Diplomacy

by 8686

Rating: everyone
Tags: Princess Celestia, Ember, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Luna, Drama, Spike
Length: 51210

When a fearsome group of dragons arrive over Canterlot with no warning, ponies begin to panic. Faced with an uncertain threat, the Princesses call on their trusted friend Spike for advice. Good choice, right?

The surprise arrival of a group of fearsome dragons over Canterlot precipitates a panic in Equestria's capital. With tensions running high, a response needed and almost no information to work with, the Princesses reach out to the only pony they can call on for help.

Thrust into a precarious maze of political imperitives and Phyrric choices, where the wrong word said at the wrong moment could begin a war, Spike must use all of his wits to bring the two sides together peacefully. He knows it's possible... but he seems to be the only one who does.

Published 2019-04-14 13:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-04-24 19:32:33 UTC

Know Thy Enemy and Know Thyself

“Spike, you’re letting this go to your head. She called you ‘sir’ because she was being polite. Not because she thought you were a knight!”

“Who’s to say what she thought? Me, a handsome dragon, living in a castle, protecting a princess—”

“Protecting!?”

“What else is she gonna think? I’m practically a knight already with those qualifications. I’m tellin’ you, if she’d known my name, she totally would have gone with, Sir Spike. Now if only there were some Royalty around to make the whole thing official...”

“She could just as easily have gone with, ‘sir, which way to the bathroom?’” argued Twilight. “Spike, Equestria doesn’t have an order of chivalry like that. We don’t do ‘knights’.”

“I could be the first!” grinned Spike. “Come on, tell me you can’t picture it: ‘Who’s that brave knight coming over the hill? Guardian of Harmony. Defender of Equestria. Look, it’s Sir Spike on his gallant steed, Twilight!’”

“I am not your gallant steed!” snapped Twilight.

“Aw, c’mon Twilight. Don’t do yourself down. You’re pretty gallant,” he said with a perfectly-weighted smile. Wry, cocky, yet somehow endearing.

“Spike, I—!” Twilight began, fuming, then cut herself off. And there it was. A tiny hitch. A halted sentence. An expression that was just ever-so-briefly confused and then a tiny smile. A tickled chuckle heard from the back of her throat.

Aced it again. Pushed his luck right to the edge and then clawed it back. Twilight-baiting was great sport and he was a master at the game. He’d probably get a couple of extra chores heaped on him now, but oh, the satisfaction. Not that it was malicious. Just the kind of teasing that only the closest of friends or family ever really shared. A little devilish fun now and again. Sometimes he lost and sometimes he won, and this one was shaping up very well indeed as he continued smirking.

But Twilight wasn’t defeated and she put on her own clever smirk to rival his. “You know, if you want to do your bit protecting Equestria, and have the respect that comes with a rank, you could join the Royal Guard Cadets.”

“Join the Royal Guard so I can spend all day in a palace doing whatever a princess tells me to do? That’s my life anyway. I don’t need the constant getting-yelled-at and uncomfortable armour to have that experience.”

“Too bad, but there’s still no such thing as knights, so I guess you’ll just have to settle for being plain ol’ ‘Great and Honourable Spike, the Brave and Glorious’.”

Spike raised a claw, stopped, blinked, and closed his mouth. Huh. Way to pull it out of the bag Twilight. His smile remained though it turned less cocky, more nuanced. A smile that was returned.

Twilight pivoted away, turning back towards the large, round library table currently festooned with lists, books, diagrams and more spread all over. “Now let’s get back to work. We’ve got a lot more to do before the yaks and the buffalo arrive.”

“You mean like screwing everything heavy to the ground?”

“Don’t be facetious, Spike. It’s exciting. Imagine: two noble tribes with so much in common are going to meet for the first time ever right here in Ponyville!”

“These would be the yaks who, the first time we met them, went on a rampage and nearly destroyed the castle, meeting the buffalo who – the first time we met them – went on a rampage and nearly destroyed a small town? And you want to put them in the same room together? I’m just saying, on paper, it doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Those were all misunderstandings and we solved them. Come on Spike, it’s going to be fine. And besides, you said you were looking forward to seeing Little Strongheart again. And by the end of it, yaks, ponies and buffalo will all be the best of friends!” said Twilight with enthusiasm, looking towards the ceiling, her eyes wide and pupils glistening with happy passion.

“The Chief meets the Prince meets the Princess, all under one roof. Shame there’s no Knight to complete the set...” Spike offered with another wry smirk.

Twilight turned back to him with a level, reproachful frown. He maintained his smug grin and waited. One of them would break first. He just had to hold fast a little longer and then Twilight would roll her eyes, turn away again, and that would be a win.

Suddenly a familiar tickle in the back of his throat caused his eyes to snap involuntarily wide. He only had a split-second to realise that he was about to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory before, inevitably...

—URRRPP!

His maw opened and he belched loudly to the accompaniment of a coil of dark grey smoke riding a lick of green flame. The smoke twirled and condensed and in the space of half a second thick air became tiny specks of ash became flakes of papyrus became scraps of paper until, with a final, subtle flash of white light, reformed in the air before him was a pristine scroll. Rolled parchment bound with red ribbon and bearing a familiar horse-shoe seal in gold.

Muscle-memory took over then, and Spike plucked it from the air with a deft claw before it could fall to the ground even as Twilight was heard to cry, “A letter from Princess Celestia!”

Why she still used her ‘surprised’ voice for it, especially after all these years, was completely beyond him. He flashed her the briefest of despairing glances before his claws made short work of the seal and ribbon. Unfurling the scroll, he dutifully began to read.

The first lines of pro forma were always the same, so he skipped them in favour of getting straight to the important part. There wasn’t much to the note; it was a fairly short and to-the-point missive, though oddly pleading in tone. Rather than read the whole thing aloud he elected to distill the salient point for Twilight as he raised his gaze from the paper to meet hers. “It looks like you’re needed in Canterlot.”

Twilight missed a beat and blinked once. “Now?! With a buffalo-yak-pony summit imminent and tons of preparation still to do?!” She took a deep, calming breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth, raising and extending her hoof in sync with her movements; a stress-calming habit she had picked up that seemed to work for her, even if he wasn’t sure exactly how. “Okay, I’ll get hold of Pinkie, Applejack and Rarity on the way to the station. Between the three of them they should be able to follow my notes and at least get the preparations underway. With luck this trip won’t take long and I can still be back to host the gathering. Spike? Can you fetch me my—?”

“Saddlebags, got it,” said Spike, who had walked across the room to the door already. He pulled it open and stepped through, making for Twilight’s bedroom.

Five minutes later he returned to the library, arms full and hauling Twilight’s saddlebags packed full with Short Trip Loadout Number One, and shoved his way through the door, shoulder first.

Inside he caught sight of Twilight looking at him rather oddly. The scroll they’d received was held in her aura and she had obviously been reading it. The musical little thrum of her magic was the only sound until she spoke.

“Put those bags down, Spike. I’m not going to Canterlot.”

“Twilight? Is something wrong?”

“You missed out a pretty important part of the letter,” she admonished.

Spike winced a little under her stare. “Whoa, T-Twilight, c’mon. You know I’d never keep anything like that from you. Right?” The bond of trust they shared allowed for no room in misrepresenting anything that Princess Celestia might ask of Twilight. If he had missed something, Twilight had to know it was an accident, right? But the letter was so short – how could he have?

“Read it again,” she said as the scroll wafted its way back towards him and he took it from her magic.

Spike did as he was asked, his eye naturally snapping to the meat of the text;

If you are at all able, I would greatly appreciate your assistance regarding an urgent matter in Canterlot. A very delicate situation has arisen. One that must be addressed and I know of no other I can better ask for advice.

Please.

Your friend,

Princess Celestia.

“I... sorry, I don’t get it,” said Spike, scratching his head with a claw and looking back at Twilight.

“You don’t notice anything unusual about it at all?”

“Huh? Not really. Well, okay, it’s a little more informal than some, and that Please right at the end there is a little odd. But she’s asking for your help. That’s not unusual. I don’t get why you’re not going.”

Twilight gave him a mildly-annoyed frown. “Read it again Spike.”

Spike offered a confused frown but nevertheless read the letter a third time and found no new information. “Twilight, whatever it is, I am really not seeing it.”

“Spike: it’s addressed to you.”

* * *

The next hour passed in a blurred whirlwind. After the initial surprise, Spike ballooned with confidence, bravado and more than a little smugness that he was being the one being called on to go. Nevertheless he graciously extended an invitation to accompany him on his crucial royal visit to his oldest and closest friend. And was a little surprised when she declined.

“There’s so much to do here,” she had said. “Besides it’s not your first trip up there without me, and if Princess Celestia asked for you specifically, I’m sure there’s nothing that you can’t handle by yourself,” she said with a reassuring smile.

They had a little debate then, about the fact that just because she hadn’t been told to go didn’t mean she couldn’t, or shouldn’t, go. A miniature re-run of an argument they had had before, when the Map had sent two of their friends off to some exotic, inspiring locale. Spike could never understand why she never went too. Surely the Map didn’t mind a pony tagging along just to sight-see? But Twilight was as unmoved by his logic now as then. At least this time she could cite important business that she had to undertake. Then she had ushered him off to pack: if Princess Celestia needed him, he couldn’t keep her waiting. And with that he could not argue.

He had spent the next twenty minutes in his room, staring at his empty satchel. He could not for the life of him think what he might need. He had been given no information as to why he had been asked to go, and so he had no clue as to what might be useful once he arrived. He briefly thought about simply transposing the whole of Short Trip Loadout One into his own backpack, except while Twilight undoubtedly would have thought she needed the Magical Creatures Compendium Vol. I-III (abridged), a wealth of scrolls and quills, and other things that she (always) considered essential, he could not fathom what use he would have for any of that. And so in the end he ended up packing nothing. There was nothing he would need in Canterlot that he couldn’t find once he was there, he decided. It was where he’d lived for years before following Twilight to Ponyville. He knew the city well.

So he left his empty bag behind and, with a final stop at the library for Twilight to wish him a cheery but still sincere, “Good luck,” he resolved to answer his epic calling with nought but his wits, charm and relentlessly good looks. He strode with a swagger through the castle foyer, ready to step outside and begin his noble mission in service of all of Equestria—

“Spike! There you are!” came a voice from behind, and then cantering hooves echoing as he turned.

“Huh? Starlight?”

Starlight Glimmer skidded to a stop, her hooves making a high-pitched, teeth-itching squeal against the impeccably polished crystal floor. She cast her glance around furtively, left and right. “Twilight’s not with you, is she?” she whispered.

“Nope. Library. Planning the big pow-wow that we all hope won’t turn into a pow-pow.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed, then met his gaze. “I really need your help! Do you know Rarity’s dress-size?!” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

“I... what? Uh... I dunno, like medium?”

She frowned at him. “That’s a ‘no’ then. Oh, what am I gonna do?!”

“Take a breath for a start,” he said, deadpan. “Starlight, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Twilight’s latest friendship mission—”

“Lesson,” he corrected.

She carried on, ignoring him and produced a scroll that she unfurled. “See? ‘Get each of your friends a present they will love. If they ask what it’s for, tell them it’s just because you love them.’” She stared at Spike as though that explained everything. Her eyes were still wide and she shifted her hooves nervously.

“Okay, no I don’t get it. What does this have to do with Rarity’s dress size?”

“Don’t you see?!” she cried. “If Rarity doesn’t love her gift, I fail the assignment! And how is Rarity going to love a dress that doesn’t fit? If it’s too big she’ll assume it’s because I think she looks fat – which I don’t! – and if it’s too small she’ll assume it’s because I’m trying to hint that I think she needs to lose weight – which I don’t!” she insisted.

“Okay. And... why go for a dress in the first place?”

“Weren’t you listening? It has to be a gift they’ll love! Rarity loves dresses. That’s her thing. So I have to get her a dress or it won’t be something she’ll love.”

Spike pressed a single clawtip to his forehead. Motioning Starlight to follow, he pushed open the large castle doors and stepped out into the sunlight. No reason they couldn’t walk and talk. “Starlight, here’s the thing: your friends aren’t just one-trick-ponies who like one thing. I mean, you wouldn’t get Applejack a bucket of apples for a present, right?”

“I wouldn’t? Uh... I mean of course I wouldn’t. Ha ha. So silly. Even though on the face of it that would be totally logical...”

Spike sighed. “Starlight, you’re overthinking things. Again. Here, I’ll let you in on a secret: your friends are going to love any gift you give them as long as you give it with love. But I really wouldn’t get Rarity a dress. She has enough of those...” he finished dryly.

“So what do I do?! I don’t have any other ideas!”

“Well, why not give her your time instead? Take her somewhere she likes to go; treat her and spend a day there with her. I guarantee she’ll love that.”

“The spa!” she exclaimed. “Spike, that’s a great idea!” She met his gaze with a softer look now. “Thanks, Spike. I mean, I know all this sounds trivial, but you’re a great friend to talk to about all this. Seriously... I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Ask Twilight?” he deadpanned again.

“I can’t ask Twilight,” she retorted. “If I ask her for help with easy things like this, she’ll think I’m only slacking because I’m not taking her lessons seriously! And what if she makes me prove I’m taking them seriously by giving me a test?!” She gasped in horror. “What if I don’t pass?!”

“Starlight, why would Twilight give you a test on friendship?”

“Because she’s my teacher, Spike! Do you know what teachers do to students who don’t pass?!”

How did this happen? “Starlight? Relax. Twilight is your friend first, and your teacher and a princess a distant second and third. If you need advice or help while I’m gone, do me a favour? Just ask her. Now I gotta go. There are other princesses who need my help, apparently, and they’re in another castle. I’ll see you when I get back. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks again, Spike,” she replied with a cheery wave. And with that he turned, heading for the train-station.

Yep, good ol’ Spike. Advice-giver, confidant; a dragon who could keep a cool head under any pressure. Resuming his royal mission to Canterlot to go to the aid of the most powerful pony in the land, and help in ways that only he, of all the creatures in Equestria, could. He swelled again. Spike The Dragon. Called forth for a mission just like a real knight, and answering without fear or hesitation, striding towards his destiny; to the fair yet embattled princess in yonder city—

“There he is!”

“Where?”

“Oh, I see him! Hey, Spike!”

A trio of jubilant voices carried to his ears, followed quickly by a trio of galloping ponies. They careered towards him, their little hoofbeats like miniature thunder, and when they reached him they fell into step and grinned a little too wide.

“Hi Spike!” said Scootaloo.

“How’s it goin’?” asked Apple Bloom, nonchalantly.

“We need your help!” blurted Sweetie Belle.

“Sweetie Belle!”

“What?”

Spike smiled and carried on walking. “Hey guys. Look, I’m sorta on my way to Canterlot on important business. I’m not sure I can help out with... whatever it is,” he said with apology.

“Oh, it’s not for now, it’s for this weekend,” said Sweetie Belle as the three fell into a relaxed stride alongside him. “See, we’re setting up different ‘events’ in town for all the blank-flanks.”

“So they can come along and try out different stuff to see if they can earn their cutie-marks, just like we always used to do!” said Scootaloo.

“And have fun while they’re doin’ it,” put in Apple Bloom. “And this weekend it’s Scootaloo’s turn, and she’s picked Ultra Pony Roller Derby. So anypony who thinks they might have a talent in that can come along an’ try it out!”

“But we need someone to commentate on the action,” said Sweetie Belle.

“We really wanna make the whole thing super slick. So we came to ask if you’d do it?” said Scootaloo.

“Please?” they all said, as one, grinning those sweet, innocent, highly persuasive grins, pearly-whites flashing and eyes filled with manipulative but oh-so-adorable hope.

“You came to ask me?” said Spike, a little surprised.

“Well, yeah,” said Scootaloo. “After all, you’re the go-to dragon when it comes to things like this.”

“Race-announcer, fashion-show compere, stage-play narrator...” offered Sweetie Belle.

“You’re the best at it, an’ we really wanna make it as good as it can be. So will ya help?” asked Apple Bloom sweetly.

Spike gave a little resigned sigh. Even had he wanted to say no his defences were no match for a triple-barrage of cute optimism. “Look, I don’t know how long I’m gonna be away. I don’t even really know why I’m needed yet. But if it’s not gonna take too long and I’m back by the weekend then, yeah, I’ll be there,” he finished with a smile.

“Yes!”

“Awesome!”

“Thanks, Spike. We knew you wouldn’t let us down. And good luck in Canterlot!” said Sweetie Belle. Then all three of them were turning and galloping away, making some comment about all the things they still had to do to get ready.

Spike turned and marched on to the rail-station, once more swelling up, his chest puffing out and his gait morphing into a confident strut. Yep, when ponies needed a good all-rounder; someone with a few skill-points in every talent tree, they came to ever-dependable Spike.

He finally reached the station platform, and by good fortune the Express bound for Canterlot was sitting there, waiting to depart. He showed the letter from Princess Celestia to the conductor who accepted it in lieu of a ticket and allowed him to board. And within minutes he was on his way.

He found a spare bench and settled in for the long but familiar ride up the mountain, ruminating on what the problem might be that only he could solve. He, Spike, noble and fearless friend; solver of problems, facer of dangers, preventer of freakouts. When he thought about it like that, it was a wonder that the Princess hadn’t come to him for advice more often. Well, maybe that’d change after he fixed this problem in a jiffy. Maybe he could be, like, a Royal Advisor or something. That would be—

“Hi, Spike!”

Whuh?

Dragged from his reverie once more, he looked up into a cheery, smiling muzzle and wide, crystal-blue eyes. “Minuette?”

“Yep! How you doin’ huh?”

“Oh, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“Me? Just heading back home after a few days in Ponyville with my besties. Be glad to get back though. Rumour is there’s some kind of trouble brewing up there.”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know! Exciting, right?” she cheered. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh. Princess Celestia wants to see me in Canterlot.”

“Ooh, wow. What for?”

“Uh... I’m not sure,” admitted Spike. “She didn’t exactly say in her letter.”

“Ooh. Top Secret Royal Business,” said Minuette with a wink and tapping her muzzle with a hoof in a manner conspiratorial. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine. She always did trust you with the important things. Remember the time when...?” Minuette trailed off, her gaze distracted and pulled hard towards something in the next carriage along. Something Spike couldn’t see. Suddenly her stance lowered, her brow furrowed into a determined frown, and she gave a little, confident grin. “Found you...” she said to herself.

“Uh, Min? Found what?”

“The snack-trolley.” She licked her lips. Then raised her head with a look of horror. “It’s getting away! Gotta go, Spike. If you need anything while you’re in Canterlot, don’t be a stranger, ‘kay?” she smiled, galloping away through the door into the next train car, towards what was surely about to be a very surprised treat vendor.

Spike returned to his musings. Minuette was right: Celestia had always trusted him with some pretty important stuff, especially while he and Twilight were still living in the city. And while Celestia sometimes made requests that put ponies a little beyond their comfort-zones, she never asked anything of anyone that she genuinely thought they couldn’t handle. So whatever she would be asking him for, it would be something he could totally manage. And he would get to show her just how loyal and trustworthy and resourceful and courageous and wise and generally gosh-darn amazing he was and still be back in time to help Twilight with the yaks and buffalo and the CMC’s with their roller-rink thing.

By the time the train pulled into the station, Spike was so puffed up he felt lighter than air. This was all coming together to be a good week to be Spike The Dragon.

* * *

As soon as the doors thunked open Spike sauntered off the train onto the platform, head high, arms bent at the elbows and self-assured grin firmly in place...

“Mommy, is... is that one of them...?”

“That’s... I think that’s Spike, sweetie. He’s been a friend to ponies. In the past.”

...hips swaggering, whistling a jaunty tune, making for the station exit and the general direction of the castle, its marble walls shining bright like a beacon under the stark sunlight...

“I imagine the Princesses sent for him?”

“Not sure it’s a good idea, bringing one of them here.”

...Spike The Dragon, back in the city where he was hatched, ready to do his part to help the Princess of the land like a real knight...

“What do you mean, ‘a spy’? That’s Spike.”

“It’s a dragon is what it is.”

...brave and chival...rous... huh?

His swagger dropped into an amble, and then to a plod, and then he halted entirely as the normal strains of ambient chatter began to coalesce. He looked around, suddenly uncertain.

Everypony in the station... they were all looking at him. In the instant until they caught him looking back he held the attention of every single one. Some beheld him with awe, others relief, and some others still, fear. That one got to him: some were afraid of him? The strange trance seemed to last only a moment, until they realised he had noticed and then, as one, they all tried to look elsewhere with exaggerated nonchalance and awkwardly carry on their business.

He would have asked someone what was going on, but nopony was close enough. Even as he walked through the station’s exit and onto the warm grass of Canterlot proper, nopony seemed willing to allow him to get close enough. Where he walked, ponies seemed to take the trouble to move aside, giving him a spacious dead-zone. So much space that he couldn’t simply yell a question twenty feet to a random stranger without being rude.

Then there was a new sound. A heavy, rhythmic, metallic clattering and the stomping of many broad hooves from off in the distance. His attention drawn, he looked up to see a squad of Royal Guards clad in their gold, shining armour bearing down on him, galloping from the direction of the palace.

Half-a-dozen armed and armoured ponies drew to a stop before him, loomed over him, and moved to surround him, spreading out as though they were afraid he might flee. It didn’t feel like a friendly greeting at all. It felt... daunting.

“Mr. Spike The Dragon? We’ve been ordered to take you to the Castle at once. Princess Celestia has summoned you,” said the pony stood directly in front of him. The one who was currently blocking his progress towards the castle. Oh irony, thy name is Lieutenant McGuardpony.

“Uh... yeah?” said Spike. “I know, she wrote me. I was just heading there. What’s going on?”

“I’m not at liberty to answer questions,” said the guard curtly, half-turning. “You will come immediately.”

Spike raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “Not even a ‘please’?” he said with a heavy sardonic timbre. Then his other eyebrow raised, and his arms fell slowly back to his sides; his mouth falling open a touch as what was actually happening hit home. “I... don’t have a choice here, do I?”

The lead pony fixed him with a hard, humourless stare, his jaw set and his mouth a thin line. “My orders are to escort you to the castle, and I intend to follow—”

“That is ENOUGH!” A new voice cut the air, further distant but more powerful. Commanding.

Every pair of eyes snapped up and around. Striding towards them across the grass, Princess Luna approached with her head high and an angry glare fixed. She stopped before the lead Guard, who had to finish turning around to face her and she drew herself up looking pointedly down her muzzle at him. He and the remainder of the half-dozen guards all bent their forelegs and bowed, showing due respect to the Princess towering over them. It seemed she had no intention of acknowledging the gesture.

