Simple Dreams

Chapters

Bewitching Flowers
Canterlot And Bust
Storybook Exhibition
Realistic Expectations

Bewitching Flowers

Spike’s arm was starting to cramp. He’d been on his knees for over a minute now, holding up the flower he’d picked at random and offered to Rarity with a playful “for you” with just as little forethought. Rarity hadn’t moved since the words left his mouth, seemingly frozen in place with one foreleg raised in mid-step.

Birds sang in the trees nearby.

The Ponyville clocktower chimed the early morning hour in the distance.

The wind rustled the grass in the foothills surrounding them.

Still Rarity didn’t move, as if Spike’s simple gesture had turned her to stone.

Ever so slowly, his arm fell to his side and the flower drooped in his grip. Did he need to apologize? They were just out digging for gems like always, as carefree as any two friends could be. So what if he’d offered Rarity a flower; she liked flowers, she liked gifts, and in every previous instance she’d reacted to both with an adorable smile and a hug. On some occasions, no matter the size of the gift or bouquet, she even added a quick kiss on the cheek. Those were the best moments of all, when the whole world faded away and just left the two of them for a perfect split second.

Except this clearly wasn’t one of those moments.

Spike rose to his feet, and all of a sudden the spell on Rarity broke. She coughed a few times and fanned herself. “I-I’m so sorry, Spiky, my mind wandered off for a moment there.”

She smiled a little too brightly at him and continued her walk around the gem cart. “I think we’ve done more than enough for today. I should be preparing for my day trip to Canterlot, and I’m sure you have a full day of tasks ahead of you back at Twilight’s castle.”

He joined her in front of the cart, the flower still clutched in his hand, this time behind his back. “I… guess I probably do. But about before—“

“And I so do appreciate your help and our friendship, Spikey. I wouldn’t change a thing about it! Not a thing!”

Spike rocked back on his heels as if she’d struck him, and in a way she had. It wasn’t like she owed him anything. It wasn’t like he expected a certain number of gem hunting trips, hours of assistance, and small gifts to add up to a marriage proposal or something. Maybe a younger him did, but not anymore. He liked to think that he knew Rarity almost as well as Twilight, and part of that knowing was a familiarity with her choice in romance novels.

Every single one of them involved a dashing stallion or entrancing mare moving heaven and earth for their beloved: world-threatening evils were defeated, the helpless were saved, and every wrong righted in the most dramatic way possible. They weren’t that different from his comic books, in a way. The one thing none of them, her novels or his comics, ever had was everlasting love blossoming from something as simple as a yellow flower offered up on a whim. Winning the hoof of a fair damsel always required defeating the monster.

The cart wheels rumbled along the road as they made their way down the hill, back towards Ponyville. Their home town looked the same as it always did at a distance: picturesque, tranquil, and completely monster free. Sure, monsters did show up from time to time, but never the kind that a little dragon like Spike could defeat. Real monsters took a team effort, a team like Rarity and his other pony friends. They fought the monsters, they saved the world, and when the dust settled they were the ones everybody cheered for.

Sometimes he helped too, usually with the cleanup afterwards. He could scrub, sweep, and organize with the best of them, but that didn’t make him the dashing hero Rarity expected or deserved. Fighting monsters was for heroes like her, and so was the fame, the glory, and the grand romantic gestures that heroes deserved.

And maybe, he sometimes told himself, all of that was okay. He couldn’t be luckier, having so many amazing friends, Rarity included. So what if part of him pined for more? That was probably just dragon greed talking. He was good at the simple things, and the simple things like offering Rarity a pretty flower were always appreciated and always safe. Or so he’d thought.

With some surprise he realized he still had the flower clutched in his hand. Slowly he loosened one finger and then another, but the others wouldn’t budge. The flower hung there, a tiny little victim of his latest screwup. Why did he have to do whatever it was he’d done? Would it dawn on him later? Would she just turn around and tell him?

Rarity’s boutique was in sight now, barely a minute away at their current pace. Any second they’d part ways, but not silently if he could help it.

Spike cleared his throat. “I’ll… see you when you get back from your trip, Rarity. I hope you have a great time!”

Seconds passed before she glanced his way and responded, her expression sullen. “Oh? Oh, yes. I suppose you might. I do have a great deal of orders to get through though, and with the way business is picking up in Canterlot Carousel I’m afraid I might not have as much time to spare in the future. Take care, Spike.”

He watched her go, more focused on her words than the sway of her tail. No matter the reason, a door had swung shut: forget romance, what had he done to their friendship?

Spike pushed the castle’s heavy door closed behind him. The grand entryway, which tended to double as the prep area for Twilight and the gang’s next adventure, stood empty and quiet. Not even an open reference book was there to greet him.

“Twilight?”

She’d been in the library this morning when he left. Did she get caught in another book avalanche?

“Starlight?”

After checking the kitchen and the cozy chairs by the fireplace, he gulped and added “Trixie?”

The answering silence checked off all of the castle’s usual occupants, welcome and otherwise.

His claws clicked loudly on the polished floor as he made his way to his room, only to realize he still had the flower on him. He held it up and glared at the vibrant and sweet-smelling plant that ruined his morning and possibly one of his most treasured friendships. “I ought to just roast you.”

Smoke curled around his nostrils, but that was all. His gaze drifted to the collection of pictures atop his dresser, including an amazing portrait of Rarity wearing the fire-ruby necklace, his first and grandest gift to her, and tossed the flower next to it instead. What chance did he have of defeating a monster anyway if one dumb little flower could hold back his fire breath like a bucket of water?

He fell onto his bed, face up, and locked eyes with his reflection in the crystal ceiling. “Did I really… Are we still friends even?”

His reflection only offered up watery eyes.

Spike sat up, his fists clenched. “I’ve got to find out what’s wrong! I can’t just let our friendship just… just end!”

The flower on the dresser sat there next to Rarity’s picture: beauty and the botanical beast. Maybe it was cursed, or she hated its shade of yellow, or he’d committed some horrible crime against fashion by getting grass stains on his knees.

Or maybe she’d just had enough of him.

Her smile in the picture looked real, but was it really? When was the last time she smiled at him and meant it? Was today’s gem hunting trip just out of pity or something? What about the one last week, and the one before that?

