Hearts Of The Millennia

by LemonDrizzle

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Romance, Spike
Length: 15703

A sad/romance story between Spike and Celestia.

When you live forever, what do you do with your time?
Do you love and lose, win and fall, hope and curse?
Do you seek to outrun the truth or face it valiantly?
Twilight Sparkle is dead, never to return, never to smile or pout or have that twinkle, that sparkle in her eyes again. Twilight Sparkle is dead and together, two creatures born with eternal life, two creatures brought together by sorrow and circumstance must try to overcome the simple fact that she is dead, that she has passed on and left them all alone.

But perhaps, through death and the passing of a loved one, something else can bloom from the ashes.

I absolutely detest writing out descriptions for my stories because I suck at capturing what the story is truly about in them.
Anyway, this is my first romance story, involving Spike and Celestia, so it's a peculiar couple indeed.This is also my first truly sad story so I hope I captured some feels.

Published 2012-08-13 23:24:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-20 17:08:25 UTC

Chapter 1

Chapter 1- In Which Sadness Occurs

You will live forever.

Those four little, unassuming and yet deadly words had haunted her life for as long as she could possibly remember, always at the edge of her mind, constantly watching her every move. There was no denying the truth, no point attempting to run from it or escape its grasp but that didn't make it any less painful, even now, thousands upon thousands of years in the future, it had not gotten any less painful. When you have all of eternity to do whatever you may wish, to grow bored, or fat, or lazy, to turn violent, or peaceful or magnificent, what would one do with their time?

Fight. Rebel. Lead an uprising. Those were her earliest memories and yet she knew, she just knew that she had been around for much, much longer. She just knew that behind what her mind had declared as the beginning of her memory, there lay so much more to learn, to know and to regret. From what she could remember of so, so long ago, they together, her sister and her, were locked in a seemingly endless duel with a mismatched monster that sought only destruction and never ending strife. She had no idea how long these battles had raged, she had no true wish to know how long she and her sister had fought in vain, mortally injured almost constantly and yet never dying, even when those around them sank away like sand through an hourglass.

She did not truly wish to know how many they had lost to the claws of time, how much destruction the three behemoths of power had wreaked upon the land, how much time passed between the reign of chaos and the sparkling, flaring bursts of uprisings. All she needed to know was that over time, her and her sister had discovered a temple of sorts, filled with such riches and treasures, with so much wealth and power and yet, without truly realizing what they had done, they had abandoned the gold and the silver and the platinum in place for two glittering, multicoloured necklaces that seemed to latch upon their skin. She could still remember their first touch, the first time the cold metal had moulded to her neck for it was not a feeling easily forgotten. It both burned with the fire of suns and chilled with the force of a darkened moon. It was ancient and forever and it had flooded the both of them with such power, such determination, such powerful harmony that they had emerged from the temple after only a singular day, greeting the blue sky and pink clouds with steely enthusiasm. And then, before they could truly comprehend what had gone on inside that temple, inside that vault of wonders, they had been whisked away by a force more powerful then they could have ever sought. The force of convergence and the force of change.

Together, twin sisters and bearers of old magic, they clashed once more with the sinister demon that had sat itself upon the throne to rule over all. Together, they had fought valiantly and daringly and, together, using the powers of the mysterious golden necklaces that seethed with strength and magic, they had sealed the monster behind bars of desolately cold stone. They had all of time to fight this demon, this monster, this similarly eternal beast and they had accomplished their task quickly, perhaps too quickly. What more would there be to do now that the spirit had fled the throne, what more could be sought then the task that they had decreed and accomplished so swiftly and brutally?

In the end, it had not been her and her sister that had initiated what was next for the eternal twins, no, it had been the citizens they had saved, the ponies they had freed from a tyrannical and barbaric reign, that had placed them on the throne to rule the land they had protected and defended so powerfully, so mightily and, in the beginning, it had seemed like a saviour to the endless and looping question of what is next for her and her sister, the joint sisters ruling together for years on end, never ageing and never failing in their duties. She had watched, sadly and yet with tinges of acceptance, as her citizens, as her precious ponies, melded her image towards one they needed, they yearned for and, for their joy and happiness, she had accepted this new mould, this new mask of the pony she once was. She accepted to wear a façade, to hide herself behind a false skin so that her subjects would view her as they needed to, an eternally kind, warm hearted and confident leader that would allow nothing to go wrong, that would always make the right decision. And so, the creature she had once been had been pushed away like an infection, smothered and hidden between years and years of colourful and much needed deceit.

Her sister however, her dear, beautiful, beloved sister had refused the treatment, had refused to meet the expectations which had been set for her as she stubbornly rebuked the change for those she ruled, as she refused to allow herself to become tainted and something else entirely. Then, just as quickly as a snap of fingers, the ponies she and her sister had battled for, the ponies that they had shed blood for and the ponies they had sacrificed nearly everything for, turned their backs on her sister, thinking her ill and unfit to sit alongside the shining example that she had been warped and twisted into. She had watched as those she ruled and loved turned themselves away from the night and its wonders to instead seek the comfort and the false, trickster security of the day. She had watched, behind her crafted mask, as her own sister desperately attempted to draw them back, as her sister tried to change herself to reflect the older and more loved one. She had watched the ponies spit on her sister, she had seen behind concealed, magenta eyes how hurt her little sister had become and then, with a shocking clarity and a roll of fear that threatened to engulf and overwhelm her flawless face skin, she had seen her sister begin to change.

Her sister, her dear, beautiful, beloved sister was no longer who she once was, she no longer resembled any speck of the fantastic, awe inspiring mare that she had loved so dearly and so violently. No, her sister was something else entirely. What she was was corrupted and it pained her, oh it pained her so much to see her precious sister fall so, so far. What came next though, what came next shattered her spirit and her very soul, what came next splintered the mask she had worn for so long now, sending shards of herself scattering in all directions as both mind and body lay in ruins.

Her sister, her dear, beautiful, beloved sister turned against her with vengeance and anger in her hurt and it burnt her from the inside, to see the midnight mare's soul so twisted and diseased. But it burnt even more when she had to lock her own sister away, it burnt her even more strongly when she saw for a split second the traces of regret and betrayal, such deep betrayal, paint the features of her sister as she was sent to her prison amongst the rock and debris of the lunar surface. On that day, over a thousand years ago, her mask smashed and faltered and it never truly returned.

On that night, the night that threatened to engulf her with loneliness and sorrow, she wept and wept freely as her citizens gathered around her, as they congratulated her on the sick, twisted punishment she had wrought upon her own sister. They had said their praises and, like every other creature she had truly known bar one, they had left her to suffer through the unbearable agony alone. It took her weeks to emerge from the confines of her own mind and her dishevelled, beaten and sorrow torn room and take to the throne again, alone this time, and it had taken her even longer to resurrect that mask, that indestructible, undesirable mask that would always return to her, no matter if she wanted it or not. For the first time, between those weeks and years that brought only despair and loneliness, for the first time she had cursed her eternal life, she had spouted bitter bile of hatred from her throat that only she alone could speak. For the first time, between those months and years, she had wished she could die.

The mask returned over time but it was a frail, feeble, fickle thing now, a shield to protect herself from her citizens, her cruel but precious victims of time as she gazed out upon her land time and time again, constantly wondering when the pain and the heartbreak could stop, when the loneliness would vanish and then, quite suddenly and with a force strong enough to bring tears to her eyes, she came to a realization. Love was not something meant for her, what sane, protective person would dare to love another when they knew that their lover would wither away and die whilst they remained the same. That night, exactly five hundred and seventy six years ago, she had looked up to the moon and she had prayed to whatever may be above her, she had prayed for her sisters return and she had prayed for the ability to love solely and purely, for the ability to quench this bitter, hateful loneliness. And she wept when there was no answer but the twinkle of four, bright stars.

Years passed in their hundreds and vaguely she could remember the time being prosperous and beautiful, no war, no hatred, no violence only a deep feeling of peace and tranquillity that permeated the air. She had lived for thousands of years and yet on that one morning when she had looked out upon her subjects, seeing the smoke rising from chimneys and the happy laughter of foals, she had never felt more safe and secure in her decisions. On that day, she looked up at the stars and she felt the stars look back and she knew, oh she knew that her sister would return, brighter and better then ever. On that day she took on an apprentice, a small, lavender unicorn that had seemed to important, so incredibly important. On that day, the mask dropped and instead of sorrow and heart ache, instead of pain and loneliness, there was only a radiant, beaming joy.

