inside, eh?” Pinkie scratched her chin. “That sounds crazy enough to work.”

“I suppose it is an adequate solution,” the younger mare allowed. “Now, on to the topic of refreshments. Would it be safe to assume based on the presence of that table with the empty punch bowl that you hadn’t thought to acquire a wait staff?”

“Well, we did ask the cafeteria staff if they could help, but that night‘s their monthly lunch ladies’s night, and even if it wasn’t I don’t think we could’ve convinced many of them to stand around all night serving drinks and food in a suit,” Spike explained. “Also, aren’t those waiter suits expensive? I don’t think we have the budget to cover the entire staff.”

“Hm, so you were going to leave your guests to serve themselves, is that correct?” the younger mare asked.

“Y-yes?”

The mare’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, but?”

“But, uh, maybe.” Spike turned to Pinkie with a silent plea on his features.

“Oh, I know, Fluttershy could ask some of her animal friends to act as waiters, like with Smokey and his family.”

“Interesting. And this Smokey is what exactly?” the older mare asked. “Sure nothing danger like bear.”

“Nope. A raccoon,” Pinkie answered with a grin.

The stallion managed to catch the fainting older mare before she hit the ground. “A, a raccoon,” the still standing mare repeated. “Ah, well, if there’s no alternative, perhaps your guests can be trusted to serve themselves. Now, what do you plan to have on the menu?”

“Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that. Party food here, party food there.”

The mare in the suit frowned at Pinkie’s answer. She turned to Spike. “Specify.”

Spike pulled out a scroll and let it unravel. “For food, we have from the local bakery Sugarcube Corner cupcakes, chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry flavored, pumpkin pies, pecan pies, blueberry pies, peach pies, key lime pie, custard tarts, and fruit tarts. The Apple family’s providing some apple pies, candied apples, apple turnovers, and fritters, and maybe a barrel of cider if they can spare it. We’ve also got potato chips with bean dip and salsa, fries, and nachos, and we also have recipes for Griffonstone scones, kelp fritters from Mount Aris, and miniature imitation Yakyakistan vanilla cakes.”

“I’m sorry, nachos?” the mare in the suit inquired.

“You know. Tortilla chips with melted cheese, jalapeños, and onions and stuff on top,” Spike said. “Nachos.”

“Doesn’t it all sound delicious?” Pinkie smiled as her eyes grew misty and wistful. “Mmm, nacho cupcakes,” she said, salivating.

The suited stallion and mare both recoiled as drool leaked from Pinkie’s lips and soaked into the ground. The older mare, still recovering from her earlier fainting spell, was blissfully ignorant. “It sounds quite messy,” the stallion stated. “Nearly everything you just listed could leave crumbs or stains on somepony’s attire. May I?” He motioned to the scroll in Spike’s claw, then, once the list was safely in his magical grasp, he brought out an expensive looking fountain pen.

“Nothing with excessive frosting,” he said, crossing out items with a wild flourish. “And nothing that’s leave many crumbs. Nothing with too much juice of course, those leave the worst sort of stains, which of course means no fruit punch.” There was an excessive number of lines being drawn. “I’d recommend lemon and cucumber water or ice tea. Nothing oily either. No dips, no sauces. There you are, that should cover it.”

Spike quickly scanned through the revised list. “That just leaves the tarts.”

“Allow me.” The suited mare took hold of the list and pulled out her own elaborate pen. “Here are some appetizers you’ll find far more suitable for a gala.”

Again the list returned to Spike, and again he read through the changes. Pinkie leaned over his shoulder and read along. “What’s a canapé? Is that even food?”

“We’ll look it up later,” Spike whispered back. To the suited ponies before him he gave a smile, hoping it looked less forced than it felt, and said, “Thank you. This will be so much help. We’ll definitely be sure to take everything here in consideration when we set up the real thing. Was there anything else—“

“Entertainment! Music!” the older mare shrieked, suddenly up on her hooves. “I hear nothing but the silence of disappointment when I should be hearing the dulcet melodies of the greatest generation of composers played by the finest performers still of this world!“

“Well, okay. Let’s see.” Spike flipped through the stack of records beside the record player. “We’ve got, uh, a collection of the top greatest one-hit wonders from the last decade, a couple of old Sapphire Shore albums, some Hearth’s Warming carols, the Coloratura acoustic cover album—“

“Ooh, Ooh, do we have the pony pokey?” Pinkie Pie exclaimed.

“Six different versions. Classic, country cover, punk rock cover, big band, and dance party remix.”

“Would it be silly to ask if you had any symphonies or or at the very least a concerto?” the younger mare asked. “I’d even settle for something along those lines made in the past century.”

“Or perhaps a far better solution, why not arrange to have actual live musicians at the gala?” the stallion offered. “I’m certain any orchestral group worth their string and brass would know the classical classics one would expect to hear at such an event. Ponyville does have its own local orchestral group, does it not? Even a quartet would suffice.”

“Well, we’ve got a cellist, and her roommate is a DJ,” answered Pinkie Pie. “They sometimes do weddings and surprise fashion shows, but they told us they were both pretty busy this month when we asked.”

“Make it happen,” the older mare interjected sternly, emphasizing with a wave of her wrinkled hoof right under Spike’s nose. “You cannot, I repeat, cannot put on a gala without live music. If word got out that Princess Twilight Sparkle was having a gala at this school and was using a phonograph and records in the place of live musicians, both her reputation and the school’s would be destroyed. And if ponies somehow discovered that the Grand Galloping Gala’s planning committee was involved, never mind how involved, why, the very name of the Grand Galloping Gala could be tarnished. I do not care how you go about it, you hire that cellist and whatever that dee jay is. Do I make myself clear?”

Spike took a step back and swallowed. “Make it happen, got it.”

“Very good.” The older mare settled back down, the intensity in her eyes having burned itself out, leaving the mare momentarily exhausted. “Now,” she huffed as her breath slowly returned, “I believe that covers entertainment.”

“Wait, what about the games?” Pinkie Pie jumped in. “I mean, what would you even call a party without piñatas or pin the tail on the pony?”

“A gala,” was the sole stallion’s short response.

Pinkie raised her hoof and opened her mouth, but the protest she had planned never made it out of her throat. Instead, she sighed. “You know, you’re so right, I can’t even be mad.” Then, with her lips quivering and eyes welling, she turned to Spike.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work something out,” he assured Pinkie quietly. To their guests from Canterlot, Spike more audibly said, “So, I guess that covers entertainment and stuff. We got through location, got through refreshments and drinks. Sounds like that’s everything.” He glanced up toward the sky and winced. The sun has long since retired, leaving behind a blank dark blue canvas. The moon was slowly taking its position, accompanied by the first few bright stars. “Wow, it’s late. Why don’t I show you all to your rooms? Your letter mentioned something about returning to Canterlot first thing in the morning, right?”

“That is correct,” the mare in the suit confirmed. “The Grand Galloping Gala will be upon us in a few short months after all, and we will be needed back at Canterlot. I do hope you’ll come to appreciate how precious the time our committee has sacrificed here has been.”

“Oh definitely,” Spike said, steering everypony present back inside. “Totally, one hundred percent, thanks for everything. Now—“

“Wait! Decorations!” The mare in the blouse stopped and turned back toward the courtyard, her colleagues following closely behind. “We haven’t gone over the decorations.”

“Yes, yes, we mustn’t overlook presentation,” said the mare in the suit. She approached one of the dressed up trees. “Is this, paper?” she asked, lifting an end of a bright yellow streamer wrapped around the tree’s branches, the light of her magic faint and dim and dull compared to the dozens of little lights among the leaves. “Hm. Something of higher quality would have been preferable, but it looks at the very least, passable. From a distance.”

“Agreed,” the stallion said as he made his way to the younger mare’s side. “The colors all work well, everything’s in a relatively complementary location, it’s all done surprisingly well. I have to say, whoever was in charge of decorating here did quite an impressive job in spite of what they had to work with.”

“So it’s good?” Spike prompted.

“It’s passable. Adequate. The quality of the decorations leaves much to be desired, it gives off this feeling of cheapness,” the stallion explained. “The untrained eye might not be able to tell a difference, so if that’s what you’re aiming for, by all means continue forward. Just be sure to replicate what was done out here inside where the gala proper will take place.” The stallion pointed back at the main building. “Get the same pony who was in charge of decorations here for that.”

“Alrighty, you want me to go back and grab my party cannon and—“

“Why don’t we finish decorating tomorrow,” Spike interrupted, stopping Pinkie with a claw on her shoulder. “I mean, it’s already so late, and we’ve already done so much. Now, decorations, was there anything else—“

“The fountain needs something,” the mare in the blouse suddenly said. The others watched her circle around the structure, examining it from different angles. “Not streamers, those won’t be waterproof. A figurehead at the top perhaps, hm, no, I doubt something like that could be acquired around here on such short notice.“

“Perhaps they could organize an arrangement of colored lanterns under the water to give create a sort of light and water show,” the younger mare suggested.

“Perhaps,” the older mare said as she rubbed her chin in thought. “Well, regardless, something must be done with this fountain. And speaking of lights, that reminds me.” She turned to the strings of light weaved into the branches of trees and attached to the sides of walls. “I’m not certain how I feel about the use of these Hearth’s Warming lights.”

“Is it the color?” Pinkie Pie inquired. “Because we’ve got your traditional greens and reds too.”

“No, no, the color is fine,” the older mare assured. “It looks, well, I’ll admit it’s a tad less tacky than I initially thought when taking all of your decorations into account. They do contribute to that feeling of cheapness my colleague had mentioned, but I suppose it works with everything else.” She frowned. “There’s just a matter of visibility.”

“Visibility?” Spike echoed as the younger mare and the stallion ah’d and nodded.

“Yes, visibility,” the older mare said. “The light out here must be bright enough so that your guests can see as they move about without ruining the evening atmosphere. Your lights appear to be doing a sufficient job at the moment, but it is still rather early in the evening. I imagine this gala of yours will continue on until a late hour.”

“All night if we can help it,” Pinkie Pie declared proudly. “Or at least until the noise complaints start coming in.”

“And so who can say how this courtyard will appear at that later hour?” the older mare presented.

“So should we hang up more lights?” Spike asked. “Set up some lanterns?”

The older mare shook her head. “It’s not a simple matter of adding more lights. Too many lights can detract from the night ambience, and you must consider whether your arrangement works with the natural lights of the moon and stars. That would mean, however, we would have to wait for night to truly be upon us before we could give a final assessment.”

“Okay. Waiting. Right.” Spike’s claws nervously wrapped and wrung around each other. “So, uh, how long do you think we’ll have to wait.”

“Peak conditions would be around midnight,” the older mare said as her committee associates nodded their confirmation.

“Midnight?” Spike said, his eyes wide and his voice slightly hoarse as his mouth became dry. “You mean we have to stay here until midnight?”

“If you wish for the perfect presentation, well, as close to perfect as you can with what you have to work with, then yes,” said the younger mare. She frowned. “That is what we assumed Princess Twilight’s School of Friendship would want, would it not?”

“Well, I, I guess,” Spike admitted. “It’s just, midnight’s not for a while, and I’ve got a, I mean, I was just hoping, maybe, we could take a little break first? Like, just a couple of hours?”

“If it is necessary,” the stallion permitted with an annoyed sigh. “Excuse me, I tend to forget that those inexperienced in the gala business lack our constitution when it comes to event planning.”

“Great!” Spike exclaimed. He lowered the fist he punched the air with as the others, even Pinkie Pie, stared with judgmental eyes and raised brows. “Because I, uh, need to step out right quick. If you’ve got any questions, Pinkie’ll be right here. See you in a bit.”

“Wait!” Pinkie Pie grabbed hold of the dragon just as he began to flee. “Where are you going? You can’t leave me alone with these ponies. They’re like, the worst parts of the Grand Galloping Gala all wrapped up nicely in Hearth’s Warming wax paper, all stuffy and fun-hating and stuff.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spike whispered back. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve got something really, really important to do first.”

“More important than the prom?”

“Well, yeah.”

Pinkie Pie’s gasp rang through the entire courtyard.

“Look, I’m already super late, I think. Just think of it as a friend-making challenge. Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

Spike freed himself from Pinkie’s grasp and hurried away, breaking every rule in both Twilight’s and the EEA’s book on running in the halls. Little Twilights danced in his head singing a little song with a single word for lyrics, a dark, accursed word: tardy. “It’s fine,” he muttered as he tried to banish the Twilights. “Just running a little late. Rarity’ll understand, it’ll be fine.”

The front entrance flung open as Spike pushed through, nearly tripping down the steps in his rush toward town. His limbs struggled against the constrains of his attire that grew dirtier with each step against the dusty road. Spike’s appearance only worsened once he took flight, the suit clearly not meant for the wing beats and winds that came with such intensive and panicked flying. Guided by the lights of the buildings, Spike made his way through Ponyville.

The town’s auditorium, to his overwhelming relief, soon came into view, and he readied himself for a landing that came and ended more abruptly than Spike had planned. Slowly, he climbed out of the small crater he made.

“You alright, sir?” the uniformed stallion stationed at the entrance called from his stand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Spike assured, dusting himself off. “Just fine. Um.” He reached into his pockets, turning them inside out until his claws found a small red ticket in the last one. “Here,” he said, all but throwing the ticket at the auditorium’s entrance vendor. “For the Method Mares’s show. Have you seen Rarity? Is she already inside? I’m not too late, am I?”

The stallion drew in a quick breath through the thin lines separating his teeth. “Ooh, actually—“

The entrance gates flung open, and a flood of ponies gushed out. “What a show,” Spike heard them say excitedly. Dozens of compliments and critiques followed from every direction for just about every aspect, from the acting and actors to the writing to the props and visuals.

Every mention of the costumes drew Spike’s attention toward the source, half-hoping half-dreading to spot a familiar mane style or color, a perfect alabaster coat, or a stunningly fashionable gown. Slowly, he forced himself through the crush. “Rarity?” he called out nervously, ignoring the odd stares he received from the ponies he pushed past.

He eventually made it to the end of the crowd and reached the auditorium’s interior. Only a couple of theater workers cleaning the bleachers of discarded snack wraps and pamphlets and a small team of ponies on stage tearing down the backdrop were present. With little else to see and no Rarity in sight, Spike turned around, the previous energy he had displayed absent, replaced by an air of dejection. The crowd outside had dispersed, the ponies gone. Even the vendor had gone home, leaving a closed sign hung over the glass of his stand.

Too drained to even sigh, Spike sat himself on the street’s edge and let his head fall limply into his open claws. Slowly, those claws closed into fists in an effort to fight back tears just as a certain white unicorn dressed in purple arrived some distance away.

Rarity took a hesitant step toward the shaking dragon but could go no further. Reluctantly, she retracted her hoof, and with her own eyes welling and her heart heavy, she ran home.

Chapter 10

Like all living things, the Tree of Harmony changed as it grew, and as it had grown, so had its abilities, from just being a provider of the Elements of Harmony with little control over or means to direct their use to being capable of constructing large structures out of nowhere and sending out emissaries throughout the lands to spread its ideals, thus furthering its nefarious agenda of making the world a friendlier place. Some decades from now, the Tree of Harmony’s abilities will expand to include appearing in court to sue a less than reputable film production studio for intellectual property theft of its life story. A hundred years from then the Tree of Harmony will be the first sapient plant to run for mayor of Ponyville and lose. And a thousand or so years later, the Tree of Harmony will have bought all of the surrounding property around Discord’s home and built a bunch of condos and shopping centers that will attract young families and lead to the neighborhood’s gentrification as revenge for the whole Plunderseed incident.

Well, possibly. There was much growing and changing that mystic tree had yet to experience, and one could only speculate what new abilities it would develop during that time. For now, however, the Tree of Harmony was perfectly content to order their agents of friendship about Equestria, eviscerate any mocking imitations of the Element of Harmony bearers brought about by abominable magic, and test the wavering faith of struggling students of friendship by bringing their worst fears and torments to life.

Gallus was starting to feel nostalgic toward the dark, cramped, claustrophobic chamber the Tree of Harmony had tested him in long before the third and final ten minute break period came to a close and the entire graduating class was marched back into the classroom for the last hour of the final written exam. His dominate talon ached from all the writing, his hindquarters were sore from all the sitting, his eyes were beginning to water from all the reading, and his brain became fatigued from all the thinking, and the stress that came with the possibility of failing did not help matters.

If there was anything Princess Twilight Sparkle managed to instill in her students besides the ins and outs of friendship, it was her fear of failure.

“Ten minutes,” called Applejack near the front of the classroom. “Y’all have ten minutes left.”

At least it was finally almost over, Gallus noted with a sigh of relief. Having reached the very last question on the back of the very last page, Gallus flipped through his packet, going back to the questions he had skipped in favor of the easier and shorter ones and reviewing the answers he felt less confident about, changing a few words here before changing them back and adding a few extra details there just to be sure. It honestly surprised him just how much he had been able to retain from all those study sessions and how much of that retained information he could cram in that small blank area set aside for answers.

“Alright, that’s it. Time’s up!” Applejack exclaimed. “I don’t want to see or hear any pencils moving, y’all hear me? Pencils down. Now like we said at the beginning, we’re going to call y’all up to the front row by row. Once Spike here takes your exams, you’re free to go.“

“And no talking until you’re out of here!” Rainbow Dash added from her position at the back of the classroom. “You can discuss the exam when you’re out. Until then, keep a lid on it, got it?” She glared at the first row of students making their way to the front as if daring any of them foolhardy enough to break any rules in front of her. Applejack just rolled her eyes at Rainbow’s show of fanaticism that was usually reserved for Wonderbolt business, issues involving the Scootaloo fan club, and Daring Do convention tickets.