“What am I supposed to do now, anyway, march up to her door and—”

A million possibilities swirled through his head, from moonlit serenades, to reading a long apology note, to delivering six pints of her favorite ice cream. The thought that he no longer knew how she’d react to any of those things sent a shiver from to his shoulders through his tail. All those crazy ideas shared one fatal flaw: him on her doorstep. What if she really was tired of being around him, and told him so?

A deafening boom shook the floor under his feet. Twilight must be home, and now he had a room or corridor to un-explode. She really needed to work on her teleportation.

Spike flopped onto the bed again as a set of hooves galloped their way down the hallway beyond his open door.

“Spike! Spike, are you in here?”

He didn’t bother looking up as Twilight skidded into the room, breathless and elated, judging from the pitch of her voice. Unless he was as bad at reading her as he was Rarity. Maybe he should just stay in bed forever. “Hey, Twilight. I’ll clean up soon, okay?”

A shadow fell over him and Twilight’s enormous smile filled his field of view. “Who said anything about cleaning? Spike, I just made the most amazing discovery!”

“That’s great, but can you tell me later? I kind of need to think about something.”

Her smile faded and her ears drooped. “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

And of course now things were going to get even worse, by way of putting his total loss of a dear friend into words, and in Twilight’s case including a second-by-second analysis of exactly when his heart cracked open and by how many millimeters. “You know what: tell me what you discovered. My stuff can wait.”

The mattress sank as Twilight sat next to him. “Are you sure? If you need me to leave, or to take over cooking and cleaning for a while… I could make your favorite sapphire pancakes for dinner.”

Spike stomach lurched at the idea of Twilight cooking with gems again. Having one broken internal organ was plenty. “I’m sure. Just tell me what you found to take my mind off everything. Please?”

Twilight took a deep breath. Spike could almost hear her heartbeat ramping back up as her excitement returned. “I wrote a spell that lets you see alternate probabilities.”

“I… don’t even understand that sentence.”

“Imagine you’re playing a game of Ogres and Oubliettes and you roll a three.”

Or totally blow it with the most beautiful pony ever with a dumb flower. Spike thought to himself.

“What if you could go back and see what would’ve happened if you rolled a ten?”

His eyebrows rose. Or what if you stomp that flower into the dirt instead? “So you can go back and change something?”

“No, it’s not going back and it’s not changing something. You get to see what would’ve happened if one thing was different and then snap back to reality. Well, more like crash back into reality. I… sort of made a mess of the library on reentry. When you’re feeling better I could really use a hoof re-shelving everything and scrubbing off some scorch marks.”

So much for stomping the flower, but what if he was the thing that changed? Would asking Rarity a simple “is something wrong” make any difference? He could throw out an “am I bothering you” or even a “you’re so beautiful” without a worry of making things any worse than they already were; it would all just be pretend. Except he had to use this to make things better for real, and that meant finding out what he did wrong. That probably meant heavy questions like “are we friends,” the kind that were too big and scary to dare speak for fear of what the answer could be. Unless he could get the answer with magic without ever asking the question, not really asking it to the real Rarity.

“How does it work? Could I try it?”

Twilight leapt to her hooves. “I was hoping you’d say that! I’ve got a whole list of critically important historical events that aren’t as fully researched as they could be! Here, how about this one.”

A battered-looking book materialized next to her and landed on the bed.

“It’s a history of the founding of Equestria, signed by the two authors.”

“Aww, you want me to go back to when everypony was fighting in the freezing cold, and—”

“Oh, if only! The spell has to be cast on an object that was present at the event, something connected to it.”

She flipped the book’s cover open and pointed to the author’s signatures. “Inkwell and Quick Quill never worked together again after finishing this book. Apparently they never even spoke to each other after signing their names in this very spot!”

Reading the faded yet hurried-looking signatures took some effort. “So you want me to see what made them fight?”

“Or what would’ve happened if they never did. There’s some uncertainty in what exactly the spell shows you, but just imagine what you could learn! Think of the research papers, and the new textbook editions, and the addendums…”

Pure instinct and self-preservation got Spike on his feet, the history book tucked under one arm and the other patting her firmly on the back. “That’s amazing, Twilight! Except don’t you want to go and see Inkwell and what’s-their-name for yourself?”

Twilight bowed her head. “I would but… The spell can only be cast twice every hundred moons, and not on the same pony. With some more research I might be able to remove those restrictions, but for now—”

Spike was already at the door with the flower in hand. “Once is all I need! Let’s go cast a spell.”

“Hold it, you’re forgetting this!” The history book, which Spike had left on the floor, was now floating in Twilight’s magic aura.

“Yeah, about that… I’ve kind of got my own uh… historical event I’d like to go see.”

“We can’t take this lightly, Spike! Each of us only gets to do this once, and that means picking the most important moments in history. This is an incredibly rare, once-in-a-lifetime—”

“It’s about Rarity.”

Silence hung in the air while torrents of words raced through Spike’s mind. How did he explain something he didn’t fully understand?

Finally Twilight took a deep breath. “What hap—”

“I-I don’t know. I just know we were out hunting gems like we usually do on Saturday mornings when…” Spike wiped a line of tears off his snout.

Twilight rushed over and pulled him into a hug. “Do you think you said something that upset her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did she tell you what’s wrong?”

“No.”

“Did you—”

“I don’t know, okay? All of a sudden she just decided we need to head back early and basically tells me we won’t see as much of each other anymore.”

He pulled away and paced through the room. “And I know you’re going to say this is just a friendship problem and I should go talk to her, or give her space, or something, but what if… what if it’s really bad? What if she’s done being my friend? If she was just a little upset she would’ve gotten all dramatic, and if she was super upset she would’ve been crying, but… I’ve never seen her like this.”

“You know Rarity—”

“I thought I did.”

“You do, and you know she’s not going to throw away a friendship on a whim. Besides, how is my spell supposed to help? It won’t change reality.”

Spike stared down at the flower clasped in his hands. “I need to know what happened. Maybe if I know then I can apologize, or… I dunno… see it the way Rarity saw it. Maybe I really am a bad friend.”

Twilight stomped her hoof. “You’re not a bad friend, especially not to Rarity! If she even thinks that… But she doesn’t, trust me. She doesn’t, and right now she’s probably just as upset as you are, even if we don’t know why.”

He held up the flower. “Then let me prove it.”

“Only if you promise to do this the right way afterwards: no matter what you see, your next stop is Rarity’s boutique.”

