Spike's Mirror

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 6
Chapter 5

Chapter 1

The night, the moon and a bit of solitude; that was all one little dragon needed for a perfect evening. Lost in thought, staring out of a window at the Ponyville library into the night sky, he dreamt of love and unicorns. Or more accurately, of one unicorn in particular. Our little dragon had fallen madly in love with Rarity, the town's couturière / fashion expert / model. He had tried time and time again to get closer to her, to get himself noticed by her, hoping for a remark or a kind word, and, why not, sweet foolishness, a sign of something more intimate than just the simple friendship they shared. And this evening, after dozens of fruitless ploys and schemes, Spike simply couldn't think of anything else to get closer to Rarity.

Not that he hadn't tried everything: poems, flowers, drawings, cakes. Whenever he could, he went over to lend her a helping claw. He never ran out of compliments for her newest creations, he always found an excuse to drop by Rarity's boutique and share a chat or drop off a parcel — sometimes multiple times a day. Whenever she was around, he would watch his language. He had tried a number of come-on techniques he had read about in some library books, had sometimes worn ridiculous clothes just to appear en vogue.

Simply put, Spike was positive that he had tried everything imaginable -- but all those little signs of affection should have put him on her map by now, shouldn't they?

He lost his sleep agonising over this, which led to him staying up very late in the evening; he pretended to go to bed at the same time that Twilight did, then got up without a sound to watch the stars and the moon. How, for the sake of all dragonkind, could he succeed at seducing Rarity? Why didn't she notice him? Was he that pathetic? All these questions swirled around in his head more and more often, growing more pressing after every new setback in his quest for Rarity's heart.

"Maybe", he murmured, "I should just give up and try to forget her. If we're still just friends, even after all this time — there's no reason that's gonna change one day. How could a unicorn so beautiful and talented fall for a poor little dragon like me?"

That night, Spike slept very poorly. His dreams all revolved around the object of his desires, but he never actually managed to reach it. Consequently, he awoke very early, with a slight headache and a case of the blues severe enough to depress even Pinkie Pie. However, he didn't actually feel tired; he soon got used to small bursts of agitated sleep during shorter and shorter nights. Occasionally, he would just rest under the blanket without thinking or doing anything, simply waiting for the time to pass. His prized moments of rest and peace grew rarer and rarer. It was then only grudgingly that Spike got out of his basket to prepare some breakfast.

Twilight awoke from the smell of fresh toast. She'd gone to bed very late the night before, reading a riveting textbook on magic. As she lightly trotted over to the kitchen niche, she saw her assistant, a chef's hat atop his spike rim, just finishing up a tray.

"Hey, Spike!"
- "Hey Twilight. Up already? I was just making you some bedside breakfast..."
- "I can see that", she said, admiring her assistant's work. "So what did I do to deserve all this special attention?"
- "Umm, well... nothing special, really, I just wanted to ... well ..." said Spike and lightly scratched the backside of his head.
- "Oh Spike, that's so nice of you!" said Twilight and sat down at the table.
- "I don't know how you do it, Spike, but your cooking skills really get better and better every day. You gotta practise a lot, don't you?"
- "Umm, not really, that stuff just comes naturally after a while", Spike said, blushing slightly.

What he didn't mention was that he had indeed spent a lot of time practising cooking in secret, but with the one goal of impressing Rarity with his culinary creations; he wanted them to be as sophisticated as possible to be worthy of the couturière's own chic and glamour. But then again, his cooking skills so far hadn't had the desired effect on her.

"So what's the plan for today, Twilight?"
- "We still have to go over teleportation charms, I'll need your help for that. Oh, and I also have to drop by Rarity's place to get the seams reinforced on one of my dresses. Aaand I need to read two or three tomes on magic variations. How about you?"
- "Oh, not much, really, just a bit of shopping to do in town, and some tidying up here at the library... d'you want me to take care of your dress while I'm on my way?"
- "Oh Spike, you'd never miss a chance to visit Rarity, admit it already", Twilight chuckled.
- "It's just to... uh... do you a favour, that's it, to do you a favour and let you stay here and study without interruption", stammered Spike, blushing again.
Twilight responded by raising one of her eyebrows as high as it would go. She obviously wasn't buying it in the slightest; after all, Spike had proclaimed his crush on Rarity the instant the two had met. And what was more, it wasn't particularly hard to notice Spike's infatuation if you knew which signs to look for — or when you lived and worked with him. In addition, she was always at the forefront when it came to aiding the dragon in one of his numerous seduction schemes.

After breakfast, they both went to go about their respective tasks. Spike didn't make it to the couturière until early in the afternoon.

"Hi, Rarity", he said and opened the store door, which set off a small bell jingling wildly.

"Just a second, I will be right with you", answered a voice from the store's back.

Spike used the waiting time to look around him. He'd been to the boutique so often that he immediately noticed every little change. Here a ribbon that had been moved; there a role of misplaced fabric. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed that: keeping things tidy and in order was already very difficult for Twilight, but for every other pony, things like that could quickly become an absolute nightmare. Especially if you had an enthusiastic little filly for a sister that was hellbent on helping you, even though you had important orders to fulfil.

"Here I am, I'm all yours", said Rarity and emerged from the back room. "Oh, it's you, Spike! Are you coming to visit me again?"
"Uhh, yeah, I just had this robe to bring you from Twilight. It needs a bit of restitching", said Spike and blushed lightly.
"Hah, let me have a look."

Rarity spread the robe on her worktable and got to work. Spike watched her wide-eyed; he had trouble staying unaffected so close to her. To avoid coming off as all too weird, he started to pace up and down the boutique floor.

"Spike, darling, could you please stop making the rounds like that? You’re giving me a headache!"
"Oh, umm, sorry. It's just that I don't like watching you do all the work while I can’t help."
"If it's just that, hold this for a minute while I try and save Twilight's poor dress..."
"... it's that bad?"
"I have no idea how she does it, but she managed to ruin this beautiful piece..."
"But not as beautiful as yours are, right?"
"Are you trying to make me blush?"
"Oh, no, not at all..."

Normally, Spike always managed to come up with something to change tracks and gently steer the conversation towards a different subject, preferably one that would engage Rarity. But now, nothing, null, nada came to mind. So he contented himself with watching the unicorn work, his heart beating furiously in his chest.

"Say... can I help you with something? Anything?"
"O shank u, its ow shide."
"Pardon?"
Rarity dropped the piece of fabric she had held in her mouth.
"I was saying: No, thank you, it's alright."
"Ahh, okay."
"You know, Spike, I'll have to invest quite a bit of work in this robe here. That's going to take me some time. Why don't you go do something else to pass it, instead of boring yourself here?"
"But I never get bored with you around, you know."
Immediately, Spike bit down on his lower lip as he realised the blunder. Luckily, he was spared from having to come up with an explanation, since Rarity was bursting with laughter.
"Oh come on, Spike, stop saying that just to be nice! You're going to making me blush again. Come on now, hush hush, you can come back to pick up the dress in the evening, right?"
"Yes, but ..."
"Tutututu, no 'buts', save yourself quick", she said and pushed Spike towards the exit, hoof against snout.

Spike desperately searched for a good reason to stay, but couldn't think of one. And so, head hanging, he resignedly headed back towards the library, to see if he couldn't find anything else to do.

"... need ... talk ... Spike."

He pricked his ears. What kind of conversation would mention his name? He noticed that one of the boutique's windows stood ajar, and carefully approached.

"But Twilight, why did you want to talk to me about Spike?"

To be continued...

Thank you to Schmarshall for his translation
This is a translation from the French original “Le miroir de Spike” by Saldana. If you know French, check it out!

Chapter 2

"But Twilight, why did you want to talk to me about Spike?"

The question made Spike freeze, now hidden just under the slightly ajar window. He didn't see anything, but could clearly understand everything that was said inside the boutique. Yes, why did Twilight want to talk about him? Especially seeing as he had gone to visit Rarity precisely so that Twilight could stay at the library and keep studying. He pricked his ears, both worried and intensely curious.

"Well, you spend a lot of time together. He often comes over to help you at the boutique or with your gem-collecting. Whenever he's got a bit of free time, he'll come over to your place sooner rather than later.”
"It's true, if you put it like that, you're asking me a legitimate question..."
"So... what do you think about Spike?"
"That's what I would call a bit vague, would you not, dear?"
"I'm asking you for your opinion, that’s not really all that vague, you know. You two have spent so much time together that you're bound to have some kind of idea about who he is."
"A baby dragon", Rarity spouted.
"Excuse me?"
"You're asking me who Spike is, and I answer 'a baby dragon'."
"Oh Rarity", said Twilight and put a hoof in front of her face. "Stop trying to weasel like that, please."
"Darling, a Lady needs to know how to gently circumvent a delicate topic with grace and finesse."
"Delicate?"
Twilight raised an eyebrow, and Rarity quickly put a hoof in front of her mouth. Oops! She shouldn't just have blurted out that word. All the while Spike was still listening from under the window; his heart was beating at a more frantic rhythm the longer the silence continued, twisting his fingers in impatience and frustration.
"But why would it be delicate to talk about Spike, with a friend? Do you have something to hide?"
"That's ... a little complicated."
"How so?"
"You said it. He spends so much time helping me, as though he were my official assistant and no longer yours. It's almost as if I ... had taken him from you, so talking about him is a bit ..."
"Uh huh. How about you answer frankly and stop beating around the bush."
"But if it’s about his spending too much time with me, I can tell him to cut down some, he could come back to you and ..."
"Rarity", Twilight sighed.
"While I was waiting, I've finished repairing your dress, darling, it's wasn't that bad after all."
"Oh, thank you for your quick work..."
"It's always a pleasure to do a good friend a favour."
"... but don't you think that'll make me forget our little talk."
"But do tell, Twilight, how does my opinion of Spike concern you?"
"He's my assistant, but also a real friend. I've known him for so long that he's almost like the little brother I never had. I love him very much, and I don't want anything bad to happen to him."
"And how could whatever opinion I have of him bring about anything 'bad'?"