“Stand away! Let him be, at once.”

The lead guard raised a nervous gaze to almost-meet hers. “Forgive me, your highness, but we were ordered directly by Princess Celestia to—”

“She did not order you to frog-march an innocent citizen of Equestria through this city as though a criminal!” Luna snapped. “Stand aside... now,” she seethed, her voice dropping, cold and icy.

“But we—”

“Unless you wish to disobey me?” she snarled. The lead pony quailed beneath her stern gaze and it was clear he had no interest in beginning an insurrection today.

“Of course not, your highness.”

“Have your company report to the armory and assist with the inventory. Move!” she snapped.

The chastised lieutenant raised his head, gave a quick signal to the rest of his number, and then the six ponies were trotting away. Half looked embarrassed, the other half annoyed as they left with their collective tails between their legs.

Spike stood rooted to the spot, frozen while Princess Luna’s severe face watched the retreating guards. His mind raced, his blood froze and seconds seemed to stretch to minutes as he waited for her icy gaze and annoyed scowl to fix on him. Was Celestia angry at him? Was Luna? Had he done something wrong?

But when Luna did look down, her expression changed entirely. A warm, welcoming smile spread, her steely expression softened and her eyes, radiant with familiar kindness, met his. She nodded deeply in greeting and when she spoke there was a measure of relief to her voice. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Spike.”

“Princess? What... are you doing here?” he managed to choke out through the surprise that strangled him.

“I am sorry if I have startled you. I am here personally because I wished to be sure you would see a friendly face on your arrival. Unfortunately with things as they are at the moment, I could not otherwise guarantee that would be the case. This is far from a normal day.”

She gave a weary sigh. “I apologise for the Guard’s behaviour,” she said, giving another quick glance after the now vanished troops. “Things here are tense and the Guard are under a great deal of pressure, thanks to me. I fear it is beginning to show. It appears they took my sister’s order to mean they should find and bring you to the castle as soon as physically possible – kicking and screaming if necessary. It was not meant that way.” She huffed and turned a rueful smile his way. “At least no harm was done. You are alright, I trust?” She began a slow walk towards the castle, and Spike fell into step. He found an easy stride, at once bolstered and relaxed in the shelter of her presence.

“Oh, uh... yeah, I’m fine. Can... can you tell me what’s actually going on? Uh... your highness?” he asked.

She gave a warmer smile at that. “Luna, Spike. And, yes, of course, though with the speed that news travels these days, I am surprised word has not already filtered down to Ponyville.”

“It might’ve. But Twilight and Ponyville have a lot on their plate today.”

Luna nodded, then took a breath. “To summarise then: yesterday evening, just as the sun touched the horizon, five large dragons appeared from the east, without warning, and landed upon the summit of the mountain above. They remain even now.”

Spike craned his neck around and up, gazing at the summit high above. From this distance, with an entire third of the mountain towering overhead, he could only make out vague, indistinct shapes against the grey peak, but there was definitely something up there. Several somethings, though how many he couldn’t tell himself. “What are they doing up there?”

“They appear to be... waiting.” Luna raised her own head looking upwards, beyond the white marble towers of the city towards the massive peak of the mount looming large overhead. “Their presence has caused no small amount of concern.”

“Oh. So, is that why everypony here is so... off? I’ve... been getting some pretty strange looks since the train.”

Luna looked down at him with that sincere expression once again. “Please... forgive them. So far our ponies have responded outwardly with a measured calm that I am proud of, but within there is a slow, rising panic. I am doing what I can, but...” She trailed off, and looked at him again and her voice dropped and softened. “They are afraid, Spike. There were many nightmares last night. Fire and teeth figured prominently.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “But... why’s everyone so worried? I mean, dragons have come to Equestria before. Y’know I’m pretty sure there’s still one living in a cave somewhere in the Everfree...”

“It is true that lone dragons have, rarely, settled our lands in the past. But they have always been reclusive. Isolated. Never has a group this large arrived en masse and so brazenly roosted so close to any of our settlements, much less a city. Much less our capital.” Luna’s gaze fell from the mountain and looked resolutely forward again. “They are clearly here for a purpose but we do not know what, and we simply do not have enough information on dragons to interpret this behaviour. Is this a show of force? Staging for a hostile act? Or something less sinister? Or perhaps nothing to do with us at all? Whatever it might be, we must act, but the wrong action based on the wrong assumptions could lead us to ruin. We cannot afford to misjudge their reasons for coming here.” Luna lowered her gaze to him and looked at him with serious eyes. “Understand our position, Spike: a detachment from a foreign nation has – without warning, invitation, or any expression of intent – breached our borders, carrying enough firepower to cause utter devastation to our land, and assumed a tactically dominant position over our capital city. And now... Equestria must decide how it responds.” She returned her gaze ahead once more. “The situation is beyond delicate and there are many eyes on us, not least those of our allies. What we do next will have consequences. This is why my sister has reached out to you. Even were you not a dragon yourself, of all our subjects you would still be the one who has spent the most time among them. You are the closest thing to an expert we have.”

She looked down at him again, then, as though remembering something, and with an odd sincerity spoke again. “I say, ‘we have’... Spike, please... what just happened with the Guard... you are a free citizen of Equestria, always. It is important you understand... my sister and I are asking for your counsel, not interrogating you. You do not have to accompany me to the Castle if you do not wish to. It is your choice.”

“Huh? Oh... no, no, it’s fine. I mean, I see what you’re getting at, but I came, didn’t I? It’s just...” he trailed off.

“Hm?”

“Well... I guess my track record with other dragons isn’t all great? And now here I am being called an expert... I really don’t wanna give the wrong advice.”

Luna gave a little, light chuckle. “Just speak from your heart, and let my sister do with the information what she will. That is all you can do.”

“Okay. I can do that,” he said, letting out a slow, deep breath. “Wait... what about you?”

She shook her head. “I have input, of course, but preparing our formal Response will ultimately fall to Celestia. My role in this crisis is to oversee the defence of the city and, if it becomes necessary, the nation. For now, I have the Guard working at full stretch to fortify Canterlot as quietly as possible. We do not wish to make it obvious that we are preparing to be attacked: if the dragons are not here for conflict an obvious military buildup in response to their presence might be seen as provocative, insulting, or as some form of challenge. The last thing we want is to incite hostilities that might otherwise be averted. It is... a tricky balancing act.” She sighed again. “The Guard are a sledgehammer. Exceptionally capable when brute force and numbers are required, but difficult to adapt when operations call for subtlety and nuance. Still, with my sister’s expertise in diplomacy married to your counsel – and some luck – I have hope that we will have no need of their preparations at all.”

Spike gulped silently. No pressure then.

They walked on in silence, reaching the castle courtyard and finally the entrance – a tall, arched golden door set between smooth marble pillars at the top of a short flight of steps leading up from the immaculate lawn. Two guards stood flanking the door itself and Luna drew to a stop before one of them, who saluted. The guards were armed with spears, Spike noted. And swords.

“My sister is...?” enquired Luna, offering a quick salute of her own. When the guard’s gaze flitted uncertainly to Spike and then back again she added, “Speak freely.”

“She is in the West Tower. In the War Room,” the guard answered.

Luna blinked in surprise, unable to stifle her reaction. “Still?”

“Yes, ma’am. We were asked, if Spike were to find his way here, to take him—”

Her surprised expression gave way to a determined frown. “Come, Spike,” she said, moving away from the door. “I do not intend to waste the strength in my legs climbing all the way up the West Tower by hoof, and I see no reason why you should have to either. There are easier ways to travel,” she said as she spread her broad wings and gave them a mighty flex. “Climb aboard,” she said with a private smile, directed only at him.

He grinned and did as he was asked. Then, with a pair of heavy flaps they were airborne and climbing through the sunny Canterlot morning.

Author's Note

This story has been in development hell for far too long. It's intended to be set sometime between Season 6 and Season 7, if you can forgive that. Hope you enjoy.

If You Want Peace, Prepare for War

The highest levels of the West Tower, like many of the taller spires in the city of Canterlot, were reached by a winding, exterior staircase that hugged the alabaster walls. At various heights the stairs met balconies and doorways offering access to the interior before continuing its serpentine ascent, and at the very top the stairs terminated in a final flat balcony that ringed the summit with an iron guardrail. It was here that Luna alighted, and Spike dropped from her back onto the ground.

Luna put on a small smile, then raised her muzzle and held one hoof to her chest. “Thank you for flying Luna Airways. We understand you have a choice in magical flying ponies and we are grateful for your custom.”

Spike couldn’t resist a chuckle. “Heh! You know, thinking about it? I’m probably the first one now who can say they’ve flown on all four Princesses,” said Spike.*

“Indeed?” said Luna. Then, after a certain pause, “And...?”

“Definitely a smoother ride than Air Twilight,” offered Spike. “Though, I guess you’ve got more flight-time under your saddle than she has.”

“Indeed. I believe that if I were to add together all the time I have been in flight over the course of my lifetime, it would likely amount to a greater number of hours than those which Twilight Sparkle has lived. Not that I am bragging.” She walked to the single wood-and-glass door that allowed entrance to the highest room of the West Tower. She didn’t knock, simply entered. And Spike followed.

The room beyond was, at first glance, similar in size and shape to the main room in the old tree library in Ponyville – circular and with a large round, raised table at its core which seemed to be made of crystal. Around the room’s circumference were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with volumes. Spike took it in.

Princess Celestia stood at an open, arched window twice as tall as it was wide on the far side of the room, beside a tripod-mounted telescope trained at a sharp angle upward on the mountain peak. At their entrance she turned and regarded her sister, and finally Spike, whom she greeted with a simple, straight-faced nod before returning her attention to her sibling.

“Sister? You have brought Spike here personally?”

“Our citizens grow more frightened and restless by the hour,” replied Luna. “Perhaps seeing one of their Princesses walking in amiable company with a dragon who is demonstrably friend, not foe will ease their worries. And it is well I did: I fear the Guard company you sent accosted Spike at the station. They were prepared to drag him here by force before I intervened.”

Celestia blinked in surprise. “They should not have been heavy-hooved,” she said, a level frown forming. “The Guard cannot go around strong-legging citizens, Luna. We cannot be seen to condone, or tolerate, such behaviour.”

“And we do not. But the Guard are already at their limit trying to accomplish difficult tasks in total secrecy on a metropolitan scale. I am proud of the way they are holding up, all things considered. I have delivered appropriate chastisement to those involved and they will not repeat their error,” replied Luna. “And our friend Spike has been nothing but understanding.”

Celestia seemed to consider this for a moment, before finally she turned to regard him with a subtle, small smile. “Thank you for coming, Spike,” she said. Then the smile was gone, replaced by that strange, emotionless intensity.

Spike looked towards her. “So, uh... I’m here. Though, not quite sure where ‘here’ is. Did that guard call this the War Room?”

Celestia shot a glance at her sister on the far side of the room, so brief as to go unnoticed except by her counterpart. Then her gaze fell once more to Spike, and she decided to offer an explanation.

“Officially it is the Warfare and Offensive Preparation Room, but ‘War Room’ has become a natural shorthand.” She lit her horn and at once the surface of the crystal circular table bloomed to life, a magical, colourful representation of Equestria forming in three dimensions before his eyes. It would have been impressive, were it not a trick he had seen before.

“Hey... that looks just like the Map in Twilight’s castle!”

“The similar physical manifestation is simple coincidence,” said Celestia. “This table is nearly a thousand years old, and the magical enchantments that empower it are quite different than those in Twilight’s table. Twilight’s Map is connected to the Tree of Harmony. The Tree spreads its roots far and wide in the earth, connecting it by degrees to all of Equestria. As far as we can determine, when it senses disharmony in need of repair, it uses the map to summon aid. This...” she looked down at the table, “This is simple holography combined with magical representations of various mathematical equations designed to simulate a large number of variables. Very basic by comparison.”

“Would that we could combine the two,” said Luna. “Imagine – actionable, real-time intelligence from every corner of Equestria...”

“And an egregious invasion of privacy at every level,” admonished Celestia.

Luna pouted. “There are days, sister, when you are no fun at all.”

“Yes,” conceded Celestia with a veiled sigh. “And I fear today is one of them.”

She turned her attention back to Spike. “This room, in one form or another, has existed for a very long while. After Princess Luna was banished a thousand years ago I feared that with Equestria in a state of perceived weakness, other powers – less friendly in those times – might seek to take advantage. I felt it necessary to prepare for any scenario that might threaten Equestria’s safety. In the event my fears proved unfounded and its use waned. Until relatively recently, in fact. In recent moons we have been forced to confront the fact that our way of life has rested upon the edge of a knife once too often.”

Luna spoke up. “Equestria is no stranger to catastrophe. But the threats with which we have traditionally contended have all been of a kind. Nightmare Moon, Discord, Tirek, King Sombra... all wielding immense, devastating power, yes, but singular entities all the same. In the past my sister and I, or the Elements of Harmony, or their bearers, have been able to contend with and repel such foes. In terms of matching one-on-one power, Equestria is well catered-for.” She gave Spike a level look. “But powerful, individual villains are not the only kind of danger we may face. Large-scale conflict is ever a real possibility. The first Changeling invasion was a wake-up call in that respect, and your-and-Twilight’s experiences as a result of Starlight Glimmer’s temporal manipulation of Twilight’s map have made for... sobering reading.”

“Indeed. The safety of Equestria is too important to be left solely to the whims of...” Celestia trailed off, and she met Luna’s eyes with a strange, bemused look, and one that was returned.

“What?” asked Spike.

Both Princesses broke their gaze and looked down at him. Celestia said, “We have never settled on a name for it. ‘Destiny’ implies a concrete future, and ‘Fate’ is too... fatalistic, for want of a better word,” she added. “But there is a... force... guiding our paths. Yours, mine, Equestria’s. My sister and I sense it; feel it. It is a shadow just beyond vision, the lightest touch on our shoulders to steer us, but it is there.”

“This provident force shapes our world and our lives and protects us by some measure. We... we choose to believe it has an ‘affinity’ for Equestria, and possibly for ponies in particular, and so it acts to keep our world in good health. But it is unlikely to last forever, and if one day it were to depart and leave us deprived of its benevolent shroud, we cannot afford to be a turtle stripped of its shell. We must be prepared.”

Celestia gave a long pause then, and finally lowered her head back to the table. “In darker ages, in distant lands, there were those who reigned by the sword. Bloodthirsty tyrants eager to seek glory in battle after battle; to validate their authority and widen their empires through violence and subjugation.” Her eyes softened, just a little. “But for as long as my sister and I have been in power, Equestria has been ruled as a land of peace and friendship. For a millennia and more we have expanded our influence and our borders not through conquest, but through care and understanding with our equals.”

“Take Yakyakistan for example,” continued Luna, and the holographic map moved to expand the northern reaches, guided by her aura. “For many hundreds of moons a hard border existed between Equestria and the homeland of the yaks, and now, by mutual agreement... it is simply gone. Ponies and yaks are free to come and go, to trade and fraternise as they wish and all because we have taken the effort to build trust and mutual respect.” She met Spike’s gaze. “This is how we wish to rule our land: according to the principals of love and tolerance. But our methods come with a price, and that price is ignorance and inexperience in the art of warfare.”

Celestia nodded. “I am proud to say that for as long as I have lived, Equestria has never fought a true war. Rare skirmishes perhaps, but a true military campaign with combatants numbering in the thousands, perhaps tens-of-thousands? That is a horror that has never visited us. A conflict of such sheer scale, were it upon us, could not be quelled by my sister and I alone. The Elements of Harmony could not hope to have effect on an entire army stretching across a vast battlefield. We possess no ‘magic arrow’ that could stifle true war at a stroke and so, if the time ever came when a hostile force committed to projecting its full military might against us... we would have no choice but to take up arms to defend ourselves. But my sister and I cannot risk making tactically inept decisions against a more experienced strategic mind. Not when the safety of all we hold dear might be at stake. And so we must practise and prepare for a day we hope never arrives, hence this room.”

“We challenge each other and the Guard Captains regularly in Games of War,” said Luna. “I liken it to chess. Using this table we can simulate an incursion using our own knowledge to guess the likely strength of force and method of attack. We develop strategies to counter them and allow them to play out. Effective tactics are written down and stored in the books you see on the walls, to ensure we do not forget. Over time we refine, improve, and play again.” She turned her full attention to the tabletop now, still hovering over Yakyakistan. “There is a degree of randomness in every instance, but a basic scenario should demonstrate the point: let us use the Yaks as our antagonists, and I will show you how Equestria wages war,” said Luna, her aura intensifying slightly. The map changed slightly, the snowy region to the north of Equestria suddenly adorned with various symbols and colours. A large patch of yellow seemed to represent the Yak army, while a smaller blue splodge appeared to account for friendly troops. Spike tried to make sense of the rest of it, but he was largely mystified. Luna regarded it critically and began a running commentary.

“It seems the Yaks have amassed a sizeable contingent comprising most of their military forces. Rather than attempt to invade via the stronghold of the Crystal Empire, they have wisely circumvented it and now stand within striking distance of Tall Tail Town. The Guard presence there is low, and all signs are that the Yaks are preparing to attack. Our reinforcements are ready to be dispatched, but even our fastest pegasi will not reach them soon enough to dissuade an offensive. Let us assume that all attempts at diplomacy have failed,” she said, and then looked to Spike. “What should we do?”

Spike looked up, surprised, and almost managed to choke on something that wasn’t there. He didn’t know! Why ask him?! But Luna continued to stare, awaiting an answer. “Um... well, don’t we have to stop them from attacking somehow?” he said. That sounded good.

Celestia shook her head, a little sadly. “The only way to prevent an attack would be to strike first. To try and disrupt and cripple their ability to mount an offensive. It is possible with the forces we have. But equally, it cannot be done.”

“Why not?”

Luna replied. “Because Equestria will never begin a conflict,” she said. “It is our guiding principle, and one we are committed to. We will never fire the first shot because in every single moment until the first arrow flies, there remains the chance that it may not be fired at all. We would not waste a single opportunity to try and halt a conflict before it can start, but the instant the first bow-string is released... it has started. And thereafter stopping it becomes immeasurably more difficult.” She gave him a quick glance. “You will note that even though the dragons above have technically invaded us, we have not begun bombarding the mountaintop with trebuchets.”

“Okay,” said Spike. He looked back at the table. “But if we can’t attack the yaks and there aren’t enough Guards to defend the town, how do we stop them?”

“We don’t. Not here, not yet,” said Luna. “The Guard will be instructed to evacuate the village and get its ponies to safety. When the enemy moves in they will meet token resistance before the Guard retreat also. The intent will be to keep casualties on either side as close to zero as possible.” Her voice had taken on a slightly cold edge, hard and calculating.

“But... those ponies’ homes... that town?”

“A sacrifice. We will take care of our ponies, but as of now, this is war.”

“The enemy will have little interest in ravaging the village itself,” said Celestia. “They will believe they have taken us by surprise, and their goal will be to reach and conquer Canterlot as quickly as possible.”

“To that end, I will dispatch our reinforcements... here,” Luna said, indicating a small valley about half-way between the enemy troops and Canterlot. “The enemy will be emboldened by their early, decisive victory and the weather conditions that – rather conveniently – favour them. They will move swiftly to cross the open country, moving further from their homeland and deeper into our wilderness. Should they stray too far from our preordained path, they will find their scouts harried by the Guard, or the weather will suddenly take a turn for the worse. We will make the land less than hospitable in any direction other than the one we intend. They will forge onwards with building confidence at the lack of resistance and all the while, subtly and carefully, we will contain and guide them to where we wish them to be.”

The mass of yellow moved slowly but certainly closer to Canterlot. But now the blue shapes were moving too. Dividing to the left and right of the yellow mass and forming a horseshoe shape, they seemed to allow it to move between them as it entered the valley.

“I will send a detachment to secure the village they have left behind and garrison it with enough might to prevent any reinforcement. The remainder of our forces will surround the enemy once they have reached the valley. Only when it is too late will they realise they have found themselves deep in enemy territory, trapped by geography and weather, magic and steel. They will find their supply-line cut and any hope of communication or aid gone. They will find their boldness vanishing very quickly indeed.”

Spike looked on in quiet awe. It was an elegantly simple plan, just on a massive scale. The yellow blob concentrated in the valley, surrounded now on all sides by a thin ring of blue. “What... what happens now?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Now? We unleash upon them the most devastating weapon we possess,” said Luna, looking down her muzzle at the table. “Kindness.”

There was no change in her icy expression or her cold, piercing gaze. She might just as well have said ‘exploding arrows.’ ‘Kindness’ in this context was a tactic; a tool, nothing more.

“We wait until the enemy has realised they are entirely at our mercy,” explained Luna without inflection. “And then we show them mercy. Rather than attack and destroy, we send ponies to talk and help. We send wagons to replenish their dwindling supplies of food and water. We offer to treat any sick and wounded, and give them warm blankets and hot cider for the cold nights. Day after day we flood their camp with friendly, smiling ponies that mingle and live among them, so that a day does not go by when one of their soldiers does not see a pony showing them compassion or sharing a kind word. Before long, friendships will form as a natural consequence of sustained, repeated interaction. Drop by drop, their will to wage war against Equestria will be sapped from them like poison drawn from a wound. Finally we encourage them to write home to their families, and we deliver their letters in good faith. We make it clear that, as far as we are concerned, they will all get to go home and see their loved ones again.”

Luna looked up from the table while Celestia met Spike’s gaze, picking up the commentary. “The Yak leadership now has a problem; faced with a captured army that no longer has the ability or will to fight, and a populace that very much wants their families back safely. There are several outcomes now: the government realises its error and negotiates for peace, which is far easier to achieve if destruction and casualties have already been kept to a minimum; or they remain belligerent and are overthrown by their people unwilling to risk the safety of their families trapped on foreign soil; or, if we believe we have built enough trust, we can release their army and send them home, where the most likely outcome is a military coup against the regime that tried to invade what is, as far as the soldiers are concerned, now a nation of friends. The point is that in any event, the war is over.”

“Over?” asked Spike. “But... did we win?”

“There is no such thing as ‘winning’ a war, Spike. The only victory lies in ending it with as little lost as possible,” said Celestia.

