Beauty in the Water

Beauty in the Water
B_25

The black clouds blocked the sky as they darkened in the flickers of lighting. Below, the sea blazed in flames, towering fires burning scattered wood and debris. The remains of ships dipped beneath the water to the bottom of the ocean. The remaining keg barrels sparkled and exploded into the night.

Cold winds blew hot flames.

Aboard one ship, with fire spread across its sails as, below, barrels exploded after the other, overseeing the deck, a hooded creature stood past the wheel. Raising his food onto the railing, he hopped over it, landing behind two griffons.

They faced a lone stallion.

The hooded creature slashed the neck of the first griffon and, as the second turned, knocked the handle of his blade into the second's beak. On the sides of the ships, more griffons climbed onto the ship.

The stallion shakily aimed his sword at the soon-to-be threats—while staring at his partner. "S-Sir?"

The figure latched his wrist as they dashed to the back of the deck, toward the open passage leading down into the ship. They hurried down the steps. Letting go, the figure drew his sword to his palm, slicing it. Slathering his blood across the blade, he brought it close to its hood, exhaling an emerald flame across the steel.

The weapon caught fire and, held forward, served as an impromptu torch in the dark under passage.

They carried on to the last few steps but stopped. The creature pointed to the wall. Leaning against it, the figure tossed a pouch down the flight of steps. At the bottom, a griffon charged around the corner, screaming at the false intrusion.

With a flaming sword pricked at his throat.

The griffon dropped the knife in its talons and held both of them up. His eyes glossed around as the two carried down the final steps. With the force of the tip backing him a couple of steps, the griffon felt his back press against a wall.

"M-Mercy!"

The figure looked around the lower passage, the long, small window, allowing in the hue of burning flames. Cannons and racks of their balls pressed into the windows. Cots and barrels were scattered in the corners. There was white in the water outside the window, seen for a second—before gone like a glint.

The creature shook its head and, with a claw on the griffon's shoulder, shoved him through the window, out of the ship, with a splash following. The figure then nodded down the tight passage. The stallion kept behind him as they moved.
Out from the cannons and ducking into the main hall, the two watched in the bathing of overhead torches. It led to twin doors at the end. The figure pushed them forward without haste. A small, rounded room greeted them. A hanging, overhead candle lit the space. Below it loomed a desk.

Seated before it was a Princess.

One not supposed to be here.

The hooded figure stalked toward the Princess before kneeling and bowing. The stallion twitched behind him. Both the figure and Princess were silent. Beyond these walls, the war outside raged on, the crackling of fire, the firing of cannons, the clinking of swords and the shouting of fighters.

Waves lapped the sinking ship. Water seeped through the cracks in the wall, filling the room ever slowly. Still, the Princess was taking a letter, and scratched away freely. Was it her last will? An important note to be stuffed in a bottle? Had they already accepted their deaths?

The Princess finished writing and, glancing around the room, came to glance over her shoulder, seeing the burning world outside. With a hum, she returned to the hooded figure with a remark. "It would appear we're under attack."

The figure's head rose at the words. Then he nodded in agreement. The Princess hummed at finishing her signature. Setting the quill back into its ink vase, she looked to her visitors. The ship violently rocked to the side. That vase flew and smashed and shattered against the wall—the stallion thrown aside as well.

But the sitting Princess and the kneeling figure remained still.

Both of the creatures remained composed despite the turbulent change. Still, the Princess huffed. "Is my punishment for accepting the Empire's decree of friendship? This is an attack, yes?"

The figure nodded.

The Princess rolled her eyes. "Then remove your hood. The griffons have forfeited the first right of their terms." She then chuckled. "I'm surprised they really thought that I would not bring you as a precaution." Her eyebrow rose at him. "Well? Come on, now. Remove that hood and strike fear into all."

The figure looked down in hesitation but, after a few seconds, his claws pulled the sides of his hood down. The sharp muzzle, dashing green eyes, and adventurous spines sprouted into visibility. With the cloak thrown back, the dragon was exposed.

The Princess's head cocked to the side. "I'd nearly forgotten your face." Her laughter exploded before softening into his name. "Spike."

His suppressed smile broke through. "Same to you, Princess Twilight."

"R-Royals! But I thought... but I mean..." The stallion stopped shivering, dropping to his hands and knees, laying his forehead against the ground. "Apologies for my ill manners! Forgive me, your majesty!"

Twilight coldly looked at the dragon. "Is he referring to you?"

Spike smirked. "Not at all, your highness."

She smiled. "Good."

Twilight rose from her chair and collected the parchment in her magic, levitating it and rolling it into a scroll, one that she floated into the satchel already dressed over her chest. Spike went over to her at once, having unfastened his cloak, and tying it to her instead.

"What are you doing?"

"We still need to get you off this ship," Spike began upon tying the knot, stumbling back and looking to his right. There was a coat hung on a peg, and he threw it around himself quickly. "And return you to the mainland. There's still one rowboat left hidden on the deck. The troops will still think you're aboard the main vessel."

Twilight narrowed her eyes as she came behind the dragon. "The Empire will pay for this."

Spike shook his head. "We still don't know if this is the work of their troops, a renegade portion of their army, or a flock of their pirates."

"Nonetheless," Twilight continued. "Someone betrayed us."

The stallion squealed as the two passed him and, without needing orders, followed them from behind.

The fire spread across the deck as the circle of flames closed into the center of the ship. Twilight and the stallion carried up the steps to a gathering of griffons before the entrance. Behind the crowd, however, a latch opened from the floor, and the emerald eyes of the dragon peeked around.

He slithered out from the opening and kept low across the ground, keeping on his claws as his tail crept around a griffon's ankle. Then he struck with the wind and was as swift, wrapping his tail around one's leg and throwing him backward.

His claws struck across the faces of those to his sides, as his mouth opened and his jaw set on the shoulder of the one before him. His fangs pierced the flesh, and blood spilled into his mouth. Something growled within. Satisfaction. The feeding to an aching hunger.

The griffon cried in a screech until it made no more sounds. It fainted and dropped like the injured rest. The dragon tore around and dashed on all four to the one thrown before, who just rose to his legs before looking at the beast charged at him.

He screamed as the dragon pounced on him.

Moments passed until the bloodshed had finished, and the drake blinked back into existence, feeling the warmth of red that was glossed over his lips. Shaking his head, he looked around, at the fire and the flames, and the bodies of the living stranded in the spaces not burnt.

He looked to the center mast at the barrels of water meaning. Dashing over and crouching before them, he grunted and strained his muscles at heaving the masses onto his shoulders, his abdomen tearing at the weight. He turned, walking through the fire, as his companions were over the ledge of the ship.

A wisp of purple pinpricks swirled from the Princess's horn, carrying off and up, crashing into a wall before the two. The dots joined together in a massive swirl that unlocked the gate. Through the little mirror, a rowboat laid on the other side, invisible and intangible to anyone else.

Twilight slowly glared down at the ivory stallion next to her. "You first."

"B-But shouldn't t-the Princess—"

"You're the one rowing," Twilight stated, "now get to it."

