A Baker, a Princess and Murder

Chapters

Prologue: The Path to Cakes is paved with Demons.
Chapter One: The ordinary heaven of Max
Chapter Two: The Last Drakon, master of spellcraft (and Homemaking)

Prologue: The Path to Cakes is paved with Demons.

"JESUS CHRIST!" The human yelled, as he felt something coil around his feet and pull.

"Max!" Celestia dashed to him. A single tongue of flame burnt away the appendage, the creature to which belonged screaming in pain. Max immediately kicked the monstrosity away. It flew up into the the air before detonating in a powerful cold void.

"Celly, if we get through this alive, I'm going to marry you." Max landed lightly on his feet, before grabbing the surprised Alicorn in a vice like hug. The Alicorn, on her part, was not particularly resistant of this act, if a little red.

Well, a lot red actually, but you didn't hear it from me.

"Umm..... well...." Celestia started, before a shadow engulfed them both. Unlike the other shadows, though, this one was warm, scorching even.

"Then I declare you Mare and Stallion. Now get off your arses and fight!" The shadow engulfed a giant monster, burning away it's oily flesh.

"Fuck you too, Sombra!" Letting go of Celestia, Max hefted his massive sword and swung it at the next monstrosity, cleaving it into two jagged parts.Three more rushed at him, but they stopped in their tracks with holes in the middle of their maws, struck down by Celestia's halberd. Together, they charged forward, shredding through any creature that got in their path.

'Max. The Bomber's dead. Hearth, go!' Max transmitted his thoughts to his comrade. The ground cracked and burst, revealing an enormous white dragon.

'About time.' Without the the threat of Bombers, the Drakon was free to join the fight.

A blast of blue flames shot out from his mouth, scorching away thousands of the weaker creatures.

Celestia had less than a second before the world went blue, orange and green.

......................................................

The Human, The Lecher, The Drakon, The Heart ,The Sun And The Shadow on one side,
The Devil himself on the other,
Five went to war that Day,
Only three came back whole.

......................................................

Max woke up to deathly silence. He checked his alarm clock.

3:29 am

'A full minute to go.' Max thought, still half asleep. He lay there waiting for consciousness to come, absent mindedly cuddling his broad sword. It was almost as tall as him, with a two handed grip, and half the width of his chest.

"Another day, another chance, isn't it? Good morning, Clark." Clark, being a sword, didn't reply.

'One day.....' With a final yawn, Max got out of bed and stretched. His body was toned, with muscles he didn't need to work for anymore. He had finally gotten used to a bed, but sleeping without his sword still didn't feel right. Clark had been his only friend for a long time. He hasn't been used for a decade.

The human disabled the alarm and put Clark on his mount. He went about his morning rituals, showered and ate, before he put on a clean white shirt and jeans. He sat down with a cup of full milk instant coffee, three tea spoons of sugar.

'Aahhh, such luxury.' He sat down with a baking mag. His face was on the front page.

HATRICK! THREE TIME WINNER!

He checked his clock. It was five minutes till four, so he settled down to read ponies praise his Devil's Pavlova.

'I'm the best there is. Hehe.' Max allowed himself a little ego trip, before going down to the ground floor to his bakery.

He quickly went about preparing freshly baked loaves bread for his customers. Some doughs' he left to rest, while he shoved the rest inside the ovens and left them to bake. Very soon, the beautiful smell of fresh bread would fill the street, signaling the start of the day and making the stomachs of sleeping ponies rumble.

He put various confectioneries and pastries on display, and put the enormous wedding cakes into their cases. Finally, he opened the shutters of the shop at 4:00 am. It was deathly silent, even the crickets' quiet at this time of the day. The stars were still out.
Then, as he did everyday, took in a deep breath, and.....

"ANOTHER GLORIOUS MORNING!" The shout resounded through the block.

'One, Two, Three.....'

"SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

'Heh, Vinyl's hungover again. Kids these days, so irresponsible.' Satisfied that his neighbors were now awake, Max took off his apron, and left his shop. He would return to the smell of fresh bread, burning sugar and sounds of a Lyre and Cello.

Max stepped out, and began to walk down the street. He kept walking until the buildings became sparse and street lights ended, covering the path in complete darkness.

As he was walking, however, he picked up a smell. A metal-ly, sharp, sweet smell that the ponies of Equestria were not familiar with. It could only meant one thing.

"Hearth? You there?" Max took a shot in the dark. He hit bull's eye, because he heard a long-suffering sigh.

"It's Spike now, Max. S-P-I-P-K-E-E.... No, wait...." The little dragon sounded bleary, tried even. It was far unfitting of a Drakon, especially one as old as Spike.

"Blueblood?"

".....Yeah. Blueblood." The drakon let out another defeated sigh.

'What did that bastard do this time!'

"Want to talk about it, Hea... Spike?" The question hung in the air for a while, with only the sound of gravel crunching underfoot to fill up the silence. It was a few seconds before Spike responded.

"Nah... just... It's alright. Thanks."

"Whenever you need me, Spike. Whenever." The duo walked in silence for a while, until the glow of the Town proper was distant, and mud replaced gravel roads.

"What was going on in town yesterday?" Max asked , attempting to restart the conversation.

"Huh? What?" The little drakon was distracted.

"You know, one second the square is empty and the next I get stampeded by every mare in the town. Caramel, bless his souls, helped me up. Apparently you and your charge were at the head of the pack."

"Oh, that. Well, Gala Tickets."

"Oh."

"Wait, my charge?"Spike suddenly stopped.

"Yeah, that.... what's her name now?.... Sparkle. She's not your charge? There's rumors going around that she's actually your daughter, or marefriend. Are they true?" The drakon resumed walking, albeit with a lighter gait.

"She's more like..... my owner?" Spike said with a mirthful smile cracking on his face

"Figures. You were always one for strange fetishes."

" ............................"

"............................"

"............................."

"You had to go and make it weird, didn't you Max?"

"My one weakness." A little giggle replaced the Drakon, curtains once again drawing on their little conversation.

......................................................

"Ow! Fuck! It fucking hurts!"

"Shut up and sit down, Danin. " Chaos danced across the humans finger tips as he tried to heal his friend's massive wound.

"I..is he going to be okay?" A little pink Alicorn filly quietly asked, as she held up a barrier around them, fending off the horrible, malicious chaos.

