The Dragon's Notebook: Scaled Tower

In only a matter of days, Spike's weariness began to show. Sleepless nights accompanied the hurricane of emotions flooding his mind and soon the simple act of preparing pancakes became a workout. Twilight's leering eyes scanned the swaying body and by that point, Spike didn't bother hiding his distress.

“Spike, the pancakes smell like... well, like mine,” Twilight giggled. Her horn lit up and a spark burst in front of Spike's eyes, dragging the dragon out of his daze. “Just a heads up.”

Spike's eyes fluttered for a moment, the charred scent invading his nostrils. To him, it was heaven, a would-be bliss for his taste buds. But throwing out the wasted charcoal discs? Twilight was just the kind of pony to toss out such a delicacy. To her, no nutritional value could be found, let alone anything remotely tasty. Spike had argued the point in the past but to no avail.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Spike slurred with a shake of his head. With a single motion, he grabbed the pancake handle and flung it across the kitchen into a garbage bin. Setting the pan back on the element, Spike scooped up his homemade pancake batter and poured the ladle onto the hot metal. With a sizzle, the batter began to cook. “Hey, why don't you go get started on your assignment? I don't need babysitting for my daily job.”

Two lavender eyes kept their Sherlock scan going in hopes of Spike's body language to give way to any answers but watching her tired dragon assistant continually nod off, she could only shrug. After all, his attitude would only worsen if he was bothered.

“Alright, but if you need me, just give me a shout,” Twilight stated as she trotted out of the crystal kitchen.

No response could be made. Soon, there was only the soft sizzle of the batter to keep Spike company and quickly, he found the lack of Twilight's humming and tapping to be infinitely worse. In a matter of seconds, his brain fogged and his eyes stared at the bubbles amassing on the pancake. Recognizing the stage it was at, he flipped it over revealing a perfectly tan flat. Grumbling, he grabbed the pan and flipped the flapjack once more and glared at the surface of the uncooked side. In a matter of seconds, Spike flipped the pancake back and relished the sight of a charred pancake once more. Twilight wasn't going to stop him from enjoying his favourite forbidden snack.

Yet the sight of the charred black pancake never quite sat well with Spike. For some reason, it caused a sick feeling in his gut. Blinking and fighting the urge to gag, Spike sniffed the air for the aroma of charcoal and while that didn't trigger any disgust, once his eyes locked onto the pancake it came back once more. The black seemed to mock him and instead of enjoying the pancake as is, once again he flung the charred piece across the kitchen into the trash.

After their (non-burnt) pancake breakfast, Twilight sauntered off to a meeting where she would delegate something or other, Spike really didn't pay any attention. In a palace shaded by blue and purple, black always seemed to stand out more. A crumpled wrapper, perhaps a mess of papers muddied and, in the words of Twilight, “disgraced” by a thick black ink stain. A quick waltz through the library and suddenly, the spines of black books seemed to attack Spike's retinas from every angle and with little further prompting, Spike was reminded of the presence of a black notebook resting in his gut.

“Come on, don't do this now, I had a nice day planned,” Spike grumbled, rubbing his gut and his temples. “Besides, Rarity's probably too downtrodden to try dating again.”

Resting upon a chair in the castle library, Spike felt the cushion underneath him in a different way; it was now uncomfortable regardless of how he marvelled at it's softness upon Twilight returning with it. His claws scratched at the crystal armrests and he sighed.

“Blueblood did deserve it. He ruined her night.” Tapping his claw against the hard surface, he hummed to the click-clack sound. “What about past flings?” His tapping stopped and he furrowed his brow. “What about the rest of the girls? Is it fair that I only treat Rarity with my utmost care? My heart yearns for her but remains restrained by this feeble mind and body, that of a child. But while I would do anything for her, what about Twilight? Maybe she hasn't dated, but she has enemies. Those who denied her in the past, and what about my other friends?”

It was silent in the castle save for the echoing sound of a flapping owl; somewhere, Owliscious was keeping himself busy. Spike's mind wandered to the rules of the Death Note and he recalled it mentioning ponies; did it stop just there? If so, Owliscious—

“What am I thinking?” Spike slapped himself on the forehead, groaning. “He's only wronged me, and it was still just me being jealous. Even if it wasn't wrong, I can't be petty and selfish. This isn't for my own good, it's for theirs. But, those guys did try to steal those phoenix eggs... it wouldn't be selfish of me in that instance.”

