Dragons were terrifying beasts. Well, usually they were. Usually they would snap their jaws and snort their smoke and breathe their ferocious jets of fire at any who got within range. Their spiky tails, sharp claws, leathery wings and hard scales did nothing but make the already intimidating creatures all the more terrifying. Spike, however, was different. He had been born and raised in pony society. He had manners, he was polite. Spike knows that, above all else, ponies are his friends. He was no mindless hoarder of gemstones (although he never could say no to a good feed of turquoise), no barbaric dweller of caves. Spike was a dragon of class, of sophistication. He was a gentlemanly dragon; a gentledragon.
Spike loved nothing more than knowing how appreciative Twilight Sparkle and her friends were of his kind ways; of his consideration; of his helpfulness. Never does he ask for or expect reward; he simply does all he can to make the life of his friends as pleasant as possible. Sure, there was that time he drank all the punch while watching the meteor shower, or that time he sneezed on Twilight's book, or that time he kept fooling around while cleaning up the parasprites, or that time that he... Never mind all that, nopony is perfect after all. The point is that Spike, despite his previous, exceptionally insignificant mistakes, is a courteous and gentle soul. He would never deliberately harm his friends, he loved them too much.
Of course, things do not always go well for Spike. The problem with being the one always giving the love, respect and appreciation is that you seldom feel equally esteemed. There were times when the day was long, the work was hard and his efforts throughout the day were unfruitful, and as a result he wanted nothing more than to lie curled up in his basket and shed a silent, subtle tear. He knew he was loved by Twilight, but sometimes, given her ever busy days, she forgets to show it, or goes about it poorly. He doesn't blame her, however. As is the way of the gentledragon, he simply lets her go about her day and accepts praise when it is given to him, but never will he ask for it.
Spike accompanied Twilight on a visit to Canterlot. It had been some time since Celestia had seen her student, and she simply wanted a relaxing day with her beloved pupil. To pass the time, he decided to pay Pony Joe a visit at the donut parlour. And so there he sat, chewing slowly at a donut and sipping at a cup of daffodil tea. The music was light and calming, the lighting was dim and the overall atmosphere was one of utmost relaxation, causing Spike to delve into the world of reminiscence. He remembered the only occasion his negative emotions got the better of him; it was a day or so after the time he sneezed on Twilight's book. Owlowicious, once his rival and arch-enemy, now his friend and fellow assistant, had been the cause.
The night had been a cold one, and the wind slapped anypony it could with a harsh, icy hand. It had blown with the force of a small gale, knocking open windows and causing a most unsettling whistle. One of Twilight's papers had blown through the open library window, and then along he came. Owlowicious, Twilight's little watcher of the night, had carried it to her, through the harsh cold of the wind's frosty fingers. Spike had despised him at first and jealousy took root deep within his heart as he found himself unable to deal with the very thought of being replaced, as absurd as it had been. In his envy, which was greener than the spines on his back, he had resorted to falsely accusing Owlowicious of murdering an innocent mouse. In hindsight, he should have known that Twilight would see through his lies.
Spike put his cup of tea down, and asked for another donut. One last sweet for the road never hurt anypony. He decided that he needed to give Twilight a gift. His jealous feelings were long gone now and all that was in the past, but he felt that he had never properly apologised. Pony Joe handed him the donut, and Spike smiled at him, taking it with thanks. He stood and made his way towards the door. Two young mares were walking towards the parlour, and Spike held the door for them. He wasn't given any recognition by the pair, but he didn't mind. Spike never asked for nor expected thanks or appreciation. He walked for the nearest jeweller with his head held high and with a smile on his face. He knew Twilight didn't really wear jewellery, but he felt that a beautiful mare such as her needed at least one accessory to accentuate her good looks, and he felt that he needed to be the one to buy it for her. Such was the way of the gentledragon.