All the while, it was becoming more and more difficult for Spike to contain his impatience as the two ponies kept beating around the bush. Couldn't girls ever say what they really meant, did they always have to go around it in endless circles?

"Rarity, Rarity, Rarity, do you really not understand? Or are you trying to hide something from me?"
"And just what am I supposed to understand now?"
"That's enough, this little game starts to get on my nerves. Spike spends all this time with you, he keeps doing you favours without ever asking anything in return, he indulges your every whim whenever you need a bit of help, he's researching pony fashion trends — wouldn't all of that remove the scales from your eyes?"
"Well..."
"He's doing all of that for you, just for you, I know what he's expecting in return, but you apparently don't see that, so I've come to ask you straight-out what you think about Spike."

The couturière lowered her head and scratched lightly behind her ears.

"It's complicated..."
"But what, what could be complicated about my question whatsoever?"
"The fact that... he's a dragon."
...
"Hmm?"
"I'm not blind, my dear, of course I’ve noticed all of those things you just mentioned perfectly on my own."
"Hmm?"
"A Lady needs to know how to observe her entourage."
"Ha?"
"But of course. You ask me what I think of Spike? He's friendly, courteous, with a heart of gold. He knows how to be funny, but you can always count on him if there's any trouble, he's dependable and very ... subservient ... I mean ... cooperative."
"If that's so, then what's the problem?"
"Well... a lady needs to keep her feelings to herself when it comes to her admirers, especially if they are members of her circle of close friends."
"Excuse me?", Twilight replied blankly.
"Oh absolutely, I'm telling you, my dear, meeting me has removed the scales from Spike's eyes, me that I exercise with grace and distinction the marvellous profession of the couturière. All these things you just mentioned, they can be traced to his desire of learning and learning more about it, about fashion and haute couture, directly from the very best teacher in Ponyville, which is me. That is why he keeps seeking out my company, he has a thirst for knowledge and wants to understand the fashion world. He, too, desires to know the chic, the glamour of the high society, he wants to join me in my quest for this ideal! This idea has set his little dragon heart aflame, I am sure of it! And all of that thanks to me — not that I want to flatter myself.”

Twilight's pupils, which had widened as Rarity spoke and were now the size of saucers, suddenly returned to their normal size.

"I'm not sure if I got you right there ..."
"To sum it up, my dear, Spike has embarked on a marvellous crusade, the crusade of fashion and haute couture...."
"And everything he's done for you..."
"...was just an expression of his motivation and his desire to keep learning about it. The enthusiasm of youth and a lack of experience, if you want."
"Uh huh..."

If Rarity's explanations had apparently left Twilight dumbstruck, they had literally struck down Spike. So all his efforts, all the energy he'd invested to get noticed, all these moments spent together, all that left him with a Rarity who was completely mistaken about his intentions? The little dragon was in a state of shock. He tried to once again follow the conversation between the two ponies, maybe he had just misheard and there was still hope...

"...the fact that he's a dragon complicates things?"
"But my dear, because they absolutely do not have the same ideas as we do when it comes to fashion. As a pony, I can perfectly imagine myself in every single one of my creations in this boutique, but he would never be able to do that. And being unable to put yourself in the place of the client completely throws off the work of the couturier, however competent and motivated he may be. Even if he has a boundless imagination, his creativity would forcibly be spotty, or incomplete."
"And you told Spike that?"
"I refuse to break his heart and shatter his dreams just like that, Twilight, that would be truly cruel on my part."
"More cruel than leaving him hoping for something that’ll never come to pass?"
"I don't know, that’s what I find so complicated between us. With time, he will realise that, I hope. If he was just in love with my person, I would know what to say, I have already had my share of admirers, but we are talking about a vocation here..."
"And it has never crossed your mind that maybe Spike simply was in love with you?"
"Oh come on, my dear, I would have noticed if this little dragon had fallen under the charm of my magnificent person..."
"But then again, everything he does..."
"A dragon, in love with a unicorn? Maybe an appropriate sujet for a romantic novel, but we don't live in a book or a fairy tale, if that were so I would have been able to meet HIM for so long!"
"Him? Oh. Him..."
"The prince himself!", said Rarity, her eyes full with stars.
"Uh huh."
"But I know it, one day I will meet him, and then —"

Slowly, as though in a state of shock, Spike got up and started to walk away from the damn window. So Rarity thought there was no chance he'd be in love with her. He had given so much, had hoped so much, but all that had just been thrown overboard. He could never be anything more to Rarity than a friend, whether he was passionate about fashion or not. Why, oh why? Amongst his circle of close friends, only Rarity seemed to be blindfolded when it came to his crush on her. If he had been able to take a step back, he'd surely have realised how strange it was that, in this kind of stories, the person you were in love with was always the only one who didn't notice anything, while everyone else was perfectly aware.

Completely out of touch with a reality that now seemed so drab and hopeless, he aimlessly roamed the streets and surroundings of Ponyville for hours. What was he supposed to do now, faced with the futility of his efforts and a goal now definitely out of his reach? Spike tried to understand where things had started to get out of hand, what he had done wrong to bring about this desolate situation. But however diligently he mulled over his actions, no response occured to him. He didn't have any idea whatsoever.

As he kept brooding and brooding, he found his head enclosed in a thick fog. He marched on aimlessly, listlessly, all energy drained from him, all motivation lost. Without knowing how he did it, however, his odyssey ended when he found himself in front of the library's door.

"Oh, what‘s it good for”, he sighed as he walked over the threshold, "everything I could try wouldn't help. She's a unicorn, she's in love with another unicorn, what could be more normal than that? If it’s her dream to get closer to him, then what am I supposed to do, me, a poor little baby dragon? If only I were a unicorn, too, then maybe she would..."

To be continued...

Thank you to Schmarshall for his translation
This is a translation from the French original “Le miroir de Spike” by Saldana. If you know French, check it out!

Chapter 3

Spike had entrenched himself in the library and spent the rest of the week classifying and sorting books and parchments. He went about this work in an almost robotic manner, like a machine that had been assigned a repetitive task not requiring any thinking. He felt as though he was on the inside of a sweetly soft cocoon, in a familiar environment which he could control perfectly; every nagging thought was banned from his mind without any further reflection. Even though a tiny voice inside of him tried to make him understand that all he did was postpone the inevitable, archiving and classifying manuscripts chased this weak glimmer of reality from his thoughts. No longer did he have to pretend or hide anything; he was now at home and was allowed to be himself, his mind and body protected from an outside world which from now on seemed hostile and dark, like the night without a moon, without light...

And yet, he couldn't completely sever ties with the outside world, since the library wasn't limited to his and Twilight's usage; a handful of ponies came by every day to check out or bring back this or that book or parchment. Spike presented a neutral face and curt phrases to these visitors, contenting himself with giving them the information they wanted and writing down who had borrowed which books on the list, without ever showing any kind of emotion. To him, it felt as though all of these tasks weren't actually performed by himself; he sometimes wondered if he wasn't more of a spectator rather than an actor in his own life.

His short moments of reflection seemed to him so sad, so hopeless, that he hastened to return to his snug cocoon, where he didn't have to feel anything and could finally find a moment of peace from the thunderstorm that were his thoughts. The work was his drug; only when he was asleep did his control slip. He soon started to try and avoid sleep, going to bed later and later, staying awake even though he was in a state of fatigue urgently requiring of deep slumber, without any dreams or images in his mind to assail and torment him.

And so Spike, who was both completely disconnected from reality and yet so sensitively attuned to its manifestations, who was both machine and a living being, lost multiple days. Whenever his friends asked for any news, he would respond with banalities. He came up with numerous excuses for his loss of energy and motivation, making use of a wide spectrum of reasons that usually were completely far-fetched. Day by day, he performed his tasks in a stoic fashion, eagerly anticipating the afternoon so that he could return to hole up in his cozy cavern, doing just what was absolutely necessary so that nopony would ask any questions.

This illusion of normality and well-being worked easily enough on most ponies, but it was much more difficult to deceive his close friends. They were not content with a vague response or a banal explanation; they could tell that there was something more going on inside of him. Everypony was worried, but they were at a loss when it came to understanding Spike's attitude. He smiled at their antics, didn't reject a meal or a walk, but all of that without his usual sense of presence, without the aura that until now had accompanied the little dragon.

Twilight, of course, worried the most; she hadn't ever seen Spike in this state before. And yet paradoxically, she had the greatest difficulties in addressing the subject with him. She had known him so well that she simply had no idea what to make of this new Spike, who had become a mere spectre in a body that was still perfectly alive. She tried to make him talk as often as possible, but every time, she bumped into a wall of words; and though they were reasonable, they lacked any soul. The other ponies of the gang tried to elicit a response from Spike, too, but without any success, in spite of their repeated efforts. Finally, they decided to try and live on as they had before, hoping that might inspire Spike to open up by himself and not under the force of his friends. In a way, they gave up in light of a situation that was utterly incomprehensible to them; they simply didn't know what else to do, even though everypony kept providing Spike little favours whenever the situation called for it.

