The inside of the fortress was unusually cold for this time of day. The clammy darkness clung to our heroes’ throats and a chilling breeze blew from the end of the lighted tunnel to rake past their barrels and deliver a startling chill up our heroes’ spines.

The very earth beneath their claws seemed to thrum with its very own life as the oppressive weight of the sleeping giant pressed down on the foundations of the castle beneath.

Slowly, with the careful touch of a feather, Ember the Brave crept through the darkness with her protégé in kind, approaching the gates to Tartarus where the sleeping King lay.

This was it; the time of reckoning. This was the moment that our heroes have been training their entire lives for, the coup de grace. The castle of the seven sisters was nothing compared to this tall order that was the Dungeon Master’s Ke—

CRASH

“Ow!”

The deafening crash of pots and pans, and the loud slam of somepony going through the table jolted Spike out of his seat. The dragon yelped a guttural—manly, not at all girlish in nature—squeal as he flung the controller out of his claws and launched himself away from the gaming screen, toppling the chair backwards in the process.

He landed on his back in the dark with a thud, the blankets draped over him forming a prison from which only the greatest of escape artists could hope to break free, whilst the clattering continued unabated from outside his bedroom door.

A booming mare’s voice croaked with laughter through his electronic headset. “Ha! Ha! HA!”

Spike cupped his claws over his face and moaned. “Noooo! Not now! Can’t I just have one night without this bullsh—”

“The pwnage hast been DOUBLED! Aahahahaha!”

~ ~ ~

The door creaked as Starlight Glimmer pushed it out of the way with her magic, taking the first tentative steps into her own home. The darkness and the cold air felt alien to her. What was normally the warm, welcoming embrace of safety after a long day of work felt hostile and scary. It was unfamiliar and judging; as if ponies were watching the shadows and shaking their heads in shame at the sight of a pony skulking like this into their own little cave. It was truly like she was trespassing in another pony’s yard, and that feeling alone, with the weight of her guilt—and the prospect of facing what she’d never even thought of doing a week ago—had Starlight’s stomach clenching and her gut twisting.

Starlight considered for a moment, pulling back, but she knew it was already too late—she’d started this. She had to see it through, even if the ending wasn’t something she wanted to face—even if Twilight might end up rejecting her, she owed that much to herself to even give it a chance.

If they hung around for just a minute longer the guards would surely find them. Ponies would get curious, and then the real trouble would begin. So she steadied her breath, taking a second to clear her thoughts—This is it, Starlight, all you have to do is keep your cool, keep your cover—She took a lung-full of air and the moment her eyes adjusted to the light inside, she pushed the door the rest of the way and stepped through, gesturing Chocolate to her side.

The stallion appeared behind her, stepping lightly on the tiles as he glanced left and right, stammering as he whispered, “St-Starlight?”—His hoof brushed against the mare’s hocks in the dark, causing her to flinch, and he to tense. “A-Are you sure this is the right way?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Starlight Glimmer hissed, keeping her voice and her head low as she led the way through the castle’s kitchen. Her tail flicked, and a shiver ran up her spine from Chocolate’s breath against her dock—though she ignored it and pushed forward, keeping her tail low against her legs,

There was something strange here.

Pots and pans lay piled high on the countertops around them, most of them in varying levels of use. The ovens were opened, and seemed to be half-primed, and the pantry door was left ajar, a single bag slumped in the gap holding it wide.

A spoon, fresh with lick-marks, dripped cake mix onto the floor below, creating a metronomic tack, tack, tack in the calm and quiet.

What had happened here? The kitchen had never been this dirty, and Twilight, being the neat freak that she was, would never allow any part of the kitchen to fall into disarray—even with Pinkie around the place was left spick-and-span!

There was a loud CRASH and a clattering of pots and pans that sent Starlight flying—“Yah!” She yelped and ducked. A wooden spoon whipped past her head, inches from her mane, and stuck itself into a cabinet door as Starlight spun around to face the racket behind her.

“S-S-Sorry!” Chocolate Ganaché squeaked his apologies as he grappled with several metal pans in his forelegs. As he danced from one hoof to another, the various objects clattered and fell, rattling a deafening blow that caused Starlight’s mane prickle even more than it already was.