"And don't even get me started on you, sweetie! When we get back home, you and me are going to have a looong talk on disobeying your elders. Didn't I tell you to stay put at home?" Max forced more power into his hands, trying to remove the acid like slime eating away the Minotaur's flesh.

"........I.. (gulp).... I'm sorry." Tears welled up in the little Alicorn's eyes, and her lip trembled slightly, on the verge of tears. It was a images that could melt the heart of most foes, but Max was clad armour that only a select few parents possess.

"'Sorry' isn't going to cut it this time sweetie. When we get back home, you're grounded, indefinitely. You're going to clean the whole house, and no more free time for you! You're going to practice your magic instead, and since you're obviously a big mare who doesn't need to listen to me anymore, you can sleep in your own bed. No more cuddles for you! Infact, I have a mind to..." Over the course of his rant, the little filly seemed to shrink into herself. Max's words may not have much effect, but his tone cut deep into her tiny soul. Of the few people that she had knew and trusted, Max was the God of her tiny little world. His anger and withdrawal of trust hurt her in ways the little filly had never hurt before.

"Hey, Maxi, don't you think that's a little..." Danin, however, was not unaffected by the filly's unconscious wiles. He was however, cut off instantly.

" I said SHUT UP, Danin. I can't do more than this. You'll live, but you're out of the fight. Lie down. SOMBRA!" Before the king could fully realise what Max had said, a shadow had condensed into a pony next to him.

"I did exactly what you said. Burn, then freeze shut. Celestia should survive. Maximilian, what of Danin?" Sombra looked at Danin with obvious concern. He may have been a Siren, but his heart was not cold like the rest.

"He'll live, if you do the same to him. Right now!" Realisation finally struck Danin.

"Wait, what do you mean I'm out of the fucking fight!? I'm perfectly fine and...." A surge of chaos flooded his mind, instantly forcing him into deep dark slumber.

Sombra didn't even flinch, instead focusing on the task he had been given. Flesh sizzled and burnt, before immediately being frozen shut.

Max leant back against a outcropping of ice, his work done. Of course, it wouldn't matter if they couldn't do something about the creature currently trying to kill them. He hated to admit it, but his adoptive daughter probably saved their lives.

"Sombra, Hearth's dead. Celly and Danin are out of commission, but we can still win this. " Max continued as Sombra worked. "I've been saving up. I can push him out through his own hole."

"And will that be enough?" The Siren looked up momentarily, concern apparent in his eyes.

"You've got a better plan?!?"

".......No. I can burn off most of it's limbs. At that moment, push it out." Sombra's body began to dissolve into darkness again.

"Will do." Max lifted himself off the ground, grabbing his sword again. Before leaving the protective barrier his adoptive daughter had put up, he turned towards her one last time.

"Sweetie, stay here and keep the barrier up. We'll be back soon, okay?"

"Y...yes, Max." The Crystal demurely replied, eyes still brimming with tears at the verbal lashing she had received.

"Good girl. Sombra, let's go." With that, he bounded out. Almost immediately, Crystal lost sight of him, as his body was engulfed in a thick,red haze of chaos.

......................................................

The Lecher and The Sun could fight no longer,
The Drakon was already dead,
The Human and The Shadow bound forward,
While the Heart does naught but wait.

......................................................

"Mud bloody everywhere. What is wrong with this accursed place?"

"Spike, it's a FARM. You know , where plants grow. And the last time I checked , plants need MUD to grow."

The duo had passed the road and entered the Sweet Apple Acres, as it was called.

"So, Spike, what are you here for?" Max asked, as he looked around the orchard

"Same reason as you. I don't have tell you what, do I, hmm?" The Drakon gave him a flirting smirk.

The meaning behind his words may as well have taken orbit, right over Max's head.

" Yeah, so ... I'm actually here to pick up fresh fruit,.... so.. yeah, what?"

"Fru..? Ehem..., yeah, fruit! That is exactly why I'm here. Fruit, hehe...." Spike's hasty correction further heightened the human's suspicions.

Given the nature of his friend's predilections, answer was apparent.

"Your searching for applejack, aren't you?" Spike averted his gaze from his friend's playfully accusing eyes.

"HEY LOOK! ITS MACINTOSH! LET'S GO MEET HIM!" The Drakon moved his little feet, as fast as he could, trying to get away from the teasing bound to come.

"Hey , now. You can't just expect to buy alcoholic cider and not have me say ...."

"Max." Spike's tone immediately shut the human up. Without words, he bounded to his friend's side......
........ to see a large red stallion, leaning against a tree. A plough share lay next to him, unceremoniously heaped next to him. Bandages were wrapped tight around his lower chest and back, a sickly black blotch on his side dying it black, still dribbling black liquid on to the ground.

"MAC!"

......................................................

A shadow flew around the enormous creature, burning away it's handholds till only a few were left. A solitary figure, lept in front of it, a mere dot against it's backdrop.

The creature didn't notice him. It was far too busy trying to remove the pesky shadow, until it felt a wave of pure chaotic magic pass through it.

For a second he was confused. Not by the magic itself. It was too small to harm it.

No, he was confused because of how it felt. It was chaos, but it wasn't free. It was constrained, forced. Perverted. An anamoly in nature itself.

It's confusion cemented it's defeat. The magic passed through it, through the hole it had torn in reality, and PULLED.

It didn't stand a chance.

As it was pulled away, away from it's conquest, away from it's birthrite , it finally noticed the dot. Without thought, one of it's arms shot out towards it.

If it was defeated, then it would take another one with it.

......................................................

A world in peril, A life risked,
The human pushed the Devil out,
Back from the Hell it had emerged,
The world was saved, but a life lost
The Shadow left wailing in the dust.

......................................................

"Bloody hell, Mac. What the fuck came out of the forest this time?" The Human was kneeling next to the red stallion, little bolts of chaos dancing between the wound and his finger tips. With every bolt, the wound became milder, the stream of blackened blood spurting out becoming redder, much to the human's relief.

" So, Macintosh Apple, you're the keeper of the Everfree?" Spike asked, averting his eyes from the scene. Outside the heat of battle, the sight of blood often made him sick.

" 'Yup.". Came the simple reply. Not a twitch, nor a quiver of emotion.

"Easy there, Mac. This guy's with me, so you can trust him." Mac's face immediately relaxed, as let up his guard down.