This situation, which was making everypony uncomfortable, lingered on; days turned into weeks. Spike's attitude changed barely or not at all, and the other ponies gradually grew tired of it. He had taken on the habit of lonelily walking the streets of Ponyville in the night; simple contemplation was no longer enough for him, he wanted to try out something new. Sleep bored him as much as his daywork, and even though nopony said anything, he was still observant enough to notice how ponies passing him in the streets exchanged slightly embarrassed looks.

However, the calm and the silence of the night offered him a welcome moment of serenity, a break from his fatiguing internal conflicts. And so he roamed the empty streets, savoured the silence in places that usually were crowded and noisy at headache-inducing levels. Nopony was there to look at him, to judge him, to question him; it was just him and the night, in a tête-à-tête that soon was as natural to Spike as hairspray was to Rarity.

His walks gave him a fantastic feeling of wellness, a different kind of cocoon, this one out in the open air. His lassitude seemed to be appeased just by the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other; the simple pleasures of breathing the fresh air and walking freely in a different environment were energising and invigorating, just as his desire to lock himself up and shut out all reality had made him listless and feeble.

That evening, his steps led him to surroundings of the Carrousel Boutique. A window was illuminated; it was proof that Rarity, just like him, was still awake. In a way, that thought depressed Spike even more; the object of his desires was acting just like him, all the while mercilessly trampling on his feelings for her. The more Spike thought about that, the stronger his sense of incomprehension grew, which was why he usually tried to keep away from Rarity as far as possible. It struck him as rather odd that apparently nopony amongst his friends had made the connection between this distance and his rapid loss of energy.

"Oh, just why do girls have to be so complicated?" Spike sighed. "You indulge their every whim, you do them favours, you do everything to be nice, and then, in the end, they take your feelings to hurl them into a bottomless abyss, and you right with them if they could, I'm sure of it."

He felt his inner struggles resurface; so he preferred to get back to walking, to avoid having to confront them now and distract himself. But he didn't stop talking to himself, in complete contrast with the usual Spike, who just answered with curt phrases whenever somepony asked him something.

"Why must everything always take a turn for the worst? It's true! In romantic stories, everything ends well, even in those moments of doubt there are always signs that encourage you to go on; you don't find yourself all alone in midst of a desert like a piece of thrown-off ballast, with nothing to help you. So how come that everything goes wrong for me? Why won't my friends understand me, why is Rarity that blind on my subject, why does whatever I try only complicate things? I don't know, I must have done something terrible in a previous life to be punished like this in this one. Oh, shoot! I'm talking to myself while I can hardly speak three words with Twilight, and none with Rarity. I can't be normal. Something must have gone off the deep end with me, or maybe it's a birth defect, I don't know, and of course, nopony around anywhere to show me a way to get all this mess in order."

As he was talking, his steps had carried him to the park. He picked a bank hidden under the shadows of nearby trees, intending to savour the night for a little longer. He sat down with a deep sigh of relief, looking forward to these moments of absolute peace of mind.

Crack.

The sound of a snapped twig roused Spike from his trance. He wasn't the only one around, and this thought alone was enough to make him panic. In the blink of an eye, all his demons resurfaced at the prospect of meeting somepony at this moment, afraid of having to justify anything, whatever it may be.

Crack.

The same sound, but closer than the one before; the intruder was getting closer. Coming to, Spike jumped off the bank and crawled under a nearby bush to hide himself. Just don't make a sound. Stay hidden, then go back to the library quickly, just don't take any risks.

CRACK.

This time, the sound was very close to him. But at that very instant, the moon was obscured by clouds, making the night too dark to make out anything.

"Psst."

Without a doubt, the new arrival was a pony and not an errant animal, as Spike had hoped; that only added to his fear. He was stuck and couldn't just slip away now; he should have taken to his heels immediately. Now, he held his breath and tried his best to discern the darkness in front of him, to find the position of the intruder.

"I'm here", a voice murmured.

Spike, who was already as stiff as a statue, felt his body harden even more. It wasn't just one, but two ponies who were present; the voice he had just heard was different from the first.

"Couldn't you have tried and be a bit less noisy?" the second voice went on.

"That's easy to say for you."

"And what an idea to do that in public."

"You know full well that we need to stay discreet."

"Yes, but I'm sorry for thinking that a park isn't really that discreet of a meeting place."

"Oh, stop complaining, just for a bit."

"Or what?"

From where he was, Spike could clearly understand the two ponies, but was unable to attach a name to either voice. As far as distinguishing their silhouettes went, the shadow of the trees hid them almost perfectly, even though the moonlight had returned.

"Or I will — do that."

"Ha! Oh..."

"Hehe, works every time."

"You traitor."

The pony giggled lightly, to the embarrassment of her conversational partner.

"Okay, so maybe you could tell me why exactly you wanted to see me tonight?"

"Do I need a reason for wanting to see you?"

"Well, we've been seeing each other all day, if you remember."

"You know exactly what I mean, pony girl."

"Yeah, yeah, and if I don't?"

"Nothing, I just felt like spending a bit of time with you. It's been tough getting a bit of alone time for us these past days without all these ponies around."

"Oh, so it's nothing serious. That's reassuring."

"Why, you'd rather we not see each other when there's nothing bad happening?"

"No, that's not what I mean, it's just that —"

"Yeah?"

"You know, every time we meet we risk being — well, you know what I mean... and it's annoying, a bit scary, even, since..."

"Hah, I had no idea that you could be afraid of anything other than a dragon."

"No silly, you know full well what I'm trying to say."

"Oh come on, come on, don't you worry or I'll be all worried for you."

In his hiding place, Spike could no longer hold still. Apparently, he wasn't the only one with problems in this town, and he needed to hear about theirs. Accordingly, his curiosity was piqued, and he wanted to know more about it. His boundless imagination tried to come up with reasons for the silence that had just fallen between the two ponies.

"Okay, calmed down?"

"Yes", the pony giggled slightly.

"You surprise me more from day to day, you know."

"You too."

"When I think of it now, it's really incredible, the sort of stuff that keeps happening to us."

"Well... if you say so."

"Tssss, you still don't dare talking freely, admit it."

"That's who I am, I don't feel comfortable... well, you see."

"You know, I'd never judge you. You should let go a little when..."

"Yes, but our story seems so... not weird but... a bit unnatural."

"There's nothing more natural than the feelings one pony has for another. So stop racking your brains over that."

"..."

"And you know, there's been stranger relationships... take Spike, for example, that poor dragon with a crush on Rarity... a pony-dragon relationship, doesn't that strike you as odd?"

"Not really, even though Spike's a dragon, he's still a boy, and Rarity's a girl, while we... well..."

"Hah, don't worry about that. We're very discreet, but I think our friends wouldn't ever take issue with the fact that we're both ..."

"You see, even you can't say it straight-out."

As the two ponies continued their rendezvous, Spike made use of a big cloud passing in front of the moon to emerge from his hiding place and discretely, but swiftly, slip away. He was more running than walking up to the library, impatient to gain shelter. Only after the door was firmly closed behind him did he catch his breath. After he had poured himself a glass of water, he curled up next to a window and started to think about what he had heard tonight, while watching the stars. So he wasn't the only one in Ponyville suffering from problems of the heart? In a way, that was reassuring; he wasn't some kind of alien who had accidentally crashed in this world of ponies. But seen from another side, it was hard to be optimistic as he realised that the ponies also suffered from relationship problems. So for a creature from another species, it was practically like trying to get blood from a stone.

One sentence stuck in his head: "A pony-dragon relationship, doesn't that strike you as odd?"

The longer he thought about it, he had to admit that his story wasn't exactly trivial. Normally, you fell in love with people of your own nature; the thought of a cat loving a horse seemed squarely ridiculous. Maybe the problem didn’t lie with Rarity, but with him?

Little by little, an idea had started to form in his mind. This idea was so incredible that he had at first taken it as some kind of bad joke his brain was pulling on him. But the more he thought about it, the more the jigsaw pieces seemed to fall into place. Rarity dreamed of marrying Princess Celestia’s nephew, who was a unicorn. She herself had said that she understood ponies better than dragons. If he could become a unicorn, he stood a chance of Rarity noticing him, of her no longer seeing him as no more than a fashion crusader, an assistant or a simple dragon, but as a pony in love with her beauty. Birds of a feather flock together. He was sure that becoming a unicorn stallion would help him be loved by Rarity.

Becoming a unicorn to attract Rarity’s attention was extremely tempting... and impossible. Even though Spike was starting to delude himself into this idea, he still realised that changing your species was impossible. If that wasn’t the case, then why were all the inhabitants of this world ponies? Changing your species, that was a tantalising idea, but also a dangerous one -- didn’t it mean giving up who you really were in exchange for nothing but an altered appearance? The slavery of looks and reputation, and what was more, Rarity’s lofty aspirations absolutely didn’t go with the idea of frequenting a... a what? A monster, a freak, a fool? A demented person incapable of adapting to reality? A weakling, a good-for-nothing who went to pathetic lengths just to please a lady?