Spike threw the barrels overboard before returning for the fallen, able to collect them easily on his shoulders, a few wiggling in his grasp. He tossed them over the edge a moment later—much to the annoyed huff of Twilight.

"You are meant to kill them," Twilight started while looking away and into the wormhole with the rowboat. The stallion was seated by the paddles. "Not save them. Or is it your intent to battle the bandages a couple of months from now?"

Spike shook his head. "Defeating isn't the same as killing."

"No," Twilight said as she passed through the portal and onto the boat, taking a seat on the other end. "But killing ensures they stay defeated."

Spike walked toward the rowboat when an overhead whistle jabbed at his frills. He rolled to the side in time to see a cannonball strike where he had stood, caving in the wood, allowing the fire to swallow into the zone. Turning around within the flames, he saw out to the remaining ships and how they were turning to theirs.

"The other boats..." his words trailed away as a blanket of confused sadness draped over his expression. His mouth opened and his eyes glinted. Across the waters of hell, the ships bearing an insignia of a violet star were engulfed in one massive flame. "They've already gone."

Sailing between the burning boats, however, was another fleet of the enemy, steel and metal encasing their hulls. Their masts sprawled up to the clouds and their sails blanketed the sky. Massive and mighty. It caused the dragon to feel so small.

He glanced over at Twilight for the final time.

"Take off. Leave. Do it now!" Spike shook his head and broke back into spirit, dashing through the flames and to the portal. He brandished his sword and drew it against the rope holding the boat. "Sail for the closest shore on the mainland. It shouldn't be more than a day's journey. Ensure the Princess makes it home."

Twilight blinked as, for the first time, she came out from herself. Her face took into twisted confusion as her mouth could not close. She'd been presented with a problem, a personal problem, that she could not answer. "...Spike? What... what are you doing?"

"They're going to rain hell in this area the moment this ship is gone," Spike carried as his blade touched the rope. "You'll have to end the spell for this boat to touch the water. They'll be on you the instant they do... unless they think this was my fleet."

"S-Spike... n-no."

The dragon smiled at the end of his life, fear and relief, intermixing, into a strange sort of peace. No longer to bear the horribleness of life; unable to enjoy its goodness either. Fear of not knowing what came next. Relief in finally being able to have true rest.

"Goodbye, Twilight," Spike began as he sliced the rope, and the spell ceased, as the rowboat fell into the waters below. He pulled a claw to the side of his mouth to help carry down his next shout. "And don't write me as being too horrible in the history books!"

Quietly, slowly, the rowboat in the cold water pulled away, caught in the glow of the fire of the ship, though it faded into the darkness beyond it. Cannonballs whizzed and struck and splashed the water in explosions of sounds and destruction of floating remnants.

Spike playfully shook his head and sighed, turning around inside the fire, thankful for his scales and the element protecting his coat. "Boy oh boy," he readied his sword as griffons flew circled above, confirming his identity. "The price of loyalty sure is steep."

Once the scout had flown away, the dragon smiled and sheathed his sword, looking over to the wheel on the upper deck. He broke out into a dash across the fire, turning the flames behind emerald. He swept side to side in avoiding the still blasting cannons, coming to leap up to the railing before the wheel, swinging himself over it, and twirling himself before the instrument.

He pulled the pegs left and turned the ship to face the coming battleships, though now with his cannons aimed. The hull would now hide and protect the rowboat behind. Dashing down the steps one final time, the dragon stole himself to the middle of the ship, at its side, with a foot planted on the ledge.

All was calm for a moment as the boats circled him.

Three instruments of destruction, crowded with griffons loading cannons and bearing spears and swords, the bigger of the bunch holding axes in wait. They all gazed on the fatal ship, of the lone survivor of its crew.

Then laughter broke out.

The dragon started laughing.

It was slow, at first, a chuckle at a joke horrible told. Then it grew into a tragedy turned into a comedy as his laughter rose and chortled darker. Behind him, the flames transitioned into the darkest green, flaring in each rise and drop of his laughter.

Soon the beast was howling at the rampage before him.

The warships watched on.

Before they began to fire.

"Where is it? It didn't sink with the ship! Bombard the area! Leave no—"

"Sir! Behind you!"

...

...

Delicious blood like strawberry syrup on ice cream.

A little fire that spreads from match to paper to tree to house to building to town to city to the province to the nation to the sea.

Nothing burned higher or greater than those boats set aflame.

And still.

They weren't big enough.

...

...

...

"STAB IT!"

"I-I did!"

"Then do it again!"

...

...

The wounds... the pain. It drives one further into a frenzy. Into their unconscious, ravenous nature. To die fully alive as a mad dog. To be so wholly primitive without restraint. Slice. Tear. Bite. Feast until one is complete.

...

...

...

"Sink the boat!"

"Sir! Our troops are still on it! Maybe—"

"Down the ship, or it'll down us! Nothing can stop a dragon once it has tasted blood."

"B-But, Sir!"

"I'LL DO IT MYSELF!"

...

...

...

Explosions. Fire. Carnage.

Death is the most vicious victory.

To burn like a mad dog.

To roar like a ferocious dragon.

To have blood drip from one's fangs.

Perch oneself on the pile of bodies as flames encircle them.

This is what it means to be a warrior.

...

...

...

"It... it..."

"No need to speak, lad."

"It's... it's a demon! S-Sent to punish us from—"

"Shh. Lies told by the Princess of Equestria. Do not let that terror force you into her peace."

"It devoured two of our greatest ships!"

"And now it is dead, and not even its skeleton will remain at the bottom of the sea."

Spike blinked to the flushing of water before his eyes as his corpse sank with planks of wood and fallen goods. Wisps of blood were smooth and small as they leaked from all over him. It was not all of his own. And the beast within had stolen the last of his strength.

His expressionless face looked to the surface of the water, unable to see beyond it, everything all so cold as the flesh beneath his scales had frozen any sort of sensation. Would this be his death? A monster's end instead of a hero's sacrifice? The fates were cruel, and he was no exception to their whims.

His eyes closed to find some peace within the seconds before his lungs failed him.

Though there was a sound beyond the pelting of ferociousness against the water.

It was soft, somewhere close, and calming the vengeful waves that twirled onto him. The sea jabbed at him, one strike after another, nature smacking him into submission. It was the after current from the war above. Yet, this other element calmed the sea, all without a sound his fading frills finally heard.

It was a woman humming.

Followed by an angelic voice.

"Nature's... De-ci-sion...

Burial Beneath the Waves?

...Tis Your Fate, Indeed!

Unless You Make a True Wish

...to Forever... Be with Me..."

Spike's eyes began to close, not out of choice, as his wish was to see the beauty behind the voice. As they closed, though, a haze of white descended upon him. The dragon lost touch with the rest of his body as he descended to his grave. Warmth faded inward, and the last thing he felt were his lips.

And the heaven that touched upon them.

The waves washed over the beach, making mud out of sand, retreating and leaving a body on the shore. Another wave struck harder, raising and pushing the corpse further across the sand before rolling into the sea.

Sunlight filtered through palm trees and settled onto its torn coat.