“She’s visiting Canterlot today, but I swear I’ll sleep on a bench at the train station if it’ll help. I’ll do anything to make this right.”

After heaving a great sigh, Twilight nodded. “Other historians say Quick Quill wasn’t the easiest of ponies to get along with anyway.”

Tears came again as Spike hugged her. “Thanks, Twilight.”

Canterlot And Bust

The castle disintegrated from view. Tendrils of purple light raced around Spike faster and faster until nothing else remained besides a blinding glow, a sense of falling, and Twilight’s repeated warnings: “all you’re going to experience is an alternate possibility, something that might’ve happened but didn’t. Don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s real. No matter what happens you’ll wind up back in reality when it’s over.”

Except what followed felt real. Suddenly he was back in the foothills outside Ponyville, on his knees with the accursed flower held aloft, the early morning sun glinting off the nearly-full gem cart, crushed grass staining his knees, and Rarity’s perfume wafting past his nose on the breeze.

Rarity stood there, barely three feet from him, smiling her frozen smile just like before. Any second now he would put down the flower, slowly get to his feet, and listen to their friendship unravel all over again. He swept over the scene with his eyes, on the hunt for even the smallest detail that he’d missed before. And then, just as his arms started to cramp again, instinct took over.

Leaping to his feet, he tossed the flower over his shoulder and forced a laugh. “Ha, just… kidding! Where should we dig next?”

Rarity blinked. “Ah, well… I suppose we could find a few more gem deposits, but…”

Her slight frown nearly stopped his heart. “We don’t have to! If something’s bothering you, you’d tell me, right? I-I got worried for a second that… that you—”

She took a step forward and touched her hoof to his nose. “Nothing is wrong, darling. Nothing at all. Did I tell you that I’m visiting Canterlot soon?”

He nodded vigorously and tried in vain to keep a straight face. Was this working? This was different, maybe even good different, but how was it going to help back in reality? “You… uh… you mentioned it.”

“I’m due to leave by train this afternoon, and strictly speaking my only business there is to check in with Sassy at Canterlot Carousel, but…”

Again she paused, and again his heart did gymnastics. “You can tell me, I swear.”

After a gasping breath from Rarity and no breathing at all from Spike, the words came at last: “Would you like to accompany me?”

“I… I… What?” Words didn’t make sense anymore. This wasn’t one of Twilight’s ‘alternate probabilities,’ this was a beautiful dream.

Rarity continued: “would you like to come with me to Canterlot for the afternoon? I realize a business trip isn’t exactly the most glamorous of excursions, but perhaps when the work is done we could stroll through the fashion district and have an early dinner?”

All of the sudden Spike was back on his knees and in danger of falling face-first onto the grass. “Really? Just the two of us?”

Her warm smile and a slow nod said it all: just the two of us.

Fireworks seemed to explode all around him, as if the air itself was celebrating this moment of a friendship not just saved but taking a romantic turn. Except they weren’t fireworks: Spike gasped as he recognized the magic lights, Twilight’s spell pulling him back, and leaped out of the way in the vague hope that it would make a difference. The lights faded, leaving him right where we wanted to be, and he breathed the world’s biggest sigh of relief. The real world could wait. It could wait forever.

“Spike? Aren’t you going to answer me?”

He turned back to Rarity, her wide-eyed surprise the surest sign that she hadn’t seen the light show, only his reaction to it. “Uh, yes, I-I’d love to. I’m just… so excited to get cleaned up before our big day together.”

She giggled and, to Spike’s continued amazement, blushed. “Shall we meet at the train station in an hour?”

Spike couldn’t nod fast enough, or get over her continued smiling as he replied “it’s a date!”

Watching the scenery roll by the train window was somehow blissful and nerve-wracking all at once. Spike pressed his hands into his jacket pockets, entranced by the hemline anecdote Rarity was telling him. She’d told him this one months ago, but she clearly didn’t remember and he didn’t care. He could still nod and smile at all the right moments while he willed himself to not screw this up. Real or not, he was on a date with Rarity, the fashionista extraordinaire and mare of his dreams, and all because in this crazy version of reality she liked him too.

“—and that’s why authenticity from the very beginning is so crucial to the final result.”

He nodded dreamily. “Absolutely.”

“Tell me, Spikey, have you considered—”

A bright flash of light suddenly had him on his feet and halfway across the train car, standing in the midst of a group of school-aged foals on a field trip. Not now. He couldn’t leave now!

“Spikey, what’s the matter?”

The light continued to dance on the ceiling, and a panic-stricken second later he realized it was just a reflection from the many jewels sewn into Rarity’s gorgeous dress. Blushing furiously, he paced back across the train car, now under surveillance by every pony in it, and sat back in his seat, his eyes on his own feet. “S-sorry, sorry! I-I’m just… I’m so nervous. We’ve never done anything like this, just the two of us.”

Rarity shifted in her seat until her shadow obscured his view. “Surely you’re not forgetting our gem hunting expedition this morning? I don’t remember seeing anypony else there.”

With the utmost caution he met her gaze. “I know we go gem hunting all the time, but we’ve been doing that forever just as friends, but now—”

Her perfectly manicured hoof touched his shoulder, the softest of gestures that sent a bolt of lightning up his spine regardless. “Spike, this outing doesn’t have to be more or less than either of us wants it to be. If you’d rather go home immediately after I attend to my business needs, please just tell me.”

Gasping, he gripped her hoof in his hands, its fur soft and its edges polished, and stared into her eyes. “I want to be here more than anything! I want to come with you, and to keep talking, and to have dinner together. Today is already the most amazing day ever and I don’t want it to ever stop! I’m so sorry I’m nervous.”

Whole seconds full of mutual blushing passed before Rarity took her hoof back. “Then we’re in full agreement. I only wish we’d done this sooner.”

“You and me both.”

With a lurch and a whistle, the train shuddered to a stop just as Canterlot Castle appeared in the window next to them.

“Our stop at Canterlot Carousel should be brief,” Rarity said, “just a quick visit with Sassy Saddles to go over the plans for the next few months, and then, my dear Spike, the rest of the day is ours.”

Spike’s nerves seemed to melt under her warm gaze. “I can’t wait.”