All that swirled around in Spike’s head, which was already rather used to these kinds of thoughts. Only that now, he now longer saw nothing but black; no, he was once more engaged in his quest for getting Rarity to like him, and that was new. His project resembled an enormous chimera, the consequences could be devastating, but still -- the desire to at least try it got to Spike more and more. At this point, why shouldn’t he simply try -- just try -- and check if a method existed to realise this project? He had nothing to lose and everything to win.

This newfound energy kept him from sleeping too long, and so he awoke early in the morning, surprising Twilight, who wasn’t used to him emerging from his bed until much later in the day.

“Oh Spike, you’re awake? I thought you’d be sleeping longer, sorry, I haven’t made breakfast for two...”

“No problem, I’m on it”, the dragon said. Twilight was both dumbfounded and overjoyed to find “her” old Spike was back.

“And what gives us the honour of an appearance so early in the morning?”

“Nothing special, I just wanted to do some research today, and I thought that it’d be easier to start in the morning. So I’d have more time.”

“What kind of research? Want some help?”

“No thanks, nothing important. Not worth the trouble.”

“Okay. Well, anyway, I have to go help Fluttershy. Seems like she needs my magic to help her solve a problem. And I think it’s time that I go or I’ll be late. So, Spike, have a good day!”

He responded with an arm gesture, his mouth busy with breaking down his breakfast into mush.

Having the library all to himself suited him perfectly; this way, neither Twilight or whoever else would know about his completely whacked-out idea. Once saturated, the dishes done, he directed his steps towards the library shelves, determined to finally find the solution to all his problems.

To be continued...

Chapter 4

Come on, just a bit further.... almost there... bucking book, stop sliding.... ah, just a bit....

"BLAM."

"Yeouwch!"

Spread-eagled on the floor, Spike stared at the ceiling, massaging the back of his head. That was all part of the job description of the librarian, he thought: having to find a book that had been filed in the very top row of the shelves wasn't always all fun and games, especially with tiny little arms like his. On the upside, his thick scales dampened his falls somewhat. Had Twilight been here, the ground had been covered in a soft mattress of half-open books; but she was out.

And so he went on for several hours. The library was his battlefield, he thought, where he confronted the intricacies of librarian nomenclature; his former allies had become fierce enemies. He faced mountains of information without the slightest hint to distinguish the helpful from the useless. He had spent so much time neatly putting books back in their place, but now, he struggled with a disordered horde spread arbitrarily over multiple shelf rows; and he didn't have enough time to examine them properly.

The search wore on him. Spike had given up his fastidious habits and left small piles of books left and right; every minute counted, losing time sorting books was out of the question.

Groaning, Spike got up on his feet. He hurried to open the book, skimming the index, indistinctly murmuring phrases he found. Title for title, cover summary for cover summary, he checked tome after tome, without unearthing any kind of result. His goal seemed more and more out of reach, his plan inappropriate.

"Well", he'd said to himself a few hours earlier, "if I were something that could transform a dragon into a pony... what I would I be? A potion? An artefact, a magic formula? An ancient rite, an initiatory journey, an epic quest? An occult practice... or black magic? A food? A plant? A drink? Well, whatever you are, you can't hide from me forever!"

And with that bold announcement, Spike threw a defiant glare at the shelves towering overhead.

But he could talk all he wanted; the baby dragon grew more and more tired and discouraged. False leads piled on and ground on his nerves more and more; in the spur of a moment, he sent his book flying towards one of the piles, where it landed perfectly as if to taunt the dragon.

"Ah, watch it!", Spike sighed and vaguely raised an arm.

With hanging shoulders and an empty stare, he slowly walked over to a seat and let himself fall down, giving a deep sigh.

"Oh well. I've been looking for hours, and not even the slightest shadow of a solid lead has turned up so far. All I've managed to do is heap on books everywhere. Pitiful, really, as though somebody had known what I was looking for and hid it on purpose. Hay, I gotta be the most pathetic dragon in the history of Equestria."

Spike let himself sink a bit further into the cushions.

"I must've overlooked something, there's no other possibility. I've skimmed hundreds of books without finding anything; I must've made some kind of mistake. Right now, all I've found are ways to change your appearance for a few minutes, or temporarily gain new powers. But nothing on permanent transformation... well, then again, it kinda makes sense. I need to transform myself into a pony... knowing how to do that isn't really a priority for a pony in a world full of ponies."

That touched upon one of the points of his plan that were the most bothersome to Spike. Turning into a pony to seduce Rarity would mean to say goodbye to Spike the dragon; and whether he wanted to or not, at his core, he would always be a dragon, a gem-muncher, a fire-spitter; later, the guardian of fabulous treasures, a magical, mythical creature of giant proportions and incredibly physical power, to be tamed only by an irritated Fluttershy ... How would his friends react when he abandoned his identity all of a sudden?

"Cause if I turn into a pony, just to attract Rarity's attention... they'll probably just pity me for being that desperate. They'll never really understand... and if they ended up hating me, despising me for going through this? No, no, no, I don't want to end up all alone... but on the other hand, to stay a dragon... that would mean to give up on Rarity. Do I deserve that? She's got her dreams, maybe I should just stay on the sidelines and be happy with what she gives me..."

Bitter, Spike got up and started to pick up the piles of books on the floor, to put them back into their place. But he didn't stop talking to himself; he didn't care that he could be overheard, he exteriorised what he couldn't say to anypony else, and that was a relief. In any care, he said to himself, who would want do understand the murmurs of a little dragon all alone in this big library?

"Falling in love with a unicorn, that was the best thing I've ever done in my life. Hard to find a female dragon in a world full of ponies. But that I want to become a pony myself... something must've gone wrong in my earlier life. Then again, if anyone's worthy of going through all that, it's her... argh, if she doesn't see anything more than a friend in me when I'm a dragon, how would it be if I was a pony? Maybe just a fool, a freak. Or would she be impressed enough to throw herself into my arms? I mean, hooves? Ahhh, that's just not realistic, Spike... that's not gonna happen..."

Spike' monologue was disrupted when he heard the library's door open.

Spiiiike? I'm back!"
"Ah, hey Twilight. Back already?"
"Yes. I'm sorry for being so late, but Fluttershy insisted that I stay for lunch to thank me. And you? Making progress?"
"Oh yeah, making progress. I was just shifting things a bit around, to see which book is where, you know", Spike said with an overly large smile on his face to hide his embarrassment.
"Oh well, that sounds alright."
"Yeah."
"You've had lunch already?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah. I've grabbed something quick."
"Great..."
Without really knowing how it had happened, the atmosphere between them grw heavy and neither really knew what to say next.
"I'm going to... continue my studies on growth magic. I'll be on the balcony, if you need me."
"Ha, okay, good luck... I'm gonna clear up this mess."
"Alright."

Once Twilight was out of sight, Spike leaned on a shelf and gave a deep sigh of relief. He had almost been caught red-handed. The fear that Twilight might discover his plan resurfaced: how would she react if she knew? Would she help him, or would she chase him from the library? One thing was certain: even if he had all afternoon, he needed to be more careful about his research, to avoid raising any suspicions on Twilight's part. With this resolution and a fresh breath of air, he got back to work.

Night had already fallen when Spike laid his claws on what would be the last book of the day. Twilight was out this evening, invited by the other ponies to one of Pinkie Pie's fabulous parties, which allowed him to stay up as long as he wanted to for his search — that however was soon, since he felt rather tired. He had almost no hope left that he would actually find a valuable response, and continued his search more out of stubbornness than real desire. The book that he held between his claws was dusty and damaged, visibly not a spring chicken. Spike blew gently on the cover, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air that had him coughing for minutes on end. He had to restrain himself to keep the book from going up in an emerald-green flame. Only after his coughing subsided was he able to read the book's title:

The Twenty-Five Concoctions of Equestria

As usual, he started leafing through the book, looking for an index or any kind of hint that would be useful for his search. Despite his deep sense of fatigue the day had brought to him, one chapter's title caught his eye. Intrigued, he headed towards a desk, sat down and started reading the lead-in to chapter seventeen, which was titled The Mirrors of Visions.

The Mirrors of Visions are the two artefacts left behind by Lady Emerald Dream after her passing. The first, which is called the Solar Mirror, offers all-encompassing knowledge to its user. Since its creator, who was one of the most powerful unicorns of the time, had succeeded through an as of now unknown process to install in this mirror all the knowledge present in Equestria, a simple gaze allows access to every possible piece of information; this mirror is capable of recognising its user's needs, and will then immediately deliver the most appropriate responses.

The second mirror is called the Lunar Mirror. Its stated goal is to help its user understand themselves. It provides him who stares into it the elements that are essential to his quest for his true self. Stories are told of foals and fillies, unable to obtain their cutie marks in spite of numerous and pointless quests for it, who have used the mirror and had their destiny revealed to them. This mirror is often used by ponies who face difficult choices they are unable to make themselves.

Reference is made to a third mirror amongst the notes that Lady Emerald Dream left behind after her death. This mirror, which is very different from the other two, supposedly has for its purpose to allow his user to transform himself completely; to become another pony or even any fantastical creature desired. Thus, a pony can become a bird, an earth mare a pegasus, an old person young again and full of life. However, the lack of details on the whereabouts of this artefact or the way it supposedly functions suggests that it is a mere contrivance on the part of Lady Emerald, who was already very old, fancying herself using this mirror to reverse the flow of time and escape her looming fate.

These mirrors have been left to the Canterlot Archives so that their trace never be lost and may be found by all future generations who might need them.