Above, seagulls flocked in a circle over the dragon, settling lower the longer they hovered over him. Within a couple of moments, however, the body coughed—gasping oxygen. It then entered a coughing fit.

Spike hacked out his lungs as his limbs slid against the wet sand, rubbing his cheek into the density and marking himself with it. Slowly, his eyes opened. A blurry, hazy, and pounding vision awaited him. It throbbed to every convulsion of his headache.

Home... Monsters... Home...

His chest burned while his chest swirled with a slimy sort of hollowness. His limbs were empty. No muscle or any strength. Nothing more than a soul in a corpse, he tried to rise, fighting to lift himself out from his own grave.

His claws weakly curled clumps of stand as they pushed against the ground, his knees barely digging into the beach. He pushed himself up, resting on the back of his legs. Sickness consumed him as vomit swirled in his stomach.

Spike looked around the vast shore to see the stretch of white beach around him. The sea lapped at it from behind, calmer, now, with the sky a light blue. Before him, twisting within his vision, a jungle loomed.

...stranded.

One of his feet planted itself into the sand and, as he struggled to stand, there was a sound behind him that was familiar. Spike rose to his feet, stumbling, his soul still lying on the ground. He struggled a foot forward. And then another. Shambling toward the jungle to get out from the sun.

And then he tripped, and an explosion of sand blasted from beneath him.

And behind him, there was laughter.

Spike choked a breath and quickly rolled onto his side, still coughing and curling into himself, flinging a claw at his waist. It patted the air before finding the sword still stashed on him. He fumbled as he drew it, his bleary sight setting on the beach.

There, a woman's head peeked from the water as wet, purple curls were set around it. It looked at him with eyes, ones of sapphire, that set his weariness at rest. Seconds of curious watching passed before more of its face peeked from the water. It was adorned with a smile.

"Mister dragon? Yoo-hoo! This is your tongue, your language, is it not?" More of the woman rose from the sea as the water cascaded down her figure, which blurred his eyes. "Don't even try to play pretend with me, mister. I've heard you speak before, and I'm sure I have every syllable singing into perfection."

Spike sat and leaned back, heaving his every breath, forcing his sickness into stillness. Holding his sword out at the distant foe, it was no better than a kid holding a stick to a lion. The woman, however, scoffed and laid a hand on her chest.

"Really, darling? Is that the thanks you wish to pay to the Lady who has saved your life?" Her arms crossed and her head shook. Was this a trick? A trap of sorts? No. He was too weak, and she could see that. The woman... Lady, could do as she wished. "I knew you world-dwellers were ungrateful for the things you had. But to be hostile after being helped? Now that is a new low for your kind."

Every sense told the dragon to run, to hide, to fight or to escape this conversation. The Lady was something new, something different, nothing training had ever prepared him for. There'd never been another like her before. That caused her to be scary.

And yet.

"You're... right." Spike's head fell limply, and, looking to the side, he weakly tossed his sword in the same direction. Out of all the foes he dealt with, and all the tricks he'd known, this was something beyond them all. "I'm sorry."

There was already a previously established path for him to follow in such cases. But when it came to this, however, there were no rules to abide by. It was up to him, and him alone, to decide what to do. He was responsible. And all he could trust was that he was not making a mistake.

The woman watched his sword sink into the sand as his claws fell behind him, which kept him raised. His head was lowered, though his eyes raised to her. She cleared her throat. "Well... I'll be. Apologies aren't the rarest things in the world—but in some places, they are." Her delicate chin lowered as she rubbed it. "Okay then. Consider your apology... accepted."

Spike chuckled and coughed and chuckled and coughed.

"But tell me this, mister...?"

"Spike."

"Well, Spike, you may call me Lady Rarity." Rarity laughed with a hand resting on her chest. The haze of his vision started to reveal exactly what that was. "It would be tedious, however, for you to call me Lady in every endeavour." She smiled at him with a sly look, one that drew a few more beats from his heart. "So please. Call me Rarity. Unless when it becomes pertinent you call me Lady."

His mouth was opened, and it wasn't because of his breathing. Rarity was the whitest white he'd ever seen in his life. The embodiment of beauty: angelic pureness. Those violet curls gleamed in their sleekness.

And finally, the dragon couldn't help but be rude.

"What... are you?"

"Spike! My word! Manners are still something taught above the waters, are they not?" Rarity shook her head and crossed her arms, hiding something from his view again, something that drew his unseeing eyes. "Even if you must ask an inappropriate question, at least ask it appropriately!"

His mouth opened to no words.

Rarity huffed with a roll of her eyes. "They never taught you how to ask things delicately, have they?"

With words an impossibility, all the poor boy could do was shake his head—summoning a sharp stab from his forehead. His claw pressed against the pain.

Afar, the Lady sighed. "I suppose I have my work cut out for me."

Spike watched as she twirled back into the water, and his eyes widened at seeing her bottom half. Her tail, broad though trim, flicked in the air before diving into the water. For a moment, she was gone before resurfacing on the beach. Letting the waves carry her in, she was brought close to him...

...though he struggled to crawl away.

"Darling?" Rarity asked simply by his feet as she crawled to be next to him. "Just where is it are you going?"

Spike swallowed his hesitation. "S-Siren! You're a siren?"

Rarity's eyes fluttered at the accusation as her hand struck into the sand, holding herself upright as she thought about it. "Me? Being one of those? What makes you so sure, dearest?"

"E-Everything! You're perfect! I've already felt things about you that I've felt for none else in all the world." Now it was his turn to blink after having outed himself. "I-I mean. Your beauty. Your voice. There's nothing I could compare it to... because nothing compares to you." His lips kept open. "That's... the effect of a siren, n-no?"

Rarity turned her head away, her smoky mane falling over an eye, as she smirked and looked at him with the other. "I'm afraid, love, those are just my natural charms." She then scrunched her lips as her head bounced to the side. "Welll, mostly natural. There was a bit of practice and modelling. Singing to keep the voice crisp, and a mirror to chip away at the image within."

A shake of her head disregarded all of that. "Still. Previous compliments are nothing to an outright accusation of beholding power over the heart." Rarity leaned toward him, over his torso, which could not move; her hand on his abs, as her fingers walked from island to island of muscle. "I have the most wonderful of suspicions, Spike, that I am going to like you dearly."

The poor boy shook. "Am I already under your spell?"

"In some ways? Yes." Her finger twirled over a spot on his muscles that she had liked, enjoying the density of strength that flexed beneath her chest. It tightened as she traced around, wanting to explore how it moved. "But if you're wondering if you still have your free will? You do." Then her chin came to rest on his chest, looking up at him, the beauty from the water. "Or... as much freedom as one charmed and smitten may have."

Spike turned his head to cough and kept that way, still blushing.

And sweating.

"Wha... what... what do you want from me?"

"Firstly?" Rarity's head lifted from his chest as she flopped her bottom next to him. The two laid back on the beach, facing the sky and the sun. Waves rolled before them as the sound washed into their ears. "To aid you in improving your health. One is responsible for the life they save. To let you die here would, after all, be wasteful."

It seemed too good to be true.