One look made it clear that Sassy Saddles and Canterlot Carousel had other plans. Rarity let out a small scream as they walked through the door, and Spike nearly did the same as he tripped over one of the many disembodied mannequin limbs littering the ground. Stacks of boxes lined the walls in place of clothing racks, the window display stood empty, and a barely-legible “Closed” sign decorated the front door.

Spike picked up one of the mannequin legs, keeping it at arm’s length in case whatever disaster struck the place was contagious. “What the heck happened here?”

Rarity’s magic aura struck a dozen targets at once, arranging and cleaning everything in sight. “Good heavens! Sassy! Sassy Saddles, I demand an explanation!”

A loud sneeze disturbed a stack of boxes by the stock room door, and moments later Sassy trudged around it, mane unkempt, hooves dragging, nose red, and in magic possession of a sopping wet handkerchief. “I’m here, Rarity, such as I am.”

A second sneeze sent the same box stack crumbling to the ground. Unsewn buttons and spools of thread burst out of one and raced across the floor to Spike’s feet. “Are you okay?”

Sassy gave a woozy nod. “Tip top. Never better. Battling a small head cold, but doing my best to prepare for the Canterlot Bridal Exposition. I might have overestimated how quickly my health would improve.”

Rarity rushed forward and wrung the handkerchief out with her magic. “Battle is a very apt choice of words; the shop looks like a war zone! Please go home and get some rest. We can meet in a few days to discuss bringing the shop back into operation, but until then—”

Sassy raised one shivering hoof, her eyes wide. “But the bridal exposition!”

“That isn’t for another week; we have plenty of time to replan our booth and bring in some extra help if needed.”

“It’s today, Rarity! Today! There was a misprint on our invite to attend, and I only found the corrected invitation this morning when I came in to retrieve my spare handker—”

Another sneeze rocketed her backward into the counter.

Spike stared, open-mouthed at Sassy teetering on her hooves and Rarity practically vibrating with panic on hers. “Do I even need to ask how important this bridal thing is?”

Rarity turned to him after a few seconds of hyperventilating. “It’s only the most important fashion event for months! If Canterlot Carousel misses it, we might as well keep the shop doors closed until Hearth’s Warming!”

Of course it was. The fashion world never did anything small or unimportant. Sighing, Spike took off his jacket and hung it on a nearby hat rack. At least now he’d be back in his natural element: helping a superhero stop doomsday. “Okay, so what do we have to do?”

“Time… There’s not enough time!” Rarity murmured. “Not enough time for our friends to get here, so that just leaves the three of us, minus Sassy, just two of us… on today of all days!”

Spike stepped forward, all too aware that a panicked unicorn bore many similarities to a lit firecracker. “I can help. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Rarity paced in a circle, wide-eyed enough to see through walls. “Boxes! If there’s a white or pastel-colored dress inside, it’s coming with us, and so is any mannequin with four hooves still attached! Gather as many of them as you can while I hail a whole fleet of taxis!”

Sassy sneezed in agreement.

Storybook Exhibition

This wasn’t Spike’s first brush with doomsday, but it was shaping up to be the most back-breaking to date. Sweat poured down his brow as he tried to keep pace with Rarity’s quick trot with half of the shop’s merchandise balanced on his back. A long line of ponies followed behind him with the other half, an impromptu workforce Rarity somehow mustered somewhere between his throwing everything he could into taxi after taxi after taxi and then surviving a careening ride through Canterlot’s busy streets. Rainbow Dash would’ve been so proud.

A massive building loomed just ahead of them, its drab paint job and giant “Canterlot Expo Hall” signage practically invisible behind the cheery “Canterlot Wedding Exhibition - Today Only!” banners and collections of pink and white balloons. Spike didn’t know it was possible to have that many party supplies in one place without summoning Pinkie Pie.

The only thing bigger than the building was the line to get in: a rainbow-colored wall of bodies obscured the entire front entrance, and the excited chatter seemed to shake the air just as much as the rumble of the hooves shook the ground. “How’re we supposed to get in?”

“There’s a side entrance for exhibitors, just over here. This is far from my first show in the Canterlot Expo Hall, with its miserable acoustics, barely serviceable powder rooms, and… but why am I complaining about the venue? I should be apologizing to you, Spikey, apologizing for our first real day together being co-opted by all of this madness, and thanking you for all you’ve already done to get me through it! Whenever we’re free again, which I’m sorry to say is likely to be many hours from now, we’ll pick up right where we left off. We’ll get a late dinner, or an extremely late hot chocolate and donut if it comes down to it.”

As they rounded the building’s corner the promised side entrance came into view, flanked by burly guards, velvet rope, and a bright red “Exhibitors Only” sign. One look from Rarity was all it took to have the rope pulled aside and the doors propped open, and one look was all it took to realize just how much madness they were in for. Despite its size, the building seemed to be one big shell: four walls and a roof surrounding a massive indoor space as big as Canterlot Castle’s grand ballroom, and every inch of it seemed to be decked out in formal attire. Wedding dresses, wedding tuxedos, wedding centerpieces, wedding invitations, wedding cakes, and everything else that could possibly be expected at a formal party looked to be on display.

Booths from vendors all across Equestria, from Appleloosa Formal Carriages to Manehattan Authentic Catering to Saddle Arabian Destination Getaways lay stretched out before them in neat rows like aisles at the world’s biggest and most expensive supermarket. Only one empty spot seemed left, a dark corner booth near the door with a bright white sign and elegant purple lettering: “Canterlot Carousel by Rarity.”

Sighing, Spike dropped his load of merchandise next to the empty booth. “I guess there’s no backing out, now that everypony knows you’re supposed to be here.”

Rarity zipped from one corner of the booth to the next, directing her helpers on where to leave their load one moment and then writing furiously on a notepad the next. “Set that here, thank you. We don’t have much in the way of decorations, which just means the product itself will be the sole focus. It’s risky, but we don’t have a lot of options at this point. That one can go over here, thank you again!”

Spike looked over the competition, each neighboring booth more elaborate than the last, and tried to put on a brave face. “We can do this. We just have to… set out all your bride and bridesmaid dresses, impress a bunch of ponies—”

“Not just any ponies, Spikey, brides! Brides in need of formal apparel for their entire wedding party! We must do everything we can to make them feel at home, and to find the dress or dresses of their dreams.”

He nodded. “Got it. Just let me know what to—aah!”