A pile of papers was beginning to grow on the desk before Spike as the first line of students was approaching its end. The very last was Ocellus who lingered a few seconds after neatly setting her completed exam on the top of the pile. Ocellus opened her mouth to speak but decided against it, Rainbow Dash’s glare intense enough to be felt like a heat ray against the back of her head, and she hurried her way out of the room.

“Next row,” Applejack said, prompting a new line of students to form. In it, Gallus could spot a familiar yak and earth pony. Both appeared nervous, still shell-shocked from the harrowing exam experience they had just survived most likely, but Sandbar at least was able to smile and give a little wave when he caught Gallus’s glance. Yona, it seemed, was a little more distracted, and the moment she submitted her test, releasing that heavy burden from her shoulders, her features immediately brightened.

“Next.”

Now it was his turn. Gallus entered the single file line and found himself only a couple bodies behind Silverstream. He tapped on the mare in front of him and gestured forward toward the hippogriff until the mare understood and let him move up. The next student was either less understanding or more fond of his place in line so Gallus settled on reaching past him and getting Silverstream’s attention from his less than ideal position.

Like Sandbar, Silverstream grinned and waved once she saw the griffon, though hers were multitudes more energetic. Gallus waved back with significantly less enthusiasm as he noticed how much attention he and Silverstream had garnered from the other students.

“How you think you did?” Silverstream whispered over the student standing between her and Gallus.

Gallus quickly looked over to Rainbow Dash, making sure the pegasus hadn’t taken notice. He turned back to Silverstream and shrugged, rotating a talon side to side in a noncommittal motion.

“You’re going to rock the boat?” Silverstream interpreted, sending the center of Gallus’s open talon into the griffon’s forehead.

“I said no talking!”

“Oops. Sorry Professor Rainbow!”

Chuckles filled the classroom in reaction to Silverstream’s response, and the line continued on in a more light-hearted fashion. Gallus set his exam packet on the desk and made his way out into the hall where several others from his year were still about, mingling and discussing the exam they had just conquered. He stretched up toward the ceiling and extended his wings before releasing a mix of a cheer and a sigh.

“Finally,” he said, “it’s all over. No more tests, no more homework, no more lectures.”

“I know, right?” Beside him, Silverstream sniffed. “I already miss it. Remember when we all had to take that super long exam that we had to pass in order to graduate and get diplomas and stuff?”

“You mean like just now?”

“Yep. Good times. Oh hey, there’s Sandbar and Ocellus and, oh, and Yona too.” Silverstream made her approach toward the group huddled just outside the classroom entrance.

Gallus followed closely after. As he drew closer, something began to feel, well, off. It may have had to do with how subdued the three were, though that could have been attributed to the exam exhaustion. It may have been from the frown of worry Ocellus wore and the nervous way she was rubbing her foreleg, but with how important the test they completed was, a little nervousness was to expected even for a creature as studious as Ocellus; if anything, Gallus came to realize as he gave it more thought, the changeling’s academic nature made her more susceptible to the fear of failure.

That still left the odd expressions that Sandbar and Yona had on, displaying a different mix of concern, confusion, and, was it annoyance Gallus detected? That Gallus couldn’t explain, but before he could consider it further, Silverstream revealed their presence with a cheery, “What’s happening, ponies? And yaks. And changelings.”

“Not much, really,” Sandbar replied. “But, uh, did either of you notice Professor Spike acting weird at all?”

“Weird? Hm.” Silverstream thought for a moment. “Well when I last saw him, he was surrounded by a bunch of stacks of papers. I guess that was a little unusual.” She turned to Gallus. “You notice anything weird?”

Gallus shrugged. “Can’t say, wasn’t paying much attention. Why? What’s up?”

“Ocellus think Professor Spike look upset, and Ocellus worried it because Ocellus did bad on big final exam,” Yona explained.

“Oh no, how awful.” Silverstream sat herself beside Ocellus and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll still be friends with your even if you fail and get sent back to year one.”

“Sent back to year one? Can they do that?” The changeling began to sway.

“Silverstream, stop scaring her,” Sandbar commanded. “There’s no way Ocellus would fail. She’s like smarter than the rest of us all combined.”

Silverstream gasped. “Then none of us had a chance of passing. Good news Ocellus, we’re all going to back to the first year with you!”

Sandbar groaned as Yona shook her head. “Gallus, dude, help us out,” the earth pony pleaded.

“I don’t know, that exam was real difficult. I mean, who knows how we did. Kidding, I’m kidding,” the griffon added as Sandbar and Yona began to glare. “But no, seriously Ocellus, how’s Spike supposed to know how well you did when we just turned in those exams? There’s no way he’d be able to grade your exam that fast.”

“But then why did he look so upset when he got my exam?”

“You sure Professor Spike looked upset?” Sandbar asked. “I mean, none of us noticed anything.”

“What are we noticing?” The group turned to find Smolder approaching. “Hey, you guys having fun without me?”

“Just watching Ocellus have a meltdown,” Gallus joked. “She thinks she failed the final because Spike looked sad or something.”

Smolder stared blankly at the griffon, then at Ocellus. “Right, okay then. Ocellus, are you feeling okay?”

“That’s not what—“ Ocellus cut herself off with a groan. “Look, when I turned in my exam I noticed that Professor Spike looked upset. I was just trying to figure out why, and that explanation seemed the most reasonable at the time.”

Smolder raised her brow. “Most reasonable?”

“At the time,” Ocellus emphasized. “I had the exam still on my mind, still do actually, and it all just sort of, I don’t know, clicked in my head. Smolder, out of all of us you’ve spent the most time with Professor Spike. Was he acting strange to you?”

“You mean lately? I don’t know, it’s been a while since we last hung out. I guess he did look pretty beat, but he could’ve just been tired,” Smolder offered. “Or maybe he’s just not looking forward to grading all those exams on top of our graduate theses and the finals for the other years. I know I sure wouldn’t.”

As the rest of the group considered Smolder’s presented possibility and some expressed their agreement with nods, the door to the classroom opened and out stepped the dragon in question pushing a wheelbarrow full of papers. “Hey Professor Spike,” Sandbar greeted.

Spike looked up. “Oh. Hey,” he returned with the barest of smiles before continuing on his way down the hallway. As he turned at the corner and disappeared from their sight, the students turned to one another, silently processing the unnaturally terse, dare they say rude, interaction that just took place.

“Yona not think Professor Spike just tired,” Yona declared, breaking the silence with the conclusion they all had come to.

“Is that what depressed looks like?” asked Silverstream. “I think that’s what depressed looks like. Now what did Professor Pinkie Pie teach us to do in this situation? Sing a song? Cupcakes? Hugs?”

Ocellus suddenly gasped, grabbing group’s attention. “Nothing, it’s nothing,” she quickly assured. “Just had a weird thought.”

“Well, let’s hear it,” Smolder prompted.

“Well, and this might sound silly, I just thought, what if this is part of the exam?”

“What, Spike looking upset?” Gallus inquired.

Ocellus nodded. “Yes, like a way to test our observation skills and abilities to read emotions.”

“And give us a chance to apply what we learned in class to cheer him up,” Sandbar added. “Oh my gosh, Ocellus, you’re totally right! This has to be part of the test!”

“That does sound like something Headmare Twilight would come up with,” Gallus considered aloud. “Super unnecessarily complicated and manipulative with way too much hidden meaning behind it that only someone like Ocellus could figure out.”

Smolder frowned. “Yeah but Spike’s not that good of an actor. Like, at all. And I don’t think the professors would make another creature depressed just to test us.”

“They’ve done it to teach us lessons before,” Ocellus brought up. “Like when we followed Professor Rarity and Professor Rainbow Dash around to watch their friendship break and then repair.”

“Yeah but that’s different,” Smolder argued. “Look, I’m just going to go up to the professors and straight up ask. Here they are now.” She pointed to the pair of mares now leaving the empty classroom. Smolder marched forward, and the rest of them followed.

As they drew closer, it became apparent that the two were bickering, both frowning and trying speak over the other. A few of the group exchanged nervous glances. “You don’t think this is part of the test too, do you?” asked Sandbar.

“Only one way to find out.” Smolder stepped forward and waved. “Hey, Professor Rainbow Dash! Professor Applejack!”

The argument between the two mares ceased as they turned to the group of students before them. “Oh, hey. What you still all doing here? I’d have ran off to celebrate the moment I finished that exam,” said Rainbow.

“Must have something important to say,” Applejack noted. “So, what’ll be?”

“Is Professor Spike looking all depressed part of the test, and we’re supposed to find out why and then cheer him up?” Silverstream blurted out. “Also, is you arguing also part of the test, and we’re supposed to find out why and then make you friends again?”

The two mares blinked. “I told you he looked off,” Applejack said smugly.

“I didn’t say he didn’t look off,” Rainbow grumbled. “I just said, look, he’s probably just tired.”

“Tired my hoof,” Applejack said, slamming her hoof against the hard stone floor. “I’ve seen tired, I’ve even seen exhausted, and Spike ain’t either. Heck, even they can see something is wrong with Spike.” She gestured to the students.

“If there was something wrong, he’d tell us,” Rainbow Dash argued. “Not everypony’s as stubborn and pigheaded as you.”

“Now that’s rich coming from you.”

The students watched as the two mares began to butt heads and continued slinging insults at one another through clenched teeth. “So is this part of the test or what?” Smolder asked, interrupting.

“What? Oh.” The two separated. “No, you guys are finished, test’s over,” Rainbow said.

“Hm, now is this also a—“

“Silverstream, no, the test is done. No more tests.”

“So Professor Spike’s actually upset?” Sandbar asked.

“Seems like it,” said Applejack. “That’s what we were just discussing anyways, and I’m sure y’all agree with me when I say we should ask to find out what’s bothering him.”

“Hey, don’t bring the students into this.” Rainbow groaned. “Fine, let’s go talk to Spike and probably get dragged into exam grading, that’s probably all this is. Or here, what about this? If there’s something actually going on, Rarity’ll probably know something about it. They’re, you know, close. Let’s ask her instead. No risk in being guilt-tripped into grading exams there.”

“For the love of, ugh. Fine,” Applejack conceded. “You see what Rarity knows, and I’ll speak to Spike. You got anything to say about that arrangement?”

“Works for me,” Rainbow Dash answered with a shrug. To the students she said, “You guys can go do whatever. You’re free.”

“Do we get extra credit for trying to help?” Gallus asked.

“We’ll see,” Applejack said as she and Rainbow split from the group, with Applejack following the path Spike took and Rainbow Dash in the opposite direction. Much of the hallway was clear, and it didn’t take long for the farmer to reach Twilight’s office, the empty wheelbarrow just outside. She opened the door and stepped in.

“Hey, Spike?” Applejack called. She looked around, peeking past the freshly constructed towers of exams. There was some amusement to be had at seeing the headmare’s office once again being taken over by a forest of papers, but there was no dragon to be found amidst the neatly made stacks. Spike had been here recently, the exams were evidence of that, but where was he now?

Applejack stepped out of the office. Perhaps someone had seen Spike or knew where he went, though the emptiness of the hall made it unlikely for her to find such a helpful individual. With little else to do, Applejack began her search through the corridor, opening doors in hopes of finding Spike at random.

“Come on, Spike, where are you?” Applejack muttered as she swung open the door to a broom closet. No dragon, but instead, to her surprise, were three very familiar young mares. “Apple Bloom? Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle? What’re you three doing in here?”

“Looking for some cleaning supplies, but then we bumped the broom holding the door open and got us locked inside,” Apple Bloom explained as the others nodded sheepishly.

“Again?” Applejack said, her tone tired and exasperated.

“Hey, it doesn’t happen that often,” Scootaloo insisted. “Like, what? Once every two months?”

“I think we need to invest in some actual doorstops,” suggested Sweetie Belle. “Oh, how did the exam go? We forgot to ask Spike when we saw him earlier.”

“Hold on, y’all seen Spike? Know where he went?”

“I think he was headed to the kitchen,” Apple Bloom answered her sister. “Least, that’s the only thing I can think of in the direction he was going.” The younger earth pony pointed. “Maybe he went to get a snack or something. Sure looked like he needed one.”

“That or a nap,” Scootaloo added.

“Kitchen, got it. Thanks.” Applejack continued, now with a destination in mind, and she soon reached the kitchen. A few nearby members of the kitchen staff greeted her and confirmed Spike’s presence, pointing her toward him at one of the many counters in front of one of the many ovens. Before him were several recipe cards, a large bowl with some sort of batter he was mixing, and a cookie tray covered in a thin layer of shiny wrapping.

“Howdy, Spike,” Applejack greeted as she approached. “You doing some baking?”

“Huh?” The dragon looked up. “Oh, hi,” he said, then returned to his mixing. “Just trying to make some of the stuff the gala organization committee recommended.”

“I see. Hey, listen, are you doing alright?”

Spike stopped mixing. His face twisted in discomfort right before a loud belch and several streaks of fire escaped his mouth, forcing ponies close by, including Applejack, to duck for cover. “Sorry,” he said as he picked out the scroll that had materialized out of the flames and fallen into the mixing bowl.

“S’all right,” Applejack assured as she got back up and those of the kitchen staff returned to their business. “Update from Twilight?”

Spike examined the seal on the scroll now covered in batter before breaking it. “Looks like it. Can’t really read it like this though.“ He sighed and set the letter to the side.

“I’m sure she and Discord are fine. I wouldn’t be too worried.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wish Twilight was here.” Again, he sighed. “I could really use her advice right now.”

Applejack reached over and patted Spike on his shoulder. “Well, I certainly ain’t Twilight, but I’m still here to hear you out. What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, uh, you know.” Spike tried to laugh. “Just the usual, work and the grading and being made headdragon, nothing serious. It’s honestly kind of silly, just forget about it.”

“Not happening, partner. Something’s wrong, and I aim to fix it. If you’d be more comfortable talking to Rarity about it, I won’t take any offense, we can go grab her.”

Something in that suggestion triggered an unmistakable wince, but what? Applejack took a moment to review what had been spoken. Which of her words would have warranted such a reaction? Partner? Aim to fix? Offense? Or could it, against any sense or reason, have been...

“Spike, is there something going on with Rarity?”

Spike’s entire body stiffened. “I, I need to get going,” he said, excusing himself from the kitchen. Applejack hurried after him, but the moment they reached outside, the dragon took to the air, flying far out of her reach.

“Maybe Rainbow should’ve been the one to talk to Spike,” Applejack mulled as she watched the dragon grow smaller and smaller until he was no longer visible. With a defeated sigh, Applejack went back inside just in time to catch Rainbow Dash running by.

“There you are!” the pegasus shouted as she turned course and returned. “Look, I think I know why Spike’s all upset. It has to with Rarity.”

“Figured as much. Spike flew off almost the moment I mentioned Rarity’s name,” Applejack said. “So Rarity tell you what’s going on?”

“Ha! Yeah, right. She clammed up as soon as I explained that Spike was acting depressed and stuff, and then she started acting all depressed. Or more than recently, according to Fluttershy.”

“Wait, you saying Rarity’s been acting out of sorts too?”

“I guess?” Rainbow shrugged. “Apparently, she’s been super quiet too, but if anypony asks she just tells them she’s just tired, and well, you know Fluttershy’s not exactly the kind of pony that makes other pony’s businesses her business. Anyways, it’s pretty obvious it’s all related. What should we do now?”

“Ooh boy.” Applejack swallowed and removed her hat to wipe her brow. “Okay, grab Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. We’ve got a friendship crisis on our hooves. Time for an emergency meeting. We’ll figure out what to do together.”

“Right, sounds good,” Rainbow Dash said, and with a nod, the two separated.

Chapter 11

Much can change in a thousand years.

Now the sentence above may seem rather obvious, much can change in just a year after all, but a thousand year can be difficult to appreciate by those who measure their lives in mere decades. It’s one thing to recognize that a thousand years ago, most ponies lived in small villages made up of quaint little one floor houses that lack proper plumbing, literacy was considered a self-indulgent luxury by many outside the realm of scholars and the governing body, and nighttime was a time for sleep and burglary, it was another to watch as massive structures stretching up to the heavens replaced those quaint little houses, as reading became commonplace and writing became less of a means of communication and preservation and more for expanding and revising literary works of others to fit one’s own preferred narrative, and as the advent of electricity and caffeinated beverages led to the questioning of how much sleep was actually necessary for a functional life.

And it was another thing entirely to awaken to that change after a thousand year absence, like with Princess Luna. For a time, the change had been overwhelming, and the younger of the royal sisters struggled with this brave new world she had suddenly crashed into, and of the three aforementioned examples, she had the most difficulty coming to terms with the third. Ponies out and about while the hour late and sky dark, working and playing almost as if it were day? It was utter madness, and the night, once Luna’s domain, was now as mysterious and terrifying to her as it had been to her subjects a thousand years ago. For a time, she refused to return to her old duties despite her sister’s pleas. This adoration ponies now had for the night, this new appreciation of the stars and moon, they were of Celestia’s doing, not hers, Luna argued, and perhaps it would be for the best if Celestia remained the night’s custodian.

