His Greatest Mistake
A tale about the fallibility of our love
Starring Spike and Rarity
By: OneLonelyPickle
It was 10:00 at night. Spike stared intensely at the door to the Restored Golden Oaks Library. His left leg was rapidly kicking the floor in anxiety. He contracted his throat muscles in a long, drawn-out gulp. At any moment, Rarity was going to come in, and his life would come crashing to the ground in a burning, smoking heap of disaster.
The purple and green dragon was no longer a kid like he had been all those years ago when he first moved to Ponyville with Twilight Sparkle. It was the very fact that he was not a kid that drove him crazy wondering why he had done what he did.
Spike searched every part of his mind for an answer. Feeling the strength of his knees give, he took a seat on a wooden chair beside Twilight’s old lectern. She didn’t live there anymore, and didn’t use it anymore, but Spike liked to keep it around for nostalgia’s sake.
“I’ll… I’ll just have to say sorry!” Spike decided, clasping his claws together and resting his elbows on his thighs. Each digit was pressed hard on the back of a scaly hand as the entwined fingers turned near white from the pressure. “I’ll say sorry and tell Rarity that it will never, ever, ever, ever—”
The adolescent dragon dropped his head between his claws and gritted his teeth.
“D-Dang it!”
He stayed that way for an achingly long length of time. There were no sounds to distract him — the thick bark of the library-cum-tree insulated any outside noises — save one: his own heavy breathing. Spike realized how excessive his panting was and exerted a monstrous grunt, like an angry beast discovering sentience for the first time.
Spike raised his head and looked around, taking great care not to let his eyes stumble onto any pictures of him and Rarity. There were, obviously, quite a few. He couldn’t think about her — he had to find a distraction.
Ah, there — the picture of him, Twilight, and Owlowiscious from back when the owl assistant was still a new addition to the Golden Oaks team. The nostalgic polaroid made Spike smile.
Time had flown by as if guided by magic in the recent years of Spike’s life. There was never a dull moment to recall how things used to be. Somehow, Spike had forgotten the baby dragon that he used to be. The baby dragon who used to help Twilight with her friendship lessons and tag along on the occasional adventure. It was only when he started to mature and take shape as a fully-grown dragon, with more masculine features, that he found his time occupied by females beyond Twilight (and when it was Twilight, it was just as a friend and assistant).
Spike could vividly recall the first romantic encounter he had had with the opposite sex. Wild, passionate, juvenile… there was groping and kissing and licking and not much acclaim for restraint. She was just young enough, just naïve enough, just attractive enough for Spike to get his horny claws into her. He didn’t think with his brain back then. When was the last time that he did, though? When he was a baby dragon?
After that first time, the sexual escapades — and that’s all they were before Rarity — increased in number and severity. Spike’s dragon tendencies and personality had bloomed alongside his biological maturity. The Diamond Dogs would call such mannerisms the tools of the “alpha male”, though by the time he was sitting in the library, waiting for his doom to approach, Spike would call them his most hated traits.
Inevitably, Spike’s draconic orbs locked onto a polaroid in a silver frame. A special polaroid. A vice grip clenched Spike’s heart and he involuntarily groaned. Him and Rarity, their first picture as a couple.
How could any mare compare with her? Spike’s lips curled into an out-of-place smile. He couldn’t fight it. Seeing Rarity’s amethyst mane, sparkling and shimmering like the gem its color most resembled, even through a less-than-stellar old picture, gave Spike that feeling of butterflies once more. Her pristine white coat. The ocean-blue eyes that held a fashionista’s infinite passion for all things chic and haute couture. Spike chuckled. He still had no idea what the words meant.
And on the other side of the cursed picture was Spike. A year younger. Certainly, much wiser, since that Spike never cheated. His green eyes were filled with a hope that would betray the actions of his future self. He flashed a cocky, teenage grin. No doubt he was handsome, and no doubt that fact helped secure Rarity as his marefriend. But Spike wanted to do nothing more, as his fists shook, then knock every pearly white out of his past self’s mocking visage.
Spike bit on part of his fist and his eyes watered. He burned a hole through the polaroid with his jilted gaze. Where did it all go so wrong?
All the sex, all the domination, the intense feeling of sexual power… none of it mattered in the end. There was no joy in those memories, and there was no peace in the realization that he had finally hit the utter bottom. There was no lower Spike could fall — the sexual depravity had finally caused him to lose everything. At least, he assumed that would be the case.