“This is but one strategy, cultivated from many years of refinement, trial and error,” said Luna. “This is an easy scenario, but our underlying ethos remains the same. We adopt this philosophy to warfare not because it is easy, but because our trials here show it gives the fewest losses combined with the best chance for lasting peace. Destroying their army might cripple their ability to harm us for a time, but it would foster hatred and grievance against us. Repelling them at the border does not motivate them to cease being hostile, it simply encourages them to make another attempt and probe our defenses. And a prolonged war of attrition on open ground would cause casualties to spiral to devastating levels.”

Spike mulled for a moment before speaking again. “Okay. But if you have all these amazing strategies for, like, everything,” he said. “Then why all this worry from a few dragons?”

Celestia answered, a solemn, thin-lipped look to her. “Look around, Spike. There is one bookshelf that is mostly empty of books.”

Spike looked around himself and sure enough, on that side of the room there was a bookshelf on which very few books were arranged. And those present were decidedly thin. “Uh... that wouldn’t be the dragon section would it?”

Luna nodded gravely. “Were dragons ever to turn actively hostile, we would be in grave peril. An individual or small group such as this we could repel, though at great cost. But you were witness to the most recent Dragon Migration, were you not? How many do you think crossed our skies? Hundreds? Thousands? Imagine if even one tenth of what you witnessed massed against us.”

Celestia spoke. “A dragon army – if such a thing exists – would be unlike any conventional military force. One against which our preferred tactics would be useless. We cannot fight scores of such massive beasts in open combat, and we cannot cut a supply line to an army that can subsist on anything – even the rocks at their feet. The innate ability to breathe fire is a weapon we cannot confiscate or neutralise; they appear impervious to extremes of heat and cold, and their hides are naturally thick enough to protect them from most damage that we could inflict with spear or spell.” She shook her head.

Luna’s aura glowed again, and suddenly the entire map changed. Equestria lay in ruins with representations of dragons circling in the skies above. Charred and scorched earth dotted with forests reduced to charcoal, and every town and city either ablaze or a smouldering ruin. Even Canterlot. Even Ponyville.

“Whoa...” breathed Spike.

Luna raised her head and once more fixed his gaze, this time with a sober, even plaintive expression. “We cannot afford conflict with the dragons, Spike. And if we cannot prevent it...” she looked back to the table. “... our experiments here imply the outcome is catastrophic four times out of every five. While that is by no means certainty, those are not odds on which I would wish to gamble with the fate of everything I love at stake.”

Spike stared in silence at the map of light while an entire country burned. A moment later the scene disappeared, the magic empowering the illusion released.

“Even factoring in our recent experiences, Dragons are still very much an unknown, unpredictable quantity. Much of our best knowledge on dragon biology and physiology comes only from my sister’s experiments on you when you were still a hatchli—”

“Sister!” snapped Celestia suddenly, which drew a look of shock from Luna and Spike both at the angry interruption.

“What is wrong?” asked Luna.

“That was an unkind word to use,” said Celestia with a frown.

Luna returned a frown of her own. “It is a word you have used before,” she retorted.

Celestia lowered her head and met Spike’s gaze with a sympathetic expression. “Forgive me, Spike. You were never ‘experimented on’, but your hatching forced many questions that it became necessary to answer in short order if you were to survive. What does a dragon eat? I did not know, and neither did anyone. In the event it appeared to be, ‘anything.’ But in those early days, everything I tried to do to nurture you was an ‘experiment’ to some degree.” She gave Luna another stern look. “But my sister did not mean to imply that you were some sort of test subject.”

“No, I did not,” asserted Luna. “But I see no reason to sugar-coat the fact that the lessons learned in caring for your upbringing are still the basis for our most reliable facts about the dragon species. Alas, the rest – their society, their values, their relationships with other cultures – are but extrapolation and guesswork.”

Celestia nodded in grave agreement with her sister. “This is why I requested your counsel, Spike. I need help from someone who has been among them. What might they want from us? How should they be approached? Can they be reasoned with? And most importantly, how—”

At that moment there was a curt, two-tap knock to the door of the room, coming from the balcony outside, drawing both Princesses’ attention. Spike, who for a moment could not draw his gaze from the table nor dismiss the memory of a burning homeland, finally had his focus wrenched away by Celestia’s short entreaty of, “Come.”

The door opened and into the room strode a pegasus mare in a recognisable blue flight-suit with flight-goggles propped upon her brow. A windswept silver mane and tail followed her gracefully as she carried herself inside with short, well-timed steps that implied a militaristic air. She halted before the Princesses and gave a quick bow. She didn’t salute but had she, it wouldn’t have appeared out of place in the slightest.

“Ma’am? I was to bring the latest recon report to you directl—?” she began before catching sight of Spike and cutting herself off, her mouth snapping shut and a confused frown forming around her goggles. “Uh... ma’am? Do you know there’s one of them in here, right now?”

“Your report?” intervened Celestia before an awkward silence could descend.

Drawing the Wonderbolt’s complete attention. “Y-yes ma’am,” she said quickly and offered a sealed scroll to the Princess. It was taken from her with a golden aura and unfurled while the pegasus withdrew two paces and stood at attention.

Celestia unfurled the scroll and began to read. A moment later her eyes stopped moving, seemingly transfixed on one errant detail within the text. She looked up at the blue-suited flier with a hard, interrogative stare. “You are certain of this? You are positive?”

“These eyes don’t lie, ma’am,” replied the pegasus, head high and formal.

Celestia returned her gaze to the parchment and absently nodded in reluctant acceptance. “Thank you. Leave us please,” she said. With that – and no further ceremony – the Wonderbolt nodded, then turned and strode from the room, closing the door behind her.

Celestia closed her eyes, and let a long, slow breath out through her nose, re-rolling the scroll with her magic.

“Sister?” asked Luna.

“Um... Princess?”

She opened her eyes and regarded her peers. “It seems that there is a sixth dragon up on the summit. One who matches Twilight Sparkle’s description of the new Dragon Lord.”

“Wait... Princess Ember is here?” said Spike in surprise. He felt a slow burn of heat rising in his cheeks which he tried to force away. “But hold on... that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Celestia regarded her sister, and Luna returned a solemn, understanding nod before turning to Spike.

Luna took a breath. “Knowing that the Dragon Lord herself has led her subjects here complicates matters politically,” she explained. “It has upped the ante by a considerable amount. We can no longer subscribe to the more convenient notion that these dragons are rogues acting without the backing of their state, and should things deteriorate the option to petition their hierarchy to recall or rein them in is quite obviously lost to us. Worse, if we take the letter of the law, the head of a foreign power leading a force across our borders without our permission officially constitutes an Act of War. We cannot let this lie, or be seen to shrink away from dealing with it... and we cannot challenge it without – likely – aggravating the dragons.” She shook her head. “What a mess...”

A long silence descended. Spike shuffled awkwardly while Princess Luna regarded the blank table with an air of contemplation. Celestia turned and gazed through the window at the mountain summit, hundreds of feet above. “And we still don’t know why they’ve come. What they want with us,” she said, and sighed; the first real indication of emotion she had yet shown.

“We have always been beneath their gaze,” said Luna. “Lord Torch and many before him ever regarded ponies with... aggressive disinterest. This ‘Lord Ember’ is a new, young ruler who will undoubtedly seek to prove herself. Perhaps this is posturing? A show of force as a way for her to consolidate the power she has seized.”

“If it is just a show...” said Celestia. There was another, introspective pause before finally she spoke again, her attention drawn back to the snow-capped peak. “Dragon Lord Ember,” she said, mulling the unfamiliar words. “I know almost nothing about her, and yet suddenly this entire crisis turns upon her. Her motivations for coming here; her predilections towards us.” Finally she turned back to the room, to Spike. “You met her in person, did you not, Spike? You shared some manner of adventure or trial together?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” said Spike.

After another lengthy pause Celestia finally turned and regarded him, still with no hint of emotion. “In the time you spent together do you recall her offering any opinions on Equestria? Was there anything you noticed in her that might indicate fondness or distaste for ponies?”

“Um... well sure, yeah. Like there was this one part where... because Twilight and Rarity were there too, sort of hiding... and she knew, and she could have sold them out to this other dragon that was sniffing around who does hate ponies, but she didn’t: she protected them instead.”

Celestia nodded sagely. “Indeed? And... why would she do such a thing? Was there any advantage for her in doing so?”

“Not really, no. She didn’t have to, she was just doing the right thing.”

Celestia gave a thoughtful hum and a considered, concentrated frown. “Spike, this trial you undertook, what was it designed to test?”

“The Gauntlet? It was to see who became the next Dragon Lord.”

“Yes, I know that much from Twilight’s essay. But specifically, what qualities was it designed to put to the test?”

“Well... there was a lot of talk about it only being for ‘big and strong’ dragons and all that. So, strength I guess?” said Spike.

Celestia nodded. “So... the Gauntlet puts a dragon’s strength to the test, and the Gauntlet is the method by which a dragon may prove themselves worthy of the title of Lord. So... it is true that dragons respect strength above all else? That if a dragon can prove their physical might is superior to that of their rivals... they have power over them?” suggested Celestia.

“Um... I guess so. They do always like showing off how strong and tough they are to each other. And how crude. All that one-upmanship... it’s not really my thing.”

“An Alpha-Omega societal hierarchy,” said Luna. “The strongest are respected while the weak are dominated.” She grimaced. “I find it distasteful.”

Celestia nodded, slowly now, contemplating behind her china facade. “Yet, as I understand it, you and she were the first to reach the goal in this trial. Were you both really that much stronger than all of the other competitors?”

“Huh? Oh, no. We got there first because we teamed up!” said Spike with a grin as memories came back. “With two of us looking out for each other, we got through the challenges twice as fast. We were working together!” He paused. Other, more bitter memories stirred. “Well... that is... until we weren’t.”

“Go on.”

“Well, we started working together and then... all of a sudden... she said we weren’t together any more. That we were finished. And then she... left me behind.” He still felt a sad pang at the memory.

Subtly, almost imperceptibly, Celestia’s brow darkened and her jaw clenched. Only for a moment. A fleeting instant when her iron grip on her composure faltered. “She took advantage of your trust, used you to achieve what she could not alone, and then betrayed and abandoned you?” she said, her voice still very level.

Beside her, Luna gave a rueful shake of her head. “I fear these are not the actions of a leader with whom we are likely to be able to form any kind of working relationship.”

Spike’s head snapped up, surprised. “What? No, it wasn’t like that! I mean... okay it was like that, but she came back! She apologised and everything. Then there was a fight with that other dragon I mentioned and she had to hold him off. Otherwise he would have become Dragon Lord and that would have been really bad for Equestria. But I’d never have been able to fight him on my own, so she sacrificed her chance at getting the Sceptre so that one of us could. So... I did.”

“You did. And so, for an instant, you became the Lord of the Dragons, before in an honourable and selfless act, you gave away the title to her.” Celestia stood unmoved, turning again to the window, her porcelain face void of emotion and nuance. “I hope that was not a mistake, Spike,” she said softly.

Spike looked to her, Celestia’s sudden scrutiny of his actions putting him on the defensive. “I... I only did the Gauntlet because I wanted to keep Equestria... and my friends... safe. Some of the dragons... they really didn’t have nice things to say about ponies. But Ember’s different. She’s smart and she’s good and I know she doesn’t want to do any harm. That’s why I gave it to her. I couldn’t stay there and be Dragon Lord. That’s not my home. This is,” he finished, feeling a swell of pride.

For a moment Celestia said nothing. Then she turned her head to the side, looking across the room at her sister, who closed her eyes and shook her own head sadly. With a final look to the mountain-top, Celestia took a long breath and spoke again. “I have absolutely no doubt that your intentions were pure, Spike. But a long time on the throne has taught me to be observant to the machinations behind the innocent faces of those seeking power. A more cynical reading of these events paints Princess Ember in a different light, and casts you as an innocent pawn, I fear.”

She turned away from the window, and the sunlight streaming from outside caused her shadow to fall over him. “Consider: Ember, a Princess and daughter of a Dragon Lord with the expectations on her that naturally follow, has designs on the throne soon to be vacated by her father. She is more intelligent than most of her peers but the Gauntlet is a test of strength, and she knows she is not ‘strong’ enough to achieve victory without help – which of course no other competitor will offer. Then by a stroke of luck she meets you, Spike: a dragon with no true desire to be Dragon Lord forced to take part by a mere quirk of fate. She sees you in the company of ponies and learns your true motivation. By intervening to protect your friends she earns your trust, and the assistance she needs to gain a lead over her rivals. However, she makes a mistake and casts you aside too soon. When you arrive at the end before her she tries to recover your faith by appearing to sacrifice her own ambitions. But knowing what she does, she calculates that you are unlikely to want to retain the power you have seized for yourself, and with your confidence in her salvaged... what other dragon are you likely to pass on that responsibility to?”

“But it wasn’t—!” began Spike, and then cut himself off. Starting again, he lowered and softened his voice. “It’s not like that, your highness. It just isn’t. We’re friends. She has a good heart, I know she does. I don’t know why she’s brought a bunch of dragons here, but I know it’s not because she wants to hurt us. At all.”

Celestia’s stoic expressionless visage did not change. “Did you hear her say so? With your own ears? Did she ever actually tell you she would not make any attempt to harm or attack Equestria... or was it something you said that she simply did not refute? I need you to be clear, Spike. Twilight’s account is unclear on this precise point, and it may prove crucial.”

“Um... uh...” said Spike, genuinely racking his brains. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t remember. It all just happened, you know? But... she’s good, Princess. Honest.”

Celestia continued to regard him, betraying not an ounce of emotion through her perfect composure. Finally she raised her head and turned back to the window. “She may be. And I know you believe she is, but her actions – past and present – give me pause. I cannot take it as read that she does not come bearing us ill will, and I cannot take at face value any promise she may offer. Trust will be difficult.”

Spike lowered his gaze to the ground, disappointed and even a little frustrated. He had to admit that he himself didn’t really know why Ember would appear out of the blue like this... but he knew that it wouldn’t be for any bad reason. Still, he could understand why the Princesses couldn’t just take his word based on no more information than they had themselves. The future of the whole realm might be at stake. But if only they could talk to Ember – find out what she and her dragons were after – this whole situation could die down.

Of course, there was a solution wasn’t there? He raised his head and met Celestia’s gaze. “Why don’t I go find out?” he asked.

Celestia blinked, betraying the merest hint of surprise, but remained silent.

“I mean it,” added Spike. “Why don’t I go up there and talk to Ember? I’ll find out what she wants and why she’s here, and report back – like an ambassador! Then you’ll see there’s nothing to worry about!” he finished with a winning grin.

Luna regarded him quietly for a moment, then raised her head and looked toward her sister. Celestia continued to hold his gaze. At length she let out a slow, calm breath and spoke with a firm note – though one not devoid of sympathy.

“No, Spike.”

Spike deflated. But why? It was such a simple solution! So logical! Why would the Princess say no? “But... I can help!” he tried, hoping that he wouldn’t sound like he was answering back.

“You have helped, Spike,” Celestia assured. “When the time comes for me to confront the dragons, I can do so from a position of knowledge, where before I would have been hobbled by ignorance. I have you to thank, and I do so sincerely. But you should return to Ponyville. No doubt you are needed for—”

Before she could say more, there was a curt knock at the door.

“Enter,” called Celestia, and without hesitation the door was opened and in marched Guard Captain Speartip, metal armour gleaming, clanking softly in time with practised, formal steps. He strode to the table and positioned himself at it, opposite Celestia and Luna.

“Captain? You have information for us?” began Celestia as he approached his position at the table. When his eye caught uncertainly on Spike, Celestia noticed immediately. “You may treat Spike here as a friend, Captain. I will vouch for his trustworthiness.”

“Yes, highnesses,” he said with a quick bow, removing his helmet and placing it on the table before him. “We’ve had word from afield. It’s all come in at the same time, so I’ll be as brief as I can.” He spoke clearly and with confidence, and made direct eye-contact with each royal sister in turn, but it was clear he was carrying news that he would just as soon not have to relay. “Firstly, Maretonia has closed its borders,” he said, resolutely not allowing his gaze to slip from the princesses. “They are denying outward travel to their citizens, and they are reinforcing their crossings with troops and scouts. Word is that they are preparing to receive... refugees,” he finished, his voice stumbling a hair on the final word.

“They are distancing themselves from us,” said Luna. “Such confidence they have in our diplomacy.”

“It is the wisest course,” admitted Celestia, her head dipping. “Showing any allegiance to us would make them a target should hostilities between ourselves and the dragons prove unavoidable.”

“Yes ma’am, it... would.”

When she looked back to the Captain his expression contained obvious nervousness. As though Celestia had drawn a conclusion he was aware of, but that he would perhaps rather she had not reached until after he had said his remaining pieces. “Captain?”

He had to clear his throat. “We received this from Saddle Arabia, your highnesses,” he said, withdrawing a small, very thin folded parchment from his armour and presenting it to Luna. Using magic, she unfurled it.

KING AND QUEEN AWARE DRAGON INCURSION STOP. S-A FORCES MOBILISING STOP. ORDERS TO MARCH FOR CANTERLOT STOP. ARRIVAL IN TWO DAYS STOP. FOR EQUESTRIA.

“They are sending us their army?” gasped Luna.

“And... we’ve had word from Captain Armor in the North that the Crystal Empire is doing likewise,” said the Captain. “Every passenger train is being cancelled and requisitioned to move the vast bulk of their Guards here. They will begin arriving as soon as overnight tonight.”

“Oh, Cadance,” said Celestia, unsure whether she should shed a tear in gratitude, or fear for the Empire’s safety.

“So we have two armies bound for Canterlot, to join ours already here?” surmised Luna. She turned to her sister. “The gestures are appreciated, but this does little for us except treble the potential casualties if things go sour,” she pointed out.

“They are acting not out of common sense, but perceived obligation. And love,” said Celestia with a pale expression. “And we cannot now refuse their help. To do so would be to risk slighting them.”

“Cadance would understand. The dragons are not going to miss two entire armies converging on Canterlot beneath them, nor misinterpret the cause. Our allies mean well, but this will only serve to increase the instability in what is already a precarious position,” said Luna.

“We will have to use the circumstances to our advantage where we can,” said Celestia. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath in through her nose. When she opened them again, there was new determination in them. “Equestria must respond, and it seems a timescale has been dictated for us. And with two entire armies about to arrive there is little value in hiding our own preparations any longer.” She turned to her sister. “Bring the Guard out of the shadows, Luna. Let them play to their strengths and garrison this city with every spear and bow we have. Ensure our ponies know that our guards are there to keep them safe – the city is not under martial law.” She turned to the Captain. “Captain Speartip? Make the rail-station ready to receive incoming troops. Barrack and quarter them as they arrive and direct their commanders to Princess Luna for further instructions.” She took a breath. “The dragons respect strength: when I go to confront the Dragon Lord it will be as the figurehead of a mighty nation, and the mouthpiece of a powerful alliance. We will show them we are not without teeth and with luck, that will be enough to earn their respect and bring them to the table; to negotiate with us as equals. Dismissed.”

“Yes, Highnesses!” The Captain snapped a salute, metallic armour clanking loudly once more, turned on his hooves and marched at a quick clip toward the door, his tasks duly assigned.

Spike’s awkward gaze dropped to the floor. This whole situation with the dragons really didn’t have the air of a friendly visit.

When he glanced up he saw Princess Luna still regarding her sister. Her expression had changed to a level scowl. When Celestia noticed, she returned the glare. It seemed they were exchanging words without speaking.

“That will be all for now, Spike,” said Celestia, her voice clipped and cold.

“Um... is... is something wrong?”

There was a frosty pause and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

It was a long moment before Luna answered.

“My sister and I are about to argue,” explained Luna, resolutely not taking her eyes from her counterpart.

“Oh,” said Spike, confused. There was no reply nor acknowledgement. The time for him to make himself scarce was certainly upon him. He walked carefully over to the door, through it and closed it behind him. This was no place for him, but... what was going on?

* * *

When Spike stepped out onto the terrace, he was surprised to find the flight-suited Wonderbolt who had brought the scroll earlier was still waiting. She turned from the balcony overlooking the city, regarded him with a frown, and subtly stepped just a little further away as though nonchalantly sidestepping a cobra.

Okay. Awkward.

“Um... hi,” said Spike, embarrassed under her scrutiny, and using his best ‘pleased to meet you’ voice. “I don’t think we got introduced. I’m Spike, I’m sorta... an advisor to the Princesses? It’s... uh... Flatfoot, right?” he guessed. So long around Rainbow Dash and he still didn’t know all the different Wonderbolt’s names for sure. They all looked so similar in those blue suits!

From her reaction it looked like he must have gotten her mixed up with someone else because in reply she gave him the most piercing death-glare. “Look... dragon... I don’t know if that’s what passes for espionage in Draconia – or wherever you’re from – but the only information you’re getting out of me is my rank and serial number,” she scoffed. Though, oddly, after another awkward moment her haughty demeanour and angered frown seemed to relax. “Wait a second... I know you, don’t I...?” she said slowly, and with narrowing eyes.

“Yes! You see? I’m a friend to—”

The eyes narrowed further. “You’re the one who ruined our medal ceremony at the Equestria Games. Making up words to the Cloudsdale Anthem.” Her frown deepened still further. “That was supposed to be one of the proudest moments of my life, and then you appeared and turned it into... something else entirely.” Then oddly the frown relaxed, though her stare was still standoffish. “Still... it could’ve been worse. And you took down that big ice-cloud during the finals, didn’t you? That... well that could’ve been much worse.”

“Um... heh... does... does that mean you forgive me?” said Spike, shrinking a little, a hopelessly optimistic, nervous grin spread from ear to ear.

The Wonderbolt drew herself up, looking down upon him, still frowning. “All it means is that you didn’t arrive here with them. So you’re probably not a spy...” she reasoned. Then glanced to the door to the tower and back to him. “And... I guess the Princesses must trust you. It’s Fleetfoot.”

“Uh... nice to meet you. Again.” Her eyes narrowed once more. “So... what are you doing here?” he asked. Wow, the ice was ridiculously thick.

She rolled her eyes and grumbled. “You saw. I came to give my report. Princess Celestia has the Wonderbolts doing covert reconnaissance on the summit. She needs to know if the dragons start looking like they’re gonna attack. The Royal Guard are too conspicuous for this sort of work, so she comes to us. The Wonderbolts haven’t technically been military for hundreds of years, but we’re not exactly civvies either. When the Princesses call, we answer.”

