Politics is Much Easier When It's Socially Acceptable to Light Your Opponents on Fire
"Thanks for coming, everyone. Drinks and refreshments are on the back table," Torch gestured towards a stone pedestal near the edge of the plateau. Molten lava bubbled from a cauldron, surrounded by obsidian cups. A pile of gems sat on an enourmous hors d'oeuvres plate, substantially larger than some of the dragons in attendance. Several dragons wandered over to grab some snacks, while others milled about, chatting with each other.
"...so the missus and I've been looking into finding a lair in the Badlands, but I'm not too sure about it. Too many Changelings, y'know? Who knows what property values will look like in a thousand years?"
"...and have you seen what Equestrians charge for pillows? It just makes me so mad, knowing they're lording all the comfort to themselves! I tried making my own out of some extra rocks, but it just wasn't the same..."
Torch glanced around in annoyance. He slammed his claw down, shaking the carved-out mountaintop. "BE SEATED!" The dragons snapped into action, scrambling to take seats around the conference table at the center of the plateau. Torch felt a tiny elbow nudge his shoulder. He glanced over at his daughter hovering beside him. She waved the Bloodstone Scepter at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, right. Old habits and all that," he cleared his throat. "Now that we're all ready to begin, introductions are in order. Ember, meet the Council of Fire. Council of Fire, meet Ember." He waved a massive claw over the table, as if to place emphasis on the only other living creatures on this paticular barren stretch of rock. The dragons seated around the table waved and nodded greetings to their tiny new Lord. Ember glanced back from the Council below to her father with a quizzical expression.
"Uh, Dad? Why do you have a Council?" She asked.
"I don't! They're yours now!"
"We love you, Ember!" Several dragons below cheered. "You're the best Dragon Lord ever!"
"CEASE YOUR CLOACA-KISSING!" Torch thundered. The assembled Councilors winced as his outburst shook the landscape. He turned back to Ember. "The Council advises the Dragon Lord during their reign. That's you now."
"But don't all dragons do anything I say anyway?"
"Yes," Torch admitted. "To be honest, they're not that useful. You can bounce ideas off them, if you phrase it so they don't automatically agree with what they think you want to hear. I mostly get frustrated and bounce rocks off them instead. Oh! They are also the keepers of the Noble Dragon Code!"
Ember fumbled for a moment as she tried to find a comfortable way to cross her arms while still holding the Scepter. "The Dragon Code?" She scoffed. "We still use that thing?"
"Of course we still use it! 'He Who Burned It, Earned It' is a cornerstone of Dragon law!"
Okay, Ember had to concede that point. "But Dad, that's the only part anyone listens to anymore! The rest of that code is useless! I mean, that whole life-debt thing? When is a dragon ever going to be in mortal peril? And what dragon would help them? I'm pretty sure I'm the only dragon here who's ever done anything altruistic."
"Excuse me, your Lordship?" A serpentine dragon with unusually well-defined forelimbs interrupted from the Council table. Torch and Ember looked on in suprise as he raised a muscular arm. "Councilor Trogdor of Fire Island. Perhaps, if a young dragon were in a foreign land and cornered by timberwolves, then--"
"Let me stop you right there," Ember raised a claw. "You're suggesting that a dragon could have their life threatened by a timberwolf? As in, a fire-breathing dragon and a wooden, highly flammable magical construct?"
"Umm, wheeeellll, when you put it like that..." the dragon stammered. Ember rubbed her forehead with a claw. If this was the kind of genius her father had to deal with on a daily basis, no wonder he simply barked commands at every dragon he saw.
Ember felt the barest brush of a two-story-high talon against her shoulder. She looked up at Torch 'resting' an arm over her in a reassuring gesture. "See? This is why we still have the Code."
Noble Dragon Code, Section 14b, Paragraph 3
All input is welcome in any meeting between the Lord of All Dragons and their learned Advisors. There are no bad ideas. Or else.
"YEEEEEAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!" A column of bloodred fire washed over the offending dragon. Councilors scrambled away from the Scepter's magical blast as it consumed him. Ember held the Scepter on him for a few more moments before letting up. The fire subsided to reveal Trogdor, still standing and no worse for wear other than a slight browning of his scales. "Point taken, Your Lordship." The Councilor returned to his seat.
*SNIFF* A sniffle echoed across the distant mountaintops. All eyes looked up to Torch, wiping a tear from his eye with a claw. "I-I'm so proud of you right now! My little girl is growing up!"
Ember felt a rush of warmth under her scales. "Aw, thank you Dad! I love you too!" Still not comfortable with pony-style 'hugs', she settled for a playful smile and punch to the shoulder as her father tried to hold back tears of joy.
"I remember you used to hate learning about the Code in dragon kindergarten, but seeing you now, all grown up and laying down the law like that..." He sniffled again, then paused. The Council had been watching this exchange with a blank look on their faces, as if they were unsure what to think. "BE HEARTWARMED!" He roared, and the seated dragons immediately broke out into tearful smiles.
