Author's Note
There comes the time for me to introduce my very FIRST MLP STORY to you. And definitely NOT my last one for sure.
Hope you folks enjoy and welcome it into the wide, wide world of fictional ponies!
By the way: French is my native language, but English isn't. Watch out for potential writing mistakes, and feel free to report them to me.
What she meant...
Once upon a time in the wide, wide world of Equestria, there was a rule that everypony did their utmost to observe. Whenever Princess Celestria’s Sun rose successfully above the horizon, and from the moment its heart-warming rays would bring vivid colors to the grass at lunchtime, it would always be time for a picnic session with the ponies one cared for and loved.
Ponies. And Dragons too.
Such was the case on a lovely, sunny day in the meadows near Ponyville. Seven relatives had gathered to enjoy fresh drinks and delicious pastries. Six Element-baring pony friends for life, and their sleepy infant reptilian assistant, were relaxing under the sun with bellies getting full and great conversions yet to be had.
“It is once again gorgeous out!” Rarity commented with the brightest smile plastered all over her face. “Simply gorgeous! And we have Celestia to thank for such a blessing.”
“Ah can only agree with y’all!” Applejack confirmed. “A lovely sun we have fer sure.”
“And no big-meanie clouds to hide it!” Pinkie Pie celebrated with that high-pitched voice of hers. “That calls for a super-duper party in Cloudsdale for aaaaall the Pegasi who did a great job with today’s weather when we return!”
The other ponies nodded positively, holding back whatever words they had in mind to show their agreement regarding the loveliness of that seamless day, as there was nothing to be said or done but to enjoy the moment. Maybe a single “Yep!” or “Eeyup!” would have sufficed to describe their collective happiness, but a certain farm pony’s older brother had probably already patented the latter word, so they would remain silent and relish.
Until Rarity got hungry.
“Spikey-Wikey, would you please be a dear and bring me another sandwich?” she asked with a voice as dulcet as could be. “Spike, dear?”
Whenever somepony needed something delivered to them, even from a ridiculously-short distance, Twilight’s number one assistant was the one to call. Except when his duties as a handydragon conflicted with naptime. Spike had fallen asleep on the picnic blanket from organizing this entire outdoor trip nearly all by himself. He was to setting up such events what Pinkie Pie was to throwing parties: an unmatched expert. But his skill came at the cost of ad-lib sleepiness, and regularly missing on potential kisses from his crush as a reward for his services...
“A well-deserved rest for a hard-werkin’ dragon!” Applejack commanded in appreciation of Spike’s efforts that day, using her own hat as a blanket to cover his tiny body. “Ya earned it.”
No sandwich for Rarity, at least until the sophisticated mare with a fur color as white as her principles would risk getting grass dew all over her hooves – with no couch to faint on in case she got dirty.
“Yeah, looks like somepony’s gonna have to get up!” Rainbow Dash teased childishly, her own mouth still filled with the mouthful from the sandwich she had chosen to treat herself to instead.
The multicolored mare shared a laugh with Applejack, rapidly joined in their benevolent chuckles by Rarity herself, who would be quick to acknowledge how funny her situation was – the sandwich bag, one that apparently required Spike’s assistance, was as far away from Rarity as was Twilight’s book while she held and read it. Kind of absurd when you come to think of it. Rarity bravely got back on her hooves, trotted and went for the sandwich bag like a proper lady. She did not use her magic to levitate the sandwich to her lazily, determined as she was to demonstrate to her friends that she could still be the prettiest mare in the world while trotting gracefully.
Her enchanting gaze stroked the sleeping dragon from a distance, with nothing but the kind affection she felt for the hard-working sweetheart. Spike sure was a cutie for the fond eyes of anypony with a heart to feast on. And he was to thank again for a lovely spread. Enjoy your rest, darling.
A shiver of delight went down Spike’s spine, seemingly hearing through Rarity’s thoughts. It was like a dream… which sounded pretty much like reality. Spike wasn’t really asleep, not anymore. Six babbling ponies had proved too much for his somnolence, but the baby dragon did not feel like bothering to actually wake up. The longer he stayed in his curled-up position like the ‘poor little thing’ he was, the longer the pleasure of being mentioned by the older pony with ‘awww’-filled foalish voices that would make them sound like they were five again. Not that Spike would mind at all; being the cutest thing around to talk about never failed to leave him with a merry heart.
In the meantime, whatever leftovers had survived from the picnic set was promptly dealt with. Pinkie Pike used her hooves to ‘trip’ the remaining cookies from the plates, all the way up in the air thanks to the magic of Pinkie Gravity, only for these last survivors of an eating spree to fall to their demise down the pink pony’s throat. Deeleesh!