Spike's claws trembled as he looked at the text ecstatically, his eyes wide open. For the first time, he was laying eyes on something with promise. After all these disappointments, a light of hope had been kindled inside of him, however meagre this lead might seem.

It was late, and Spike felt drowsiness weighing down his shoulders; he decided to continue the next day with a closer examination of this work. He kept the precious book hidden under his basket's pillows, so that he could be sure he would find it in the morning.

As he did every night, he dreamt of conquering Rarity's heart, who ended up falling into his arms in a romantic scene worthy of the greatest poets of Equestria. But he had another dream; in this one, he was a pony, astonishing his friends with his beauty and stateliness; melting the hearts of all the mares in town, and most of all, most of all the one that belonged to the girl he was in love with.

And so, when he awoke, you could almost see the stars sparkling in his eyes; he was swimming in a sea of happiness and confidence, and nothing seemed capable of spoiling this day. He noted that Twilight was still asleep, so he gulped down a quick breakfast and got back to work. He started by re-reading those lines that made his heart jump with joy. Soon, he was doing a veritable historian's job as he gathered multiple sources from different authors and epochs. He now knew that Lady Emerald Dream had been one of the most powerful unicorns of her time, and yet still suffered from numerous complexes during her life.

Spike saw in that proof that the third mirror had to exist; he wasn't the only one who longed to change his appearance, and unicorns were the only ones who could create these magical artefacts of transformation. He wasn't gushing with new optimism with every new clue; now that he knew where and what to look for, he was steadily coming closer to fulfilling his dream.

But two problems remained.

First of all, even if Lady Emerald did have the reasons and the power to create this notorious third mirror, no other material proof confirmed its existence; the handful of notes only confirmed that she had entertained the thought of it.

Secondly, supposing this artefact did exist, where could it be hidden? This unicorn had lived a long time ago, and if the two other mirrors were still kept at Celestia's archives in Canterlot, what could have happened to the third mirror? His research had confirmed that this lady was the owner of a wide array of magical objects, hailing from all sorts of places, and all her belongings had been scattered after her death. So if this mirror had been part of this collection, chances were slim he would be able to find it.

These thoughts occupied Spike intensely, so that he heard neither Twilight waking up nor her calls for him. Twilight was confused; she went to her friends asking for advice, in hopes that somepony might explain to her the comportment of dragons: one day completely depressed, the next unrelentingly enthusiastic, behaving like a bull facing a red rag. Twilight couldn't keep up with that; she avoided the library during the day so she wouldn't have to rub shoulders with Spike. That suited the little dragon perfectly, who now had all day for his investigations without having to go to any lengths to obscure their nature.

Around afternoon, he let himself drop into an armchair, exhausted, but excited.

The possibility of a third mirror had gone from very unlikely to highly probable; that was what he had garnered from the mass of texts he'd studied since this morning. Even if he still didn't have any definite proof, the numerous, unequivocal clues were apparent. As opposed to its mid-sized cousins, the Mirror of Transformation was supposedly of a smaller size, a pocket model equipped with a lid and covered in fine silver embroideries. It was only his suspicion, but Spike was confident that this description was accurate; he had pulled it from a document describing the tastes and preferences of Lady Emerald Dream.

If Spike was from now on more certain about the existence of this artefact, finding it was a much more difficult prospect. The fact that it had never been identified suggested his owner had either lost it or used it in an inappropriate manner, which kept the mirror from expressing its true potential. He kept mulling over the facts in his mind, but he didn't find the red line that would led him to the third mirror. The only solution he could think of was to go to Canterlot in person, to search the Princess's archives. But to go to Canterlot, he would need a believable reason that wouldn't arouse the other ponies' curiosity. This problem stayed with him for a number of weeks.

It was once again Twilight who helped him. She wanted to visit her parents in Canterlot and naturally took along her little assistant, to the latter's great satisfaction. Yes, he might have little time for his investigations, but that was better than nothing. And so, barely had they arrived and exchanged the necessary civilities with her parents, he ran off towards the palace, his heart in his mouth.

The archives were open to the public, so entering wasn't a problem. What was more, this time, he could ask the librarians who worked there for advice. And so he found a number of very interesting manuscripts very quickly, but still no trace of the third mirror's position. Despite this newfound goldmine of information, despite the growing collection of proofs, the great unknown continued to stay hidden. However, when he laid claws on a detailed list of the objects the Princess had found after Lady Emerald Dream's death, he was now certain that the artefact wasn't to be found in the palace's treasure coves.

And so, a rather depressed Spike emerged from the archive building. He had exhausted all resources available to him and still did not see how to continue his researches. The Canterlot Library? What else could he have learned there, he had already found so much in the tiny library of Ponyville; he didn't need more clues, he needed proofs. But how to find those proofs, and where and when, remained a mystery to which no book would provide an answer. Wait a minute, he thought. The mirror was an ancient object... and whose speciality are ancient objects? An antiquarian's! And where if not here in Canterlot do you find the biggest concentration of antiquarians in all Equestria?

Spike got more and more excited. Twilight had told him that they would leave Canterlot the following morning, which still left him with a couple of free hours. So he went looking for thrift stores and antiquarian boutiques, quickly finding a great number of them in a quarter next to the archive building. He started asking every storeowner, explored every stock, licked every vitrine. However, despite his best efforts, the night had already fallen when he made it to the last store in the quarter, without a doubt his last chance before he would have to return to Ponyville empty-clawed. It was then an anxious and exhausted little dragon who opened the door to the store, whose large sign read: LEWIS ANTIQUITIES.

"Good evening..."
"Good evening to you, son", a round-bellied pony answered. He had a moustache and slowly greying hair. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for something. A mirror. It would be small, the kind you keep in your pocket, or attached to a chain."
"A mirror? I have two or three of those that might fit the bill. Why don't you wait while I go look for them."
The antiquarian disappeared into the store's back room; the sounds suggested he was shifting things around to find what he wanted. He reappeared and put a small wooden box on the counter.
"I'm afraid that in this box are all the mirrors that correspond do your wishes, Sir."
"Better than nothing", Spike sighed.
The old pony opened the box and presented a small mirror with a silver frame to Spike. The frame was embossed with fine ornaments. Spike examined it for a moment, then put it back and shook his head.
"Very nice, but not what I'm looking for."
"I also have this one", the salesman said and handed Spike another mirror, this one with a lid; it was made of bronze and had two pegasus wings engraved on either side.
Spike shook his head resignedly.
"And then, the last one in my possession."

This third mirror was marginally larger than the others; it also had a lid. There was a small a ring through which you could pull a chain, so that you could wear it around your neck. His heart missing a beat, Spike began examining it from all sides.

And finally, he saw it: the tiny engraving of an intertwined E and D overlapping an emerald. Lady Emerald Dream's signature. There could be no doubt. He finally held it in his claws, this third mirror that had been tantalising him for weeks.

The deal was closed quickly. Spike paid a modest price; this kind of product wasn't exactly in high demand by the antiquarian's usual clients. On his way back through the street, he started to shiver with excitement, to the point where he had to sit down a bench, take in a deep breath, and try and calm the rhythm of his heart which was beating at the pace of a sewing machine.

He could hardly believe it. Finally, his quest was over, he had gained possession of this coveted object. So many times had he dreamt, had he idealised time and time again the moment where he would call it his own, and now, he had simply bought it at a thrift store. Not exactly the most epic or heroic quest, he thought.

Nothing too evil to defeat, no fabulous adventures to recount, no great challenge that pushed you to your physical and mental limits... just a bit of library research and an even bigger stroke of luck that had led him to this old antiquarian. All that bothered Spike enormously, who still couldn't believe he finally had the mirror. Was this just another dream, this one even more twisted than the others? He constantly slipped his claws into his pocket to touch the artefact, to convince himself that it had all been real.

The lack of a heroic conclusion frustrated him, he doubted that he had really earned this object. This thoroughly banal and rapid resolution of his quest was bothersome to him; he realised that he had spent as much time being depressed as he had actively searched for the mirror, and the biggest part of his work had been of the librarian kind... useful, but not all that glorious in a world full of magic.

Spike couldn't help but feel a bit thrown off. However, little by little, he came to the conclusion that what he was done was a feat that nopony before him had accomplished; the mirror had been lost until now. What was more, he felt himself slowly emerging from his deep depression. That had been an epical enough quest for him; and he realised that he deserved this artefact, after all he had been through. At the end of the day, he was the only one to judge himself; the only one who kept lancing these contrived accusations and reproaches against himself. He cheered up a little. He was the new owner of this mirror, it belonged to him and him only.

Spike proudly sat up on the bench, puffing his chest. His doubts had vanished, his reproaches were forgotten, and he had had once more found his pride. At peace with himself, he knew there was a new challenge waiting for him: Her name was Rarity.

Chapter 6

The sun began its course towards its zenith, already casting a soft, reddish light over the tranquil Ponyville, whose inhabitants were still fast asleep for the most part. That, however, was not true for Spike, who in spite of his new pony form still retained the instinct of rising early; a trait he had learnt during all those years with Twilight and which had allowed him to complete most of his daily chores before the pony even awoke. He had decided to prepare a tray for a bedside breakfast, making use of all his cooking expertise to give everything that little extra dash of taste. That had been more problematic than foreseen: the new Spike still had difficulties using pony-made tools with his hoof, resulting in a number of dangerous manoeuvres. Only after several failed attempts that had almost led to the destruction of several plates did he manage to put the garnish on and finish his work to his palate’s satisfaction.