But his stomach growled, and the Lady laughed at him for it. Leaning away from him, she crawled back into the water, her eyes never leaving him. "Are you able to stand? Walk?"

His eye twitched but, in pushing his claws against the stand, came to slowly stand. He wobbled, finding his balance. Intense nausea washed over him, but he braced against it. Slowly, he nodded.

"Very good." Rarity turned and pointed across the shore. "I know you struggle to see, but follow the shore, and you'll find a cave. Round, on edge, and the entrance is on the side facing us. I've already prepared a bit of space for us there." Her index finger tapped on her chin. "I trust you won't ruin it?"

Spike's nod would have to work as a reply.

"Delightful! Catch you soon!"

Her body was caught by the wave rolling back into the sea, and, once more, her colourful, sparkling tail wagged to him before slipping into the water.

The confused warrior lingered for a moment on what exactly had happened. The woman... didn't seem malicious. Yet sirens were delightful right up until they had their way with you. Still, if she had wanted his life, she could have taken it when he was unconscious. That proved, somewhat, that she didn't wish ill of him.

Or she wants something more than my life... but then... what could I ever offer her?

The sword in the sand cleared in his vision. Wrapped in it was a charm. One of the sun, a logo that was replaced long ago. His eyes closed, and his breath burned. Even in the cloudy sickness of his mind, Twilight's voice came clearly.

"Spike! What is your duty?"

"M-Monsters..."

He reached for his sword and fell over as a result, fading from consciousness on the sand.

It was dark.

A fire crinkled, and it echoed off stone walls. Within the darkness was an orange glow accompanied by warmth. Something was caressing his body. His eyes cracked open to the image overhead. The face of the Lady who had saved him from the sea.

"And so he awakens."

Spike blinked into the world around him and looked around, inside the small, dark cave, one where the glow of a fire bathed the walls. Be it habit or instinct, his eyes glanced around for his weapon. An annoyed huff, however, drew his face up.

And into the hand that stroked his jaw.

"If you are looking for that sword of yours, dear, you could have simply asked." Rarity tilted her head a bit and smiled, fixated on stroking him, her fingers glossing over the bearded scales that were setting in. He looked rugged, though the Lady did not seem to mind. "It's leaning just over there. Would you like me to fetch it for you? And aid you in directing its sharp end toward moi?"

Spike shook his head and let the silly matter drop. "N-No, sorry. You... you're not a siren, right?"

Rarity huffed and, even though she scratched the inside of his jaw, pulled back away from him to deal with the silly accusation. Both of them regretted it as they enjoyed the sensation. "I assure you, dear, that I am not that which you fear. While the compliment was flattering at first, now it is... ahem!"

Spike's eyes had wandered downward.

"Excuse me, darling," Rarity began with irritation in her voice as her arms crossed underneath her chest. That did nothing to help the problem. "But may I inquire as to what you're looking at?"

Spike wore the dumbest expression ever held in his life as he looked unabashedly at her chest, at the large, round, white balls of fuzz, dense with softness, topped with creamy pinkness. They seemed full. Buoyant. It called on everything within to avert his eyes.

And even as his blushing face turned away, his eyes still glanced back, then flicked away, like a hopeless boy half his age.

"For such a knight to act like such a kid! I swear they raise you land-dwellers like such children." But the Lady seemed to recount her words at seeing the innocence in his shivering. Her lips separated, and delicate words passed through. "Unless... tell me, is this the first pair you've ever seen?"

Spike trusted himself to nod.

And Rarity slapped a hand on her face.

"No wonder your fear of sirens." Rolling her eyes and glancing around the cave, Rarity spotted the seashells tied together by pearls. She turned away from him and walked to it, bending over, offering him another view he couldn't comprehend. "You would submit before even hearing their call. But I shall hide these away so as to not further test your resolve."

Rarity tied the shells to her chest that, while it did the trick, sometimes rubbed her in the most horrible of ways. She flounced her hair off her shoulders and hooked the pearls over her back. Clipping them to an apt tightness, she turned back around and lowered her shoulders in doing so.

Spike had sat up with his back against the wall, with a claw hovered before his face, respecting her by not seeing things he shouldn't. However, there were gaps in his talons, which still let him see everything.

"You're hopeless."

Spike glanced away but nodded all the same.

And then he blinked and looked back.

"Y-Your tail! It's..."

Rarity chuckled and sauntered back to him, not wearing anything for her bottom, as his eyes settled on her thighs. Not too big and not too small. Just right. Perfection itself. Smooth fuzz coating each one.

They rubbed together and teased the paradise between.

"Perfectly still a part of me in a different essence," Rarity said as she bent next to a fire, a series of sticks laid before it. Though she lifted one, her head turned away in disgust, bringing it over to him. "And to properly answer your previously inappropriate answer, as for the matter of what I am? Your kind knows us as mermaids, and we live under the sea."

His eyes rose from her legs to the skewer being offered to him, a dead fish on its end, already pierced for him. He took it without thinking, and she sat next to him after that. He watched her sit at the collection of squish that cushioned her seating.

"Please stop leeching at places you shouldn't."

Spike flinched and looked away. He was hot, sweating, and having to swallow his shame. "S-Sorry. I..."

"Haven't you seen a woman naked? Your previous compliments on my looks don't mean as much if there isn't any competition." Rarity curled and hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She watched him with a messy mane and a quiet smile. "Don't they teach manners on your side of the world? The proper etiquette to treat a lady? The way you should compose yourself to be... a gentle dragon, as it t'were?"

Spike's shoulders raised with his breath and collapsed for the same reason. He crumpled into himself, at a shame and at a loss, not sure of what to make of this at all. "N-Nothing like that. I know... how I should compose myself on royal affairs."

His eyes dropped to the dead fish on the end of his stick. "But Twilight brings me along to be the opposite of gentle."

"I see." Rarity cleared her throat. "Is that why you chose to raise your sword as opposed to your claws against me?"

The fire illuminated the softness of his face, the sadness of his expression, and the tiredness of his soul. Clapping a claw onto his neck, he rubbed it, unsure of how much to keep... and how much to give away. In a sense, he already felt he was dead and simply living in a strange dream afterward.

"It's more... clean, that way."

"I was never aware that killing was something that could be cleanly done."

"Cleaner," Spike said while shaking his head, "but never fully clean."

"I suppose I'll leave you to your distance on that matter." Rarity rolled her head on her knees, an adorable, confused expression about her. "But what of that fish I caught for you? I nearly expected you to eat it raw."

His head hung on his chest in shame. That was another confession he didn't like to give. He'd spoken more in an hour than he had a month; he told another more in a minute than he had in a lifetime. "I-I... I don't really eat meat."

"Really? You? Even despite the claws, fangs, and the whole... I don't know, being a dragon thing?"

Now it was Rarity's time to flinch at seeing the disappointment wash over him. Her head lifted from her knees at seeing him slump into himself. "Now, never mind that. It makes plenty of sense now that I think about it. For such a big dragon, you're awfully lean— more than what could be healthy."