Her sister returned and broke the demonic shackles she had been imprisoned in, her faithful student grew and grew, learning about such marvellous things like friendship and love and Celestia looked out upon her empire, upon her kingdom Equestria, she felt the mask return and yet she accepted it because she knew she must, because she knew that out there, in this wide worlds, there were ponies who saw what she was under the mask and for that simple matter, for the love of but a few amongst thousands, she knew that her mask would remain but that her true spirit, her true self would be allowed its own free roam. Her royal façade equipped, her inner self hidden but happy and her loved ones surrounding her, she took command of Equestria properly and happily for the first time in centuries.

Today though, today her mask had left and she knew deep within herself that it had no reason to return, that it could never and would never return for this pain, this insufferable pain that she felt, the agony that kept her façade at bay would never leave her for Twilight Sparkle, her wonderful, fantastic apprentice Twilight Sparkle was dead and no amount of crying or weeping would stop the stabbing pains in her chest and her heart.

Today, she knew, was the day that would break her heart and her soul.

{~}

You will live forever.

He was young, he knew that much, when Twilight had told him that he would live far, far longer then her, that he would span millennia, that he may even last as long as Princess Celestia. At the time he had thought it cool, that he would live for so long and grow so big, that he would rival mountains and that he would have thousands of years to get as clever as Twilight was, which had constantly made her blush. Now though, as he stood in the Canterlot Castle Cemetery, surrounded by rows of decrepit, vine tangled and cracked tombstones, a fierce rain belting down upon him, he realized that what she had said so long ago, of his slow process of ageing, was more of a burden then a gift. He remembered that she had said that over time, she would pass away but he would remain and she had said it with such certainty and yet with just the faintest tingles of sadness, she had said it so surely and strongly that Spike the dragon couldn't help but grow excited as to what exactly he would do with his time, where he would go, the legendary acts he would do.

She had said that he would outlast all of them, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Applejack and herself, and she was right. She was so terribly, horrifically right.

He stood outside, allowing the ferocious wind to tear into him, allowing the cold rain to pierce his core with icy tendrils, allowing the mud to clench and grapple around his taloned feet as he stood stock still in front of a set of six pure white, new looking and fanciful tombstones, each one embroidered with a different message. The young dragon, barely sixty years old and locked within the confines of an almost teenage body, his height significantly taller then before, just over the height of Princess Luna, his scales shinier, his wings now grown out and his ability to walk on two legs now considered difficult, forced himself onto one knee, feeling the mud immediately latch onto him as he rested his head on the face of one of the six tombstones, the bitter sting of tears tracing down his face to fall to the ground like rain, splashing onto the mud with little effect. Lifting a clawed hand, he rested his talons on the edge of the writing, tracing it over delicately as he began to read and reminisce, fresh tears sprouting to his eyes.

Here lies Lady Rarity
Bearer of the Element of Generosity
“Generosity is giving more then you can and she gave us all so much.”
Rest in peace

Spike drew back a shaky sob as his fingers continued to idly but lovingly trace the cold, wet stone of the tomb, remembering how she appeared to him when he was younger, a visage of beauty and elegance, of wonder and generosity. How, even after she had declined his numerous advances, they had remained firm friends, constantly laughing and talking, never letting the awkward events claim their friendship. He remembered how she had sobbed and wailed when she had discovered her first grey hair and how he had held her, comforted her and said she was the most beautiful creature in the world, no matter what colour hair. He remembered her finding her coltfriend and soon to be husband mere weeks later, a stallion named Shine Frost who had captured her heart and her interest, the pair being almost uncomfortably close. He remembered her grief when he had died, how he had tried to brighten her up and how it had failed, how he had stayed with her for the first night, holding her as she sobbed and pounded on him with her hooves, scorning and belittling fate for its cruelness. He remembered how she had become old and wrinkled, how she had smiled as he had walked into her hospital room, hitting his head on the door frame. How she had laughed at him, beckoned him over and told him how she was dying, how she never did quite manage to have a foal or expand her boutique to every reach of Equestria and yet how she would never regret it, how she had loved her friends, how she had done all she could and how she would never, ever change it. She had died the next day, passing away in her sleep before she could wish her own sister a goodbye.

Slowly, Spike shuffled along and fell to his feet once again, choking back a sob as he laid his hand on the next tombstone.

Here lies Fluttershy
Bearer of the Element of Kindness
“A part of kindness is loving people more then they deserve
and she loved every creature, big or small.”
Rest in peace

Spike allowed a barrage of tears to break from his eyes as he hunched over, shoulders rolling under the emotional pressure before he regained control of himself, thinking back to the time when he had first met her and how she had burst from her timid shell at the mere sight of him. He remembered long afternoons of tea and conversation, of laughter and the ability to draw the timid pegasus out of her shy little shell, small smiles and dainty eye twinkles gracing her features as she softened up to her friends. He remembered long talks over each of her animals, how bored he had been and yet how much he had secretly cherished the sound of her voice and the depths of her devotion to her animal friends. He remembered the joy and the hilarity he had experienced when she had told her friends of her very own stallion, the red colt known as Big Macintosh, his little dragon self rolling in heaps of laughter at the sight of Applejack's scared and irritated face. He remembered comforting her when one of her animal friends died, how she wept onto him as Big Mac ploughed the fields, as she sobbed into his chest as he cooed and stroked her mane. He remembered her foal, a little red furred, blue eyed and pink haired filly by the name of Applegrace and how happy and excited he had been at her arrival, how Fluttershy had smiled and cried happy tears, making the other mares burst into tears much to his own confusion. He remembered seeing her near her cottage one afternoon, seated outside on a gently rocking chair, her eyes closed, her wrinkled skin stretched across her old face as she sung hoarsely but still beautifully, even the birds stopping to listen to the angel. She had died that same evening, her age catching up to her after many happy years.

With a last, hazy glance, Spike shrugged his shoulders, feeling the painful ball in his throat constrict as he stepped over to the next tombstone, laying his fingers on its edge.

Here lies Pinkie Pie
Bearer of the Element of Laughter
“A day without laughter is a day wasted and she
never stopped laughing.”
Rest in peace

Spike allowed a small, taut and forced smile to paint across his face as he thought about the bubbly pink mare, remembering when he had first encountered her properly, the amazing party she had thrown was the highlight of his entrance to Ponyville, besides the first encounter with Rarity. He remembered countless times situated at Sugarcube Corner when she would sneak him a pastry, supplying her own little wink and giggle before trotting off. He remembered how happy she was, always happy, constantly smiling or laughing or bouncing in place, eager to go ahead and do whatever she wished, managing to maintain five different conversations all at once. He remembered her taking over the bakery when the Cakes passed away, how sad and yet how brutally determined she had been, speaking to him seriously and without her usual quirkiness, telling him that she would do whatever it takes to keep the memory of the Cakes alive. He remembered her bringing home a filly by the name of Vinyl Scratch, how they had hit it off, fallen in love and gone on a month long holiday before Vinyl had broken it off, shattering Pinkie's heart and effectively making sure she could never love again. He remembered all of his friends being there to comfort her as she cried and cried and cried, her hair flat and dead, her pink coat dulled and filthy as she sobbed and pounded her first against Rainbow Dash, refusing to withdraw from the chest of the cyan pegasus for three hours. He remembered her return to her bubbly self, her smile now plastered back on her face as she laughed and sang, as she buried what once was beneath a tide of what could be and what would be. He remembered seeing her in her final few hours, laying in her bed, wheezing and struggling to breath but still wearing that same goofy smile, her eyes shining as brightly as when she was a young filly, her final parting words to her group of friends being to never stop smiling, to never sacrifice their happiness for her parting and then, because she was Pinkie, she had sealed the deal with a bright smile that ended in a choked sob.

Struggling to keep the smile on his face, for Pinkie's sake, Spike moved to the next tombstone,his talons clicking against the stone.

Here lies Rainbow Dash
Bearer of the Element of Loyalty
“Loyalty is for those who deserve it and none
deserve it more then her.”
Rest in peace

Spike closed his draconian eyes, feeling tears spring from their depths, salting and burning his eyes as they traced a line down his face, his memory pouring back into him over the cyan furred mare. He remembered their first meeting, how she had barrelled into Twilight and the laughter that had ushered forth from both her and him at the sight of the navy blue mane, now tangled and maddening. He remembered endless dares that they had initiated to each other, from jumping Ghastly Gorge on a scooter to sending a prank letter to Princess Celestia, how much trouble they had gotten into and yet how close, how powerfully loyal he had felt to his friend at that moment as they were stared down by the ruler of Equestria. He remembered her try-outs for the Wonderbolts, how she had returned weeping and crying after her failed attempt, how she had retreated to her house for over a week, refusing entry to everyone and then how she had emerged later, brimming with fierce energy and a desire, a drive to prove herself, breaking free from her sorrow to train harder and harder until finally she was accepted. He remembered her admitting her feelings to her dear friend Applejack by writing out 'I love you' in the sky for her, the young dragon nearly barrelling over with laughter when Applejack had run full throttle at Rainbow Dash, thrown her hooves around her and kissed her right then and there, in front of all of her friends, much to Rainbow's embarrassment. He remembered long days of working together with them on Applejack's farm, the duo constantly pestering each other but always ending the arguments with a loving, longing, tender kiss. He remembered seeing her in her flight gear, her wings old but groomed, her skin wrinkled but muscled as she stared at him from inside the library, telling the six of them that she was going on one final trip and that she wouldn't return, how much they had meant to her, how she would miss them and how they should remain strong, never faltering and eternally loyal. The last time Spike had seen her, she had been disjointedly but determinedly flapping into the sunset.

