Rogue Dragon

There was a knock on the door that echoed through the candle-lit room.

To most, the simple knock of something hard on wood didn't' say much. But to Celestia, sitting on a cushion as she read the latest report from Luna's Astronomers, it was practically a photo of the doorway outside. The knocker was alone. Shorter than a pony. Uneasy. Had knuckles. Wasn't announced, wasn't stopped. Someone familiar, friendly.

She cast an eye at the clock. But business at this hour, that he couldn't ask Twilight about?

"Good evening, Spike," she said, rolling the scroll up again.

Spike cleared his throat, masking his surprise, and pushed the door open. There was a padding of claws, and the click of the door as he closed it behind him and stepped inside.

"Princess," he said. "I... had a question I wanted to ask."

"The only poor question is an unasked question, my little dragon," Celestia said, turning around to face Spike. "What can I tell you?"

"Well," Spike said. The purple dragon had his claws behind his back, was twirling a foot on the carpet, and seemed really interested in the carpet next to it. "It's a little... but..." Spike looked up. "Where did I come from, Princess?"

Celestia blinked, unnerved. Of all the questions... "An egg, of course," Celestia answered. "As all dragons do. I'm sure you've heard the story of how Twilight got her cutie mark dozens of times by now, has she never mentioned-"

"No, no," Spike shook his head. "I know that. What I mean is... I came from an egg. And eggs have to come from somewhere, right?" Spike noticed Celestia wasn't meeting his eye anymore. "Right? I'm not some sort of magic test-tube dragon, am I?"

"No, no, of course not," Celestia said, looking back at Spike. "You had a mother, like anyone else..."

"Who was she?" Spike asked, eager. "What was she like?" Spike faltered. "...How did you wind up with my egg? Why did she give me away?"

Celestia hesitated. "She didn't... she had no choice in the matter." She looked at Spike. "Your mother was Athrale, a Greed dragon, and she died in battle six hundred years ago."

======

Six hundred years ago. Those were interesting times. In the centuries following her sister's banishment, things had... gotten out of hoof. Equestria had sneezed, and it was quite a sneeze; the entire world caught the cold, stirring up all sorts of chaos -- it was a small wonder Discord hadn't woken up then and there.

It had been a younger Celestia who sat the throne. Stronger, too, both physically and politically -- the image imprinted on the moon's surface was a subtle reminder to the world of what the Alicorn sisters were capable of, to change the working of the world at a whim. The lengths which the sole remaining sister had gone to. Held as proof that the legends were true.

Which is why it confused her subjects when she continued to sit the throne, cheek resting on gold-shod hoof, even as the distant screams of her subjects drifted in through the open doors of the throne room.

The colossal hall was wide and vast, and full enough that there was barely room for doctors to move; the sick and the wounded lay on bedrolls and stretchers. And against a wall, under an emblem of the sun and atop a raised platform of her own, Celestia watched it all, eyes glazed over as she stared impassively at the sun beyond the door.

A distant roar split the air, and scared the room into silence for a brief moment. Just in time for a stallion's quiet whisper to cut through it like a razor.

"What is she doing?"

Everypony flinched as one, looking to Celestia. She still hadn't moved an inch. But now those eyes weren't glazed over; they were alive with fire. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes spoke volumes about what she felt.

Hatred. Fury. Emotions Celestia had sworn off, that nevertheless came to the fore in that moment, her reserves of patience finally boiling away in the fires of wrath. But not at the comment.

No, she only had ears for the city of Canterlot beyond the doorway. Every scream of terror, every distant prayer, every last gasp of breath. Every moment that her subjects suffered, a debt was owed. And yet, the dragon beyond fought as a coward, hiding behind articles of peace even as she devoured a family.

"I'm a signatory of the Accords," the dragon had taunted. "To raise a hoof to me is to raise a hoof to the Draconic Hegemony!"

The treaties that had protected Equestria kept the predators at bay, but in hindsight, were poorly worded -- now they were a cage, with Celestia on the outside, and her little ponies on the inside. With the dragon.

And the infernal dragon was right. If due process wasn't observed, the Accords would be null and void. And then Equestria would become besieged by the predators of the world; ponyflesh was a forbidden delight, after all.

But due process took time, time that more and more citizens did not have. And so there was nothing Celestia could do except wait for the time she could bring the dragon to account.