Fleetfoot looked back to the tower door. “Princess Celestia didn’t actually say I was dismissed. I was waiting to see if she had further orders, but with the way that Captain just left, I’m getting the distinct impression she’s done with me too. No sense in sticking around if I’m just wasting my time here. She knows where to find us,” she added, extending her wings.

Spike just couldn’t bring himself to fathom it. ‘Covert reconnaissance?’ It really was like everypony thought that dragons might actually be the enemy. And... well, maybe if things had gone differently during the gauntlet, they might have been. But it hadn’t and they weren’t. Ember was a friend. They had a real chance at friendship here if only they could...

Oh...

There really wasn’t anyone else who could do this.

It was strange. Up until earlier today he had been Spike, general good-egg and helpful sorter-of-things. Suddenly, here he was: Equestria’s best – and possibly only – chance for friendship with the Dragons. No pressure.

I’m so getting banished for this, lamented Spike. “Wait!” He put on his cheesiest grin and turned to the Wonderbolt. “Further orders! Uh... the Princesses. Y’know, they gave me a special mission. And they said that you’ve gotta help me with it...”

* * *

Within the tower, the two ruling sisters met each other with icy stares.

“Sister, I would rather we not fight in the War Room,” said Celestia.

“And yet I find I can no longer hold my tongue!” snapped Luna. “You have spent all morning fretting over that table and your mind is clearly addled! Unless you mis-spoke when you said you intended to ‘confront’ the dragons, and began talking like a warmonger? What madness has possessed you?!”

“The political circumstances are forcing us onto a narrow path, Luna. Our range of options for responding to this incursion is... limited,” said Celestia with a firm, level stare.

“There are options beyond baring our teeth and snarling like a cornered wolf! Why would we risk brandishing the spear when the olive-branch may yet bear fruit?! I cannot believe I am the one making this point to you of all ponies!”

“Because the olives may be poison to us, Luna,” argued Celestia. “You said it yourself: ‘the weak are dominated.’ If we offer conciliation or approach showing any signs of acquiescence we may only invite an attack. If they believe us weak there will be pressure on the Dragon Lord to treat us as such. They might look upon Equestria as another thing to be acquired. I must come to them from a position of strength. As an Alpha, not an Omega. It will give Lord Ember latitude to view Equestria with respect; enough to allow me to open dialogue with her on an equal footing.”

“‘Me’? ‘I?’ You intend to go alone!?” Her scowl deepened. “The task of formulating our Response falls to you, Celestia, but I assumed that in delivering it we would face this threat together!”

“As did I,” said Celestia, almost defensively. “But now that our knowledge of the situation has improved, that is no longer possible.”

“Why? You wish to flaunt our strength, correct? Are we not ‘stronger’ together?” spat Luna.

“Yes, of course. But from what Spike has said here today, it seems clear that dragons regard co-operation and teamwork as only for those enfeebled enough to need it. If we are to repudiate their conceit that we are weak we cannot serve them with the notion that each of us is a crutch to support the other. That means one of us, facing the Dragons alone and without aid.”

“But that is not how Equestria works!” urged Luna.

Celestia fixed her sister with a firm but sympathetic stare. “It was... for a thousand years... and it is how we must present ourselves now. You are going to have to trust me, Luna. I have had a great deal of experience and this is not my first international incident. We will be strong, and I will be firm. But I have no intention of kicking a hornet’s nest.”

The two Princesses stared each other down for an uncomfortable moment.

Luna turned her head, flipped her mane and raised her muzzle to the ceiling. “I will not allow you to go into the manticore’s den blind and unaccompanied, big sister. But if you refuse to take the aid of another princess, or even another pony, then you will at least reconsider taking Spike up on his offer.”

Celestia blinked, her reply delayed by an instant of surprise. “Out of the question.”

“You dismiss the notion out of hoof. Why? Why not send him to speak to the Dragon Lord, as he suggests? That he may lay some groundwork, or at least gauge their mood?” said Luna.

“Because I judge it dangerous,” Celestia retorted. “It was a noble offer, but I will not navigate this crisis by putting ponies at unnecessary risk—”

“But he is not a pony,” Luna cut in. “And I submit that he would not be at risk. He is a dragon. He would be going to his own kind.”

“With whom he has rarely got on well. Would you truly have me send him to those who might treat him ill?” Celestia pointed out, her voice taking on an angry edge, true emotion sparingly revealed.

“I would have you listen to him. If he wishes to go, you have no right to prevent him,” argued Luna. “They are his people.”

“We are his people!” snarled Celestia.

“That is not your choice to make,” countered Luna. “And suppose what he says is true – and let us for once credit him with enough emotional intelligence to have assessed the situation correctly – and he does have a true rapport with the new Dragon Lord: you would be abandoning our best chance at resolving this crisis.”

“I will not use him as a political pawn,” Celestia’s head had dipped low now, her scowl deep and for a moment she bared her clenched teeth. Beyond all that though, her eyes glistened wetly. “He is a child Luna...” she said, her voice picking up a tiny tremor.

“And he will never be more than that if we keep treating him like one,” said Luna. “He is wise beyond his years, a trustworthy confidante and a loyal friend. It is clear he wishes to help us. Let him.”

Celestia let out a long, ragged sigh. “If anything were to happen to him... Twilight would never forgive me,” she said quietly.

“And if you denied him the chance to try and harm were to befall you, I, or anypony he loves, he would not forgive himself,” said Luna. “He has a role to play. Let him play it.”

Celestia looked to the ground, another long breath released. “I... I can’t Luna. Don’t you see? Because of what he has seen here, he knows exactly how dire our situation is. Were I to send him to the Dragon Lord, he would think the weight of all of Equestria lay on his shoulders and he would not be far wrong. He should not have to bear that burden. My conscience will not allow me to ask it of him.”

Luna regarded her sister for a moment longer, then finally gave a slow nod. “A shame, but I understand your reticence. There is indeed a fine line between exploiting the resources we have, and the ethics of allowing one so young to hold the fate of his entire world in his claws.” She looked up with a quick, assertive sniff. “But the crisis continues. So must we.”

Celestia nodded. “I will approach the dragons with our response before the day is out. In the meantime, we must continue to prepare Canterlot. And... when the time comes... if the worst should happen to me—”

“It will not,” assured Luna. “I do trust you. Even when you are being bull-headed.”

Celestia nodded. There was even a tiny smile and a watery eye.

“As for continuing to prepare Canterlot, sister... come with me. The greatest resource we have is our ponies, and some of our brightest minds have responded to my appeal. One of them might yet offer us a better solution than fretting over yet another iteration. Besides, it is high time you left this infernal room.”

Author's Note

* Spike has flown on Princess Celestia at least once in the comics, in case you were scratching your head.

The Best Defence...

Winds buffeted the peak beneath the bright, clear, cold sapphire sky. Two hundred and fifty feet below its true pinnacle the steep mountain slope yielded to a flat-ish plateau of bare, mostly-smooth rock the size of most of a hoofball pitch, and there where it met the slope a great cave-mouth beckoned before the mount rose steeply above it toward the summit. Above, the mountain presented jagged rocks and outcrops of all sizes and angles such that the effect was a staggered, tiered ascension to its ultimate high-point. Standing at the edge of the plateau one could just overlook the city of Canterlot a few degrees to the south, a third of the way further down the mountainside and obscured every so often by a passing wisp of cloud from this height.

And there at the plateau’s edge, only just visible from this distance, stood Ember, looking down at the city below. Aside her stood a full-grown, adult dragon, perhaps as tall as the Ponyville Town Hall. Harsh sunlight shimmered and reflected from scarlet scales, two bone-white horns, and many sharp spines adorning his back. He too peered over the edge, following Ember’s gaze toward Canterlot, regarding it with an expression of lazy disdain. And ensconced above, nestled wherever they could find comfortable purchase in the tiered and staggered outcrops above the rocky shelf, four other similarly-sized dragons of varying hue and build rested in languid repose. They appeared bored but calm and most had their eyes closed, though the way they held their necks upright suggested they were not actually sleeping. More like they were sunning themselves, and otherwise just... waiting.

They sure don’t look like they’re planning to attack, thought Spike with relief, sitting high on Fleetfoot’s back as they circled the mountaintop in a wide arc. They had flown from Canterlot out over the valley, climbing in height before doubling back in a loop. It put enough distance between themselves and the mountain that Fleetfoot, in her outfit, wouldn’t be more than a blue speck among the blue sky. Shifting a little, he leaned forward and pointed to the outcrop – to Ember and the larger dragon. “That’s her!” he called into Fleetfoot’s ear, shouting to be heard above the rush of the wind as they hurtled through the air. “Can you drop me off there?”

“No,” Fleetfoot called back. “Sorry. I got standing orders and those include not being seen under any circumstances. Gotta circle around the mountain-top and drop you somewhere outta sight!”

They soared on through the sky, beginning a wide orbit of the peak. As they rounded it and the city passed out of sight they began to spiral in, Fleetfoot banking smoothly until they were hugging the mountain slope, the tips of her wing-feathers mere inches from the granite rushing past them. They continued to circle, approaching from the far side of the city, out of view of the dragons and finally she alighted, wings flaring proudly, behind a rocky outcrop almost where the mountain met the plateau. Spike hopped off, finding his footing and they both crept up to the natural cover, and peered over.

Ember and the crimson dragon stood at the edge, right where the plateau ended in a sheer drop, their backs toward them, peering intently down at Canterlot. The other dragons, all on the slope above them now, had not shifted or stirred and it appeared the infiltration of a tiny pony and a tinier drake had gone completely unnoticed.

“This is as close as I can get,” whispered Fleetfoot. Then she turned to look at him seriously. “Look, I can’t wait for you, which means if you do this you’re gonna be on your own getting back down the mountain. You understand?”

Spike gulped, and took a deep breath. “I know,” he whispered back. He’d cross that bridge when it came to it. “Thanks for this.”

Fleetfoot’s serious frown remained. “I don’t think you’d be thanking me if this was an official sortie. The Princesses didn’t really order me to fly you up here did they, dragon?”

Spike’s eyes widened in shock. He gulped and nearly lost his balance, and the sweat that instantly formed on his brow made a measured, calm denial impossible. Instead he went with, “L-look, I can explain—!”

“Save it,” she snapped. Then took a calm breath, and when she met his eyes again she locked his gaze with an intense, but somehow softer expression. “My family was in the crowd that night,” she whispered.

“That night? You mean... at the Equestria Games.”

“Just... just tell me I haven’t done anything that’s gonna get me charged with treason here, okay? I think they still pelt you with fruit for that.”

Spike met her eyes with a sincere gaze of his own. “I’m gonna talk to Ember, and I’m gonna get everything straightened out. You’ll see.”

Fleetfoot turned, looking back over the outcrop toward the small blue dragon, and the huge red one right beside. “Better you than me,” she whispered. She turned back, regarded Spike and extended her wings. “Last chance.”

Spike took his own breath, long and calming. “I have to do this.”

“Alright. Good luck kid.” Then, with a whoosh she was gone, wings beating fast as she sped downwards, hugging the slope of the mountain and weaving cleanly past outcrops and through gulleys until she began to bank back towards the city, and he lost sight of her.

Spike drew himself up. No time for doubts or second thoughts. This had to be done, and there was literally no-one else who could do it.

Hauling himself over the rock outcrop, he began to carefully pick his way toward the plateau, and Ember.

* * *

The sun crossed the high-point from morning into afternoon, and with a final scrabble to clear the last of the mountain rocks, Spike made it to the flat ground of the plateau.

Approaching from behind, Spike took each new step with hesitant, exaggerated care, though he couldn’t quite rationalise the reason for his trepidation. It was Ember. He knew her. She knew him. This was all going to be fine. Of course it was. Those things Princess Celestia had said about her... they were wrong. She didn’t know Ember like he did. They were friends. They were.

Ember stood motionless at the very edge, looking down at the city. Beside her at her left, the great crimson dragon towered over her but his gaze also fixed on the capital. Finding his resolve but not wanting to ruin what appeared to be a quiet moment of introspection, Spike advanced the final few yards with more confident strides until he too arrived at the edge, standing to Ember’s right. She gave a fleeting, expressionless glance toward him – enough for him to know that he’d been recognised – and then her attention returned downward. Spike found himself following suit, not able to come up with the crucial words that might comfortably break the iron grip of silence, which only became stronger the longer it went on.

There was a calm, reflective quiet as all three dragons studied the metropolis beneath. The pristine city of Canterlot nestled proudly against the mountainside. Tall spires of polished marble rising with effortless grace, crowned in gold that shone and gleamed with the warm light of the daytime sun, and purples that would darken and become richer with the onset of evening. Flags flew and banners waved, fountains flowed and shining statues stood proud while thin waterfalls cascaded from a dozen points on the outer edge of the city limit, tumbling into thin mist. It was stunning.

“It is pathetic,” concluded the large dragon at Ember’s left, breaking the long silence with a voice that was a low, confident rumble. “See how fragile everything is. Those towers: I could fell one with a single beat of my wings. I would not even need to touch it.” He paused and his lips curled into a toothy grin as he glanced down to Ember, an eager twinkle to his eyes. “Let me try.”

“No, Scald,” muttered Ember, not taking her eyes from Canterlot.

The dragon gave a light snort and waited, but Ember had no further words for him it seemed. After another intractable silence he gave a heavier, more disdainful snort and slowly turned, lumbering away from the edge.

Ember and Spike remained, and there was a long silence between them before...

“It’s beautiful...” whispered Ember. And when Spike looked over he could have sworn he saw a tiny tear in her eye.

“Ember?” he tried. But she seemed not to hear. Instead she took a breath.

“I bet... I bet one pony didn’t build that city by themselves, did they? I bet there were lots of them, working together. I bet one day there were two ponies building one of those walls, and one said to the other, ‘hey, could you pass me that brick?’... and he did. And there wasn’t an argument over it. And he didn’t tell him to go get it himself. He just passed him the brick. I bet that happened a lot.”

She at last turned her head towards him, meeting his gaze. “That’s just normal here, right? I mean... if we were here and I wasn’t the Dragon Lord... and we were friends, and I asked for something... like... one of those hug things... maybe... you’d just do it, right? And it’d be normal.”

“Ember... we are friends,” said Spike. “If you’re... saying you need a hug...?”

“No, I’m saying if I did, it wouldn’t have to be a big deal, right? Because it’s just what happens here.” She gave a huff, then her expression relaxed and she cast her gaze once more to the city below. “I... can see why you like it,” she admitted.

Spike let the silence lie for a moment. Years being around Twilight had taught him to be observant to those times when the best way to get ponies to say more, was not to say anything at all.

Ember sighed and gave him a quick glance. “Spike? This is gonna sound weird, but I have to say it now or I’m never going to. When we did the Gauntlet together... well, I never told you why I left you behind.”

“Ember, that doesn’t matter...”

“No, it’s important,” she stalled, and had to will herself to start again. “It’s just, I’ve spent all my life in the Dragon Lands. I learned to be strong, resourceful, and not to rely on any other dragon for anything, just like every other dragon. That was my whole world. Then you showed up and... for a moment I saw how different it was with you and your friends. I was embarrassed to admit to myself that I liked the look of it. And then... we actually started helping each other...”

“I guess it felt too weird, huh?”

“No. And that’s just it. Us working together... it felt... right. It felt normal. And when I realised that, it freaked me out! I mean... why did something so... alien... something that went against everything I knew... feel normal? How could it? It didn’t make sense at all. It weirded me out, so... I bailed. But then the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t ignore how right it felt, even if it didn’t make sense. Suddenly it was going it alone again that felt wrong. So I came back, and we helped each other and it felt right again. Then... when I actually became Dragon Lord I wanted... I mean, I thought maybe that could be the new normal. For all of us.”

Ember smiled for a moment, but then her smile dropped bitterly and a scowl came upon her. She took a new breath. “But it’s like banging my head against a cliff, Spike. Just last week I caught two dragons fighting. They’d made a good find: they dug up an opal that was bigger than me. But then, predictably, they’d started arguing over it. One wanted to hoard it. The other wanted to eat it. And the only way they knew how to decide what to do was by fighting.” She sighed heavily. “I stopped them, and I made them break it in two halves so that they would have a half each. Problem solved, right?” She shook her head. “You know what happened?”

Spike shook his head mutely.

“The dragon who wanted to eat it ate his half. And then the fight started again, because he didn’t have half an opal anymore and he wanted half an opal. And because he was stronger, he won. And he took the other half and ate that too. And then there was no opal. And they both looked upset.” At her sides, Ember’s fists clenched. Her lips curled into a snarl. “This is what I have to work with, Spike. I knew dragons were idiots but it’s things like this every day. They just don’t get it. How can they not get it?! How can they look at something like this city and only see towers that are easy to destroy? How do they not understand that that—” she pointed a sharp claw at the pony capital, “—is what can be achieved when folks aren’t obsessed with trying to be top dog all the time?” She gave an exasperated sigh and looked longingly at Canterlot. “Dragons have never built a city. They’d fight over the bricks.”

Ember closed her eyes and took a long breath. When she opened them again, there was new determination in them. “But someday we will. It might take decades, or even centuries, but we will. With me as Dragon Lord, dragons are going to be respected. And I don’t mean ‘feared’ Spike, I mean respected. We’ll have our own cities, machines, science, magic. We’ll be seen as a responsible power, not a volatile horde safer looked on from afar. If even a few dragons can see the potential in co-operation and teamwork like I did, that’ll be the start. But they’re sure not gonna see it in the Dragon Lands. So I figured: where better to show them how it works than somewhere where it’s normal? Somewhere like Equestria, where this whole society is based on the idea that being together is better than going it alone. I mean, even to the extent that you don’t have one single ruler... and they work together, without constantly trying to outdo each other.”

“Wow. This is great!” cried Spike with a relieved grin. “I knew it! I knew you weren’t here to attack! Oh, whew, are there gonna be a lot of relieved ponies down there.”

Ember blinked. Raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Attack? Relieved?”

“You, uh... well, you didn’t think to tell anypony you were coming?”

Ember frowned. “We’re dragons – we go where we will.”

“Yeah, that might have been a mistake.”

“Oh? Why?” replied Ember with a little tetchy tone.

Spike gave Ember a sympathetic but serious look. “Ember, you appeared out of nowhere with enough literal firepower to destroy half a country and parked it right over the pony capital without so much as a hello. You’ve sent everyone to the edge of mass panic. The Guard are locking the place down. The Princesses are preparing for you to invade. You said you don’t want dragons to be feared, but right now everypony in the city down there is terrified of you. I’m just saying, maybe next time... write ahead?”

Ember’s brow creased into an angry scowl. Her head snapped to the side and she barked, “Scald!”

Summoned, the ungainly red-scaled dragon rose and advanced on all four legs across the plateau, covering the playing-field sized distance in two ponderous steps. Bringing himself to the edge once more he gazed at Ember, sparing only a passing, disinterested glance for Spike. “My Lord?”

“My... scout... here informs me that they’re fortifying their city. Against us,” she said in a low tone.

“Futile,” he murred.

“You said the natives would accept our presence. You assured me.”

Scald quirked an eyebrow. “The natives can do nothing about our presence, so they must scurry along with their lives regardless. What is that, if not acceptance?” Understanding seemed to dawn in Scald’s eyes, but he maintained his cool composure and bowed his head respectfully before speaking again. “I never meant to imply that we would be welcome,” he said. “We are dragons. We are not welcome anywhere.”

“You told me their rulers would approach me. How likely is that, if they’re bracing themselves for a seige?” Ember snapped.

Scald gave a slow, sage nod. “They will come. Once it dawns on their hierarchy that we are not leaving, they will have no choice,” he explained, his voice carrying an easy confidence – the kind that only really came from experience. “Their leaders will arrive defiant, bearing bold faces and indignant rhetoric, and mayhap even empty threats – all of it a desperate facade they must adopt to save face before their plebeians. In truth they will be terrified and in their eagerness to negotiate our... ‘abstinence’... they will agree to anything. If you wish to claim Equestria’s Greatest Treasure... you will have only to demand it, and it shall be yours, my Lord.”

Ember seemed to consider this a moment. With a quick, wordless inclination of her head toward the cave she dismissed Scald, who retreated once more.

A smothering quiet descended, Ember looking contemplative. Perhaps a little worried. “This can still work,” she murmured.

“Um... ‘Equestria’s Greatest Treasure?’” asked Spike gently with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed. Gave him a split-second sideways glance and returned to looking down at the city. “I needed a hook,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t just drag five powerful dragons out here for no reason.”

“But... you’re the Dragon Lord. Don’t they have to do what you tell them?”

Ember gave him a quick, sharp look at that. A withering glance coloured with annoyance. “You’ve never been in power. I don’t expect you to understand.”

Ember’s eyes left him and she looked down to Canterlot once more. There was another quiet moment between them before Spike spoke again.

“I was a Princess, once,” he said. Ember raised an eyebrow and glanced askance at him.

“Huh?”

“Yeah... maybe the less said about that day the better,” he conceded. “The point is... I understand more than you might think? In fact... I know exactly how hard it can be. I wanna help. Just... try me?”

Ember sighed. “I brought these dragons because they’re among the oldest, most respected and most listened-to there are. Unfortunately that also makes them the most stubborn and set in their ways. Yes, Spike, I can order them here. But I can’t order them to keep their minds open. If this is going to work... if I’m gonna have any chance at getting them to change and convince other dragons to do the same, I need them to buy-in to it. And if they thought I was dragging them here to meet ponies, make friends and learn about teamwork, I’d have failed before I’d even begun! I needed to give them a reason to want to come see this. Treasure’s good for that. Besides... it’s not a lie. Equestria’s Greatest Treasure is here. It just... isn’t what they think it is.” She put on a little, furrowed frown and her eyes stared with the same determination he’d seen earlier. “And in the long run, it’ll be more valuable to the dragons than all the gold in the world.”

Another moment of silence. The conversation so far wasn’t hostile... but it really wasn’t an easygoing chat either. Ember really had a lot on her mind. And her plate.

“What’s his deal, anyway?” asked Spike, nodding over his shoulder.

“Scald? He’s pretty much the single most respected dragon still alive... and almost unique in that he’s only a total jerk most of the time. He’s been to every corner of the world, and seen more than any ten dragons put together. Makes him the closest thing I have to a foreign advisor. If I can get him on-board, a lot of other dragons will fall in behind him.” She gave him another quick, sharp look. “Play nice.”

“Whoa... uh... ‘foreign advisor’?” asked Spike. “Did you actually just—?”

