It was a brisk Tuesday night when I fell in love with Twilight Sparkle.

I had never beheld such beauty in my common owl eyes. I assumed that such goddesses were reserved for owl heaven, where there was rumored to be infinitely bountiful hunting grounds and savory mice and beautiful companions for the good owls. However, for one such beauty to be here now, among the living, was absurd. But, my sharp owl eyes do not often deceive me. There lived a young lavender pony in that library, pretty as a young birch sapling, and I fell in love with her.

Her face matched the gentle glow of the candlelight illuminating it. Merry as a chickadee in the wee hours of a summer morning, her mouth was perked up in a gentle smile. Her feathers were a soft lavender, and her clean-cut head feathers a royal violet. A quill telekinetically danced in front of her with skill and deftness, writing away.

She spoke to herself as she wrote, and even though this was a sign of insanity as I understood it, she spoke with such care and enunciation that I knew the opposite to be true. That, or perhaps she was only insane on Tuesday nights. I could handle that.

I did not often see ponies in general, as most of them were asleep in their beds during the night. Ponies were not nearly as attractive asleep as they were awake. All ponies snored, and snoring in owl culture is an indication of contemptuous disinterest, in addition to a symptom of obstructed air passages.

Point is, ponies were not nocturnal, and thus to see the first one I’d seen awake, especially a pony as gorgeous as her, filled me with purpose and hope for a fulfilled life. It was then that I knew that she was my soul mate, and I hers.

Now, owls are steeped in tradition, and one such tradition is that if one is an owl, one can only wed another owl. To wed someone of another species was typically frowned upon. But it was in my deep-seated opinion that love transcended mere species, as did matrimony.

I knew in that moment I had to woo that fair pony by all means necessary. So when her scroll soared out of the window, carried by the wind, I knew that to retrieve her dear scroll would be to win her favour. In owl customs, to return a lost scroll is to show affection. With the power of love driving my wings, I cut through the night sky, caught the scroll midair, and hastened it back to its owner.

The goddess among ponykind watched as I set the scroll down on her writing table. Her splendid violet eyes locked with mine, and we connected on a level beyond the physical realm. Time came to a halt as we entered a deep, spiritual conversation.

Hello, she seemed to say.

Hello, I said. Dumbfounded, overwhelmed by her stark beauty, and unable to summon anything better to say, I said the first thing that came to my small owl mind. I like your face.

I could hear a snicker travel through the paranormal wavelength. I dreamed of this moment, she said. In all my days on this Earth, I never thought I would find love, and yet today I have. I suppose it’s true what they say, isn’t it? Love always finds a way.

Indeed it does, I replied. Indeed it does.

She considered me, the moonlight caressing her lovely visage. You’re much more handsome than I imagined.

Oh, stop, I said, concealing a supernatural blush.

But love, as powerful as it may be, could not stall its younger metaphysical brother time forever. The pony looked down at her scroll, then back up at me, unsure of what to say. From her ensuing silence, I realized that I ought to proceed with the ritual.

Now, it was customary in owl mating rituals to ‘play hard to get’, as it were. So after setting the scroll down, I immediately turned my back to her. I was rewarded when she begged me not to leave. I turned around and shivered to pretend it was chilly, also part of the owl mating ritual.

“Gosh, it's cold tonight. Say, would you like to relax in here and keep me company while I work?” the pony said. She failed to give me a hug as per the ritual, but her cheery and sincere voice warmed me all the same.

I emphatically accepted, adding a pledge that I would forever become her one and only personal slave and carry out any and all of her commands or wishes. She pretty much ignored this. Since ignoring is a sign of acceptance in owl culture, I hopped in glee and found myself a perch next to her writing table. This gave me the perfect viewpoint of my true love.

I was able to observe her for a whole hour in this way, but it felt like a fortnight. Her soothing voice, so sweet and serene, pulled me in close and sang to me like a lullaby. Even when she yawned, excused herself, and bid me a good night, I found myself ready to sleep as well. For this pony, I went so far as to give up nocturnality so I might admire her throughout all her waking hours.

Indeed. For love of a pony, I would give it owl up.

---

The next day, she taught me how to prepare pony breakfast. We made what she called a sunflower smoothie. She offered to share, but I politely declined to partake. Instead, I briefly ventured out into the outskirts of town for a shrew.

When I returned, she declared that she had come up with a name for me: Owlowiscious. I could not fathom where this name had come from, but I was ever grateful she had graced me with a name, regardless. I thanked her emphatically.

After I helped her with dusting some shelves and performing other morning chores, she left the room briefly. I perched myself atop a podium, awaiting her return, watching ponies milling about in the streets through the library's front window. How different and wonderful my life was now that I had met Twilight Sparkle. To think that such an exceptional pony would take me under her wing… I was but a common owl, and my new stature was nothing but a privilege. I owed her everything.