Whenever gobbling up sugary things was involved, Pinkie Pie was a ruthless warrior who took no prisoners. And neither did Twilight with the story she was reading, regardless of the content she had left to read until the end of the chapter: a couple of words or pages, she’d eat ‘em all in a matter of seconds.
Minutes of casual conversations and eating their fill flew by for the adult ponies, peaceful minutes of enjoyment. Until nostalgia kicked in.
“If mah memory’s right, an’ Ah know it is, this is the place where we found out ‘bout yer brother’s wedding, didn’t we Twilight?” Applejack recalled, a hoof resting against her chin, and sweet memories settling in her glinting eyes. “Ah jus’ can’t think of a better place ta be when this kinda news reaches mah ears!”
The bookworm pony’s nose rose up from an ocean of pages, attracted back to the real world by her orange-furred friend’s observation. Soon enough, a beam of merriness illuminated her youthful facial expression, her mind diving into the sweet memories of the past. The wedding of her beloved brother with Cadence in Canterlot had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Twilight said nothing particular, but her silent smile spoke volumes on her heart’s behalf.
“You are right!” Fluttershy said. “We were all here when Celestia’s letter reached us. I remember this day, and it was as beautiful as today!” she added, her delicate eyes instantly drawn to a happy flock of birds flying in the clear blue sky above them.
All her friends did the same, attracted to what made the world so stunning. They would never miss an opportunity to immerse themselves in the unspeakable beauty of the scenery around them, and to feel grateful for it. Their eyes drifted beyond the boundaries of the infinitely large, far away from one tiny detail that they all missed: one of Spike’s ears, quite a sneaky one, subtly rising and listening up.
“How’s he by the way?” Rainbow Dash asked. “It’s been a while since we last saw Shining Armor!”
Twilight smiled dreamily, as though she had just spaced out in Heaven, all the while looking like she was thinking back on the happiest parts of her life. “From what I’ve heard, he’s enjoying his new life in the Crystal Empire. And I’m so happy for him!”
She looked unusually blissful, in the happier than happy sense of the word.
“Anythin' ye’d mind sharin’ with us, Sugarcube?” Applejack asked teasingly. “That smile of yours makes me curious, Ah must say…”
The farm pony shared another chuckle with her blue Pegasus friend. Rainbow Dash soon joined her in her playful act, making as if to put on a pair of imaginary sunglasses to protect herself from the blinding light from Twilight’s teeth, whenever she would open her smiling mouth to answer.
“It’s just that… talking about Shiny takes me back to when I still lived in Canterlot, before I met you all, and… well, I’m just so glad I have you now, guys!” Twilight spoke from her heart, causing her friends to blush on the spot and mirror five copies of her delighted smile on their own faces. “It’s not that I was unhappy at that time, but it didn’t feel the same. Back when I only had my brother in my life, my only friend, I was a lonely pony who’d only find solace in her books and Princess Celestia’s teachings. And now that you are a part of my life, I feel so much more comple-“
“GROUP HUG!!” Pinkie Pie screamed.
And so, it happened. Six very best friends fondly hugging, kissing and cuddling the Element of Magic Bearer as they erupted into collective love, the same way they had a certain Sonic Rainboom maker upon learning how the six of them had earned their cutie marks.
However, not everypony was happy with Twilight’s statement. Every pony, yes. But not everypony. While the Mane 6’s hugging session extended for a further couple of minutes, a not-so-sleepy dragon’s ear went down in sudden sadness. Yet another missed detail.
Spike had heard enough, so he just fell back asleep, as if he had not been listening and overhearing anything at all in the first place.
Later that evening, back at Golden Oak Library, Spike had a lot to do. Chores, cleaning, tidying, cooking. Mumbling, muttering, grumbling, worrying. Many things to do indeed, almost as much as he had to think about. My only friend.
The thought came back to haunt him while he was dusting the bookshelves. Lots and lots of dust, so close to his sensitive eyes. Accidents could easily occur. In fact, it wasn’t really a thought. Rather it could qualify as a memory. Only hours ago, but it still burned down his stomach like he had eaten too much ice cream once again. His heart was on fire as well, but only for the wrong reasons.
Spike had been there the first time. A pony-only picnic session the baby dragon had initially not been invited to. Nevertheless, Spike still had managed to rush there right in time for him to regurgitate an urgent letter from Princess Celestia, down at Twilight’s feet. This message of the highest importance, originally intended to bring her great news, had mostly caused the unicorn to voice a deep feeling of resentment. Learning from a formal invitation that her brother, someone she had always been so close to, was getting married but hadn’t bothered to let her know first, had negatively affected her mood a great deal and made her feel dismissed. In explaining so, she had also admitted to accepting her brother as her only friend at the time, at least until the day her mentor sent her to Ponyville in order to learn about the unmatched importance of friendship, and to make new friends along the way. Pony friends.