“What are you doing!?” she screamed, just barely keeping her voice below a whisper.

“This place was a mess! They were all over the floor and I couldn’t—“

“Stop.” Starlight silenced him with a sharp point of her hoof, and the two of them went rigid as there was a snort and the grumbling of somepony outside.

A guard’s voice cracked through the doorway behind them, grousing in a hoarse tone, “...and no more leaving your posts, Stallions,” he said, talking to somepony on the far side of the wall.

There were several exasperated groans, and a rumbling of hooves—“Eee-” Chocolate squeaked, but was cut off with a hoof over his mouth. Starlight gave him a short glare, holding up her other hoof in a shushing motion whilst the stallion spoke.

She used a little magic to push the door closed, narrowing the beam of light just enough to obscure their forms, moments before a dark shadow moved in front of the light, eclipsing the sun from outside—It looked almost like the captain from before, but this silhouette was taller, more defined, with a more chiselled, muscled visage as he inspected the door.

“And who left the back door open?” he cried—both of their hearts jumped into their throats as the stallion’s form got closer. There was a rattling as somepony grasped the door handle from the other side.

Starlight had to hold her breath, forcing herself to stay still—If they did anything now, if they moved even so much as a single muscle, they guards would have heard them—She cast a glance to Chocolate, his expression grim and creased as their eyes met. She hated to see him like this, thinking it was her own fault in the first place.

“Ch-Chocolate...” she whispered. His ears perked, the pans held tight in his hooves as he looked Starlight in the eyes—tears forming at her own as a magic glow took shape on the door’s lock.The hinges creaked. “...I-I’m sorry. I have to tell you the truth. I—”

The door snapped shut with a shuddering clunk, and the rolling of tumblers, as the lock was set in place with a sealing enchantment, then his voice returned, cutting Starlight off. It was muffled by the thick slab of crystalline gem, yet still clear enough to be music to Starlight’s ears. “Imagine what could have happened if somepony had found this!” he shouted—A thump was felt through the ground as somepony stomped on the pavement outside—“What if somepony had somehow snuck past in the time we’ve been gone and found their way into the castle!”

He stomped again and Starlight and Chocolate shared a glance—her cheeks burning red. Starlight was grateful for the darkness, and the extra-thick foot of solid stone between themselves and the livid stallion outside as he screamed, raged: “This is simple, basic, shi...“

His voice trailed off into the distance as Starlight and Chocolate were left in stunned silence. She breathed a sigh of relief; letting the moment pass and carry with it the heat from her cheeks whilst Chocolate heaved. “Whew...” He let the pans down slowly, clattering them one at a time to the floor in neat piles. “That sure was—”

“Stop,” Starlight repeated, her voice stern, holding up a hoof as Chocolate froze up once again. She wiped her forehead and brushed the bangs out of her face. No big surprises when her hocks came back dripping with sweat. “J-Just stop. I—” She caught herself, then corrected: “We need to think this through.”

“Of course.” Chocolate blinked. He looked at Starlight, and she couldn’t avoid glancing at the slight tinge in his cheeks. “Wh-What were you saying?”

Starlight’s cheeks burst into a deep shade of red and she quickly stammered, her voice cracking as she whispered, almost yelped: “N-n-n-nothing!” she said, then quickly rounded back, sitting on her flanks as she rubbed her hoof against her temples—Breath, Starlight, breath—“I-It’s not important. Listen: we need to break up—”

The room fell into awkward silence as Chocolate’s cheeks burned even redder, almost reaching his cheeks. She could have sworn she saw something move down... below. Starlight quickly backpedalled, waving her hooves as she muttered, “W-w-we need to split up!”—Oh Celestia the flying buck has gotten into you, Starlight! “The castle is huge, a-and the thrones room is on the ground floor.

“Our best chances of finding T—Princess Twilight”—Keep it together, Starlight—“are if we find her first.”—And maybe if I find her before you, I can find a way of fixing this mess without embarrassing myself.

“S-So—” Starlight’s grin widened as she patted down her mane, straightening out the curls and loose ends as she suppressed her jitters. “I can take the east wing, you can take the west, and we can meet up back there in the middle. H-How does that sound?”