Celestia blinked, and with a creak of the throne, sat forward, removing her hooves from the dents made in the floor and throne. The sun was setting, as it should; but against the wavering heat, a spot of darkness.

"Captain Burden!" Celestia called, speaking for the first time in hours.

An armored guardspony, head bandaged and foreleg in a sling, but still bearing the shoulder-cape of Celestia's Captain of the Guard, looked up from the supply sheet a doctor had presented him, and stood to attention.

"Your highness?" he asked sternly.

"Gather three score of your stallions," Celestia said.

Burden looked around. "Your highness... I don't have that many able-bodied stallions left."

"Then as many as you can who can move and hold a weapon," Celestia said. "For the glory of Equestria... you are to assault the dragon."

Multiple wounded choked as they heard the order. The silence was deep enough that the distant crumbling of a building could be heard.

Burden didn't flinch, and narrowed his one remaining eye. "You send us to our deaths, Princess," he said quietly.

Celestia closed her eyes. "I do."

Burden put down his clipboard and hobbled to stand at the foot of the stairs, and pointed at his face with his slung hoof.

"You look me in the eye, and tell me that this must be done," he demanded. "Tell me that the lives of my men are forfeit for a good reason."

Celestia stood up, and descended the stairs to stand in front of Burden; he was a large stallion, but as always, Celestia stood head and neck taller, looking down at the crippled Captain of the Guard.

"It is a mission of utmost importance; for every life risked, hundreds - thousands more can be spared," Celestia said. "Whether you live or die, your bravery will be commended and remembered eternal."

Burden scrutinized Celestia's face, and after a moment, nodded slowly. He turned around and looked at his remaining men dotted throughout the room.

"You heard the princess," he said loudly. "Lives are on the line! Thirty third, to me!"

Without a word of complaint, the soldiers picked up their spears, their swords once more. Blades warped by dragonflame, borne by stallions to match them. They gathered in centre aisle, falling in line behind Captain Burden, who stopped in the doorway and waited for the last of his men to fall in.

Burden used his magic to lift his own blade, and hold it aloft, sunlight glittering off the magically-reinforced edge.

"There's forty of us, and only one dragon!" he declared. "The odds are with us! Live forever! Glory to Equestria!"

The crippled 33rd battalion roared as one, raising their own weapons, and Burden turned to face the sun, his Captain's mantle billowing in the wind. Celestia blinked, and he was gone, his men with him.

The dragon roared; not a roar of fear, or of anger. Of amusement. A building collapsed in the distance. A screech as she was surprised. And finally, silence. Injured civilians muttering, not knowing what was at stake.

Celestia didn't bow her head. She couldn't cry. She had no more tears to shed. Burden and the 33rd had done their mission. For now, the dot against the sun was larger, approaching quicker. Unchallenged by the dragon.

A butter-yellow stallion with a windswept mane. His coat was matted with sweat, and even at this distance, Celestia could see he was exhausted, breathing ragged. She stepped into the doorway, the threshold of the throne room, and reached out with her magic.

The stallion wavered, and lost altitude violently the moment he was over castle grounds once more; Celestia pulled, and borne by the magic, his descent was halted, and turned into a gentle glide to the ground in front of the doors, where he collapsed to the ground and slid to a halt with a sigh. He didn't move, and was as a corpse, barely breathing.

Celestia knelt down to undo the stallion's saddlebags, not asking the question to save his breath. In his bags, amongst the hastily-consumed apple cores that had been supplies, a single scroll. No parchment could be more precious in this time.

"Celestia," the stallion choked. "Is it... am I...?"

"You're just in time," Celestia said. "Rest, Bolt." She clutched her scroll. "Equestria is owed justice. It is now time to collect."

Celestia extended her wings, and flexing legendary muscles, threw herself into the air, soaring out over Canterlot with almost as much speed as Bolt had when approaching, looking for the dragon.

It didn't take long; standing in the town square, surrounded by flattened buildings, a titanic purple dragoness stood; curved horns extended back over her head, and a jagged spine green spikes ran down her neck and tail.

She turned to face Celestia, ground shaking with each step, and smiled, picking her teeth with a tiny object as Celestia touched down on the shattered roof of a bell-tower. The dragoness flicked the object at Celestia, and it slammed into the tiles next to her, point first and quivering; Burden's longsword.