The magic lights were back, this time circling around his middle like sharks. A jump and a sidestep barely saved him, but not before a whiff of dusty library air hit him. That was a close one, too close considering what was at stake. Real or not, he couldn’t leave Rarity to deal with this show all by herself. He’d just have to spend the rest of the day on the run, dodging the return to reality however long it took to get through this. Having a donut or two with her beside him wouldn’t hurt either.

Rarity peeked over the wall of boxes now lining the booth. “What was that? If you’re free I could desperately use your help back here, Spikey! We barely have an hour before the guests come in.”

Spike squared his shoulders and marched forward. “Let’s do this.”

The hour of frantic preparation flew by, and a myriad of dresses literally did the same. Legions of boxes turned into lines of mannequins ready to walk down the aisle, racks of colorful bridesmaid ensembles, and every conceivable style of veil and train to accessorize with. Other booths might’ve had fancier signs or decorations, but to Spike that’s all they ended up looking like: a fancy design. Rarity’s looked like exactly as it was supposed to: a high-fashion dress shop in miniature. He could only hope the guest ponies saw it, and her, the way he did.

A magically amplified voice echoed through the hall, drowning out all the chatter. “Attention exhibitors, the doors will be opened in just a minute. Remember, our most important guests of all are being given white sashes reading ‘Bride To Be’ at the door. Please do all you can to help them plan the wedding of their dreams!”

Spike ran behind the booth’s counter, stood next to Rarity, and flashed her a smile. “We did it! Are you ready?”

Rarity draped a hoof across his shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze. “I believe I am, against all odds. Just remember, some mares become rather… difficult when planning their nuptials. Be respectful, be courteous, and don’t take it personally if you don’t get the same treatment in return.”

He saluted her. “Level four Twilight study session, got it.”

The announcer’s voice echoed across the hall again, and this time Spike spotted the raised platform at a far corner, like a lifeguard station next to a pool, where a pony was speaking into an enormous megaphone. “All right, everypony, it’s showtime. Unleash the brides.”

Spike set his hands on the counter and turned toward the entrance with his best smile in full effect, ready to point out the white-sashed ponies and make sure they got Rarity’s full attention. And then he saw them, the advancing wall of mares choking the hallway and the unbroken line of white sashes adorning each one, like the battle standard in a military assault. “They’re all brides? All of them?”

Rarity either didn’t share his shock or didn’t notice it. She was too busy waving a foreleg at the approaching army and launching her own opening volley. “Welcome to the Canterlot Carousel, darlings! All of our wedding attire is crafted with the greatest attention to—”

The customers, and the questions, came hard and fast.

“Is this one available with more ruffles?”

“Where’s the wing holes?”

“What would you recommend for a chartreuse-camomile theme?”

“I need five of these in teal with pink trim!”

Even if Spike knew how to answer, there wasn’t a single syllable-wide gap in the conversation to deliver one. That didn’t stop Rarity, of course: “Fill out a special order form, please. Pegasus-friendly options are on the upper left. Personally I think the one just to your right does wonders for your eyes, dear. Splendid, my lovely sales associate will take down your information so we can arrange all the fittings and particulars. Spike, if you please?”

A stack of order forms flew out of a box on the ground right into Spike’s chest. His catching them seemed to clue the ten mares with hooves pressed to the counter that he too was an animate sales-creature capable of answering questions and suddenly papers were flying everywhere, out of his hands to be filled out and then back in for filing. This he could handle, this he did for hours at a time when Twilight was onto something, although to be fair there was only ever one Twilight compared to the multitude of customers vying for his attention all at once.

He held up a half-completed form, scratching the eraser end of a pencil against his temple, and dared to speak. “Wait, who needed the six—”

“Five!” one of the mares shouted, holding up a bridesmaid’s dress. “In teal with pink trim!”

“Right. Teal… pink trim… just sign here and put down your contact—”

Magic snatched the paper away, and if he ever got it back he couldn’t tell. A half-dozen more half-spoken conversations turned into a half-dozen more order forms to file. Just as panic started to set in, if that was possible considering how little he could even think, relative silence returned. The mares were gone and their infamous Bride-To-Be sashes were no longer staring him in the face.

A bubble of empty space had mysteriously formed around the booth, and all Rarity did in response was fan herself and chuckle. “Well, I’d say we’re off to a great start!”

Spike glanced left and right at the customers currently swarming the neighboring booths with the same savage ferocity, and realized the awful truth. “They move in packs?”

Rarity nudged him with her back leg and whispered “here comes another” before launching into her sales pitch.

His claws sank into the stack of order forms propped in front of him, the smallest and flimsiest of shields. How did Rarity keep up? How did she keep it all straight? Making and selling beautiful dresses was one thing, but being a sales-pony extraordinaire was something he clearly hadn’t given her enough credit for, yet another superpower he lacked.

As if in answer to his unspoken questions, a piece of notebook paper slid across the countertop. Spike looked from it to Rarity just in time to catch her winking. On the paper were answers to thirty or more common questions in neat and organized print, followed by a curving script that read “refer the harder questions to me. You’re an inspiration and a lifesaver, Spikey. Whether or not this is the day we planned, I’m so grateful to be sharing it with you.”

His heart skipped a beat, and a moment later he nearly skipped over a customer’s question about sleeve length options, which she was only too willing to repeat at a shout.

The customers mostly came in waves, either a bride and her friends or just a group of brides that all insisted on getting served first before the best stuff sold out. Most of the questions they peppered him with were right off Rarity’s list: fittings by walk-in or appointment, one-of-a-kind designs, from nine to three Tuesday through Saturday, yes the Rarity that saved the world that one time, and that other time too. Tougher questions went to the fashionista herself, and in those moments Spike caught bits and pieces of her own conversations with customers, some rapid-fire but some strangely long-winded.

A pink mare in a sweeping magenta hat topped with peacock feathers currently had her full attention, helped in part by her hat’s extremely wide brim blocking off most of the counter space. The mare rolled a swatch of fabric between her hooves, looking like she expected a disgusting insect to crawl out of it. “I’ll accept nothing less than what you chose for your own wedding ensemble. Tell me, what did a fashionista such as yourself wear? Something stunning and truly timeless, I’m sure.”

Rarity’s blushing seemed to elevate the temperature of the whole room. “Oh, well… I-I don’t happen have gotten married myself yet, but—”

The mare in the hat gasped and threw down the fabric swatch. “You mean to say you… you dare try to sell me a wedding dress that you yourself wouldn’t wear?”