Content, he tasted his opus one last time before taking it into his hoofs and walking towards the bedroom. Spike tried to cause as little noise as possible as he passed through stretches that were ridiculously overfilled with jetsam and flotsam, and therefore a danger to his balance. He reached his destination and gently pushed the door open to enter.
Here began his true challenge: he needed to approach the nightstand soundlessly — which meant avoiding all objects scattered all over the floor in a room that was already very dark, thanks to the heavy, closed curtains by the window.

He remained a couple of minutes in the doorframe to adjust his eyes to the feeble light; then he moved on, still very slowly and carefully. His efforts paid off when, all plates still whole, he reached the nightstand, which he gently cleared to make place for his tray.

He straightened up and wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead, pleased with the success of his first mission. He strode over to the curtains and parted them slightly; a narrow beam of sunlight shone through and brightened the room somewhat. He wanted the pony’s waking to be as perfect as it could be. On cat’s paws he approached the bed, intending to rouse the pony that lay there from her sleep, not without a small twinge in his heart when he saw the beauty in front of him: a mare plunged in the depths of an undisturbed slumber, her face calm and sweet, surrounded by an angel's halo of stray streaks of hair.

Spike remained a few minutes in almost religious contemplation, barely capable of accepting that this beautiful painting was real and not just some personal fantasy. Unfortunately, he had to put an end to it; he gently touched his muse’s shoulder, whispering her name into her ear. As she slowly opened her eyes, still not fully there, he decided to offer her his most beautiful smile, so that her day would begin the best way possib —

Rarity gave a start several metres high before emitting a shriek powerful enough to blast a unicorn’s horn off. As she fell back towards the bed, she involuntarily treated Spike to a right-cheek strike with her hoof, sending him flying towards the ground. Barely back on his feet, she seized her blanket and hurled it towards the purple pony, before rolling over to the bed’s other side. Still screaming, she started to use her horn’s powers to launch everything in reach towards Spike, from her needle cushion to handkerchiefs torn in pieces and books and sketches.

When throwing the latter turned out to be difficult, she grabbed a mannequin which she hurled towards him on a somewhat chaotic trajectory, seeing how the dresspony bounced back on a bedpost before shattering to pieces just inches from Spike, who was doing his best to dodge the shower of missiles.

“Miss... please... oops... there’s no need... to...”, tried to communicate Spike, dodging turn by turn a tape measure, a fashion magazine, roles of fabric, two mirrors and a broken chair. The shower of projectiles was anarchic but dangerous: he had no way of knowing when she would throw more fatal objects such as scissors or a frill dress.

In panic, Rarity reached for another object to hurl at the poor colt. Unfortunately for him, even though Opal’s basket landed by his feet without making contact, the cat herself landed on his back, mewling atrociously in protest. All her claws fully unsheathed, she clawed herself into Spike as though her ninth life depended on it. The pain made the colt rear up, only to get hit by a magnificent role of fabric squarely in the snout. Dazed, he bumped into the nightstand, throwing off Opal but getting showered in orange juice that had been posed on his breakfast tray.

"Headshot", Spike murmured before throwing himself behind the bed to shield himself.

Rarity continued her shrieks and still had a fair amount of things left to throw, which is why he felt the need to make the first move. He dodged another dresspony before catapulting himself out of his hiding place, right towards Rarity, with the intention of keeping her in check and talking some sense into her... first of all, to stop her fit of hysteria, seeing how the volume of her screams was loud enough to break the wall of sound. Even more freaked out by this unforeseen reaction, Rarity whirled around, reared up on her hind legs and threw her two forehoofs into the air, tearing them down just as Spike was about to land in his attempt to seize her. Her two hoofs hit him squarely in the flank, sending him back flying to his starting point, now two wonderfully red hoofmarks on his flank as a bonus.

The mare herself stumbled back and bumped into the shelf she used to store all her lotions and body care products. One of them fell and landed on her face, showering her with its contents and blinding her temporarily. She shrieked again and started to wildly flail her members in all directions to fend off her adversary... who was watching her from a distance of several feet, dumbstruck. With a desperate effort, he managed to jump on Rarity and pin her down to the ground, at the price of a new hoofstrike against his cheek and several other hits all over his body.

—“Get off, get off, GET OFFFFFFF!”
“But calm down, calm down, calm dooooooooown!” Spike replied, wiping Rarity’s eyes dry the best he could.

She stopped crying but continued to thrash about her members in every direction, trying to escape his grip; in her eyes, he had the intention of hurting her. Spike had to concede several movements, which led him to find himself muzzle-to-muzzle with Rarity, his legs between the beauty’s, their bodies conjoined. The position was highly suggestive; it didn't help that they both kept making small movements to try and gain an edge over their adversary, slightly bucking to and fro in the process, their foreheads covered in sweat now that the fight had calmed down somewhat.

It was precisely this moment Twilight chose to enter the bedroom. In front of her, a barely imaginable chaos unfolded, objects of all kinds strewn messily about all over the room without any discernible order, and two ponies struggling in a way that, from her point of view, seemed rather intimate.

“Err... Rarity?” she asked gently, afraid to disturb the two lovers. "I heard screams, so I was wondering if everything was alright... I’m not sure if I'm bothering you or...."

The pony in question snapped out of her struggle, realising how suggestive her position was. Concerned about her image, she forcefully tried to get up on her hooves, but Spike didn’t let her, afraid she might recommence her attacks on him.

“But do let me stand up, cub...”
“If you... if you calm down, Miss Rarity.”
“How do you kn... let me get up immediately, you ruffian!”

Almost reluctantly, Spike got off and distanced himself, leaving Rarity to get up on her hooves by herself. The adrenaline of the battle evaporated, his numerous bruises and bumps began to remind him of their painful existence. He went to examine them in closer detail, with the help of a mirror that had miraculously survived the whirlwind having ravaged this room. Well, at least his newfound purple coat did plenty to conceal the marks of their confrontation, blending them into his fur — but he missed his thick dragon scales.

The tension gone, he drooped his head in disappointment. All his work to keep up the magic of the night before was reduced to nothing, and Rarity apparently no longer remembered anything about their evening. He preferred to maintain the status quo and not make things even worse, so he put on a perfectly neutral expression before turning to face the two friends. Rarity was doing her very best to convince Twilight that what she had seen was not what it looked like, resorting to gestures and facial expressions. Her conversational partner, however, kept a rather sceptical look on her face in spite of the fashionista’s reassurances, sometimes throwing her looks so thick with innuendo that they made Rarity blush.

“But I'm telling you once again, Twilight, nothing has happened! Nothing, nothing at all.”
“So... I must be imagining the mess around here?”
“Not at all, darling, this is simply the result of a tiny... frenzy.”
“Then I don’t wanna know the results of a big frenzy”, Spike intervened groggily.
“At the very least, mister, be a true gentlecolt and tell my friend here that her assumptions have no correspondence whatsoever with the truth.”

He immediately regretted his intervention, since he now had to face Twilight’s scrutinising look... who apparently still hadn’t noticed his disappearance, a fact that scratched the dragon-pony’s ego somewhat. He needed to lie, but not too much, so as to stay in the realm of the believable.

“Me and Miss Rarity have indeed spent a night together, but there has been no... impropriety on our part. This morning’s episode is nothing but the result of an unfortunate misunderstanding, I assure you.”

His eloquent words, Spike thought proudly, were surely worthy of the most perfect gentlecolt of Equestria and would be sufficient to set an end to any kind of rumours. It amused him how he made nice with Twilight, who apparently didn't recognise him at all.

“So...”
“There's been nothing... carnal.”
“... okay.”
“Rarity, Rarity, RARITYYYYYY!”
That last voice didn't belong to either of them. “What now?” sighed Rarity.

It was a particularly overexcited, oversugared Pinkie Pie that had just entered Rarity’s bedroom.

“Hey Twilight, you’re here, too, that’s great, so you’ll be up to date too 'cause I really need to tell you guys something because if I didn't that wouldn't be sharing with the best friends in the whooooole wide world —"
“Pinkie, what’s the matter with you this morning?” Twilight interrupted her.
“Okay, so listen, this morning, I went over to Rainbow Dash’s, ‘cause you know, we were gonna pull pranks on everypony, and then I’m there on my way and what do I see? Applejack and Rainbow Dash kissing! Me, I was still hidden behind a shack so they couldn’t see me, but I’m sure it was them. And everypony was wondering whether they were together or not and they really are, that’s sooooooooooo great for them, can you believe it?"

“Err... Pinkie? Generally speaking, ponies with secret relationships don’t want everyone to know about them.”
“Oh, but don’t you worry, Twilight, I was so totally happy that I went over to Applejack’s right after Rainbow Dash left and I was there and I hugged her really close and told her how fantastic that was and she, well, she told me that if only her closest friends knew that’d be alright but the other ponies really needn’t know, so I promised that nopony but my friends would know anything about it."

“Yeah, but if you look that way, there’s somepony else with Rarity and, err... except for her, nopony knows him..."

Twilight’s remark stymied Pinkie, who let herself drop to the floor when she saw Spike. Without intending to, she had broken her sacrosanct rule of secrecy. Her mouth gaping, the eyes wide open, she stared at Spike, not knowing what to say in spite of her trembling lips.

“Don’t worry, I've heard absolutely nothing, Miss Pinkie. A gentlecolt owes it to himself to know when to listen, but also when not to listen, should it be necessary.”
“Rarity, are you still sure you don’t know this gallant stallion?”