Chocolate’s demeanour didn’t seem to change as he mulled over her words. Even in the dim light, she could see the crease form in his eyebrows, and the subtle ‘hmm...’ of thought.

Starlight tapped her hooves together, retaining her nervous grin as she patiently—not so patiently—awaited his response.

The stallion nodded. “I... guess that makes sense...” he said. He glanced to the pans clutched against his chest, breathed in, and exhaled. The next words had Starlight’s heart jump an octave. “But... how do we know where the thrones room is?”

Starlight waved, rolling her eyes. “Pfft—Please. It’s right down the foyer, underneath the stairs on the left. You can’t miss it.” Chocolate’s eyebrows rose slightly, and Starlight coughed into her hoof, widening her grin as she giggled. “...is what the pamphlet said!” She nodded. Yes. “Yes. They have very accurate floor plan diagrams.”

“...Right.”

~ ~ ~

We return to our mighty heroes as they embark on a journey fraught with danger and death-defying feat. Spikitus the dragon-mage wonder, slayer of mares and befriender of foes, snuck heroically through the shadows, his erect staff at the ready, his heart pounding with every step as the castle’s imposing force hung over him like an ever-present, disapproving force.

His claws tightened around the rod, pulling on his shaft with his mighty, shaky tug of bravery, his magics building to overflowing—Spells and incantations, plans that led to disaster swirled through our hero’s vision as he held his breath, brow furrowed, beading with sweat as he lay in wait.

He inhaled slightly. The musty scent of old books, tomes, and scrolls filled his lungs; the burning of incense, jasmine and coriander, burned at the entrance to his nostrils whilst the wizard’s beast, a minotorian guard from the depths lumbered through the shadows.

Its presence was like nothing our mighty saviour had ever experienced—always there, always watching, following with a silent and lumbering gait. It had taken all of Spikitus’ bravery and wit to lead the monster into his trap—the reading chambers were the beast’s one true weakness.

All he needed now was a plan, a spell that would fell the—

“Will you stop that!?” Spike hissed into his microphone as he scurried back into the shadows, just barely missing the pony’s eyes. His spines bristled at the sound of yet more books falling, the scurrying of hooves against the plush of the carpet as whoever was in the room shuffled between the shelves and out of sight.

Taking the chance, Spike jumped from behind the bookcases, ducked, and rolled to a stop behind one of the back pillars, pinning his back to the crystalline formation just as the pony looked up from whatever he had been doing.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his panting—he could feel the pony’s eyes burning into the back of his head through the pillar.

There was a sigh, more movement, and the softt shuffling of hooves.

There was another thunk, and the hissing of curses as the mysterious figure moved between the bookshelves, but it was slowly getting further away—thankfully, the library was large enough that more than two ponies could get lost inside. Ignoring the disturbances, Spike let out his breath, sighing as he slid to the floor, back to the wall—both literally and figuratively. He wiped a claw across his forehead, flicked away the sweat, then, taking one more look to be certain, cupped his hooves over the microphone and pressed the speaking button at the side of his head.

He whispered: “There’s somepony in the castle”—A pause—“They’re looking for something, I don’t know what. Think—” There was the shuffling of boxes that interrupted Spike’s thought.

A loud thunk echoed through the library behind him, like something hard against a shin, and Spike’s body tensed when the room was alight with the guttural howls of a creature writhing in pain. The bone-chilling sobbing, and the angry cries of somepony tossing a coffee table out of his way had Spike rooted to the ground.

He blanched, swallowing the lump in his throat again. Voice shaking, he said, “I-I don’t know who it is.”

He released the speaking button, and there was a moment of silence as the speakers crackled with static in his head. The airwaves filled with silence, bound by the thumping of hooves and of Spike’s heart in his ears.

He could have sworn the pony was getting closer—no, he knew the pony was getting closer.

Suddenly the speakers crackled to life with a familiar mare’s voice. “O-Okay,” she said, “Just a sec.” There was another moment of oppressive silence as the pony on the other end got into position. The shuffling of papers and the rolling of a chair were just heard through the static when the voice finally returned, crackling as she said: “Tell me where you are”—A pen clicked—“Describe your surroundings.”

