Hunting Season

Two figures sat in an atrium of the Royal Palace, a study in contrasts. The easiest to see, ironically, was the shortest, at just barely two thirds the other's height. Six foot nothing but dangerously strong despite it, Barb the Dragon, Number One Assistant to Princess Twilight Sparkle, known as Great and Honorable Barb the Brave and Glorious in the Crystal Empire, and other such titles, was frequently underestimated by foes of Equestria-- to their peril.

Strong, immensely strong, even for a dragon of her age, Barb's purple body was ripped, muscles bulging and toned with powerful definition, even at rest, from her killer quads and bulging calves to her terrifying triceps and biceps, huge forearms and a massive, spiked tail, green spines with her trademark barbs running up and down the length of her back and tail, with lighter green earblades. The fact that only "Big" Macintosh Apple among the hypers was known to be stronger than her, and a small number of strange standouts in her own class should have warned people to keep an eye on the now-young-adult dragoness.

Sitting here and impatiently kicking her legs back and forth like any other nineteen year old being forced to wait upon the whims of others, Barb's impatience was clear. She might have seemed a dangerous foe in other contexts, with sharp teeth and deadly claws, feline, focused eyes. It wasn't helping her case-- unless she was deliberately trying to look adorable, despite her protests-- that she was sitting on one of the benches meant for hyper ponies one to three feet taller than she, in the literal shadow of her larger companion but still the more visible of the pair. She snorted a bit, huffing a bit of glittering smoke and slamming her elbows onto her bulging quads, both palms under her chin.

The fact that she was usually in the shadow of bigger, buffer, more badass alicorns might have had something to do with the fact that even her signature super-flames which had impressed no lesser authority than Dragon Lord Ember tended to garner her little respect. It might also have been due to the unfortunate aspect of her life as a somewhat clumsy baby being on display, and perhaps the deliberate attempts to convince ponies that a dragon, a member of one of the few species that could threaten Equestria's mighty defenses, could live among them harmlessly. Whatever it was, Barb, having only defeated one of her sin metamorphosis phases, was consistently crabby about being treated as a child, though her devotion to Twilight, Rarity, and the other alicorns was, if anything, all the greater.

Her chosen attire for today didn't help much, either. Though she'd never admit it, Barb's frustrations with her not-quite relationship with Rarity had driven her to minor acts of "rebellion," at least in the terms of fashion! Instead of the knee-length kick-pleated dress and jacketed suit combination that Rarity had made her for formal occasions, Barb was wearing a loose tank-top that barely covered her D-cup bra and a pair of loose grey athletic shorts that simply did not match her khaki Daring Do hoodie. Around her throat, she wore a necklace with two charms-- one with Twilight's cutie mark, one with Rarity's.

"Look, I said I was sorry," rumbled a deep male voice from right beside her. He was at that three feet taller maximum, but taking up space meant for two of his oversized kin, head and horn slumped forward, wings flat against his back in pegasi socially-defensive posture. Black velvet, interrupted only by the badge of a silver bunny over his left pec, rippled over a muscled expanse everywhere, managing to somehow be even more ripped and chiseled proportionally than Barb-- which may have contributed to her crankiness, aside from whatever incident she was concerned with at the moment.

The velvet, from a distance, beautifully tailored with the recognizable work of the premiere Fashion Princess herself, was really the most interesting thing about him. Matte black hide and a scruffy black mane and tail; even the horn and wings seemed to blend into the background. Not enough that he wouldn't be noticed or something else a soon to be eighteen year old might find cool, but just enough that the reason he'd stand out from the crowd would only be his sheer mass and height. Even his eyes were just a sort of soft brown.

Barb glared up at him. "You still haven't told me what's bothering you, jerk!" she told him with the sort of weak vituperation and harsh tones that young adults save for close friends. She leaned over and prodded him in the ribs, claw retracted to avoid damaging her beloved Rarity's handiwork. "C'mon, I'm the older friend!" No fair keeping secrets, Hopper! Even though she was close enough to see why Twilight vaguely thought Hopper was tolerably cute-- those muscles were impressive, and unlike many of the Six, Barb knew Hopper had worked for his, and the eyes, doing their best puppy dog impression that was not going to sway her, were kinda neat. But, yeesh, he's got no call to be clamming up on me like this!