The only way Spike could tell this fact was the stallions eyes. Hard shallow eyes gave way to deep, sad pits, only a little light of feeble hope burning in them, almost causing the Drakon to recoil.

"Spike, this is Big Macintosh. Mac, Spike." Max's free hand idly made it's way up the stallion's head, softly dragging his fingers through his mane. It eased the stallion somewhat, judging by the way Mac leaned into the hand.

"Nice ta' meet ya', Spike." It never got any easier for Spike, seeing a poor soul like this. Not everyone could live through a personal hell and escape unscathed like Max.

This stallion had lost a piece of himself somewhere in the hell he escaped from. And there was no way to get it back.

"Ehem..... Likewise, Macintosh." As they exchanged greetings, Max finished with the wound, leaving just a little cut on the stallion's side.

"Well, that's that." With a final comb, Max withdrew his hands from the stallion. Picking up the blackened bandage, he burnt it away quickly. And then, out of nothing, he began to create a fabric.

"Woah! That's.... that's impossible! You can't create stuff from magic! That..." It was a day of surprises for Spike, it seemed.

"Yeah, about that.... I've found that 'impossible' is a word that should be used very lightly, Spike. Now let me concentrate." Both stallion and Drakon watched in awe as chaos twisted into fabric, while the sun began to peek hesitantly over the sky.

The human was smiling throughout, as he put on a show for his friends.

......................................................

" FUCKING HELL! BLOODY FUCKING HELL!" The human hung on to the ice for dear life, as his own magic pulled at him. His sword was clasped tightly in his right hand, while his left fumbled for a better handhold.

"SOMBRA! HELP ME, YOU FUCKING EMO!"

"You do know that your daughter can hear you?" A shadow condensed into a pony intent of him, grasping onto his left hand.

The human heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"I don't care. Just pull me up. Now!" The Siren tried to push down a smile, but he couldn't help it.

"Yes, Maximilian."

At that point, fate being the cruel bitch it is, a tentacle wound itself around Max's leg.

"What....!? SHIT! PULL SOMBRA PULL!" The human was immediately pushed to the verge of panic.

"Please! DON'T LET GO! I DON'T WANT TO DIE." Fear, terror, anxiety, for a few seconds he lost control of himself. The stress of the battle blinded him. He felt a strange warmth in his pants, dribbling down his legs. A horrible smell assaulted his senses.

Sombra on his part , was filled with both terror and resolve. Tried and weak, the Siren pulled as hard as he could, resisting the pull for a few seconds. He closed his eyes, no longer looking at his broken friend's face, forcing all his strength into his feet.

Those few seconds were all Max needed recover. Almost forcefully, he shoved his fear aside and decided on the best course of action.

"Sombra, i.. it's not your fault. " Sombra's eyes snapped open. He heard the words, but he couldn't understand them. Time slowed down. He felt the weight ease. Max dropped his sword. Max was pulling back his free hand.

The full weight of Max's words hit him like a hammer.

NOO!!!

"Take care of Crystal for me. Bye."

Sombra's world turned upside down, and then shook with a violent fevor. Pain wracked his jaw, blurring his senses. His ears rang. His stomach churned. Bile rose to his throat. And all the while, a deep hollow cold cut through the depths of his chest.

He jumped back up the next second. His feet were jelly. He fell back down. He screamed.

"M...Ma..max..." His voice came out as barely a whisper. He had no strength left.

He used his feet to slowly drag his body towards the edge.

"M.. m..max." Tears began to stream down his face.

He remembered. The smell of acrid urine!

"Ma..Max! Please!" He tried to will his body to move faster. It didn't. He cursed himself. He had time. He could have trained more! Practiced harder! He could have stopped this!

He remembered. The desperate cries of his friend!
I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

Max! Closer! He was getting closer! The cliff face was right in front of him.

He remembered. His face. It was clenched in terror.

He pulled his head over the cliff, staring down, hoping. Praying. Begging.

The bottom was empty. The snow had already settled. Even from that height, Sombra could tell.

Ten seconds. It took him ten seconds to crawl to the cliff. Those ten seconds were his personal hell.

"Max."

All of the Siren didn't come back with him when he escaped.

Author's Note

I hope I'm earning the Drama tag, eh? How do you like it? If the answer is 'shit', then well, shit. If not, then like! My first actual story! Also, if you like it, Please leave an honest criticism in the comments. Even if it's something trivial. I won't delete anyone's posts except my own!

GG. Hope you stay for the ride.

Chapter One: The ordinary heaven of Max

"There. Done and done." Max connected the lose ends of the bandage together.

"You've got to teach me that!" The Drakon exclaimed.

"'Yup!"

The human ruminated on this thought for a second.

"Alright, then. Let's make a deal. I'll teach you this if you teach me that fire magic stuff that you do." Max smiled at both of them, making sure to smile extra hard at Spike.

The stallion also turned eagerly towards the Drakon. If Spike had noticed, it would have warmed his old heart.

He didn't, though.

"What? Max, I told you that my brand of Pyromancy can't be taught! It's literally impossible for you........, oh." Understanding dawned on the Drakon, turning the frown on his face into an apologetic smile. His Pyromancy and Max's forced Chaos were both instinctual magic, not structured magic.

Instinctual magic is an expression of the sum total of the user's being, powerful and exclusive. While a close approximation could be taught, it was far more practical to learn spells and base magic on a framework than on fickle instinct. If anyone, the Drakon should have been the most concious of this.

Mac on the other hand, was completely confused. But he did understand that he wouldn't be learning Chaos. He would have protested, but then the hand returned to stroke his head, leading him to the conclusion that discretion is truly the better part of valour.

Basically, he shut up and let the hand pet him.

"'Oh' indeed." Max ruffled the stallion's mane. "So Mac, let's go over some ground rules. No heavy work, at all for the next week. That means no Apple bucking, plowing, lifting heavy objects and no.... I repeat, NO going into the forest. You aren't going to be much of a keeper if you wind up dead, okay?"

Mac hesitated for a while, and then started to counter. Plowing could be postponed, but it was the start of fruit season and someone needed to get the Apples down from the trees.

"Say yes." Before he could even begin however, he was instantly shot down.

"........'Yup." Came the answer.

"Good man. Now, I won't force you, but what hurt you this time?" The human's eyes narrowed slightly, giving the silent implication that the question was more of a demand than a request.

