I'll Make a Dragon out of You
I'll Make a Dragon Out of You
B_25
“I want you to make me into a dragon.”
I blinked. “Aren't you already a dragon?”
“What? No!” Spike shook his head; I had to tilt my head back slightly just to make eye contact with him. “I am, I am, but I am sorta not.” He scratched the back of his head. “I-I mean, I'm a dragon, right? Like, no doubt about that.”
I'd met some strange ponies in my life. There was usually an underlying reason for their strangeness that I could relate, or at the very least, understand. Ponies were more complex than they let on. That was a valuable lesson Twilight Sparkle had taught me.
But this dragon was just weird.
“Because I've got it all!” His claw gestured down his body, my eyes following along, to a decent display of dragon physique. His chest was properly outlined and his abs would flex whenever he leaned back—not at his peak, but also not without potential. “Scales. Claws. Fangs. Bad breath.”
He blinked twice. Cupping his claws before his mouth, he exhaled quietly, causing me to tilt my head. My expression remained impassive. There wasn't much that could truly throw me for a loop. But this dragon, this... Spike. He certainly was doing his best to do... whatever it was he was doing.
“Cancel that bad breath.” Spike dropped his claws. “But I'm still a dragon! But, like, not the kind of dragon I want to be.”
“Are you always like this?”
“N-No!” He took a step back, making my neck crane further back. “It's just... this isn't an issue I can take to the other girls. They'd either laugh, tell me to improve myself, or really... probably not care.”
I blinked. “Why wouldn't they care?”
“Okay. That was wrong of me to say.” Spike shook his head and turned to the side. We were in the kitchen of the castle. He went to the sink and glanced at the hanging pans, only to quickly take one down and bring it underneath the tap, filling it with water. “They do care... at least I hope they do.”
I assumed most mares would have sprinted out of the room. I was half-tempted to do the same, but something drew me toward this dragon, the absurdity of his life matching my own. So I stayed, I listened, and I kept my distance.
“Sometimes though, it doesn't feel like, well, they care as deeply for me as they do each other.” He closed the tap with a flick of his claw, spinning to the right in one fluid motion, before setting the filled pan on the stove. Having tilted the dial underneath seconds before, heat was already beginning to rise. “I don't blame 'em though.”
Such an absurd and strange creature he was, without a doubt, certainly self-aware.
“Doesn't help I don't have much going for me.” He took a step back and his tail shot up, slithering over his shoulder and through the air, sliding itself into the handle of the overhead cabinet. It was open before he looked up. Impressive. “If someone's not interesting, then there's no point in throwing a pity party, right? Begging and whining won't change anything.” The spade of his tail disappeared inside the cabinet, and with a sweep, two cups came flying out over his head. “So the goal should be to make myself more interesting, right?”
Even after all these years of stabbing pains and countless nightmares, the sight of something falling still caused my horn to ignite—electricity sparking instead of magic flowing. Stabs of pain cut into my brain.
But Spike only chuckled, stepping back with his claws low and palms facing up, catching the cups by their handles. They flung around and around on his talons, and kept spinning them, raising them into the air.
“Black or blue?” he said. “And tea or coffee?”
“Does having black coffee in a black cup make me a basic mare?”
“Dunno. Never paid attention to stuff like that.” Spike leaned back into his chair, propping one leg over his knee. He'd taken tea, sweetened by over five scoops of sugar. After a sip, he would smile wide enough to show some fang—all of which were white and somehow not rotting. “You do you. Unless another pony has a good reason to object... who cares?”
“And has that method been working wonders for you?”
He stared up into the air. “Sorta. Only because ponies do have a good reason to object to me.”
“And why's that?”
“It's because I'm boring.” Spike put his cup on the table, clasping his claws together before it. “Ponies aren't wrong to think that. Sometimes, when I talk to myself for long stretches, even I start to snore.” He shook his head. “Even this is boring me. I actually feel bad from holding you up.”
I shook my head. “You are not holding me from anything. My journey does not begin again for another month.” I lifted the coffee to my lips, inhaling the scent. It swept through my body, making me feel alive. “You also make good coffee. Your ranting can be forgiven for that.”
“The dragon who liked to make coffee.” I watched him from over the rim of my cup, seeing him shake his head. “See! I'm good at helping around.” He sighed. “But ask me to be interesting or entertaining, or anything that relies on me being, well, me?” He threw his claws up. “I'm useless!”
My second return trip to Ponyville was certainly more strange than the first, but for whatever reason, I enjoyed it slightly more.
“I can understand your plight, young one.” I placed my cup on the table as well, as I have been informed, showing one's hooves was a sign of mutual respect for one another. “In my personal opinion, you have chosen correctly. Self-improvement offers direction and purpose to those who seek and embark on it.”
He laughed. “My thoughts exactly!”