There was no response from the castle. Even if it was mildly sentient, or at least the table was, it would not tell him what to do. Spike couldn't talk to anyone, it was entirely him and he grunted in response. Once again, in his mind he played the scene of Blackhoof thrashing around just to realize what it was he'd be doing.

“Sweet Celestia,” Spike muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Your highness, you called?”

A lone guard stood after a quick bow, his day princess perched atop her throne. Princess Celestia's eyes wandered towards the stained glass windows depicting the various exploits of her former student and friends. There was a single portrait of her and her sister defeating Discord thousands of years prior. But none of her nephew. The only thing to remember him by would be his living space, memory and various, often empty obituaries. He was vain but he was also family. Turning her attention to the guard, she finally spoke.

“Yes, please send for my sister. I wa—must speak with her at once,” she softly spoke.

“Of course, your highness,” the guard quickly responded before placing his helmet atop his head.

As he galloped away, Celestia's eyes once again turned towards the stained glass windows. The jagged, blocky depiction of Luna softened her heart and her sister's antics played out through her memories. The Castle of the Two Sisters, formerly her primary residence, still has many working traps and tricks throughout its corridors. Canterlot may be her kingdom's capital, but it never felt like home. With Luna present, it was that much closer, but she couldn't truthfully set up pranks and traps throughout without some poor cleaner or guard to trigger it.

A sparkle flared next to her and Luna appeared after a blue flash of light. Her mane, although impossible to frazzle, still drooped having been harrowed by sleep deprivation and lack of care. Luna's eyelids sagged and she blankly leered ahead with half-lidded eyes. Craning her neck, Celestia could almost hear the gears creaking as her sister met her gaze.

“Whaaat?” Luna cried.

“My apologies, I know you're supposed to be sleeping, but—” Celestia's horn lit up and her crown lifted from atop her head, resting on the floor between the thrones. “I wanted to see my sister and I truthfully could not wait until dusk.”

Luna's eyes opened up and she seemed to roll her eyes, but instead wound up yawning. Smacking her lips, she wiped gunk seeped into her tear ducts and licked her dry lips. Celestia watched, hiding a smirk as her sister fought off sleep.

“Couldn't you just watch me sleep like a normal pony?” Luna barked as she slouched on her throne.

“Ponies don't do that unless wed, Luna. Not anymore,” Celestia responded.

Her sister's eyes shot open and her eyes fluttered for a brief moment. “Um, good thing you're a heavy sleeper,” Luna muttered.

“Anyways, I simply could not take the silence any longer. Nothing to delegate, oversee or command and for some reason, I am drawing a blank when it comes to ideas to pass the time. I had decided to bug you,” Celestia responded as her horn let loose the thick drapes for the windows lighting her throne.

“You have achieved your mission, may I return to my chambers?” Luna scoffed. “Perhaps I could return to my previous dream in that instance.”

“While it is true I wanted to speak to you, there was something that bugged me. While my paranoia knows no bounds, during the funeral procession for my—our nephew, my magic picked up something.” Luna pushed herself up into a proper sitting position upon hearing those words, her eyes fully open, Celestia now with her full attention. “I had been scanning for any Changelings, given the events surrounding the Royal Wedding, I've done so for every major event. And tho no Changelings came up, instead, I found something dark, something... sinister. It wasn't something Discord had picked up, and I do not think it was a living being. But there was definitely a presence. One I could not place but I felt it before.”

“A presence; was it anything like the Elements of Harmony, something more grounded and earthly? Perhaps you only picked up the strong emotions. Emotions can be the cause of some rather... dark and powerful magic,” Luna stated with remorse dripping from her words. “Perhaps not jealousy, but sadness and dread. Perhaps the collective amongst the ponies was enough, if but a moment, for such a dark presence to be felt.”

With a gentle shake of her head, Celestia sighed and her horn lit up once more. Once again, a guard cantered in, methodically removing his helmet as he bowed.

“Your high—”

“Tea. Please,” Celestia called, her eyes not once opening to meet the guards.

“Of course, your highness.” And he sped off once more.