".....Spitter', Non magical. Ah' didn't know T'was there 'Til Ah' felt the burn." Mac conceded, looking somewhat ashamed.

" Don't feel bad, Mac. If I came face to face with such a thing when I was your age, I would've been dead." The placating words did not console the stallion much.

The three stood at around for a few seconds as each one debated what course of action to take. In those few seconds, Max realised that the sky was housing redder and redder by second, which meant it was almost 4:30, and he had left the ovens on. Which meant that if he didn't hurry up, he would be selling charcoal instead of bread today.

"Oh would you look at the time!" Max started with a dramatic tone he inwardly cringed at. Reverting to his usual tone, he continued.

"I'd love to chat, Mac but I've got to go look after my shop before Vinyl eggs it." The stallion took the hint, and began to walk towards the barn, the Drakon and the Human trailing after him.

"Oh, and Mac, I might have got you the last customer for this season. You've got any applejack left?" Spike looked at Max with an expression of both and jubilation. He hadn't known for sure if he could gather the courage to ask, but Max forced to issue into the forefront.

Mac, on his part, was mildly confused.

" 'Yup, but 'Ah thaught Y'all didn't drink?"

"Oh, it's not for me. It's for Spike here. So how'bout it, eh?" Max raised his eyebrows a little, giving a little smirk to the stallion.

".....Nope."

"Yeah, that's great. So now we nego.." It took an embarrassingly long time, but Max finally caught on. ".. wait, what? Why not?" The unexpected answer threw Max off. He turned towards the stallion, confusion written all over his face.

"Ah' ain't sellin' alcohol t'a no colt, Max." Mac said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. This statement instantly cleared Max's confusion, and for a second he remained that way.

Then, a curious change started to take over Max. Those not well versed in human facial expressions would have thought that he was as dying, if not for the sounds. Though Max was infact, dying because of Mac's statement and Spike's expression.

Dying of laughter, that is.

......................................................

Max had to rush, but he did reach his shop before the bakery burnt down. This was because of two facts.

One, he was lucky.

Two, his ovens had timers on them. There was no way they would burn longer than the timer.

The first point is still relevant, though, because he often incurs the ire of his next door neighbour Vinyl.

As he entered the small market area where his shop was located, it was nearing 4:45.

Sharp, sweet sounds of plucked lyre strings and the deep, mellow droning of the Cello resounded in the isolated little part of the market where Bread'N'Cakes was. The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with delicious sweet smell of boiling sugar from Bonbon's candy shop, all of it cast in the soft red light of the early morning Sun, valiantly trying to warm up the chilly deserted streets.

Infact, to many beings, they might have well have stepped into a secret peice of heaven, hidden away on Earth.

The beautiful smell spread throughout the square, forcing itself into ponies' homes, and attacking them in their beds. In the silence of early morning, creaks and moans were as loud as glass breaking, as the sleeping ponies tried placate their rumbling stomachs and fought a losing but long battle, to sleep a few more winks before morning turned them out of their beds.

Max, on his part, was doing little to ease their discomfort. He pulled out the bread from the oven, mostly brown or white loaves to be consumed within the day, and left them on the front counter to continue their seige.

Moving quickly, he shoved the more exotic varieties into the ovens, some to be left for the rest of the day. Finally, he properly opened up the shop, hanging the giant sign up and pushing Clark safely behind the counter, still all wrapped up.

He walked in front of his shop, and gave a satisfied sigh.

Then he turned his back to the shop and opened his arms wide, as if to catch a falling Pegasus.

There were often two consecutive reactions to this. One, was of the the causal bystander, still half asleep and confused in the morning, drinking in the somewhat beautiful and quite handsome male striking a pose. Handsome enough for quite a few single mares (and married ones) to take with themselves to the privacy of the bedrooms and fantasies.

The other was the shopkeeper's reactions, mostly mares, as they silently peered and stared just a little longer than they should have, though it was not only reason for staring. The completion of this ritual would signal the start of a new day.

Atleast that's what they tell themselves.

Max wasn't put off by the obvious staring. It was partly because it his own fault. A portion of his youth was spent in the pursuit of vainity, afterall. Perhaps it was a consequence of being an exotic male in modern Equestria.

It didn't change that he could have moved away to a different part of town though.

Instead, he stepped once right, a little behind, and left again. His hands rose higher, in anticipation for the catch, all the while looking at the erratically flying grey blotch in the sky that was descending towards him at an alarming rate.

A grey bundle fell into his hands, about the size of a largish dog. A fluffy, plump dog at that.

Mismatched golden brown eyes, sparking with life rose to meet his own, melting his heart. Again.

"Hiya Max!" The grey Pegasus adjusted into a more comfortable position, unaware of the jealousy and the fantasies she was creating in her fellow mares.

"Hey, Derpy. How's it going?" Before the mare could get too comfortable, Max set her down, to the relief of a few interested parties. With the schedule complete, life in Ponyville now started at the earnest, shops preparing for opening and the early risers starting to wake up.

"Just give me a sec and I'll get the bread packed. Also, here are the specials for today. Flutters has asked for......"Max droned on about the specific requests made by his customers. As the only proper baker in town, Max supplied bread to nearly the entirety of Ponyville's 150 or so inhabitants. While he could do it himself, his disdain for using magic led him to defer the job of delivering said bread to the resident mail mare. Who was, incidentally, a very dear friend of Max.

"Yep boss!" Derpy sat down heavily, raising a puff of dust, ears perking up. She had a bright , goofy smile, one eye pointing towards Max, and another towards kingdom come. Time had taught Max that her mismatched eyes didn't seem to affect her sight. Mostly.

Unlike the average mare's , however, Derpy's eyes held no lust or want. Instead, they held a sort of adorable eagerness in her task. Derpy was the sort of pony to enjoy the act of living, simply by virtue of the fact that she WAS living.

Though on that particular day, they seemed a mite too eager.

"So, got all that Derpy? " Max handed the somewhat sizeable package to the grey Pegasus, who hefted it onto her back, fully expecting a request.

"Yeah! Oh and also......ahh" Much to Max's surprise, the mare's cheeks began to take a rosier colour, one that he had seen very little before.

"What?" It confused him. It confounded him immensely. And

"Ummm.... c...can I get Sunday off?" The blushing intensified. "Please?" The mare continued smiling, even as her cheeks took the colour of ripe tomatoes.

