Utter stillness permeated the area as the eight ponies looked at each other: or at least, seven ponies. The eighth pony was not a pony, but a dragon, a dragon that none of the others had seen or heard from in quite a few years. It was as if he had simply disappeared off the face of the planet, falling into the starry skies like the tales of sailors about a flat Earth. He did not look too well, given the circumstances.

“Twilight? Is it really you?” were the only words Spike was able to say before he fell over, the six mares barely managing to catch him before he hit the ground.

“Who is he?” Prince Blueblood asked, standing over the unconscious dragon with a mixture of pity, concern and slight disgust etched into his features. “Do you know this... dragon?”

“Yes, sir,” Twilight said, helping the others turn Spike over so his head rested in her lap. He let out a soft snore: out cold, it seemed. “He is, or should I say, was a close friend of ours for many years, and my partner in many of my endeavors when we were younger.”

“Partner?” Blueblood asked, raising an eyebrow. “By partner, do you mean...?”

“What? No!” Rarity interjected, having drawn the correlation between Blueblood’s question and his silence. “He was almost like a brother to her, and I must remind you, sir, that he was a very good friend to all of us. He was with us through many dangers and was always there for us. It was a shame that he left to come alongside the sea and join a schooner for work, really, but we didn’t try and stop him. It was our fault for being so busy, but we just couldn’t keep him with us forever.”

“Well, then, what became of him? After he joined this schooner?” the prince asked, looking back down on the dragon with far less disgust and quite a bit more intrigue.

“Well... h-he kind of stopped s-sending letters,” Fluttershy said as she gently stroked the dragon’s hand, her eyes on his closed ones. Underneath the lids, they were fluttering around, as if he were in a dream: a very odd dream, judging by the way his lips kept moving. It was like he was trying to smile, snarl and talk all at the same time, but no sound came out at all.

“Well, I think you now know the reason,” Blueblood said, clapping his hands: five servants rushed up, having apparently sprung out from behind a stack of barrels. He turned to them, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Take... Spike here to the last guest bedroom in the mansion, but be very quiet about it. There’s no telling who could be watching us right now: I don’t trust those pirates.” That and he knew the scum had a series of spies working for them in his city: he just didn’t know who or where they were.

The servants nodded and gently picked up Spike, his friends looking on as he was whisked up out of their hands. His hand brushed against Rarity’s knee, and Twilight could have sworn she saw the mare flinch, not from disgust, but from concern.

“Be very careful: he seems rather fragile and we have no idea what sort of ordeal he has been through,” Blueblood added to the servants in the tone of voice that suggested he had just thought of it. “He will need to rest and recuperate, and then we can ask him what he knows.” The servants nodded once more and whisked the dragon away, carrying him aloft with noticeable difficulty. He was heavier than he seemed, but then again, that extra weight might have come from his large tail.

“Question him?” Applejack asked, turning to the prince as he began to leave the fort: the six mares followed close behind.

“Of course, Ms. Applejake,” the unicorn said, not noticing how red around the ears the mare got when he said her name wrong. “He was in the company of pirates for who knows how long. In that time, assuming he wasn’t tortured or put to back-breaking slave labor, he must have learned something about them. Plans, hiding spots, allies and spies within our own ranks, anything really: there’s no telling what he overheard or saw.”

“But... he’s half-dead or sick or something!” Rainbow Dash said indignantly. “He couldn’t even stand for very long! How in the world is he even going to be coherent enough to talk to somepony, let alone answer a bunch of questions?”

“Yes, Ms. Dash, I know that, but we mustn’t let an opportunity such as this slip through our grasp,” the prince replied, already thinking of the questions he would ask the dragon. “Locked away in his head could be the keys to solving this pirate problem and freeing our shores once again from those wolves of the sea.”

“Prince Blueblood, while I appreciate your efforts in attempting to bring this growing conflict to a complete and sudden end, I must protest,” Rarity said, Fluttershy nodding along with her words.