It was up to Rarity what would happen from—
The door to the library flew open, groaning as it almost flew off its hinges. Spike had been too deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized what time it was. He hadn’t adequately prepared himself. Spike caught a quick glance of Rarity, or at least, a form of white and indigo that had to be her. A part of him hoped he was wrong, but that part quickly faded.
A slamming sound, wood against wood, echoed throughout the room. Spike’s heavy breathing was no match for the deep, desperate, pleading pants of the mare of his dreams. It was as if she had just run a marathon.
“You…!”
That’s all Rarity said. That’s all she needed to say. The venom in her tone gave away the truth clear and crystal.
She knew.
Spike bit his bottom lip and looked down to his shaking claws. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to recall bright visions of yesteryear to distract him from the intense gravity of the here-and-now. Yes, that’d be the escape plan.
“YOU PIG!”
No such luck retreating into his head. Spike dared to look up. All he saw was a blur before something cracked him in the forehead and sent him backwards.
He certainly felt whatever it was. Rarity’s hoof, no doubt. Spike would have done the same thing if the metaphorical shoe was on the other claw (assuming the genders were also switched, of course).
Who could blame Rarity? Spike laid on the floor without twitching a muscle. His empty gaze studied the wooden swirl of the ceiling, searching for a miracle. The dusty floor beneath felt like the natural place for Spike’s disgusting form to lay in wait for whatever might happen.
Nevertheless, some unconscious force pounded at Spike’s heart. An unrelenting twang that refused to back down. It gave him that old fluttery feeling in the pit of his gut, even then. He had to look up. He had to see the mare he loved.
But when he looked up, he didn’t see the mare he loved. He saw a disheveled mane, with pieces of hair stuck up at random places and angles, and moist, azure eyes throbbing with vengeance. A streak of mascara against off-white cheeks. Fur that ought to be glowing and pure smeared with melancholy. Vibrating teeth clenched into a tight, hard gnash.
Spike was looking at a demon. And the demon, once called Rarity, took another heavy swing at him. The blow sent him backwards again. It must have hurt, to some degree, though Spike could no longer feel anything.
“HOW COULD YOU DO THAT! TO US! TO HER! TO MY OWN SISTER! TO US! SPIKE!”
The urge to vomit welled up in Spike’s lower throat. His mouth was dryer than a hunk of dragon charcoal. He clutched at his chest, scratching at it as if something needed to be revealed to the world and he had to claw it out. He picked his body up off the floor and stood up. He stared off to the side, claw rubbing the back of his neck.
“I don’t know. I’m stupid, Rarity. So, so stupid…”
Stupid. He was so stupid. That was all he could think to say. Spike continued rambling, his mind losing track of his mouth.
“And if I could take it back, of course I would! Do you know how much it hurts knowing what I did?”
Bad idea. Rarity snapped back.
“DO I KNOW HOW MUCH IT HURTS YOU? Oh Spike, I’m sorry dear, BUT I DON’T! AND I DON’T CARE, EITHER! ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?”
Spike took a step back and braced for further impact. He was more worried about Rarity’s verbal assault opposed to the physical one, as he was twice her size and quite sturdy, what with his dragon scales and all. Spike frantically waved his claw in front of him like he was gesturing for more time to think. To come up with the right thing to say.
“S-sorry, I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean — Rarity, listen, I —”
“NO, YOU LISTEN! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING FROM YOU RIGHT NOW BECAUSE FRANKLY I WON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU SAY!”
Spike had seen enough of devil Rarity and refused to look up at her face. A mare scorned was truly a beast on a different level than an adult, male dragon. Instead, Spike looked at his claws as he fiddled them. They were sweaty, clammy, empty.
“Oka — I mean…” Spike finally shut up. He tried to reclaim the moisture in his mouth, but no matter how much he moved his tongue around, it was bone dry. His heart beat so fast, so intensely, it felt like a hummingbird was trapped inside his ribcage. Rarity’s heavy breathing was even louder than the pounding in Spike’s brain. She started up again with a devastated voice.
“WAS IT WORTH IT? TELL ME, WAS GETTING WITH MY LITTLE BABY SISTER WORTH ALL OF THIS? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO US? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
Spike heard the familiar whine from Rarity that meant crying was about to happen. Sure as the morning sun, a moment later, Rarity began to ball. Spike held his head in his claws.
No… Anything but that! Please! Just hit me! Get mad! But don’t…
Rarity’s wailing was thick with emotion, a sullen sadness like a heavy morning fog on a grey, cloudy day. Every second of her anguished cries was like a stab to Spike’s chest, which he was clutching to for dear life. He felt salty liquid pool at the corners of his own eyes.