'Now this is interesting. '

"Hmm, I don't know, Derpy. There just 'soo much' to do." The human didn't bother showing his smirk. It would go over the mare's head anyway.

The look of dejection from the mare hit him hard before he could continue his teasing, stabbing him straight through the heart. It led him to reconsider teasing the bubbly mare. The blush didn't seem born of her request, but rather of the reason she wanted a request

"Why?" He deflected the mare's emotions with a question, of which he already knew the answer.

"Oh...Umm, well.... Umm... I-I have to .... go with..." A hand descended on her head, gently petting her.

"Yeah, I know. Fine, take Sunday off." Max face broke into a smile as Derpy's rose in elation. It wasn't often that she asked for anything, but Max had yet to refuse her when she did.

"Yay!" The Pegasus broke into an impossibly large smile. "Thank you, boss!"

She hefted the bag onto her back , and took flight, obviously giddy with joy.

'Have fun on your date.' Max turned towards his first customer with a smile.

'I forgot ask her who she's seeing.'

......................................................

She was running down a cold hall way.

"Hey, Celly!" The voice rang out, echoing through the chamber. It was Max. She ran faster, trying to catch him.

"Hooves wide, and shields up. Always look for magic! DON'T STOP!" Starswirl was foaming at the mouth.

"Hey, isn't....." She couldn't remember.

She couldn't remember.

"Hey, isn't t..t.." She couldn't remember what he said.

She couldn't remeber

"HeY, ISnT ....." She couldn't remember his voice.

She couldn't remember.

She was running down a hallway.

"Hey, Celly!"

There was light at the end of the hallway! She could see it! It was within reach! He was within reach!

"Hey, Celly!"

'I can see him again!'

She rushed as fast as she could, straight towards the light at the end of the hall.

"STOP!" She was dimly aware of something dark, on the edges of her consciousness. Something trying to break in.

"TIA!" She ignored it, and lept through the door of light.

Beyond it, there was a monstrosity. Without form or shape, it was simply an amalgamation of destructive chaos.

That was not the first thing she saw.

She saw a human, face blurred, in it's claws.

"Hey, Cel...." The claws closed. A spurt of blood erupted from them, freezing against her skin, wet and.........

"MAX! Celestia woke up screaming, wet and very,very cold.

"TIA!" A dark form was pinning her down to her bed. Celestia could sense magic already cast, and instinctively began to struggle.

"Calm down, TIA! It's me! Lun...." Before the intruder could finish, Celestia's fore hoof shot out, smashing her in the face with enough force to shatter granite.

The dark Alicorn took the hit on her cheek, skin breaking and bone cracking, blood dripping from the wound, but she still refused to move. She had managed to avoid dislocating her jaw, but blood began to flow from the wound. It formed little tiny rivulets to her muzzle, collecting itself in drops hanging of her chin, until the struggle dislodged a few large drops.

Drops of blood splattered against Celestia's snout, the warmth breaking Celestia out of her stupor. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark, focusing on her sister with a moment of sudden clarity.

"L..Luna?" Celestia stopped struggling.

"Yes! It is me, Tia." Luna let go of her sister, and moved next to her on the remnants of the once majestic bed, now burnt and ruined. Lighting her horn, she removed the icey slush that she had dumped on her sister to wake her.

She held some of it against her aching face. The bleeding had stopped for the time being.

"I.... I'm .... sorry, I didn't mean...."Celestia began, but she was immediately shushed by her sister.

"I know." Luna fixed her eyes on her sister, silently demanding answers that she already had. If nothing, Luna would be able to comfort her sister by offering a listening ear.

"I.. I... saw. I saw him..." Yearning and loss were etched across Celestia's face. The high of awakening was receding, bringing her dream back into focus.

"You were having a nightmare, Tia. " Luna nuzzled her sister, ignoring the stab of pain. It crushed her to see her sister in suffering.

Especially in this manner.

Especially when she could make it better.

Luna gently put her fore hooves around her elder sister, and enveloped Celestia in her wings, hiding the sisters away from the world.

I will kill the bastard who dared do this. I WILL EAT HIS HEART! For the time, being however, Luna suppressed her anger.

"I....I..." Words failed the Diarch of the Sun. Tiny sniffles and damp eyes gave way to undignified wails.

Wails, of despair.

And a deep, deathly yearning, many thousand years old, that refused to die. Hidden under the surface, it was forced out by sneaky magic.

Luna just held her sister tight, ignoring the snot dripping onto her coat.

'Soon, Tia, soon. Just a few more days. You can see him again soon.' Luna strengthened the barrier around them, making sure that no sound escaped as a goddess cried like a mortal.

......................................................

"Are you sure, princess?" The young Commander trotted behind Luna. He had caught the newly returned Alicorn's attention.

Not because of skill or power, but because of how different he was from everpony else.

"I am positive, Sir Shining. I will handle him. Which cell?" They stepped into the elevator, Shining signaling for it to be let down, into the dark reachs of the castle dungeons.

"Cell forty four. Princess, we have extracted what knowledge we could from her. You can do what you want." The stallion turned around, leaving the princess in front of the cell.

"Selene, assist the princess." A shadow dropped down from the ceiling at his request.

"Yes, sir." The nocturne bowed once to Luna, and disappeared back into the shadows.

"I will take my leave, Princess. If you must kill her, please make sure it cannot be traced back here. Thank you."

Luna, regarded his retreating form for a while. One of the five Commanders, Shining Armor had enough influence over the Guard to successfully pull off a Coup.

So why was he helping? What was his aim? In Luna's experience, asking was not an option.

'Later, later. I will find out more later. For now, however.'

Luna turned towards the cell.

......................................................

There was a hooded figure, standing right out the back of the bakery. Ponies didn't notice him, only instinct veering them from collision.

'I must..... I must go inside.' A black hoof took a step forward.

And then it took three steps back.

' And what will I tell him? Sorry? I did all I could? I tried my best? I can't face him. I wouldn't dare. Not now. Not yet. I haven't done all I can. I need time. I just need a little more time.' The Siren turned away, and walked into a dark alleyway, sinking throught the shadow.

"Just a little bit more time, friend."

Chapter Two: The Last Drakon, master of spellcraft (and Homemaking)

This World was made by God.
This World was saved By Seven.
Six were Struck Down by war
The last slept forever under the world.

......................................................