"Come to bargain, Celestia?" the dragoness said, sneering. "Think I will be more agreeable after a meal?"

"There's no more bargaining," Celestia said coldly. "That time has past."

"Well, unless you've a hidden fetish for being eaten alive, I cannot fathom why you would come here," the dragoness said.

"I've come to put an end to your terrorism," Celestia said. "You'll trouble my ponies no more."

"Your ponies?" The dragoness howled with laughter. "You pathetic little pony princess. I am Athrale, Dragon Lord of Greed! Everything I survey is my domain, mine to use and discard as I see fit!" Athrale leered at Celestia, fixing her with a serpentine iris. "And I can see quite a lot." She straightened, gesturing at Celestia. "You? You're nothing. Nothing more than a long-life snack that somehow scared the Hegemony into letting you sign their Accord. The very same Accord that you would break, I might remind, if there is somehow any truth to the legends surrounding you."

"Before I put an end to this, do you mind telling me why you think that?" Celestia asked politely. "I'm making notes, you see."

"Look at you!" Athrale snorted, green flame shooting into the air over Celestia. "You've not slain or even harmed a creature in hundreds of years! You don't threaten! You've voted to grant leniency to everyone who's ever come close to breaking your precious Accords!" Athrale leaned in, and poked Celestia with a talon, forcing the smaller ruler to take a step back. "If you were really half the creature the legends say you are, we wouldn't even be talking! You banished your own sister, and imprisoned her in the moon! What do you even need the Accords for?"

Celestia looked at her chest. There was a smear of dark sanguine from where the claw had brushed against her coat; blood and ashes, mixed into a white coat. Celestia wiped at it with her magic, getting most of it, and nodded.

"So, you're saying that in short, you don't believe the stories are true, and that I'm actually powerless."

"And not just me!" Athrale exclaimed. "Half the Hegemony thinks so!" Athrale jabbed her chest with a thumbclaw. "I'm just the only one with enough balls to call your bluff, Celestia. I bet you don't even really control the sun or moon!"

"Well," Celestia said, pulling Bolt's scroll out from under her wing where she'd stored it. "This has been an informative talk. Now, if you would... please take a look at this scroll."

Celestia unfurled it, and Athrale snorted, leaning in close to view it, amused. The amusement waned when she saw the seals littering the bottom of the document, and the simplicity of the resolution detailed above. The document that Bolt had almost died to assemble. The document that Burden and his men had died to draw attention from.

We, the undersigned, affirm that Athrale the Greedy and her bloodline shall no longer be recognizedas part of the Draconic Hegemony, for crimes against the Accorded nation, Equestria, and is now exempt from any and all treaties involved.

"Half, huh?" Celestia asked. "I think we're missing two or three, but poor Bolt was in a hurry."

Athrale sat upright. "T- This doesn't change anything," she said haughtily. "So what? I didn't need the Hegemony anyway. I'm here, they're not."

"You're right," Celestia said. "I thought it would, but our little talk... I see now that I've been dreadfully foolish. I shouldn't rely on the Accords to keep my little ponies safe."

Athrale grinned smugly. "Oh?"

Celestia nodded. "I just need to make an example to the rest of the world. You'll do."

Athrale opened her mouth and made to point and laugh with a claw. Except it never came, and Celestia was suddenly glowing with a violent light.

Was someone cooking bacon?

She looked down at her right claw, and saw it. On the ground, a blackened stump above the elbow where it should have been attached to her arm.

Celestia rose off the top of the building, Burden's sword in her magical grip. She twirled it with violent speed, the blade thrumming as it spun a full circle in the blink of an eye.

"Athrale the Greedy, you stand accused of two hundred and six thousand, five hundred and seventy nine counts of murder," Celestia said. "In my authority as the ruler of Equestria, I find you guilty on all counts. In my experience as a sentient being, I find you abhorrent. How do you plead?"

Athrale gritted her teeth. "Don't you have your silly justice system backwards?"

"I would have accepted "like a dog"," Celestia said, raising Burden's blade.