Spike sighed to himself, feeling the sickening feeling of loneliness and depression writhing in his stomach, forcing tears to stream from his eyes once more as he paused beside the next tombstone, hand clenching around the top of the stone.

Here lies Applejack
Bearer of the Element of Honesty
“Almost any difficulty will move in the face of honesty
and she strived to be eternally honest.”
Rest in peace

Spike stroked the cold stone softly, claws tracing down its fresh, clean and snowy white edge as he replayed his first meeting with Applejack, how she had willingly and happily offered both him and Twilight a place to stay and eat brunch instead of kicking both of them out to find their own food, though Twilight had not seemed to like the idea at first. He remembered all of the times he would go over to help the workload at Sweet Apple Acres, when he was much, much younger it would just be to help Applebloom carry some apples or to make sure Granny Smith didn't try to do too much exercise and damage herself but later on, what with the growth of his body, he had started to carry whole bushels by himself, along with trying to buck the apples, every time he did he would get an encouraging nod from Big Mac or a smile from Applejack. He remembered the look of bewilderment on Applejack's face when Rainbow Dash had confessed her feelings and then, straight afterwards, the intense look of lust that seemed to flare through those hardened, farmer emerald eyes. He remembered helping Applejack cope when Granny Smith finally passed away, the old mare falling asleep in her favourite rocking chair peacefully and never waking up, Applejack's tears staining his scales as she wailed and cried, cried continuously for what felt like years and yet what must have been only a few hours. He remembered the look of horror, betrayal and sadness when Rainbow Dash had flown away, such a deep, resounding agreement over death from the mare that she had chosen to spend her life with had shocked Applejack and within the week, even the farm pony had given up, calling the remaining girl and Spike over to tell them that it was her time, that she had a good run, that she wanted this farm to grow fruitfully, which it did and that it was for the best, she was off to go see Rainbow Dash again and they could be happy together forever, without fear of losing each other. Spike had watched, aghast and yet accepting, as Applejack closed her eyes and, with a soft, tender, loving smile, breathed her last.

Spike shakily stood up and made his way to the final tombstone, the newest in the long line by far, the gleaming, pristine stone upheld perfectly, fresh soil still visible directly in front of it, smooth words carved with care and grace into the body of stone until it melded with the tomb. Finally, Spike allowed his emotions to escape, sadness and loneliness flooding through him as he sobbed over and over again into his claws, thinking that he would never ever stop because she wad dead, his sister was dead and she had been so right, he had outlived them all, he had watch them pass through their ages until they began to fade. He had had to suffer through five funerals, five gruelling, heartbreaking funerals and he couldn't, he simply couldn't handle a sixth, not her, not now, not when he needed her the most.

Here lies Twilight Sparkle
Bearer of the Element of Magic
Royal student of Princess Celestia
“True magic doesn't stem from a horn, it comes from
friendship and she had the best of friends.”
Rest in peace

And underneath, in shaky, irregular and distraught letters, stood Spike's final message to her, his claws slicing through the stone like butter as he continued to sob, knowing what he had wrote and knowing that he would never see her again, she was gone, his sister who raised him from birth was dead.

“I'll miss you Twilight, I hope you'll miss me too.”

All of his memories, of being brought up in Canterlot by an excited lavender mare with a wide heart and a massive mind, of himself coming to her on a stormy night, scared and lonely with the thunder and lightning striking the outside world as she allowed him to sleep in her bed. He remembered her praise, her thanks, her constant nagging that once got on his nerves and now, now he missed it like it was part of himself. He remembered watching her develop friendships, watching her battle evil, watching her grow older and older, wiser and wiser and yet the friendship reports never stopped, there was always something new for the lavender unicorn to learn. He remembered her at all of the funerals, crying at Rarity's, hugging Pinkie at Fluttershy's, trying to be brave at Pinkie's, holding Applejack as Rainbow Dash flew off into the sunset, sobbing into Spike at Applejack but she wasn't here, she wasn't at this funeral, she wasn't beside Spike as he sobbed, as he wept like so many others had. She would never comfort him, could never comfort him, not ever, ever again for she was dead, dead, dead and there was nothing he could do with all his life, all his strength to bring her back. He remembered her final days, as she had come down the stairs, old and withered but no less enthusiastic over knowledge, as she simply looked him in the eyes and told him she wouldn't be around much longer, as she drew out a check list for her funeral, her own funeral. She was Twilight to the end, laying herself down to rest with a good book and a dimly lit candle, reading until she could read no more and then passing out of this world into the next, her features relaxed and happy as Spike cried and choked and screamed.

She had died and left him all alone in a world he still didn't understand and some part of him, amongst the grief and the sorrow and the pain, the endless pain, hated her for it, for betraying him. He wanted her, he needed her. She was his, his everything. His life, his sister, his parent, his protector, his teacher, his keeper, his friend, his very best friend and she had left him all alone.

Spike's shoulders rolled as he continued to sob into his hands, his tears falling through the cracks in his fingers like rain, striking the earth which she laid under softly but steadily, like a drumbeat of his own sorrow, his innermost agony. He cried and cried and cried for what felt like years, for what felt like millennia, under the pouring rain and heavy winds, until he could cry no more and only then did he lift his head up to gaze at the tombstone with raw, red, puffy eyes full of sadness and desolation, his fingers stroking the stone gently and rhythmically as he forced out a choked, broken sentence.

“G-goodbye T-T-Twilight.”

Spike turned his back on the tombstone, forcing himself to take steps away from it, drawing in breath laboriously as his eyes spilled over again with tears, his head continually glancing back at the tombstone as he drew further and further away, misery swirling inside of him as he trudged through the mud, feeling it splatter against him but not caring. He had one more thing to do, one more task that he had to fulfil as her number one assistant, one last thing that she had told him of as she lay there, ready and prepared for her death even though he wasn't. She had spoken to him in her age cracked voice, her words croaked from an old throat but still trembling with need, with a lust for him to do what she asked him.

“Make sure she's alright Spike. She's going to be in a lot of pain, like you and I need you to make sure she's alright.”

He would make sure he completed her final wish and then, when all was said and done, he would leave for nothing remained for him here, there was nothing left for the young dragon but pain and misery. With a loud, strangled sob and sigh, Spike forced himself to walk towards the glittering Canterlot Castle, Twilight's final message whistling through his head as he stomped through the mud, out of the iron gate of the cemetery, without looking back for it would hurt to do so, to find Princess Celestia.

To fulfil her final wish.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2- In Which Love Occurs

Upon seeing the drenched, mud crusted and distraught young dragon making his way slowly and painfully up the castle steps towards the large, double doors of the throne room, the royal guards had stepped forward to stop his journey, unaware of who he was, of what he was feeling or of what he had promised to her, to his wonderful sister. They didn't need to say anything when they halted directly in front of Spike, their golden armour gleaming in the rain, they didn't need to disallow him entrance to the castle, they just needed to stand there, solid and unmoving, knowing that it would repel the young dragon and send him home, the sight of two royal guards barring the entrance to the castle would constantly send ponies, griffins and the occasional diamond dog running home. What they didn't know and, unfortunately, what Spike did know is that he had promised his sister, his Twilight that he would do this final, parting task, this final role as her number one assistant and there would be no force on this planet that could stop him now, nothing that could make the sense of commitment vanish for it was the only thing that stopped him from plunging entirely into the pool of sorrow and sadness which threatened to overwhelm him.

