The paper goods store was, for the most part, empty. On the best of days, it attracted a couple customers and some window-shoppers who deliberated whether or not to buy parchment and then realized they would need to buy a new quill at the local Quills and Sofas shop first. In a town as small as Ponyville, it would have been a logical decision for the paper store to expand its products to garner a larger clientele, but in the unofficial friendship capital of the world, ponies did their best to avoid putting their neighbors out of business. As a courtesy to the ponies who would as a result be unable to hold down their destined jobs, the Stationery Shoppe remained strictly paper-only.
The quaint shop was experiencing one of its most sluggish days. A gray pegasus hovered by a rack of greeting cards, either entranced by their witticisms or sleeping with her eyes open. Two well-known ponies chatted as they made their way to the larger section of cards: one, a fair-coated unicorn; the other, Ponyville’s resident alicorn.
“I don’t understand how you could put it off this long, Twilight,” Rarity remarked as she perused the shelves. “You usually have a card picked out months in advance.”
“I know. But I had a lot of paperwork,” her friend sighed. Royal duties were exhausting, Rarity knew, and sometimes dates slipped Twilight’s mind because of them. But Spike’s birthday was an awfully important date to nearly forget.
Ten minutes prior, Rarity had mentioned that she planned to buy her favorite little dragon a birthday card. Grateful for the reminder and also needing a card, Twilight had offered to accompany her.
“He’d like this one, don’t you think?” Rarity asked, lifting a card off the shelf with her magic. The cover featured a drawing of a stickpony in a colorful birthday hat. Rarity opened the card, read the inside, and giggled. “Oh, never mind – Spike isn’t turning three years old.”
Twilight smiled. “The cards are split into sections.” She walked farther down the aisle. “Those are age-specific cards. Over there, you can find cards for cute-ceañeras, weddings, and other milestones. And over here are the more basic ones. All labeled and perfectly organized.”
She stopped in front of a section labeled friendship. “Oh, this is the same card I bought Applejack for her birthday! I thought these would have sold out by now – the poem inside is beautiful.” Twilight gave the card to Rarity, who took it with her own magic.
The poem was indeed beautiful, although Rarity was certain the figurative language had been lost on Applejack. She replaced the card and studied the shelf for something that suited Spike.
“Do you suppose this store carries cards based on that game Spike plays? Ogres and Oubliettes, was it?”
Twilight didn’t answer. Rarity plucked another card from the friendship shelf and hummed quietly. The outside was festive enough, but the inside was plain. At least it left room for a heartfelt horn-written message. Rarity was excellent at writing those.
She looked to see how Twilight was faring, but her friend was not immersed in choosing a card as she’d assumed. Twilight hadn’t lifted a single card; instead, she stood still, staring fixedly at the rows lining the shelf.
“Darling? Are you all right?”
Twilight pried her gaze off the cards, turning to Rarity with perplexed eyes. “I – yes, I am. I just realized… I have no idea what sort of card to get Spike.”
“What do you mean?” Rarity examined the shelf. They were all birthday cards, but no – that wasn’t what Twilight meant. An assortment of labels stuck out to her: father’s birthday, mother’s birthday, brother’s, sister’s, daughter’s, son’s…
“I just don’t know,” Twilight said by way of explanation. “I don’t know which category Spike falls under. I don’t know what he would want.”
“Well” – Rarity had always wanted to ask – “what do you view him as?”
Twilight bit her lip. “I know I used to call him my Number One Assistant, but of course he’s more than that. He’s my oldest friend – my closest friend, actually, in some ways. And I used to get him friendship cards for his birthday, but after all that’s happened this year… I realized he’s not just my friend. He’s family.”
“Well, of course,” Rarity said. “The girls and I realized that a long while ago.”
“Really?” Twilight looked lost in thought for a moment. “I wish I had realized it sooner. Anyway, I wanted to get him a family-related card.” She gestured helplessly at the shelf. “But I don’t know what applies best.”