“Shh! Not so loud. I’m barely able to get these dragons together in one place without them all laying into each other. Convincing them to work together is going to be a mountain to climb. If they knew I was trying to wrangle them into some kind of actual government... well I can kiss the whole idea goodbye. It’s a long game. Slow and steady.”

There was another, contemplative silence.

Finally Spike spoke up. “Ember... these seem like pretty big changes you’re trying to make. Like... huge.”

“No. You think? Why do you think I’ve had to go to all this effort?” she huffed. “It’s sure not for fun. But it’s going to be worth it. I know it.”

“I’m just wondering what your dad thinks about all this,” said Spike.

“Dad?” she scoffed. “He’s enjoying a post-retirement nap. It might be a decade before I see him again.” She sighed again, a heavy, weary affair. “I’m on my own.”

Spike looked up. Ember’s face was tired, frustrated, melancholic and even fearful all at once as her baleful gaze travelled again to the city far below, as though it were some kind of promised land. On instinct he reached out, gently took her claw in his, and just held it. “No, you’re not.”

There was another silence before,

“Thanks,” she whispered. And then... for an instant, she smiled. The first time he’d seen her do so since he arrived.

Suddenly, from higher up the mountain, a piercing, shrieking roar rang out. Whirling, Spike looked up to see two dragons squaring up. A lithe azure-scaled creature confronted a stockier yellow-scaled brute, both screaming at each other and taking swipes with long, sharp claws. The noise was tremendous, surely enough to rattle the bones and chill the blood of every pony in the city. And then they started grapelling.

“Not again...” groaned Ember. She unfurled and extended her wings and gave them a couple of light flaps. “What was I saying? Something about getting dragons here without them laying into each other?” She looked at Spike. “This might take a while.” And with that she took flight, climbing towards the summit and the two battling dragons.

* * *

In the throne room, the presentation was in full flow.

“...in towers located around the city. And when all six crystals are charged with magical energy, your highnesses...” said the Lieutenant, and an instant later a large purple dome flashed into existence over the scale model of Canterlot in front of him.

Stepping closer and around the model, Luna eyed the shimmering wall of energy critically. “I can see seams. Should they be there? These are points of weakness, no?”

“Uhm... ah, yes, your highness. Where the individual fields meet they... conflict slightly.”

“Then would it not make sense to have just one, not six?”

“We cannot cover the entire city with a single enchantment, your highness. Captain Armor was exceptionally gifted in this field, and his spell highly efficient. Trying to replicate it on the same scale has proved much trickier than we ever expected.”

“I see. And for how long do you anticipate this shield would protect the city, were it to come under attack from a draconic horde?”

“Uh... well, our best estimates suggest somewhere in the region of... an hour?”

“Gracious! An entire hour? How would we fill the time?”

“Luna!” snapped Celestia with an annoyed scowl before returning her attention to the Lieutenant. “An hour is longer than we would have without. Thank you for your demonstration,” she said, dismissing him with a kind nod. The guardspony lit his horn, turned, and trotted from the throne room, model city in tow.

Luna sighed. “This is perhaps not the inspired idea I thought it to be,” she conceded. “Strategy will not be our salvation and neither, it now seems, will innovation.”

“It has not been a total waste,” consoled Celestia. “The magical fire-proof paint was a useful concept.”

“Yes, and if we begin immediately then perhaps in ten years the city will be fully flame-retardant. Alas, I doubt it will also be claw, spike and tooth-retardant,” she grouched. “And the colour. I would almost sooner Canterlot be destroyed than have every building daubed in that... sickly green. Ick.”

Celestia smiled. Even in a crisis Luna had a way of cheering her up, whether she knew it or not. And she had managed to cajole her from the War Room, an apparently simple act that had done a surprisingly good deal to lift her spirits.

Still, there were important matters at hoof. Her smile slipped and her game-face returned.

“Who is next?” asked Celestia.

“Professor Oppenhoover, your highness,” replied the Keeper of Appointments, reading the next entry on his scroll.

“The eccentric lecturer from your school?” asked Luna of her sister.

“Yes...” said Celestia with a little hitch in her voice. Already her confidence in the Professor’s proposal – whatever it might be – waned.

The door to the throne room was opened and the Professor strode in. A very pale lilac pony with a grey, dishevelled mane, thinning in places, and a set of round glasses so thick they may as well have been made from the bottoms of jam-jars. Behind him, surrounded by his light-green aura, he wheeled a trolley upon which sat an apparatus. It resembled two large glass goldfish bowls connected side-to-side by a hollow glass tube, eight inches long and as thick as a foal’s foreleg. Large covers over the tops ensured that both bowls were closed, and in one of them, an iguana was currently basking, untroubled by the world.

“Professor I did not expect you to offer a proposal,” said Celestia honestly. “What do you have for us?”

“The simplest of resolutions to the current emergency, your highnesses, and one that can be implemented almost immediately and at virtually no expense of time or money,” beamed the professor.

“Indeed?” said Luna, her ears perking and her interest gained. Celestia remained reserved.

The professor wheeled his apparatus in front of himself, displayed clearly for the Princesses. He cleared his throat. “The problem: we do not currently possess any weaponry that can act as an effective counter to a dragon attack. They are too large, fast, and well-armoured to engage directly without catastrophic risk. The solution? Well it is right here in Canterlot!” he boasted, and produced from the trolley a flower of distinctive red and orange bloom. “I have been conducting experiments with the pollen of the draconis respiratum violenti... the so-called ‘dragon-sneeze tree.’ By filtering and refining, I have been able to produce a more concentrated compound which... well, if you will permit me to demonstrate?”

Celestia nodded.

Using his aura the professor opened the top of the glass bowl containing the iguana and dropped in a small, round object the size of a plum; a short, thin cord protruding. Then the lid was replaced. “If you will do me the honour of lighting the fuse, your majesty?” he asked of Celestia.

Celestia had to refrain from rolling her eyes, but nevertheless lit her horn, and a moment later the cord sizzled and sparked. It burnt quickly and then with a muted pop the small round bomb exploded into a pale pink mist.

The iguana’s reaction was immediate. Its eyes began to water and it began to sneeze violently, again and again. It turned its head in panic and, seeing the tube connecting to the other glass bowl, made a beeline straight for it, through it, and took refuge as far away from the irritating mist as it could. It sneezed twice more, its sinuses slow to clear.

“Voila!” said the professor. “Acute respiratory distress informing a sudden desire to vacate any area in which my compound has dispersed.” He took a quick bow and then straightened. “The effect scales with the size of the subject. For a full-grown dragon, I estimate an effective concentration could be as low as...”

In the glass bowl tendrils of pink mist began to diffuse through the tunnel towards the iguana.

“... the right mixture of firework powder and compound, could be dispersed over as wide an area...”

The iguana began to sneeze again. Its head darted left and right, but it found no escape from the fumes.

“... any zone in which the presence of a dragon is less than desirea—”

“Uh... yes, professor, that’s very nice, but before you continue do you think that—?” began Celestia, her worried attention on the apparatus. Only to be cut off by her sister.

“REMOVE THAT INNOCENT CREATURE FROM ITS CONFINEMENT AND EASE ITS SUFFERING AT ONCE!” bellowed Luna.

The professor jolted and blinked, as though reminded of something important. In a hurry he removed the lid from the second glass bowl and levitated the poor iguana from it. As soon as it was out it ceased its sneezing, and the professor set it aside where it promptly lay down, curled up and went to sleep, none the worse for wear.

The professor held his muzzle over the bowl he had opened and inhaled. “The fragrance is not dissimilar from a rose, your highnesses.”

Both sisters looked on, aghast. It was Celestia who spoke. “Professor, are you saying...?”

“Indeed I am! Princess Celestia? Princess Luna? I give you a weapon quite unlike anything before it. Area denial on as massive a scale as you wish. A true countermeasure with which we can keep the dragons at bay, and what is more, completely harmless to ponies! I thank you.”

The two sisters were still stunned. “Professor this is... most impressive,” said Luna finally.

“I am glad you approve.”

“How quickly can you manufacture this compound?”

“Why it is simply a question of refining and distilling, your highness. The bottleneck is not that, but rather quantity. We are limited in the amounts we can produce by the number of trees in the city and, as you have seen, the effects are highly temporary...” he said, trailing off with a little uncertain lilt.

“Professor?” asked Celestia.

“Forgive me your highness. I... hesitate to bring this up, but there is a way we can maximise our use of the available resources.”

“Then speak it. We would have all of the options open to us,” said Luna.

“Well... there exists the possibility to concentrate and refine the compound further. Acute respiratory distress could, rather simply, become acute respiratory failure...” he finished, not quite able to meet the gaze of either sister.

And it was well he could not, for their expressions had much soured. “Professor?” began Celestia dangerously, “You are not suggesting the creation of a... lethal, chemical weapon?”

The professor raised his chin and found some confidence. “Yes... I am, your highness. One that could, at a stroke, eliminate the entire threat posed with no risk to ourselv—”

“OUT OF THE QUESTION!” roared Luna, her mood changing in an instant. “Equestria will never resort to the use of such a measure!”

“Y-yes your highness, b-but... if you’ll forgive me... that is rather beside the point. When I spoke, I said that it ‘could’ eliminate the threat... not that it would. You see, the fact that we possessed such capability would, by its mere existence, mean that we would be much less likely to use it.”

Celestia narrowed her eyes a little, but curiosity won out. “Go on...”

“It is called ‘Deterrence.’ It is a new theory, one that myself and a colleague in the faculty have recently been discussing. A way of preventing conflict by instilling in a potential enemy... the fear to attack. Fear that our retaliation upon them would be utterly devastating. We have never had anything in our arsenal that could give the dragons pause before, but this... this weapon would be a new, clear deterrent. Once the dragons know we possess it, they would know that to initiate a conflict against us would be to invite catastrophe upon themselves. Hence the risk of an attack would be lowered... and the weapon itself would never actually be used.” He cleared his throat sheepishly. “As I said... the simplest of solutions.”

Both sisters stared, mouths once more agape. Luna with a faint scowl.

After a very lengthy and awkward pause, Celestia raised her head. “Clear the room, please. I need a moment to talk to my sister.”

The professor, the Keeper of Appointments and the two attendant guards quickly filed through the throne-room doors, closing them afterwards.

Luna took a step away and rounded on Celestia. “You cannot be serious...” she accused.

“We need something we can use against the dragons, Luna. Something that could stop them if they decided to attack,” muttered Celestia morosely, head low.

“Then have him brew his original concoction!” retorted Luna. “Though even the use of that is now tainted by an ethical quandary. But at least it does not place us but a reckless word away from committing a war-crime!”

“And when it is exhausted? And our defences fail inside of an hour? What then? Our ponies would be defenseless and at the mercy of our invaders. How can we leave them so?”

“Then we shall focus on our defences!” snapped Luna. “We will find other solutions! But not this. I do not want the ability to cause genocide within reach of my hooves, Celestia.”

“But what if there were no need to rely on our defences? Or our offences for that matter? What if we could stop an assault before it ever began? Before it were even considered? The professor’s theory... I... I see merit in it,” she admitted, though it sounded as though it pained her to do so. A long silence followed.

“I do not,” said Luna haughtily, sniffing and raising her muzzle to the ceiling. “This is a dark path. The professor’s entire theory is based upon fear! You wish to inculcate fear of Equestria into the dragons? To dissuade a potential attack by inviting them to view us evermore with trepidation and suspicion? Do you not see how unstable an equilibrium that is?! That is not a road that leads to lasting peace, only to paranoia and resentment!” Then she fixed her sister’s gaze, but with eyes that were open, warm, and pleading. “You and I have never sought to inspire fear, sister. In anyone. For any reason. That is not us. Our way has always been trust, and understanding; to foster bonds of respect and love. We eliminate our enemies by turning them into friends. Friends do not attack friends. That is our deterrence.”

“It is not as though I never tried, Luna. Torch ignored every overture I sent,” Celestia lamented.

“But never replied with force. And neither has his progeny. Indeed, if the things young Spike said are true it may even be that the new Dragon Lord views us with a measure of good faith. Think how that might change if we tell them we have built a weapon designed to wipe them out,” admonished Luna. “How could they see us as anything other than an enemy? How would we see them, were the situation reversed? Would we ever have peace?”

“And if they have no interest in peace? If the time comes that they act against us, and we have failed to prepare?” There was a long silence. “I... just don’t know, sister,” whispered Celestia, hanging her head.

Suddenly the door the the throne room was opened and in strode the Keeper of Appointments with a deep, apologetic bow. In a split-second, Celestia was once again all business. “I believe I asked for a moment alone?” she pointed out.

“Forgive me your highnesses, but there is activity on the summit.”

“Activity?” asked Celestia.

“Two of the dragons have begun to fight...”

* * *

The green in front of the castle was full of ponies clustered together, necks craned upward by the time the Princesses had reached it. High above, just below the peak of the mountain, two shapes grappled, pulled, pushed and slashed at each other to a chorus of infuriated screeching and roaring.

Just beneath the cacophony, fevered murmurings issued from the crowd.

“...wonder if they’re fighting over who gets to eat us?”

“...they stop attacking each other, we’re next!”

“...wager twenty bits on the blue one...”

“...completely out of control!”

Striding forward, Celestia raised her head and spoke with confidence in an attempt to preserve calm. “Have no fear, my subjects. The dragons’ own quarrels are not—”

“LOOK OUT!” screamed a piercing voice from among the throng, and Celestia and Luna’s heads whipped up.

One of the battling dragons had been thrown heavily into the mountain rock by the other. And from the impact, a significant number of rocks had been dislodged. They began to fall, and as they fell they gathered more. A steadily building landslide of boulders, some the size of carriages, tumbled down from the mountain summit.

“Luna...?”

“They will miss the city,” confirmed her younger sister, wearing a low frown, concentrating on the myriad paths of the rocks bouncing their way toward oblivion.

It didn’t stop a large portion of the crowd from crying out, or screaming and some even took to their hooves and ran, though clearly with no destination in mind. But for all the rumbling and crashing and cracking and thundering, the entire landslide continued to plummet, falling past the city on its southward side toward the vale of Equestria far below.

When the noise had died, the crowd let out a collective sigh of relief and then turned as one to their rulers with varying levels of expectation and fear.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?!” cried one.

“We can’t stay here. It’s not safe!” wailed another. Quickly their voices were joined by more, and then more until the whole assembly was yelling terror-fuelled judgment at the princesses. There was even a moment when it looked like the Guard would move to interpose themselves between the mob and the two sisters, but Celestia caught the eye of the closest and, with a mere look, forbade it.

She raised her head and extended her wings, speaking with authoritative serenity. “Please, my little ponies, remain calm. The dragons are not attacking us, they are squabbling among themselves. We have no cause to believe that they mean us any ill will. I beseech you all: return to your homes and do not panic.”

The simple sound of Celestia’s voice, clear and laden with authority, was mollifying but only to an extent. It had not escaped the notice of many that no actual plan had been offered. That no reassurance that the dragons would be leaving soon had been given. The shouts died only to murmurs, and there rose insistent rumblings from many in the crowd that the dragons should be made to go, and that the city wouldn’t be safe until they did. And a vocal and persistent undertone that spoke of the wish to up and leave until the danger was past.

“I have no love of playing the daemon’s advocate, sister,” Luna spoke close to her sister’s ear with reluctant candour, “But the altercation we have just witnessed does not bode well. The conclusion can be drawn that either the Dragon Lord encourages such fighting, or she has lost control of her subjects. In both cases, the likelihood of further violence is high,” she observed. “If such outbursts continue, when would we act? Would we wait until the collateral damage begins to crush buildings? Or would we wait until it injures ponies?” She gave a firm glare upward to the summit.

“Even if they never fight again, I foresee dire consequences,” rued Celestia. “It is entirely conceivable that the dragons could remain atop the mount for years. Decades. Centuries, even. If enough of our subjects decide to leave their homes through fear, a tipping point will soon be reached. There would follow a mass exodus and Canterlot will wither without the ponies to sustain it.” She sighed. “The dragons may yet destroy this city, and never even have to lift a claw against it.” She met her sister’s gaze. “We have a duty to our subjects; to ensure the ponies who have made their homes here feel safe in them. It is clear they do not, and they will not until the dragons leave. They cannot stay, Luna.”

Luna looked back but finally sighed in reluctant agreement. “And so the situation escalates again. Our response must now address the fact that the dragons’ actions are putting our citizens in danger. As for asking them to leave... I cannot imagine such a demand will be well received,” said Luna. “And if they won’t agree to move on, our response will have to address that too.” She met her sister’s gaze with serious eyes. “What then?”

“I will speak to Professor Oppenhoover... and issue the dragons an ultimatum,” said Celestia gravely. “Give me an alternative, sister. I beg you.”

Luna sighed. Bowed her head. Shook it slowly. “How is it that though we wish to avoid a confrontation with all our might, we find ourselves edging closer toward it?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

“You still intend to go alone?” asked Luna softly.

“I do.”

Luna gave a reluctant nod. “When?”

Celestia gazed hard at the summit, firm resolve forming.

“Sunset.”

Summit

The fight was over, the terrible roaring subsided and the dust slowly cleared, but Ember didn’t return. That left Spike at a loose end. He didn’t fancy the risky-looking climb up the steep slope from the plateau to try and find Ember – and got the distinct impression he’d very much be getting in the way of whatever she was doing if he did. He sure didn’t want to make things worse. Ember wasn’t here out of hostility, but the whole situation definitely had a certain... precariousness to it. He didn’t want to risk rocking the boat.

So for now he was sort of stuck where he was. The only proximate dragon was Scald, lying on his belly and curled with his back against the mountain slope adjacent to the cave entrance. For a moment he seemed disinterested in the entire world, until he caught Spike looking. He began to watch him, the faintest of curiosities behind slitted black irises. Play nice, Ember had said.

Okay. Deep breath.

“Um... hi!” he started. Good work so far, Spike. Hit ‘em with the old roguish charm.

The ‘faintest of curiosities behind slitted black irises’ suddenly seemed to fade to utter disinterest.

“I’m Spike.” That’s the ticket, Spike. Way to be.

The dragon drew a long, heavy, nasal breath. Then, “Greetings,” it said in bored strains. The kind of slow, noncommittal reply that acknowledged he had been addressed, but invited absolutely no follow-up conversation whatsoever.

“It’s, uh... Scald, right? Ember mentioned you, is all... uh...” Keep playing it cool, Spike. You got this.

“Yet she never mentioned you. A kobold who appears to have come from nowhere to bend her ear,” he huffed. “I should be curious. Alas.”

“Uh... a what? Kobold? What’s a... kobold?”

That seemed to draw Scald’s attention. Spike gulped involuntarily. “You are,” Scald explained, as though pointing out the nose on his face.

That touched a slight nerve actually, and Spike found his brow darkening, a little confident fire in his belly. “Hey! I’m not a kobold. I’m a dragon!” he boasted.

Scald’s confusion only looked to increase. Finally he seemed to settle on further explanation. “A cub is not quite a bear. A pup is not truly a wolf. A kobold... is not yet a dragon.” He gave Spike a thin, toothy smile. “One day, little one. Patience and greed.”

Oh. Okay then. Moving on. “So, what were they fighting about anyway?” he asked with a glance upwards.

Yet more confusion. “I do not understand your question.”

“Well... those two dragons up there... they were fighting,” Spike pointed out.

“Yes?”

“So? What about? I mean they can’t have been fighting for nothing. There’s gotta be a reason?”

The large dragon gave Spike an odd look. As though Spike were speaking in an entirely foreign tongue. “Why must there?”

After another silence, Spike returned the expression. “Seriously? You mean... there’s no reason? At all? They fight just because they’re dragons and dragons fight?”

The look Scald gave him then. Thorough confusion and mild contempt. Like he was conversing with someone who had somehow never learned that water was wet.

Spike blinked, and felt a little abashed under that gaze. “Never mind. The fight’s over, so what’s taking Ember so long?”

Scald let out a mighty, short huff of a sigh. “Our new Dragon Lord... ‘disapproves’ of fighting. Since she has halted it, Pyre and Ash will want a winner judged. Lord Ember has a habit of... encouraging compromise,” he grumbled. “It is time consuming and inevitably neither gets what they want. Easier to let them finish.”

Right. So could still be a while before she got back then. Still... it occured to him that this was an opportunity to gauge how Ember’s stewardship was being received by dragons at large. “So uh...” he hesitated a little before finding his resolve again. “What... what’s she like? As a ruler, I mean?” He paused. “Great?”

Scald regarded him a moment, then lowered his head, resting it on his large forelimbs. “Divisive.” The large dragon drew a long, lazy breath. “She has rubbed several scales the wrong way. Her views are... progressive.”

Not exactly the ringing endorsement he’d been hoping for. “But... isn’t that a good thing? Progress?”

Scald regarded him again. “What need have dragons of ‘progress’? We are already supreme.”

“So... you... don’t like her?”

The question seemed to draw Scald’s ire. “Do not put words in my mouth unless you wish to join them, kobold,” he hissed. Though after a moment his glare cooled. “My judgment waits. I would be a fool to discount entirely the notion that there might come a day when some, random, ‘new’ idea breeds us new strength. And even the greatest Dragon Lords were not created as such. There is no harm in letting her experiment with her ‘ideals’ and her ‘compromises’, and once they come to nought she will learn from their failure. And at least by leading this raid she has shown she is not wholly divorced from traditional values. She will improve.”

“Wait... R-raid?”

“Returning triumphant with Equestria’s Greatest Treasure to add to her hoard will quell many of her doubters. If we are lucky, she may even apportion shares.”

Uh oh. “So... that’s why you’re all here? To see Ember raid the ponies’ city and take home some Equestrian gold?” asked Spike. Boy were they in for a disappointment.

“None but Ember knows the nature of the Treasure,” said Scald, cracking a wide, very thin, very toothy grin. “But even so, I know it is far more valuable than mere gold.”

But... it isn’t real? “Okay, hold on. If you don’t know what it is, how do you even know a treasure exists, let alone how valuable it is?” pointed out Spike.

Scald’s brow wrinkled into anger and his gaze burned at Spike, clearly becoming annoyed at the incessant questions flowing from this child. “I cannot see the wind nor do I know how it is created, but I know it exists for I see its effects on the world. I have seen what this treasure can do.” Then, after a moment his features relaxed again. “Have you ever heard of Griffonstone, the capital of the Griffon Kingdom? It is a ruin. Or it was,” he said, his lip curling into a little sneer. “Griffons and dragons are natural enemies. Their greed is respectable, though of course ours is superior. We have always battled over gold, jewels and other valuables. And yet, in recent times we encounter them less frequently when we hunt for treasure; when we do, they do not fight for gold with anything like the zeal they once did; and their long-forsaken city is suddenly transformed to glory where it was an abject assortment of collapsed shacks.” He fixed Spike with a new stare. “Such momentous change in so short a time has a cause. I chanced upon a pair of them on my travels and bested them in a pitifully short fight.” The sneer grew a little, “As my prize, I demanded they enlighten me, and I learned much.