A gasp swept through the ponies within earshot, Rarity included. “Now see here, madam, that is not at all what I—”

The mare in the hat turned and walked away. “Perhaps some of the other dressmakers here will be more upfront with their… inadequacies.”

Rarity let out a growl worthy of a timber wolf. “I’ll have you know I’ve dressed royalty on multiple occasions! Royalty!”

“It’s true!” Spike offered in an equally offended voice. “Remember Princess Cadence’s wedding? Who do you think… ugh.”

He may as well have been shouting into the wind. The mare with the hat was gone, and within a minute any pony who’d overhead their heated exchange had melted back into the churning crowd.

Still glaring, he rapped his fist on the counter and looked at Rarity. “That’s so unfair! Whoever said the customer is always right definitely never worked in modern retail.”

Rarity offered him a small, pained smile. “Please excuse that little outburst. Not every waking minute of a fashionista’s life is glamorous, but we can’t let it ruin our whole day. Just think, an evening stroll, a candlelit dinner… and possibly a spa trip for hoof massage if circumstances allow. I forgot how insufferably hard these floors are.”

“I could always, uh…” he looked to her hooves on the stone floor, heard another bride’s call for exhibitor blood, and lost his nerve. Maybe someday, if only this were real.

“Hmm, what was that?” Rarity had turned back the crowd, in search of their next customer.

“Nothing.”

At least the crowd drowned out the awkward silence.

Barely a minute passed before another group of brides approached the booth and had Rarity turning on the salespony charm. “Welcome to the Canterlot—”

“Is it true you’re not even married?” One of them blurted, as if they’d heard Rarity only showered once a year.

Rarity shivered. “Excuse me? Regardless of what you may have heard, ladies, I assure you that I am one of the foremost fashionistas in Equestria, and have seen ponies married in my dresses more times than I care to—”

“So no?”

“Correct, although that couldn’t be more irrelevant, or improper to ask for that matter. Now if you’d like to see some of my latest—”

“Oh it’s totally relevant,” the mare replied, her expression stern. “I’m not buying from a pony that doesn’t get romance. My wedding dress has got to scream ‘love’ and ‘passion’ like it’s on fire.”

Spike braced for impact, but Rarity merely laughed one of her end-this-uncomfortable-moment-with-the-least-social-damage laughs; he’d heard those more than he’d care to think about, usually in Pinkie or Rainbow Dash’s company. “Oh dear, I see the misunderstanding now. I might not be married, but allow me to introduce—” Spike was pulled closer by her magic until her foreleg could take over “—the absolute love of my life, who was kind enough to help here today when my regular salespony fell ill.”

The group of mares shared a knowing “ooh!” and smiled, this time with some genuine care, Spike thought. He did his best to smile just as convincingly. “Y-yep, that’s me!”

“Wow,” the same mare said, “your fiancé is so different from what I expected. Congratulations!”

Through her foreleg Spike could feel Rarity’s jackhammer of a heartbeat. He smiled all the same and waved his one free hand. “Thanks! I-I’ve never been happier!”

And under halfway normal circumstances that would’ve been true. Being shanghai-engaged wasn’t the worst dream he’d ever had, and maybe it’d head off the rumor about Rarity being unfit to design wedding dresses.

Possibly because he’d clearly bought into the game, Rarity continued. “Having a… partner like Spike truly makes every dress a team effort, a labor of love. No matter how simple or extravagant each of your weddings is intended to be, rest assured that every dress from Canterlot Carousel is positively overflowing with romantic feeling, a page from a romance novel brought to life.”

The mares all swooned.

Rarity’s vice-grip on him eased.

Spike sighed with relief.

He retrieved the stack of order forms and held them up. “And if the dresses on display here aren’t enough, just fill out a form and Rarity will be in touch with each of you for design specifications and filling.”

“Fitting, dear, fitting,” Rarity whispered.

“Right, fitting!”

All of the mares took a form, filled it out, and set it back on the counter. Spike counted down as they did: five forms until the crisis is over, then four, then three, then two, but the last never arrived. The final mare, her friends now accosting the next exhibitor, tapped the form to her nose while she looked the booth up and down. “I dunno. If I were you I’d get that sign updated. Canterlot Carousel by Rarity? Just Rarity? Way to sell your future hubby short.”

Rarity spoke through clenched teeth. “What an accurate observation of an unfortunate oversight. Good day.”

The mare deposited her order form and waved happily as she hurried off.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Rarity continued in a tone that could’ve peeled the paint off the walls. “Congratulations, Spike, you’ve just received a battlefield promotion to fiancé and co-owner! You may now kiss the bride!”

Spike took small, noiseless steps until he’d backed himself to the far corner of the booth. “Want me to file these order forms or—” he coughed out a few sparks “—‘misplace’ them?”

Rarity tilted her head back and held a foreleg over her eyes. “Why don’t you decide, future hubby? Clearly a fashionista’s personal life now matters more than the dresses she creates! What have I started? It won’t stop now, whatever it is. Next will come more probing questions, and gossip columns in the paper, and Celestia help us both when Twilight hears of this! By the time Sassy comes back to the shop she’ll think she’s still having a fever dream.”

He opened his mouth to say something comforting, but came up short. Even asking what he could do to make this better seemed pointless. As usual he was powerless in the face of true disaster. The best he could manage was standing still long enough for this all to go away in a flash of light, but what about her? What if this was real and all he could do was wait for somepony else to figure a way out of the latest death trap threatening to destroy him and his friends? Isn’t that what he always did? Why was he always just the support?

The announcer’s voice boomed over the din of a thousand conversations. “We’ve reached the halfway point, everypony! Just two and a half more hours to secure your own personal storybook wedding, the happiest day of your life!”

Rarity burst into tears and buried her head in a collection of silk scarves on the countertop.

Spike rushed forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, but skipped the halfhearted assurances that everything would be fine. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to go fix this. Just follow my lead.”

She waved him away, her voice muffled by the scarves. “Just go! Leave me and escape with your life while you still can! Even a mud pit on Applejack’s farm would be an improvement. I’m sorry I ever dragged you to this awful place, Spike.”

After a moment’s hesitation he gave her shoulder a small squeeze and whispered “I’m not” in her ear. He ran into the crowd before she could respond, and before he could lose his willingness to take matters into his own hands.