Given Twilight’s anger and bitterness that day, far more legitimate a subject of preoccupation than anything else, the concerned dragon had only paid half his usual attention to what she had said about him not being considered a friend as well. But only hours ago, the same statement had been made again, unambiguously, without the shadow of a doubt. This time, Spike hadn’t found the strength to just downright forget about it. Not again.
His unicorn friend had made it clear. Spike had been no friend of hers for a long, long while. A feeling that hadn’t been mutual. Twilight had always been his friend from day zero. Friend… or maybe big sister? Mother? Manager? Boss? All of the above? The Tartarus if he knew! His relationship with Twilight was complicated to define, always had been and probably always would.
Why was he thinking about that right now? Probably because the aforesaid pony was around, closer than ever, right behind the overthinking Dragon’s back, looking to speak with him.
“Spike?”
From the top of the ladder he was standing on, wholly absorbed in his work, Spike eventually turned over to face a preoccupied Twilight, nearly falling in the process.
“Are you alright?” the lavender pony asked with genuine concern in her voice.
Her number one assistant clearly looked morose a bit, sad a bit more, a lot more distant and withdrawn – enough for Twilight to notice and start asking questions.
“Yes Twilight, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
He turned back to the books he had been wiping the dust off the second before, as though he had been trying to bond with them in his loneliness. No, to fuse with them as a mean to escape from unwanted attention, to become one with an object that was too small to hide behind, to turn himself into an unreadable sad story. The words he had just said were his first since his return from the meadows. They had not exchanged a single word since, and the more time passed, the more reclusive Spike was getting. This didn’t sound right.
“Are you… suuure you’re okay, Spike?”
“Yes.”
Spike wouldn’t say anything else, nor would he waste another second turning over a second time. Whatever his reasons to elude the obvious problem were however, Twilight wouldn’t just let him shut himself away any further. Especially if it meant that Spike would eventually share a stronger bond with books than Twilight had in her entire lifetime, only because they were covered in dust that her assistant would pretend to clean until she gave up trying to ask him what was wrong. No way this would happen! Instead, levitation was invoked.
The dragon felt himself losing his hold over the ladder, taken away from those poor, dusty books in front of him. Twilight appeared mildly annoyed by Spike’s refusal to talk to her, but certainly not as much as Spike himself was – deeply annoyed – by her act of non-consensually lifting him up in the air, and forcing him to come face to face with the lavender unicorn against his will.
“You know I can use my legs, right?” Spike said bitterly.
Twilight released him on his two feet. She would normally give him a sermon on the inadequate use of sarcasm, but her own worries won the upper hooves, and she let it slide.
“I had no choice, Spike.” Twilight defended herself with a disapproving gesture of the hoof. “And honestly, I really wouldn’t have needed to use my magic on you, had you just bothered to look at me when I speak to you!”
She trotted at a slow pace toward the dragon, intending to deescalate the tension between them by rubbing a hoof against Spike’s chin, but what came out of his mouth froze her still.
“And what if I didn’t want to talk to you?”
The statement struck her hard. She blinked in a mix of confusion and disarray from the sudden hostility. Clearly taken aback and unsure about what to say next, the unicorn frowned with dissatisfaction, instantly feeling remorseful about it as this would only add fuel to the fire.
“Listen Spike, I see that you’re angry, and I don’t like seeing you like this. I know something’s wrong and I only want to help, so please talk to me. I’m your friend!”
Spike’s reaction was nowhere near what Twilight had expected: he crossed his arms angrily, his face crumpling and his eyes turning as cold as Yakyakistan-imported ice.
“Are you sure about that?” he spat accusingly.
A nervy hoof rose to Twilight’s eyes to force them close, the absurdity in Spike’s charges against her own friendship claims causing her to shake her head more dismissively.
“Why, of course I am!” she replied nervously. “Did you ever have a doubt?”
Spike pointed a shaky finger at himself, aiming for the wounded heart beneath his chest. “Then what was I to you before you came to Ponyville? You only had one friend, and it was your brother.”
Then nothing, but silence.
Twilight found herself at a loss for words, for lack of anything to say. Instead, the identical words she had already pronounced twice, both in a distant and recent past, took the stage in her mind, her brain cells working round the clock to help her process what they meant. Realizing how hurtful they had been to Spike made her feel like her heart had just been pierced by an arrow of sadness. The guilt-ridden pony was unable to either give a proper reply or to hold Spike back, as the dragon was now taking his leave and walking at a furious full speed toward the door. Twilight would soon be on her own before her heart skipped another dreadful, lamenting beat from the emotional turmoil the mortified unicorn was bound for.
However, Spike came to a stop just as quickly. Hearing the noise from his footsteps fading to nothingness, Twilight slowly turned over with vain hopes of resuming talks resurfacing. Now she was the one wishing Spike had his own magic to use on her to speed up the process of facing him and force her to talk, as she couldn’t bring herself to explain why in Equestria she had been saying that about her brother to begin with, what is more, in Spike’s presence. Both times.