“It seems that recently two ponies visited Griffonstone, and brought with them a valuable gift that they bestowed upon the Griffon tribe. They would not tell me what, for they were cagey and coy as Griffons are, but no matter: the conclusion is inescapable. Something of such worth that Griffons now seldom see the need to pursue other treasure; so priceless that it was able to kick-start the regeneration of their entire city overnight. I will not bore you with economic conclusions that invites, but suffice it to say, that... is a vast level of wealth. That is how I know such treasure exists.”

Oh boy, have you ever got the wrong idea, thought Spike, a little cold sweat trickling down his neck.

Scald took a breath. “My revelation came as no surprise to Lord Ember, for it seems she has had her own experience, interrogating actual ponies. She calls their gift Equestria’s Greatest Treasure, and she decreed that if the ponies would share it with the Griffons, then she would ensure they would share it with the Dragons also. And so we are ordered here, to see her lay claim to it for her glory.” He gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Lord Ember has kept its nature close to her chest... but I have my theories. The secret of alchemy, perhaps. Creating gold! Or perhaps there is truth to the tales of ponies wielding a magic that can find gemstones hidden inside the very rock! Imagine...” he said, his thin tongue licking his lips. “Oh, to find one of those and take them as a prize! Though such specimens – if they exist – are rumoured to be something of a rarity.”

Spike gulped. Froze. His blood chilled. Another trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck and his mouth locked into an involuntary, horrified rictus. “Or y-you, could maybe just ask her? Them, I mean them! I mean after all, the ponies are pretty generous— I mean not generous, benevolent! Charitable. Hospitable. You... wouldn’t need to take anypony.”

“As if anycreature would help a dragon without coercion,” he snorted. “But perhaps it is fantasy after all. Have you any notion? Loathe as I am to spoil the surprise, Lord Ember mentioned you were... some manner of scout?”

“Uh n-no. Not exactly sure,” stammered Spike. And then hit upon an idea. “But you know what? I did hear all the ponies talking about how excited they are to meet the dragons, and how ready they are to share their treasure with us. Sounds good, right?” Big grin.

A dreadful pause. “That bodes well for them.”

“Uh... bodes?” Big nervous grin.

Scald turned him a slight frown. “Lord Ember will return to the Dragon Lands with Equestria’s treasure. This is a certainty,” he rumbled, as though he were relaying simple fact. “The cooperation of the ponies is... optional?”

Gulp.

Suddenly, movement in the sky caught Spike’s eye and his eyes snapped toward it. Scald must have seen it to, and he lifted his head from his forelegs. “Oh,” he purred, causing Spike to look up to find he was looking out over the plateau, to the sky beyond where the low sun was just meeting the horizon, glinting off dozens of small, golden shapes flying in regimented formation. Toward them. “Finally.”

* * *

Celestia’s chariot, drawn by four of her most decorated pegasus Guards, circled with a deliberate grace as it approached the high mountain plateau beneath the summit. She was flanked by no fewer than four score of Royal Guardsponies, every one of them in full golden battle armour polished to a rich reflective gleam, near blinding to look at where their curves caught the sunlight. Braces of Pegasi drew twenty ostentatious chariots containing their unicorn and earth-pony brethren in perfect, synchronised formation. Brass trumpets blared the Royal Anthem and banners streamed and were raised high; the Equestrian flag prominently and proudly displayed as the Princess’ chariot finally made landfall and rolled to a stop. With inch-perfect precision each and every other chariot in her entourage followed her lead onto the plateau, with ponies disembarking and standing at rigid attention in perfect, military formation.

This was not simply an arrival, it was a statement. This was pomp and circumstance, shock and awe on a miniature scale but promising so much more. We are Equestria, it said. And there is plenty more where this came from.

But even as Celestia stepped from her chariot and raised her head high and confident she had to concede the force was tiny compared to the dragons.

She strode forward, advancing from her escort toward the centre of the plateau, squinting against the wind, eyes alert for danger yet seeing only boredom and inaction from her reptilian opposites. She planted her hooves and raised her head high, and a little magical amplification ensured that when she spoke she was addressing as many ears as she could reach while her earlier words rang in her head. The weak are dominated.

“I am Celestia, Princess of Equestria!” her voice boomed, echoing up the mountain peak to the surprise of most of the dragons who were not expecting such volume from something so tiny. “I will speak to the one who speaks for you!”

The echo of her voice reverberated about the mountaintop for a long moment before finally fading to nothing, and in the silence that followed it was as though she had never spoken. Then, at length one dragon – the closest; a huge scarlet-scaled creature resting on the plateau itself – stirred, his attention falling fully upon her for a lengthy, malevolent moment.

He spoke.

“Keep making demands, pony...” the beast rumbled, a deep, bassy growl that cut right through the wind and which one felt as much as heard. “Make as many as you want.” Then resettled himself, broad wings ruffling slightly and his attention entirely elsewhere in an instant.

“Where is Lord Ember?” demanded Celestia.

His narrow, cruel gaze turned back to regard her. “If Lord Ember deigns to grant you an audience, I caution you to show more respect than you are. As much as you are capable of,” he warned with a hiss.

“You will find that since we are in the heartland of my country, that I am the one granting her an audience,” said Celestia undaunted, with a low scowl.

The huge dragon’s attention returned to her for a moment, and he turned her a scathing, condescending eye. “‘Your country,’” it scoffed, dripping with disdain. “You creatures... all the same. Marking your territory and guarding it jealously. Just because you have advanced from making musk on a tree to drawing lines on a map, you suddenly expect the world to take notice.” His sharp grin grew thin and wicked. “A deer can scent every tree and believe it owns the entire forest... do you really believe the bear pays any heed?”

“Equestria has been constituted as a nation for well over a millenia. You will respect our rights and our wishes while you are guests within it,” countered Celestia, head high and confident.

The dragon gave a derisive, dismissive snort. “You plant a flag in the wilderness and huddle around it like frightened children, pretending it grants you privileges you never earned; confers freedoms you cannot protect. Alas, a flag is not so magical. Every single ‘right’ you and your clockwork soldiers here claim to be entitled to I could take away, in just... one... breath,” he hissed, the final word punctuated with a lick of violet flame rising from the back of his throat.

Celestia’s scowl deepened, and she lowered her horn a tad.

Suddenly Spike spoke up, stepping a couple of paces forward to place himself between Celestia and the huge beast. A purely symbolic gesture, but it had the desired effect. “Whoa there! Let’s not get carried away. I’m certain Princess Ember doesn’t want anypony incinerated, just like I know that Princess Celestia doesn’t want anydragon disintegrated. Let’s all just... calm down?” he finished with a nervous grin.

Celestia’s attention immediately snapped to him. Unwise perhaps to allow her gaze to leave the threat that was the larger beast but it was automatic, instinctive. “Spike?!” she said, her surprise obvious.

“Hmm. I see you are acquainted with our scout,” murred Scald.

Celestia spared a rude glare for the beast towering over her. “I see you are acquainted with my ambassador,” she fired back brusquely. She dropped her compassionate gaze once more to Spike. “Spike, are you alright?”

“Your ambassador? Hah! A pony believes it holds sway over the actions of a dragon,” scoffed Scald. “Of course he is alright. Dragons are not frail, puny creatures.”

Celestia spared him a furious, ice-cold glare. “I will hear that from him,” she intoned, and looked again to Spike, her face softening.

“It’s okay, Princess,” said Spike. “It’s okay. I need to let Ember explain, but everything’s going to work out! The dragons aren’t here to fight or destroy or anything.”

“That remains to be seen,” mused Scald. “Though I am certain that once Lord Ember’s demands are made clear, the ponies will hand over their treasure in very short order.” He grinned another thin smile, sharp as a knife-blade.

“Our... ‘treasure’?” said Celestia.

“Your attempts at ignorance will not avail you. Our Lord knows the ponies possess a key to vast wealth. If you are wise you will give it to her with great haste, but I will leave her to make the official demand.”

“I... see. And if ‘The Ponies’ refuse?”

The big dragon regarded her with a sneer. “You will learn that a flag makes for a poor shield, pony.”

“Scald!” interrupted a new, angry voice from above.

At that moment, from the mountaintop above them several loud, reptilian murmurs were heard as Princess Ember descended to alight before Princess Celestia. She crossed to the centre of the space and stopped just a few steps from her counterpart even as Scald stepped aside – to the extent that his giant body could and still leave room for Celestia and her entourage. Before Ember could do any more though, Scald dipped his head to her in a solemn bow, then raised it and spoke again, bellowing to Celestia and the assembled Guard.

“Ponies! You all stand in the presence of Ember, Lord of the Dragons! Bow before her, and show respect!”

Which seemed to catch Ember by surprise and she turned to glance up at him, giving him a quick but withering sideways glare. Princess Celestia pointedly stood straight and proud looking down her muzzle at the Dragon Lord, and in a twist of fate she hadn’t quite been expecting, found herself towering over a diminutive dragon only two-thirds her size. Sensing the tension, Spike hesitantly bent his knee and offered a respectful dip of the head to Ember, hoping that the fact he was a dragon himself wouldn’t cause Celestia to think he was picking sides. Scald was clearly irked by Celestia’s refusal to obey his command to show deference, but his wordless rebuke from Ember was unequivocal, and Ember seemed more inclined to admonish him than to press the issue he had raised. He bowed his head and thereafter stood still and mute. A long and unpleasant silence fell.

Ember looked toward her counterpart, and her eyes immediately slid beyond her to the scores of armed guards at her back. At last she met Celestia’s gaze. “I was hoping the rulers of Equestria might greet me,” she admitted. “But instead you’ve come alone, with half an army behind you and Spike says you’re fortifying your city against us?” She folded her arms and turned half to the side. “This how you welcome everyone?”

Celestia frowned and took a half-step forward, drawing herself up and extending her wings wide. The Dragon Lord referencing Luna so abruptly so immediately made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Was she trying to draw her? Trap her into showing some manner of dependency or weakness? Stay the course, the voice of caution said. Show only strength. “I alone speak for Equestria today, Dragon Lord Ember,” she intoned, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “And no, it is not: it is not Equestria’s policy to extend a welcome those who might mean us ill. I will have an explanation for your uninvited presence here, and for your unprovoked acts of aggression. And I will have it now.”

Presently, there was a low, rumbling cackle growing steadily louder. When Spike looked up, Scald was grinning a wicked, sharp grin. “Amusing. The pony believes a dragon must justify where it goes and what it does,” he murred. “We owe you no ‘explanation’, pony. Lord Ember—”

“Lord Ember will address the Princess herself!” snapped Ember. She huffed and settled her gaze once more on the Princess. “Dragons have never needed permission to fly these lands. Nor to roost in the mountains here. Suddenly you’re calling these acts of aggression?” she said levelly.

Celestia’s lips became a thin line. “You assemble a force powerful enough to devastate my nation and cross our borders without warning or request. You besiege my capital, casting a looming shadow over my city and fomenting fear and intimidation among my subjects. You start a landslide crashing down my mountain while my ponies run in terror, and now consider abandoning the former safety of their homes to flee your presence. And now your advisors pepper my guards and I with insults and threats of destruction if we do not bend to your will,” she seethed with a glance at Scald before returning her fiery gaze downward. Spike felt a cold chill run down his spine. Angry Celestia was truly a terrifying sight to behold. Her gaze rested on Ember, piercing as a needle of ice and wavered not in the slightest. “Yes, Lord Ember, from where I stand these are acts of aggression, and if you offer no explanation then Equestria will have no choice but to conclude that we are under immediate threat... and we will respond accordingly.”

Ember was silent a moment, her gaze unflinching. With a cold, sinking feeling it dawned on her that she was going to have to provide an answer not just for Celestia, but for her contingent of dragons besides. But she couldn’t be seen to yield to demands from a porcelain pony! So... how to respond to that? She raised her head high and spoke loud enough for all to hear. “I’m here to ask... here to... deman— convince... Equestria to share its... greatest treasure... with the dragons. A ‘gift’ that will help unlock our potential, and make us stronger than ever before.” That sounded ok. Above and around them there were murmurs of approval from the other dragons crowding the peak, their attention now highly focused on the scene playing out.

“So I have heard,” said Celestia with another glance at Scald. “And I hear also that you intend to take it by force if we will not hand it over willingly.” She returned her gaze to Ember. When she spoke next, her voice was ice-cold. “I honestly do not know what fable or myth you have chased to this land, Lord Ember, but I assure you it is just that. There is nothing Equestria possesses that can grant you more power than you already enjoy. What you seek is not here, and Equestria has nothing else to offer those who come in force armed with threats. I suggest you take your subjects and depart in peace, before you waste any more of your time on us.”

“Hah! You expect us to be deceived? If you will not offer your treasure, pony, then we will—!”

“Scald!” snapped Ember for the last time. “If I have to still your tongue once more, I’ll have Char tie it in a knot.” When she looked back to Celestia something seemed to change for the darker in her expression. “I see,” she said slowly, deliberately. Her eyes narrowed. “You know... maybe it is just a myth. A fantasy. Equestria clearly isn’t the place I thought it was. Why would it be? Why would you be any different?” she growled.

Celestia’s eyes narrowed further and her stance widened a little, ready to defend herself, the next action of her counterpart far from certain.

“Ember, wait... we can talk about this,” Spike tried but she had already spun around, her attention removed from Celestia, the cold-shoulder well and truly given.

“Scald,” she huffed. “We’re leaving. Sunrise. Tell Pyre he has until then to stop crying about his hurt wing and make himself flightworthy.”

“My Lord,” growled Scald, “I would not have you leave without that which you desire. And if the pony will not give it up willingly— ”

“I said we’re leaving! I was wrong. What I wanted... we won’t find it here.” She gave a quick look back at Celestia, and met her cool eyes with an icy stare of her own. “As for you, Princess: you don’t want us in your country? Fine. Far as you’re concerned, you’ll never have to worry about dragons entering Equestria again. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you’ll never have to worry about ponies and dragons even speaking again,” she said curtly. Then she turned fully away and walked with heavy, frustrated steps and clenched fists over to the large cave in the mountain slope where it met the plateau, and went inside. Had a door existed, it would have been slammed, hard. The whole scene played out with an air of finality that Spike picked up on.

Wait. Never? As in... he might never see Ember again? This... couldn’t be how it ended, could it? He wanted to speak up. To yell at the top of his lungs to Celestia that Ember wasn’t really here for treasure, only for peaceful collaboration! But he couldn’t. Not without undermining Ember in the eyes of the dragons, jeopardising everything she hoped to achieve. That wasn’t his place. Besides, the damage looked like it had already been done. But there had to be a way to save something here!

For her part Celestia seemed surprised, though only for a moment. Her goals surprisingly met and caught without any other reaction she simply nodded a perfunctory ‘very well’ nod. She gave Spike a quick nod and turned, heading for her chariot.

Spike automatically began to follow her, thoughts racing, but even as he started to move he was stopped in his tracks by a low, rumbling voice.

“Where are you going?”

Spike’s blood turned to ice. He turned, slowly, to see Scald’s confused face.

Celestia turned cautiously, brow creasing in anger. “He is going home...” she said, her voice a snarl, her nose wrinkling.

“He is,” agreed Scald. “He is a dragon. What makes you think that he would want to spend any more time surrounded by ponies?”

“Experience,” growled Celestia, planting her hooves again. She lowered her horn and every Guard in the troop shifted their spears. Suddenly, leaving the mountain-top without a fight seemed far less likely. “If you think he is staying here...”

“Do not pretend you have any concern in this, pony,” bit Scald. He looked to Spike. “You have only one Lord, young one,” he said. “She gave a command. We are to leave and never return. Never to speak to their kind again.”

Spike’s blood froze and he looked from Scald to Celestia, who in turn looked to the dragon before her. Celestia, who spoke in a low voice. “Spike... you do not have to do anything she says.”

Spike gulped. Somehow... though he wasn’t sure how... he had messed this up completely. He stood, rooted to the spot, fear beginning to grip him even as Princesses and giant beasts towered over him, apparently ready to delve headlong into a conflict that would surely never have arisen had he just... stayed home.

But he was here now. And even as fear threatened to paralyse him, willing him to remain meek, silent and confined to the background where he could do no further harm, he heard the call of duty. Faint, but there. He needed to act. And there was only one way he thought he could do any good.

“Princess?” said Spike. “I... I’m staying.”

Which, practised composure or no, clearly threw Celestia completely. She blinked, her visage one of surprise, and she looked in shock at him. “Spike... please, no. Equestria is your home, and it will protect you.”

“But it can’t. It’s... it’s really okay,” he said with resolve. “I want to stay.” He felt such guilt, as though he were committing a betrayal. And yet if he returned to Canterlot, there would be nothing more he could do. He doubted he’d be able to change Celestia’s mind about Ember, especially after this, and he couldn’t let this lie as it was now. Not when he knew there had to be a better way.

“What more do you need to hear, pony?” asked Scald with a sneer. “Leave now... while Lord Ember allows it.”

Celestia was dumbstruck for a moment, but finally dipped her head and spoke. “If you are certain that is your decision, Spike, then... so be it.” She straightened and nodded a brave, understanding nod through lingering disappointment. Then she turned, head-high and walked regally back to her chariot. Moments later her whole entourage broke into a run across the plateau and took to the air as the Princess of Equestria departed the mountaintop.

Scald gave a soft ‘harrumph,’ turned and lay down, settling himself once more at the edge of the plateau, one long forelimb draped over the sheer drop and watching Celestia’s procession as it descended toward the city. “Such insolence,” he muttered.

Spike stood in the centre of the plateau, stranded and alone. He shook his head, looking at the floor. Not the best first meeting, then. Still, can only get better, right?

* * *

When Celestia strode into the throne room it was with an outwardly triumphant air. A projection of buoyant confidence mirrored in the uplifted spirits of her sizeable entourage, and yet even as Luna met her gaze, she could see it was a false thing. Her sister’s amethyst eyes betrayed a sense of unease that only her sibling detected, and before there could be any celebrating or even explanation, she raised her head to address the assembly.

“I will speak to my sister alone,” Luna directed. New looks of confusion adorned every pony in the room – including Celestia herself, who seemed surprised that her true mood had been so easily unveiled, even by her own flesh and blood.

The room cleared quickly for the second time that day, and as the door finally shut behind the last Guard, Luna looked to Celestia, her sister’s features already less guarded than a moment ago. “Tell me,” she said.

There was a slight but certain pause, then Celestia spoke. “There is little to tell,” she admitted. “I spoke to them and their leader. They say they came to Equestria seeking some manner of treasure. Our greatest, apparently. That they would have us ‘share’ it with them.”

Luna’s eyes widened with incredulity. “What do they imagine we have? Enough gold and jewels to satisfy all of their appetites?”

“No. Something more specific. Something they claim will make them more powerful. ‘Unlock their potential’ was the phrase she used. A talisman? An artifact? She never said. Toward the end I even began to wonder whether she might have meant something less... tangible...” she trailed off, and there was that subtle look of disquiet once more before she unsuccessfully tried to force it away. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter now. They have agreed to leave us alone. They say they will depart soon. And never return.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed in thought, her sister’s discomfort still apparent. “You believe they have sold you a falsehood? That they intend to attack and take their imagined prize?”

“No,” said Celestia, though her voice did not carry its usual full confidence, her head hanging a little. “The Dragon Lord appeared... sincere.”

“Then... this is good news, is it not? The desired result? Our city and our friends are safe?” pressed Luna.

There was a long, silent pause, drawn for an interminable moment.

“What is wrong, sister?”

Another pause. Then, “I should have listened to you,” said in a whisper. Celestia finally shook her head, and hung it. “I keep replaying it over and over in my head, Luna. In hindsight everything feels... wrong, somehow. That this is the wrong result, and it is because of me.”

“How so?”

Celestia managed to raise her head again, to meet her sister’s eyes before her head hung once more. “I thought a dialogue with the dragons would be like trying to hew a block of marble. I went in with hammer and chisel, intending to bludgeon it into the shape I wanted with brute force.” She lowered her head again and shook it. “What if I was wrong? What if it only looked like marble, but was actually clay? Something that with more care I could have taken and moulded gently into something beautiful. But no. I was blindly convinced by my own argument: the necessity to present a strong presence, deliver a firm response, and I hammered away. The clay became an ugly, deformed mess, set quickly, and with the final blow... I shattered it.” She sighed and shook her head. “The Dragon Lord was everything I expected. Forthright, commanding, combative, but... there were points when I felt a... ‘falseness.’ Once or twice, fleeting instances when I thought I could see beyond her performance and for an instant glimpsed... something behind.”

“Something?”

Again, she managed to meet her sister’s gaze, though her voice took on a plaintive, apologetic tone. “The olive branch,” she admitted. “I was tempted to reach for it, Luna. But it was too far away. I would have had to leap for it – grasp it with both hooves and trust it would take the weight of all Equestria and... I couldn’t do it. If it was a ruse? Tempting me to show weakness? One, thin olive branch, half-seen above a forest of thorns, ready to snap and send us plummeting into the sharp thicket waiting to tear us apart? It was an act of faith I could not muster. And now...?” A weak, wan smile came to her and a sickly chuckle rose from her throat. “And now I am mixing my metaphors. Clay and branches...” she sighed. “And all this after crowing about my diplomatic nous. I feel a fool.”

Luna nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds as though you have simply taken the prudent course, sister. And with some success. After all, the city is not on fire, is it?”

“But had I been more attentive, less rigid... what might have been torments me.” Celestia sighed again.

Luna stepped closer to her sister, bending her neck and pressing her forehead to her sister’s, the bases of their horns resting side-by-side. A tender, conciliatory moment between two cherished siblings.

Finally Luna straightened. “It might have been. It also might never have been. I know you will not listen but do not castigate yourself too severely, Tia. Our response had to be firm and you took the only course available based on the information we had at hoof. And if what you say is right, then because of you Canterlot and its ponies are safe and we have no more cause to fear the dragons now or in the future. By any measure we would have made this morning, this is a success.”

“Yet it does not feel like a victory.”