From across the room, I heard a voice call out, “Hello?” In any other circumstance, this voice would have been welcomed by a ‘hello’ of my own, but I recognized the voice as distinctly male. And the voice came from upstairs, so he was residing in this place.

I experienced a new feeling, the drive of love’s older metaphysical sister: jealousy. The owner of this voice was in direct competition with me for Twilight Sparkle’s hoof in marriage.

I turned around, slowly, to intimidate my foe.

“Woah! Dude, that’s creepy,” he said.

I revelled in my initial victory. This creature would soon learn who was destined to marry whom around here.

“Hi there! I’m Spike,” he said, bringing a wing up to his chest, indicating that he was indeed the Spike he was referring to. “I’m sure Twilight has told you all about me.”

I eyed him. As it turned out, she had once mentioned a ‘Spike the Dragon’ to me, and only in passing. I wasn’t sure what kind of creature he was, with his unusually large head and plump body. It became obvious he was not a suitor of Twilight Sparkle, so I lost interest in him. “No, she has not. I don’t care who you are, quite frankly.”

“Uh, Spike? You know, assistant number one?” he said.

Assistant number one? What could he possibly be implying? Twilight Sparkle had not mentioned this. “You dare to challenge me as her one and only servant? Who do you think you are?”

He became frustrated. “I'm Spike! And who are you? What are you?” he said, jabbing an accusatory feather at me.

I couldn’t help but feel offended. “You still have yet to answer my question. Whoever you think you are, you do not belong to Twilight Sparkle. That would be me and me alone.”

“Who?”

I blinked. This dragon must not be the sleekest sprig in the nest. “Me, who else?”

“I thought your name was Owlowiscious!”

Yet more evidence to assert my suspicion. “That is the name given to me by Twilight Sparkle, yes. I’m not sure who or what you’re arguing over at this point.”

“Okay, ‘Who’, ‘Owlowiscious’, whatever. I'm Spike, okay? Look! All you need to know is that I'm number one and you're number two. Got it?” He puffed up his chest, which in owl culture can be a sign of either intimidation or an attempt to entice females as per the mating ritual, and he wasn’t succeeding at either.

It was then my turn to intimidate him. “If you choose to be so foolhardy to persistently assert that claim, then watch your back, Spike the Dragon. You don’t know what I’m capable of. You won’t know when I shall come after you, and you won’t know where. But you will know why, and you will know who was responsible.”

He stared at me, his eye twitching, so he seemed sufficiently frightened by this. He clenched his wings in anger. “So, a man of mystery, huh? I'm keeping my eye on you!” he said.

Likewise, Mr. the Dragon.

Likewise.

---

As a method of asserting my territorial claim, I perched myself atop Twilight Sparkle’s back and rode her wherever she went. I did so in part because I was tired, certainly, as I was still not used to a diurnal sleep schedule, but it was necessary to discourage Spike from his foolish ways of thinking.

The rest of the afternoon was spent attending to Twilight Sparkle’s every whim. Due to my unnatural ability to not only understand ponies’ language but read it as well, I was able to retrieve books from her library. I marvelled at how a pony so intelligent not only owned her own library, but lived in it as well.

Throughout the day, however, I was unable to exclusively focus on basking in Twilight Sparkle’s grandeur and loveliness. Occupying my mind was Spike the Dragon, and how to demonstrate to Twilight Sparkle that I was a superior assistant to him, contrary to his insistence. To achieve this, I learned to not only do whatever she bid me to do, but what she instructed him to do as well. Then I had the idea to sabotage one of Twilight Sparkle’s quills, in order to send Spike on a fruitless mission, and while he was gone, I simply offered one of my own feathers to Twilight Sparkle.

However, it was in finding a book on astronomy that I found the perfect ammunition. Twilight Sparkle asked me to fetch Astronomical Astronomer's Almanac to All Things Astronomy, which is a rather redundant title, but I digress. When I flew up to retrieve the book, I noted its pages were charred, and the book was rendered unsalvageable.

I presented the book to Twilight Sparkle, commenting that I suspected such was the doing of Spike the Dragon, and had evidence to support this fact if she would like (which I did not, but I was relying on our profound mutual trust). She took one look at it and stomped over to the sleeping dragon, throwing it right in front of his face. Success.

She scolded him, and as it turns out, he actually was guilty of the deed. I stood stock-still, silently rejoicing in his breach of her trust. Yes, Twilight Sparkle. Spike the Dragon may claim to be your number one assistant, but we both know the truth.

Once Twilight Sparkle walked away, Spike lunged at me, thrusting an accusatory feather in my direction. “You set me up! Well, two can play that game.”

I sneered. “Is that so, little dragon?” This offered me a unique opportunity to get him to set himself up. I encouraged him to continue this ill-fated line of thought. “Who can play that game?”