The Drakon waddled brazenly, an armful of apples and a brown jute bag hanging from his claws in front, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

He missed the concerned looks of the early rising Townsponies, all directed at that bag, used to peddle just one commodity in all of Ponyville.

Now, Ponyville is a single mare's town. Sure, it had a few couples sprinkled here and there, even some unions on the straighter side of the spectrum, and the ever-present herds.

Thanks to pony preferences, or rather the lack thereof, a mare needn't look far for a romp and temporary intimacy.

However, as for maternal urges....There were entirely too few children in Ponyville.

An adorable baby dragon, a colt at that was innocently carrying Big Mac's moonshine, presumably at the behest, or even on the demand of the strange unicorn from Canterlot, the one Celestia herself kicked out.

Almost every single mare up and about had found an outlet in him.

Spike, managing to remain worthy of the Title 'The Blind Mage', missed all of this and kept his smile, politely wishing them a good day, deep in his own thoughts.

Luckily for him, no mare in her right mind could bring themselves approach a little colt, and most herd stallions were stuck at their homes, preparing the things required again to wage the daily war called breakfast, before turning their ravenous partners and foals out of their warm beds.

And most of the mares who were not in their right minds tended to sleep in. In fact for most mares in general it was still unearthly hours.

Thus, the Drakon had free roam.

The old Drakon was mired in a world of his own creation. There were notes to make, training to execute, spells to craft and entirely too little time. And to top it of, his own form had grown very weak. Less of a problem for the Drakon of magic, but a problem nonetheless.

'I spent too little time in the Egg this time.'

But what was he supposed to do? Leave his only daughter alone for another half a millennia? No, when Twilight magic hit the egg, he used it. He took the out, bypassing the limits of his spell and turned it from a Commited to a Conditional spell.

It was enough of a change to alter the parameters without killing himself, properly attaching his mind to his soul and giving him a body that could be grown later.

Before he knew it, the Drakon was pushing the door to the Library.

The day would begin soon for little Twilight, and growing unicorns needed their breakfast, High Mage or not.

......................................................

"MASTER!", the dragon's bellowing alerted the others in the cave, looking up from their work only to see a splosh of red speeding towards them.

Most dodged the fast blot with practised ease, and those who didn't made sure to utter suitable curses as they were knocked out of the way, their pride and appliances in tatters, and their nascent
theoretical spell matrices destroyed beyond recovery.

"MASTER! MASTER!" The dragon, however, was single-minded, still rushing to the back of the cave into the Drakon's own chamber.

He smashed headfirst into the head of the enormous and very startled Drakon, in the process destroying the fledging theory of a Spell that the red dragon could not even begin to comprehend.

The Drakon's shock passed first, changing into concern, first to check if the Spell had properly fizzled, and then towards his student, currently picking himself up from granite's embrace.

"Now, now, little one. Breathe." A clawed finger unconsciously descended on the red dragon's head, gently petting the dragon. A small spell soothed the bruise that now existed beneath the red one's scale as the great Drakon waited for his student to gather himself.

This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, and it wouldn't be last. His students were mostly an animated lot, prone to random bursts of genius or panic, and sometimes both in varying proportions.

The entire premise of Shunting, the safety measures for failed spells to vent magic stored in their matrices and properly fizzled, had developed because of this very reason.

A more sober student with bad naming sense came up with it and applied it on the spot, when some idiot decided to run around like a caffeinated spider in a test chamber, claiming that he had to charge the first dynamo.

Seeing as the said chamber was being used by a hundred strong chorus to channel a Commited spell near a hundred thousand Kilo Arcs, said idiot nearly took his findings, that section of the school to grave, and the creator of Shunting to the grave.

"Now, from the beginning. What were you saying?" Said the Drakon, as the dragon mostly composed himself.

"Master, I went out to practise a transmutation spell I've been working on, and- and I saw you, but it was...." The dragon slowed down, considering his next words.

"It wasn't you. It was a Drakon- there's another Drakon outside! He.... he wants to meet you." The dragon stopped suddenly, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

The Great green Drakon was quite surprised.

"So, it's a visit? By brother? That is certainly new."

Something was not right here.

......................................................

Something was definitely not right here.

It reeked of purposeless magic. Light altering, mental reconditioning, and emotion magic, to name the most distinct flavours.

The specific ratio told Spike that they were discharges from a failling spell matrix, some version of Drakon's Dissuadence alliteration 5, probably the 12th alteration with an overloaded matrix. And it wasn't just one of them.

He still remembered crafitng that particular alteration. It was for him, considering his lonley circumstance at that time. It was a spell that had been fashioned by a rare nostalgia, for others, not for himself.

The spell could be cast with a mere 15 centi-arc ( centi-Arcane units), a miniscule amount considering it's strength. It had the added benefit of having an overload resistant matrix, the flow cycles adjusting automatically for mistakes in ratio and input. Upto 100 centi-arcs of wasted excess could be accomodated.

It was perfect practise for Novice mages with barley a few arcs of magic and and E-class control. It was a spell Spike considered a personal achievement. A spell usable by many, amongst a plethora of spells developed that were useful only to him.

'Irony definitely has a real taste.'

"One night. I'm gone one night, and she pulls this stunt?" The Drakon's good mood dampened , as he walked up the spiral staircase into the study. There, a simmering mirage of the dying spell was trying to hide the culprit and the mess around her.

The 12th alteration has drawbacks. The matrix itself isn't exactly the picture of efficiency, lasting for not more than 3 hours with perfect casting, and diminishing in ratio to the amount of excess power is poured into it.

Even with a perfect cast, it needs to be touched up every three hours, or it will start fizzling at 3 hours and 42 seconds and will be gone at 4 hours, 1 minute and 11 seconds, becoming a simmering mess in that interval.

Spike waved the spell away, revealing a sleeping lavender unicorn hunched over the study table. Immediately, he saw that she had drained her entire magic pool, all 10 Kilo-arcs of it. However...

'Oh bollocks.'

She had gotten into his private stash.

Around her, parts of the room and the various illicit objects were obscured by various illusory spells, and there were ten failed spell matrices of Drakon's Dissuadence Allit 7/ Alt 2, a highly complicated spell that costs 492 arcs and will fail if a even single milli-arc so much as thinks of leaving it's flow lane, let alone it being miscast or misdirected.