Spike shrugged and hurdled into himself. He raised the stick, and thus, the fish before his snout. He sniffed it as his face clenched. "I do the best with what I allow myself to eat. I've... tasted flesh before. Each time I do." His breath bulked with guilt. "Something inside of me. Something I don't like. It... comes out. Takes over."

"Have you ever wondered why that may be, darling?"

His eyes fluttered over to the woman, who scooted closer to him, enough that their sides touched. The fur of her coat brushed against the smoothness of his scales. She was warm, scented, a feminine fire that infused him.

"You'd rather have a sword than your claws. That way, you don't feel the visceral thrill of battle," Rarity began once she was scooted next to him, coming to lay her head on his shoulder. Smiling, she traced a finger across his chest. "And you don't taste flesh because you're scared of what may come out. You should be, too, if that previous rampage is the basis of your fear."

The fire crackled with a cloud of floating embers.

"You saw that?"

"I just so happened to be passing by when I decided to see what the fuss of all those large ships was about." Rarity hummed at feeling tension in his muscles, and her lovely tune kept beneath her sung words. "I saw all that had happened. The before and the after."

Spike was shaking his head and looking at the dead fish. "I'm not sure if I should be calling you lucky or not... because I don't remember what happened afterward."

"You were near death, and the dragon inside wouldn't allow that." Rarity still hummed with her throat pressed against his arm, the vibrations of her humming tickling his scales. "And you have no control over him. He was too ferocious for that. It took the whole sinking of a ship to take him down."

Spike looked at the beauty with disbelief. "And yet you saved me?"

"Indeed!" Rarity tapped his snout with a finger before peeling away; half of her face was covered by the smoky curls of her mane. "And I'm the same Lady offering you that fish. You should eat it. I am told they become rotten after some time out of the water."

His stomach growled. Looking down at it, he saw what laid beneath the purple and green scales, beneath the skin and muscle and flesh. It was the swirling hunger of a beast. The craving of a monster to devour.

His eyes widened at the instincts suppressed all his life... and he truly heard their whispers for the first time.

"I might hurt you," he said without looking at her, at which her giggles tickled his ears.

"My! You might be the first creature I've ever met that could hurt me by eating fish!"

"It's more complex than that."

"Tell me about it!" Rarity followed up. "You're complexity hiding behind a veil of simplicity. Or maybe you attempt to act simply to deal with all that confusion within." Her chin rubbed his shoulder. "Be assured, however, my chances of survival go up if you devour that creature."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because, my dearest Spike, what else on this island do you have to eat?"

Spike swallowed. "Maybe... there are some berries in the jungle, or—"

"Enough to fill your stomach, heal your wounds, and bestow you with the energy to sail home?"

His staring irritated the woman.

"Fine! It would appear that none in your life have ever said anything nice about you, and so, I now will pick up that lifelong weight." Rarity pulled from his shoulder and coughed into a delicate fist. Her sapphire eyes narrowed on him, commanding his view and letting him see the true shine of blue. "Have you ever sat down with yourself and seen what the beast within craves?"

His eyes dropped to her chest. "More than you can know."

A finger settled on his chin and raised him back to her face. "Another time, darling. Focus. The beast—as we shall call 'it' for now—desires to eat meat and indulges in violence. You're scared of giving it any power, so you try to do neither."

Spike nodded.

"But you're also rejecting the part of yourself that needs its strength from consuming meat, and that can take pride in its duty of fighting." Rarity shook her head at him, crossing her hands and squeezing them between her thighs. "You haven't mastered that other side to you. Merely sealed it away with the wish that it does not escape. But your nature grows bigger in its neglect... and it's far more unforgiving once it's unleashed."

Spike shook his head, but it wasn't in disagreement.

"How can you know all this?"

Rarity smirked at him, though it wasn't one of confidence. "Do you believe yourself to be the only creature ever in a dilemma? Others may not have suffered the same way you have. It's just the beasts they wrestled are a little smaller."

What did she want him to do? Why was she here, and why was she telling him all of this? This wasn't normal. Twilight always either had an answer or an order, and his mind was too foggy for answers.

"Just..." Spike broke out the word as he shut his eyes, "...what is it you want me to do?"

"To eat that fish." Rarity laid her hand on the stick and raised it, holding the fish over the campfire. She watched him as she kept the grip steady. "And to eat as many as you need to quell that hunger." Her hand let go of the stick, but it kept upright in his claws. "You'll find it easier to ease the dragon within with that."

He wanted to feast. To devour that fish and fill the emptiness of his stomach. Its taste, its flavour. To eat something of substance as opposed to fluffy foods. But he wasn't sure what he would be unlocking after taking that first time.

"You're sure I won't turn into a monster?"

"Only if you eat more than you need."

"And what if I want more?"

"You have a lifetime of suppression! So put that skill to good use."

The fish lifted from the fire as its shadow was cast on the wall behind it. The silhouette of the dragon sat below it. The beast opened its maw. The fish was driven into it, slowly, with half severed in a single bite.

Spike closed his eyes and chewed as weight released in his shoulders. Heaven warmed his mind while the taste of cooked fish spread across his mouth. He swallowed the mess, a hearty portion of substance and nutrients, which warmed his throat on its way down.

It slipped into his stomach and tickled the emptiness with his presence, an injection of fuel pumping into his blood. Color returned to his vision, a levity returning to his spirit. For a moment, he felt alive.

And then he went for another bite—but noticed that Rarity was looking away.

"Sthuin' wrung?"

His full mouth splattered bits from his lips.

Rarity stuck out her tongue and gagged before turning away. She waved the back of her hand to him in good faith. "It's fine! Fine, fine! Ree-aally!"

"Thwen..." Spike swallowed the next portion in a single gulp. "Why are you looking away?"

"Oh, darling, it's simple!" Her back faced him, smooth and white, curving inward to her midsection. Those pearls of her bra were tight against her back... with an urge to play with them. "For as much as I want to help you in eating those fish, and I shun you in no way for your means of consuming them."

Seconds passed before the girl could finish her point.

"But EEEWWW!"

It hadn't been that much longer after his meal that the dragon had allowed himself to leave the cave. Rarity had left him to his feast to collect coconuts and berries and other such things for tomorrow. That meant she planned on sticking with him for at least another day.

His heart leapt at the prospect, but his mind was weary by it.

Moonlight shone across the beach as the waves softly lapped across it, calm and steady, the sea at peace after its previous storm. Spike walked into the water, feeling the sand become dense beneath his soles. It was cool, but not cold. Still, it wasn't to his liking.

"Could you do... that thing for me? Only for tonight! The fireplace is out, and—"

Spike brewed a small fire within but, instead of firing it out, he kept it inside, ensuring he held the balance to maintain it. The resulting heat passed through his body, warming the water around him. With a smile, he dropped to his knees, having forgone all his clothing in the cave.

He looked down at himself and at his wounds. Seaweed, and something within it, had been wrapped around his major injuries. Some of the cuts, however, hadn't been washed. Dipping a claw beneath the warmed water, he cradled some and lightly poured it over the cuts.

It stung, but he bore it well.

In fact.

It was a lot easier to handle on a full stomach.