“It is what it is,” said Luna. “We should not dwell or wallow in ‘what might have been.’ Nor should we act with complacency. If it is fair to say that we have not left a wholly positive impression, then until the danger is past and the dragons have departed, I believe it would be premature to stand our defences down.”

“There’s more.” Celestia’s head drooped even further. “Spike was there. I don’t know how, but he was. He chose to remain with the dragons.”

“Spike? You believe he is being coerced by them? That he is there against his will?”

“Coerced? By circumstance, perhaps, but I believe it was his choice to remain. I... I fear my behaviour – toward someone he believes is his friend – may have been a factor. I don’t know if he is coming home, Luna.”

Luna thought on this for a long moment, then answered. “Let us place a little more faith in him. If he chose to remain, let us assume he had reason to. Perhaps there is yet a chance for a brighter outcome.”

* * *

“Ember?” called Spike, his voice echoing from the cold, dry walls of the cave. Inside, the cave was roughly twenty feet high, though the ceiling was festooned with long, thick and sturdy-looking stalactites, and so it appeared more cramped.

Ember was standing near the back wall of the cave, back hunched, head low, fists still clenched hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Seething. She seemed not to have heard him, and so he approached carefully, and when he drew near, spoke more softly. “Ember?”

She gave a slight jerk – a surprised little flinch – and stared back at him with one eye. “What are you still doing here? Go back home to your friends, why don’t you? You’re the only dragon who ever will.”

“I’m staying,” said Spike, managing to fall into his usual affable smile and tone. “I said you weren’t on your own in this, and I meant it.” He almost risked reaching up to put a claw on her shoulder, then thought better of it. And not only because she was still that much taller than he was. “I’m here for you until we can get this figured out.”

“Figured out?!” spat Ember, whirling around to face him. “There’s nothing to figure out, Spike! It’s pretty clear that ponies don’t want anything to do with dragons. They don’t want to help us and they sure as sulphur don’t want to be... friends!”

“I’m not gonna pretend that didn’t go... badly,” admitted Spike. “But it’s a classic case of getting off on the wrong hoof, that’s all.”

“The wrong hoof?!” She snapped. “The ponies were supposed to come and be all nicey-nice, cheerful and full of love and rainbows. This was supposed to be easy! But instead Pony Princess Weird Hair decides she wants to bite my head off for absolutely no reason? Dragons have never needed permission to cross Equestria, and all we’ve done is sit here quietly and wait until they were ready to talk to us... and for that she calls me aggressive? What hoof should I have tried instead, Spike?!” She took a steady, calming breath and relaxed her fists a little.

“Well... I don’t think Scald helped,” said Spike carefully.

“Scald’s a jerk, but he’s also a dragon. If dragons and ponies are going to get along, he’s part of that deal.”

“But I don’t think he’s that interested in getting along with ponies. Or anyone for that matter...”

“That’s because he doesn’t know any better. Neither does any dragon. Neither did I! That’s why we’re here, Spike!” She took a breath. “At least I thought that’s why we were here. I mean, I wanted my dragons to see Equestria’s most powerful ponies working together, and see the advantages that brings! That was half the point! And then she comes alone? How do I work with that?!”

“You can’t just arrive here with no warning and expect all of the Princesses of Equestria to roll out the red carpet for you.”

“Scald told me I could.”

“Scald is wrong about a lot of things,” bit Spike.

“Yeah? Maybe I was wrong. What if ponies are all jerks too? Is what I saw with you and your friends... a one-of-a-kind thing that doesn’t exist anywhere else?”

“No, of course not. Ponies are friendly, and they want to be friends too!”

“What happened outside just now says otherwise,” grouched Ember.

“Because they’re terrified of you, Ember!” cried Spike, and there was a moment of instant, echoing silence before Spike continued in a more measured tone. “They don’t know you like I do. They’re afraid that at any moment you could snap your fingers and a hundred dragons will raze Equestria to the ground just because you feel like it. It’s scary for them and your introduction didn’t exactly scream, ‘hi, we’re here to make friends and definitely not destroy you.’ That’s... sort of what they needed to hear.”

Ember huffed and folded her arms. “I’m not gonna beg friendship from a pony Princess, Spike.”

“I get that. I know you can’t say it like that in front of all those big, respected dragons out there... but I told you how the ponies were feeling about you showing up out of nowhere. I’m just saying maybe you should have put a little more thought into how you were going to get your message across to the most powerful pony in Equestria before you met her face to face?”

It seemed that touched a nerve and Ember’s temper flashed red. “You’re trying to tell me this is my fault?!” she seethed. In an instant her arms were raised, claws out, reaching for Spike, stopping only a few inches from his neck as her self-control kicked in. Her voice became a furious growl. “If you were any other dragon...!”

“But I’m not any other dragon,” said Spike, outwardly unfazed. He slowly raised his own arms, placed his claws upon Ember’s and guided them gently back down to her sides. “I’m your friend. And sometimes... friends have to tell friends things they don’t want to hear. It’s not all your fault. But it’s not all the ponies’ fault either.”

There was a long pause, Ember’s breathing coming deep and smooth as she reined her temper in. “It doesn’t matter now,” she said at last, bluntly. “Everything I wanted for us – earning respect, building cities, whatever... it all hinged on them showing us how that’s done. And they don’t want to. And... I don’t know how to do it on my own. Don’t even know where I’d start...” she seethed, teeth clenched in frustration.

“Really? It sounds more like you’re making excuses to give up.”

“I’m telling you, it’s over.”

“No it’s not. Because if there’s something I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t give up on friendship just because you get knocked down once.”

“There isn’t going to be friendship, Spike. Didn’t you hear? We’re not welcome here. Prissy Princess saw to that.”

Spike looked at her seriously. “Ember... I know Princess Celestia. I’ve known her all my life. Believe me, if there’s a way that this ends with ponies and dragons becoming friends, she wants it. Your dream doesn’t have to end here. We can fix this, together. I promise. We just need to talk to her again, okay? Maybe without Scald and your other dragons around, at least at first. Just so we can all be honest with each other.”

Ember stared at him for a moment. She was obviously reluctant to believe him, but at the same time it was clear she wanted to, and he had been so absolutely certain that there was something to be salvaged here. Then, at length, she sighed. “It’s not gonna happen though, is it? I mean I somehow doubt she’s going to come back up here for another cosy chat.”

“Well, no, that’s probably true...” said Spike, deliberately leaving the sentence hanging.

Which caught Ember’s attention and she quirked an unamused eyebrow. “Just what are you suggesting?”

Back Channels

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” complained Ember, her voice a mere whisper.

The sun had set an hour ago and night had settled into the sky above Canterlot. Two shapes scurried in the dark, breaking cover for but a moment before darting into another narrow back-alley, skulking closer to their destination.

“I’m telling you, we just have to talk to the Princess,” said Spike. “Maybe both of them this time. We’ll work this out. I know it.” Spike led her onwards through the back-alleys he knew well, creeping closer toward the palace.

“And why, exactly, are we sneaking? I thought this was your home turf?”

“Because the Guard are on edge as it is, and if they see two dragons suddenly roaming the city trying to reach the palace they’re probably gonna get the wrong idea about why. Trust me, we gotta get to the Princesses themselves. It looks way better if we can reach them on our own than if the Guard bring us to them under arrest.”

They skittered across a narrow street into yet another alleyway that turned two or three times along its length, negotiating the backs of the various buildings. Safe in the backstreets, Spike spoke up again. “Y’know, I get why you couldn’t just say to Celestia that you’ve come in order to learn how to be friends in front of Scald and Pyre and those other dragons. But for your plan to work, eventually they’re gonna need to be convinced working together and helping each other is a good idea for themselves, right? You must have had a plan for that part. Just how were you planning on selling this to them?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“By proving it’ll make us stronger. Same way you helping me in the Gauntlet made us stronger,” said Ember with a half-shrug. “That’s all it’ll take. Dragons always want more power.”

“Good luck convincing Scald that friendship is the way forward,” said Spike. “He gave me the whole, ‘dragons are already superior,’ speech. I can’t see him relying on anyone else for anything.”

“Well, he’s right,” said Ember. “But you don’t need to rely on others to work together with them. The strong can just get stronger.” She paused. “Right?”

“Uh... I guess it’s complicated? I mean... if you rely on others and they rely on you, you build trust with them. The stronger the trust, the better you work together. If there’s no trust... working together doesn’t really work.”

Ember paused for a moment, deep in thought. “This really isn’t going to work,” she said. “This whole idea sounds more and more like a mistake the longer we’re here. I dunno what I was even thinking. I mean, dragons and ponies? It even sounds ridiculous. What if we’re just too different? What if it’s not even possible.”

“Look... you gotta trust me, okay? I know Princess Celestia, and Princess Luna. I know they’re kind and gentle and understanding. And I know you too. I know you all and there’s absolutely no reason that you can’t be friends! Believe me, I wish I knew why we’re having to jump through all these extra hoops to get there, but we will get there.”

“Yeah? What if we get there and it’s not worth it?” bit Ember, a bit sulkily.

Spike stopped, turned, and looked at her with eyes that were at once serious yet full of warmth and compassion. “It is,” he said. No words more sincere were ever spoken. Then he turned back ahead, and they moved on.

As they reached the end of the back alley and crept into the next side-street, from high overhead sounds of a distant commotion beckoned their attention. They turned and looked upward, beyond the low houses to the peak of the mount where large but indistinct shadowy shapes seemed to have taken on sudden activity. Presently there was a loud, bellowing roar that was joined by at least two others before it fell silent. The movement seemed to lessen, and eventually still.

“What was that about?” asked Spike.

“Beats me,” said Ember. “Dragons can get pretty unruly when they’re around each other for too long. You’ve seen. Too many egos. Maybe they’re starting to claw or tail-wrestle or somethi—”

Ember’s voice cut off as a new sound caught her ears, causing her to turn. A soft, light clip-clopping from the end of the street.

Around the corner tottered a blank-flanked filly. A lilac-coated, bright-eyed unicorn foal with a poofy grey mane and tail absently trotting onward. In her teeth she held a piece of string, the other end affixed to a floating balloon-animal in the obvious shape of a pony. The-body-and-legs of the inflatable toy consisted of a white balloon, but other, different coloured balloons of pastel blue, green and pink had been carefully attached at head and rump with some skill to make up its mane and tail.

There was no time to duck back into the alley and no other place to hide, and when the foal deigned to look up from her vacant-minded progress and saw two scaly, spiky shapes lurking in the half-light she jumped a mile. Her jaw fell open in sudden fright as she gave a sharp gasp.

The string fell from her maw, and the balloon began to float gently away.

“Whoa... easy there. Just relax, okay? No-one’s gonna hurt you, you’re safe.” said Spike in his most soothing voice, intervening before ‘sharp gasp’ could become ‘ear-splitting scream.’

The foal blinked once and then tore her gaze from the two not-as-scary-as-they-had-been-a-moment-ago creatures to the most important thing on her mind. Her balloon, rising slowly toward the rooftops and beyond but the trailing string now far out of reach of even the most athletic of little filly jumps. “M-my Princess...” she wailed as her eyes began to glisten, her precious memento lost forever.

Ember took a quick look up at the balloon, and a slightly longer look at the filly on the verge of tears. She rolled her eyes and spread her wings.

With a deft leap she was airborne, climbing and seizing the trailing string with simple ease before it could clear the eaves of the closest building. The wayward balloon in tow, she landed gently and offered it to its former owner. “Uh... here.”

The surprised filly broke into a beaming grin, utterly stunned as her balloon was presented. She took the string and eagerly coiled it – several times for safety – around a foreleg. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” Her relieved smile was just too cute.

Ember regarded the balloon and the familiar pattern of white-body and pastel colours. “This your princess?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm,” nodded the filly with a shy smile. “The balloon-maker said I could have any Princess I wanted, so I asked for Princess Celestia because she’s my favourite. I’ve seen her four times!” she beamed. “I can name all the Princesses.” And then, without any invitation or expression of interest, she proceeded to do just that. “There’s Princess Celestia – she’s the kind and gentle one; there’s Princess Luna – she’s the tough one! There’s Princess Cadance, except her real name is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza” – she whispered in a manner conspiratorial – “She’s the pretty one. And Princess Flurry Heart – she’s the baby one. She’s soooo cute!”

“What about Princess Twilight?” asked Spike.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” corrected the filly, lecturing tone and all. Then her wide, enthusiastic grin was back. “She’s the book one!”

Ouch, Twilight, thought Spike. Not even ‘the smart one.’ Nope. ‘The book one.’

Ember turned and gave him a quizzical look. “You sure have a lot of princesses. How many do you need?”

“Let’s not go there,” said Spike.

A new, distant voice called out from beyond the end of the street. “Lavender? Lavender?! Where did you run off to?”

“I’m over here, mom!” called the filly over her shoulder. “I’m just talking to my new friends!”

“Lavender Charm! What have I told you about always trotting off?! Come on, we have to get back home before the curfew. Quick...ly... now...”

The mare’s voice trailed off as her eyes seemed to adjust to the comparative gloom of the side-street, drawn to Spike and Ember.

“Dragons...!” she croaked, a scream for help stuck in her throat. “Uh... C-come here now Lavender, precious. Stay behind me. We need to go. Now.”

“But moooom! I’m making friends!” protested the filly with a perfect, annoyed pout. “You’re always telling me I should try and make a friend and now I’ve got two! And they’re really nice! They got my princess back for me, look!”

But the filly’s objections fell on deaf ears as the tiny, cheerful pony was quickly gathered and ushered away by her matriarch, who never lost that look of terror nor allowed her gaze to leave the two scaled interlopers in the darkened street.

“Byeeee!” called the foal at the last as she was hurried to the corner and out of sight.

A moment of silence passed.

“I told you, it’s not going to work,” said Ember as Spike quickly ducked into the next back-alley and they continued their progress. “Ponies hate dragons. They don’t want anything to do with us.”

“You realise you’re talking to living proof that you’re wrong.”

“They don’t hate you,” said Ember. “You’re different.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean you were raised by ponies. You’re practically one yourself.”

“The only difference is that they know me. Once they get to know you and your dragons too, they’ll warm up. Well, Scald might be a tough sell, but trust me, ponies can get along with anyone.”

As they neared the end of the next alley, suddenly Spike stopped dead, Ember freezing in her tracks right behind him. A noise – faint but growing – snagged his attention. Before he could even pinpoint the direction it was upon them as three blue-suited and goggled pegasi screamed overhead, their sheer speed shredding the surrounding air with a cacophonous roar, making a beeline straight for the palace and leaving only thick, smoky contrails in their wake. Only when the noise had died completely and the smoke dispersed did Spike carefully start moving again. What’s got them in such a hurry?

“What if ponies aren’t the problem? What if it’s us? Dragons aren’t exactly going to be all cuddly and friendly like ponies want,” said Ember.

Spike stopped again, turned and regarded her. “You didn’t have to get that balloon back for that filly, did you? It was just a balloon. It’s nothing to you. You weren’t going to get anything out of it... but you were the only one there who could help, so you did it anyway.”

“Yeah? So? She was about to start bawling. She might have given us away,” Ember pouted, folding her forearms and deliberately looking to the side.

“You did something nice for someone else,” pressed Spike. “And how did it feel? When you gave it back to her and she went from about to cry to smiling at you like that? How did it feel when she said she was making you her friend?”

Ember didn’t move. Didn’t unfold her arms. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from making contact with Spike’s, and in that moment, he saw it.

“Don’t tell me that dragons and ponies can’t be nice to each other. I know better,” he said with a little smug grin. He turned again, and carried on. A moment later, Ember followed.

A few twists and turns later and the end of the new alley brought them to a cross-street leading to a wide courtyard away to their right. Another alleyway lay across the street but twenty meters up the paved road. The coast was clear and they moved quickly, keeping to the shadows as their path took them dangerously close to the brightly-lit plaza. But as they neared the entrance to the next back-street, they heard a rumble from ahead. Then the stamping of many marching hooves beneath a rising cacophony of shouts. Loud and militaristic.

“Come on you laggards! Get that thing in position! This is an emergency. Princess Luna needs everyone on-station five minutes ago!”

Ember’s attention was noticeably caught and she edged a little closer to get a better view. The rumbling grew louder until, trundling through the courtyard ahead of them and framed by the walls of the buildings on either side, moved a giant construction of huge wooden beams lashed together with thick rope and supported by four great cart-wheels.

“What is that thing?” she whispered.

“Th... that’s a catapult,” answered Spike, a silent gulp in his throat.

Ember turned back to look at the rear of the enormous piece of artillery as it rumbled past and out of view. From the end of the street, further voices came accompanied by the soft metallic chuntering of plate armour as Guards began filing past.

“... supposed to load these things with anyway? I mean they eat rocks, and aren’t they immune to fire?”

“Dunno. I heard we’re getting some new kind of ammunition.”

“New kind?”

“Yeah. Rumour is some professor came up with something. Like a giant smoke-bomb. Supposed to make ‘em cough or sneeze or choke or throw up or somethin’.”

Ember lowered her head and looked to the floor, her fists balled tight. “We do nothing to them, and they—”

Suddenly a new voice from near the end of the road caught his attention. A slightly more familiar one:

“Guards! Oh, thank goodness I’ve found you! My precious daughter Lavender just ran into two frightful dragons in a dark alley! They were questioning her about the Princesses! They tried to snatch her away!”

“Mooooom! That’s not true!”

“Hush now, darling. You’re safe now. The Guards will take care of everything, won’t you?”

“We’ll find them, Ma’am,” said a deep voice, curt and professional.

“Oh boy,” whispered Spike.

“Guards?! Fan out and search every street and alley in this quarter! If there are dragons around I want them found! Runner? Alert Princess Luna and double the guard at the palace! If they’re after the Princesses, we can’t let them reach them!”

“YESSIR!”

Gulp.

“Ember! Quick! In here!” Spike hissed, ducking into the next alley, safe in the shadows. Ember followed, darting in before two gold-glad guards rounded entered the street from the courtyard. They scurried away down the narrow, winding passage, twisting and turning, leaving the sounds of clanking armour and running hooves behind.

After a few new corners had been turned, they reached the end of the next alley and found themselves not quite where Spike expected them to be.

They were at the edge of the city. Their alleyway ended in wide, marble-flagstoned, curved terrace that was also met by other more prominent roads leading elsewhere into Canterlot, and enclosed by an ornate stone balcony rail giving way to a sheer drop, and magnificent southward views out over the moonlit valley below and beyond unto the horizon. Alas, the palace toward which they were supposedly heading stood about a hundred degrees to their right, and some distance away yet.

“I thought you said you knew where you were going!” snapped Ember.

“Shh!” said Spike. “I do. Mostly. I just need to get my bearings. Probably shoulda made that left turn on Albuquerque...” he said, tottering up to the railing and looking over. The view was too good to resist.

After a moment, Ember joined him.

“It really is beautiful,” she said. “I mean, you have lakes and forests and waterfalls and birds. In the Dragon Lands it’s just... rock and desert. Far as you can see.” Suddenly Ember squinted, her attention caught by something else out there on the plain. There, further to the west and about three leagues distant, a large collection of pin-pricked lights, almost like fireflies, was seemingly gathered and convalesced. And it was moving, flickering ever-so-slowly. Ember scowled again. “Torches,” she growled. “That’s an army out there, headed this way. That’s for us, right?” It seemed like she didn’t know whether to be angry, frustrated, or disappointed. “Should I be taking the hint here or what?” Eventually she hung her head. “You know, Twilight met me, and isn’t she your Princess of Making Friends? I can’t help but feel this would be going much easier if she were here. Why isn’t she?” she asked, with just the barest hint of accusation.

“She’d want to be, if she could,” Spike insisted. “But she’s got her hooves full hosting a really important friendship summit in Ponyville. The yaks and the buffalo are two very proud tribes and they’re meeting for the first time ever. She’s been planning it for months, and she’s gotta make sure everything goes smoothly. It’s just bad luck that you arrived this week when she’s got a lot on her plate.”

All of a sudden Ember was looking at Spike with a vexed glare. “Oh. I see,” she said, her voice ice-cold.

“What?” asked Spike. “Ember, what’s wrong?”

Her scowl persisted for a moment too long before she was back looking out over the valley in the direction of Ponyville, the star-shaped spire atop Twilight’s castle a distant but conspicuous landmark that found itself the subject her her gaze. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Ember... you can’t be mad at Twilight; she’s got responsibilities, and you didn’t exactly give her time to clear her schedule.”

He got a sharp glance at that. “That isn’t why I’m mad, Spike,” she seethed through gritted teeth. “I know yaks. Yaks are loud, arrogant, destructive, proud, and warlike... and even they get a pony friendship summit.” She turned and snorted. “Let’s just go. Which way? Or are you still lost?”

“Uh... this way,” said Spike after a moment, leading them both towards the depths of another back-alley. At least this one seemed to head in the right direction.

More minutes of skulking passed in silence. Before long, their path took them through a very narrow alleyway – no more than three feet wide – that ran behind the Canterlot train station. The hiss and commotion of a train departing masked any noise they might have made, and left behind only more formal, clipped voices.

“Sir? I gather we’re to report to you?”

“Correct, Sergeant Major. Which detachment is this?”

“Crystal Empire 2nd Legion; Golf and Hotel companies reporting. Forgive me, Sir, not sure how much you can say... but the rumour is we might be seeing action?”

“Could be sooner than you think. Things have escalated. Get your companies to their barracks quickly. Hotel company will be quartered in the hotel at the end of the street. Golf company – they’re in the clubhouse at the... golf... course.” A brief, nervous pause. “I swear we didn’t plan it like that.”

“Understood, sir. And then?”

“Report to Post Commander Stalwart.” Another pause and then, more seriously: “Have your weapons ready.”

Spike couldn’t help but stifle another gulp. Instinctively he looked over his shoulder at Ember, and found her staring at him with an unamused, level, and very pointed expression. It was all he could do to give a light, embarrassed chuckle and press on.

Finally, after more twist and turns and alleyways and side-streets than he cared to recount, they reached the palace. The end of their final back-alley opened out onto the vast green lawn before the main palace entrance, and as luck would have it, in the very centre of the lawn, stood the Princess of the Night herself. Of course, as luck wouldn’t have it, she was surrounded by an entourage of no fewer than two dozen Guards. Even as Spike and Ember crept to the edge of their shadowed alley and observed, four more Guards trotted up.

One of them bowed before her, and saluted her with a formal, “Your Majesty!” It looked like he was giving some kind of urgent report, though the first few words beyond the greeting were lost beneath a medley of clinking armour plates and hastily-shouldered spears.