As he moved closer, be noticed that she was using his clawwritten original 'Alliterations and Alternations of Drakon's Dissuadence', a virtual treasure tome some mages were willing to kill and have killed for, as a pillow. She was drooling into the chapter of the spell which had knocked her out.

Adorable as that was, Spike had a sudden urge to dip into the brown bag still in his hand and take a deep, long swig from the bottle.

"Now, now Spike. Such things are for the night." Spike held himself, setting down the bag too, on a newly visible chair. Drugs, drinks and lust, mortal vices were fun, but they were dangerously addictive given his lifestyle.

It was the failed spell matrix of a 3 Kilo-arc spell that seemed to have been the nail in the coffin, draining her magic and knocking her out cold.

"So she tried casting spells within her power limit, but above her control level. Why am I not surprised?" Spike couldn't help but let out a wry chuckle. It was a typical occurrence for him, back in the day, with his own adoptive daughter.

Tia had warned him that her precious student could be eager. Well, like teacher, like student.

Spike shook his head, casting the smile away.

'It stern time now. I have to look disappointed. '

He placed his hand on Twilight's back.

"You didn't notice your magic draining, did you, Twilight?" Dropping the basket of apples onto an invisible desk, the Drakon wiped away the spells, absorbing what magic remained.

Four Kilo-arcs of magic gathered in his grasp. He supplemented it with some of his own, making it equal to his student's pool.

"YEEEEEEE!!" Immediately, the unicorn sat ram-rod straight, then toppled over from the chair and to the ground below.

"Whaaa- what happened?" The sudden awakening sharpened her primary senses and butchered her common sense. Her eyes swiveled rapidly in alarm, her breathing on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Good morning, Twilight. Nice to see you up and about." Unfortunately, Spike had burnt all of his ire with that statement and was now currently failing to look disappointed.

"Spike? What..... You have cigars! And a pot pipe thing!" Twilight shot right up, and stared straight down at the Drakon.

'Father long dead, give me strength! Not this again.

With the grace of eons lived behind him, Spike tried to to think of a good response.

"Ughhhh...."

To be fair to him, hookahs were only a few hundred centuries old.

"And you have one of the Drakon's spell books!" Twilight pressed on, coming to the main question on her mind, much to his relief. "How in sweet Celestia's name did you find one of these? Only thirty of these books exist!"

This again? Better than here first question though.

"Thirty? There are three hundred and forty two books. And I didn't find it, Twilight, I wrote it. I wrote all of them. I only have this one because it's a work in progress." That part was lie. He'd actually lost interest a while ago and never completed it, but the rest was true.

He had, infact, told her this already. He had spent seven years on and off looking after her in the castle, while he adjusted to modern life and tracked down his allies.

Infact, he had set most of Twilight's magic syllabus, half of which Tia ignored completely as was her wont.

"You mean those silly stories? The Drakon isn't actually real, Spike!" And therein lay the real trouble. To Twilight, the fanciful fables of nigh uncastable spells and beings who could erode away pieces of reality had always been fiction.

She accepted the currently popular consensus, if marginally so. The 'Drakon' was a group of close knit powerful mages using a Hive mind spell, most of whose work was lost, despite the Drakon himself trying to convince her otherwise. If Twilight couldn't see it or prove, it was either wrong or not true.

Spike sighed. That was one aspect Tia was better in.

"Look, that doesn't matter. Instead..." Spike brought his palms together, actual fatherly concern now letting him look only disappointed, but not mad. ".... How about you explain to me what made you stay up all night?"

A goddess used to, and still does wilt under that gaze.

The young, barely mare unicorn had no chance.

"Twilight, didn't I tell you to go to bed? Or to not try any new spells?" He asked sternly.

"Oh. Uh.... Well..."

Spike sighed some more.

"You know what? It doesn't matter." He turned back towards the stairs and let himself out, leaving her to stew.

Just like Tia, Twilight does what Twilight wants. Nothing would change that. There really was no point. She'd feel bad for a while, then go straight back to it.

"Go back to sleep, Twi. I'll wake you up at 6:30." He began pull out all the sundries needed for a healthy and balanced breakfast as a dejected sort of muted clattering faded with distance.

' Atleast she didn't ask about the Hookah.'

......................................................

It was quiet in the ancient cave. Only a single drakon lived in it now. Alone. Nearly two million years had passed before he lost track of time.

It grew lonely. So lonely. The Drakon regretted it heavily. Not a single one of his students survived the chaos of battle. Seven Great Drakons against the Creator of all things, it wasn't a battle the Drakon had expected to survive.

Then again, he had been better equipped than the rest. His arrogant brothers, so sure of victory, so sure in their brute strength, they were dead. He was born weak. And it cemented his survival.

Magic and spells, study and research, they are not good company. But they were the only company the Drakon kept.

Until today.

"So, tell me, what is it exactly that you do here again? In actual Draconian this time?" The centuries had burnt away the Drakon's desire for actual living company, despite his loneliness, and this annoying new creature did absolutely nothing to help rekindle that desire.

"I have been speaking in Draconian, creature. I don't know the modern variant. So if you wish to converse with me," The Drakon didn't pause his work, changing and molding his spell, as he turned to look at the Human. "this is what you get."

Unfortunately for the Drakon, the human, the creature trying to hold a conversation with him, was als ancient and experienced as himself. Despite vastky superior magical skill on his part, the human was skilled with his innate magic.

Thus, attempts to remove or outright kill the pest was met with failure. Throwing him out made him come back. Blowing his body to smithereens just made him pull himself back together, atom by atom. Endless illusions were purged. Portals to the Edge of reality were sewn shut or clogged. All by his versatile control over his innate magic.

It helped the human's case that the Drakon wasn't really trying. The human knew it too, and it led to the current situation where the Drakon had to suffer the human's chatter.

"You've been speaking in indeciferable magic lingo, not normal speech. Changes in Draconian don't have anything to do with it." The human piped up again, crossing his legs. For reasons unknown to the Drakon, the human had impaled his over sized club into the cave wall and was sitting on it half a mile off the ground to keep eye contact at his level. "Hell, I can't understand about a quarter of what you're saying."

The Drakon narrowed his eyes. He had been trying to explain the spell he had been working on. It was a refinement of the Flash sword. A very, very powerful refinement of a useful spell. It wasn't particularly draining. To use his system of magical measurement, it took 100 kiloarcs of magic, distributed 19.56: 1.75 : 49.53 : 29.15684 manifested as Rage, a low power high frequency oxy-electron circuit, a spirit fire transmuted as a blade and Greater pyrokinesis to make sure the spirit fire does not defuse.