“Oh, really?” the prince said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes. Spike has been gone so long, and he is either very ill or very weak: possibly both, judging from how he simply fainted away,” the white unicorn said. “He needs time to recuperate, to regain his strength, and right now, what he needs is familiar faces, not a barrage of interrogating questions.”

The prince seethed internally at her brash assumptions that he would try and wring out every drop of information from the dragon, but on the outside he remained calm. She wasn’t wrong in assuming he’d do that, for the sake of security, but these six were far too close to the princesses. If any word got out of what he did, they’d immediately be in contact with his aunts and he’d be removed from the situation. Then he’d be laughed at by the upper echelons of society for letting his emotions rule his actions and losing such an important position over some dragon nobody.

“I... see your point. Very well: the six of you may visit him at your pleasure, but a fair word of warning,” the prince said, shaking his finger. “You must be very careful around him. For all we know, he could be a spy for those same pirates: I’ve seen it before.”

“Prince Blueblood, I know you have the security of the realm at heart, but trust me when I say this: Spike is the farthest thing from a spy that I can think of,” Fluttershy said, her voice sounding oddly strong and confident. Perhaps all those assertiveness lessons under her tutor Iron Will had not been a complete waste.

“Is that so?” the prince said as they finally reached the carriage that would take them the rest of the way to the mansion. The second carriage had already left, the servants and their unconscious passenger likely already back at the mansion.

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, her hands lightly balling into fists at the prince’s mildly scoffing tone. “He is not like those pirates you’ve all told us about at all: he never would be.”

“I gotta agree with Fluttershy on this, Prince Blueblood,” Pinkie Pie said, climbing into the carriage first. “I mean, he was totally nice all the time, and he always helped us with stuff, and he even helped me bake a cake for a Summer Sun Celebration! He’s nothing like those mean old pirates you’ve told us all about.”

“...right,” the prince said softly as, for the first time, he let the mares all clamber into the carriage before him. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” He didn’t really believe what she had said: she had no idea what the sea, or being held captive, could do to a pony. Or in this case a dragon: it could change you in ways you would never expect. He had seen it plenty of times in the young sailors that had come back from both: they were changed for life.

An hour passed, and once more, the six mares were staring down at their long-lost, and now found, dragon friend. The servants had been very efficient in their treatment of the unconscious dragon, having changed his tattered rags for some rather nice, if plain, clothes. He had not woken up yet, but his breathing was unlabored and his eyes were no longer rattling around in his skull: undoubtedly an improvement.

The room he had been placed in was on the upper floor of the building, with a spectacular view of the harbor and sea beyond it through an admittedly plain window. The room itself was not terribly large: more like a large closet than a spare bedroom, but it was unlikely the sleeping dragon was going to complain. For a long time he had slept in a basket in Twilight’s library, there having been no room for another bed: he had been fine with it until he outgrew it.

“Should... should we wake him?” Applejack asked, looking over the dragon with a mixture of pity and sorrow. They had all missed him dearly, but they had never truly realized just how much until he was suddenly thrust back into their midst.

“I would advise against that,” Twilight said, walking a bit closer to the bedside and sitting down softly on the edge of the covered mattress. “He’s in no condition to be woken up: we’d best let him rest a while before we speak to him in a coherent and not one-sided manner.”

“But... then what do we do now?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“I... I remember reading that those in a deep sleep, like Spike’s, can hear the words of others, but only through their dreams,” the purple unicorn said, her hand reaching for Spike’s, but she stopped herself. He looked so peaceful, his hands folded and clasped across his chest as he slept.

“So... who wants to go first?” Fluttershy asked first, glancing out the window as a flock of seagulls flew over the harbor.

“I guess I will,” Twilight said, leaning a bit closer to Spike. “Should I be formal?”

“Twilight, Spike is our friend: I am sure he’d understand if we decided to talk to him as one,” Rarity said. "But, we mustn't tally: we'll have plenty to say when he awakens, so for the time being... we must keep our hellos short."