A strong yearning urged him to wrap Rarity in a warm, protective embrace. Like he’d done when she lost the Manehatten Fashion Show earlier that year. Or when her gift for Spike for Hearth’s Warming sat in the cold snow overnight and had shrunk from a snug sweater to the size of a pathetic mug cozy. Spike closed his eyes and once again his top and bottom rows of dragon fangs pushed up against one another.
He couldn’t hug her. Not then. Not after everything. He couldn’t. It was all he wanted, but he had lost that right. He knew it all too well.
“Rarity… please…” he said quietly. He bit his lower lip and tightened his closed eyelids even more, tears still managing to escape out of their sides. “Just hit me but, please don’t cry…”
Rarity’s reply was an instantaneous snarl.
“SHUT UP! DON’T TALK! DON’T ASK ME TO DO ANYTHING AFTER WHAT YOU DID! I’LL CRY AS MUCH AS I WANT!”
Spike ground his fangs together and fell onto his knees again. His balled-up claws throbbed in pain as Spike’s knuckles dug into the floor of the library. His entire body shook with a myriad of different feelings fighting for dominance. Finally, he jumped to his feet and screamed at Rarity.
“I SAID I WAS SORRY OKAY?”
That took Rarity off her guard and she stepped back, eyes wide with surprise, nostrils flared. Spike’s roars continued as his emerald dragon eyes burned with rage.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? DO YOU” — He waved his claws frantically as if he might rip an answer out of thin air — “DO YOU WANT ME TO BEG? OR OR OR SHOULD I JUST GO TELL ALL OF EQUESTRIA WHAT I DID?” Spike paced back and forth. “THAT’S IT I’LL GO LET EVERYPONY KNOW WHAT A PIECE OF GARBAGE I AM! THAT’S GONNA FIX EVERYTHING! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!”
When his brazen rant was over, Spike’s chest heaved in and out like a piston was working in overdrive just underneath. He fixed his eyes on Rarity’s and, without even realizing it, glared at her with his most feral of dragon stares. Rarity’s pupils were shaky dots, surrounded by a sea of glistening white. She took another step back and shook her head as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
“You’re a monster…”
Spike snapped back.
“I’m a dragon! You picked me, remember?”
Rarity’s expression, an intense look of disappointment married to disbelief, shook Spike back to the present moment. His shoulders slumped back down and his face relaxed. The red from his vision disappeared and he could feel his body once more. He licked his lips and stared around the room. Everything was real. Everything was tangible again. He fell to his knees a third time.
“Rarity I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened I ju—”
“No, no. Don’t give it a second thought, dar— ahem, Spike.”
Rarity closed her eyes and sighed. She forced a light smile and shook her head.
“This isn’t worth any more fuss. It’s over.”
Spike blinked at Rarity, who had turned around with a sniffle. Time stood still. He cocked his head.
“W-what did you say?” he asked as if it was just a simple question like, “What would you like for dinner?”
Rarity fought back her sniffles and pushed at the front door with a tense hoof.
“I said it’s over. You and I. Whatever we had — obviously not LOVE since you — well, anyway.”
She walked forward and stopped with half of her body out of the library.
“I’ll… mail you whatever things of yours you have left at my shops. Please don’t come around anymore. And please try to maintain yourself with the press. And I’d appreciate it if you left my sister well enough alone.” Rarity spoke her following words with poorly concealed ire. “I already have quite a lot to discuss with her.”
Then, with a toss of her mane, Rarity left. The door closed behind her. She was gone.
A lifetime of confusion passed for Spike. The library around him turned into out-of-focus shapes and forms he couldn’t comprehend. He searched on the floor with claws that had turned pale. His mouth was moving a mile a minute, trying to bring up words, though his mind couldn’t create any. Ten thousand thoughts flew around his brain like ten thousand buzzflies in the middle of swarming season.
A tsunami of realization crashed over Spike and threatened to drown him.
“W-w-wait!” he shouted at the wooden door to the library. Spike looked up, frantic and terrified. He dragged his body forward, still on his knees.
“WAIT RARITY! WAIT! WAIT!”
Spike dug his claws into the floor. Once again, his teeth slammed together.
“You can’t just leave… you can’t just end everything we had like that… RARITY!”