“Not ‘who’, two!” Then, he extended two of his feathers out at me, which confused me. Holding up two feathers is a common owl custom, used to express dislike of current economic conditions, but the stork market was thriving at that point in time. He stomped out of the room.

---

I witnessed yet more evidence that Spike wasn’t the sharpest chick in the nest.

He ‘played this game’ by faking a mice’s death and blaming it on me. I was confused as to why he didn’t use a real mouse. It would’ve been much more convincing.

What I witnessed earlier led me to believe Spike was ignorant of our mating customs, but I was surprised at his actions here. The presentation of a dead, bloodied mouse to a female was indeed the next level of affection, from the level where Twilight Sparkle and I stood currently.

However, Twilight Sparkle declined his presentation, and rightfully so. I would imagine she was still mad with Spike the Dragon after the charred book incident. She essentially disowned him and slammed the library door behind us, and we proceeded to take a lovely, private stroll throughout the city.

I gave her an opportunity to calm her thoughts, her spirit. Her frustration was certainly justified. Spike the Dragon was a rather disappointing assistant, after all. He was insolent, selfish, and quite frankly stupid.

It wasn’t fair to him, nor Twilight Sparkle and me especially, to support his delusion any longer. Moreover, his competition with me for Twilight was inappropriate. If he were to persist, it might escalate to a territorial duel. I would hate to have no choice but win and subject Spike the Dragon to such an embarrassment, or even death if it came to that.

As we passed the town hall, Twilight Sparkle lowered her head a little. I felt a vibration in my soul as she contacted me through our unique spiritual connection.

There is something you should know concerning Spike’s behaviour today, she said.

I settled in as the sun touched the horizon, ready to begin its descent to the Earth’s underside. Tell me, my love, I said.

With the ethereal sigh that followed, I knew something weighed heavily on her mind. Spike the Dragon is not as he seems. I have known this since he was young. He is a stupid creature, loved by no one, and I am merely trying to give him purpose in life by leading him to believe that he is not, in fact, useless.

I listened, not surprised to hear this. I waited for her to continue, but it seemed she was awaiting my response. Go on, I said.

It is through the boundless kindness of my heart that I employ him as I do, she said. I give him simple, remedial tasks, but even then he fails to meet any sort of competency. She let out a telepathic sigh. So I stand at a crossroads, as you see. I cannot convince him with a clean conscience that he is my number one assistant, when he is much too dumb for that standing.

Quite a crossroads indeed, I replied. He is quite dumb.

Yes, Twilight Sparkle said. He is.

Very dumb, I replied.

I pitied him, now. His dishonesty, his inability to wield responsibility, his futile attempts to accomplish the simplest of tasks, his failure to adequately follow a simple conversational thread, his blatant ignorance of other species’ cultures, his general lack of intelligence… all a result of his tragic stupidity. I’m not sure I could manage to survive if I had to bear being that moronic.

But there was no other alternative for him, was there? Certainly, he could not survive by himself. And not only did Twilight Sparkle opt to care for his earthly needs, but his psychological ones, too, by leading him to believe he was in possession of more intelligence than fate had bestowed upon him.

Twilight Sparkle’s generosity inspired me. I knew what had to be done, not only for her, but for the both of us. To be selfless is to live without regret, and because Twilight Sparkle and I were destined to be together for eternity, it was fitting that I should challenge myself to match her selflessness. Plus, she would certainly be impressed.

Demote me, I said. Make me your number two assistant.

What? For what ludicrous reason would I do that?

He is a stupid dragon, but to feel a sense, any sense, of self-worth is to live a fulfilling life, I said. He needs that. He needs to believe it, and so you must continue to promote it.

She took a moment to ponder over my proposition. You are right, she said. It is decided, then. Spike the Dragon will remain my formal number one assistant, but you my true companion. She supernaturally smiled as she physically surveyed the town. It is true when they say owls are emblematic of wisdom.

Thank you, I said.

Have I ever mentioned how handsome you are?

You have indeed, I said, smirking, and you are free to mention it as often as you’d like.

The library came back into view, and I roosted in her fur. We truly were perfect for each other, able to agree on all that mattered. I would’ve preferred my relation to her to not have to be kept secret, but for poor, hapless Spike, it was worth it.

Spike the Dragon had his place amongst us. He may not have been equal to us, no, but he had needs too. And though his needs and mine were very, very different, they did not necessarily have to conflict. Harmony (love’s metaphysical adopted twin sister) and contentment were achievable, even for Spike the Dragon.

We neared the library, and Twilight Sparkle was about to walk back in when I noticed an unusual set of tracks leading away from the library’s front door.

Spike the Dragon has run off, I said. I can’t say I’m surprised. We probably should go and find him.

How do you know that? she asked.

With my wing and a hoot, I pointed to the set of ketchup-laden prints leading from the library.

Oh, I see, she said. He is quite a dumb dragon.

Yes, quite dumb, I said. Tell me again how handsome I am.