“Well, okay,” the purple mare said, leaning slightly closer again. “Hey Spike: it’s me, Twilight Sparkle. I know you can’t talk to me now, but I just wanted to say... I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t try following up on your last letters, but please understand the burdens that were thrust upon me: on all of us. Get well soon, and we can talk it all out.” With that, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead. With that, she got up and walked away, her hoofsteps fading as she left the room.

Applejack was next: she sat a bit closer, though she removed her Stetson bonnet hat as held it over her chest. “Hey Spike,” she whispered, her lips only a few inches from his ear. “It’s me: Applejack. I don’t know if y’all can hear me, but please: get well soon. We’ve got lots to catch up on.” She kissed the dragon softly on his left cheek and then left the bedside, putting her hat back on as she joined Twilight outside of the room.

Rainbow Dash was next, and with a grace and dignity she never showed her parents or the public, she sat down on Spike’s bed, opposite from where Twilight and Applejack had sat. “Hey, Spike, just thought I’d say that it’s good to see you again,” the blue pegasus said, her volume slightly above that of a whisper. “We’re gonna have lots to catch up on, so get better soon, you hear?” Hesitantly, as if struggling to make a decision, she gave him a light peck on his right cheek. With a flutter of her wings, she was off the bed, almost floating away as she followed the first two well-wishers out of the room.

Pinkie Pie was next, somehow doing a complete flip over the bed and landing softly next to Spike, her impact barely making the sheets ruffle around where she landed. “Heya Spike, it’s been a long time since we got to talk,” she whispered into his ear, her words tumbling out of her mouth faster than cupcake could go in it. “You’ve missed out on a whole bunch of parties, and there was cake, and ice cream, and we played games, and-,”

“Pinkie Pie, you’re rambling again, my dear,” Rarity whispered.

“Oh, yeah: sorry about that Spike,” the pink pony whispered into the sleeping dragon’s ear, smiling at her own mistake. “Well, seeya later Spike: get better soon, okay?” Instead of a kiss, Pinkie lightly nuzzled the dragon’s nose before hopping away, her lightly bounding hoofsteps barely making a noise.

Fluttershy motioned for Rarity to go next, but the unicorn shook her head. “I would like to be last, dear,” the white mare said, taking a step back and looking out the window. It was a rather beautiful view, though hers, a view of the rolling countryside that lay beyond the borders of the city, was no less splendid to look upon.

Fluttershy nodded softly, gently making her way to the dragon’s side. Smoothing out her dress, she sat down where Rainbow Dash had, sinking slightly into the soft sheets. Reaching up with one hand, she gently placed it over one of Spike’s folded hands, gently caressing the smooth scales. He did not look particularly unwell, in her eyes, but there was a hardness to his features that she did not remember. Perhaps it was all that time out at sea, or under the “care” of those pirates. Whether it was one or the other, she did not know.

“Spike, it’s me: Fluttershy,” she whispered softly, her words barely loud enough for herself to hear. “I... I’m sorry we didn’t send you letters. I know you were working very hard out here, and we were glad for you, but... things just got so difficult back at home. When you stopped sending letters in return, we... I mean, I thought you were just upset with us not responding to them. We... we never imagined anything like this had happened. Just... please get better, okay?” She glanced over at Rarity, who seemed particularly interested in the framework of the window. Looking back to Spike, she leaned over and gently brushed her lips against the left corner of his mouth, not feeling brave enough to go all the way.

Rising to her hooves, she turned back to Rarity. “I’m done,” she said softly, walking away: her wings trailed behind her, the feathers brushing softly against the back of her dress. Rarity turned, as if to say something, but decided against it: there would be another time, another place to say it.

She at last turned to Spike, unsure if to walk over to where he was or simply talk where she was standing, as if he were awake and it was a normal conversation. But if she did talk where she stood, then there was the chance he wouldn’t hear her, and that was a chance she couldn’t bear to take. Walking over and sitting opposite of where Fluttershy had sat, she settled herself down on the crisp, clean sheets. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, she was content, at least, to simply sit there for a few short minutes.