Upon setting her eyes on him again, a big surprise set on a collision course met with her: Spike looked equally guilty. A saddened, self-loathing sentiment was painted all over his face. The dragon felt stupid, if not totally immature, for giving in to his own anger like a little filly throwing a tantrum. He was scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. This was nothing like the way he would usually picture himself in his mind. If not a temperamental individual with affection issues, Spike was just an uncomfortable infant, unhappy with what and who he was, ashamed of himself, and who wouldn’t admit it.
“You know what?” he spoke again in a cryptic tone, making the unicorn fear the worse for a second. “Forget what I just said. It was rude of me to… to tell you that. Sayin’ it that way, I mean...” he added hesitantly, each word coming out with the hope that it would not further harm the one pony he would forever consider his closest friend, no matter what. “It doesn’t mean that what you said about your life in Canterlot didn’t hurt me, but… I still know better than overreacting and being a jerk to you. I’m worth better than that, and yelling at you the way I did was just me being a resentful and ungrateful crybaby whose jealousy got the best of him all over again. I’m sorry, Twilight.”
There was silence and awkwardness again, so Spike went on with his apology, fidgeting apprehensively and clearing his throat until his speech sounded free of any remaining bitterness.
“And I never should have spied on you girls while pretending to sleep. I’m… really sorry, Twi.”
And he was done. Or maybe not…
“I guess…” he started. “I should get you something to eat. It’s getting late and I owe you that.”
A timid, perfunctory smile laboriously made its way across his face, but it was devoid of his usual boastful confidence, one that would have turned any smile of his into a proud grin, whenever the chance to do Twilight a favor showed up. On this barely lighter note, he left for the kitchen.
Twilight looked on as Spike disappeared behind the door, and a pitiful attempt to prevent a tear from falling backfired spectacularly. She sobbed silently, many tears streaming down instead of one. It only lasted a couple of seconds, and her eyes were already wiped clean and dry when the lavender pony pulled herself together. I will have to talk to him about it again when he… when he…
When Spike would make her dinner and bring it to her. He, Spike, the dragon who doubtlessly saw her as his best friend, who never shied away from saying it, who always prided himself on showing it, who went to great lengths to make sure she remembered it… and whose line of thought would make him behave like a servant to an offended owner. Spike had upset Twilight, and his only way of properly apologizing for his behavior, and earning back her trust… was to cook for her. And more generally speaking, to carry out any housework that would satisfy Twilight and make her life easier. The work of an assistant, period.
Was that how a true friend was supposed to behave in order to make amend? To fix a mistake?
Twilight couldn’t help but wonder what was the worst between two very different, yet both extremely unfunny facts: Spike’s slightly immature outburst due to hurt feelings…
…or that fact that Twilight had tactlessly brought up the subject of her past relationship with her brother, making poor choices of words in doing so, unkind words, with little regard to Spike’s feelings and sensitivity on the matter, without actually being aware of how tactless and unkind these words were, with Spike standing (or sleeping) right beside her, and with the equally-tactless conviction that the dragon with underestimated senses would not hear a thing?
The analysis of this blatant diplomatic failure left her stranded with a forlorn mood, a heavy rock in her chest that not even Maud would write a poem about, and a suppressed appetite.
When Spike entered Twilight’s working room, she was in a state of deeper sadness than the last time they had talked. She was facing the starless night that had long settled outside, staring blankly at the darkened window beyond her spellbook-reading desk. Her level of weariness and tiredness could compare to a huge hangover from being invited to three Pinkie Pie parties in a row. Had Rarity been cursed with the vision of such an unkempt pony, she’d have required a couch covering another couch to pass out on them. Twice.
Spike put the well-furnished meal tray on a nearby table, and turned to his friend. His attempts to look at her in the eyes failed. More than twice.
As he prepared to leave without a word, failure winning over his heart, a familiar voice called.
“Wait.”
This time, the shamefaced dragon dared cast a shifty, evasive glance in Twilight’s direction. He caught a quick sight of a hoof motioning him to move forward, and the other tapping on Twilight’s bent legs. The lavender pony was seated with her body holding itself upright, her rump pressed against the seat of her chair and her legs dangling down, in the way of that one special aquamarine harp player from Ponyville with a weird obsession for imaginary bipedal fanfiction writers. Was Twilight a secret Lyra admirer? No, but she definitely needed a suitable position that would prove comfortable enough for Spike to sit on her lap.
An explicit invitation that the nervous dragon accepted, despite initial reluctance.