In hindsight, the Drakon understood that it may not have been the best conversation matter.

Regardless, he pressed on.

"So, you can understand three quarters of what I'm saying?"

"Oh, definitely. Despite how I like to present myself, I'm not an idiot." The human raised his foreleg, closing his dextrous digits into a fist. Immediately, a powerful flash sword appeared along his arm, the large blade parallel to his fist, glowing a crimson red.

The Drakon wasn't necessarily surprised by the chaotic replica itself. It wasn't unusual or unheard of.

No, what surprised the Drakon was the amount of magic wasted. Namely, almost none. It was a 97% efficiency spell. It put the human's control of his innate magic in the highest limits of S-class, just a few steps behind the Drakon himself.

While the human seemed to rely on innate magic similar to the Drakon's now long dead brothers, he wasn't arrogant about his power. Instead of relying on brute magical force, he used the Chaos in collected and inventive ways, maximising the usefulness and minimising actually magic expended.

"I mean, yes, it's a chaotic construct, and I may not be able to summon it in a fight, but I can make a flash sword." The human let go of the chaotic spell. "While we're at it, let me go one step further."

He summoned a purely magical flash sword.

The Drakon immediately froze.

There was no mistaking it. A high power low frequency electron circuit and a oxy-magical fire. It was a horrible waste of energy, 10 kiloarcs being fed into the spell every 5 seconds, at a horrendous 12% efficiency.

'But it is a flash sword.'

The human could do it. There was no doubt about it. Gears began turning in the Drakon's mind and the Ancient creature tried to make sense of the situation, until he looked down at the enormous runes he had scratched into the cave floors.

His eyes widened. The matrix of the flash sword created by the human was too similar to the one he was creating, with the same basic idea.

The human could somewhat understand the runes.

"Figured it out?" The human asked.

"How?" The Drakon save his claw, pushing aside the literal mountain of notes and scrolls he had been using, putting fifteen layers of wards on them while he focused his attention on the human.

The human smiled an anxious smile, turning his gaze to stare at his own feet. For a few moments, he reminded himself of what he was here to do. Gathering his courage, he asked a question in a clear, concise voice.

"What was it that you told your students, friend?"

The resulting silence was almost tangible.

The Drakon stiffened, his eyes turning cold. The human was poking at a deep, old wound.

"I forget. Refresh my memory." The Drakon scathingly replied, not bothering to hide the attack spells he was readying. It was a implicit reminder for the human to choose his next words with great care.

"'Preserve my Legacy.', or something along those lines, wasn't it ? " The human raised his head to meet the Drakon's stare directly.

Confusion crept into the Drakon's face. "Go on."

"Your students took it literally." The spells Sparkled dangerously as the Drakon lost concentration, but Fizzled away as the Drakon Shunted the magic. It told the human that he chose well enough.

The pair stayed in the silence for a few minutes, the human waiting for the Drakon to finally piece together the puzzle and to climb down from his shock.

"By the heavens above! They passed down Runic?" The Drakon finally asked. "How? When?" For the first time, the Drakon regretted sealing himself away for a reason other than boredom.

"There are stories, Drakon." The human stood on his perch."Stories of seven great Drakons, rising up to challenge the apocalypse. Of all Drakons slain." He jumped off, landing lightly on the ground. As if on instinct, his magic pulled the sword out and flew it into his hand.

"The Drakon of magic, the weakest of the Six, survived the battle, but he was wounded." The human hefted his sword, waving around to gesture at the Granite walls. "He crawled into this cave, cast thousands of warding spells, and then never came out."

To hear about himself like this. As a legend, not a being? The Drakon remembered the day of the war. And slain? The word wasn't the best to use here.

"Twenty miles out, there is an ancient temple dedicated to you and the study of magic. All based upon hurried scribbles one of your students left behind. Of spell theory, of all basic safety and casting concepts, of excersizes to increase magical might. All written in his own blood, and preserved in stasis."

The Drakon was at a loss. And it showed on his features. Magic was not dead. There were others who wished to learn. Others who could be taught!

"Well, that's the speech. You coming or not?"

"...No."

"Goo... What?"

"No."
.
.
.
.
"Well, why not?"

"I have ... The mag... I don't. They don't need me."

"That's not true; and I'm not saying that placate you, either. You should see some of the retarda...."

'Oh bollocks.'

"The legend is wrong." The Drakon cut him off.

"...It is?" The human turned around, confused.

The Drakon was confused as well. He wasn't sure why he had felt the need to say that, and why he felt the need to say more.

He sighed. He had already started.

"They weren't 'slain'. My brothers were idiots. Powerful, brash, arrogant idiots who were created with strong innate magic. They shaped the features of this world, and felt a self righteous sense of ownership here. When father got bored and decided to wipe the board clean, they decided that they would wage a crusade. Even I came out into the world to protect my students."

They words flew easier from the Drakon as muted emotions now began to free themselves after an eternity.

"To say that my brothers were slain would be to say that I slayed my useless scrap parchment. They were dead in seconds. There was no crusade, only a fight. A bloody, furious and deathly fight between my father wielding his innate magic, and me, using the mana pools of my dead brother, spells that took me centuries to complete, and my studies of magic."

And the Drakon talked. He spilt everything that he had bottled up, everything that he had supressed, proudly talked the about achievements of each of his students, laughed along with the human as he animatedly spoke of the antics of the Dynamo Kirin, somberly recounted the scenes of death and devastation he found when he returned to the caves that he used as schools.

He talked and talked and the human listened, sometimes quiping in, sometimes breaking in to tell of the world outside, but mostly just sitting and listening with rapt attention.

They would became the best of friends over the next few weeks. The human would tell him of his own travels through worlds, and then lead him out side. The tales of their friendship would be the stuff of legend one day.

But not today. Today they were just people animatedly talking, gesticulating, laughing, without restraint and without care. Two strangers to the world who found solace in each other.

Author's Note

Story is back.

I may end up using concepts if I find them in the comments. I'll credit them. I've already poached RGRE concepts because they aligned with my head cannon of the world, with a 3 to 1 ratio of mare to stallion. It will add some spice to story and more importantly actually help me think about the story.

Criticism is a appreciated, again.