“Spike,” she said softly, unsure of how to word what she was feeling. Joy at seeing him again, anger at what those pirates might have done to him, fear of what he might say about how they had all fallen out of contact or not even looked for him: it was all so confusing. So, instead, she chose to reach up and gently stroke the side of his cheek. “I’m... I’m sorry, Spike. You must know by now we all terribly missed you, but we had no idea what you were doing out here. I had no idea you were ever in any danger, and... I’m sorry. I’m sorry we let our responsibilities take hold of our lives and forsake the friendships we had with you: sorry we never tried to reestablish contact with you, or even come looking for you. I pray that, somewhere in your heart, you can forgive us. Please, please come back to us Spike.”

Leaning over, her mane dangling around her face, Rarity kissed the corner of Spike’s mouth, softly and in an entirely lady-like manner. About to rise to her hooves, she looked at his closed eyelids, almost trying to will them to open, but it was to no avail. Sighing, she turned and left, the door slowly shutting behind her. As the tumbler clicked shut, Spike’s unconscious form was once again all alone, the soft breeze coming though the cracked-open window carrying with it the smell of the sea.

Unseen to all but the room itself, the corners of Spike’s mouth curved upwards ever-so-slightly.

Meanwhile...

“I’m going to regret not trying to question him immediately: I know it,” Blueblood said, sipping his tea with Geoffrey high up in the main conference room. The map that showed the seas and coastline was still there, as detailed as ever, and even now, Blueblood would hopelessly cast his eyes upon, hoping to find an answer to his problems. The map, as maps were most likely to do, remained silent.

“Why do you say that, sir?” the butler asked, pouring himself a cup of the fine-brewed tea. Now, when all other business was done and dealt with, was when Blueblood actually allowed himself the pleasure of conversing with his butler on a more informal level, even though Geoffrey preferred to remain the consummate professional.

“Quite a few reasons, actually,” the prince said, his hand passing over the marker on the map where the city of Port Royal lay. “If he is damaged, mentally anyway, the healing part of his brain could cloud up or repress his memories. We would lose immediate access, and you know as well as I do: interrogating him would bring us nothing but grievances and severe repercussions.”

“This dragon: Spike, was it? You said he has a connection to the six mistresses currently residing with us,” the butler said, sipping his tea thoughtfully. “Is this connection the reason why you won’t let anypony try and question him in detail?”

“Precisely,” Blueblood said, turning away from the map lest the sight of it drive him to drink. It was maddening, to be able to see the motionless world in such clarity, and yet not be able to control it like one could a chessboard. Or see the moving, living world in all its splendor and glory: now that would be a power unlike anything he’d heard of before. “That brings me to my second point: he is a dragon, Geoffrey. He is of a race unlike ours, and though similar in many ways, he is wholeheartedly different. He can breathe fire, change his size, live for untold numbers of centuries, and yet... Celestia saw fit to have him be looked after by a mere filly at the time. I know he was raised in the castle: I remember him as a youngster myself, but now... I am unsure as to why Celestia would take such an interest in him after his hatching.”

“Perhaps she has a plan for him?” Geoffrey suggested. “He is, after all, a dragon, and could very well be a legitimate answer to a problem we have not yet encountered. Indeed, with that long lifespan of his, Celestia could have a potentially political ace-in-the-hole, should other options be less favorable or downright impossible.” Celestia was well known for making plans that often took many years to come to fruition.

“Geoffrey, your insight is astounding, even to one such as myself,” the prince said, giving his butler a rare, honest smile. “Of course: why send in a few meager pony ambassadors who fear for their lives, and instead send in a creature that could decimate a country all by itself, should such an opportunity present itself? I do believe you have “hit the nail on the head”, as the commoners say. Celestia indeed would want such a powerful creature on her side: everypony knows that very few dragons live outside their own country, or even care about the goings-on of others.”

“Nevertheless, we must indeed tread carefully,” Blueblood added, after a few moments of silence. “He is a close friend to the Elements of Harmony, is a blasted dragon, and is under the eye of Princess Celestia herself. Perhaps, to put ourselves in a better light, we should reveal his “rescue” to my aunt?”