"Daaaaaaaaaaaad," Ember chided. "You gotta stop doing that, you're retired now! Let me handle these things."
"Sorry, sorry," Torch raised his foreclaws in the air in mock surrender. "Can't blame an old lizard for having one last go at them, eh?"
"Guess not," Ember grinned. She turned back to the assembled Council. Now that introductions had been made and a subordinate properly immolated, she wasn't really sure what she should do as the new leader of the dragons. Sure, she had some long-term plans, but at this exact moment? She was drawing a blank.
"Soooooooo..." she stalled for time as she racked her brain. "Oh! While I've got you all here, What do you think of that whole 'friendship' thing the ponies keep talking about?"
The Council murmured to themselves. Thier huddle muffled most of the discussion, except for a few "What's friendship?"s and an "ew, ponies." Reaching a conclusion, they separated and turned to Ember.
The descision was unanimous. "We agree with you 100%, Lord Ember!"
Ember faceclawed. "I didn't tell you what I thought of it yet!"
"Oh."
"Listen, I don't want to get all mushy like the ponies do," she started, "but friends can work for dragons too. I wouldn't have won the Gauntlet if I didn't trust Spike to help me out."
"Who?" Torch asked, confused.
"Spike? You know, the little purple guy? You threatened to squish him with one claw?"
"Doesn't ring a bell. Was he the one who hugged me at the end of the Gauntlet?"
"No." Ember sighed.
"Good. I'm not sure I liked that."
"Anyway," Ember continued, "my point is that dragons working together can accomplish more than dragons acting alone. We could grow even stronger if we worked with other species."
"Does it have to be ponies?" A shorter, solidly built Councilor asked. He had a wide, flat face, a bony crest covering his forehead, and a lethal-looking shotgun dangling from his armor. Ember recognized him as one of her father's drinking companions, an ornery old reptile, one of few dragons that wouldn't automatically agree with whatever the Lord said. "Allies are good to have, but I don't get along with ponies. They're so... squishy."
Ember nodded in acknowledgement. "Wrex."
"Ember."
After a pregnant pause, she continued. "No, I don't think trying to make friends with the Equestrians would be a good idea at the moment. I've written to their Princess of Friendship, and she mentioned 'nationwide panic' more than a few times. She recommended that we start with creatures similar to us, that strong, lasting friendships are built on mutual bonding and common interests."
Wrex scoffed. "Good luck with that."
Ember considered the grumpy lizard's comment. Where would dragons find others with similar interests? "I need to think about this for a while. Everyone, let's finish up tomorrow." She turned to her father. "Dad? Want to do the honors?"
Torch gave her a toothy grin. "BE DISMISSED!" Ember fired a blast from her Scepter into the air. She didn't know if that was normal for a Dragon Lord, but it just felt right. (Turns out it was. Flame-blasts from the Bloodstone Scepter are used to signal the end of Council meetings, along with almost everything else in dragon society. Because dragons.)
The group of dragons dispersed. Some took off for their lairs, while others milled around the snack table. Wrex and Torch chatted of past adventures, reminiscing about enemies vanquished and shots of ryncol. Ember scratched her chin with the Scepter, deep in thought. She wasn't sure what to do next, but she didn't want to bother Princess Twilight for more advice already. What other creatures would want to be friends with dragons? Who values nobility, strength, and piles of gold as much as we do?
Wait a minute...
* * *
One Week Later...
"Mistress Gilda! Please! We must evacuate now!" Two centurions swooped down on the cliff face overlooking Griffonstone, landing next to their leader. Gilda looked on at her childhood home as the Great Tree of Grover burned. Dragons filled the skies, circling overhead and descending into the city. Every so often, a new plume of fire would blossom up from a thatched hut. Griffons everywhere flew screaming for their lives, trying to escape the invaders.
"We can't stop them, Grumble?" Gilda sighed.
"No, ma'am! Guideline and I tried, but they're too strong! One of them almost choked us to death! Said it was 'giving us a hug'! These vile monsters are mocking us!"
"I've noticed. Evacuate the city, tell everygriff to take wing for Eyrieland."
The two soldiers snapped off a salute and took back to the skies. As Gilda watched Griffonstone burn to the ground, she gripped a photograph tightly in her claw. She unfolded the crinkled snapshot, sent by Rainbow Dash with her most recent letter. It showed six ponies and a tiny dragon smiling happily in front of a crystal tree castle. She glared down her beak at the pony in between Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, a stupid purple nerdicorn with an awful haircut.
"I don't know how or why you did this, and I definitely can't prove it," Gilda growled to the photograph. "But from the bottom of my gizzard, Twilight Sparkle, I know this is your fault somehow."
Author's Note
The dragons play a prank on their new griffon friends, a good old-fashioned TPing.
Torching and Pillaging.
This came from a thirty-hour layover and a deep-seated desire to do nothing productive with that time.