With a low, animalistic grunt that sounded almost like a sob, Spike pushed forward, his unusual strength sending the guards tumbling to the sides as he continued his slow, methodical walk to the doors, intent only on one thing and one thing alone. Partially startled by the reaction of the young dragon and partially stunned by the ease at which he had shrugged them off, the guards gaped at each other for a minute, rain tinkling on their helmets before they raced towards him, barking out loud orders that demanded him to stop, to desist in his walk and turn himself into them lest they have to remove him forcefully from the castle. Still the young dragon walked forward until he rested both of his claws upon the double doors, pushing with all of his strength as the doors swung open with a low groan, the wind rushing into the throne room and the rain splattering the marble floor as Spike trudged in, followed by the angered guards who almost immediately leapt upon him, latching themselves to him and trying to wrestle him to the ground before they were stopped by a single voice that seemed to puncture the air like a needle.

“Desist royal guards!”

Spike knew that voice and, unconsciously and without his consent, his head lifted up from his chest, tears still sleeping in his eyes as he gazed at the sight before him with glazed, misty orbs. The throne room, white marble walls sparkling, luscious, colourful banners flapping in the heavy breeze, windows glinting with flashes of pelting rain, throne coated crimson red, was as he had always remembered it save for one fact. Upon the throne sat not Princess Celestia but Princess Luna, the midnight mare alicorn gazing crossly at her guards as she rose from the comfortable chair, trotting over to where Spike stood, the guards having backed away and bowed at her simple command, their cheeks still flushed a faint red colour. He knew he should bow, he knew he should show his respects but that was not why he was here, he was not here to be gracious and courteous, he was here for her and afterwards he would be gone, far, far away from Equestria and its ponies.

Princess Luna trotted closer to him and he gazed at her without emotion, detached and almost dead as if his life had been torn away from him, as if his heart had been ripped out. Princess Luna kept up her pace until she stood directly in front of him, her eyes locked onto his almost passionately, as if she was searching his soul, as if she were gazing into his being. Finally, after a few seconds of which Spike stood blankly and impassive, Luna waved off her guards with a flick of her tail, the twin golden armoured equines rushing back outside to their stations as the midnight mare sat down directly in front of Spike and spoke up in a quiet voice, so irregular and unusual compared to how she had once sounded.

“You are here for her, are you not?”

Spike nodded with a small gesture before he winced as another bolt of fresh pain tore through his heart, remembering the time in which he had dressed up as a dragon for Nightmare Night and how Twilight had helped Princess Luna return to a world of love and care. Spike opened his mouth, aware that he should speak, that if she were here, his little pony, she would be ashamed at his silence, aghast at his disagreement towards speaking. Before he could speak however, he was silenced by a crystal covered hoof pressing against his lips, the tip cold and unwelcoming to him as Luna spoke up in a hushed voice.

“You are in pain, young dragon, you do not have the strength in you for many words. Save them for someone who truly needs them, dare not to waste them.”

Spike swallowed a ball of ice that had settled in his throat at her touch before he nodded slowly, eyes tingling again, puffy and inflamed as Princess Luna removed her hoof and gestured with a flick of her ethereal tail for him to follow her as she trotted away, towards a single, boring, wooden door that sat directly to the right of the throne itself, the young princess and the destroyed dragon walking through it to creep and walk through long corridors, filled with fierce draughts and coursing coldness. Once more, without his need, without his wish to remember, Spike found himself thinking back on her, of the times they had had in the castle as his body went on autopilot, following the princess with ease.

He remembered how together they had played hide and seek amongst the halls, how at one point he had gotten lost and had cried out for her in fear and loneliness and how, almost immediately she had appeared to him, a small smile on her face as she bopped him lightly on the nose and called him silly for going so far. He remembered her fascination with books and how they would spend hours on end everyday in the library, as he would sit on his favourite wooden chair, reading up on myths and legends with fearsome dragons and brave knights and how he had wished to be the knight, to save the damsel in distress. How she would lay on the floor, a soft candle glowing beside her, eyes roaming the pages of her chosen book, absorbing every aspect, her tongue poking out from her lips as she moved the page over with her magic, small smiles dotting her face every time she would accomplish the task. He remembered long nights where they would stay awake, giggling under the protection of their covers as they disobeyed their bedtimes, the both of them usually falling asleep only an hour after the designated time. He remembered her discovering Nightmare Moon's tale of old, how worried she had been, how he had laughed and how, in the end, she had been right about it, she had been right about everything. He remembered her face as she lay down on that final night, happy and content as she read her final book, the candle light dying and flickering as she slowly closed her eyes, as she took her last breath, as her last smile painted across her face.

Spike blinked back tears again, growling at himself in small traces of anger. Twilight had said that she would need him, that he would have to make sure she was alright and he would be no use to Twilight if he was trapped in his own emotions, he would fail her final task and disrespect her memory.

Without realizing, his mind sunk deeply into swirling memories and bitter-sweet reminisces, the pair of them, the lunar princess and the broken, beaten dragon had arrived directly outside of a similarly wooden door that was surrounded by cracked marble walls, the midnight mare beside Spike almost hesitantly speaking up as if she was afraid of what awaited him behind that closed door.

“Travel up the staircase and you will find her room...Be brave Spike for, believe it or not, she is in a far worse place then you.”

Spike had to visibly restrain his barbed reply, his sorrow torn whip from lacing into Princess Luna for there was no creature, big or little, old or young that could possibly feel worse then him, that could possibly understand how much it hurt, how much pain flooded his veins like liquid lead. She was gone, gone, gone, that simple thought raced around his head and his heart, tearing and slicing into him until he wanted to pull it out, to pull out all of his feelings, all of his emotions so that he would never have to feel this much agony, so that he would never have to feel this burden. Nobody, nopony could ever know how much it hurt, how much the pain tore into him, how little he knew of the young dragon he had once been would be left after he had said his final goodbyes, fulfilled her final wish. With a disjointed nod of thanks, Spike opened the wooden door, the frame creaking before he began to slouch and tumble up the steps, occasionally stopping when a memory that was too vivid, too powerful overcame his senses and brought tears to his eyes, his nose streaming by now much like his eyes.

Eventually he reached the top of the stairs, emerging into a fairly large room with one, single, golden door situated directly in front of him, the faintest traces, the quietest tingles of soft sounds breaking from its depths. The soft sounds that Spike knew all too well and, for the first time in his journey, Spike hesitated to continue, hesitated to open the door and to try to comfort for if Celestia was in any pain like his, if she could even feel a shred of what he was going through then he knew that comforting her, telling her it was alright and okay would never, ever work. Still, he had made her a promise, he had made sure she knew that he would do all he can for Celestia and he would not, could not back down now. He had a duty, a task to complete for her sake and he would, even if it hurt him to stay any longer in Equestria.

With a resigned sigh and a final, sad but hardened thought towards what he had promised Twilight, Spike moved forward, tail slithering over the floor, and pushed the door open, walking into the room slowly, his reptilian eyes glancing around the room in a dull sheen, noting the darkness, the decrepit state and the unfamiliar smatterings of destroyed items that littered the floor. Two massive, crimson red curtains concealed the outside world from view, enclosing the room in a veil of shadowed darkness so that even Spike, with his enhanced eyesight, struggled to make out anything inside the room. The state of the royal chambers was a mess of destruction and sorrow, much like the after effects of an explosion of epic proportions, ancient artefacts, noble heirlooms and quirky items laying broken and scattered across the room, banners ripped from walls, clothing strewn everywhere in sight, carpeting the floor. Splashes of drink and half eaten forms of food spread across the floor like water, seething and pooling together as if they were family. The whole room smelt of something rotten, of sodden wood and rotten food, of dirty clothes and perfume that had sat unused for a long, long time. The intense feeling of pain, of sorrow and agony pierced and permeated the air so strongly, so richly that Spike, at first, believed that his torturous heart had grown a scent, had poured forth from him. The faint, keening, heart-rending, spine-tingling, distraught sound of soft, faint weeping filled the air, punctuated every once in a while by a choked sob that seemed to reflect a incoherent word, a word filled with such desolate pain that it made Spike wince accidentally.

The bed covers had been deposited unceremoniously on the floor, along with the pillows and it was there, smothered and choked within the soft quilt, that he found her weeping gently, her whole, regal form shaking from a pain he recognized. What Spike saw then, as he looked upon the weeping Goddess, her mask fallen, her emotions spewing from her, her sorrow and her heartache gushing forth from her in fat tears and strangled cries, dishevelled mane and dirtied body, what he saw then made him take an involuntary step, not backwards but forwards as he struggled to come to terms with what he was seeing, as he struggled to come to terms with the sounds of the cries of a deity, as he struggled to fight his way through the swamping feeling of failure and sadness, such deep-set sadness. What he saw there made him catch his breath, made tears spring to his eyes, but not ones of sadness over Twilight but of gratitude for in front of him, right here, right now was a creature that understood him, his pain and his suffering and why no manner of pitiful, sorry phrases or tears ushered forth would ever be enough to truly cleanse the pain.