Fish. I ate a fish today.

What would Twilight think about that?

What would she sentence me to do as punishment?

Or would that be the final straw, and she would be forced to label me as a monster?

Wiggling beneath the water broke the dragon from his thoughts. Down in the water, swimming before his submerged knees, a couple of fish had dared close to the shore—no doubt intrigued by the heat. Spike looked at them while his meal lingered on his tongue.

He raised a claw, flexing its talons, hovering it before his opposite shoulder. One clean strike through the water, and he could impale one with ease. However, there was no hunger in his stomach.

Something held up his claw for a moment... but then it relented as it fell back to his side.

Perhaps... I was mistaken. An issue I struggled a lifetime with... helped in a single conversation. Is it because she already believed that made it so easy? Without her belief, would I have turned into worse?

His shoulders dropped.

She's right.

I am more complex than I let on.

Spike sighed and then proceeded to grip his head. He strangled his scalp and cried at the twinkling sky above. Before him, something else rose from the water, the figure of the woman set before him.

Her wet mane hung over one side of her face.

Rarity saw him clawing at his own head and, after a second of confusion, a burst of laughter broke. "Is this one of your treasured meditations from wherever you hail from?"

His claw plopped in the water. "Nah! This is just me being an idiot."

Rarity giggled from out in the water, where it was dark, but the glow of the moonlight shone on her alone. There was fear in his heart that she would slip away into the night. One dive: and she would be out of his life.

The whole encounter would have felt as though it were all a dream.

"I take it that's not something you get to be often?"

"It's not often that I get to be, well, myself." Spike's face scrunched as he fell back onto his rump; his claws sunk behind him. "I just called myself an idiot there, didn't I?"

"At least you're not too much of one to have caught that!"

"Woo-hoo."

Rarity rolled her eyes and glided a hand through the water, splashing it in the dragon's direction. "If your idiocy and wounds will allow it, do you care to join me in the water for a bit? Though I know drowning is apt to make one fancy the water a little less."

Spike hadn't wanted to go fully back into the water so soon, but, at a request from a Lady like her, his body already crawled forward. He waded through the shallow shore until the ground fell away at his feet.

From there, he swam to the mermaid encased in moonlight, as the only sounds were the splashes from the water. Upon joining her, the Lady came closer, only a foot separating them. He blushed and stared at her.

And then he noticed what had been missing.

"You're, u-uh, missing your shells."

Rarity glanced down at her pair, smirking, glancing back at him. "Indeed I have."

"I, er, well, u-uh..." Spike looked around for an escape or another to switch the conversation to... but nothing came to mind. "H-How come?"

"I wanted to see all the possible effects I could have on the sweetest boy that ever lived." Rarity swam closer to touch his nose again, smiling in delight as he took to a goofy grin. "And that I can trust him not to look down. You are a knight capable of following orders, are you not?"

Spike swallowed. "I dunno." He smiled at her. "I've never been asked to do the impossible before."

"Spike!" Rarity laughed, splashing him with water. "Are you flirting with me? I would have never thought you capable!"

"Because you're perfect?"

"Oh, that does it, mister!"

Spike hadn't been expecting to catch perfection in his arms, but the Lady threw herself into him, coming to fall against his chest. She laid the side of her face against it. Closing her eyes, she breathed gently.

"You're hot."

"I hate the cold."

"And this trick warms yourself up?"

"Something I learned for a friend, long ago." His arms raised and fell from the water, unsure if they were to wrap around her. He'd gone without hugs, no contact at all, though most of his life. His sword was the closest thing he held to him. "Then it got repurposed, as you can imagine."

"I believe I like this use of it most of all."

"Me too." Spike cleared his throat. "Although I don't get to use it often."

"Maybe, dear, you should live the kind of life where you are able."

"That would require me not to go home."

"Have you considered it?"

"Not until now."

Confusion engulfed him as, for the first time in a while, he became alive as himself: as the dork buried beneath the role of knight. There was always something to be done. Now, however, his only goal... was to live.

Something denied to him.

"Rarity?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think you could tell me who you are now?"

"You wish to spoil the surprise early?"

"More like my heart and mind are kinda battling each other right now, and I don't know which one to go with."

"They... never really taught you how to talk, did they?"

"I was rarely ever allowed to talk."

"No wonder for your initial muteness to me," Rarity said as her arms splashed out from the water; they crossed over his neck, and she pressed herself tightly to him. Her chest squished against him, adding additional heat to his stove. "You keep quiet to avoid being awkward."

"S-Should... i-is it better if I go back to being silent?"

"Not at all! I prefer you as an awkward derp." She hummed into his chest. "And I'm willing to answer any questions you have, but under one condition."

"And that is?"

"You must put your arms around me."

The water splashed as his arms crossed over Rarity's delicate torso, nearly overshooting due to how small she was. The dragon melted at the contact. Of holding such smallness against himself. It was bliss to hold her against him, her warmth, her coat, the feeling of her hair resting on his scales.

His legs kicked in the water to keep them afloat, sometimes gracing the edge of her tail. He hugged her tighter, enough to secure Rarity against him. It wasn't done out of request. Only that, once he was holding her, only then did he realize how badly he needed to hold someone.

"My name is Lady Rarity, a mermaid born from under the sea, and in some regards, I am a princess in the place where I was raised." Spike didn't even pull back in surprise. He brushed the side of her head with his own. "Life never changed there. Everything was always done exactly the same with little use for deviation. Food and fashion knew of no variation."

Spike chuckled. "Sounds like Twilight's paradise."

'Funny how, down there, I thought the same of her." Rarity felt him shift away and clung to him—denying his escape. "Yes, dearest. Words of the world travel lower than you know. Just because my kind doesn't partake in your ways does not mean we are not aware of the news at the top."

Thousands of questions breached his mind.

However.

Only one mattered.

"Is that how you came to find me?"

Rarity nuzzled into him. "I never actively searched for you, darling, but in my journey to find better for myself—I did stumble into you." She laughed to herself this time, needing to be held as her grip weakened on him. "You've sailed a lot, and I've encountered your boat several times. I've seen how you're like with others. Then I've seen what you're truly like alone."

Spike twitched. "Y-You mean that—"

A finger pressed on his lips as, below, Rarity looked at him from his chest, resting her chin on it. She was a wet beauty; an incarnation of temptation. "Yes. All those nights you might have felt alone, rest assured, I was watching you from the water."

The news should have been surprising.

And yet, it wasn't.

"I... always felt like something... someone was watching me." The words flowed through him as his mouth no longer knew restraint. "Fate. A caring star. We give many names to such a sensation. For me, it was always the glint in the sea."

Rarity flicked down his chin before returning her finger there, feeling his bearded scales, the light streak that ran across his jaw. Her finger was smooth and soft, and she enjoyed playing with him. "Y'know, for someone who discovered they have a stalker, you have taken the news rather well."

Spike chuckled. "Who would complain about a goddess watching over them?"

Rarity gasped and pulled away. "My... I was worried that, in meeting you, that you would turn out different from expectation. But I do not believe I've ever seen you act this way around anyone else."

