House of Parker

Featured Characters - Rarity

Rating - T

Chapter Twenty-Three “Release”

    Rarity bit down on her lip, trying to loosen the tightening knot in her stomach. She had hoped this time would never come, but the fates were cruel, leading her to this dreadful moment. Rarity shook her head disapprovingly. There was nothing to say on her part, yet silence was perhaps the largest statement one could make, especially when it revolved around a personal matter. She wanted to hide, to drift freely in the catch of the wind. It would have been far less painful than this.    Spike stared at her, his large jade eyes glistening with tears. His lips moved again, pleading out his declaration. Rarity slammed her eyes shut and cringed. This was desperation, a futile attempt to change the winds of fate. The attempt was fruitless. Rarity was happy: with her new lifestyle, her home, her herd, and Peter. She couldn’t give it all up, not for something she didn’t believe in. Rarity chided herself. This could have been avoided ages ago. She could not undo the decay of all the things that Spike had imagined they could possibly be.    Rarity knew how heart wrenching it felt, to love somepony you couldn’t be with, but Twilight saved her from that pain, deciding to share her special somepony. Now Peter was theirs, not just hers. It was a delicate balance, one everypony managed to make work. Spike spoke out again, freeing the mare from her self-induced trance. The sound was like a coastal wind lost amongst a tempestuous day: lost through waves crashing against the rocks. Rarity averted her gaze from Spike to the darkening sky above, barely visible through the collection of trees in the Whitetail Woods.    She had hoped the baby dragon would grow out of his crush and pursue somepony closer to his age. Spike was sweet, a kindred soul, and here she was, about to break his heart. The first tiny bits of rain fell from the clouds, shimmering trails running down the leaves, branches, and Rarity’s cheeks. The mare cursed under her breath. It was a clever metaphor. Rarity licked her lips, begging for the words to come to her, and she fought back her tears, pleading that the day would come at some time in the future when Spike could forgive her.    “Spike… I’m sorry.”    Spike shook his head, clenching his claws. “Why are you doing this to me?” Rarity maintained eye contact with the dragon, her heart wrenching by the second. He pouted, gritting his teeth. “What does he have that I don’t?!”    The answer was simple yet difficult. Rarity turned her back to the dragon, knowing his gaze was fixed on her. Rain continued to pour. She couldn’t look back. That would betray her feelings, even if it left a friend crushed under the weight of the world. Each step she took felt heavier than the last, and the further they parted, perhaps signified a drawing bridge: held by the will of one end yet broken by the carelessness of the other. Rarity knew there was a chance that she and Spike could never be as close as they used to be, not as long as Peter was there.    “Rarity!” Spike yelled, his voice as fragile as glass. “What does Peter have that I don’t!?”    She stopped, placing her hoof over her chest before leaving Spike in the rain.    “Peter has... my heart.”