He walked forward timidly, aiming for a pony whose true intentions he had yet to figure out. For a brief moment, he could swear he had seen Twilight’s horn glowing up with magic in a blink of the eye, then felt his feet briefly coming off the ground as a direct consequence. And he would have been right to point it out, as it had been Twilight’s initial decision to help her unwilling assistant reach her faster, until a booster shot of Fluttershy wisdom interrupted her with a quick reminder that forcing things wasn’t always the best option.
Baby steps, everypony. Baby steps, she had once said.
Which was literally Spike’s case. Twilight’s horn wouldn’t glow again.
“I promise not to force you to come to me with my magic, if you don’t want to.” she said with a sad smile. “I won’t even force you at all, if you’re not ready to talk. And if it can help you, I’m not going to scold you.”
This did little to reassure him, as Spike had expected a reprimand that would have been legit in his opinion. Now, what was on Twilight’s mind? Was she blaming herself, hinting that Spike had indivertibly triggered an earthquake of guilt in her heart? He’d dread such an outcome.
Spike eventually made it a few inches away from Twilight’s legs. Now that he had obeyed, the little dragon with apprehensive thoughts expected Twilight to levitate him to his seating position as usual. Much to his surprise, she opted for the old-fashioned way and simply picked him up. Despite him previously implying that he did not like unannounced levitation, Twilight’s change of method to lift him up still caught him off-guard. Old habits die hard…
Once seated on the welcoming laps, Spike plucked up his courage to look at Twilight straight in the eyes. The lavender unicorn looked back, and what she glimpsed, deep into the dragon’s adorable pistachio eyes, was the perfect duplicate of his scared expression from opening King Sombra’s enchanted door in the Crystal Empire. Spike’s greatest fear, being permanently sent away by the one he loved the most, was making a misguided comeback to torment him.
That, Twilight would not allow in the slightest. She patted his head.
“Spike…” she started with much hesitation. “I want you to know that you have nothing to feel bad or guilty about. If what I said about Shining Armor being my only friend really hurt you, then you had every right to feel that way. This really wasn’t nice of me, even less respectful, and…” she stumbled over her words for a while. “And you deserved better, Spike.”
She stroked his harlequin spikes, which were pointed at her. Nothing to do with a potential implicit gestural accusation, but Spike couldn’t just hear her out without levering his head in shame, thus causing his spikes to push forward.
“It’s alright, Twilight…” he muttered sadly. “I think I overreacted a little, to be honest. I knew you didn’t mean it that way, but... I don’t know, Twi. It just hurt me, and I can’t figure out why.”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to say that, Spike! Not that way!” Twilight insisted, more indignantly. “You’ve been by my side since the day I hatched you. We’ve grown so close ever since, to the point that you became my number one assistant. If Shining Armor was my only friend in Canterlot, then what does it make you? No Spike, that was truly mean of me. What I truly meant…” she searched for more words, the right ones. “…is that the kind of relationship I had with Shiny was one of a kind. He was the only pony who could understand me, and with whom I could enjoy the bonds that friends usually share, while you Spike… you were just a baby. The bonds between you and me were just as strong, but they were not the same. Do you understand that, Spike?”
The dragon nodded. He still looked down and glum, but it was clear the meaning of Twilight’s latest words would not fall on deaf ears, and made perfect sense to her favorite baby dragon. As a matter of fact, Spike had his own enthusiastic argument in store to minimize Twilight’s mistake for the sake of their friendship, all the while exaggerating the fault in his reaction to it. Regardless of how compelling this argument would have been, it was instantly vaporized to pieces by what Twilight had to say next.
“You know Spike…” she stated, cutting herself halfway through the end of her sentence, then resuming with a different approach. “There actually is a reason why I, somehow, said that. And… let’s face the truth, Spike: for as far as I can remember, I never really could consider you an actual friend. I never could, and I still can’t today.”
Spike’s ears suddenly perked up in absolute anguish. What was that supposed to mean?
An ironic, nervous chuckle evaded his mouth, with little regard to his mute processing of Twilight’s statement, as he hoped with all his might that it was either a bad-timed joke, or a cliffhanger to the eye-opening, jaw-dropping revelation of this century.
“I’m not sure this is the best way to reassure m-”
Twilight placed a hoof over his mouth. She had seen right through his anxious attempt to take her words as a comedic display of her sharp sense of humor, and she was quick to defuse his worries and correct herself. Starting with an unexpected smile that startled Spike.
“I don’t consider you a friend, because you’ve always been more than that, Spike.”
And with that died the words the dragon had tried to force through Twilight’s hoof. Enough for him to catch his breath. “Twi…” he mumbled, his jolty eyes going up and down. “I don’t understand…”
Twilight smiled again. “Let’s just say that our relationship has always been… kind of complex, to say the least.” she admitted. “From the very first day you came into my life, I’ve struggled to figure out how I was supposed to take proper care of you. In fact, if I were to be as honest as can be, I should start by saying that I never knew how to take care of you. I was lost, Spike. Despite all my best intentions, I have repeatedly failed to figure out what kind of relations we were supposed to have, and how and what I was supposed to treat you like. I mean…”
She paused, gasping for air. What she had to say came from the heart and her breathing was put to a hard test. That she’d pass it with an honorable mention like any other test.