Spike smiled. "Then you must be someone very special."

"Or I'm the first lady that has allowed you to get so close in all possible senses."

He shrugged.

Her finger swatted his snout. "Bad! You were supposed to reaffirm that I was, indeed, special."

"But you might be right—you are the only lady I've ever spoken informally to."

"A lady already knows and worries about such things!" Rarity continued after pulling away from him. "It's the duty of a gentledrake, in fact, or fable, to assure a woman of all that she may crave to be." She looked up to gaze at the moon, posing her shoulder to him. "We'll always suspect and reject whatever you have to say. But we'll also be pleased by those lies nonetheless."

There wasn't time to meditate on those words as the dragon swam over and, as the mermaid turned to glance at him, she felt two arms cross over her back. Taken into his chest once more, she felt his breath on her ear.

"Then it's thanks to you," he began in a whisper, "that for the first time in my life, I feel like someone."

Rarity laughed as he pulled away but would not let him have the advantage. She wiggled up in his arms enough to peck his chin in a kiss. "Clever boy! There are numerous ways to assure a lady." She then raised higher and delivered a kiss on his lips. "And we have a few means for you of our own."

Spike went dumb. His expression slacked in satisfaction, and his teeth exposing the dork within. His eyes were on the stars, but he did not see any at all. His head fell to the side before it hung over his shoulder. He chuckled like a love-struck fool.

"I left my home in search of better so I may be able to change it on my return." Rarity lowered beneath his chin while looking up at him. Her snout pointed down, and her eyes set upon him. She was a delicate thing asking to be tended to. "I then found you. It was not the silent warrior that I enjoyed—though you are well-dressed in blood."

She hiccuped, hummed, and cleared her throat. "But it was the goof, in the hours that he was alone, that I took the most interest in." Rarity chuckled to herself. "Maybe it was because I wanted to see more of him. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was the only one in the world aware of him. Nonetheless, when you drowned the night before, I was finally bound to reveal myself to you."

Spike was still holding her against him. "And what is it you desire now?"

"Currently? Another kiss from you." Rarity smiled. "It doesn't feel as swell if the other side is still."

Spike nodded and blushed and snorted and realized his mistake. He breathed slowly, lowering the same, unable to keep himself steady.

Rarity giggled. "What's the trouble, dear? You have no trouble battling an army by yourself. You were able to sate the dragon within by balancing yourself on meat. But when it comes to a kissing a Lady—that's when you shake?"

Spike awkwardly chuckled. "Only because it's you."

"Well, well, well! If that's the case," Rarity started as she rose a bit from the water, "then I should help make this easier." She bridged the distance between them, leaving the final inch to the dragon. His eyes shut, and he leaned in, feeling her softness on his scales.

The kiss was like lying in a bed of flowers as the morning dew was carried in the breeze. Her lips were trim but taut, massaging against his own, their shape teasing him to chase after them. He did his best to catch them, to suckle on them, to do whatever he could with them.

And she made little sounds. Whines and moans and other sounds caused Spike to feel good. Fear rose at them being fake. Something to please his ego. Be it fact or fable, it was done to make him feel better... and maybe, there was nothing wrong with taking pride in those sounds.

Seconds passed, and they broke away, still bathed in the moonlight.

Spike breathed through his mouth, silently gasping, while the Lady watched him.

Then he found his voice.

"H-How... was I?"

"Honestly? Terribly wonderful."

"Is... is that good, or..."

"It means you have no skill in using your lips," Rarity lectured, "but when it comes to raw talent and form... you are someone I would very much like to do that again." She cleared her throat. "Like, perhaps, now."

Spike smiled and went for the kiss, with a claw cupping her cheek, able to hold perfection instead of a sword.

Days passed on the island, and the mermaid had not left him, helping with acquiring supplies, and building the raft. They had a little camp on the beach, as well as one inside the cave. Spike carried logs of wood over his shoulder while Rarity held a collection of coconuts in her arms.

"So mermaids have magic too?"

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Everyone has magic in some sense." She tapped her shoulder into his chest. "Even with your ability to breathe fire. I'm able to transform myself with that magic. It required practise and study, and only a few others have done the same as I."

"And what is it you plan to do once we reach the mainland?"

"To travel and explore and devour the world as it t'were." The confession of her plans was innocent and made sense. However, the loose implication that she would be leaving him hurt. It was so casually said. Like what they had didn't mean much. "I would like to try and merge our worlds within the means of fashion."

"Really?" Spike asked on reaching the collection of other logs, lowering and dropping the one on his shoulder with the rest of his family. He planted his claw on its side, rolling it tightly with the pack. "You wish to be a tailor?"

"A touch more than that, darling." Rarity dropped to her knees and released the coconuts in a pile before the campfire. She dusted her hands together and looked at him from over her shoulder. "I would design, create, and then distribute every article of fashion I could."

Spike turned and sat on the sand, leaning his back against the logs. "You think there's demand for that?"

"Gah! Judging the merit of a prospect by its potential material success! You knights are all alike."

The sea licked at the beach as the crashing of waves came in whispers on the wind. The dragon scratched his knees and looked away, chuckling. "Apologies."

"You are not to be blamed! Just the culture that only values process and result." Rarity crossed her legs in the sand and faced him. "But I believe there is a market for what I have to offer. My kind refuses to wear clothes and—strike that goofy grin from your face."

Spike loosely slapped a claw over his mouth to hide his smile.

"And your kind has no clue of the various inspirations and fashions that exist beneath the water." Rarity clasped her hands and set them between her thighs. They rubbed together and drew them deeper within. "My hope is I can breathe the breeze of the sea into the current fashion world. Enough, at least, to provide me with work."

She lowered her head. "From there, I'll be able to immerse myself in the world and the various kinds of life it holds. Hopefully, within that, I may find whatever it is I'm looking for."

Spike raised the claw from his face. "And you want me to help you?"

"Only if you are willing." Rarity stood from the sand and came to him, placing herself between his legs and laying back against him. The back of her head laid against his chest. "You do not owe me for saving your life. That debt is paid with every breath you still breathe."

"I'd do anything for you, Rares," Spike went on, seeing the hands between her thighs. "But I'm afraid I don't know much about fashion. And I've... kept myself distant with most walks of life." He reached a claw between her legs, feeling the back of her hand and taking it within his claw. He squeezed with encouragement. "But I'll assist in whatever way I can."

"I just need help with getting me used to life on the mainland," Rarity answered and raised her hand, allowing him to hold it more. "A place to live, others to make decent with, where I can find supplies and how to make a few coins."

"I have a lot of bits saved up from my duty."

Rarity twisted within his legs to glare up at him. "And you're perfectly willing to spend it on a girl you hardly know?"

"Easier to do if it's on a lady." Spike absentmindedly squeezed her hand and felt down its shape. Then, he chuckled. "Besides. I have no ambitions. I was never really going to spend any of it anyway."

Rarity settled back into him, resting her other hand on his leg, feeling the bulk of his thigh, the raw muscle that composed it, the strength within its fibres. "But... don't you crave something else? A different way, a different path of life?"