He sighed and leaned on one of his own palms, elbow against his far thigh from Barb. "By a year, Barb!"

"Still counts, bunnybutt!" Take that, dude. I may be small and purple, but at least I don't have a widdle cutesy-wootsy bunny wabbit branded onto my butt cheeks. Even Rarity giggles at it when she tries to come up with clothes incorporating your mark!

Hopper glared at her, and in turn, she made a pair of rude gestures in return, closing her eyes and sticking out her elongated tongue. Double aces, hah! "Look, Barb…" He grumbled a bit, and ran his fingers back through his mane, trying-- and failing-- to get some semblance of order to the wild mop. "I've got some obligations I have to come to terms with – payment for the fosterage," he explained. "Coming due … tomorrow, basically."

Raising an eyeridge, she asked, "Uh-huh. C'mon. Payment? Like what?"

"I have to perform certain services."

Barb's glare deepened. "Services?" What are we, the Moofiya now? Out loud, she only said, "So, what, you get a magic coffee table to lug around for a while?"

Hopper sighed, kicking his gigantic size thirty feet around. "Not that easy, Barb. I have to come to terms with some realities that … well, I'm going to have to see where my principles, you know, and…" He trailed off, grinding his fists along the pants of his thighs.

She ran her fingers along her crest and spines and said, "You don't think the Astral Princesses are gonna ask you to do something bad, do you?" Her voice spiked higher in shock at the idea. No fucking way! Not… Not Celestia, and not Luna! He's got to be on some crazy bad grass for his salad-- or did I get the wrong mushrooms again? Barring formal dinners and festivities, she still insisted on cooking for their small household, even over their recent two year tour of allied and neutral nations.

"Nah," Hopper said, shaking his head before continuing, "I trust them. How could I not? But it's … complicated."

Barb narrowed her eyes, slit pupils focusing skeptically on the oversized stallion. "Dude. I said. No. More. Secrets. We're pals. Friends. We share comic book collections, dude, c'mon!"

"Barb, you want to be a knight, right?"

She shrugged. "Yep. I'd be one, too, if I didn't have to follow your oversized hind end around the world for the last two years," she said confidently. "There's a tournament coming up in a few months." A long, happy sigh escaped her reptilian lips. "Rarity's letting me carry her favor!"

"Congratulations, Barb. You've earned it. So-- you know. Knights and ladies and countesses and counts, right?"

She yawned, exposing a mouthful of daggerlike fangs. Oh, Celestia, please, dude, don't try to deflect me with some boring history lesson, colt. You won't get me napping that easily! "Uh-huh. Sure, yes, I can recite the whole table of ranks for every country we've been in and at least five of our enemies." Or Twilight would make me listen again.

"It's… well. Duties, you see, and obligations-- uh. Alliances, right? Like we were going on?"

She fought to keep both eyes open, and settled on one, stretching her long, thick legs out and wriggling her bare toes. She could 'flop in lava; shoes weren't really her thing, you know? "Uh-huh. Yeah. Am I supposed to believe that the Sisters are what, going to have you whack a stubborn jackass in the Asinian Senate or kneecap some bull who's bein' a pill in Minos?"

Hopper buried his face in his hands again. "Sheesh, Barb, you're not usually this bloody-minded! No, I don't have to kill or permanently injure anyone!"

"Permanently?"

"Barb!"

"Fine, fine. I think you may be overthinking this. Just tell ol' Barb what the problem is. Let me do the thinking for your dumb colt head."

"... You get nothing."

"That's what you think!"

Thankfully, the Palace grounds had been created and spelled by Celestia over the centuries to withstand invasion, treachery, and of late, her favorite roughhousing with her sister. Hopper only had to embarrassedly explain a few minor dents and chunks missing when Celestia's hoofmaidens came by to explain that Twilight would be late in council with Celestia, and then retiring to her rooms directly afterwards.