Geoffrey said nothing for a few seconds. “I don’t know, sir,” he said, looking down into his tea like it were some crystal ball. “That might not be in your best interest, to say you rescued him.”

“And why not, Geoffrey?” the prince asked, far more curious than insulted by his butler’s comment.

“Seeing as how this was no rescue, but as a mere prisoner exchange, one might see it as you trying to take advantage of another’s suffering,” the butler said, sounding oddly sure of his words. “That, and some of the more wealthy members of society might whisper behind your back about such a “lofty accomplishment”, and it would not be a compliment, I assure you,” he added.

“Geoffrey, your insight knows no bounds,” the prince said, smiling once more. His butler may have been perhaps the greatest pony to ever come into his employ. “How did you know they would likely react in such a way?”

“I have seen it many times before, sir, and unlike those previous times, my master was not kind to me,” the butler said simply. It was true, oddly enough: of all the ponies Geoffrey had served, Blueblood was by far the kindest he had ever known. “I did not care about their ruinous rumors and problems, but I should shudder to think how your life, both personal and political, would be degraded, simply off of a few malicious rumors. That is why I do my best to try and help you avoid the mistakes so many of my previous masters have.”

“Geoffrey, I cannot thank you enough,” Blueblood said, just as the small clock on the wall began to chime. “Well, Geoffrey, I believe it is almost time for dinner: would you mind checking in with the cooks? Last time, that- oh, what was it called.....”

“Spinach and broccoli soup, with whole-wheat dumplings, sir?” the butler said. "They called it something along the lines of "gnocchis à la parisienne", I believe?"

“Yes, that: thank you, Geoffrey. Yes, last time, mine had a bit too much broccoli in it. For this meal, do you think they could even out the serving proportions a bit more?” The prince loved everything being neat and orderly: his food was just another one of those things.

“I shall get right on it, sir,” the butler said, bowing and taking with him the tea. He was gone in a few long strides, his coattails swishing behind him.

Watching the door close behind his butler, Prince Blueblood turned towards the tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room, which had mysteriously not rung as the small, wall-hanging one had. “You may come out now,” he said, his smile becoming a thin, serious line.

The clock opened, and out stepped perhaps the oddest-looking pony in the entire mansion. He wore black gloves and a very tight set of dark robes, and the monocle covering his eye only gave him a slightly less threatening expression. For underneath that monocle lay an eye, part of a pair of dark, yellow eyes that reminded the prince of a predatory bird’s. A whitish pelt, an a yellowish-white mane to match: he could have been a snowy owl of the far north, or the white phase of a gyrfalcon.

“Shall I be keeping tabs on him as well?” the pony asked, his voice deep, soft and very, very chilling. His accent was a bit thick, with him stressing his s’s and the w’s were pronounced as v’s.

“No, no, Geoffrey is entirely trustworthy,” the prince said, walking over as the other pony closed the clock behind him.

“Then why did you send him from my sight?” the white stallion asked, a small cold smile showing where his mouth was.

“I did not want him knowing of our business, and if everything goes according to plan, he will never know, nor will anypony else,” Blueblood said, the thin line of his mouth becoming a slight frown.

“What would have me do, prince?” the figure asked.

“Geralt, we have known each other for a long time, have we not?” Blueblood asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sometimes it was such a pain to deal with this stallion, but he got results, and even though they were many times bloody, they were results nonetheless.

“Yes,” the stallion replied, his cold yellow eyes scanning the room.

“And in that time, we agreed upon many things: one of them being that we refer to one another by our names?”
“Indeed,” Geralt said softly.

“Then please, tell why, in your last letter, you referred to me as “Your Highness”, after you had told me of that pirate crew’s... misfortune?”

“I was writing it in a tavern, Blueblood: you know how nosy the common folk can get about a loner pony in any establishment,” the white stallion said, his monocle glinting slightly in the sunlight.

“Yes, yes: I know that. Still it irks me, that for a spy, cutthroat and many other fouler titles you possess, you are usually rather punctual,” the prince said. “So please, tell me: how long do you think your task will take to complete?”