Months of prodding and persuasion came to a head when Princess Celestia, tired of arguing, simply refused to lower the sun until Luna raised the moon. Reckless, yes, but Luna did return to her duties that night, and as she got back into the swung of things and discovered that there had been areas her sister had been rather lax about during her stint as the guardian of the night, namely the monitoring of the dream realm, her apprehension in returning to her old position lessened, and she could focus on integrating into the modern nightlife of which just about every settlement had some sort. Even towns and villages as small as Ponyville could be seen celebrating late into the evening on nights like Nightmare Night and other special occasions.

This night was one such occasion for at least a small portion of Ponyville’s population, and while much of the town was quieting down as businesses closed for the day and ponies headed home to prepare for supper, Princess Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship buzzed with excitement. The halls were packed with murmurs as the school’s very first year of graduates got ready. Giggles came from the dormitories and the multitude of makeover sessions they housed.

Those who had finished dressing waited impatiently at the doors of the friends who had not, counting the minutes that passed and preparing to add ten more so that their future complaining would appear less petty. Sandbar was one such creature, the wait and boredom testing even his laidback nature. For the third time that night, the earth pony knocked on the door barring his entrance.

“Come on, Gallus,” he said, almost whined. “You alright in there?”

“Uh huh,” came the reply from the other side.

Sandbar took in a deep breath and released it along with some of his frustration. He grabbed the doorknob and turned, trying to make as much of an annoying rattle as he could against the locking mechanism. To his surprise, the knob moved unhindered by any lock. “Hey, dude? You forgot to lock the door.”

“Uh huh.”

“You mind if I step in?” Sandbar asked. He forced a smile at a pair of mares in dresses who gave him an odd look as they walked by. “This is getting real awkward.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay? Uh, do you not mind if I step in?”

“Uh huh.”

“So I can go in, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Great, I’ll just—“

“What’re you doing?”

With a sigh, Sandbar turned away from the door to the approaching group consisting of Ocellus, Silverstream, Smolder who had been the one to speak, and Yona. “Wait, are you guys still not ready?” Smolder asked. “How did we finish before you two?”

“Maybe suits are harder to put on than dresses,” suggested Silverstream. “We’ve got zippers, and they’ve got those round things that you stick into those little holes and kind of look like bits sometimes but don’t have any actual monetary value.”

“You mean buttons?” Ocellus asked.

“Yeah, buttons. Those are way harder to use than zippers. Oh, and look!” Silverstream pointed first to Sandbar, then to Smolder. “You two match.”

Smolder looked Sandbar over, taking in the dull light red suit jacket he was wearing over his rather pink shirt with a blue bow tie around the collar. She glanced down at herself and the dress Rarity had made for her. It was just about everything she had ever denied of dreaming of, with those soft puffy shoulders and a bow around her waist and lace and ribbons running along her sleeves and the edge of her skirt that extended to the point where her feet were completely hidden.

“I don’t see it,” Smolder said. “How are we matching?”

“Yona see it,” Yona declared, pointing and stomping. “Smolder and Sandbar both pink.”

“Oh, that’s right. Hey Sandbar, Sandbar?” Ocellus waved her leg in front of the earth pony’s face. “Sandbar, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Sandbar shook himself. “Y-Yeah, just great. Just, ah, well, you all look super amazing. Like, wow. It’s honestly kind of freaking me out here,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Aw,” Silverstream cooed, flinging a foreleg over Sandbar’s shoulders as Ocellus ducked her head and tried to hide her blushing face. The hippogriff wore a light purple, open back gown with a neckline of amethysts similar to the piece of magic pearl she always wore and a thin train made up of a mosaic of blue, greens, and reds that gave the impression of a seapony’s tail. Ocellus, meanwhile, had decided on the Water Filly and its beautiful spectrum of blues and greens and decorative additions with a reddish silk waist wrap that matched the color of the changeling’s wings. “I think that has been the nicest way that anyone’s told me I freak them out.”

Yona laughed and pounded her hoof against her chest. Hers was a gown of gold, with layers of yellows flowing over her back and trailing behind her and shawls of silvers wrapped around the her neck and front. “Yaks look good in anything,” she boasted.

“Right.” Sandbar nodded and tugged at his collar. “Um, what were we talking about again?”

“How you and Gallus still aren’t ready yet,” Smolder answered, placing her claws on her hips. “And, uh, we sort of match. That’s what they’re saying anyways. Is it supposed to be pink?”

“What’re you talking about? It’s not pink,” Sandbar insisted. “It’s totally red.”

Smolder gestured to what was viable of the shirt beneath Sandbar’s jacket. “What about the shirt?”

“Oh. That.” Sandbar rubbed the back of his head as he put on a small, silly smile. “I kind of washed it with the jacket and, well, you know what happens when you don’t separate your whites from your colors.”

The four turned to each other with questioning stares. “Is this a race thing?” asked Silverstream. “‘Cause it sounds like a race thing.”

“What, no! No, I meant with laundry.”

“Sandbar, the only one here who has any clothes is Yona,” said Smolder. “And I’m pretty sure the only times she washes it is when she goes home for the holidays.”

“Lucky yak cloak sacred, must clean in sacred water blessed in Yakyakistan.”

“Anyways,” the dragon continued, “what’s taking Gallus?” She walked over to the door and knocked, but there was no reply.

Sandbar shrugged. “No idea. He sounds distracted by something, even forgot to lock his door.”

“Then why are we still just standing here?” Smolder grabbed hold of the knob and started to turn it.

“Wait, what if he’s getting dressed?” Ocellus interjected.

“So? It’s not like we’re going to see anything we haven’t seen already.”

The changeling took a moment to consider Smolder’s retort. “Right. Carry on.”

Smolder nodded and looked the group over. Hearing no further objections, she turned the knob and pushed. The door swung open to reveal a griffon in his borrowed blue tuxedo puffing his chest out at the mirror. He began to turn away only to suddenly snap back to the reflective glass, and with a massive smirk on his face, Gallus raised his talons and pointed at the griffon pointing back, clicking his tongue against his beak. Moments passed as in a combination of curious fascination, concern, shame and sympathy, and amusement his friends simply watched him enact an entire fashion runway worth of poses.

“Okay, that we haven’t seen,” Smolder said at last, breaking the silence. Her words seemed to have also broken Gallus out whatever trance the griffon had gotten himself in as he suddenly shook himself and turned to the room’s doorway to discover the intruders.

Gallus released a yelp and threw one claw over his front and the other over his face to cover the reddening of its color. “Don’t any of you knock?” he demanded.

A collection of eye rolls was the group’s answer to Gallus’s indignant accusation. “So are you done here, or do you need a few more minutes alone with your date?” Smolder teased, earning a few snickers from the others.

“Oh ha ha,” Gallus deadpanned. He gave his reflection one last glance, straightened the tie and collar, and started toward his friends. “Alright, let’s get going.”

The group welcomed the griffon into their fold with a cheer and made their way through the school. Other groups of students from their year walked with them, all headed in the same direction and emitting the same air of anticipation. Dresses, suits, and accessories of all sorts of shape, size, and color could be seen as the beings in them chatted amongst each other, exchanging compliments and smiles and sharing the contagious excitement. It didn’t take long before every being began to march in rhythm and the chatter became harmonic, a prelude to the inevitable musical number; soon, even Gallus and Smolder found themselves contributing their voices to the chorus.

Applejack’s ears twitched as the echoes of song reached them. “Something wrong?” Spike, looking up from his notecards, asked as the farmer turned toward the end of the hall.

“Thought I heard something,” Applejack said, rubbing the interior of her ear with a hoof. Like the approaching students, she too was in formal wear, a rather simple ensemble of brown and burgundy with green accents that would not clash with her ever-present farmer’s hat. “Gone now, whatever it was. So what you got there?” She pointed to the cards Spike had been reviewing.

“Oh, you know. Just making sure I’ve got this welcoming speech down.” Spike laughed weakly. “Can’t believe I almost forgot to prepare one.”

“Well, you’ve been busy, what with having to finish those graduate theses and stuff on top of getting this shindig put together with Pinkie Pie. Ain’t no creature here’d blame you if you just kicked things off with a howdy and a have fun.” Applejack shrugged. “You really need a fancy introduction?”

“Maybe.” The dragon sighed. “Twilight would know better, Starlight too. Wish they were standing up here instead of me.”

“Not a fan of public speaking, huh?”

“Nope. Or yeah. I mean, no, I’m not a fan,” Spike said, putting away the notecards. “I mean, I’ve been in plays and led a few lectures in class, but this? Giving a speech?” He shook his head. “Gah, I can’t help but be nervous. Hey, Applejack?”

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say thanks.” Spike slipped his claws into the pockets of his suit jacket and began to rock back on his heels. “You know, for being up here on this podium with. I don’t think I’d be able to do this alone.”

Applejack coughed. “So, uh, about that.” She rubbed the back of her head. “You know how sometimes something comes up, and there has to be a change of plans?”

Taking a deep breath, Spike opened his eyes and forced his clenched fists open. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, something came up.” Applejack’s eyes began to wander. “I’ve got to help Pinkie Pie with, uh, that one thing she always does before she, you know, starts a party, and and ‘cause this is such a big party, she needs my help!” She took a couple of steps back, removing herself from the raised platform. “Yeah, she needs my help something fierce, and I’ve got to get going. Anyways, I’m not going to be able to help you with the introduction, but don’t worry, somepony else’ll be here soon to help.”

Spike considered the retreating mare with a raised brow. “Okay? I mean, I wish you’d have said something sooner.”

“Well, it was kind of, you know, a last minute sort of thing.” Applejack tried to laugh.

“Right. So what does Pinkie need help with?”

“What was that? I think I hear Pinkie Pie calling my name! I’d better hurry! To see what she needs!”

“Right,” Spike muttered as he watched Applejack run off, the sounds of her steps against the floor becoming more and more tapered as the distance between she and him grew. With little else to do, Spike pulled out his cards for another review, but it wasn’t long before a new set of hoofsteps caught his attention, this time getting louder as time passed. He looked up.

Headed toward him was Rainbow Dash in a gown, the front consisting of orange cloth that hung loosely from the pegasus’s shoulders and crossed over her chest before extending under her stomach. From there the cloth was wrapped around her flanks and rump, leaving her back completely uncovered and her wings unhindered, which was then followed by a long skirt of violet and navy blue that fell past Rainbow’s hind hooves. Some effort had been made to straighten Rainbow Dash’s typically messy mane and tail, but there was nothing special or notable, no bands or braids, a stark contrast to the mane of the mare following a step behind whose indigo curls were more prominent and pronounced and held in place by clips encrusted with small diamonds.

Green eyes met azure eyes for the briefest of seconds before their owners quickly found something else of interest and pointed their gazes elsewhere, Spike to the cards that had slipped from his fumbling fingers and Rarity to the grinning mare next to her who for whatever reason was looking quite pleased with herself.

“What?” Rainbow asked, still smiling. The single spoken word sounded less of an inquiry and more of a challenge.

“Nothing, nothing. Just, ah.” Rarity bit her lip. “From what you had told me, I was under the impression that I was to assist Applejack with the gala’s welcoming ceremony.”

“Nah, pretty sure I said Spike needed your help, not Applejack. I mean, obviously,” Rainbow scoffed. “Spike’s headdragon after all, of course he’d be the one to make the big introduction speech.”

“Yes, I suppose that would make sense.” Rarity’s chuckle was forced. “Silly me.”

“Well, have fun.” Rainbow nudged the unicorn forward with her wing. “As fun as you can with speeches anyways.”

The second push by Rainbow’s feathery appendage was much less gentle, sending Rarity stumbling toward the platform and Spike. She turned to glare at the pegasus, but Rainbow Dash had already flown off. With a soft sigh, Rarity slowly made her way to the podium, carefully keeping her gaze averted as she took her position next to Spike.

From the very end of the hall, around the corner, peeked Applejack and Rainbow Dash. “Is this really the best idea we could come up with?” Applejack whispered as she watched.

“Hey, being artificially forced to work together to solve some problem worked with Rarity and me,” Rainbow declared. “Better than, what was your idea again? Tie them up together and leave them in your barn until they figured whatever was going on all out?”

“That was a joke. Mostly. Can you make anything out?”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Can’t tell. Maybe if we could get a little closer, wait. I think Spike’s going to say something,” she whispered, pointing at the dragon as he slowly raised a claw to his mouth. The two mares held their breath only to have to release it in disappointment when Spike simply coughed and lowered the claw back to his side. The next few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, broken by a gasp from the end of the hall whenever either Spike or Rarity made any move that could be interpreted, however wildly, as a motion to speak or get the other’s attention.

All four sighed, the frustration, at least in part, shared. “Okay, we can’t let this continue on like it is,” Applejack said. “This ain’t working, we got try something else.”

“Like what?” Rainbow whispered back.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking. We could always try confronting them directly about it.”

“We’ve tried that already, remember? And they probably just find some excuse and run off again or something.”

“But now’s different. We’ve already managed to get them together in the same room, that’s something, and they’re not going to run when they’ve got a job to do.”

“We don’t even know what’s going on. One wrong word could ruin everything.” Rainbow frowned and shook her head. “Us going up there and making them talk could end up making things way worse. Come on, AJ, you’re supposed to be the rational one, not me.”

“I‘m being perfectly rational. Heck, and if I ain’t, it’s ‘cause I let you talk me into this plan in the first place.”

“Hey!”

As the discussion began to devolve into bickering, Rarity found herself unknowingly agreeing with Applejack’s first point; things couldn’t continue as they were between her and Spike. She couldn’t keep avoiding him like she had been and hoping that somehow, by some miracle, everything would fix itself on its own, that they could return to their old friendship as if nothing had ever happened. It wasn’t fair, not to Spike nor to herself, not after all the years they had been together as friends and certainly not after what she had done to him. Rarity took in a deep breath, and then another, bracing herself for the response she feared as she prepared to speak, to turn and finally look him in the eye.

“So.”

They had spoken the sole word together, she and Spike, and together they shut themselves up again, quickly looking away as they grabbed at the back of their neck awkwardly or fiddled with the end of their dress.

“So.”

Another mutual attempt to salvage their relationship, another mutual display of cowardice. The pained silence continued its reign, mocking her efforts with a cruel laugh only she could hear. Rarity’s frustration, directed at herself and at the situation, quickly returned to a boil, and again she breathed in deeply to ready herself once more. This time, she promised, this time.

“Spike, I—“

“Rarity, there’s—“

“—and have the best night ever!”

Rarity and Spike turned to discover the quiet, empty hall no longer quiet nor empty. Students were making their way to them, babbling away excitedly as they rode the euphoria that came with song and improvised choreography, the last couple or so bars still ringing out through the school. A crowd of well dressed individuals soon formed in front of the podium Rarity and Spike stood upon, slowly quieting as they waited and watched with expectant eyes.

The excited stares grew curious and confused as time went on in silence, and few restless whispers begun to spread among the crowd. Rarity, recovering first, cleared her throat and put on a wide, warm smile. “Good evening, every creature,” she projected to the end of the hall. “Welcome to the School of Friendship’s first ever graduates’s gala ball, or prom if you prefer.”

A cheer rippled through the students, and those with hooves stopped their applause out against the floor as the students with claws and hands clapped them together. Rarity raised her hoof, calling for quiet. “Now, I’m sure we are all eager to begin, but first I am certain our acting headdragon would like to say a few words. Isn’t.” She swallowed. “Isn’t that right, Spike?”

“Y-yes. Yes! Er, right. Ahem.” Spike straightened his back and stepped forward. “Yes, right. Um, thank you, Rarity,” he managed to say as he retrieved his notecards from his pocket. “So, uh, so Twilight couldn’t make it tonight, but if she was here, I bet she’d go around the room and tell each and every single one of you how proud she was of you. Now I know final grades aren’t out just yet, and none of you have actually graduated, but—“

“We have!” cried out a trio of young mares.

“Besides our honorary graduates,” Spike amended with a roll of his eyes as the crowd started to laugh. “Now I know final grades are, wait, um, where was I? Oh, right. Anyways, just by getting to this point is proof enough that all of you can truly demonstrate how to be a good friends and have taken this school’s teachings and ideals to heart, those ideals being...”

Spike moved to the next card on the stack. “...not important. What is important is that tonight, we all have fun. So please, enjoy the School of Friendship’s first ever prom. Just follow the hall to the courtyard. Thank you.”

There was a moment of uncertain silence as the group before Spike stared blankly at him. Then, almost as one, they shrugged and started toward the direction they were given, the excited chatter and noise returning. Eventually, all the students had gone from sight, giving Spike the necessary privacy to groan and smack himself in the forehead with an open claw. “That. Was awful.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say awful,” Rarity tried to assure. “I mean, it was certainly a rather, interesting speech.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go like that,” Spike grumbled as he glared at his notecards. “I mixed up the speech’s order and ended up panicking.” He crumbled the cards all into a ball, and finding no wastebasket around, he shoved the ball into his pocket.

“Ah.”

And like that, the greatest exchange of words between she and Spike in a significant while was over. The awkward silence had returned with the most triumphant roar it could muster. It was back to coughing and clearing of throats as the two avoided eye contact. “So,” Spike said, a claw nervously grasping at the front of his neck, “I should probably check up on how the prom’s doing. You know, make sure everyone’s having a good time, see if anyone needs me. Acting headdragon stuff.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Um, have a good night.”

“Yes, good night, to you as well.”