Weaving through the crowd took some effort. Everywhere he turned another wave of Bride-To-Be sashes threatened to block his way, and more than once a glint of bright light made him cut ponies off or dive under a booth. “Oh no, I’m not done yet. Maybe we can’t have a romantic dinner, but we’re getting out of here, both of us.”

A set of metal steps led up to the announcer’s raised platform, guarded by a velvet rope. Spike waved to the stallion sitting by the megaphone, leaning back in a chair with a book in his magic grip. “Hey, excuse me!”

When the stallion didn’t react, Spike ducked under the rope, certain that Twilight just felt a chill run down her back, and climbed the steps. The stallion shifted in his chair. “Something wrong?”

“There’s going to be if I don’t make an announcement.”

“Huh?”

Spike approached the megaphone and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, everypony, I need to tell you all something.”

Within ten seconds the whole hall went dead silent, and all of the sudden he was staring into the face of the monster, into each of its thousands of hungry eyes and sneering mouths, all of them ready to glare and shout him into oblivion. In a dream or not, he’d met his match, he’d found the moment where an actual hero was supposed to take over while he stood off to the side.

The chair creaked as the stallion got up, no doubt to push him down the monster’s throat. “Now hold on there, you can’t just—”

Spike bared his teeth and puffed smoke out his nostrils. There weren’t any heroes here, and that just left him. Even if Rarity deserved better, in this moment he would have to do. “Yes, I can. It’s an emergency.”

He returned his attention to the crowd and caught sight of a still-crying Rarity as he did. In that moment he realized how wrong he’d gotten it: the legion of brides wasn’t the monster at all. The monster was his own cowardice, his always playing it safe no matter what it meant not doing, what it meant not saying.

“I just wanted you all to hear how much Rarity means to me. You can all see how beautiful she is, but she’s also kind, generous, and makes me feel like the luckiest dragon in the world every time she smiles.”

The lights had found him again, twinkling all around like tiny stars. Diving out of the way now meant leaving too much unsaid, leaving Rarity to the wolves.

“There’s no pony I’d rather be here or anywhere with. There’s no pony I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. She might not be perfect, but she’s perfect for me!”

He’d stolen that last line from an open page of one of Rarity’s romance novels, but the assembled crowd either didn’t know or didn’t care. A collective, sugary “awww!” was followed by cheers, applause, and, as Spike hoped, a rapid shift in hoof traffic. Suddenly ponies were running toward the booth of the fashionista who definitely knew romance and definitely qualified to design wedding apparel. All it took was playing into the theme, offering the brides-to-be the storybook romance that they were here to capture and hold onto at any price.

Even at a distance Spike could feel Rarity’s smile, and the kiss she blew to him felt so real and passionate that he rocked back on his heels. The lights were racing around him now, a magical celebration of his victory over a lesser part of himself. In a dream or in reality, he’d always have this triumph to hang onto.

Realistic Expectations

The castle’s floor was just as cold and hard as Spike remembered. He lay sprawled there while the lingering sense of weightlessness passed and his dreamy elation turned back into plain old dread. For a second there he’d been the victorious hero, the day freshly saved and the fair damsel rescued. For a second Rarity not only cared about their friendship but shared his lingering hope for more than that, for romantic walks through busy city streets, candlelit dinners for two, and declaring their love from the rooftops. For a second things were perfect. Then he’d woken up.

Singed papers and black ash fluttered down from above, the after-effects of his violent return. All his dreams really had gone up in flames, along with a bunch of the library’s periodicals.

Twilight glided over to him with a sheet of parchment and quill in her magic grasp. “Wow, that’s twice as long as I was gone! So, what did you see? What was different? Was there any evidence of—”

Spike pushed himself up to a sitting position and shook his head. “It didn’t work.”

“What? If the spell did nothing then where’ve you been all day? The sun set an hour ago!”

He shrugged. “It’s like I was having an amazing dream that I wanted to stay in forever. There’s no way that was an ‘alternate probability’ or whatever. There’s no chance any of that stuff could’ve happened. Not to me.”

Twilight’s wingbeats slowed. Without a word she set down beside him, her notes and quill forgotten, and pulled him into a hug.

Spike held onto her, but didn’t cry. The hurt from this morning wasn’t as fresh anymore, even though the pain of what he’d just lived and lost would probably hit him hard any second. For now he just felt tired and empty, like he really had spent the day hauling boxes and hawking dresses. “It’s all over.”

“It’s not,” she whispered. “I don’t know what you saw in there, but you need to go talk to Rarity like you promised you would. I’m not letting one of our friendships go without a fight, and neither should you.”

“Do I have to tonight? She might not even be home yet, and if she is she’s probably busy unpacking.”

“Would you rather re-shelve the whole library tonight? One of these tasks can probably wait for tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Spike got to his feet. “Fine, I’m going. Don’t wait up; if she’s not home I’ll just sleep on her doorstep or something.”

Twilight patted him on the back with her wing. “Good. Go out there and fight for your friendship. I’ve got your back if you need support.”

That got a grin out of him, and then a full-on smile as he imagined the legion of brides swarming her, demanding she officiate their weddings.

“Thanks, Twilight.”

She followed alongside him and pushed open the front door. “You’ve got this, Spike.”

The walk from castle to boutique had never felt so short and yet so long. The two were close enough together to practically make Rarity his next door neighbor, but each footstep felt like a marathon. He’d won an amazing battle today. If only somebody besides him had seen it. If only it had been real.

Instead he trudged his way down the dark, empty street, towards Rarity’s lightless shop. In another twenty feet he could knock on the door and confirm the obvious: she wasn’t home. If she was there would be a light on in an upstairs window as she finished getting ready for bed and perhaps did a little more reading about the dashing, daring kinds of heroes that he could only be in his dreams.

Still, Twilight was right. He needed to fight, if only for their friendship. He’d lived all these years as just her friend, and he could keep doing that. Friendship was wonderful. Just this morning he’d reminded himself that friendship was enough. Getting a taste of what more than friendship could be like, in a dream or otherwise, was a fun distraction and nothing more.

“Okay,” he said to himself, “knock, call her name a couple times… write her an apology note? Definitely don’t get her flowers. I wish I’d brought some paper with me.”

“Spike?”

The voice gave the silhouette’s identity away.