“I was so young the day you were born. Thank Celestia, I was not alone. The Princess was here for me, just like my parents and my brother had before her. We were like one big family, in the heart of which the roles each one of us was supposed to play… were quite confusing. They’d always change and evolve. One day, Princess Celestia could be a mother to me. The next day, she was my mentor, my teacher, my Princess, even my boss… or my friend. Her place in my life changed all the time, and so did yours. Celestia helped raise and educate you, just like she did me, but she never was a true mother figure, neither to me nor to you. And as for me, I was far too young to truly take care of you like I now wish I had. Sometimes I did, when my studies would not take up all of my free time. When it was not the case, I had no choice but to delegate those tasks to the royal castle staff, or to Celestia herself.”
She had elaborately highlighted the word ‘tasks’ in such a way as to emphasize the importance these tasks had meant to her, and still did up to this day. However, with a mind as fragile and sensitive as Spike’s, even the best of intentions could be twisted into a bad misunderstanding – it’d only take a wrong interpretation to change a meaningful upbringing experience into a burden.
Therefore, she moved on with her explanations right away. Spike stood quiet and attentive to her speech, as if it had been nothing but the purest, most expensive bread of gems in verbal form.
“Because of all this confusion, I could hardly find out what kind of pony I was supposed to be. Who I was… to you, and who you were to me. Besides, of course, being my most cherished treasure I could always count on!” she said with strong emotions in her unstable voice. “In the end, once you had grown out of babyhood, and turned old enough for you to have your own opinions about us, we reached a kind of mutual agreement that you would become my assistant. My number one assistant. For life!” she added proudly, stroking Spike’s head again more tenderly.
The dragon smiled softly, letting out a squeak of surprise. His eyes shut themselves from the sudden tenderness, and not only because they had an abrupt surge of humid matter to deal with and block from randomly exploding out of their sockets.
“Still, you were just an assistant.” Twilight added, lowering her own head in self-disappointment. “Not from a decision you made willingly, but mostly because destiny was pushing me in another direction. I was Princess Celestia’s favorite, and most faithful student in magic. I had many great things to accomplish in my life as a future princess, so many that I forgot about the greatest of them all: you!” she stated with a hoof connecting to Spike’s belly like an umbilical cord desperately trying to go backward.
Spike’s lips started to tremble. So did Twilight’s. Two pairs of shiny eyes, so brilliant they could reflect a lifetime of unconditional love, stared intensely into each other with raving goodness.
“Since I was your only family, you didn’t really have a choice but to follow me on the path life was taking me on. The ambiguity in our relationship only grew stronger since. You became a friend to me, and a little brother, and an assistant. One day, I’d put you to sleep, singing a song. But the very next day, I’d make you work to exhaustion with little regard for your efforts, as I was far too absorbed by my stupid books. Then I’d scold you like I was in the right to treat you like the mother I never was, or tell you to stop fooling around, as if I hadn’t been a fool myself to play this thoughtless hide-and-seek game of affection with you all along!”
It was it this moment Spike knew… he wouldn’t be able to make out Twilight’s figure anymore. For his vision had turned all blurry and steamy. Twilight wouldn’t fare much better; she was losing her eyesight to blurriness.
“In all honesty, Spike…” Twilight said as she extended her arms toward Spike, like she was now possessed by the Element of Honesty. “I regret the day I hatched that egg, because…”
Spike was now on the verge of needing CPR. All it would take was Twilight admitting to never having wanted to bring him to this world in the first place.
“…because I wish it happened many years later.” Twilight confessed, wiping her eyes but failing to dry them. “That way, I’d have been ready, I’d have had the proper age and maturity to do the most important thing ever, what you needed the most: raising you myself.”
“But…” Spike suddenly spoke with a broken voice. “I’d have been a deadweight to y-”
Twilight picked him up, bringing their respective noses a tiny baby dragon finger’s width away from each other. The heat from their eyes radiated on each other’s soon-to-be-wet cheeks.
“No Spike!” she objected with an overbearing certainty that called for no answer. “You’d have been my zest for life, my joie de vivre!” she claimed with a fancy French accent very similar to Rarity’s, only worsening Spike’s emotional state. “You’d have been my reason to be, my… my most beautiful accomplishment in life. Ever! But I couldn’t give you that, and you’re still paying the price for my failure today. I’m… so sorry Spike!”
Spike couldn’t hold it anymore and burst into warm tears.
“Aw, Spike!”
And so did Twilight when she hugged the crying little dragon against her chest, as hard and affectionately as one could, with a special care not to cross the border into suffocation territory.