“Uh... uh...” Spike looked up and around, frantically taking in his surroundings. There was nothing but purple shelves upon purple shelves of old books, the shimmering crystalline walls of the castle reflecting his own scared face back at him. A stained glass window shone from the right, bathing the narrow hallway in a shimmering of yellow and gold light whilst a distant chanting far off in the distance reminded him of the outside world and its troubles.

“I—I’m in the library,” he finally said, whispering directly into the mouthpiece as he made himself small against the pillar. “I’m at the back, in the corner behind a support beam.”

“Good”—There was some scribbling, and then she came back. “What about the pony? What do they look like? Describe in as much detail as you can and tell me what they’re doing.”

Spike screwed his eyes shut, probing his mind for what he’d seen earlier. He’d only gotten a glance before he—bravely—turned tail and ran for the library. All he could really make out was that he was a pony, not any he recognised, and he was—“H-He’s tall. Nearly twice my size, b-but shorter than Twilight...”

“Tall. Got it.”

“...a-and—“ There was a clap of hooves on tiles as the pony travelled from the center of the library into one of its farther wings. Spike breathed in, holding the floor-plan in his mind—Everywhere on this side was carpeted, he had to remind himself, the pony wasn’t about to find him now. “I remember he looked heavy built, k-kind of like Applejack, but y-you know, a guy—“

“Strong, yes, and?”

Spike glanced out from behind the pillar, just long enough to get a glimpse of the stallion as he trotted through the center of the library—He squinted to see in the light, and the figure paused in the middle of the open floor, looking sideways like one ought to do.

“Brown. M-Mostly non-descript. I think his mane is a little curly, and it has darker highlights”—When the pony’s head turned, Spike pulled himself back behind cover, panting as he said, “—a-and a nose-ring, I think.”

“A nose-ring? That sounds a little O.O.C but okay.” There was the turning of pages and the discrete creak of a book’s spine being broken—The very sound alone gave Spike chills. “I have tall, strong, and handsome. And weapons?”

“W—w—” Spike’s pupils shrank. “I don’t know! I think he’s unarmed!”

“No, you, STDragon! Look around. Do you see anything you can use to fight back?”

Spike spun around and put his head to the wall, wincing as somepony grumbled a series of words he couldn’t make out—at this rate the stallion was going to find him and he’d be unable to stop him, or warn Twilight, or anypony. But fight? “Fight?” he echoed into the mic, “D-Do you think—“

“Hello?” The mare’s voice cut him off and Spike winced.

Spike took another breath. Holding his head against the cool stone, he pressed a claw down on the speaking button, reserving himself. “O-Okay,” he said, voice trembling.

Releasing the speaking button, his claws traced down the wall, searching for something—He’d seen it before, though it had never registered in his mind that he’d need it, that he’d need to—He swallowed—Fight.

You never expected a baby dragon to fight, for Celestia’s sake! He’d always had Twilight and her friends to back him u—to hide behind, he admitted.

His claws settled on a cold metal object, wrapping around the wooden handle at the top near his waist. It felt old, dusty and dry under his grasp. The wood of the handle had cracked and split over the ages from disuse, but it still did its job, like the faithful assistant.

The metal hooks on the wall resisted, then bent as they gave up their charge.

“I—I think I got something,” he said, finally, pulling the implement up underneath him, in the crux of space between his body and the wall.

“What is it?”

“A metal bar—” Spike said, turning the handle over in his grip—“Has two prongs on the end and a hardened wood handle. Looks like a fork.”

“That’s a flame-poker. You must have a fireplace nearby, that’s good. How strong is it?”

Spike turned back around, putting his back to the wall and turned his eyes down, turning the fork over in his claws. It was black, slightly mottled. “I think it’s cast-iron.”

The other pony sighed, and Spike could have sworn he heard her rolling her eyes through the speakers. “Yes, yes, I get it. But how strong is it? What level?”

“Level?” Spike eyebrows rose, then, remembering the button, he pressed his free claw to the headphones and repeated, deadpanned, “’Level’?”