Some several long seconds passed, yet Spike made no move to leave. There he lingered, dragging his feet back and forth. “Um—“

“Spike, I-I know this rather sudden,” Rarity suddenly exclaimed, “but, ah, I wasn’t given any details on what my responsibilities were tonight, just to act as a chaperone.“ She tried laughing. “Could I, that is to say, would you mind if I were to, accompany you tonight? As an assistant?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’d like that. I mean, if that’s what you want.”

More seconds passed. “Then, then perhaps we should be on our way?” Rarity suggested.

“Right! Sorry, let’s get going.”

And with that, with the same first step, Spike and Rarity began making their way to the courtyard, to the party neither was finding much stomach for. Together.

Chapter 12

Music is a bit of a curious subject. It stands as a medium of both artistic value and entertainment, capable of sparking emotional outbursts and frightening questions in some cases while in others appealing to our basest desires for pleasure and stimulation. It is considered part of the school of art and yet is largely defined and measured in numbers, citizens of that alien realm of mathematics. And though much of society recognizes and respects music for all of its complexities and cultural importance, the attitude toward musicians is mostly a mixed bag. Children, for example, are praised for showing musical talent at an early age, but continued interest in the developing that talent is often met with ridicule and jeers at how it’s a waste of time, and while the old classical masters are praised for their abilities long after they’ve turned to dirt, many popular modern musicians who have found success tend to be decried as hacks who have sold their souls and artistic visions and become slaves of capitalism and the artificial pop entertainment industry.

Consider how many well-intentioned but ultimately overbearing parents will push their offspring to learn an instrument, develop an ear for tone and tune, and have a grasp on the strange and mysterious world of music theory, but any mention or hint of a desire to pursue music professionally is often met with tears and aneurysms. Which, to a degree, is a reasonable reaction, given the amount of effort necessary to stay competitive in that field and how low the monetary returns are and wouldn’t you rather do something productive with your life like be a dentist or a lawyer?

Those that do persevere through the guilt-trips and passive aggression in addition to the long hours of practice and high maintenance costs of their instrument of choice will often one day discover a musical note or symbol or something similarly related to music on their flank, and at that point most parents would give up trying to influence the child’s future as it is rather difficult, and somewhat silly, to argue with the physical manifestation of their child’s destiny.

Octavia Melody’s parents were not such parents as from the very beginning they were very much supportive of the young filly’s dream of becoming a cellist by trade. They were however less understanding about her decision to leave for some backwater settlement called Ponyville and move in with that strange unicorn friend of hers who for whatever reason spells her name with numbers instead of letters. True, her roommate’s many eccentricities did occasionally drive her up the walls, and yes, there was a bit of a commute to the best gigs up in Canterlot, and yes, the odd accent all her friends here spoke in could be at times difficult to decipher and hers to them, but Octavia was still very much content, dare she say happy, with her life as Ponyville’s premier cellist.

Now besides the occasional wedding or charity event, there wasn’t much work to be found in such a small town, and so Octavia found herself often leaving for Canterlot for long stretches of time in preparation for a performance at some private concert or opera or at some garden party hosted by the aristocracy. These trips were long and tended to leave Octavia drained, sapping the cellist of any energy for the first couple of days she’d spend back in Ponyville; her inability to sleep on the train ride back and her roommate’s love for loud music with hard beats and overwhelming bass likely didn’t help. Thus it was quite understandable that Octavia, exhausted from her most recent recital, didn’t display the enthusiasm her roommate had when the disk jockey informed her of the job she had accepted on both of their behalves or find much amusement in her roommate’s re-enactment of the local dragon on their doorstep begging them to take the gig. Octavia’s mood only soured once she was informed that payment had already been accepted, a good fraction of which had already been spent, and that the event they were to perform at happened to be this very night in about half an hour.

And so instead of entering a well-deserved slumber, Octavia Melody found herself at the threshold of the School of Friendship’s courtyard, wearing the same bow tie she had been wearing in Canterlot while she played the same octet of quarter notes over and over again. Accompanying her was DJ Pon-3, spelling intentional, on her record mixer providing the bassline and miscellaneous sound effects, nodding her head to the beat.

Spike and Rarity watched the two perform at a distance, unaware that they themselves were being watched by a certain farmer and a certain aerial acrobat. “It looks nice,” Rarity finally said. “The decorations I mean. It really does feel like a gala.”

“Oh, um, thanks. But Pinkie Pie did most of the work.” Spike rubbed the back of his head bashfully. “I just, reined her in, kept her from making it too Pinkie Pie, you know?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

The cellist began her fifty-fourth repeat of those eight notes of the night as the two fell back into silence. Slowly, Spike turned back to face the mare standing beside him, his mouth opening to speak, and discovered Rarity staring directly at him with her own mouth agape.

“There’s something I—“

“Spike, I need to—“

“S-sorry, you can go first.”

“No no, I insist, please continue.”

“Okay, um.” A visible bulge forced its way down Spike’s throat as he gulped. “It’s just, I’ve been meaning to say something, like all night. Longer even. And, and it’s, you know how, what I’m trying to say is, what I mean to say is.” Spike shut his eyes and turned away. “Your dress is nice.”

“Oh.” A surge of mixed feelings filled Rarity, relief in that what she was dreading to hear from Spike was being delayed and disappointment in that what she needed to hear from Spike was being delayed. “Thank you.”

“Haven’t seen that dress before. Is it new?”

“This?” Rarity hesitated. Despite herself and her reputation as always fashionable and elegant, she found it too difficult to focus on choosing an outfit for tonight, there being so much on her mind already, and simply decided on first passable attire she could pull out of her personal closet. An air of dread gripped her and sent her heart sinking as she came to realized just what that outfit was. The gown in question was of a thick, insulated, dark purple material with a violet silk vest over the front and the sleeves that reached the ends of her hooves. Cut emeralds were embedded in the cloth, sparkling like distant green stars in a vast purple sky. The skirt was similar, with a lighter colored silk covering over the thicker base and streaks of green embroidery running the length of the train.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” she said with a low chuckle. “It’s just something I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

A very specific special occasion indeed. The sleeves and shoulders still stretched from all the running Rarity had forced it through were quickly becoming a stark reminder of that failure of a night, and though the one she had been saving it for was now finally able to enjoy it, she received no pleasure from his praise.

“You look rather dashing yourself,” Rarity said, returning the compliment. “That is to say, your suit, you wear it well,” she, recognizing the dangerous potential of her words being interpreted as flirtatious and dire consequences of such a possible misunderstanding after everything that had transpired between the two, quickly added. “It looks,” she was about to continue, but an extra stitch in the suit jacket, right next to one of the small openings in the back that let him stretch out his wings, caught the seamstress’s eye. It was a small detail, one that many would have missed, but then, there weren’t many who could match Rarity’s knack for observation or her ability to discern the differences between shades of black, and so in her view at least the thread in that extra stitch was very clearly lighter than the material of the rest of the jacket.

“Did something happen here?” she asked with a gesture toward the area with the stitching.

“Huh? Oh. That.” Spike rolled his shoulders and took a step back. “Yeah, uh, I was in a hurry and tore it while flying.”

“Did you fix this yourself?“ Rarity inquired. “It’s quite well done.”

“Um, no.” The dragon hesitated. “I went to Fluttershy.”

“Oh.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash, their dresses and manes somewhat ruffled from their recent tiff, watched as Spike and Rarity turned away from each other in silence. A low groan escaped Rainbow. “Come on, don’t stop now,” she whispered, pulling down on her face. “You were doing so well.”

“Were they?” Applejack with an eyebrow cocked upward questioned. “I couldn’t exactly hear what Spike and Rarity were talking about. You saying you could?”

“Well, no,” Rainbow admitted, “but they’re standing together and finally talking, and that’s more than what we’ve gotten them to do in a while.”

“Not exactly the highest bar to pass.”

“Sure, but it’s still progress. We just have to move it along a bit.” Rainbow Dash tapped her chin thoughtfully. “We need another problem, something only Spike and Rarity can solve together. You think we can stage a kidnapping?”

Applejack opened her mouth with a protest on the tip of her tongue, but before she could speak, Pinkie Pie rushed inside toward her and Rainbow. Her sudden entrance stole the attention of every being inside and a few from those just outside hanging around the courtyard’s entrance, and now all eyes were upon her. Even Octavia in all her experience and professionalism found herself curious and her bow lingering on the same string position, prolonging the note.

“I’m okay!” Pinkie Pie shouted, waving to those staring. “Everything’s fine, it’s all great, we’re all having a wonderful time. Hi Rarity! Hi Spike!” Her waves toward those two were more energetic and forceful, and they continued even after Rarity and Spike waved back. Instead, the gesture’s return seemed to drive Pinkie to wave even more forcefully. The two talked amongst themselves for a short moment, then with a shrug, they approached Pinkie, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash just as Fluttershy entered and made her way to the group as well.

“What’s going on?” Applejack whispered to Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie Pie lowered her voice. “Okay, I know we all agreed to leave Spike and Rarity alone so that they can resolve this weirdness between them, but, oh hey! Spike, Rarity!” she suddenly said as they drew close. “How’s it been?”

“Well, I suppose,” Rarity said. “Spike was telling me about all the work you put into the decorations.”

“Oh cool, you two are talking again. Haven’t seen that in a while. And you’re standing next to each other without running away. Good good, you two should keep that up.”

Spike and Rarity shared a glance before looking away. “So, um, was there something you needed?” Spike asked. He tried to hide the spreading blush on his face as Rarity did the same with the same limited success.

“Right. So don’t want to alarm anypony, but we’ve got an emergency on our hooves. Everything is not fine. It’s not all great, and we are not, I repeat, are not all having a wonderful time.”

“Can’t be that bad if Fluttershy’s not panicking,” Rainbow Dash noted with a motion toward the yellow pegasus who frowned at the jest at her expense. “I’m kidding. Seriously, what’s up? We out of punch or something?”

“Actually, there’s something I—“

“No, because we couldn’t serve punch in the first place,” Pinkie grumbled.

“Wait, really? But those are punch bowls. What else are you supposed to serve in those besides punch?”

“Um, there’s something you—“

“One’s got cucumber water, the other has—“

“Pinkie, the emergency?” Applejack prompted, directing the conversation back on topic.

“Right, right.” Pinkie Pie took a deep breath. “Creatures are getting bored. They’re just standing around in the courtyard looking miserable, and yeah, I get that it’s kind of part of the whole gala experience, but this is still a party, and when we promised these students a party, we promised fun.”

“Everypony, please, there’s—“

“What about the piñata?” Spike asked.

“Already done.” Pinkie shuddered. “It didn’t last long against Yona. We need to do something, something fun and exciting, and we need to do it fast.”

“Okay.” Spike rubbed his claws together. “Come on, what would Twilight do? Okay, let’s see. Maybe, okay, what about this? I’ll talk to Octavia and Vinyl, see if they’ll take any requests. We can try organizing a group dance, like the Pony Pokey or conga or something. And, Pinkie Pie, you’ve got a stash of party games somewhere around here in case of party game emergencies, don’t you?”

“That I do, but it’s going to take a little time to set everything up.”

“Alright, then, um, everypony else, um.” Spike looked around the group, from Pinkie Pie to Rainbow to Applejack to finally Rarity.

“The rest of us will mingle with our guests,” Rarity suggested. “Socializing with the students should stave off some of the boredom and buy some time for you and Pinkie.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rainbow Dash said as Applejack beside her nodded in agreement.

“Okay.” Spike took in a deep, calming breath. “We can do this. Let’s get in there and—“

“Everypony! Listen to me!” Fluttershy’s exclamation cut through the discussion, silencing the group and drawing their complete and collective attention. The pegasus allowed her breathing to slow to a more moderate rate and herself to calm down. “There’s a giant hot air balloon outside.”

Seconds passed in silence as the group tried to process the words that had just been spoken. “Beg your pardon?” Applejack said.

“There’s a giant hot air balloon outside,” Fluttershy repeated. “It’s right above the courtyard.”

Spike’s stare was incredulous. “A giant hot air balloon? You sure?”

Fluttershy nodded. “It’s covered in bright, flashing lights so it’s pretty easy to see. There’s music coming from it too.“

“A lost traveller perhaps?” Rarity considered aloud. “Or some sort of publicity stunt?”

“Awful late for either ballooning or advertising,” said Applejack with a frown. “But I can’t think of any better reasons why there’d a hot air balloon with lights and music out and about at this hour.“

“Well we’re not going to figure any of this out standing around inside.” Rainbow leaped into the air, and with a quick flap of her wings, she was airborne. “Come on, let’s see if it’s still out there.”

The rest of the group followed Rainbow Dash out into the courtyard. Crowds of students were murmuring wildly and pointing upward, all with their necks craned and heads tilted toward the evening sky. ”There,” Fluttershy whispered, directing the eyes of those around her with her hoof.

”Good golly,” Applejack breathed as others dropped their jaws or gasped at the sight of the floating behemoth. Too surprised to play the pedant, Spike didn’t bother correcting Fluttershy, that the massive transport above had long since left the hot air balloon classification and had settled comfortably in the category of airship. A good portion of their view of the sky was taken up by the ship’s yellow mass, and those flashing lights, alternating between yellow and pink, threatened to outshine the stars.

“Shot in the dark, did any of you plan this?” Rainbow Dash asked. There was a show of head shakes in response.

Spike squinted at the ship, moving his head here and there as he searched for a better angle. “I don’t think it’s moving.”

“Maybe one of y’all with wings could check up on them,” Applejack suggested.

“Good idea. Rainbow, you’re the fastest out of all of us, wait.” Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a pony? What are they—“

Screams from the students fill the air as the pony-like figure leapt from the ship’s deck and sent themselves plummeting to the ground. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Spike, and several winged students readied themselves, their wings spread and knees bent as they prepared for takeoff. Before any of them could take flight, however, a clump of yellow cloth and material shot out of the being’s back that expanded and inflated into the shape of a large rubber chicken. The being’s descent slowed to a leisurely float, and the entire courtyard now packed as those indoors went out to see what was all the commotion watched the being make their way to them.

The gala goers scattered to make room for the being, a stallion they could now determine, and his rubber chicken. He landed with a form that might have impressed even Rainbow Dash had he not suddenly tripped over his own feet as he attempted to bow. He didn’t stay down for very long, having bounced right back on to his feet, and with a shared look of apprehension, the six members of the School of Friendship faculty present approached the newcomer. He was a lanky fellow wearing a yellow shirt, and as he removed his helmet he revealed a messy brown mane, nearly as wild as Pinkie Pie’s, and the widest, brightest grin.

“Heya, party animals!” he shouted, throwing his forelegs into the air. Confetti somehow bursted out of the ground around him. “Are you ready for a good time?”

“Cheese Sandwich?” all six exclaimed with a mix of confusion, shock, and, in Pinkie’s case, relief.

“What are you doing here?” asked Spike, his manners forgotten in his surprise.

The stallion laughed. “Well, Pinkie Pie asked me to be here of course,” he said with a wave directed at the pink earth pony before pulling out an opened envelope. “She sent me this letter telling me about how you were all having this huge party, love the name by the way, prom, prooom and needed my help getting it all set up.”

“Oh.” Spike winced, the enthusiasm radiating from the stallion becoming painful. “So, thanks for showing up, but, um, you’re kind of late.”

“Late? What are you taking about?” Cheese Sandwich zoomed over and threw a foreleg around Spike’s shoulders. “Looks like the party just started,” he said with a chuckle. “I mean, I know I didn’t make the date Pinkie sent me, that was my bad, I had a little trouble getting to Ponyville, but that wasn’t even the date of the party, and I’m here now. Come on, what’ll need old Cheese to do?”

“Everything!” Pinkie Pie answered before anyone else could. “We need everything. Pull all the stops, and stat. We’ve got bored party guests here.”

“Bored guests?” Cheese Sandwich gasped. “Oh boy, this is serious. Let’s get to work. Where’s your party cannon?”

“At home,” Pinkie said glumly. “I wasn’t allowed to bring it.”

“Not allowed? What kind of party is this?” He pressed a hoof to his lips and let out a loud, shrill whistle. A pair of colorful artillery pieces parachuted down to him and Pinkie. The two looked to each other, and a smile slowly creeped across Pinkie’s face.

“Let’s get this party started!” the two screamed, and with a tug at the trigger the cannons showered the courtyard with confetti, streamers, and balloons. At the table of refreshments, the trays of cheese cubes and crackers were blown away and replaced with stacks of cupcakes, bags of chips with containers of dip, and much much more as the clear liquid in the punch bowls became bubbly and carbonated, with one turning purple and other bright red. Loudspeakers fell from the sky belting out heavy beats and loud dance tracks along with a completely inflated bounce house shaped like Twilight’s castle as Pinkie and Cheese stirred something into the fountain water, turning it chocolate.

And all Spike could do was watch as the gala, all that planning and time, the sacrifice he foolishly made, devolved into chaos. His legs turned to jelly, and he fell on his backside.

“Spike!” Rarity rushed to the dragon’s side. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, just, yeah.” Spike swallowed. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

“Well, no one’s looking bored anymore,” Rainbow noted, gesturing to the crowds of cheering students dancing to the music. “So emergency dealt with?”

Applejack ducked her head just in time to dodge the beach ball that had been tossed in her direction. “Doesn’t look like much of a gala anymore, though.”

“Should we try to stop them?” Fluttershy asked, barely audible over the noise.