The sword of the Captain of the Guard was a masterpiece of magically-infused weaponry. Magically reinforced and supernaturally keen, against a mortal, pony-sized foe it was a legendary, unbeatable weapon. Against something larger, like a dragon, it was a noble weapon, but still akin to attacking someone with a sharp needle. Not terribly efficient. It would take a long time to kill a dragon-sized creature, and if such a thing were to happen, it would be extremely painful for the dragon.

Good.

"The sentence is death. Let justice be served."

======

The sun finally resumed its descent towards the horizon as dark clouds were pushed into place overhead; There was a wet squish as Celestia stepped back off what remained of Athrale. Even Burden's blade had been blunted by the ordeal.

But in the end, Athrale had paid for her greed, and would serve her debt to Equestria even in death. Any doubts about whether Celestia would brook an invasion of Equestria were put to rest, and the Pax Equestriana was guaranteed to remain intact for the next four centuries, that was for certain.

Celestia tapped her blade on the ground. Something was missing. Towards the end, Athrale had been rather intent on keeping Celestia's attention. Which meant there was something she wasn't supposed to find.

Thunder rolled overhead, and the rain started; the smouldering fires in the city were extinguished, and gutters ran black and red with ashes and blood as the cleansing began. Celestia stood still for a moment, letting the rain wash over her; her coat became a gentle pink, as she feared. It was going to take a while for that to wash out.

Celestia's eye fell on the building below the belltower she'd first landed on; a cathedral, a place of contemplation and meditation. Of all the buildings, it was the only one that remained even partially intact, and Celestia suspected it wasn't because Athrale was the spiritual kind.

Celestia threw her magic at the doors, throwing them open with a bang, and stepped inside, water dripping on the carpet with dull plap sounds as the rain began to drum on the roof. It was dark, but it didn't stop Celestia seeing what was going on.

Eggs. Dozens of them, purple flecked with darker purple patches, all almost the size of ponies. Celestia gritted her teeth. An entire generation of Greed dragons. Even if she'd abandoned Canterlot like Athrale suggested she do... it never would have ended here.

Celestia raised the blunted blade and advanced slowly. For all her hatred of Athrale, it didn't -- couldn't -- extend to her unhatched children. Her children shouldn't have to bear the sins of their mother.

Celestia brought the blade down with a crack, and there was a squelch as the egg split, half-formed creature trickling out as she started on the next egg.

It was both a precaution and a mercy. If they grew up, Athrale's brood could learn vengeance, and it would have been for naught if they threatened Equestria again. Assuming the Hegemony didn't get them first; better a swift death here before they know life, than to know what the excommunication of a bloodline meant to the Hegemony.

Celestia brought her blade down on one last egg, and pulling it free, stabbed it into the ground and leaned on it heavily.

She would never forget this, and it was a permanent blemish on her soul, no matter how she spun it. Wrath had gotten the better of her, made her no less of a monster than Athrale. But it would keep Equestria safe and at peace; and that was what mattered. Wasn't it?

And then, amidst the broken shells, her eye fell on a smaller shell, hiding amongst the wreckage. She picked it up with her magic. One more egg... but it was tiny. Barely a fraction of the size of the others, the runt of the litter. If it had been born, it surely wouldn't have lasted long. Especially not in a brood of Greed dragons.

And yet, there was a sense of destiny in this egg; a familiar feeling, not unlike the last time she had used the Elements of Harmony. A sign?

She could spare one dragon, surely?

======

"Celestia?" Spike asked warily, snapping a claw to get her attention.

"Oh, yes. Sorry." Celestia cleared her throat. "Your mother was... a patriot. I was just remembering the last time we spoke. She was so full of... fire. Gone too soon."

"A patriot?" Spike asked.

"A noble creature," Celestia said, inscrutable. "She fought for what she believed in. Died so that Equestria could live in peace."

"I see," Spike said. He nodded. "Thank you, Princess. I feel a lot better knowing the truth now."

Celestia nodded stiffly. "Good night, Spike."

"'night, Princess," Spike said yawning. "See you tomorrow."

Spike exited the room, and wandered back to his room, lost in thought. In his claw, he clutched a scroll. It was an ancient thing, and truthfully, it shouldn't have been outside of the library's restricted section.

But he'd had to know. And it was said you could tell a lot about somepony by what they didn't tell you. He stopped next to a brazier, and looking for any nearby guards, unrolled the scroll and read it again.

"A patriot, huh?" Spike said to himself, throwing the scroll into the fire.