“But I still can't understand why you would choose me for this mission.” I wanted to stick my tongue out after having said that; some of my old personality still liked to show itself. “Have you noticed how often we've been alone? This is my second day here, and yet, the girls have not taken much interest in me.” Simple speech, Tempest, simple speech. “I do not have much of his character or personality to offer you.”
“You've still got something about you,” Spike went on as he held up a claw, “even if it's below the surface.” He let his claw drop, and for the first time in over a year, I had someone compliment me. It felt... nice. “Not only that, but you're a badass too! You've directed troops, you've trained your body to its peak, you've been around the world—“
“Seizing towns with the assistance of near brain-dead brutes,” I said. “Intelligence, in its simplest form, came from the Storm King and Grubber. The former is no more and the latter has found enjoyment in Manehattan.” I allowed myself to slouch only for a moment, gazing down at the fur on my chest. “All that remains of me is the physical reward of hard labor.”
“And the discipline to get stuff done!” Spike said, excitement in his voice, though sounding innocent in nature. “And sure you did some bad stuff! But you're better for it now. You could fight anypony, outrun almost everyone, and plus, you're good at commanding stuff!”
He clasped his claws together, looking to get down on his knees. “You don't understand! Those are the things I need to get popular! Will you please share your secrets? Please, train me!”
I looked up from my chest to see green eyes staring back at me. They had a slight glow to them, both set on me. My heart fluttered at being wanted, but I sat straight, knowing I had someone who requested me once again. Even though I'd lost my command a long time ago, there was a recruit presenting himself before me.
“What is it exactly you demand of me?”
“Everything!”
“Please be more exact.”
“I wanna be stronger!” He scraped his chair along the floor, coming a foot away from the table. “These arms are totally small! What kind of mare would I attract with these?” He gave a flex and pump to his right arm, and though some muscles popped out, it wasn't enough to fill out along his arm... or be proportional to the rest of his body. “I need to get these babies pumped or I'm toast!”
“So biceps and triceps training is what you require?”
“Not even close! I want you to work me to the grave!” He made a fist and pounded it against his chest. “My chest has gotta be big enough for me to play the drums on.” He flicked a talon against his abdomen. “My stomach should be showing off a six-pack twenty-four-seven, all seven days of the week, no excuses.”
“Upper body routine then?”
“We're not even close to finishing.” He let his claws drop onto his thighs. “These legs better be fast enough to dash me through a field, strong enough to knock someone back with a kick, and thick enough to launch me to the moon.”
“You have unrealistic expectations.”
“...that moon part was a joke.”
“Oh.”
Wandering the lands rendered me slightly clueless about social cues. It was safe to say the dragon was getting a bit over his head, but if I was being honest, the mental picture he was painting was quite attractive.
I must admit I did not think much of him when we met. Not the first time, or the last time, or any of the time between. I meant him no harm. We never had a reason to speak. He was, much like me, the kind to help from the shadows... lonely in the darkness.
But I could see the potential in his body. He had a decent frame that needed to be filled in. Putting on muscle would be his first goal. He didn’t have anything that drew gazes toward him, but if he put some weight in all the right places—and lost some from his face—I could see him being sharp enough to draw some eyes.
And the mental picture itself was enough to draw me toward him. It gave me something to do for the month I was set to recover here. Having a goal in mind, as well as someone to join me in my training... I don't know why, but the prospect got me excited.
The more I stared at Spike, the more I saw beyond the surface. I saw a dragon that was bored and feeling useless, a dragon that wanted to improve, a dragon that didn’t know where to go. That all changed when he sat down in front of me. Even his weirdness and absurdity made sense the more I thought about his reasoning.
There was also something else about him that caught my eye. He was smooth with his movements, witty with his speech, and his eyes could glow and command if he used them correctly. He wasn't a dragon, at least, in the most respect dragons were held.
And that was both his greatest weakness and strength. The dragons I met could never calm themselves down to be conscious of their flaws. To read, learn, apply and try to be better than what they were before. He had a potential spectrum in both being a dragon and a pony, and because of that, it made him both unique and an outsider.
A dynamic situation I understood all too well.
There was more to him that I was wanting to learn. Too many similarities between us that'd gone unnoticed by my eyes. Could there have been a friend between us that could break through this rock that I had through me? He cut through my stoicism and awkwardness with his acceptance of his own absurdity.
I was quite taken by the trait... for whatever reason.
“If you are able to summon the willpower needed to complete my course,” I said to Spike, finding myself smiling as I did so, “I will make a dragon out of you.” I held my hoof forward. “You will train with me for a month. We'll see about getting you those results.”
Spike said something to me that I'd never heard in my life.
“Tempest, you’re the best!”
His claws came over my hoof, his talons clamping around it, holding it. With a shake, the deal was done, the month was set, and the training had just begun.
For both of us.