Spike sighed. "Dunno. All I've ever done is fight for Twilight. I don't know much beyond that."

"Maybe, if you let yourself put down that sword and picked up a bag instead, you could explore with me, and find something else that resonates with you." Rarity squeezed his leg and found her fingers couldn't even squish down his layer of scales. "Though it is easier said than done. Walking away from all that you know... it's no easy feat."

"Let's focus on getting to the mainland first."

"Indeed."

Neither moved.

"After a few moments of this..."

"You'd be a fool to think I'd let you leave."

The sea was calm, and the wind was steady in its direction to the east. Rarity had known where she carried the drowned dragon from and in which way home was pointed at. The raft laid finished on the shore, tied by seaweed to a wooden post.

It was no grand vessel—but it would have to do.

The dragon stood on the end of the raft in feeling it bob with the waves. His clothing was still tarnished, but the back of his tattered jacket lifted with the wind. Closing his eyes, he breathed the sea and the freedom he sought.

For so long, he'd been shackled to being something instead of someone.

"You look troubled."

His eyes opened to the splashing in the water.

Looking down, he saw Rarity's head emerging from beneath the surface, looking at him with glowing eyes. She crossed her arms on the edge of the raft and lingered in the water. Spike sighed and bent a knee, offering his claw, and her hand fell into it.

"The truth is that..." How could he phrase this without sounding like a coward? Or perhaps the confessions of weakness were, in some respects, a courageous act. "... I'm afraid of going home."

Rarity's head cocked while it laid on her wrist. "Were your last words to the princess unkind?"

"Not at all."

"You suspect she would be upset to have found a friend returned from the dead?"

"Only that my arrival should have been sooner."

"Then what worries you?"

Twilight's voice spoke.

"What is your duty, Spike?"

Spike held her hand in his claw tighter than he should have, needing that delicate smallness, the softness of her skin and the comfort of its warmth to battle his inner-tides. Rarity should have chastised him for clenching a lady's hand as such. Rather than that, her other hand clasped over his trembling claw.

"I've lived with only one purpose all my life," Spike began by entrusting himself to the stranger. "Twilight made me repeat the promise ever since I took its vow." He inhaled the strength to compose the words. "Go out and defeat monsters, and make sure you bring none home."

Rarity didn't have any wise snide for the promise. Her eyes twinkled in finding another piece of the puzzle. Her thumb rubbed over the edge of his talon. "Go out there and fight, but should you become a beast, do not return home."

The words floated into the air and were taken away by the wind.

"It's for that reason I've never trusted the dragon within," Spike went on, "though I've repressed him into a monster for it. But there is also another meaning to that vow. Which is not to bring monsters home."

"Go out there and murder. Repress who and what you are. And do not allow yourself to succumb to friendship." Rarity had rattled the words with poison in her tone. "Such a good boy shouldn't have been made to live so foolishly. No wonder why you are confused. Any would be too."

His head shook. "And now I'm going back changed... with you."

Rarity lifted her head away from him. "Do you still believe me to be a monster? A siren?"

"I see you as a curious goddess set free on the world." Spike smiled and, with his other claw, brought it to the side of her head. Rarity leaned into it, looking at him, feeling his talons stroke her hair. "But Twilight... she struggles with others. Anything different. After what the dragons did to Celestia, she..." He exhaled heavily. "It's a miracle Twilight didn't punish me worse when we were kids."

Rarity wasn't interested in that. "Do you wish to part ways here?"

Spike shook his head. "Never in my life."

"Then spend this trip discovering and accepting yourself." Rarity climbed onto the boat as water splashed down her frame. Her tail flopped on the wood of the deck. "And exploring this connection we seem to share. If you can become assured, then in those findings, you might be able to sway the Princess as well."

Spike laid over the woman as her hands guided him over, his hand reaching his waist, unsheathing his knife. He slashed the seaweed holding them at the shore and, as he dropped the weapon, he then chased after fuzzy white lips.

The voyage had taken days, and it was safe from terrible weather.

The two would keep each other company in the bulk of their trip, sitting against the mast of the raft, eating food and drinking water, speaking of their pasts. Around them sprawled the sea, its waves and the fins poking through them. Schools of fish would pass underneath the raft.

Rarity would sometimes dip into the water and swim, scouting the area and collecting resources. At the same time, the dragon would meditate on the raft, conversing, in steady breathing, with the untamed beast. He listened to it. Its hunger for flesh; its thirst for blood. He couldn't abide by its requests—but he understood them.

He vowed, with what was within reason, to sate the beast.

Its roars softened to grumbles.

But that would have to do.

On the third day, the mainland loomed before them with its emerald, hulking mass and the town that hung on the port. Gallant ships rocked in their docks as the raft sailed between the large groups. It approached the lowered bridge.

Two guards stood on it above, coming to toss down a rope, one the dragon took as he hugged himself to the mast of the raft. He pulled himself into the small dock next to a ladder. Once settled, he tied the rope to the mass and, looking to Rarity, began up the ladder to the bridge.

He clambered atop it to two spears pointed at him.

"State your identity and purpose."

Spike raised his claws to the air and bowed. "Spike the Dragon. Knight for Her Highness, Twilight Sparkle. The purpose is to return and report to her at once."

One of the guards shook his head from a distance, which was covered by the length of his spear. "Sir Spike was defeated in the attack of Twilight's convoy.'"

"I survived with help."

"Prove your identity."

"Most of my belongings... belong to the bottom of the sea." Spike slowly lowered his claws to his sword, which drew the spears near, but he pulled and held out his sheathe. "This blade bears the Princess's royal seal. That may not be enough to clear your doubts. But all I require is entry to return to the Princess. From there, she can decide to recognize me."

The guards glanced at each other and, with a nod, holstered their weapons. "You may enter. Our base on this port isn't adequate... but we should have enough supplies to aid in your trip." They then glanced over at the other, who appeared over the ladder.

Guards weren't supposed to be fazed, but they became speechless in seeing the beauty, one the one wearing only shells to cover her most special of spots. Rarity smiled at them while coming to lean into the dragon's side. "Greetings, gentlemen."

They swallowed and looked at the dragon—they did not have the strength to speak directly to a goddess. "And who is this?"

"A Lady in a rowboat who happened to find my body before it became a corpse." Spike looked awkwardly at the woman who easily leaned into him. That contact. That closeness. He'd forgone it most of his life. To have it in abundance now—it unsettled him pleasantly. "She drew me to an island, though most of her clothes were torn in our survival. Is there a tailor in this town?"

"Indeed there is," one said.

"But if the clothing will suit her," the other followed.

Rarity smiled and closed her eyes. "So long as they have excessive tools and material, dear sirs, then I should be able to finesse myself something suitable." She then looked down the bridge and the hub beyond it. "And should we meet again, perhaps I could craft an outfit for the times that armour comes off."

Rarity walked away from them with a wave of the hand, the three of them watching as she left, the sway of her hips and the way her legs struck forward after the other. Eyes were being drawn to the exposed woman. The dragon looked to the guards with an apologetic smile—before taking off after the girl.

What would await the duo on their trip to return to the castle?