As he looked down upon the weeping Goddess, he saw himself and he knew, he just knew that it had been the best, the greatest idea to come here, to complete her final wish for here was someone who understood him and the unbearable pain of losing his Twilight.

Without thinking, without realizing what he was doing or why he was doing it, Spike crouched to the floor and wrapped his purple scaled arms around Princess Celestia's weeping form, drawing her close to him as he to allowed fresh tears to spring to his eyes, as he to allowed his emotions to break free and roam this darkened room, as he to attempted to draw out the poisonous pain by weeping and weeping and weeping, his head folding onto the head of the huddled, crumpled and destroyed Princess who, in turn, folded into him as though he were her life line, sinking into his chest and sobbing freely, no longer trying to contain her high, peeling sobs with dainty cries. And why should she any more, her student was dead, her student had left her just like so, so many others and there was nothing she could do, nothing she could ever do with all of her years of life. Spike's tears fell freely from his eyes, plopping onto and into the frazzled mane of the princess, sinking into its depths like they had never been there as the ball of ice and sorrow inside of him began to unclench, taking command of his body as he folded into the warm ball in front of him, curling his head over Celestia's so that it rested upon her mane, his monstrous shoulders heaving with sobs that should have never been spilt. And then, vaguely but clearly, the strangled cries that had escaped Celestia's throat for so long, the incoherent babble of suffering and torture formed a word, a single word that reflected so much pain, so much unbearable, monstrous, horrific pain that it spiked through the air, that it brought fat, rolling tears springing from Spike's eyes more freely as he listened, time and time again to her cries, her sobs, his feelings imitated perfectly by another, his heart ache shown through someone else. Dimly, choked with tears and hoarse from a red, raw throat, the cries echoed around the room, falling on the ears of only the lonely.

“Twilight.”

{~}

Spike didn't know how long they stayed like that, curled into each other like long lost relatives, feeling the tears of the other chilling them both to the core, hearing the wheezes and weeping puncture their ears, trying to draw out the poison of their own loneliness and depression to no avail, and neither did he want to know how long they remained that way, he did not want to know how long it had taken for even a shred of his pain to vanish and vanish it had, like a small icicle being ripped from the shards of ice that sliced and laid in his heart. So much remained, so much of him hurt deep, deep within and he knew that it would take time, a long time for it to heal, to relinquish its deathly, treacherous, diseased grip on his heart but he knew it would eventually loosen for he had had to sit through five other deaths, five other heart-rending passings and each time, though it had taken a vast amount of time, he had returned from the pinnacle of the deteriorating pain.

After days, or weeks, or months, or years they emerged from one another, both of them simultaneously gazing into each others eyes, no words being spoken but the meaning all too clear, telling the other that it would not be alright, that the pain would not go away entirely, that it would hurt and hurt and keep hurting for many, many years but that they would endure, they would carry onwards for it would be what she would want. Celestia had roused herself from her afflicted, desolate stupor and had almost climbed out of her shell, wordlessly but methodically drawing a fire from the small fireplace that had remained hidden behind piles of tossed and torn clothing, summoning up two chairs from somewhere in the room and positioning them in front of the fire as if it was an old habit of hers, the dead, detached look in her eyes suggesting that she had no true control over her actions, that she was merely working automatically, that the real Celestia was no longer in control, not at the moment anyway. Without a word or even a hint of one, the regal, royal princess collapsed loudly into the soft, comforting embrace of one of the chairs, her eyes staring straight into the fire without any traces of emotion, Spike settling into his own chair to stare at the fire similarly, replaying all of his memories of Twilight time and time again, wanting to cry but no longer having the energy or the tears to weep. Instead there was just a void, an expanse that was filled with loneliness and a sense of abandonment, the abyss nearly swallowing him up before he was awoken from his fevered, frantic dream by the croaky, emotion torn voice of Celestia.

“Do you remember the first day you met me Spike?”

The tone of her voice, such coldness and isolation and yet just the smallest hints of humour managed to shake Spike free from his mind and yes, yes he did remember the first time he had met Celestia properly. A small smile swept across his draconian face as he remembered how worried Twilight had been, constantly grooming his spines, polishing his purple scales and making him recite exactly what to say time and time again until he had it ingrained into his memory. 'Hello Princess Celestia, I'm Spike the dragon, it's a pleasure to meet you'. He could still remember it now and the look of pride that Twilight had worn, her entire complexion positively beaming before her jaw dropped when Princess Celestia laughed and told him fully that she preferred just being called Celestia and that rules and regulations were not needed, that she was just like any of them and no tiara or necklace could ever change that. He remembered Twilight stuttering in confusion, his little dragon self laughing at her valiantly as Princess Celestia joined in with a tinkling peal of giggles. Oh yes, he remembered that day well.

“Hello Princess Celestia, I'm Spike the dragon, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

His voice, once full of enthusiasm and a desire to prove himself to his older sister, was now dulled and glossy yet still tinged with the traces of a good memory, the phrase alone making Celestia crack a tiny, fragile smile before it was washed away by another impassive look as she spoke up again, her voice still broken but now whispered with traces, hints of a need, a lust to reminisce over her student, a desire to make sure she could never forget her. To go over her best, brightest and most memorable moments, to praise her.

“How about the time she had to let go of Miss Smarty Pants?”

He remembered that time well for it was the very first time he had seen his older sister, his protector and surrogate mother, cry in sadness. It was the first time he had comforted another creature, how he had wrapped his stubby little arms around her, simulating the rocking motion she had done for so many nights to get him to sleep, the lavender filly almost immediately curling into him, tears staining and tracking down his scales. Her parents, cruel and yet decisive as they were, refused her the possession of Miss Smarty Pants for she had grown too old, she had grown too smart to keep a stuffed toy and though she would surely miss her little, soft, furry friend, it was for the best. He had been there when she had bolted off to find Princess Celestia, crying and gushing and wailing aloud what had happened, how unfair it was and he remembered clearly the expression on the princesses face, one of anger at the parents of the young filly that was currently bawling in front of her. He remembered listening from afar as the princess managed to convince Mr and Mrs Sparkle to let Twilight have her doll back, even if it was only for an hour a day. Most of all though, he remembered the look of gratitude on her face when he had cheered her up, when he had made her giggle and snort in hilarity as he solely re-enacted her favourite play to her, Roameo and Juliet.

“O-of course I do. She was so distraught.”

His voice wavered slightly as he remembered the teary look in her sparkling eyes when he had wrapped his arms around her, the joy and happiness etched across her face when her doll had been returned. He missed her, her smile, her twinkling eyes, her grouchy behaviour. He missed every little thing about her, good or bad.

They continued that way for a long, long time, reminiscing over the moments in Twilight's life that both he and the princess beside him needed, no, longed to hear just to make sure that they knew everything about her, that there was not a single smidgeon of the wonderful Twilight Sparkle that would go unnoticed. Together, they sought out old and new memories, of her disbelief and frustration towards the Nightmare Moon incident, how she had refused to make friends at first and then, with the help of five of the greatest mare known to ponykind, how she had discovered its brilliant magic and banished the dark spirit that had captured Luna in a deathly tight grip. They remembered her battle with Discord, how it had been thanks to the assistance of her number one assistant and her own friendship reports of so long ago that had given her the courage and the strength of will to fight onwards through strife and struggle, eventually overcoming the spirit. They remembered her incident with Miss Smarty Pants, both of them being graced with light smiles as they thought back to the fear she had felt, the punishment she had expected and the surprising but welcome end result. The joy on her face at that moment, knowing she would not be snatched from her friends, that they themselves would be able to experience the wonders of writing down the lessons they learn, had remained in both Spike's and Celestia's mind for a long, long time, the both of them allowing small tears to race down their cheeks, dashing them away with a claw and a hoof, eager to continue to make sure that if she was looking down from above, to make sure that she knew that she was loved, that she was remembered.