Spike’s voice eluded him for several moments before it finally returned. “I don’t, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we—“

A geyser suddenly erupted from the fountain and out of the fountain stepped a long snake-like being drenched in chocolate. The creature gasped for air. coughing and pounding their chest as liquid cocoa was expelled from their ears and nostrils, inciting grimaces of disgust from the dragon and the four remaining mares. As the creature shook off the excess chocolate, a set of mismatched limbs was revealed, with a scaly lizard leg paired with the leg of a goat and a raptor’s talons with a lion’s paw. The horns on the being’s head were just as absurd, there being both an antler and the twisted screw of a goat horn

“Discord?” the six sans Pinkie Pie exclaimed with a mix of shock, apprehension, and, mostly from Rarity, continued nausea at the chocolate still leaking from the draconequus’s facial orifices.

A pair of misshapen yellow eyes sprouted from the goat horn with a loud pop. The horn cracked open, and from the opening grew a single fang. “Eh, not exactly,” the horn spoke in Discord’s voice.

“That could’ve gone better,” grumbled the rest of the draconequus, their voice different from the horn’s, more feminine and with more snark than smugness but still oddly familiar. The draconequus wiped off the last of the chocolate, and there on the creature’s head was Twilight Sparkle’s mulberry face with her ever recognizable look of irritation.

“Twilight?” Applejack said slowly, the first one to recover. “What’s going on? Why’s your head on top of Discord’s body?”

The strange amalgamation sighed as they brushed down their body, revealing the purple fur of Twilight instead of Discord’s brown that they were familiar with. “It’s too long and complicated to explain right now. We need to—“

“Oh please,” the goat horn scoffed, “what’s so long and complicated about us having to share a body to escape Tartarus after Tirek and that brat of an ex-student, I blame the lack of corporal punishment by the way, managed to steal exactly half of both our magic and left us to rot after we solved the friendship problem they were having.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on a sec,” Rainbow Dash said with a hoof raised. “Are you saying Tirek and Cozy Glow are out? Like out-of-Tartarus out?”

If a horn could ever look smug, this one certain did. “Well, no, I certainly didn’t say exactly that, but I do hope that was heavily implied. Because I most certainly was implying that.”

“But all of you should’ve known this,” Twilight’s voice said, becoming frantic as the gestures the body was making as it spoke. “I sent Spike instructions to evacuate and inform Princess Celestia in my last letter. Didn’t you get it?”

All turned to Spike. “Um, was that the letter you sent on the day we had finals scheduled for?” he asked.

“It might have been.” The draconequus with Twilight’s face nodded. “Yes, yes, I think so. Why? Did something happen?”

Spike and Applejack shared a quick glance. “Not important, not when we’ve got a pair of power hungry, magic stealing villains running amok,” Applejack said. “Twilight, I’m thinking we—“

The airship above burst into flames with a resounding boom.

Chapter 13

If one were to hazard a guess as to what was being taught at Princess Twilight’s School of Friendship, the safest answer would probably friendship, being that it was in the name after all, and they’d be right, for the most part. See, a subject as broad and complicated as friendship requires multiple approaches of teaching, and this can, and has, lead to overlap in other, more traditional school subjects. Learning the history of the world and its nations, for instance, provides a global perspective on friendship and relationships as well as demonstrating examples of friendships from the past in action. Given that not all friends will be of the same species or even of sapient nature, one must know the the behavioral characteristics of different creatures to better befriend them, which requires the sciences of biology and its derivatives. The importance of letters in the development of long distance relationship means having to teach and improve writing prowess and reading comprehension. Even physical education could be justified as being an application of teamwork and practice of proper sportsmanship through, well, sports.

And of course, how else would one determine the minimum rate one would have to accelerate at in order to catch up to their friend who lives six and three-fifths of a kilometer away before lunch at twelve forty-five PM if their friend were to leave their home at ten in the morning at a steady pace of three point seven kilometers an hour moving west and they left their home twenty minutes after with an initial speed of two point two kilometers an hour in the same direction without the wonderful world of mathematics?

There were however many a time where a disgruntled student would take a step back and question the point of learning the names of all those mystic artifacts that when brought together for a certain specific ritual could sap the land of all its magic or having to run half a dozen laps around the track or being pelleted by rubber balls. The often unsatisfactory answer provided in response to such frustration was that one day, who knows, it could be very soon, those students would find themselves in circumstances where that knowledge would prove useful, even vital.

As the students in the courtyard scattered and dodged the scorched and still burning debris falling from the sky, many were becoming grateful of the laps they had to run and the games of dodgeball they had to endure, though it was doubtful any amusement was to be found at the moment in proving their teachers, namely Rainbow Dash, right.

One particularly large piece crushed the bounce castle, releasing its air and setting it aflame, and out of the burning wreckage stepped out a centaur, his hooves covered in soot and ash in his beard. He turned his head and looked around the courtyard, stroking his beard as he savored the fearful features the beings before him gave in his presence. He took another step forward and the crowds flinched and took a step back. A cruel grin spread across his face at the reaction.

“Why, what’s this?” he said mockingly, forcing his raspy voice over the crackling of burning wood. “A party in honor of my long-awaited return? How absolutely touching. And what’s this?” Tirek pointed a long, spidery finger at Spike, the four mares, and draconequus. “Friends of Princess Twilight Sparkle, here to greet me? What an honor indeed. Only, hmm.” His eyes lingered on the Twilight-Discord fusion. “Odd, you I don’t recognize, and I would certainly remember if there was a second draconequus.” He shrugged, not bothering to wait for a response. “Well, it doesn’t really matter.”

Tirek raised a hand, and as he did so, they all rose into the air. He let out a low chuckle as he watched them struggle fruitlessly against the invisible, intangible shackles holding them in place. “Once I’ve drained all the magic this school has to offer, the rest of Equestria will soon fall,” he said, sneering. “Don’t worry, you’ll all soon join your dear princess in Tartarus once I’m through with you.” And with that declaration made, Tirek, his arms stretched out to the sides and his chest puffed up and out and open to the world, threw back his head and laughed.

It made him an easy target to whomever threw the cupcake that landed squarely in his eye. There was a lull as the entire courtyard held its breath and watched the centaur scowled and slowly wipe the frosting from his face and crushed the tiny cake in his fist. “Who dares?” he growled, turning away from the ones trapped before him to face and glare at the surrounding students. The crowd stood silent, and so, receiving no answer, Tirek could only sniff and coldly flick off the frost still clinging to his fingers and shake away the sticky crumbs. “Well, no matter. There will be time to deal with the rest of you later. There are more pressing matters to—“

A second cupcake flew through the air and found a place in Tirek’s other eye. Then came a third cupcake, then a fourth followed by a tart and a couple of miniature pies. Soon, a salvo of treats, from slices of cake to bowls of salsa to piping hot cookies and brownies with melting ice cream, was raised and launched from every direction and all towards the same red and black target. Cheers, battle cries, and eventually jeers and taunts sang out from the students as their unrelenting assault continued. One of the punch bowls, the one with the purple drink, was expertly tossed onto and over Tirek’s head, covering it like a helmet as the liquid spilled over his face, neck, and shoulders. Suddenly, Spike and Rarity, Rainbow Dash and Applejack, and Fluttershy and the amalgam of Twilight and Discord fell back to the ground, the spell holding them in place no longer sustained as its caster struggled to stand his ground against the barrage of refreshments.

“Come get some, you party crasher!” Cheese Sandwich shouted over the din as he doused the centaur in melted cheese spraying from a hose the stallion could barely keep under control. Beside him was Pinkie Pie, firing ball after ball of cake and party favors from her borrowed cannon, each one striking true and with enough force to cause Tirek to stumble. With the back of his hand, Tirek removed the mess of frosting, cake, and fruit punch from his narrowing eyes only for the effort to be wasted as a new layer quickly formed to replace the first. The hand clenched into a fist, his jaw tightened.

“Enough!” Tirek roared, rearing up and slamming both of his front hooves down. The impact of his hooves left small craters and cracks and released a shockwave that knocked everyone standing onto their backs and into walls and those who had taken flight down to ground. With eyes shining red with rage and fists shaking in anger, he glowered at the pony-pile consisting of Pinkie, Cheese Sandwich, and a mess of confetti, cake, and cheese. Tirek’s lips twisted into a snarl, and he raised his hand, palm open to the sky. A ball of fire ignited the air between the centaur’s fingertips, and it was growing larger and hotter by the second. Soon the ball reached the size of the centaur’s head, and the cool evening air had been displaced by the smothering atmosphere of a furnace.

A wicked grin returned to Tirek’s face. He held the fireball up over his head, his glare still focused on Pinkie Pie and Cheese.

“No!” screamed out Twilight’s voice as the draconequus body reached out with their paw. Tirek’s fireball disappeared with a blinding flash of light and a deafening bang that drowned out the cries and yelps of those caught in the flash. Slowly, the low buzzing in their ears left, their hearing returned, and the draconequus could hear the moans coming from just about every direction, left and right, back and in front, above.

“Ngh, what in Equestria happened?” Applejack muttered beside them.

“I don’t know,” the draconequus said in Twilight’s voice. The light was starting to fade, and they could start making out blurs and shapes. “Is everyone alright? Pinkie Pie?”

“I’m okay!” the pink blur above her assured. The draconequus rubbed at Twilight’s eyes and squinted. At last, sight returned, confirming that yes, Pinkie Pie was indeed floating a couple of meters in the air along with Fluttershy, Cheese Sandwich, several students who waved, some drink cups and napkins, and the cannon Pinkie Pie had been using except now it was made out of a bunch of balloons tied and twisted together into the shape of the artillery piece. As they looked up at those floating above, they also took note of the sky, which was, quite strangely, no longer the dark blue one would expect of night but an earthy shade of green with yellow and pink spots.

“Hmm,” the goat horn purred. A long white goatee had grown out of it, right below the opening that was operating as the horn’s mouth. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Whoa. What’s going on?”

The draconequus shook their head. “I don’t know, Applejack, but at least it doesn’t look anyone was hurt from that blast.”

“Um, Twilight? I’m not Applejack.”

The draconequus looked down to find Rainbow Dash at her side, taking in the current condition of the courtyard. “Wow, what a mess. Wait, whoa!” Rainbow grabbed at her throat as Applejack’s voice escaped it. “Whoa,” she said again. “Whoa. Apple. Apple. Ah. Pull. Howdy howdy howdy.”

“You can go ahead and knock that off right now,” came Rainbow Dash’s voice. The two turned, and before them stood Applejack frowning in annoyance. “What in tarnation is going on here?”

Rainbow started to laugh. “Oh, oh. That sounds so dumb without the accent.”

“Your voices, they switched!” the draconequus gasped in Twilight’s voice. “How did this happen?”

“You sure?” the horn asked. It had sprouted a pair of brushy eyebrows over its eyes and was currently having one raised. “Seriously, they sound so similar, I can’t tell the difference. Does that make me a bad friend? Fluttershy, tell me that doesn’t make me a bad friend.”

“I mean, you could make more of an effort to learn the differences,” said Fluttershy as she floated by.

“Yeah, seriously,” Pinkie exclaimed in agreement. “It’s not that hard. That’s like saying you get me and Fluttershy’s voices mixed up.”

“Hey!” Spike interjected with a shout a bit of a distance away. “Could we get some help over here?”

“And please hurry,” Rarity added from the same direction. “This is becoming excruciatingly uncomfortable.”

Everyone looked to Spike and Rarity in the center of the courtyard. Besides having his suit covered in dust, Spike was no worse for wear, but Rarity appeared to have been caught beneath a piece of the stone fountain. No, not caught beneath, further review revealed, but a part. Somehow, someway, Rarity’s lower half had fused with the stone, her hind legs visible on the other side of the fountain, kicking futilely as Spike tugged at her forelegs. And there, barely an arm’s length away, was Tirek slowly steadying himself as climbed back to his feet. He took a dazed step toward the trapped unicorn and the dragon trying to help her, and as the centaur took another step, Rarity began to shriek.

“Spike, run!”

The sight of the approaching Tirek drove a wave of desperation through Spike. Seeing that his attempts at pulling Rarity out were proving pointless and only causing her more pain than relief, he released Rarity’s hooves and changed his method. Instead, he drove fist after fist into the surrounding stone, slamming his bare knuckles that were protected only by the natural layer of dragon scales as hard as he could against the fountain. Cracks were beginning to form in the stone but too slowly and too thinly, and Spike’s claws were already starting to ache as badly as his ears from Rarity’s panicked pleas for him to flee. Exhausted, Spike let his arms, heavy from his attempts to break Rarity free, fall to his sides, and with a resigned sigh, he turned to face the approaching centaur.

Spike experienced a stubborn and rather inappropriate sense of disappointment at himself when he found himself having to look up at Tirek and discovered that despite all the growing he had done these past years, the villain was still a good deal taller than him. Tirek, from his lofty stature, looked down at the young dragon facing him and smirked. He stared at Spike’s shaking fists, still dusty and sore. He raised a hand.

Spike was faster. He opened his mouth, and from it a torrent of green flames was released, directed up at the centaur’s face. Tirek cried out as the emerald firestorm consumed his entire upper torso, his raised arms serving as poor shields as the flames wrapped past them. A cheer was shouted out, starting from a certain orange dragon and quickly spreading until every being in the courtyard was calling out Spike’s name, encouraging him to push forward, to release every last bit of fire his body held. All that he had learned during those fire breathing contests with Smolders, the techniques she shared and his own personal experiences, Spike put them all to the test. His chest grew tight, and his lungs started to sear, but he powered through the pain, forcing himself to maintain the flames even as his body begged him to stop.

Despite everything, however, no matter how much effort he put in, the fire became weaker as he reached his limits. Desperation and the desire to protect his friends had numbed the pain but only that, and his body was suffering from such reckless disregard to its wellbeing. His lungs felt like they were about to collapse, and he was growing dizzy from the lack of oxygen. And as the flames lost intensity, becoming less and less with each passing moment, more of Tirek’s features could be seen with a disturbing lack of higher degree burns. Tirek’s mouth could now be seen, and Spike’s eyes widened at the sight of his flames being drawn into that maw as if being pulled in by a vacuum. With each green spark consumed, the centaur grew larger, his chest widening as his pectorals expanded, his arms thickening with muscles, and the difference in their heights increasing drastically.

Spike shut his mouth and cut off the flow of his magic fire, but he had recognized his folly too late. Struck by a delayed wave of light-headedness, he fell to his knees and coughed up smoke. Tirek roared with laughter, the raspiness of his voice replaced with a commanding deepness that better fit his new form.

Rainbow Dash leaped into the air, but before she could get any closer to Spike, Rarity, and Tirek, something clamped down onto her tail and yanked her back.

“Dang it Rainbow,” Applejack called out to the pegasus lying dazed on the ground as she spat out threads of rainbow colored hair. “I get that you’re worried, but don’t go charging in like that without a plan. You’ll just end up making things worse.”

Rainbow shook her head to clear it and scowled. “Well we can’t just sit here and watch. Twilight, there’s got to be something you can do. Isn’t there some spell you could use or something?”

“Believe me, I wish there was, but this body’s so strange and bizarre, so chaotic, I don’t know where to even begin. It took me two whole days to figure out how to travel through chocolate milk, and Discord said that was the easiest spell he could teach me.”

“Yes and you couldn’t even pull that off right,” the horn said with a sigh. “But why don’t you try anyways? The results should be amusing if what happened with Tirek’s fireball was any indication.”

“Tirek’s fireball? Wait, Discord, are you saying I—“

“Tirek’s stopped laughing,” the horn interrupted with a seriousness that was chilling to hear in Discord’s voice. “Twilight, you need to do something, anything, now. No no, I know what you’re thinking. Stop it. Stop thinking about saving our friends and just do it.”

The draconequus looked to Rainbow and Applejack who could only offer shrugs. “All right, here goes.” The lion’s paw was raised and pointed at Tirek.

“That’s it,” the horn whispered. “Now.”

The draconequus took in a deep breath. The paw’s digits pressed together. “Just do it.”

Tirek took a step toward Spike and Rarity just as there was a loud snapping sound and a brief flash. The crowds stared, many blinking in disbelief at the sight they were beholding, a sight so ridiculous most would have joined the goat horn’s laugh or at least have had to try and suppress a snicker had the situation been less dire. Spike’s own jaw fell as the imposing centaur standing over him now wore a pink dress some sizes too small with puffy shoulders and lace trimming along the sleeves and skirt.

With a growl, Tirek grabbed the front of the dress and ripped it off, shredding it into little more than a pile of rags before Rarity’s eyes. All those hours, all that time and effort, the sacrifice she foolishly made, now fit for little else but the mopping up of spills. She had little time to dwell on the dress’s senseless destruction as Tirek continued his march toward her and Spike, who struggled to lift himself from his knees.

Rarity’s horn lit up, and a discarded ribbon came to life. It snaked around Tirek’s hind legs and tightened itself into a bow. The centaur simply stretched his legs, and the ribbon snapped apart.

“Now,” Tirek grunted. “Where was I?”

The centaur disappeared, and in his place was a massive saffron, scaly fist. Those nearest could still see Tirek’s hooves twitching beneath the giant closed claw, and all shuddered as a thunderous roar echoed through the town and the night sky.

”THAT WAS MINE!”

