Thank you to everyone who reviewed or read this story! It means a lot!
Oh yeah, and I'm assuming they don't have muskets in Equestria. What they do have is pie cannons. Which therefore allows me to lower the rating to K. *thumbs up*
PART II
She did not come in the morning, she did not come at noon,
And out of the golden sunset, before Luna rose the moon,
When the path was a dressmaker's ribbon, looping the grassy moor,
A pegasi troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
Celestia's guards came marching, up to the library's said no word to the librarian, they tore her books instead,
But they gagged her assistant and tied him to the foot of his little bed.
Two of them stood at the window, with pastry catapults at their side!
There was pie at every window;
And pain at one dark window;
For Spike could see, through the casement, the road Pinkie would ride.
They had tied him up to attention, with familiar white and violet lace;
They had bound a cannon beside him, with a pie aimed towards his face!
"Now, keep good watch!" they teased him.
Spike heard his equine say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to you by moonlight, nothing will scare me away!
He twisted his claws behind him, but all the knots were tight!
Through the night he writhed and stretched, and would not give up the fight.
His claws strained against the knots till morning would soon be nigh.
And now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of his finger touched it. The button to launch the pie!
The tip of one finger touched it, but he left the cannon in place.
Up, he stood to attention, the pastry still aimed at his face,
He would not risk their hearing, he would not strive again;
For the path lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And his heart, pounding in the moonlight, beat to his love's refrain.
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? Her horse-hooves ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf, could they not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the grassy hill,
The baker's girl came trotting,
Trotting, trotting!
The royal guards looked to their pastries. Spike stood up, straight and still!
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the darkness of night!
Nearer she came, and nearer! She knew not of the coming fright!
Spike's eyes grew wide for a moment; he wished for a last embrace,
But he moved his claw in the moonlight,
Pressed the button in the moonlight,
The baker's girl fled in the moonlight. Spike had warned her, with a pie to his face.
She turned and galloped West, moving fast and completely unwary
Of who stood in the library's top floor, drenched with crust and cherry.
Not till the morning she heard it, her eyes lost glow to hear
How Spike, the librarian's assistant,
The librarian's dragon assistant,
Had watched for his love in the moonlight, and got pied in the darkness there.
Back, she ran like a lunatic, wanting only to avenge her friend,
With the dust kicked up behind her, she cared not how this would end!
Bright red was her face in the golden noon, crimson red was her matted mane,
When they took aim and fired on the highway,
The pies coming down on the highway,
And she lay in the cherries on the highway, the crumbly crust and the vivid red stain.
And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind blows the apple trees,
When the moon is a lunar princess walking through cloudy seas,
When the path is a ribbon of moonlight over the grassy moor,
A baker's girl comes trotting—
Trotting—trotting—
A baker's girl comes trotting, up to the library's door.
Over the cobbles she clatters and clangs in the library yard,
She tries the front door and the back, but all is locked and barred;
She hums a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the librarian's dragon assistant,
Spike, the librarian's assistant,
Holding a lighted candle, waiting for his mare.