“My magic does not pick up on emotions or magic spawned from emotions, otherwise I would be able to pick up on Cadence's love spell. No, this was something alive, but not our definition of alive. Like it was from another dimension. I felt something similar when I came into contact with our alternate selves from the mirror.” With a hum, she tapped her chin. “Perhaps it's similar to a dream. You can traverse between the dreams of ponies, you can sense them, perhaps it is like that. It is not quite real, but at the same time, it is. I had considered the possibility that somepony had fallen asleep and I was picking up their dream. Dreams are often the slave to emotions and memories. But I do not think so.”

“I agree, nopony was asleep at the funeral. I did not pick up on such a presence myself, but perhaps I could look into it. If you still have the list of all whom attended the funeral, my powers of the dream could be used to look into the matter.” Celestia nodded in response and Luna continued, “How many were there?”

“Just under five hundred,” Celestia responded.

The silence hung until a pony with a trolley wheeled in the requested tea. Before she could approach the two sisters, Celestia's magic levitated the tray carrying the cups, tea and various other assets.

“Thank you,” she called out from across the great hall.

The maid stopped to bow before retreating with said trolley. Luna retrieved her own cup from the trolley as Celestia sat it next to their crowns and steaming hot tea was poured into both. Celestia took care to add an artificial sweetener while Luna loaded hers with sugar cubes, making the drink more of a sugar with tea rather tea with sugar.

“I will rule out Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Were they all present?” Luna asked, taking a long gulp of her hot beverage. She then spat it out, having realized the temperature.

“Her five pony friends as well as Spike were present. There is no need to check their dreams. I have no doubt in my mind that they would not have anything to do with what I sensed.” Celestia then daintily sipped her tea, eyeballing her sister while Luna glared. Luna then did the same, staring daggers all the meanwhile. Celestia couldn't stop a giggle from coming out. “Careful now.”

“Relax, if I of all ponies could not handle a little heat, I would not be able to be anywhere near your cranium,” Luna spat with a sip.

“Did you just call me a hot head?” Celestia asked with a bit of puzzlement etched into her tone.

Two green eyes scanned the rules of a little black notebook. Under candlelight, Spike sat in a dark, empty room far away from Twilight's bedroom. Taking a note from his former caretaker, he scanned every page numerous times to get a feel for the rules. Having been certain some of it stuck, Spike slapped the covers shut and curled up into a ball on the crystal floor. He never once bothered himself with getting a blanket or cushion. His eyes burned and stung from the drowsiness caressing his body. Several times he had yawned but he didn't want to sleep. Not just yet. If he was going to take his new mission seriously, he had to learn to suffer for it. How could he protect his friends and loved ones if he couldn't handle a little sleep?

Smacking his lips, he ran his claws along the cover of the book, feeling the leathery texture beneath him. It felt like an ordinary book. Looks could be deceiving, though. With several rules in his mind, he rolled onto his back and relished the cool crystal floor. It brought relief that he couldn't find during the day. Maybe it was a fever induced by his lack of care for himself; he hadn't eaten and he heard that sometimes, one's own mood could induce fever-like symptoms. Twilight dismissed it as a fact but didn't outright deny that it was entirely impossible. One or two cases in all of recorded history were plausible, in her words.

The relief was short-lived. Soon, a feeling of dread entered his mind, no, it broke down the front door and spat on his couch. He gagged and rolled onto his side, hacking up a little fluid and a half-eaten gem. The taste of acid lingered on his tongue and Spike groaned, not bothering to move from where he caused the tiny puddle.

“Good grief,” he muttered. “Reasoning with my conscious isn't good enough, apparently.”

Pounding his fist against the floor several times, he sighed and spat out a small plume of fire onto the small puddle below him. “Good game, flame,” he muttered.

After the fire died out, all that was left was a sanitized floor and a gem. He would not eat it, however. Even to him, that was disgusting; birds could do that all they want. Alongside his thoughts, a small hoot echoed and Spike looked up, finally pushing himself upright as Owliscious floated into the room. Quickly, Spike rolled over and spat a fire over the book and it disappeared, once more resting inside his gut. The owl then landed where it was and he dropped a scroll.

“Huh? Twilight can't get messages,” Spike muttered. Upon unravelling it, he sighed. “'Spike, sleep. -Twilight'. Fine, I'll go to bed.”

Spike pushed himself to his feet and sauntered off, leaving the owl to tilt its head in his direction. With a flap of its wings, it flew towards Spike and perched itself atop his head.

“Lead the way, predator of rodents.”