Spike’s legs turned to lead. He stood there, trying to smile and wave through the darkness. “Hi, Rarity. Did you, uh… just get back?”

The shadow slowly walked closer and soon Spike realized she had her extra-large saddlebags on, the kind that could carry a week’s worth of provisions for a normal pony, or two fasionable event’s worth in Rarity’s case. “The train was late, I’m sorry to say. Why are you out here in the dark?”

He took a deep breath. Here came the fight. “I was actually on my way to knock on your door, but… do you want some help with your bags?”

A second of silence passed, a second full of exploding panic that he was in for a repeat of this morning. Instead Rarity’s horn sputtered to life, undid the straps, and deposited the enormous saddlebags on the ground. By the light of her magic he could see the half-circles under her eyes and the limp state of her mane. “Every conceivable thing has gone wrong today, starting with my bothering to get out of bed.”

She trotted on toward her door, much faster now that she didn’t have any bags to carry. Spike did his best to keep up, his feet and back aching from his day of imaginary labor. By the time he reached the doorstep, the interior lights were on and water was gushing into the kettle in the kitchen.

“Where do you want your bags?”

“Anywhere, darling. Set them on fire for all I care, but after that would you be so kind as to heat up this water?”

The saddlebags made an impressive thump as they hit the floor. Seconds later Spike was in the kitchen, breathing a low flame under the kettle on the stove while Rarity rummaged through a nearby cupboard.

“Camomile tea?”

He nodded just as the kettle started to whistle. “Thanks.”

Rarity took over from there, setting out an extraordinarily basic tea service by her standards. Instead of a silver serving tray with china cups and a plate of miniature sandwiches, two mugs sat on the kitchen table alongside a bag of sugar, a bottle of milk, and two spoons. She slumped into a chair, rested her chin on her forelegs, and stirred her steeping tea with magic. “What compelled you to visit me so late, darling? I certainly hope you weren’t waiting around just to offer to carry my things.”

Spike shook his head as he pulled out a second chair and joined her at the table. “After this morning I… Twilight created a fancy new spell, I helped her try it out, the usual.”

“Yes, this morning.”

He held back a cringe, but she didn’t smile, frown, or seem to show any emotion at all. “That’s kind of why I’m here. I—”

“Please don’t apologize. The fault is all mine. If you’re guilty of anything it’s putting up with too much of my abuse.”

Spike’s aching back agreed with her. Still he tried to look sympathetic while he stirred his tea. “What about your day?”

She threw a foreleg over her eyes. “Ugh, where to begin! Thanks to a scheduling mix-up I found myself running a booth at a bridal exposition, and after that ordeal I can confidently say that I’ll happily get married under the Ponyville bridge wearing a paper bag. So long as it’s a tastefully decorated paper bag, mind you.”

He pulled his mug closer, dropped in the usual ten spoonfuls of sugar, and gave it a stir. “Funny, the way Twilight’s spell worked… It’s too complicated to explain. I only went along with it because… I know you said I don’t need to apologize for anything, but this morning—”

The whole table shook as she tensed. “Spike, instead of rehashing the past—”

“I need to say this. I’ve been so worried that our friendship is over because I did something, or didn’t do something, or that dumb flower was cursed, or who knows what else. Then Twilight’s spell happened and I got a chance to see things a little differently, and—” he took a long swig of almost-boiling tea, he’d let it cool down too much “—I get that I need to accept how things are between us, who you are, and who I am. I’m not some big hero, or even a big dragon. But I still want to be your friend, Rarity. I always want to be your friend.”

Rarity rose up to a normal sitting position, sighed, and gave him the smallest of smiles. “You will always be my friend, Spikey. Nothing shall ever change that. As for you being a hero—”

“That one thing in the Crystal Empire so doesn’t count.”

She giggled and added some milk to her tea. “What I was going to say is what’s gotten you thinking that being a hero is so important, and that you somehow don’t qualify for the title? I seem to remember you helping to save everything from Princess Celestia to Pinkie’s surprise birthday party.”

“You and the others did most of that. I helped sometimes, but that’s all I ever do; I help the rest of you be amazing. We don’t have to get into that though, like I said I feel better about myself now.”

He clasped his mug in both hands, breathing in the steam and the scent of camomile. This was great, being so open and frank. Just being himself, just being Spike, had never felt better. Maybe he’d have to start drinking tea more often.

Rarity glanced behind her at the kitchen’s one window and unlatched it. A chilly night’s breeze dampened the tea’s cozy feeling, but Spike didn’t question it. Maybe this was a subtle hint that he needed to leave so she could go to bed. She returned her gaze to him and let out a deep breath, wafting her cup’s steam toward him. “Let me start over, where I said that today has been a disaster from the very start. To be more accurate, today went rapidly downhill the moment I made a certain decision. I said you did nothing wrong and I stand by that statement: you acted like yourself, and today of all days I just wasn’t ready for it. So in the spirit of starting over—”

She reached across the table and touched her hoof to his hand. “I know you think of me as some sort of heroic embodiment of perfection, Spikey, and I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a mare that doesn’t want to be thought of that way from time to time. I’ve achieved a great many things, and so to some I may be only a fashionista, a businesspony, a hero even, but to you—” she pressed his hand harder “—I’m also the pony next door.”

Something glowing blue floated through the open window. A single purple flower, plucked from the garden outside, sailed across the room and landed next to Spike’s mug. He couldn’t speak, and even if he could didn’t know what to say, much less what to think. All he could do was stare at the simple flower in front of him and listen to the sound of her voice.

“Spike, this morning I had the wild idea to say something during our gem hunting trip, something unexpected, bold, and terrifying, as I came to realize. When the moment came, I couldn’t, not to you, not to the steadfast friend who’s been with me through so much, who’s seen the very best and worst of me but still offers to carry my bags at the drop of a hat. For that and for the hurt I caused I am so sorry. That one moment has haunted me all day. I couldn’t escape it, no matter what other horrors today threw at me. For you I wanted to do something so grand, so special—”

His left hand closed around her hoof while his right stood the flower up in his half-empty mug. “This is something special. I know you’re tired, and it’s late, and we’ve both had a long day, so… would you like a hoof massage? I’m probably not any good at it, and I should go soon since there’s so much work to do tomorrow, but… Would you?”

Rarity blushed deep red, but didn’t pull her hoof away. “I couldn’t dream of anything better.”