Chapter 14

It was a meaningless task really, sweeping. The mess in the courtyard was so great, with bits and pieces of charred airship lodged in the earth and so much discarded food all over the ground and on the walls of the surrounding buildings and good heavens where did all that melted cheese come from, there couldn’t possibly be enough dairy producing farms in Equestria, one dustpan full of confetti wasn’t going to make much of a difference. Not that cleaning up was very high on anyone’s priority list to begin with, not when there were reports to the princesses in Canterlot to be made, a broken centaur to return to Tartarus and his stolen magic to process, and traumas to address, particularly a certain dragon who required consoling after her violent but most certainly opportune spurt of greed-induced bigness.

Perhaps the most pressing matter was the utter lack of news on Cozy Glow. No one had seen hide or hair of the self-proclaimed Empress of Friendship at the incident, which meant there was one more dangerous tyrant bent on world domination out there at large making Equestria a more perilous place. Search parties had to be organized and the guard had to be roused and readied, and with all that in mind, it was pretty understandable that just about everyone forgot about the post-prom cleanup.

Everyone but Spike.

It was tedious, tiresome task, sweeping, and it wasn’t exactly something Spike found much pleasure in doing. Younger Spike would have found more enjoyment in griping as loudly as he could about the job and making arguments on how his guardian’s magic made all his efforts moot, and while Spike had long since grown out of throwing tantrums as a means of escaping his chores, his feelings toward the task hadn’t really gotten much warmer than begrudged acceptance, no matter how fascinating Twilight found it was that the broom handle seemed to have been made for his claws. However, after everything that had occurred, not just in the last couple of hours but from the past few weeks as well, after all the craziness and awkwardness and worry, Spike needed something dull and mundane to focus on, and with Twilight finally back and in her own body separated from Discord, Spike was free to sweep without all those head of the school responsibilities hanging over him.

There was certainly something refreshing about once again having someone qualified and, more importantly, not him in charge and with the restoration of the established chain of command came a much welcomed sense of normalcy. Whether his brief tenure as headdragon had gone any poorer than his attempt to fill in for an exhausted Princess Twilight Sparkle during that one Grand Equestria Pony Summit was debatable, at least this time there wasn’t a mob of angry ponies pointing their hooves at him or a lecture on the abuse of power. It didn’t really matter. Finally, it was all over, and Spike could return to his old post as number one assistant, to his old duties, and given time, life in Ponyville and the School of Friendship would return to how it had been before, just as it had after every other disaster. After all, it was just another day, with just another villain, leaving just another messy aftermath for Twilight and her associates to clean up.

Well, at least that’s what Spike kept telling himself as he pushed the broom along, hoping that if he believed in the lie hard enough, that everything was back to normal, it would become true. Because otherwise, it would mean having to accept that some things had changed. It would mean recognizing that night as what it was, a complete and utter failure and an end to a stillborn dream. It would mean having to move on.

That was the catch in an easy and monotonous job like sweeping. While relatively stress-free, it did leave his mind with little stimulation to occupy itself with, and an unoccupied mind had a tendency to wander into places one would rather avoid, digging up things best kept buried and forgotten. Try as he might, Spike couldn’t silence those nagging voices telling him off for foolishly hoping that by some miracle everything would fix itself on its own, for thinking they could just return to their old friendship like nothing had happened. It wasn’t fair, the voices argued, not to Rarity nor to himself, not after all the years they had been together as friends and certainly not after what he had done to her.

The worst part of having argument with yourself? Knowing that all those voices you’re fighting with are yours and yours alone. And knowing that they’re right.

Spike stopped sweeping to look around and see just how much he had accomplished. It wasn’t very much, every corner of the courtyard was still covered in tiny squares of colored paper. It wasn’t even worth trying to describe it in a fraction. Spike had expected as much, but still he released a tired sigh. He took a moment to stab the broom down into the ground and leaned against the handle. His eyes shut for a few seconds, just for a quick rest.

Someone was approaching, a pony if those hoofsteps were any indication. Spike opened his eyes to find Rarity walking toward him with a pair of paper cups. The dust in her coat and the wrinkles in her clothes did little to diminish her appearance, at least to Spike. Even with her mane as disheveled as it was, Spike still found her breathtaking, though there was now something bittersweet in his appreciation.

Rarity held a cup toward him. “I brought you some water.”

“Thanks.” As he accepted the cup, Spike saw the bandage wrapped around her left hind leg. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A bit stiff,” Rarity said. She rolled her shoulders and winced as she tried to arch her back. “Especially my back, and I’m having a little trouble moving this leg.” She shook the bandaged leg. “But nothing too concerning. What about you?”

“Me? I’m good. My throat’s a little sore, and I’m kind of worn out, but I’ll be fine.” Spike rubbed the front of his neck, no longer restricted by a tie. “Yeah.”

“Oh. That, that’s good to hear. Yes.”

“Yeah. Um, yeah. All good.”

A familiar silence had returned and settled between the two as they distracted their tongues with sips of water and directed their gazes to the starry night sky or at the debris littering the courtyard, really anywhere besides at each other’s eyes. And during it all, Spike’s conscience continued its browbeating, urging him to speak to the mare next to him, to finally address his mistake. Spike took another sip of water. He had until his drink was finished, he promised himself, let him have at least that much time. Spike took another sip. The cup was now half empty. He took another sip. The bottom of the cup could now be seen. He took another sip. Only a few droplets remained.

He raised the cup to his lips one final time. The cup was empty, no more excuses. Spike crumbled the paper cup in his claw and inhaled.

“Spike?” Rarity began. “There’s something I, is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Spike managed to wheeze between coughs, having choked on the breath he had held. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Spike, I just wanted to say.” Rarity swallowed. “Thank you, for staying with me back there. It was brave of you to try and stand against Tirek like that.” She bit her lip. “To protect me.”

“Well, of course I would. I’d never abandon you. Oh, uh, I mean.” Spike looked away, ashamed. He mumbled something under his breath, something Rarity couldn’t catch.

“You’re a wonderful friend, Spike. I’m sorry, I should know you wouldn’t have left any of us in danger.” Rarity hesitated, her head lowered. “Not even after what I did.”

“What you, Rarity, what are you—“

“Spike, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was so caught up in designing Smolder’s dress, and then she came to me unannounced, and we had to get all her measurements down, and then all of a sudden everyone and their mother was in my shop looking for dresses and asking for my help, and I know it just sounds like I’m just trying to make excuses, I’m not, I should have kept track of time or turned them away, and now it just sounds like I’m rambling, and instead of talking to you about it I’ve just been avoiding you all this time, and, and—“

“Rarity, calm down,” Spike exclaimed, cutting the mare off as he took hold of her shoulders. “I’m not getting any of this. What do you mean? What are you even apologizing for? If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. And I am.” He took in another deep breath and let his arms fall to his sides. “Rarity, I am sorry, so so super sorry. It doesn’t matter why it happened, it still happened, and I let it happen, and if you never forgive me, I’ll understand. I just, I just need you to know, you still mean everything to me, really, and I’m sorry for missing our date.”

Rarity blinked. “Missing our date? What are you saying? I’m the one who failed to show. I’m the one who kept you waiting. I even saw you leave the auditorium, and like the coward I was, I didn’t even try to apologize or explain.”

“But, but I just got there in time to watch the audience leave. And when I couldn’t find you, I thought, you mean you hadn’t already left?”

“What, the auditorium?” Rarity shook her head. “I had only just arrived when I saw you exit the stands. But then—“

Spike was approaching the same realization. “That would mean—“

They sighed together, a duet of weeks worth of exhaustion and frustration being released at long last in a single exhale. And for the first time in a long while, their eyes locked with no attempts to break contact. “Was it the gala organizers?” Rarity asked as a smile slowly made its way over her face.

Spike returned the smile. “Yeah. They showed up late and were a huge stickler about everything. Not that it did much good,” he added, taking a quick glance around the destroyed courtyard before returning to the mare before him. “What about you? What happened?”

“Smolder, well I suppose there’s no point in keeping it a secret anymore, she commissioned a dress for the prom. She showed up that afternoon to help with the design and for the measurements, then her friends came too and need help picking out their own dresses and with the fittings. One thing led to another, and I just lost track of time.” The smile wavered. “Spike, please forgive me.”

“But that’s your job. You shouldn’t have to apologize for doing your job,” Spike protested. “And I’m just as bad. I let those gala planners blabber on through the night even when I knew I was running late.”

Rarity let out another sigh. “We should have just rescheduled.“

“Yeah,” Spike agreed with a chuckle. “Missing the show would have been a letdown, but at least we could’ve save ourselves from all of this awkwardness. So.” Spike cleared his throat, his claws grabbing at a tie that wasn’t there. “Um, so.”

“Yes, Spike?”

“I don’t know, maybe this is a little too sudden after everything we just went through. Just, I was wondering, could we maybe, you know.” The dragon winced. “Try again? Like next Saturday?”

“Oh Spikey, I’d love to, but the next fashion season will be starting soon, and I have to begin preparing. I’m afraid I’ll be quite busy.”

“Oh, oh right. Th-that’s cool. Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Rarity said with a small smirk. “I was going to say I need more supplies and would love to invite a certain dragon out for a little gem hunt, let’s say Wednesday, two weeks from now.”

“Yeah? I mean, yeah, of course I’ll—“

“As more than friends.” Rarity’s smile widened as Spike’s eyes did. “It won’t be as romantic as a candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by a show, but we can still have a nice little picnic, just the two of us. Just, ah, if something unexpected does come up, anything at all, let’s promise to tell each other instead of having a repeat of the past few weeks.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Spike said, nodding just as another set of hoofsteps announced the presence of newcomers. He and Rarity turned to face the musicians hired for the evening, accompanied by their instruments. “What’s up?” Spike greeted.

“I do hope we’re not interrupting anything important, but my...” Octavia Melody seemed to struggle with finding the right word to use. “...colleague has brought something to my attention. I understand that we were paid to play for the entire evening, but seeing as the event has come to a, shall we say, rather premature conclusion, I believe our obligations have been fulfilled.”

Spike’s confusion must have shown as the unicorn behind Octavia lifted those dark purple glasses she always wore to show her rolling eyes. “Can we go home?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, thanks for everything. Actually, wait!” Spike stopped the two from leaving. “Could you play one more thing. Just this one last thing, and then you can go.”

Octavia looked to her partner who simply shrugged and started setting up her equipment. “I suppose,” she said as she stood her cello up and readied her bow. “Anything in particular?”

“Something slow,” Spike said. Bending at the knee, he held out his claw toward toward Rarity. With a giggle, Rarity placed her hoof into the open claw. And under the stars and the moon, the two danced, guided by the soft melody of the cello and the synthetic rhythm of the record mixer.

Chapter 1

There exists a certain saying, one whose origins have long since been lost to even those as ancient as the dragons, not that dragons cared for the survival of such history, that has fallen from sagely advice and direction passed down from generation to generation of sweet-talkers, seducers, and the necessary evil we group lawyers and politicians to a ridiculed cliche used only as a writing clutch for half-bit smut authors and those degenerates that pervert original works to fit their own twisted narratives. Despite the stigma the phrase now carries and the inevitable wave of groans that follows its utterance, most ponies, at the very least, have heard the saying, “The eyes are the windows to the soul,” or something along the lines.

Some speculate that the decline of this phrase correlates with a rise in questions on the nature of the soul. Now depending on the ideology of the being asked, a soul may or may not exist, and it may or may not be the most important and defining part of an individual, and it may or may not only inhabit the bodies of ponies and separates ponies from the rest of Equestria’s creatures and as such is undeniable evidence of pony supremacy. It could argue that this ambiguity is what eventually shook the collective faith in the wisdom of the idiom.

That’s not say, of course, that the saying isn’t completely without merit. Much can still be discern about an individual based on the movement of their eyes, and it has been said that when you can’t trust the mouth, look to the eyes for the truth, advice applicable for both everyday social interactions and the more cutthroat engagements of business dealings and judiciary settlements. In Equestria and its surrounding lands, eye contact continues to be an important sign of trust and honesty, and perhaps that is why out of all of Equestria’s sapient creatures, changelings are perceived as the least trustworthy. Well, that in addition to the whole history of kidnapping and espionage.

See, while ponies, griffons, hippogriffs, yaks, and even dragons share a similar structure in their eyes, changelings do not. Unlike the aforementioned creatures, whose eyes consist of a simple black pupil centered within a colored iris surround by the milky white sclera, changeling eyes have neither sclera nor easily discernible pupils, making it somewhat difficult for one to determine what a changeling is looking at beyond a direction.

Even to this day, Smolder still had trouble determining what the changeling across from her was exactly focusing on. Oh sure, after spending all these years together as fellow friendship pupils, it was obvious to the young dragon that Ocellus, perfect student that she was, was focused on the assigned project before her, but that was the extent of what Smolder could deduce. Was she staring at the stack of cloth next to her foreleg, the delectable rainbow of gems peeking out of their shared sack, the needle of the sewing machine rapidly stabbing into and retreating out of the nearly finished handkerchief that was to be given to her as a gift at the end of class, Smolder couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t something Smolder normally took interest in, but it served as a somewhat adequate distraction from the delicious gemstones begging to be eaten and from the depressing excuse of a gift she had been trying to make for Ocellus. Like her partner, Smolder had decided to make a custom handkerchief, with all those unnecessary frills and sparkles ponies seemed to enjoy, but at some point the needle of Smolder’s sewing machine broke against her scale-enforced claw, and by the time she noticed, there wasn’t enough time for a replacement. Dragon determination and stubbornness may have contributed to her survival in the harsh lands she considered home, but they provided nothing in Smolder’s attempts to salvage the project. Her manual attempts at stitching with what was left of the needle were uneven, too thick in some areas and barely existent in others, and the thread continually threatened to loosen and escape, hold the entire project for ransom without placing any demands. The heart of aquamarines and rubies Smolder managed to arrange and refrain from devouring had barely been in shape when she initially positioned them and were now so out of line Smolder was sure she had invented a new shape.

It soon became apparent to Smolder that saving the project was beyond her meager abilities, and a quick glance at the clock sitting on Professor Rarity’s desk told her that there wouldn’t have been enough time even if she had the talent, so Smolder spent the last few minutes of class practicing her apology to Ocellus, brainstorming means of making it up to her, and generally just trying to distract herself from imagining Ocellus’s disappointed face.

“Time’s up!”

Smolder, though she would’ve denied it if confronted, jumped a little in her seat at Rarity’s sudden exclamation, the unicorn’s voice shrill enough to heard over the hum of the dozen or so sewing machines without becoming too unpleasant. The unicorn had been patrolling the classroom as her students worked, giving advice only when prompted and even then her directions were uncharacteristically vague and of little use. “Please turn your machines off and set down the supplies.”

“Already? But Yona not finished yet!”

Smolder glanced over her shoulder to gawk at the impossible patchwork quilt the yak had somehow created within an hour. Her amazement was evidently shared as a few students began mutter in hushed reverent tones.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid we are out of time. This isn’t your only class for today, after all.” Rarity chuckled softly as she approached the front of her room. “Now, please present your, ahem, present to your partner.”

Smolder took a deeper breath and tried to smoothen out the cloth that had crumpled within her claws. “Alright, let’s do this.” She turned to the changeling beside her. “Hey, Ocellus?”

Ocellus has been in the process of neatening the scattered supplies. She looked up, and for a short second Smolder thought she saw a flash of fear in the changeling’s feature. Her smile was just a little too tense and the dragon felt that those pupil-less eyes were a bit too wide, maybe a little unfocused, it was difficult to say for certain, but before Smolder could consider it further, any hint of discomfort in Ocellus’s appearance had vanished.

“Hey, um, Smolder?”

The caution in Ocellus’s voice, however, was obvious. Something was making the changeling nervous, and the first explanation Smolder could come up with was a distressing one. Try as the dragon might, Smolder couldn’t squash the wave of disappointment she felt toward the creature before her, the changeling she considered her friend. At the same time, however, there was a separate wave of disappointment and shame directed at herself, and Smolder did little to defend herself from it.

As much as she loved being a dragon, greed-induced bigness really sucks, and Smolder stopped trying to defend its evolutionary benefits in times of want after personally ruining two Hearth’s Warmings and several birthdays.

Smolder rubbed the back of her head and looked away. “Look,” she said, “you can keep your handkerchief if you want.”

“Y-you don’t want it?”

The changrling’s entire body seemed to droop. The drastic change in body language and the devastation in her voice shook Smolder, and the dragon turned back to face Ocellus so suddenly both winced at the audible crack.

“No, ow, no, that’s not what I meant,” Smolder stammered. “I mean, I want it, kind of, but not in a want it, want it sort of thing, because, you know, and I thought, I mean, it’s just a piece of cloth, no, it’s more than that, I just meant it’s not, not that it’s not special or anything, but it’s—“

Smolder let out an exasperated noise, something between a strangled scream and a whimper, before slamming her head into the desk with a loud thud.

“Smolder, are, are you okay?”

It was a foolish question, and both creatures knew it and its very obvious answer. Instead of lifting her head, the dragon simply lifted a weary claw. “Here,” she mumbled, waving the accursed handkerchief that had given her so much trouble. “Yours.” The cloth slipped through Smolder’s grasp far too easily, her lack of resistance atypical to a dragon’s common reaction to the removal of their possessions.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Slowly, Smolder rolled her head onto its side. “I know, it looks like—“

“It looks amazing!”