His draconic strength forced the wood under his claws aside, but at the cost of the flesh at the ends of his fingers. He strained until they were red and raw. And when the pain was at its apex, he rose his arms above his head and slammed them down on the floor and clawed as if his life depended on it. He slashed the floor, feverish and insane. His voice cracked and changed tones as he shouted.
“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO…”
He didn’t relent for a single second. The floor became a tattered mess of wood chippings and, eventually, the wood had been cleared away and all that was left was soil. Spike had clawed his way a few feet underground. His mind was long gone. The dragon side took over.
Spike roared. He leapt out of the pit he had dug and sent a rock-hard dragon fist at the door, crashing straight through it with little effort. When that was done, he quickly pulled back his arm and took another strike with an animalistic grunt. Then another. Then a few dozen more. The door became swiss cheese after a half hour of violence that felt more like a hundred years. Spike couldn’t feel his claws or his knees by the end of it.
The clock read 11:18 when Spike finally glanced at it. He rolled onto his back and caught his breath. He once again stared at the ceiling of the main floor of the Restored Golden Oak Library. All it was was a tan-colored, wooden, swirly pattern. Simple. It was barely a distraction. Spike’s boiling dragon blood began to cool, and the impact of the situation was setting in, heavy and fast.
She’s leaving me… it’s over…
Spike gripped his scalp and dug his claws into his purple scalp.
“CELESTIA NO!” he said out loud, trying as hard as he could to keep the muscles at the ends of his mouth pulled upward into a forced smile, “NO NO NO — WAIT!” A lightbulb went off in Spike’s head. “Rarity just needs some time to relax! To calm down! And when she does, everything’s going to be back to normal!”
Spike panted with an open mouth smile. His eyes were still wet, his chest rising up and down in the aftermath of catching his breath. He tapped a claw on the wood that still remained on the floor.
“After all, Rarity can be like this,” Spike reasoned with himself.
No, it’s really over, Spike. She’s leaving you. You went too far this time. You got caught.
Spike gritted his fangs together and slammed his balled-up claw into the wood.
“It can’t be over! That’s ridiculous! We’re meant to be together, me and her!”
He scooped himself up and crawled over to a picture. Him and Rarity. Four months earlier. Their smiles and blushes gave it away: the picture was taken in the height of limerence. Spike could still feel that same heartbeat, bold and rapid, like it was yesterday. He smiled as if nothing had happened, as if the event in the picture had just occurred.
He gripped the photo frame with shaky claws.
“Look at us! We’re perfect! And all that time I spent chasing her when I was younger…”
He hurriedly, greedily clawed at another picture on an opposite wall’s shelf. He laughed awkwardly, as if to convince himself that everything would be okay.
“And here we are at the Fall Fair! Look how happy we are — that Pinkie Pie in the back! Haha, what a photobomb!”
Spike’s grip became tighter than he planned, and the picture frame snapped in half with a hollow thud. He blinked at the mess of a picture frame, his breathing unsteady.
“Wha — why…”
Spike bit his lower lip so hard it bruised instantly. He brought a shaky claw up to his skull and started to cry.
“WHY DO I KEEP MESSING UP!”
Spike screamed again and threw the broke photo frame over to the other side of the library. It unceremoniously banged against a bookshelf and crashed onto the floor. Spike screamed at the top of his lungs, rattling Twilight’s old trinkets on their shelves.
Suddenly, he looked back at the remains of the front door and assumed a fight-or-flight pose, as if he was in danger. As if he was some kind of cornered creature.
“Wait, I can stop her!”
Spike dug into the floor with his feet and launched himself forward with a flap of his wings. He tackled through the door. The cool late-summer air felt good on his heated scales.
“I can still fix this!” he convinced himself. He took to the air and flew over the town of Ponyville, which was settling into a private evening behind closed doors. The sun had set hours ago. Spike headed for Carousel Boutique with fire in his eyes.
I’m gonna fix everything!
Spike slammed down onto the dirt a few paces from Rarity’s shop. He caught his breath. The lights were on inside. He furrowed his brow and looked at the door with determination. He was going to do it!
A brisk gust of wind slapped him in the face and jostled his head crest. Spike blinked back to reality. He looked around. Nopony was around. The streets were empty and lonely. Then he looked up.
A million stars formed an unending river of glowing white against the background of a light-absorbing black void. The infinite collection of twinkling balls of gas stained their image on Spike’s eyes. It was so beautiful, so breathtaking, that he almost forgot how utterly destroyed his entire life was.
Spike closed his eyes and sighed.
