As Spike walked down the streets of Canterlot with Twilight’s family, his eyes drifted towards Twilight Velvet. Something about her body struck him as…off, especially compared with what he’d just read in the journal he had stumbled onto several minutes prior. Far from the chubby mare in the journal, Velvet’s body was sleek and well-built, the various contours of muscles coursing throughout her frame revealing themselves when Spike squinted slightly. If it weren’t for the color of the fur and the lack of wings, Spike would have sworn he was looking at Rainbow Dash.

Velvet turned to interject a remark as Twilight recounted her fight with Tirek. Whatever the remark was, Spike didn’t hear it. His attention was drawn to something else.

A thin scar on Velvet’s right cheek—just as described in the journal.

There was also another, more rounded scar on one of her hind legs, one more on her front leg, just barely visible from behind, and several smaller ones Spike couldn’t keep track of. He put two and two together, his jaw almost falling open.

All of a sudden, the idea of Twilight’s mom having a shady past doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dragon.”

“Oh!” Spike tapped his claws together and glanced at the sidewalk momentarily before facing Velvet. “Oh right, sorry about that! Just…admiring the scenery!”

Wait…

Spike slapped himself in the face.

Meanwhile, Velvet snickered, then flicked her tail. “You uncouth bachelor!” she said in the nobles’ distinctive Equish. “I’ve already found my mate! Hmph!” As she trotted away, she pointed her nose in the air, leaving Spike to quicken his pace again. She gave him one last wink before rejoining Twilight and Night Light’s conversation.

Grimacing at himself, Spike kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. Smooth moves, you blockhead.

---

Night had fallen in the Sparkle household. Having stockpiled enough books to fill the new castle’s library—and watched Twilight wolf down three hayburgers—Spike was ready to head back to Ponyville. He and Twilight missed the last train, though, and had to stay the night in the Sparkle house. After brushing up, Twilight hurried to her childhood bed—managing to squeeze into it despite her Alicorn growth—and wasted no time settling into the covers and closing her eyes.

Spike, still as a rock, stared at the dark ceiling.

Should I tell Twilight? I mean, she has the right to know, but she’s been so busy these past few days. I don’t want to give her something else to worry about…

Spike took the journal from under the covers of his basket and stared at its silhouette, illuminated only by moonlight. The journal was lighter than Meadowbrook’s Translated Corpus, but Spike felt it weighing heavily on him like a succubus. It was taunting him, prodding him to read through it all and let Velvet’s dark past out into the world…or at least, out to her daughter.

He climbed out of the bed, moving slowly so the shuffling fabrics made less sound, and sneaked towards Twilight, the rumble of her snoring reverberating through the room. Another thought stopped him before he could give in to the temptress’s wiles.

There’s probably a good reason Velvet wanted to hide these journals away… Well, aside from the fact that they’re private diaries.

“Maybe I should read a little more before I tell Twilight.” His voice was so soft even he could barely hear it. “F-for research purposes. Yeah.”

Spike made his way to the bathroom, steadily opened the door, and closed the door behind him. He flicked the lights on. His eyes throbbed as they were drowned in a dazzling white light.

“Agh!” Spike suppressed the shout; he didn’t want his voice to leak out the door and into the bedroom.

When his eyes had adjusted to the brightness, Spike took one of the rugs, climbed onto the sink, and turned it into a facsimile of his own basket. “Not as soft as the real thing, but as the DaBalleron folks say on the Daring Do forums, if it fits, it ships…or ‘sits,’ in this case.”