“You’d have deserved it so much, Spike!” she cried out. “I’m sorry for failing to tell you that any sooner, and the fact that you felt abandoned because of my statement about Shiny and I only proves that you needed this reminder. You deserve better, Spike. Reminding me of that, no matter how rude you may have sounded, does not make you a jealous crybaby.”
Spike cried twice as loud, releasing his bottled-up feelings all at once, and clutched Twilight around the waist with a clasp three times its initial intensity. Twilight returned the favor, and their tearful embrace went wordless for a holy moment of pain-releasing catharsis. No more talking required; all was already said being done. Their healthy sobs stood out as the only exception to their mutism. Twilight hugged the little dragon like his delicate life depended on how hard she squeezed him. She blamed herself for not buying that rocking chair Granny Smith was trying to get rid of lately, as it would have proved its worth in a single evening.
Only after a long while, which had felt as eternal as Princess Celestia’s full reign, did Twilight decide to break the silence while the baby dragon was still bawling his eyes out.
“One thing is sure, Spike: I’m very, very proud of you. Of who you are, of who you’re becoming. Proud and happy to have you in my life. Not only as a friend, but as everything else that matters just as much. I love you, Spike. As a big sister, as a friend… as a mother. I want to be all of it to you. And from now on, we’ll decide what role we want to play that best fit our needs, together, one day at a time, but always seven days a week. Because you need and deserve to enjoy them all in your beautiful life. And I swear to Celestia that you will.”
Twilight almost made the mistake of Pinkie-promising, but refrained from doing so at the last minute. Otherwise, they might have been disturbed in their sorrowful moment by the inexplicable, thundering entrance of her pink friend inside the room, who would have bent the laws of physics just to erupt right next to their ears without warning, and yelled an out-of-this-world ‘And you better keep that promise!’ like she always did in this situation.
Instead, Twilight went back to crying for another session, knowing full well that the promise would be kept anyway, until both their hearts ran dry and their mouths went soundless. She then invoked her last remaining strengths to the rescue, levitating a handkerchief to help wipe the sorrow off both their soaked faces. Too bad her food was getting cold, but it didn’t matter; the emotion-filled unicorn would satisfy herself with eating her fill’s worth of love, feasting on a hug to her heart’s content, and for as long as Spike’s affection could last. She replaced the tear-drenched piece of fabric with a second one, and another one, until when, finally, the skin of their cheeks no longer shone like polished diamonds.
Spiked rubbed his tired eyes and rested against Twilight’s warm belly – his only tested-and-approved bed in the whole damn world of Equestria that would forever deserve to be rated a perfect grade.
The chair wasn’t that comfortable, but it posed no real threat when the pony using it was exhausted from her own emotions. And soon after Spike had fallen fast asleep to the lullaby of her heartbeats, a yawning Twilight followed suit and escaped to a dreamy world of her own.
Once upon a time in the wide, wide world of Equestria, each problem had a solution. All it took to solve most, if not any problem, was a bit of sunshine, a picnic set and good feelings.
“Gorgeous yet again!” Rarity rejoiced, clapping her hooves in appreciation of Celestia’s work. “I should get out and enjoy these outdoor lunches more often.” she acknowledged more humbly.
The snow-white pony was sitting in the spot she had occupied a couple of days beforehand. Same magnificent landscape, same perfect weather, and same sandwich. This time though, Rarity’s pretty and immaculate hooves remained clean enough for Spike’s smile to reflect in it, as her favorite little Spikey-poo had taken it upon himself to give the sandwich to her personally. Just like he had for everypony else. No impromptu naps to put the blame on. Proper sleep in a loving mother’s embrace, for days and days, had worked miracles on his spirits.
The picnic planner was now fit for duty until a late check-out time at night, without being called back into Princess Luna’s arms every now and then.
“Thank you, Spike!” Twilight told him after he offered her a special homemade Hayburger sandwich, earning the happy dragon a thankful head rub in return, for the sixth time.
Spike beamed with pride. He bowed ceremoniously.
“You’re most welcome. It was a real pleasure, Mum-… I mean TWILIGHT!”
Everybody stood silent, slowly turning to them with confused, and equally-inquisitive eyes. Even Rarity, who risked a major fashion incident when a drop of sauce from her sandwich, frozen inches away from her gaping mouth, nearly leaked over her spotless coat.
Had they all heard what they had all heard?
The frown that took shape above Twilight’s half-closed eyes sent worries as emergency emissaries to their fast-beating hearts. Spike was now bolting upright, swallowing hard and shoving his hands into his blushing face. The lavender unicorn waved a sneering hoof.
“Spike!” she sermonized him with fake irritation in her voice, doing nothing to hide a growing grin of delight. “What did I tell you about calling me that while working as my assistant?”