He heard the door of the Boutique open then close. Spike opened his eyes and looked down to see Princess Twilight Sparkle. Predictably, she didn’t look all too happy to see Spike after a month of absence.
“It’s probably best if you just go home, Spike.”
Spike’s heart hurt seeing the look of disappointment on Twilight’s face almost as much as it hurt seeing Rarity post-heartbreak. Almost. Spike lips twitched.
“I… I just thought I could — maybe…”
Twilight shook her head slowly. Spike hadn’t seen her so crestfallen in years.
“There’s nothing else for you to do, Spike. Just go home. We can talk tomorrow.”
Twilight pointed her brow down towards her snout and Spike had to look away.
“You can probably imagine how disappointed I am with you. You’re lucky that I sensed you out here before Rainbow Dash or — princesses forbid — Applejack saw you.”
Another cold gust of wind blew through Ponyville. Spike slunk his head down and turned around. He shuffled forward, having a vague idea of which direction the library was. It was not far from Twilight’s old castle. The whole town had gathered to plant its magical seed. It was probably a year and a half ago. Spike couldn’t help but remember the stares he and Rarity exchanged. It was the first time he remembered seeing her look at him as a potential lover and not just a friend.
Spike didn’t bother flying back to the library. He felt like walking, slow and steady. Without purpose. His energy was sapped. His legs only moved because he forced them with all his might. They’d have rather collapsed. He’d have rather curled into a ball and became a rock. A rock that could remain motionless until the end of time, only observing happiness and powerless to destroy it.
Crickets chirped. Moths fluttered by. The odd firefly entered Spike’s groundward gaze. Nothing. Everything. Who cared?
At some point Spike’s head bonked against the wall beside the library’s entrance. He corrected his trajectory and shoved aside the last piece of the door hanging on its hinges. Once inside, he just stood in place.
There was only the sound of his faint heartbeat.
He stared at a particular picture on an old lectern of Twilight’s.
There was a baby dragon in the picture. His scales were purple and green. He had a chubby belly and a jubilant, innocent smile on his face. That dragon never would have hurt a fly, much less the mare he loved. Spike both hated that baby dragon with all of his being and missed him with a choking yearning.
Spike dragged his feet forward. He reached out emotionlessly for the picture frame. He brought it right to his face and studied his past self.
If I could have just stayed the same way… but with this body, and everything else…
Spike felt a broiling, rumbling anger rise again from the center of his stomach. His growls, along with black smoke, rolled out of the spaces between his tightly ground fangs. Some of his scales stuck up and outward. Before he noticed what had happened, the old picture of his younger self, Twilight, and Owlowiscious was crushed beneath his claw.
“WHY DID I HAVE TO BECOME LIKE THIS?!”
He started to snarl and bite at nothing. Spike glared down at his crotch and thought for a moment. He thought he might rip it out, the thing between his legs. He might just slash away until he bled out. But the adult dragon male inside him wouldn’t allow it. Spike shouted.
“ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!”
At the same time, thick, green flames shot out of Spike’s mouth. They poured out over the lectern, engulfing it in hot plasma. Spike took a step back.
Then, he turned around, completely enraptured in his rage, and screamed again. Once more flames followed, shooting forward and blasting the opposite wall. Again, and again, and again, Spike repeated. Over and over and over. Deep emerald flames and rolling black smoke filled the main floor of the Restored Golden Oak Library. The crackle and roar of the blaze drowned out Spike’s thoughts.
He sat down in the middle of the library and waited. He closed his eyes.
* * *
Spike forced his tired eyelids apart. He’d never gone so long behind the darkness of his eyelids without catching a wink of sleep before. The first sight of the new day was black. Black char and soot.
The sound of a dying flame fizzled in various directions. Tiny columns of smoke rose up toward the grey sky of an early, overcast morning. Spike was in the remains of the Restored Golden Oak Library, now finally matching its predecessor during its last moments after Tirek destroyed it. A burning heap of burnt wood and gnarled ebony.
Oh right. Dragons are impervious to dragon fire.
Spike looked at the space between his crossed legs. Black underneath that, too. Then he looked up. Past the grey smoke was grey nothingness. Spike followed the grey to the lowest part of the sky he could see over the buildings of Ponyville. The first rays of Twilight’s sun shone bright, confidently. It wasn’t long, though, until a mass of grey cloud floated into its path and covered the sun up. Everything was grey after that.
Spike noticed hushed voices in front of the library’s husk but mostly ignored them. He looked straight up once more. A fat raindrop landed squarely on the end of his snout. He closed his eyes.