They talked, whispered, remembered deep into the night, each story bringing the both of them out of their tightly sealed, impenetrable shells that defended them from the horrors of life and death. As the evening wore on and as, surprisingly, Celestia produced an old, dusty bottle of what appeared to be red wine from a hidden part of her room, declaring it had been stored for an occasion like no other and whilst tonight was not a night for celebration, it was an important night for both of them. She had seemed to emerge from her deformed, broken, hollow state more and more into the night, greater even then Spike, the reasoning may have been the amount of wine consumed by her or the simple fact that she had accepted that the pain would not leave and that they owed Twilight their happiness. Smiles had broken forth across her face more and more regularly as the moon rose to its zenith and then began its descent, the occasional laugh at Twilight's antics breaking the relative silence of the decimated room. Spike himself had made a valiant, illustrious effort to remove himself from his depression and his agony, instead opting to remember the fonder, funnier, better moments of Twilight Sparkle's life instead of doting on her death. Though he had initially taken to the castle merely because of her last wish, because he felt obligated to make sure that the task would not go uncompleted, Spike had found himself enjoying the time with Celestia, both for a shoulder to cry on and because she knew, she knew how he was feeling and she would not belittle him or disrespect him by offering false words of encouragement, she would not make a habit of saying that everything would be alright. She knew of the inner-most struggle of his heart, his burning, stabbing pain because she felt it too and, without his consent, he found himself enjoying her company, for her ability to pull out the most peculiar memories to make him laugh and for her ability to truly sympathize.

And then, as the fire crackled and began to die, as the moon yawned and sank lower into the sky, the pair of them reached some unknown and unspoken agreement, a clashing of eyes that were filled with false warmth and happiness, trying to battle and shield from the pain inside. They needed to talk, they needed to know of her final moments so that the picture, the painting of Twilight Sparkle was complete. Of course it was Celestia who brought the unspoken, hated question to life, her once warm, almost juvenile voice now cold and barren, a barrier erected between herself and the outside world in an attempt to halt and stop the pain that was sure to come from flooding her soul.

“W-what did she do in her final hours Spike? How did she leave this world?”

Spike swallowed loudly, his mind racing as his happiness, as his humour and his desire to learn more of his egghead sister fell away to be replaced by that desolately lonely feeling, to be replaced by the sharp stabbing of the icy tendrils that he had pushed to the corner of his mind for so, so long just to admire and respect the mare he had known for so long, to make sure that both of them knew her and what she had accomplished. But now, seated beside Celestia, he realized that he couldn't, simply couldn't bring himself to tell her of how she had left this world because it would kill him, it would break his heart and it would break his mind. She was gone, that was that, there was nothing on this planet that could change that so why did it matter how she died, how she passed away!?

But...but she deserved to know, the benevolent, beloved ruler of Equestria deserved to know that Twilight had simply told him, straight up that this was it, that she was dying. How she had taken a single book from the library, snatched a candle from her private collection and then proceeded to simply lay down in her bed like she would do so long ago, her all night study sessions, as she began to read and read until she could read no more, until she could breath no more. He remembered her final words, begging him to seek out the princess before she sighed at his fast reply, small tears twinkling in her eyes as she smiled, wholly and happily, drawing in a final shaky breath before she expelled sharply, her eyes closing and tears coursing down her cheeks to settle on the pillows, her chest falling still and her eyes never to open again, never to wake him up, never to berate him for eating the ice cream, never to sparkle with the secrets of books or the passion of friendship. He knew he must tell her this, tell her of Twilight's final moments but he couldn't, not like that, for it would destroy both of them and so, in a shaky, beaten and distraught voice he spoke up.

“She left this world like Twilight Sparkle, with a good book and a waxing candle.”

And that was a good enough answer for both of them.

“We should toast them, all of them, for they deserve it.”

Celestia's voice rose up, barely in check, trembling with tightly suppressed emotions as she levitated the nearly empty wine bottle over to her glass, pouring some of the red liquid inside before she repeated the same movement with Spike's glass, the wine bottle jingling and shaking in the air as the solar princess struggled to control her heightening, powerful and loud emotions. Shakily, she raised her voice loud enough for both of them to easily hear, the pair rising from their chairs to stand close towards the front of the flickering fire, glass in claw and glass in hoof, the solar princess refusing to use her magic for a task so important.

“To Rarity, the Element of Generosity, for always being there for her friends.”

The first tear slid down their faces.

“To Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness, for being the wonderful mare she was.”

The second fell to meet the first on the floor.

“To Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter, for always seeing the light in the dark.”

The third trailing from misty eyes.

“To R-Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty, for never giving up in the face of adversity.”

Fourth. Fifth. Sixth.

“To A-A-Applejack, the Element of...of Honesty, for always seeking the truthful option.”

Seventh. Eighth. Ninth. Tenth. A choked sob following the trend.

“To...To T-Twilight Sparkle, the Element o..of Magic, for discovering the m-magic of friendship.”

And then, together they clinked their glasses and rose them to their mouths, swallowing the wine and the tears, the sorrow and the pain as they tried desperately to restrain their tears, to make sure that the painting they had made together was not washed away by their ruthless, rugged emotions. It could not be contained forever though and, after countless hours of reciting the oldest of their memories dedicated towards Twilight Sparkle, the both of them finally caved in, the tears sliding once more down their faces as they latched onto each other once more, grateful for the comfort, for knowing that there was someone else out there that knew what was going through their minds.

They stayed that way for many, many minutes, both of them collapsing to the floor in a small huddle halfway through, their legs no longer willing to work through the torture, before the sounds of crying stopped, a single, exhausted sigh breaking the air as Princess Celestia lent her head against Spike's warm chest, tingling with the fire within him, her eyes closing as she gave into the pressure of the day, falling asleep right there and then, no longer caring how he saw her, how she must look to him. Spike noticed, seconds later, that instead of cries and wails piercing the air there was only the occasional rustle of escaping breath from the mouth of the solar ruler, a small, humoured smile breaking across his face as he looked down upon the creature he had seen for so long as the almighty ruler of Equestria curled into him, sleeping peacefully like a small filly. With a gentle embrace, Spike wrapped his arms underneath the slumbering form of the solar princess and heaved her upwards, carrying her silently and smoothly to her bed, laying her gently on its surface before he turned around and grabbed the covers, whipping them over her snoozing form as he had done to Twilight for many years, her old age meaning that she couldn't stay up as late as she used to.

Spike cast one more look at the form of the princess, heart telling him to stay with her because she understood, because she could help alleviate the pain, head telling him to leave, that he had helped her as he had promised Twilight and that if he stayed in Equestria any longer then the pain may become truly unbearable. He struggled for a few seconds to come to an agreement between body and soul before he sighed deeply, turning to walk away and leave her alone to wake up in the morning before he was stopped by a timid, young and feeble voice.

“Please don't go. I...I don't want to be alone tonight.”

Spike turned slowly, his eyes settling almost instantly on the small, fragile looking head poking out from underneath the covers of the bed, the once awe-inspiring, magnificent magenta eyes now shining with the fear of abandonment and an almost childish want to not be alone tonight, to not have to face the nightmares and the memories solely. It took Spike a few seconds to realize something, something so very important but when he did he knew that he couldn't decline her invitation, her desire for him to stay. Right now, Celestia was the child, not him. Right now, she was more afraid of the dark and what the lonely morning may bring then him because he could leave, because he could make his exit and no one would miss him but she couldn't, she was needed and she would have to stay despite the pain. He couldn't leave her, not now for it would break his promise to Twilight and so, with a light nod, Spike pounded back to one of the chairs beside the fireplace, curled up into it and closed his eyes, wishing for a sleep that would never come.

{~}

“I miss her Spike, I miss her more then I ever thought possible.”

A sparse, wretched hour had ticked by for the lonely dragon in the chair, his mind filled with thoughts of Twilight and her life, his mind weary and tired but unable to fall asleep. Occasionally, he had thrown a glance in Princess Celestia's direction but each time his look was not returned, the mare sleeping deeply and comfortably whilst he suffered without help. Now though, just as he thought himself able to fall asleep efficiently, he was roused from his daze by her quiet, weary voice issuing forth from somewhere in the room, the young dragon craning and cracking his neck around to gaze at the bed wordlessly, only to find it empty, the covers tangled and tossed to the floor carelessly. Slowly, his sleep deprived eyes roamed the room until they fixed upon a single position, the window in which the curtains had once been shrouded was now partially viewable, a faint crack in the red curtains allowing small traces of moonlight to pour through and illuminate the figure standing directly in front of it, looking upwards out of the window and towards the sky as if she expected it to look back.

He croaked up with a raw, sore voice, eyes never leaving Celestia as he pushed himself from the chair, stumbling over to her.

“I do too Celestia. So much more each hour.”

Her voice rose up again as the dragon made his way towards her, soft but filled with misery and a need to understand something of the little dragon that had grown so big, that had grown so wise.

“How will you cope with it Spike, knowing that each morning, when you wake up, she will never be there?”

And how would he cope with it? He had imagined that leaving Equestria, fleeing its borders and never returning would somehow offer him sanctuary from the pain but now as he thought about it, it would only make things worse. He would have no comfort, no help from any creature. He would have had to live out his life in solitude, longing for her to return to him, pining and crying and weeping for years and years and years, hopeless and lost. No, he could not leave Equestria, not now but how, how would he cope, how could he survive day after day with this horrible pain in his chest?