The playfulness in the way she spoke forced an impish, yet deliciously-innocent smile over Spike’s face, stretching from ear to ear, as he struggled to repress a loud chuckle. Soon realizing what was truly going on, the captivated members of their VIP audience giggled at their own surprise.
“Oops!” Spike murmured mischievously, scratching the bad of his head. “Sorry, Twilight.”
“This is the third time today, Spike. This calls for an appropriate punishment! Let’s see…” Twilight rubbed her chin, her grin widening. “Yeah, this should do it.”
Spike swallowed again, in a weirdly-boastful way that screamed ‘come and get me!’
“Come here!” Twilight happily shouted.
She ran after her giggling assistant for a while, and successfully caught him again, pouncing on the cheerful dragon, pinning him to the ground, and mercilessly tickling him until he burst into laughter. But she would not stop, even after achieving her goal. Never, ever. For there were too many boxes on Twilight’s ‘make Spike happy’ checklist; the possibilities were endless.
This lovely display of pure cuteness quickly whipped the small committee of friends into a frenzy of joy. While most soon gave in to moderate chuckles of relief, Rarity discreetly stepped closer. Twilight and Spike broke off their game and looked deep into her perplexed eyes, still as two rocks Maud would totally write a poetry collection about, like they had been turned to stone for the crime of illegal adorableness. Rarity stared blankly for a second, peering down at them…
The next second, she was cracking her hoofs casually, her devilish smile soon finding an ally in Twilight’s own soaring grin, who was quick to approve of her decision to join in with a knowing nod of the head. The ticklish infant dragon’s alertness rose to stratospheric levels not even a Rainboom could reach. His eyes opened wide, before suddenly being snapped tightly shut when a wave of tingles gratified each scale of his body with the most hilarious sensation ever.
Under a combined four-hoofed attack from the two ponies he loved the most, Spike was decisively defeated.
For a moment as short as a snap of a dragon’s finger, Rainbow Dash looked down on them – Rarity-styled condescendence – with a skeptical, slightly judgmental glare on each side of his nose, as though her two friends’ childish antics had had just earned them a star on the Applewood Hall of Lame. Until…
“GROUP TICKLES!” Pinkie Pie declared excitedly, dragging everypony along in her fall to the ground, as though she had held a master’s degree in bringing people together.
With glinting shades of red on their cheeks and a deafening thunder of laughter, they all shared a moment of passionate tenderness. Applejack and Rainbow Dash became the most fervent enjoyers of this game. They were Running-of-the-leaving again, racing at each other’s most sensitive body parts, bent on determining who tickled the hardest and would come out as the champion.
“You’re a mighty good tickler, but I’m just better!” both claimed at the same time, between two fits of laughter. “Hey, that’s MY line!”
The other ponies were now laughing at them more than from tickling each other, but the fun remained the same for the history books to record.
“Now, who’s my best number-one assistant?” Twilight asked after they calmed down, bending down to kiss Spike on the forehead.
A fully-flushing, breathless baby dragon rose a finger. “It’s… me!”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you!” Rarity said impishly, scratching his tummy.
Spike laughed at his own tactics to get attention being used against him.
“IIIIIT’S SPIKE!” everypony joyfully recited like it was the lesson of the day.
“Now, come ooon!” Spike pretended to dismiss them.
He wouldn’t need to add that they ‘embarrassed him’ and to ‘stop it’. Not even to ask them to take turn in praising him. For he didn’t need to do so anymore. Of love and affection, his life was made. Why would he ever ask for more?
Time went by smoothly. The ponies enjoyed a lengthy afternoon under the sun. They talked, ate, joked, laughed and called Spike Cutesy-wootsy a thousand times. Not that he would object.
Rainbow Dash had a meditative thought for Scootaloo, pondering how in a near future, whenever his adopted little sister would feel down for whatever reason, it would be a great idea to tickle and hug the sadness out of her. Great idea, indeed. Rarity and Applejack shared similar thoughtful visions of comforting family love, when the beloved pictures of their own little sisters visited their minds. Even Angel the bunny and Maud were given the same treatment, though neither Pinkie Pie nor Fluttershy were totally sure it would be worth the try…
Soon enough, a familiar habit returned. Tired from working himself to the bone as a busy assistant, and from playing as a son, Spike’s eyes proved more and more difficult to keep open. He walked toward an empty part of the picnic blanket to take a nap on his own, but a pair of hoofs dragged him back into his real bed. Twilight’s arms.
“I’m not done hugging you…” she whispered into his ears. “…to sleep.”
If ASMR existed in Equestria, a record of Twilight’s voice would be the first to become viral.
“Thanks, Twi.” were Spike’s last words before another wonderful dream began. “I love you, mom.”
And in a matter of seconds, the baby dragon was gone. “Sleep well, sweetheart. I love you. I always will.”
THE END.