Rarity turned away without saying anything, blushing strongly at Twilight’s insinuations.

“Because you see, Pinkie”, Twilight went on, “apparently, Applejack and Rainbow Dash aren’t the only ones to find their soulmate of late...”
“Oh, oh, go, go, tell me everything I need to know, this is gonna be even awesome-r if there’s another couple! Ah, wait, I know, I know, it’s you and Rarity, amirite, Twilight? Huh, huh, huh?”
“Err... not really.”
“Oh wait, don’t tell me, Rarity and our new friend, who I don’t even know yet!” With these words, she threw herself towards Spike and started to bounce up and down all around him, while smiling at him broadly.
“Err...”
“... no, no, no and once again, no, Twilight, I’ve already told you there has been nothing between us, so stop with your... innuendos, you’re giving everypony funny ideas.”

Spike felt a twinge in his heart when he saw with which vigour Rarity fended off any allegations of an intimate encounter between the two. After the night they had spent together, could you still with any truthfulness say there had been nothing between them? He had gotten closer to Rarity than ever before, than when he had been a dragon, but the mare's denials froze his heart.

At a convenient moment, he snuck out of the bedroom and descended the stairs. In the living room, he noticed several leftovers from the evening: amongst other things, several bottles of apple cider, one hundred percent locally distilled at Applejack’s. He decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave them there, with Twilight and Pinkie upstairs eager to call out every suspect sign. So Spike had to clean up any proofs as quickly and discreetly as possible, finishing to his satisfaction just before he heard the ponies come down the stairs.

He retreated to a discreet corner and waited for the two intruders to leave: first Pinkie Pie, who wanted to inform Fluttershy before anypony else, and then Twilight, who was reassured at the cause of Rarity’s shrieks and went back to her studies. With a barely contained sigh of relief, Rarity closed the door shut. She headed towards a nearby armchair and let herself sink into it, visibly exhausted. Spike approached her with slight concern.

“And to think that after all this, I don’t even know your name, my dear Mister Stranger", she said.
“Well, I have to say, just yesterday evening, you did know my name... and I remember yours, you see”, said Spike. “I’m under the impression that last night might have been a little too... inebriated for you, seeing how... agitated... you woke up.”
“And I have to say that it is not at all my habit to wake up with an unknown head leaning over me”, Rarity said and pouted pointedly.

Irritated, Spike turned away without a word and started searching the room’s cupboards.

“Might I ask what you're planning to do now?”
“First of all, find out where you keep your aspirins. You wouldn’t know it from seeing you, but you have some volume when you scream at the top of your lungs.”
“Swine.”
“And I think you too must have a heavy headache — if not, you’d start yelling at me again just about now, or am I mistaken?”
“...”
“A bespoke silence”, Spike said snidely and gave a scream of joy when he discovered the precious tablets.

They drank their glasses of water with the aspirin scent in silence, exchanging looks that were soon inquiring, soon accusatory. However, their silent battle wasn't supposed to lead to a new rise of tension, so Spike took it upon himself to break the vicious cycle.

“And if we just start over with a clean slate?" he said. "A fresh start? There’s too much ill will between us right now, that’s not gonna be healthy.”
“After all your hurtful words? I don’t know if a fresh start is going to be possible.”
“I just wanted to level the score, my cupcake.”
"Well, first of all, I hope, you’re planning on refreshing my faulty memory.”
“But of course, Miss. That's actually been my intention from the start.”
“I don’t know... I can muse and muse, but I don’t remember anything, not even the slightest shred of a memory... well, please do tell me, I guess I don’t really have a choice....”

The living room thus became the stage of a long dramatic play between the two protagonists. Spike took several moments to bring his memories in order, knowing in advance that the story he was about to tell would be complicated. Then he plunged into a long monologue that took him dozens of minutes, recounting everything, from their first “encounter” when they had arrived at the Carousel Boutique, the first gratefully received glass of alcohol, up to the deployment of the finest bottles from Rarity’s very private collection. He didn’t hide anything and told everything, how they got both emotionally and physically close that night, and what they had said and done to each other. Of course, Spike couldn’t reveal his true identity, but he didn’t attempt to exploit Rarity’s temporary amnesia; his report stayed as honest as possible.

Discovering that several hours of your life had completely disappeared from your memory could be very disturbing. In spite of Rarity’s expressions, who seemed to find all of this absurd, he didn’t change anything, didn’t interrupt himself, and continued his account without omissions, the tiniest detail assuming great importance against the backdrop of Rarity's complete black-out.

Once he had related all the facts, Spike hurried to get another glass of water which he gulped down in an instant, his throat completely dried out. During this time, Rarity stayed in her armchair, in shock: she, who was always so reserved and attentive about her comportment, she had done something like that? With a complete stranger? She had difficulties accepting it, even though she could sense that her partner hadn’t attempted to exploit or abuse her, be it during the evening itself or now. After her waking with a bang, these revelations just added more spice to an already very excited morning.

When Spike returned, they stayed silent for several minutes, contenting themselves with looking at each other, not speaking a single word. She didn’t know how to react, the new facts casting this morning’s gestures in a completely different light, which made her feel embarrassed about her somewhat... disastrous behaviour. He was waiting for a reaction from his beauty and did not know what else to say to plead his cause: his so carefully constructed plan could be torn to shreds by Rarity’s next words. Both didn’t dare to speak the first word that could be the beginning of anything. They waited for the other to speak first, to finally relieve the two of the heavy weight on their conscience.

“And now?”

To be continued

Chapter 5

Sprawled over soft green lawn, a straw in his mouth, Spike watched the blue sky and the handful of clouds that floated by. He profited from the mild weather to get a fresh breath of air, away from that library he had been stuck in these last days. He needed a break from his search, a bit of relaxation to clear his thoughts and not go crazy. Everything around him was calm and quiet; and that appeased the frustration which had been sapping his energy for a week now.

Since his return from Canterlot, he had undertaken numerous efforts to figure out how his mirror functioned: after all, using a magical artefact wasn't as easy as assembling a piece of do-it-yourself furniture. There was no manual, no instructions, no clues whatsoever to help Spike understand how to make the mirror work. His luck seemed to once again bump into reality; in novels and dramatic plays, you never saw the heroes failing to understand how to employ the central artefact. There were always either ingenious intuitions or some contrived familiarity at work, and in either case, they didn't have to spend hours to get the object to function.

He cursed himself for not having anticipated this question; he had simply thought that during the length of his quest, he would find a way to activate the mirror's magical properties.

This situation had brought back Spike's frustration, who once again saw no clear solution at hand. And so, after another couple of days of suffering at the library, he had decided to allow himself a break and spend an afternoon serenely meditating in a quiet corner around Ponyville. From the hill he was on, he had a great view of the town, and peacefully watched the ponies' goings-on.
How wonderful it was, after all this commotion, to do nothing for once! The peaceful painting in front of him was marvellously soothing, all his woes seemed gone from his mind. Not that he had forgotten his problem over this; he still mulled it over, but in a much more serene manner.

He started to think about all his attempts during the last week, reviewing what he had already tried. The most simple and classic methods had all failed; neither a simple gaze into the mirror nor an uttered magical formula or internally voiced wish had been successful. Spike had hit a dead end; he couldn't think of any other way to activate the artefact. Of course, he could have asked for help. Twilight, for example, would surely find a way to use the mirror; but his secret was too important, and he was too afraid of his friends' reactions to ask them for help.

That was one of the reasons why he kept the mirror on his body, in one of his pockets, at all times: his basket wasn't a very secure hiding place, and in any case, the thought of losing it was too deterring.

He stared up into the sky and its sparse clouds, letting his mind wander freely, mechanically caressing his mirror. His thoughts once more wandered to Rarity, inspired by a cloud that seemed to resemble his beloved. All those privileged moments he had spent in her presence resurfaced to him like a mosaic. He went from one scene to the next, while savouring the sweetness and intimacy of every single moment. Her curves, her mane, her gaze... everything about her fascinated Spike, who was adoring the images that emerged from his memories. Passion sparked in him, grew stronger with every passing second, it devoured him, he yearned for Rarity's affection, he wanted... more, ever more, of this sweet nectar love that he had grown addicted to.

He shifted to a more comfortable position and let himself plunge into this whirlwind of emotions, carrying him away into sweet fantasy. His memories were soon joined by scenes that sprang from his imagination; his fantasies became one with reality, making the overall painting even more beautiful. He idealised every scene, closed his eyes to drink in every second, hoped that nothing would come to disturb these magical moments, that they would never stop. In a half-conscious state, he slowly slipped towards sleep, all these images of Rarity his lullaby...

...

Spike felt a touch on his shoulder. He slowly emerged from that pleasantly warm cocoon he had been in. Vaguely groaning at whatever it was that had awoken him, he curled up even more, wanting to return to his world of dreams and clouds. But whoever was shaking his shoulder now, they didn't want to stop; soon joined by a sound vague and distant in Spike's ears. Despite his hazy state, he attempted to recognise the voice, while turning his shoulder away. Faced with these two annoyances, he resigned himself to his fate and slowly opened his eyes, intending to resolve this mystery as quickly as possible and then go back to sleep. His lids were heavy, his view hazy. He rubbed his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the sun, which was already setting; his nap must have been longer than expected. The second thing was that he had difficulties standing up, as if he had drunk too much. The third thing was that a purple pony was watching him anxiously. It must have been her who had roused him from his wonderful slumber.