Seconds later a downpour unleashed itself.
Yeah… I guess it’s over.
Three Years later
The School of Friendship. Spike had grown accustomed to its hallowed halls and many marble statues. He walked with a brisk pace toward a classroom. It was his last day. He smiled.
Spike turned a corner and was face to face with Principal Starlight Glimmer, who smiled back at him.
“Ahh, there you are, Spike!”
She stood behind the desk at the front of the empty classroom. He was only ever the sole student for that particular class, after all. Starlight continued.
“It’s been almost three years! I’m happy to say this will be your last lecture on the importance of relationship fidelity!”
Spike rubbed the back of his neck. Furry green scales jutted down from his chin like a beard. He chuckled.
“Been that long, huh? Guess time flies when you’re, uhh” — Spike looked around the room with a hum before settling on Starlight Glimmer’s smiling face — “Having fun.”
“Mhm!” Starlight hummed with a closed eye smile. Spike took his seat: first row, first from the left. Right by the window. It was a beautiful day, which was Spike’s favorite kind of day for going to class.
“Right! Let’s get to it, then! Time to wrap this up, class!” Starlight cleared her throat and blushed. “W-well, I mean, Spike!”
She turned to draw on the blackboard with some chalk. Spike usually paid pretty good attention, but something compelled him to turn to his left and stare out of the classroom. Young ponies and other creatures frolicked about in front of the school, as it was break time for all the students except him. Big Mac and Sugar Belle were seated at their usual picnic spot, and their foals had joined them. A group of ponies stood in a circle of sorts in front of the school’s entrance.
Spike’s heart dropped.
Rarity.
Well, it wasn’t just Rarity. Anyway, he only glanced at her for a moment. Every mare from the old gang was there. They were probably about to start a tour of the school. Twilight Sparkle, tall, unageing, and forever a mother figure to Spike. Seeing her made him feel light and floaty.
Rainbow Dash was there. After the incident three years ago, Spike and Rainbow never really recovered as friends. She was, after all, the Element of Loyalty, and Spike had shattered everypony’s loyalty pretty bad with what he did. Still, he could never dislike Rainbow Dash, so it was nice to see her.
Applejack. Applejack didn’t usually have time for fraternizing off the farm, given how busy she was with tending everything. She gave Spike quite the talking-to back then, and they hadn’t spoken much since, though he felt she was less resentful than Rainbow.
Pinkie Pie was as peppy as always. She was bouncing around, recanting some kind of tale. Cheese Sandwich was there, too, and their storytelling worked in tandem. Spike smiled. Their kid would be quite the character, no doubt, if they ever had one.
Then there was Fluttershy. She had a habit of speaking with her wings moving about. She had become quite the public speaker since assuming her role as Equestria’s Head Animal Caretaker. Spike laid his head against his claw. Everypony had changed so much.
Then he couldn’t help but look at her again.
Rarity.
Spike sighed. He traced his eyes over her form. Her shape. The purple mane that shone like an amethyst. The white-as-snow coat. The glowing blue eyes. She was wearing a flowing, pale-yellow dress. That old familiar twang throbbed in his chest. He couldn’t believe a mare so stunning could exist.
Then there was the little baby.
Rarity’s, of course. A chubby little ball of pristine off-white and hooves.
Husbands and wives usually have children eventually, Spike reasoned. And it made sense with Rarity and Tango Waltz. They were inseparable, and Spike could see why.
Everypony was pretty surprised when Tango literally waltzed into Ponyville and opened his dance studio. Soon after, he and Rarity met, and the rest as they say is history. He was just the one. Fashionistas and dance instructors worked together quite well. Not like dragons and ponies. Part of Spike always found it hard to believe. But, if he dug deep down, it just made sense. Tango was a really nice stallion. He only had eyes for Rarity. He wasn’t flawed.
“Spike?”
Starlight Glimmer was blinking at Spike. He forced a smile and picked up his pen.
“R-right! Sorry, I was distracted by something!”
Starlight smiled back with understanding. She turned back to the blackboard.
Spike stared at the blank scroll on his desk. Completely free of any scuffs, marks, ink. A blank scroll. Spike could write anything he liked on it.
An idea struck him. Something he’d focus on later, after class. It was his last day, after all.
A story about a dragon… Spike thought, A dragon with a heart of gold. One that never hurts the ones he loves!
It was quite the tale waiting to happen, Spike was sure of it. He’d have to write the whole story someday.
He had to know how that story would end.