“I won't cope. I'll cry and cry and cry again and when it's done and settled, when I can't cry any more then I'll...I'll be happy. Not for myself, I don't think I can bring myself to be truly happy for a long time, but I'll be happy, for her.”

Celestia nodded faintly, still staring out of the window as the young dragon joined her, his long claws grabbing and pulling at the curtain slightly to reveal to him the night sky, twinkling and dancing with wonderful stars, the moon dipping lower and lower. He was roused from his view by her soft, gentle voice by his side.

“You have learnt so very much Spike. You have become wiser then I ever thought.”

And then, with a choked, strangled sigh that rivalled that of a paroxysm, he replied in a similarly quiet voice.

“I had the best teacher.”

Almost symmetrically, they turned to one another, the moonlight dancing across their faces as they stared into each others eyes, the magenta orbs that had once held such humour and warmth now dulled with hurt but no less pretty. And Spike saw her in a light that he had never seen her before, that he had never thought he would ever see her reflected in.

She was beautiful, purely and richly beautiful standing there in the faint moonlight, allowing her emotions to be bare and naked before him, allowing him to see her for what she was inside, not the mask that she worn so often and so tirelessly outside. Now he could understand why so many worshipped her as a true Goddess because she looked the part, her shining alabaster coat gleaming wonderfully in the faint light, tears caked on her face only adding to the effect that she was real, that she may look like a Goddess but that she had emotions, she had feelings like any other. The swirling, ethereal mane, though tangled and knotted with carelessness, was more beautiful then he had ever seen it because this all was real, this was not the false idol that so many praised. The gleam of suffering but also of a strength, a will to endure behind magenta eyes was enough to make his draconian blood pump faster and more heatedly, as he looked upon her and saw her for what she truly was, beautiful on the outside and beautifully broken on the inside, the truth and the lack of trying to smother and hide her emotions only adding to the over all effect that right now, in front of him stood a creature that was hurting, constantly hurting but constantly loved, constantly cherished even if she didn't want. She was absolute, authentic and corporeal.

Perhaps it had been the stress and the afflictions of the last few hours, of the last few days that had made Spike's mind wander to such peculiar places, to such strange areas that he had never dreamed he would venture into in a million years but now he was here, now he saw her truly and purely and he couldn't look away. And apparently, neither could she for she kept up the stare of longing souls with him, her eyes clashing with his in a battle in which he struggled to determine what the winner would achieve, what the goal truly was.

And then, quite suddenly and much to the surprise of the young dragon, he felt Celestia push herself forward and daintily, timidly, worriedly press her soft, tender, cracked lips to his in a sweet embrace.

And, once more to his surprise, he found himself kissing her back, refusing to let her leave his touch, his lips moulding around hers in a pitched battle, not of dominance or strength, but of gratitude and the deep feeling of protection that they had offered each other. Spike felt that little flicker, that faint tingle of hope once lost upon the death of his best friend and sister, burst back into life as he leaned into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her closer, her hooves draping against his shoulders. She was here, before him, in his eyes and she was magnificent, she was wonderful because she was pure, and true and real. She was beautiful on the outside and she was fantastic, broken but brilliant inside. She wasn't false and hiding behind a mask like she had done for so, so long, she wasn't concealing herself from him in any way and it was bliss, it was beauty, it was the sheer, unrivalled rush of love and longing that filled him from his heart to his head, his cheeks painted a glossy red colour. She knew his soul, she had seen it that night whilst they had talked and discussed and, in turn, he had seen her soul in all of its glory and bounty and it was the most captivating thing he had ever seen, better then glittering jewels, better then the whistle of wind whilst he was flying, better then Rarity had ever truly been because she was his and he was hers and they had been brought together through pain and sorrow, through suffering and agony and yet they had found this, they had found each other, both yearning for comfort and both giving it away freely.

Maybe, maybe this had been her ploy, her plan all along. Maybe she had not sent him out to make Celestia feel cared for or comforted. Perhaps, somewhere in her age-cracked but still wise mind, Twilight had seen what could bloom given the chance, she had seen two souls that would join together through grief, two souls born of the same terrible ailment that was eternal life and she had thrown them together so that, even in her time of passing, she could give her friends one, last, final gift. The last wish of Twilight Sparkle was not one spoken, it was not one whispered or wheezed or hissed. It was the thought, the idea that maybe, just maybe she could link two souls together through her demise, that maybe, just maybe they could make each other see that life was not over, that there was some much more to live through, that life would go on, would always go on.

Twilight Sparkle had given her final gift to them and it was magical.

Eventually, after what felt like mere seconds filled with bliss and warmth and compassion, the dragon and the princess pulled away from each other, the magenta eyes hidden behind closed eyelids as she breathed heavily, an actual smile painting her face, full of happiness and joy, not spoilt by sadness or misery. With a light sigh of relief and comfort, the thousand year old princess sunk her head into the thick, purple, warm, protective scales of the dragon, resting against him happily as he continued to draw breath into his lungs, eyes wide and pulse racing.

Spike turned his head to face out of the window again, to gaze into the stars and, for the faintest second, for the quickest moment he thought he saw a face take shape from the twinkling objects, a lavender sparkle glittering and gleaming in the night sky, a painfully familiar smile dotting the features of the sky before it was whisked away by the passing wind, falling into the ethereal sky.

And he knew that wherever she was now, wherever she rested, Twilight Sparkle was looking down upon them and smiling and, for the first time in days, Spike allowed his thoughts to turn towards the future and what it could bring to him, of the joys that could be obtained, of the life he could live.

Twilight Sparkle had reached out to him one final time and she had given him a gift that would span the ages.

Authors notes:

Well, there we go. I just finished a piece of writing that was over 10,000 in under two days. Man it feels good. Anyway, as I have stated this is my first time writing a sad story and it is also my first time writing a romance story so tell me what you think. Was it too boring? Too random? Too soon?

Read and enjoy, I hope. I may create an epilogue for this depending on the reviews I get.

Epilogue

Epilogue

Epilogue

It was a sunny day, a day where the birds sang and the bees buzzed and the plants danced and the wind blew softly and coolly over the hills and the trees and the land. It was a day where foals and fillies would be playing and mares and stallions would be singing and laughing. It was a perfect day, the perfect day and as Spike looked up at the clear blue skies with the chattering, chanting, chuckling birds and the radiant sun he couldn't help but let a small, soft, sad smile cross his draconian features, sharp but tiny fangs just becoming visible in the pale yellow gaze of the luminous orange sphere that rested so snugly in the sky.

He had grown, not by much for the growth rate of a dragon was a rather slow, rather boring process but he had most certainly grown, a fact that he was partially proud at. His purple and green scales now shone with a lustre that would make even the most famous jewellers jealous and his height had increased, allowing him to stand over the larger stallions whenever he would take a stroll into Canterlot. Acceptance had been a quick thing for the ponies in the capitol, especially with the added backing of the Princess of the Sun herself, and now there were no horrified shrieks when he walked down the cobbled streets, no calls for his removal and no stories that foals were told about the dragon who would eat them if they didn't come home in time for tea. He had been okay with that story to be honest to the denizens of Canterlot, the idea of him munching on foals had certainly managed to keep the average level of destruction and mayhem to a minimum, well, at least after the foals tea times had come to pass.

Mentally he had grown too, both his personality and his mind having absorbed knowledge and lessons and experiences that had shaped his once young and childish mind into that of an adult. Responsibility had helped shape him, his job as the Canterlot Librarian providing experiences and lessons that he had not learnt, moulding the foolish drake into a new, civilized and wise citizen. He had maintained the job for the last ten years of his life in Canterlot, having taken over from the old and wizened mare who had once roamed the libraries shelves, Miss Tome. She had been a kind mare, with wrinkles that had laced her faint yellow coat like a spiders web, the same faint yellow coat that brought back old but not forgotten memories for Spike, each memory after seeing her having revolved around a humble and kind yellow mare living beside the dark and dangerous forest. He had attended her funeral, Miss Tome, when she had breathed her last breath a mere two years after the care of the library had been handed over to Spike and though he had not known her for long and though they had never talked for more than an hour at a time he had still wept because loss was yet another lesson that he had learnt and yet another experience that he had survived through.

Memories of the old librarian whistled through Spike's mind like a faint remnant of a dream as he walked calmly and quickly down the old beaten dirt path that he had been following for the last few minutes, a small bundle of carefully wrapped wooden stalks that had been merged into a basket nestled under one of his purple scaled arms. Each step he took along the speckled brown path kicked up another waft of remorseful dirt which was sent spiralling into the wind to find a new home for itself.