Ocellus grimaced as Smolder fell back in her seat, scattering the leftover supplies Ocellus had tried organizing about in every direction. “Wait, what?” exclaimed Smolder as she picked herself up. She glared at the handkerchief Ocellus now held, trying to find what of the crudely stitched and poorly decorated cloth had impressed the changeling. Finding nothing, Smolder turned to Ocellus with a questioning look, her mouth slightly agape and a brow raised. “Huh?”

Ocellus’s all too wide smile crumbling into a genuine grin as she broke into a giggle. “Well, okay, maybe amazing is a little strong, but it’s still better than mine. Er, yours, I mean, the one I made.”

Ocellus slid her project forward and watched as Smolder’s eyes grew wide. If she hadn’t known beforehand, Smolder would’ve never guessed that there was a handkerchief somewhere beneath that mountain range of gems and sparkles. Every inch of cloth had been covered by something shiny or sparkly, and the utter lack of coordination hurt even Smolder’s relatively untrained eyes, with colors clashing violently in a manner that could only be described as a deliberate form or visual torture had it been done by any creature besides Ocellus. Glitter and smaller gemstones escaped as Smolder attempted to lift the collage, which was surprisingly heavy considering its size.

Ocellus rubbed the back of her head. “I know you like gems, but I kind of went overboard.” She laughed softly. “Anyways, you, well, you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want it.”

“You kidding?” Smolder scoffed. “I love it.”

Ocellus perked up immediately. “Really?”

“Okay, love might be too strong,” Smolder admitted, gesturing with a shake of her claw, “but you’re crazy thinking what I got you is better.”

“Well, I guess it’s a little, um.” Ocellus held up the cloth wrinkled with claw marks, already fraying at the stitchings. “At least I can tell what it’s supposed to be. And I really like the, uh, the, hmm.”

Smolder watched Ocellus traced the odd outline of blue and red gemstones with the end of her foreleg. “It’s supposed to be a heart,” explained Smolder. “Or, you know, at least, that weird pony symbol of one.”

“Oh, I see it now!”

“No you don’t.”

“No, not really.”

The two added their laughs to the rest of the room. Rarity allowed herself a prideful smile as she looked around the classroom at her satisfied students and their admittedly less than satisfactory gifts. The unicorn released an internal sigh of relief. The lesson had been a success, and all it took were some frighteningly inferior supplies and a little bit of sabotage; the warranty on the machines had expired moons ago anyways. She clapped her hooves together, drawing the class’s attention. Now came the hard part, the lecture. “Who can remind the class what we spent yesterday’s lesson reviewing?”

Several hooves and forelegs were raised, but Ocellus was quickest. “When it comes to gifts, quality is second to effort.”

Rarity tried to keep composure as her words were recited back at her. They had sounded deep and meaningful when she first said them, but hearing them now set her teeth on edge. They were a little too, oh what was the word? Cheesy? Cliche? Trite? They probably would have sounded better on paper, as a letter in the form of a report perhaps, a characteristic that could describe most of her attempts at formal lecturing, even after all these years of practice.

Still, that didn’t diminish the lesson importance.

“That is correct,” Rarity said, “and I hope today’s activity has demonstrated this to you all. For, well, most of you at least...” Rarity nodded to the traditional yak patch quilt draped over a young pegasus mare’s head. “Many of you may not have been entirely content with the present you were to, ahem, present to your partner.”

There was a collective nod from the students along with a couple of murmurs of realization.

“And yet, based on the reactions I’ve seen, all of you appear quite happy with the gifts you’ve received.”

More faces lit up as realization and understanding dawned upon the class. Rarity seemed to feed off of her students’ growing excitement and found herself suddenly pacing in front of the blackboard to spend the excess energy. “There is more appreciation to be found in a gift that the giver has given heart to...” (she briefly considered adding soul before finding the whole thing a little too tacky even for herself and adamantly refused to include the word sweat) “...than an extravagant one with little effort or thought placed into. Though, a little quality is always nice,” Rarity added with a short chuckle. She stopped pacing then turned to the multitude of impressionable eyes.

“There’s a common phrase ponies use, it might not be as well known among other creatures, that in regards to gifts, it’s the thought that counts.” Rarity returned to her seat behind her desk. “More often than not, it’s used to lessen the blow of disappointment, as an excuse for poor gifts. Well, I hope this little exercise of ours shows how true that saying is. After all, it is through our thoughts of whomever the receiver is that drives us to work towards the best gift we can possible give!”

The shrill ring of a bell echoed through all the school. Rarity, now breathless, dropped her pose and slowly climbed off her desk, fighting the blush creeping over her white checks. She cleared her throat. “Ahem, well, look at the time. That will be all for today, class is dismissed. If you have any questions, you know when I’m available. Oh, and a reminder from the headmare,” she added as the students cleared their desks and made their way out the room, “your final friendship thesis is due at the end of the month. I know that seems far away, but let’s not leave anything to the last minute!”

The last word left her lips as the last of her students left the room. Rarity let the silence linger before releasing an exhausted but relieved sigh. She walked between the desks, her horn glowing as she swept the floors for glitter and such. A thorough inventory of the leftover gems and cloth would have to be taken, and the sewing machines needed to be moved. A small part of Rarity had wished for a small incident, for a reason to detain a delinquent student after class and have them clean the room up instead of her. At least this was her last class for the day so there was no real rush.

“I’ll have to see if anypony else is busy,” Rarity muttered to herself as she began to lift one of the heavy machines. Even with her magic, the machine struggled to move. “Another unicorn would work wonders, or maybe Spike...”

As she let the machine fall, the door to the room swung open. In the short second between the door opening and the door opener stepping inside, Rarity had removed any trace of sweat from her brow, banished the dust from her front hooves, and returned her mane to its perfectly arranged coiffure in a manner that may have even impressed a certain pink party pony on an off day.

A dragon stood before her, bipedal like Smolder but with purple scales instead of orange ones and a good couple of inches shorter. He slowly approached, his claws fidgeting with the leathery membrane of his wing. “Hey, uh, hi Rarity,” he said with a small wave.

Rarity’s practiced smile widened, and she allowed herself to relax, letting her shoulders lower. “Spikey!” she cooed. “Oh, would you come to my rescue and help me move these machines please?”

“Help you?” Spike’s back straightened, and his head raised, his odd nervous demeanor gone and replaced with eagerness. “Yeah, of course!” He picked up one of the sewing machines off its messy desk. “Where do you want this?”

“Over there in that corner,” Rarity answered with a gesture. “Oh, and do be careful, they’re quite heavy.”

“Got it,” Spike grunted. He started toward the area directed, passing by Rarity as the unicorn made her way to the desk to clean it. She looked up once the desk had been cleared of glitter and gem dust and saw Spike already moving his third machine. While she was no stranger to the physical strength the little dragon possessed, having used him as an entire team of luggage porters multiple times, Rarity still found herself impressed by how effortless Spike made the job seem.

Well, maybe little wasn’t the right descriptor anymore. He now at the very least stood up to her eye level, and his shoulder width expanded and became bulkier as his wings grew larger. His body now better reflected the maturity he occasionally shared, more often than not hidden behind childish tendencies. Despite his physical growth, however, Rarity found that the baby dragon she knew was still very much present, still always there to lend a friend a helpful claw.

“Hey, Rarity?” Spike said, unknowingly waking the unicorn from her reminiscing.

“Yes, is something the matter? If it’s about the gems here, I have much better ones for you after we’re done.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s uh, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. You see, I...” Spike reached down to his side. Color left his face, his natural purple replaced with a much lighter shade. “Oh no.”

“Is something the matter?”

“No, no, just give me a sec,” the dragon assured as he began to twist and turn, patting his hips and sides frantically. “Come on, where is it?”

Rarity sighed. “Let me reword that. What, is the matter?” she asked more directly.

“Nothing, it’s, uh, just something I’ve been wanting to ask, but I just, I just had it. We’ve, uh, known each other for, come on, a while, and, uh—“

The classroom door opened once again, and in stepped a griffon, his blue feathers ruffled and the light tan fur on his front unkempt as usual. “Hey, Spike, er, Professor, I found these with my test scores.” Gallus held a pair of scarlet tickets in his talons. “Yeah, figured you might want—“

“Rarity, please go out with me!”

Spike’s claws immediately rose to his mouth, covering it seconds too late as the outburst rang through the classroom. His features reddened, and smoke billowed from his ears and nostrils. The air grew oppressive with silence, daring any of the three to break it. Reluctantly, Spike looked to Rarity and found her face unreadable as any emotion or thought the unicorn may have been having was hidden beneath of mask of shock and surprise.

It was Gallus’s footsteps that finally ended the silence. The griffon laid the tickets on the floor, then slowly backed out of the room. As the door shut, Rarity found her breath.

“Ah, well.” She swallowed, but the clump in her throat refused to budge. Before the unicorn could recover, Spike had taken a step forward and held up the pair of tickets Gallus had left behind to her.

“So, you’ve probably already heard, but the Method Mares are coming to Ponyville,” Spike said.

“Oh, yes.” Rarity took the tickets. Indeed, the symbol of the theater group, two ponies wearing those classic masks of comedy and tragedy, was stamped on the face of both, right next to the image of a silver treble clef and and gold bass clef on top of the sun and the moon. “Testing the waters, so to speak, of a collaboration between them and the Canterlot Choir. Or so I’ve heard. Rumor has it that they’re performing some sort of musical adaption of Daring Do.”

”Actually, it’s Shadow Spade.”

“Really?” Rarity’s eyes grew wide. Spike had to step back as Rarity approached with excitement. “Is it The Colt of Crimson? The Aviator’s Affair? Ooh, ooh, could it possibly be Poaching of a Prince?”

“I, I think it’s an original story. They’ve got the series’s author on board, but I don’t know anything else.”

“A mystery before the mystery!” Rarity giggled. “How—“ Rarity quickly composed herself, taking a deep calming breath. “How intriguing,” she said more steadily. “And you were planning...”

“I wanted, er, want, I would like to see the performance with you,” Spike said. “You know, together, the two of us.”

“Of course, that sounds—“

”As more than friends.”

There was a lengthy pause, then, “Oh.”

“It’s just...” Spike took a deep breath before continuing. “I really like you, Rarity. I love spending time with you, no matter what we do. And, I want a chance to, to show you how much you mean to me, and I don’t think, I can’t do that with how we are now. As just friends.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, it’s kind of, sort of, maybe, weird?” The last word has hesitant. “I’m a dragon, you’re a pony. You’re, ah, I’m a bit, er, well, there’s a bit an age gap, and we’ve both got stuff going on.” Spike looked away. “A-anyways, I’m not looking for, you don’t need to answer right away, take your time. It’s a lot to take in, so I’ll just, go and—“

“Yes.”

The single word froze Spike in mid step. “What?”

“I, yes, I said yes.” Rarity tried to appear indignant, but the best she could muster was a small pout. “Honestly, Spike, I thought you’d look happier.”

“I am, I mean, I will, just—“ Spike slapped his cheeks and gave them a hard rub. “Okay, just, I wasn’t expecting, a, you know.”

“An acceptance?”

“A response. I mean, I thought, I figured you’d need some time to think about it,” Spike said. “Just, and you said yes, wow. This is, this has got to be, wow. Okay, so the show’s in the evening so there’ll be time for dinner first. Is there anything you’d want to eat? I’ve got some bits and a few gems leftover, or I could make us something.”

“First, perhaps we could finish cleaning up.” Rarity gestured to the still messy desks and the remaining sewing machines.

Spike blushed and tried to laugh away his embarrassment. “Yeah, of course,” he said before returning to work.

Chapter 8

Rarity was one of those individuals who were defined by their career and appearance. Her ambitious drive and dedication to her trade were apparent when considering the history of her business, from its humble beginnings in a small rural town to its expansion into the most competitive and current fashion districts in Equestria. Her considerable creativity was demonstrated by her wares and her very presence in the fashion world; one did not make a name of themselves amongst the likes of Hoity Toity, Photo Finish, and Prim Hemline by being an unimaginative bore after all. Her appreciation toward beauty extended to her own person as demonstrated by the effort and time she spent styling her mane, applying her eyeliner and lashes, and picking out the perfect mix of accessories that best complemented the rest of her outfit.

Ambitious, creative, very very pretty, and for those who either knew her personally or were in the know of her position as the bearer of the Element of Generosity, generous, those were the words often gravitated towards when describing the mare Rarity. Reasonable and rational were not. That’s not to say she wasn’t reasonable or rational, though admittedly she did experience the occasional bout of hysteria, most in her field of work did. It just isn’t all that common to describe another individual in such terms except at a few very specific institutions. Unless otherwise stated, an individual’s logicality is more or less implied, and bringing up the subject would in all likelihood raise more questions than answers.

Rarity would like to think herself as reasonable and rational, despite the aforementioned bouts of hysteria along with her inclination to speak in hyperboles. Was it unreasonable to agree to a date with an old friend who shared her feelings? No. Was it irrational to desire secrecy on the matter to avoid the unwanted strain and stress the gossip surely arising regarding the differences in species, age, and positions in life would have placed our their blossoming relationship? Of course not.

And so it was up to the completely reasonable and rational Rarity to calm the panicked Spike and assure him that their date wasn’t completely ruined and none of what had happened was any of his fault, no matter what that overly emotional part of her brain cried. Dinner had to be canceled due to the Grand Galloping Gala organizing committee’s untimely intrusion and Starlight Glimmer’s unanticipated leave of absence, much to their mutual disappointment, but it was hardly the worst possible thing. Like Rarity assured Spike, there would still be plenty of time to meet up at the theater, catch the show, and enjoy a wonderful evening together.

A perfectly reasonable and rational response, though wishing a plague upon a certain show magician may have been a tad dramatic, however understandable considering the circumstances.

And so the fateful day arrived, beginning not all too much more differently than any typical Saturday would, with the rising of the sun, the song of birds, and Rarity taking her time to make her bed and put away her nightgown. The dragon holding a small bouquet of flowers at her doorstep was a welcomed surprise, as was the short melody he hummed for her to the beat of his guitar strums. It was the least he could do, he tried to explain, given that there wouldn’t be time to pick her up from her house, and she assured that even if that been an issue, he more than made up for it. Then, with a tender kiss on his cheek, Spike reluctantly left, called by the school he was suddenly responsible for. There was still much to be done before the gala organizers arrived; the itinerary needed to be drawn out and ready for presentation and the courtyard had to be cleaned and prepared for their inspection.

Rarity would have offered her assistance, but there was much that had to be done on her end as well before night fell. Books needed keeping, inventories needed reviewing, trends needed predicting, the boutique needed tending, and it felt like forever since she last produced a new design. Success, Rarity reminded herself, could be a fickle thing, especially in the fashion industry, and she couldn’t afford complacency if she wanted to remain relevant in her field.

So the fateful day continued, the hours passing away as Rarity tackled the chores and responsibilities before her. The boutique was opened and readied to receive customers, the orders and requests from her Canterlot and Manehattan locations were reviewed, and Rarity had finished compiling her list of supplies and materials to restock and putting away her freshly cleaned laundry just in time to catch the late noon sun rise to its peak.

She broke for lunch, enjoying a small fruit salad with a fashion magazine on the side. It was an older issue from a commercial publication, directed more toward consumers casually looking for the next trend to follow than the future trendsetters looking for insight and inspiration, and while every dress depicted on its pages was well-made and even beautiful in some cases, nothing caught Rarity’s professional eye. It all felt too safe, the styles already so proven and without risk, their modest market success a guarantee. It all brought to mind her discontinued Princess Dress and the soulless assembly line it spawned. Still, it was nice to be reading something other than a friendship report for once, and her drive to create something bold and new was growing stronger with each second she continued to expose herself to such adequacy.

Her most recent sketchbook flung itself open in her presence. She turned to the last used page to refresh herself on her previous projects and perhaps build upon any old unused designs. The sketches Rarity found surprised her, and it took some time and staring before she recognized the crude bipedal figures on the page and their purpose. Dragons, Rarity discovered, were a little trickier to draw than ponies, with their upper torsos and arms that operated independently from their legs and that vertical backbone that made absolutely no anatomical sense.

How Spike and Smolder were able to walk around as they did without constantly falling flat on their faces was a complete mystery, a mystery Rarity found herself pondering as she considered Smolder’s dress and the challenges the differences in their bodies and hers presented to the dress’s production. The dresses Rarity was familiar with were made for ponies whose horizontal structure gave what articles of clothing they chose to wear plenty of body to brace against the pull of gravity. Not so with dragons or any other biped however, with only the shoulders and maybe their arms to cling to. That meant needing more material around Smolder’s shoulders and longer sleeves in order to shift the bulk of the dress’s weight onto those areas and hold it all in place. Failing to do so would be just begging for a wardrobe malfunction in front of dozens, an embarrassing nightmare for any gala goer.

Next came the midsection, which would be the simplest part, just a connection between the upper and lower parts of the dress like with all her more conventional pieces except with stronger material and extra stitching so to avoid tearing apart under the additional strain and pull. Finally, there was the dress’s bottom. A shorter skirt would be most practical in this situation. Less material meant less weight and strain for the top to compensate. Additionally, a shorter bottom would reduce the amount of motion-restricting fabric Smolder and the only two legs she had to balance on would have to deal with.

Rarity lifted her charcoal pencil off the page and frowned in disgust. The design before her was so top heavy, it reminded her of a mushroom. And the skirt at the bottom was far too small, not even reaching the drawn dragon’s knees. The tail, oh Celestia, and she had forgotten to take the tail in account. With the skirt at its current height and the dragon tail getting in its way, Smolder’s, ahem, posterior would be completely exposed, attracting the sort of attention Rarity doubted Smolder would’ve appreciated.