“That depends entirely upon what sort of task you are willing to give me,” Geralt said, his voice as soft as ever, though it had a slight humor in it. It was cold, black humor, blacker than the pits of Tartarus, but a slight bit of humor nonetheless.

“I want you to... keep an eye on our six guests, and our most recent one: the dragon,” Blueblood said.

“That is it? No throats to slive? No evidence to plant against your enemies? Are you going soft on me, Blueblood?” Geralt asked, more of his malice-laced humor seeping into his tone.

“Far from it: you are to do this along with your “usual” responsibilities,” the prince said, his scowl deepening. “I know there are spies somewhere in this city working for those pirates. I want you to find them, and report back to me as soon as you do.”

“Do you want me to... take care of them as well?” the spy asked, his teeth showing as he gave a most unpleasant smile.

“No, I don’t need random townsfolk turning up dead: more than usual, anyway,” Blueblood said, shaking his head. “Once found, I will have them arrested and hanged, showing everypony that piracy is a crime that is punishable by death. Aiding one is a lesser one, but the punishment will be the same.”

“Ah, I see: a “obey or else” sort of tactic,” Geralt said licking his lips slightly. “I can’t say that I agree, but I am paid to follow orders, not to question them. So tell me: I am just supposed to... follow these six mares and their dragon friend around? That is, when he awakens, I imagine?”

Blueblood did a small double-take. “How did you-,”

“Believe me, it was not easy to find a hiding spot in that room, but it was well worth it,” the spy said, intertwining his hands behind him like a school teacher talking to a foal. “Those six mares all have deep-seated feelings for the dragon: some more than others,” he added, thinking of the yellow pegasus and white unicorn mares. They were all beautiful, all right: too bad he wasn’t allowed to get... closer.

“Indeed? That is... interesting news,” Blueblood said softly, filing it away for later in his mind. “You are to stay away from them: they are far more capable of handling themselves than you think.”

“Do you take me for some common, low-life thug?” Geralt said in a mock-hurt tone. “I would never hurt any of the Elements of Harmony: Celestia would have my head on a platter in a matter of days.” There was truth in his words: Celestia did not get violent or bloodthirsty very often, but when she did, the entire world trembled in fear.

“And of their dragon friend?” the prince asked, arching an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“Him? Oh, he would undoubtedly be a challenge, given his ancestry,” the pony said, his accent making him sound even more threatening. “I will... restrain myself around him, though if he confronts me, I will not hesitate to put him down.”

“Let us hope it never comes to that: he still may yet have some usefulness, and until I deem him a dangerous threat, you are to leave him alone as well.” The prince did not care for the dragon, but he knew a potential tool when he saw one.

“And of your aunts?” the spy asked, his leer deepening. A sudden change in the atmosphere of the room made him realize, deep inside his mind, that he had made a grave mistake. The prince’s calm surface gave way to wild-eyed, furious glare that, if he were not made of sterner stuff, would have made Geralt soil himself.

“If I ever assign you to anything with my aunts, it will be to protect them with your very life,” the prince hissed, his voice sounding deadly. It was odd, to be sure: nopony thought of Blueblood as being a physical threat, but he was a unicorn, and in his time traveling to various ports around world as a diplomat, he had learned several... interesting spells. “My aunts are never to be threatened, you hear me? Ever: should I catch wind of you doing anything suspicious near them, I will expose you and end your life. An earth pony such as yourself must surely understand what I can do with my magic.”

“Yes,” Geralt said, suppressing the urge to gulp.

The prince turned away, his rage disappearing behind a cool, polite mask. “Leave: don’t return unless you have what I want.” The spy bowed and left, his robes swirling behind him as he disappeared into the secret passage that led through the grandfather clock.

"Bastard," Blueblood muttered under his breath. A necessary evil, Geralt was, but an evil nonetheless.

Author's Note

Aha, I'm such a bastard. Writing four different stories at once, and I've still not seen a significant decrease in my ability to write them all separately! Oh, if only I were a better writer, I could churn out better chapters faster, but for me, greatness is equaled by time and effort.

So, what do you think so far?