Yes, this was a conundrum. Rarity read the labels; there were no cards tagged family. “How about a card for” – she assessed the tags – “colts? Spikey-wikey may not be a pony, but I doubt the cards are species-specific.”
Twilight trotted closer to the shelf and read a few. Her head was shaking before she’d even replaced the cards. “They’re for young colts; Spike’s not even a baby dragon anymore. Dragons age slower than ponies, but even by dragon standards he’s a teenager.” She looked somewhat wistful at that.
Rarity wasn’t sure if it would sound silly to ask, but – “Do you see him as your child, of sorts?”
Twilight smiled softly; Rarity concluded that she had expected the question. “It’s funny: a year ago, I would never have considered that. I probably would have laughed at the idea, actually. But after that fiasco a few months back – remember the dragon who pretended to be his father? – I started thinking about what Spike means to me.”
Seeing Rarity’s arched eyebrow, she clarified, “I wouldn’t say I see Spike as – as a son. But ever since that day, I’ve thought of him as not just a kid, but my kid. And I’ve thought a lot about the times I wasn’t there for him, and about the ways I could have shown him…”
She lowered her head. “Anyway, it’s not like I raised him. Celestia took him for the first year, and my parents looked after him until he was eight.”
Rarity laid a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t helped raise him.”
Twilight smiled a little sardonically. “Either way, he doesn’t think of me as his mother. To him, we’re closer to being siblings. We definitely act like it sometimes.”
Sometimes. The times when Twilight would freak out, and Spike would have to keep her in check. The times when he would act deliberately immature, and she would happily ignore him until it turned personal.
But there were other times – times when Twilight would comfort him when he was upset, or whenever she chastised him for bad behavior. Like a mother, yes, if one could picture Twilight Sparkle in such a role. Motherly sisters did exist, of course, and perhaps Twilight saw herself as one. Rarity often felt maternal toward Sweetie Belle, but in many ways Twilight and Spike’s relationship was different from theirs.
“If you think he would appreciate a sibling’s birthday card –”
“But I don’t know!” Twilight said, whirling to stare at the shelf once more. “I just feel like the word brother doesn’t match. It doesn’t fit right. But son doesn’t, either. And I’d go with a friendship card, as always, but that seems so… inadequate!”
Rarity hmm’ed and pondered the shelf in front of her. The labels stood out like stitch markers on a knitting needle.
There was only one logical course of action, then – other than scouring the shelf for the perfect card that happened to be under one label but was vague enough to apply to Spike, which was what Twilight planned on doing, judging by the look on her face. No, there was only one option.
Rarity trotted in the opposite direction.
“Rarity –? I don’t mean to say that friendship is inadequate, I just –”
“Now, then.” Rarity lifted a card from the end of the shelf, read it, and gave it to Twilight. “I do believe you’ve worried about labels enough for today.”
Twilight read the card. It was short and sweet and meaningful, all without using the words mother, son, brother, sister, or friend.
“Oh… you’re right.” She closed the all-purpose birthday card. “But –”
“I shall help you compose a heartfelt message that will blow any other cards out of the water, and you can tell Spike exactly what you’d like him to know, the way you’d like to say it. Regardless of what the card itself says, your words would mean far more to him than some silly mass-produced poem.”
Twilight’s eyes shone. She looked at the card again, and then pulled Rarity into a hug. “That’s… you’re right. Thank you.”
“Of course, darling.” Rarity patted her on the back, and then reached for a card of her own. “Now, are you ready to go? I still have to purchase decorations for the party.”
Twilight jolted backward, spreading her wings. “What? I thought Pinkie Pie was managing everything.”
“I told her I’d assist her. And I’ve delayed doing so due to my schedule, but the party is in only two days,” Rarity said pointedly.
“Right.” Twilight exhaled, rereading the card in her magic field. Then closing it. And then reopening it.
Rarity gently took the card from Twilight. “Whatever you want to write, I’m certain he will love it. I will make sure of that, all right?”
Twilight smiled, making a visible effort to dispel her worries. “I know, Rarity. Thank you.”
And at last, the two ponies made their way to the register, ready for checkout.