Shaking her head, she crossed out the current design and begun anew. She tried to picture Spike in his suit. As far as she could recall, there weren’t any special paddings around the shoulders or anything suggesting a manipulation of weight toward the area just below Spike’s neck. The costume Rarity had made Smolder for their play to Princess Celestia also lacked any unique modifications. Granted, a dress was far more complicated than either a jacket and shirt ensemble or the plain magus outfit, but perhaps she was making the weight distribution and balance a far greater issue than it truly was. In any case, it was clear she had gone too far and overcompensated.

So less material on the top, more for the bottom. Rarity again considered Spike and his wardrobe. The aprons he appeared so fond toward were kept in place by a pair of cloth strips, one wrapped wrapped loosely around his neck and the other tied behind his back. Could something like that be applied here? Shoulder straps could possibly work, they’d certainly be more appealing than a hoop of fabric thrown over Smolder’s head and around her neck, but would they be enough to hold up an entire dress? She couldn’t be sure. Rarity returned to her mental dissection of the apron’s design. What if she extended the front to cover the sides and the back of the wearer, then add to the hem to form a skirt? Suddenly, Rarity’s pencil froze. Her eyes widened as they recognized what had been drawn.

A gown, much like the ones she had made for her and her friends for their first Grand Galloping Gala. It was so obvious, why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? Light, easily supported, and not too restrictive, a gown was the perfect option, with an open back for her wings and the skirt down to her ankles to ensure full coverage of her tail. Black would be the safest color, few creatures didn’t look good in black, but the dark color made it harder to appreciate any designs stitched into the cloth. A light blue would work well with the color of Smolder’s scales, as would a subdued shade of pink such as salmon or magenta. And the front, a pattern of yellow topazes would make a perfect decoration across her chest. And from the waist down, what about the outline of a dragon in flight, as powerful and alluring as the wearer herself. And why not do away with the shoulder straps and go for a completely strapless variant by tightening the cloth around the torso and midsection to keep the gown in place?

It was bold and attractive, even on paper, and Rarity felt herself on the brink of salivating at thought of starting such a project. There was still the matter of receiving Smolder’s measurements and approval, but Rarity was confident the dragon would be as pleased as she was with this design.

A loud knock dragged Rarity back to reality, and she suddenly realized just how dry her throat was and how sore her back was. How long had she been in that position working away? It must have been a few hours at least, maybe even longer. It wasn’t unheard of for her to spend an entire day making notes, drawing out the details, and reworking certain features of new designs. A horrible thought came to mind, and she rushed to the closest open window, ignoring the protests from her stiff and tired back.

Still plenty of sunlight about. Rarity released the breath she held. To think she could’ve lost track of time on today of all days. She closed her sketchbook and removed her glasses just as a second knock echoed through the shop. As she made her way to the door, stopping at a mirror along the way to tuck in the stray strand of mane hair and make sure her appearance was presentable, she consider the possible identity of the being outside.

Spike was at the top of the list, probably just checking up on her in anticipation for tonight, maybe to invite her to a late lunch. A third thud at the door suggested otherwise, too impatient for him, or for Fluttershy, the only other member of their tight circle of friends currently present who would have bothered knocking; Applejack and Rainbow Dash would have walked right in once they’ve realized the door was open, and Pinkie Pie, well, no one could predict what Pinkie would’ve done. It could have been an unexpected customer, somepony just looking for a dress to buy, maybe even another one of her students, but the shop was clearly open so why the knocking?

The entrance came into sight just as a fourth knock rang out. “Coming,” Rarity sang out, trying to keep her growing annoyance at her guest’s lack of patience out of her voice. She spent the last few seconds between her and the door practicing her salespony smile, as professional and welcoming as possible, then, once there, opened the door.

“Welcome to the Carousel Boutique, where everything is chic, unique, and magnifique,” Rarity sang as the bell attached to the door rang out. Before her stood a rather nervous dragon constantly looking over her shoulders with a changeling at her side.

“Yes, I’m sure no creatures watching us,” Ocellus was in the middle of assuring before noticing the unicorn in the open doorway. “Oh, good afternoon, Professor Rarity.”

“Ocellus and Smolder, what pleasant surprise,” Rarity greeted. She stepped to the side. “Please, come inside. Ah, this isn’t about schoolwork, is it?”

Ocellus thought for a moment. “Well, while I’m here, there was—“

“It’s about the dress,” Smolder interjected. “You know, the thing we talked about earlier, and I was supposed to come over for measurements and design ideas and stuff.”

“Right, of course.” Rarity paused. “Was that supposed to be today?”

“You just said to come over anytime,” Smolder explained.

“Yes, right. I did say that.”

The slight pursing of Rarity’s lips did not go completely unnoticed. “Is now not a good time?” Ocellus asked.

“Oh, no, of course not. Well, it’s just.” Again, Rarity looked outside. “No, never mind, there’s still plenty of time. In fact, now couldn’t have been better. Smolder, I’ve come up with a design idea I’m dying to show you.”

She led the two inside the foyer and hurried back to her personal workstation for her sketchbook and pencil, a small notebook, a roll of measuring tape, and some fabric samples of various shades of blue or pink. When Rarity returned, she found the both of them on the couch whispering away as they leafed through the shop’s catalogue. “Is everything alright?” Rarity asked, more to get their attention than to gauge their status. “Does any creature need any water?”

Smolder immediately looked up. “No, yeah, we’re fine,” she said, rubbing her arm nervously. She looked to Ocellus who was still looking through the catalogue.

“There’s so many dresses in here,” Ocellus exclaimed, “I don’t know how anyone could decide. Professor Rarity, did you come up with all of these?”

“But of course,” Rarity answered. She allowed herself a prideful smile. “Every last one a Rarity original, and a few are exclusive to this location. Are you considering on buying a dress for the school gala?”

“The prom? Oh no, I’m just here because Smolder asked me to be,” Ocellus said. “But, maybe, do you have any I could try on? After you’re all done with Smolder, I mean.”

“Certainly. Now, to business.” Rarity turned to Smolder and opened her sketchbook. “Now, do understand, right now it’s just a sketch, just so we get an idea on what we like and are looking for before we actually start sewing cloth together only to decide after it’s all done that it’s not at all what we expected and have to scrap the whole thing and start from the beginning.”

“Does that last part happen often?” Smolder asked.

“Often enough,” Rarity said with a sigh. Then, with a clap of her hooves her features brightened, and she placed the book on the coffee table in front of Smolder. “Anyways, here we are, designed specifically with you in mind. Thoughts?”

“Is it supposed to look like a mushroom with a giant X over it? I mean, I’m not the fashion expert here but—“

“On the other page, dear.”

“Oh.”

“And these are the colors I believe would work wonderfully with the color of your scales.” Rarity laid the samples of colored cloth next to the book. As she did so, Rarity stole a glance at her guest, trying to read Smolder’s facial features and body language for some hint of how she felt. What she found, the slight stiffness in the dragon’s arms, the smallest of frowns, the growing silence, left Rarity discouraged. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s nice, I guess.”

That was the worst sort of compliment.

“It’s just, it’s not what I had in mind. I was hoping for something, you know.” Smolder raised a claw to her mouth and coughed. “Cuter.” She gestured Ocellus toward the page.

The changeling shrugged. “I think it’d look nice on you. It reminds me of something one of those pony celebrities like Sapphire Shores would wear, something elegant and powerful and confident.”

“But not.” Again, there was a cough. “Cute.”

“No, not really,” Ocellus agreed.

“Oh, right.” Rarity offered an apologetic smile expressing a small fraction of the embarrassment she was feeling. “You did mention something about that. I’m so sorry, I was so caught up in the moment I completely failed to take that in account.” She turned to the sketchbook’s next clean page. “Is there anything in particular you were expecting?”

“Not really, I’m not great with this kind of stuff.” Smolder rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean, I have this idea of what I want, I’m just having a hard time describing it. Like, I think I was expecting, I don’t know, sleeves.”

“Sleeves?” Rarity repeated, the tip of her pencil hovering right over the paper.

“Yeah, sleeves. Long one, down to my wrist. And also those puffy shoulders and a really big skirt thing.”

“Longer than the previous design?”

“Yeah, and wider.” Smolder held her arms out to demonstrate. “You know, like, uh.” She turned to Ocellus. “Kind of like the dress the Tree of Harmony made me wear when it tested us that one time. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

Rarity raised a hoof to interject. “I’m sorry, the Tree of Harmony made you wear a dress?” she said slowly as she tried to process the image of the majestic, magical tree forcing Smolder into a dress with its roots like a filly would with a doll. “When was this?”

“It was a while ago, during our first year,” Ocellus explained. “I think we promised Cozy Glow we wouldn’t tell anyone, when we thought she was just another student, and it just never came up after that.” She shrugged before returning her attention to Smolder. “Anyways, I don’t think I ever saw you in a dress.”

“You didn’t? But I know some creature saw me in it. I mean, I think someone did.” Smolder frowned before shrugging as well. “Whatever. Anyways, yeah, I want a big puffy skirt.”

“Very well.” Rarity and her pencil paused. “And was there anything specific you wanted in terms of decorations? Any patterns perhaps or special materials? Colors?”

Smolder tapped her chin as she consider the question. “Well for color, um, I was thinking, maybe pink.” She looked over the light red shades in front of her. “But a little brighter than these. And can I get that soft lacy white stuff that goes on the edges of the sleeves?”

“You mean lace trimming?”

“Yeah, that, and also around the collar. And maybe some ribbon bows, with a large red one around my waist that ties up at the front. No wait, at the back, yeah the back, and some smaller bows on the skirt’s bottom, maybe along with some lace trimming, and some around, no, on the shoulders. And, and, uh, I mean.” Slowly, Smolder returned to her seat, leaning as casually as she could appear with her face red and flushed against the couch’s back. “Or whatever. Something like that.”

“Uh huh.” Rarity, setting the pencil aside, sat up and revealed the new design for all in the room to see, to her slight reluctance. Even as she applied her charcoal to paper, she knew the end result would be a messy and overly complicated affair. There was nothing wrong with Smolder’s ideas individually, but as a whole there was just too much going on, and not everything worked well together. It reminded her of a filly’s first imagined bridal dress, a collage of everything pretty with no rhyme or reason to the placement of its pieces, but to Smolder’s credit, she had the awareness to grimace at the design, which was much more than most fillies or five certain mares once upon a time could boast.

“Wow, that’s, uh, wow.”

Rarity smiled knowingly. “It’s not exactly how you pictured it in your head, is it? Don’t worry, it never really does.”

“Maybe the bow should’ve been at the front,” Ocellus offered. “And I don’t think you need both lace and ribbons at the bottom.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Smolder folded her arms and looked to Rarity. “What do you think? You’re the expert here.”

The seamstress gathered her thoughts. “Well, it’s a bit busy,” she began. “There’s a workable concept in here somewhere hidden beneath it all, we just need a little focus and refinement. But let’s leave this here for later.” Rarity closes the sketchbook and set it aside, and in its place was the measuring tape. “I’m sure we could all use a quick little break from the whole designing process. We can use this time to refresh and take care of those measurements of yours.”

“Okay.” Smolder got to her feet and stretched. “So what do I need to do?”

“There’s a side room that will afford us some privacy. We’ll take the measurements there,” Rarity explained before turning to her other guest. “Ocellus, will you be needing anything of us while you’re out here?”

“Actually, I was wondering.” Ocellus held up the catalogue she had been perusing. The dress it was opened to was an older creation, with a beautiful gradient of blues for its body decorated with vines and flower buds stretching from the ends of the sleeves upward. The transition to the skirt, made with various shades of green and spots of white silk that reminded one of a leaf still wet with morning dew, was facilitated by a bright belt of satin that gave the impression of a massive water lily.

“Ah, the Water Filly,” Rarity said, her voice light with nostalgia as she was brought back to the day of her Canterlot Carousel’s grand opening and to the hours she spent at the royal water gardens. “It would look rather nice on you.” She walked past the mannequins and returned with two racks packed with dresses. “Ah, here we are,” Rarity declared as she removed that particular dress from the rest and presented it to Ocellus. “The changing room is on the left, and if there’s anything else here that catches your eye, don’t hesitate to try it on.”

“Hey, Professor?” Smolder called out from the room she was directed to. “Is there a light somewhere?”

“Yes, one moment. Goodness, it has gotten dark.” A quick flick of a switch and the foyer was illuminated before Rarity continued on. Again, Rarity hit a light switch, then led Smolder inside the now lit room. “Stand over there, please,” she instructed, pointing to the room’s center. “Back straight, head high.” With her magic, she extended her measuring tape from Smolder’s heel to the top of the dragon’s head.

“Height is,” she muttered as she read the measurement aloud before jotting it down in the small notebook she had taken from her workstation. “Now, how should I, hm, could you stretch out your arms, please?”

“Like this?”

“A little higher, that’s it. Thank you.” The measuring tape wrapped itself around Smolder’s waist, causing her to snort and wiggle. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t aware you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” Smolder insisted, though her blush said otherwise. “I’m just, not used to this.”

“Of course. I’ll try to be gentler. Could you raise your arms higher?” Again, the measuring tape moved, this time slowly constricting around Smolder’s chest. “Hold your breath for one second. Very good. You can let it out now. Let’s see, we still—“

The bell at the door rang out, announcing the arrival of new guests. The measuring tape retreated back into a roll. “One moment please,” Rarity called out before turning to Smolder. “I’ll be right back. You can take a seat and relax.”

She returned to the shop’s entrance to find Ocellus bashfully posing in the dress she had chosen in front of a familiar hippogriff and yak cheering and encouraging her on. “Okay, okay, I think that’s enough,” Ocellus giggled. “Oh, Professor Rarity.”

“Welcome girls, to Carousel Boutique,” Rarity greeted. She took a moment to appraise Ocellus and smiled. “You, now you look absolutely fabulous.”

“Th-thank you,” Ocellus said, demonstrating to the world that changelings could indeed blush.

“And what can I do for the two of you?” Rarity asked the newcomers.

Silverstream threw a claw into the air and waved it. “Ooh, ooh! Pick me!”

“Darling, we’re not in class, you don’t have to wait for me to give you permission to speak out. And for that matter, while you’re all here, you can drop the professor title,” Rarity added with a side glance at Ocellus. “When I am in my boutique, Ms. Rarity or just Rarity is fine.”

“Okay. Just Rarity, do you have anything like that we can try on?” Silverstream asked, gesturing to Ocellus and her dress. “It’s so pretty and, and, Yona help me out.”

“Yona also think Ocellus look very nice in dress,” Yona declared after a moment of deliberation.

“And very nice,” Silverstream agreed with a nod. “You should definitely wear that to prom.” She suddenly gasped. “I have the second best idea ever. We should all wear the same dress to prom together!”

The suggestion set Rarity’s teeth on edge. “I, wouldn’t advise that.”

“Really?” Silverstream tilted her head to the side. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s, I suppose it’s, wearing something someone else is wearing at a gala is considered bad form. Why don’t the two of you see if there’s anything else here you might like?” Rarity pointed Silverstream and Yona to the dresses on the racks. “The dressing rooms are over there, to the left, and I have additional ones in the back if you need more options.”

“More options? There’s already so many to choose from.” Silverstream began to browse. “This one? Maybe this one? Oh, I want to just try on every single one.”

“Yona have question for dress making pony professor,” Yona exclaimed. She gestured Rarity closer and lowered her voice. “Yona not sure Yona yak body fit pony size dress.”

“Ah, I see. I do have some larger options that you might find more agreeable.” Rarity hurried to the back of the shop and returned with another rack just in time to see the door open and a earth pony stallion and a grumpy looking griffon step in.

“I’m telling you, I don’t need a suit,” Gallus grumbled. “Really, you don’t need to do this.”

“Come on, you can’t be serious. Hey Professor Rarity,” Sandbar exclaimed, waving. There was something draped over his back. “Tell Gallus he can’t go to the prom without a suit on. That’s like gala one oh one.”

“Well, it is traditional—“

“See, tradition.” Sandbar grinned triumphantly. “Can’t argue with tradition.”

“I break with tradition every second by just being here and breathing the same air you’re breathing,” Gallus argued.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Sandbar turned to Rarity and set down the bundle that was on his back. It unraveled to reveal a dark blue jacket and a white collared shirt sewed on the inside, a common ensemble for stallions wanting to present themselves with class and grace but too lazy to put any effort in achieving such and thus easily satisfied with a cheap appearance of such. At least the tie wasn’t a clip-on, Rarity noted.

“I know you make dresses and stuff, and this is probably a pretty weird request,” Sandbar began as Gallus rolled his eyes, “but could you do something to my extra suit for Gallus? He doesn’t have anything to wear for prom, and I don’t think there’s any place in Ponyville that sells suits for griffons.”

“Well, suits are not exactly my forte, but I suppose that’s a simple enough job,” Rarity said as she examined the suit more closely. “Yes, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll just need to take some measurements and—“

The door to the side room opened. Smolder’s head stuck out. “Hey, Professor? Are we still—“

All eyes turned to Smolder who at the sight of the sudden crowd retreated back inside and shut the door. “One moment, please, and I’ll be right with you,” Rarity requested before heading toward the side room. As she entered and closed the door behind her, she sighed.

“Alright, Smolder, let‘s continue,” she said, preparing herself for what was looking to be a very busy evening.