"Yes?" Spike said, giving a deep sigh.
- "Excuse me, but are you alright?"
- "Why wouldn't I be?" said Spike, irritated at not being able to stand up.
- "You're all alone in a field while the night is falling, you can't seem to get up on your hooves, and you're covered in some weird, transparent, sticky substance..."

Spike immediately tried to draw himself up to full height, but he couldn't seem to find his balance and with a heavy thud collapsed to the ground. Swearing, he rolled one way, then another, attempting in vain to get up on his feet. The pony watched wide-eyed, obviously unsure what to say. Spike's struggle went on for a few minutes before he exhaustedly resigned himself to remain lying belly-down. Mechanically, he tried to use his hand to wipe the sweat he'd broken from his forehead. However, the sensation against his head was completely different from the usual; harder, rougher, less precise. Intrigued, he lowered his arm to look at it.

His eyes and his mouth grew wider and wider as his brain analysed the image in front of him. Instead of what should have been an arm covered in purple scales, ending in a claw with four fingers, there was now a purple pony leg, ending in a coal-black hoof.
In shock, Spike directed his gaze towards his other arm; that one had changed, too. Taken aback, he started to look at himself in closer detail, noticing the appearance of purple fur all over his body, the presence of a green mane and tail, and the transformation of his dragon feet into pony hooves.

He could hardy believe his eyes. He spent three long minutes carefully looking himself all over, incapable of accepting what had just happened to him. In a trance, he no longer tried to get on his feet, but to stand on four hooves, and immediately succeeded. He made a few wobbly steps to try and realise that this was no longer just a dream, but reality, and he would from now on have to get used to walking in a completely different manner.

He turned to face the other pony and smiled.

"Everything's fine now, no need to worry about me."
"Are you sure? Because you look..."
"Oh yes, I'm sure. Thanks for your concern."

He turned around and, on wobbly hooves, started to trot into the other direction, looking for a watering spot to clean himself and look at his reflection. His gait was hesitant, but ever improving as he got to grips with his new pony legs. He couldn't believe it: he had finally managed to activate the darned mirror's magical properties. Spike cheered, even managing a few Pinkie-Pie-style air-hops as he continued his way towards the nearest river. Everything was going to be alright now. Goodbye, library research, goodbye, endless hours of reading, goodbye headaches over impossible riddles, from now on, everything would be a walk in the park. All his worries had disappeared, he felt like singing, like crying, like shouting his joy from the rooftops, that was how happy he was.

"Oh well, my good old Spike, I don't know how you did it, but you're finally a pony. And it's all thanks to that... BUCK! The mirror!"

He turned around and attempted (with some difficulties) to gallop towards his sleeping spot, to make up for his colossal blunder. The light was still sufficient to search the ground; but once Spike was there, he didn't find anything, even after turning every blade of grass around his nap spot. Exhausted by this chain of extraordinary events, he sat down, resting his back against a tree, to catch his breath and gather his thoughts.

"Okay, let's stay calm. The mirror, I've always had it with me, in my pocket. Now it's not there anymore, so it's got to be somewhere else. It's not in the grass, I've searched every nook and cranny and didn't find anything. The other pony hasn't stolen it from me, I couldn't have stepped on it without noticing... maybe I lost it along the way? But I didn't see anything on the way back here..."

Spike scratched his head (as well as he managed to), perplexed. Where could the precious mirror be now? Not finding it would mean to stay a pony forever... of course, that had been his project all along, but he hadn't expected to end up like this — without knowing how it had happened, and without time to prepare himself properly. Panic started to take over as the consequences of his sudden transformation finally bubbled up to his consciousness. No way to justify the absence of Spike the dragon, no plausible story to introduce himself to Ponyville's inhabitants, no fallback if Rarity didn't love him even as a pony, no money, no belongings, nothing. With every passing minute, the anxiety grew in Spike, who found it ever more difficult to stay calm and could hardly put one thought next to the other. He got up and started pacing up and down, to try and calm his nerves.

"Spike? Spiiiiike?"

The dragon-turned-pony gave a start as he heard a voice that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. He got up and peered around his surroundings, trying to find its origin.

"There's no point in looking for me, Spike. I'm not around you, I'm inside of you."

"Excuse me?"

"You are the only one who can hear me. You don't need to talk for me to understand you. I'm a part of you."

"But who are you?"

"Me? I am the mirror you possess! What else should I be?"

"Usually, a mirror doesn't talk inside of people's heads..."

"To be precise, I am the fragment of magic that my creator has instilled in this mirror — so that it may talk to its owners."

"And why would she do that?"

"My creator had very specific demands for me. She created me so that I could help those who had managed to make use of me. That way, there was no need for her to leave behind any trace in writing or otherwise about my functioning. She wanted to keep the mirror's usage to those who had a real need for it; I'm not fit for just any vain pompadour to come across my way."

"So... you are the mirror's manual?"

"Oh no. I am the mirror. I am who judges whether or not my owner's wish is worthy of being granted. I am who chooses how to become part of my user. Or maybe, choosing is too big a word. I am incapable of any kind of full personality."

"Become part?"

"Yes. My creator designed me so that I could be used only by a single person at a time. That is why I attach myself, one way or another, to my user; our union will stay whole until my owner decides to return to his original appearance. In your case, I am your cutie mark."

Spike glanced at his flank to discover that, indeed, a cutie mark in form of a pocket mirror had appeared there.

"So I haven't lost you, you've just..."
"Become part of you, yes."
"Are you always going to be inside of my head?"
"You will only hear me when you have questions about my functioning. The rest of the time you will barely notice my presence. And I will also stay silent if you have questions that really don't have much to do with me or my working, because, you see, I am incapable of answering anything that does not concern me."
"But how did I manage to.. use you?"
"My creator intended that only those in real need can benefit from my capabilities. While you were asleep, you have gone through several strong emotions, which allowed me to judge the sincerity of your wish and its urgency, and your determination to go all the way."

"And if I want to become a dragon again?"

"You just say the word, and I will cut off our link. Know, however, that in that case you will never again be able to make use of me. My creator didn't want metamorphosis to become mere routine. It is to be an important decision you take once during your life. I offer my user one chance, and one only."

"So that important decision has been made in my sleep? Okay, it's what I've always wanted, but I would have preferred it at my own pace..."

"It's not my fault if your wish has been granted at an inconvenient moment. You should have picked a better moment to prove your worth or been better prepared, then."

Grudgingly, Spike stopped his pacing, his worries appeased somewhat. So there was a way back, but using the mirror wasn't something to be taken lightly. For the moment, he found himself in a very complicated situation. Granted, the upside was that for once, he wasn't in short supply of information. From now on, he would have to tend to more pressing and material questions that occurred to him. After all, he was still all alone at the onset of night with nowhere to go. There were still remainders of that gooey substance on him, and he had now way to credibly explain his sudden disappearance to the other ponies. He needed a plan, and quick. Any profound discussion with his newly found inner companion would have to wait.

First of all, he needed to make himself look presentable. So he once more headed towards the nearby river, intending to wash himself and see what his new pony head looked like. Once done, he directed his steps towards Ponyville, but stayed at the rims; he didn't dare enter in fear of having to face embarrassing questions if he met other ponies. He needed to come up with a plausible story, convincing enough for Twilight and the others. Twilight was his greatest risk since, intelligent mare that she was, she would be able to recognise Spike the dragon hidden underneath that veneer of Spike the hack. Which reminded him that he would need a new name first of all. He spent a few dozen minutes ruminating on this issue, then settled for Scale Mirror as his new identity. Reassured, he continued his walk.

The night had fallen, the sky was covered in menacing clouds, and one by one, the lights behind Ponyville's windows were extinguished. Spike for his part continued to err about, still looking for a way to get out of this situation. He had never given any consideration to the possibility that his quest would result in a conundrum like this. He needed to start somewhere, do things one at a time, but he just didn't see which end to tackle first. He could go to Twilight and ask her for shelter, but then, he would either have to confess everything or come up with a rock-solid story to justify his plea.

It is a well-known proverb that God always helps fools, lovers and drunkards. In Spike's case, He had then three times the amount of help to provide. That help materialised with the appearance of a sleek silhouette in the distance, on top of which throwned an easily recognised coiffure. Yes, it was in fact Rarity, who was returning to Ponyville, pulling behind her a cart brimming with gems. From a distance, it was obvious she was struggling, as her steps seemed tired and her pace throttled. What was more, the looming clouds were starting to pour out their contents; completing the picture with a torrent of rain. The chance offered to Spike here was no less than the fabulous cliché of the damsel in distress, which allowed every hero to win over his beauty and be thanked by her for his hassle. And yes, for Rarity, a ruined mane certainly meant distress.

As Spike promptly directed his steps towards her, another unexpected opportunity to help out his beloved offered itself. One of the wheels of Rarity's cart got stuck, immobilising the whole cart and spilling a portion of its precious content.

A Rarity in distress, what else could you ask for to make your entry into Ponyville with a splash? He thanked the heavens for slipping him a trump like this and hurried to join his love. This time, he was swift and quick on his hooves, having learned how to move as a pony. Once he was fairly close to her, slightly out of breath, he slowed his steps before stopping and drawing himself up to full height. He greeted Rarity, who had turned to face him when she heard his galloping.

"Good evening, milady. Might I offer you my help?"

To be continued...