As he walked the old path a collection, a cacophony of different coloured mares, stallions, fillies and foals moved past him, some garbed in black dress, some singing and laughing, some sombre and silent and others smiling with bullet tears in their eyes. Each equine that walked past him shot him a light glance with eyes that didn't really care about his appearance and, quickly enough, each pair of eyes returned to the path, dismissing the draconian figure that continued to move down the journeyed groove. Spike passed a lone cherry tree, its branches laden with heavy buds yet to bloom, weighing down the tree and causing it to droop slightly, raking across his left shoulder as he walked past, reptilian eyes picking up on the faintest traces of pink which blossomed majestically from the tree, once again dredging up another memory from his mind. Pink and bouncy and spiralling in the wind and free, petals as free as a bird as they danced through the sky and the memory of a mare as pink as those petals and similarly as free.

A family passed him, a mare and a stallion leading along a small and fragile looking colt who had the sparkle of the bright world in his eyes. They seemed like a young family, the mare still having a succulent coat of shining emerald whilst the stallion had managed to maintain a full head of luscious black hair which sat atop his golden bodied head like the covering of snow on a mountain top. An object caught Spike's careful eye, a small brown, worn, beaten object that flared to life in his eyes only, an object which sat atop the young colts head as the family passed him, eyes tracing his presence before they swivelled away. A stetson. A steson atop the colts head, that image caught in Spike's eyes and he laughed aloud but it was a choked laugh, a laugh filled with unladen memories and emotions of a hard working, level headed mare who wouldn't let anything slow her down.

A small, crudely painted gate stood feebly in the distance, an old, golden hatch glinting in the blazing sun as Spike neared the barrier of brown dappled wood, his feet treading suddenly on soft green grass as he reached his one free hand out to gently lift the hatch, the gate swinging free with a timid creak. Closing the gate, Spike tossed his scrutiny upwards, canopy green eyes wincing as gleeful sunlight poured into his irises, a puffy white cloud temporarily blocking the mischievous luminosity from piercing his perfect pools. His sight lingered on the cloud and, for a split second, he half expected to see a hole appear in the middle of the cloud, he half expected to see a cyan mare with all of the colours of the rainbow poke her head over and he half expected to hear the scratchy voice call out to him, as a friend and as a companion. But there was no hole in the cloud, or face in the sky or voice calling from above. There was only silence and Spike turned away silently.

He walked along a new path now, one that was meticulously clean and perfect, fields of eloquently shaved grass bending underneath his feet as he passed by a variety of stone faces that rose up from all sides around him like an enclosing tide of water. His left hand, claws neatly trimmed, skimmed over something, something smooth and refined and cold and he paused to eye whatever had snagged his hand. A pure white marble headstone sat to his side, its surface only touched by deeply set engraved words, the rest remaining a magnificent and royal snow white casing. Visions of soft white fur with soft purple curls drifted into his mind, a distant but elegant voice called in his ears as Spike the dragon shuddered as a single tear fell from his eyes, splattering the ground in silence. And then, just as swiftly as his stop, the tall dragon was moving again.

He came to a rest moments later, his feet tearing up tufts of grass as his sharpened talons dug into the earth. The sun still blazed high in the sky as Spike the dragon knelt on his tremendous legs to brush off a single, wind whipped piece of grass from the glimmering black headstone before him, a set of six different images surrounding the centre of the headstone.

Balloons and gems.

Apples and butterflies

A rainbow and a star.

And in the centre of it all stood engraved, precise writing:

Here lies Twilight Sparkle
Bearer of the Element of Magic
Royal student of Princess Celestia
“True magic doesn't stem from a horn, it comes from
friendship and she had the best of friends.”
Rest in peace

And underneath, in scrawled, haphazard and broken writing rested another message:

“I'll miss you Twilight, I hope you'll miss me too.”

Spike the dragon took the basket from his hands, and with a gentle touch, pulled a bouquet of purple lilacs from its depths before he rested them on the grave of his mother, teacher and dear friend.

“Its been a while Twilight.”

His voice was quiet, cracks breaking apart every other word.

“I would have thought that in ten years the pain would have gone but it hasn't. I miss you more each and every day.”

A tear dribbled down his cheek.

“I miss your voice and your smile and your eyes. Everyday I wake up and I miss them all a little more.”

Another tear, this one was swept away by a scaled hand.

“I wish you'd nag me. I wish you'd yell at me. I wish you'd talk to me. But you can't...

You can't.”

Emerald eyes became ruby.

“I've learnt so many things Twilight, I've experienced so many things but this, coming here and speaking to you and missing you it...it never gets any easier and I can never, ever get used to it.”

Claws dug into the ground.

“I wish you'd come home... I wish you'd see the library, I've made it better, much better.”

Grass swayed beneath the body of a giant.

“There are so many books now that I think you'd like, I should...I should bring you some next time. Yeah, next time...”

A stuttered gasp, an intake of breath.

“I still need to thank you though, like I have done every year because you gave me a great gift, the best.”

A sniffle.

“I wouldn't have been able to cope, you know? Without you I would've just...stopped. But you gave me something to live for.”

A choked sob.

“Thank you. I say it every time and every time I mean it. Maybe I mean it more and more as the years pass.”

Hands brought something else from the basket.

“I miss you Twilight but I think...I think maybe I love her just as much as I miss you.”

A small red box was brought forth.

“She makes me laugh and smile and she makes me cry. She is the only reason I can get up in the mornings, she is the only reason I can survive being here.”

The box opened and something sparkled.

“What do you think Twilight? I love her, so much that it hurts. I love her so much that every second away hurts, every second away grates on my soul.”

Sunlight caught the inside of the box, a kaleidoscope forming from its depths.

“I can't bear to be apart from her Twilight but you need to know before I do anything because you were my very best friend. You deserve to be the first to know.”

A glittering ring sat in the centre of the box, throwing off the light and spreading it to the sky.

“I'm going to ask Celestia to marry me.”

A little chuckle.

“And if she says yes I'll be the happiest, luckiest, most thankful drake on the planet.”

The box closed.

“And if she says no then I will chase her for all of time, anywhere and everywhere, until I convince her.”

The ring was put back into the basket.

“So thank you Twilight, I promise you I won't let your gift escape me. Never.”

A delicate sound made Spike turn his head, just in time to see white wings fold into a white body, just in time to see golden shoes touch the ground, just in time to see a swirling cascade of billowing multicoloured hair spiral around a white, perfect and beautiful head, just in time to see magenta eyes filled with love and compassion. And his little dragon heart beat faster and faster.

Princess Celestia stood stock still at the entrance of the graveyard, waiting for Spike to finish his farewell, a patient and pure smile lighting up her face as she caught Spike's eyes.

And suddenly Spike wanted to run to her, to embrace her and cry and cry and cry like he had done all those years ago because Twilight Sparkle was still dead and there was nothing he could do about it. But he had grown, he had learnt in his sparse ten years and so he turned back to the delicate burial site and whispered gently, as if they would break in the air.

“Goodbye Twilight. I love you. I always will.”

Spike stood up and began to walk back to Celestia, back to his lover but emotions guided his feet and sadness guided his mind and soon he was running to her and wrapping her in his arms and crying with tears that seemed to never want to stop and she was whispering to him, comforting him even as tears filled her eyes and spilt down her cheeks.

Together they cried, tears glittering in the air like blue diamonds.

Together they cried, as pink petals drifted joyously around them.

Together they cried as clouds parted to reveal a cyan sky carved by a rainbow.

Together they cried as animals danced amidst the pale yellow daffodils in the field around.

Together they cried as a lone foal picked up his misplaced stetson from down the crooked path.

Together they cried as lilacs danced in the fragile breeze trickling through the air.

And together they left the pain and the misery behind them, together they walked through the gate and together they laughed at their own foolishness.

Spike shot his eyes back at the resting place of his friend, his mother, as the sunlight dimmed and as Celestia pecked him lightly on the cheek.

And somewhere, far, far above the clouds, surrounded by five friends, Twilight Sparkle smiled a soft, proud smile.

Authors Notes:

It's been a while. Quite a long time actually but I finished the epilogue. Sorry about the disappearance, I lost interest in writing for a very long time but I think I'm going to start up again soon.

Please do remember that this was written before Alicorn Twilight was born so in this Twilight is entirely mortal.

Anyway, tell me what you think of this reasonably short epilogue and if you have any constructive criticism to provide, please do leave a comment.

Oh, and the reason that it took Spike 10 long years to pop the question is because he can live forever, what's the point in rushing things? Hell, if I could live forever I'd spend a solid majority of my time doing nothing rather than getting stuff done.