“Okay, okay, roll for luck then. Maybe if you get a twenty you can—“

“Wh—” Spike did a double-take. He slammed his claw against the speaking button, cupping his other claw over the speaking bit with the fire-poker dangling to the side. He whispered, piercingly, and as harshly as he could without giving away his location. “MySistersAssIsSoFat, do you think this is a game!?” he hissed.

There was an inhale from the other end, but Spike continued unabated. “We’re not playing Dungeons & Discords here, for Celestia’s sake! This is serious! There’s somepony in my house!”

He released the speaking button as the headphones went silent, static filling the space as the other pony took their time thinking.

Pages ruffled and Spike was about to relax when he realised it wasn’t through the headphones. He tensed, looking up to see the pony skulking through the corridor directly adjacent to him—moments before the pony turned right and went down another way, narrowly missing Spike’s position.

Finally, the other pony spoke up. “Wait...” she said, “...we’re not?”

“No!” Spike facepalmed, narrowly missing his eyes with the end of the fire-poker.

He was already fuming when the mare started up again, hurriedly saying, “Oh, uh---I am so, so sorry—I had no idea we were—“

“Buck it.” Spike swore.

“Wait, d—”

He pulled the headphones from his head and tossed them to the ground, breathing in the fresh air, and taking in the silence. Without the muting effects of the gaming set, he was finally able to hear the outside world more clearly—the ruffling of hooves against the carpet, the distant chant of Twilight’s fanbase and the terrified squeals of the castle guards. All of it came back to him loud and clear. Ponies were still lining up outside for Twilight’s first-ever open court, not that he ever thought there was going to be any chance of that happening today. He sighed.

They all should have gone home long ago, but maybe that was just it. Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, the only mother Spike had ever known, was never a pony to give up. She always faced adversity, always had a plan and found some way to come out on top.

In a way, it was only fitting that the ponies she led would be like her: stubborn to a T and never willing to back down nor admit defeat, even in the face of certain danger. In a way, maybe he and they could be more alike.

For Twilight.

“I’m going for it.” Spike said, to nopony in particular.

Steadying his nerves, Spike clenched his claws around the rod, pulling on his shaft with the mighty tug of bravery, his magics building to overflowing—His heart was pounding and thoughts swirling through his head. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

This was the day a baby became a boy.

Spike breathed in, letting the scent of smoke fill his nostrils, and the burning embers of his flame ignite inside his heart. The fire-poker—his weapon of choice, slung over his shoulder, Spike stepped out from behind the pillar.

He threw his head back. Taking a deep breath, and billowing flamed from his nostrils he let loose his mightiest war-cry as Spike barrelled into the open, screaming at the top of his lungs. “AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

His waddle broke into a canter, and then a run as he swooped between bookshelves and bookcases, eyes squeezed shut and fork swinging wildly. He slipped through a box or two, and sent a book flying, pages flying in his wake as he barrelled towards his prey.

Spike heaved, and put all of his strength into one mighty strike, channelling the weight of his ancestors, the power of the Dragon Lord, into his nimble lathe.

The air rushed, his heart pounding and his weapon swooping as it cut through empty air. He took down a stack of books and rounded back, avoiding the couches and cushions as Spike’s assault slowed with his canter.

He came to a halt in the middle of the library's reading section, his heart pounding and his breathing coming in ragged breaths as he surveyed the wreckage. The burning in his lungs was intense, and he had to catch his breath as he looked around himself.

The library was an absolute mess—He gulped down a gasp of air, allowing himself to slump, and his spines to relax back to their resting position—Stacks of books and boxes littered the floor, interspersed by the occasional burning incense and couch cushion—some of which sporting a fresh stab wound.

Aside from the stabbing, it all looked normal, unchanged, business as usual for any living-space one had to share with the princess of friendship, and his resident bookworm of a mother. There was only one thing that was off, one thing that gave Spike pause.

He looked around again, his spines wilting with every pass of his eyes. He frowned, lowering the fork to the ground, and scratched the back of his head in a disappointed—albeit relieved fashion.

Spike was alone.

“Wh-Where did he go?”

Author's Note

Whew. Almost a full year since I last updated this one. So much has changed. Sorry for the delay everyone!

I may have gotten a little side-tracked there into Spike's adventure, but I promise the next chapter will have more Star/Trix/Chocolatey goodness! I swear!