“That’s Princess Luna,” said Spike to Ember in a hushed whisper.

Ember folded her arms. “I’d kinda figured. The crown? The bowing? The ‘your majesty’?”

“If we can just talk to her without all these guards around, we can sort everything out.”

And as Spike and Ember strained to hear from their hiding place tucked into the end of the alley and cloaked in shadow, the sound of the Guard’s report finally carried to them across the open space.

“...a report from a civilian that two dragons have infiltrated the city, intent on assassinating yourself and Princess Celestia. The witness told us they pounced on her daughter and tried to snatch her away.”

Ember gave a quiet scoff. “We’re assassins and kidnappers now.” An angry snort. “Of course we are.”

Standing proud thirty meters away, Luna’s face was a grave masque as she appeared to consider the Guard’s update at length. Though, for a moment her attention appeared elsewhere as she looked up, outward into the city and seemed to stare into the middle distance, ears pricked but lost in thought. Then her frown was back with the bowing pony and, with a slight nod, she bade him straighten back to attention.

Spike looked on. Two dozen Guards between them and Luna. Two dozen armed and armoured soldiers who weren’t going to let two would-be dragon assassins within two miles of any Princess if they had any say in it – even if he was Spike the Brave and Glorious. They would never take the risk. Not now. Two dozen Guards here and hundreds – maybe it was thousands by now? – elsewhere in the city, frantically searching for them. It would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. This had to be now. They wouldn’t get a better chance. He turned to Ember.

“Stay here,” he whispered heavily, though he managed to lift a weary smile onto his lips. “Good luck.” A moment later he was skittering back down the alleyway to the end. He turned a corner, and was gone, leaving Ember dumbstruck.

Where are you going?! she screamed inside her head, though she dared not give voice to her frustrations. Biting her tongue, she turned back to the scene before her. How had it come to this? Hiding in a dark corner in a strange city, hunted by guards who might as well be enemies, all for the chance to... ugh... talk. At what point had she decided that this was worth it?

A moment later there arose a noise, coming from a few streets over to her right. A low, gutteral, and actually sort-of-pathetic attempt at a roar. But to accompany it there was a flash of green light. Then a new fire burned, as though a sconce or brazier had suddenly taken aflame and just for an instant, silhouetted large-ish against the wall of a house at the end of one of the roads leading off the plaza, loomed a slightly-tubby draconic shape. Though one with surprisingly sharp teeth and claws, Ember noted, raising an impressed eyebrow.

The reaction of the Guards was instant. There were assorted, startled cries of, “Over there!”, “After it!”, and “Let’s go!” before the vast majority began galloping toward the street, the sounds of small claws skittering desperately on stone lost in the cacophony.

All but six of the Guards had taken to the chase, the remainder now clustered around Luna in an arc facing outward and spears hefted as though ready to take on a threat that might come from any direction. And of this Luna seemed to disapprove, glowering reproachfully at the backs of their heads.

“I will require all of my Guards to join the search, Sergeant,” she said with a brusque, annoyed air.

The Sergeant turned. “Forgive me, your highness... but with such a threat abroad in the city, our first duty is to protect you.”

“Your duty is to follow my orders.” Luna’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you imagine that I am incapable of protecting myself?”

The Sergeant gulped. “Well... uh... it’s just that... purely based on past experiences, you, uh... and your sister... uh... have a habit of...”

Luna’s eyes narrowed to slits, her face as thunder. “Join... the search... now,” she growled.

In spite of herself, Ember felt herself nodding along from her hiding place in the alleyway. ‘The tough one’ indeed.

“I... uh... yes. Yes, Princess,” stammered the Sergeant, and then with no small measure of reluctance they were galloping toward the street, thoroughly chastised and surely too late to be of any real use in the hunt for Spike.

In the centre of the lawn, Luna stood and hung her head as though a parent recovering from dealing with a wearisome child. When she raised it again she was once more the picture of authority, regal, serene and commanding. When she took a breath and spoke her voice still held that authoritative edge, but at the same time it was lighter, softer and more open. Somehow more... honest than the tone she had used to berate her soldiers.

“The night is my domain, and this city is my home. I can place every detail of these peaceful, starlit streets,” she said in seeming soliloquy. “When one knows something as intimately as I know the dusk, it is... jarring... to notice things even slightly amiss. To hear foreign sounds in the darkness. Glimpse slivers of shadows where none should be. Even to feel the subtle changes in the breeze as it flows around objects that I know should not be there.” By the time she was done talking, Luna was looking right at her! There was no way she could see her – she was in pitch-black shadow. A wraith against the building... but she was looking at her all the same! “Step forward, Lord Ember. Do not be afraid.”

For a moment she was frozen until she took a breath. Staying still would do her no good, and well... might as well get this over with.

Ember stepped from the shadowed alley into the open, teeth and fists clenched and wearing a low, angry scowl, her temper returning and bubbling like a cauldron. All things considered she was keeping a pretty good lid on it, she thought. She stopped ten paces from Luna and drew herself up, meeting the Princess’s gaze equally.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she corrected.

Luna studied her for a moment, then dipped her head in a nod. “No. I suppose you are not,” she conceded.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“I’m not here to assassinate you either,” said Ember, folding her arms and adopting an indignant stance.

“No,” agreed Luna, with a slight head-shake. “Destroying me here, tonight, would not advance your goal.“ There was a directness to her voice and an air of... disappointment? Sadness? “I admit that I had hoped... given my sister’s reflections on your earlier meeting, that we might yet meet under better circumstances. Alas, in the last hour your motivations have become far clearer, and it seems that hope was in vain.” She paused and gave a disappointed, nasal sigh. “I know why you’ve come.”

“I doubt that,” scoffed Ember looking askance at the pony princess. “Right now I’m not even sure why I’m here. Everything I’ve seen here – last hour or not – tells me I’m wasting my time even trying to talk to you.”

Luna gave a subtle, reluctant dip of her head, then raised it high to speak with professional authority. “Ember, Lord of the Dragons, I am Luna, Princess of the Night in Equestria and the realms beyond. I have the authority to speak for my nation and its ponies, and if anyone can grant you what you seek, it is I. Issue your demands and I vow to you that – if they are possible to grant – they will be reasonably considered.”

Ember blinked, her folded arms coming half-undone in surprise. A suspicious frown crept to her brow. “My ‘demands’?” Her voice held a faint growl.

Luna’s expression became confused for a moment. “You spoke to my sister of a treasure in our possession, did you not? Some artifact you have come to claim?” Her regal air reformed and she spoke professionally once again. “Equestria is prepared – on the understanding it will be for this single occasion – to negotiate. It is not a choice I have taken lightly, but I have decided that this is a preferable alternative to being forced into action to protect my citizens. If you will but name your terms, and if they are not insurmountable or catastrophically dangerous to grant, then you have my word we will do our best to meet them in good faith. Our only condition is that you return my subject unharmed, and then leave in peace.”

Ember remained turned to the side, her arms falling fully now, balling into fists at her sides. She looked fixedly at a spot on the grass not far in front of her and tried to stop the fury and fire rising in the back of her throat. “I see. You want to give me what I want so I’ll leave,” she seethed. Ember turned her head to fix a furied glower upon Luna. “That’s all you ponies want. Us. Gone.” For an instant her rage threatened to boil over and explode, her knuckles turning white and her fists shaking with fury. Then, after a moment, it passed. A cool river partially quenching the fiery, molten anger, washing some of it away with the current of acceptance; a poor consolation it was that, “I was right,” she muttered. Her fierce glower found Luna again. “This was a waste of time.”

“You... will not even consider a negotiation?” asked Luna, a hint of confusion to her.

“What is there to negotiate?” said Ember. “I’m going to give you everything you want. And you know what?” Her stare became as cold as ice, piercing as a needle. “...I don’t want anything from you,” she spat, the word ‘you’ hurled as an insult and dripping with scorn. “And they say dragons aren’t generous.”

Ember whirled, turning her back and beginning to stomp away across the grass.

“Our citizen?” called Luna from behind her. “You will return them?”

Ember’s anger flashed anew and she spun to face Luna, head low. “Let’s get one thing straight, prissy-Princess! Spike? He’s a dragon. He’s my citizen, not yours, and what’s more, he came to me! I didn’t ‘take’ him; I don’t ‘have’ him, so if you think I’m ‘returning’ him to you, think again! If he decides to leave with us, that’s his business.”

Luna’s brow creased in confusion. “I was referring to—” but the last of her sentence was lost in cacophony. The Guards had returned, with Spike in tow sitting astride one of their number, but as soon as they saw Luna in discourse with Ember, the cries went up.

“Another, there!”

“You! Halt!”

“Princess Luna is under attack!”

“To the Princess! Rally, you mules, rally!”

The twenty or so Guards galloped and charged, closing the distance with frightening speed. When they arrived they encircled Ember, drawing swords and hefting spears. “Don’t move!” cried one. “Surrender!” was heard from another.

Ember simply turned a full circle to examine the ring of (soon-to-be-very-molten) steel with a critical eye, then fixed her annoyed gaze once more on Luna. She said nothing. Didn’t need to. The pony guards had made her point for her.

“Whoa there, easy fellas,” chirped Spike, hopping down from one stallion-guard’s back, where he was prodded and ushered into the centre of the circle of swords to stand beside Ember under the wary gaze of the guardsponies. He was clearly under suspicion, if not entirely under arrest, but his composure was one of brash-but-likeable confidence. He even found the chutzpah to place a clawtip on the point of the closest sword and push it a few inches lower. “Relax, will ya? It’s all okay!” he spouted with mindless, cheery optimism. “Princess Ember and Princess Luna are making peace!”

There was an awkward silence. One that lasted long enough for Spike’s smile to falter. He finally turned and regarded Ember, glowering at Luna, her face a mask of barely contained rage. And Luna, her countenance stoic, firm and tirelessly authoritative.

“Aren’t you?” said Spike, the pit falling out of his stomach.

“I’m leaving,” said Ember brusquely, then fixed him with a look. “Are you coming? Or staying here?”

“I... wait... what?” said Spike, gaze darting frantically between Ember and Luna. “What happened?!” he cried.

“Coming or staying?!” demanded Ember.

“I... coming... I guess?” said Spike, utterly confused. How had such a simple plan gone so awry?

Ember turned, Spike catching onto her shoulders and finding a comfortable place on her back to straddle. Even as one of the Guards demanded, “Don’t move!” Ember spread her wings wide.

Spike couldn’t avoid looking at Luna, and even as her disappointed expression tore his heart, she called out a single, plaintive word. “Spike...?” It sent a searing, stabbing pang through his stomach. As before, when he had chosen to stay with Ember over Princess Celestia. He felt somehow treacherous. No matter how long he’d known them, the Princess’ goodwill towards him must have been wearing thin by now.

Then with a powerful downward stroke from Ember’s wings, they were airborne, rushing upwards into the night sky over Canterlot.

“They’re getting away! Archers!” called the Sergeant, his cohorts unshouldering bows and withdrawing arrows.

“Belay!” barked Luna in panic as Ember climbed ever higher, sailing toward the mountain peak. The Guards’ looks of confusion were not her concern, and bowstrings remained mercifully undrawn. She kept her eyes on Ember until she was well out of range of even the Guard’s strongest marksponies, then drew a calming, relieved breath and looked down at the Sergeant. “We are not there yet.”

Luna turned and began making toward the palace, then halted mid-stride. She turned her head to regard one of her entourage. “There was talk of a witness? Who said her daughter had been nearly abducted by the dragons?”

“Yes, highness. We spoke to her: she gave a very clear account.”

Luna considered this before finally she spoke again. “What did the child say?”

“Your majesty? T-the witness—”

“—was spoken to, yes? Who spoke to her daughter? What was her account? Her demeanour? Was she trembling in fear? Were there signs of a struggle? I require answers to these questions, Sergeant. In fact, I wish to speak to her myself.” She gave a faint sigh. “If nothing else, I need an insight into how dragons intend to treat their captives.”

“Yes, your highness!” The Guard bent a foreleg and bowed again. Then he was turning and cantering back toward the city, away from the palace, with three other Guards in tow.

War... and Peace

“I’d stop you.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide, and nearly bugged out of her head. From over there, behind Scald and to the right, she frantically started drawing her hoof across her throat. Stop! Stop!

Scald looked bewildered for a moment, before his frown returned. “You? You would ‘stop’ me?”

A moment of confused silence passed quickly, and Scald let out a loud, hearty roar of a laugh. It echoed around the mountain peak far too long before he returned his scowl to the puny kobold beneath him. “You. You believe you could stop me,” he said, not a question, and his brow creased into an expression of skeptical puzzlement. “You are not even a dragon yet, kobold, and you believe you could stop me?” he growled as he towered over Spike. “Perhaps we need to revisit our lesson on the importance of strength and power.”

Spike drew himself up another inch, his eyes coals of burning, confident defiance. “Maybe you need the lesson more than me. I’m not just some kobold. After Ember? I’m the most powerful dragon alive.”

Stopstopstopstop! Rainbow’s frantic hoof gestures were a blur now, her face a masque of horror.

A wide, dangerous grin broke out on Scald’s lips. “Are you indeed? And so how would you stop me, hmm? You plan to fight me? I could crush you with my little claw.”

“I don’t need to fight you. I don’t even need to lift a claw,” said Spike, adopting an air of supreme confidence, but never letting his gaze leave Scald’s. He couldn’t blink now. Too much at stake. “I could stop you with a word.”

“A... word!”

“A word,” he said slowly, “Just one word. A word I learned a long time ago.” He produced the scroll-and-quill he always had on hand for Twilight List Emergencies. “In fact, I’ve known it since I was hatched, in one form or another.” With the quill he began to write, slowly.

“You believe a word could stop me? What is this? A spell? A kind of magic?”

“Sort of,” admitted Spike, marking the clean lines on the page, big and clear. “It’s a powerful word. It may be the most powerful word in all of existence. And I know it,” he said with a confident smile as he finished up. “It’s only four letters. You might even have heard of it.”

Scald’s frown relented a little and he adopted a dripping, sneering tone. “Hah. A simple word you claim gives you immense power? Let me guess... love!” he drawled, as though wanting to spit the word from his tongue lest it leave a bad taste. “You are a fool if you believe ‘love’ will stop me.”

“Not love. Close though,” said Spike. He finished inking and put the quill away, then turned the scroll around with a flourish. There, held up so that Scald could see, in big, unmistakeable letters...

HELP

A flash of green fire consumed the scroll. A wisp of smoke curled and darted away.

Scald looked down upon Spike. “You scribe a word so that you can burn it to ashes, and you believe this grants you strength?!” he roared. “If this is a joke, it is poor. If it is symbolism, it is flawed. Either way, you are about to be taught a valuable lesson about the true meaning of strength, kobold,” hissed Scald. He brought a foreclaw forward, placing it right in front of Spike, his index digit curled, tensed and restrained by his thumb as though ready to simply flick Spike from the mountaintop with nonchalant ease. “A flash of whim, a twitch of muscle and your entire fate is altered forever. This is strength. This is power, not some child’s game!” His voice dropped to a low growl. “I trust the lesson is clear?”

“You just wait,” said Spike, unflinching. “And you’ll see exactly how powerful I am.”

In the shadowed city far below, in the window of an opulent bedroom in a high tower, a light appeared, hastily lit.

“I’m not surprised you don’t fully get it. See... that word? It’s so much more than just a word. It’s the time I saved a friend from a giant monster wolf. It’s the time I saved an empire from disaster, twice. It’s the time I helped save this entire kingdom from being erased from history...”

In the city, more lights appeared at more windows. Sounds of commotion and hurried activity.

“It’s everything I’ve ever done to help my friends and the ponies I care about...”

More commotion. Sounds of shouting. Orders being barked.

“And it’s everything they’ll do to help me,” growled Spike.

In the silence that followed, before Scald could make reply, a bell rang out. Loud. Clear. Deep. Fast. An alarm.

Scald heard it. “What is this...?”

Before he could say more there was a blinding flash of searing light. In the air beyond the plateau a huge golden sphere seemed to appear from nothing and grew as the air it displaced seemed to sizzle and writhe, kicking up a strong gust. The sphere expanded to fill half of Scald’s vision before as quickly as it had appeared it vanished leaving enormous temporary black afterimages that danced behind his eyes. The whole sky brightened as the sun was forcibly dragged into the sky from its slumber below the horizon, and the moon about to set was hauled skyward too, blazing with a fierce pearl light.

And hovering in the air where the intense golden glow had been... an army. Hundreds and hundreds of golden pegasi-drawn chariots half-surrounding the mountain peak in a perfect stacked formation, columns twenty ponies deep and dozens upon dozens of rows of armoured warriors and mages, plate armour gleaming and speartips razor-sharp. And at the head of the army, two Princesses. The sun and moon blazed high behind them, shining directly onto the mountain top, into the eyes of all those who might call themselves foe.

They saw Spike, pressed back against the edge of the terrifying cliff. They saw Rainbow Dash trapped in a cage of stone. They saw one, large scarlet dragon looming over both who turned to regard them with fury. They saw him very clearly indeed.

“STAND AWAY FROM HIM!” commanded Celestia, enhanced voice ringing out loud and clear.

Scald’s annoyance seemed to peak. Slowly he straightened, unfurled his wings and beat them once, twice, and was airborne. He hovered only a few meters above the face of the plateau, just high enough that he was not being looked down upon by the royal sisters, and he fumed. “Who are you to demand anything of me? Leave and go back to cowering in your city while I allow it.”

“We will not! Return our friends and begone!” yelled Luna in challenge, and such provocation Scald could not resist.

A cruel, lopsided smirk turned upon his maw, his upper lip curling to reveal a sharp fang. “Do not say I didn’t give you fair warning...” He reared his head and drew a deep, deep breath.

“Contain!” barked Celestia, her horn lighting and joined at once by that of her sister. In a flash, a transparent sphere of shimmering gold appeared around the mighty scarlet-scaled dragon, with forks of electric-blue skittering and crackling across its surface. Scald unleashed an enormous gout of violet fire that was nonetheless blocked, and roiled against the inside of his new spherical prison. He had a moment to appear stunned as the flames evaporated, and he studied the orb that enclosed and now suspended him in midair.

With a furied roar he lashed out with a long, sharp claw, expecting to pierce the fragile-looking barrier. After all, there was no thickness to it at all. But as soon as he made contact, those sparks of blue lightning flashing at random across the surface redirected and converged at the point of impact, sending a surprising, painful jolt throughout his whole body. Scald recoiled in shock, perhaps having felt actual pain for the first time in a long, long while. The sudden reversal in his fortune – the irony of it – was not lost on him and he glowered with eyes filled with rage and vengeance. “Oh, you have made a grave mistake. You cannot hold me here forever... and when I am free, my vengeance will be terrible.”

“We can hold you for as long as necessary,” stated Luna. “A thousand years if need be.”

“And doing what is necessary to protect our friends will never be a mistake,” countered Celestia, an angry frown of her own adorning her brow.

As if on cue, at that moment, Ember emerged from the cave, no doubt coming to see what all the commotion was about. If she was at all surprised to see a horde of armoured ponies bearing weapons led by the two princesses of the realm and an entrapped, enraged Scald caught within a hovering magical bubble... well it didn’t show in the least. Instead her attention slipped to Rainbow Dash’s cage and she walked over to it, casually propped herself against one of the thick, angled pillars of rock, and leaned into it with her shoulder to watch the scene before her with the disinterested expression of someone waiting for something to be over so they can carry on with their day. Dropping her voice to a casual half-whisper she asked Dash, “Why are you still here?” Then seemed to focus on Spike stood right at the cliff-edge squaring up to Scald, and her brain made a few deductions. “Ugh... he’s an idiot,” she despaired.

Scald had not seen her arrival and nor it appeared had Celestia or Luna, their collective attention on each other, and Spike still at the cliff’s edge. Spike, though, noted Ember appear and adopt her casual lean against Dash’s cage, but gave her no more attention than a brief moment of eye-contact as he looked back up at Scald.

“You still think I’m not stronger than you?” he asked. “One word, Scald. That’s all I needed. One word, and you’re at my mercy. One word and I have the strength of an entire nation behind me. You say that depending on others makes you weak? Are you not seeing this?”

Scald roared with cruel, mirthless laughter which degenerated into a growl, then into a low snarl. “Do you not yet see your folly, kobold? Perhaps an entire nation of ponies has a combined strength greater than one dragon. But you would wager a nation of ponies against a nation of dragons?!” he seethed, then his voice dropped to a low, spitting hiss. “We can burn this entire army to cinders and it will be the work of moments! We can leave this entire land a smoking, charred ruin and it shall be the work of hours!”

Spike allowed himself a little, cocksure grin. “We?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Who’s ‘we’?” asked Spike. “Guess you don’t know dragons too well, huh?” He gave a knowing little nod upwards, beyond Scald to the peak of the mountain behind him.

Scald stared down at him. “What?” Then he twisted within his prison, neck whipping round to regard the remaining dragons atop the mountain. And what anger there still was on his face was replaced by shock and surprise.

The largest of them was dozing in the newly-raised sun, another watched the scene below with an expression of only vague interest, alternating between paying attention and languidly searching the southern horizon with a neutral expression. And two of them were... were laughing! The one called Ash was even making digs at how ‘Great Scald’ had been ‘caught by puny ponies!’ to a raucous series of his own guffaws!

“How does helping a dragon weak enough to get himself captured by ponies... benefit them?” asked Spike, twisting the knife. Oh, whatever hierarchy the dragons had in terms of showing strength, Scald had most certainly been taken down several pegs. His face fell into an expression of shock and horror so satisfying to see on his usual arrogant features, as he finally seemed to come to terms with the reality of his situation. A dragon so used to ‘mastering his own destiny,’ alone and trapped, his only potential allies indifferent to his fate. Shock turned to desperation and quickly anger, and he thrashed inside the bubble, lashing out in fevered panic with claws, teeth and tail, electric bolts of lightning sizzling and snapping as they zapped him over and over again until he finally relented, the pain and fatigue becoming too much.

Scald’s eyes narrowed at Spike. “You are a fool! You believe these creatures are your allies? Your ‘friends’? That they care about you as if you were one of them?!”

“They’re here, aren’t they?”

“You believe they are here for you? You have simply given them an advantage they wish to press! They are not here for you, they are here for themselves!” cried Scald. “Did you not heed my words? You are a dragon. They do not care for you. You will grow and they will fear you! They will hate you! They will drive you away!”

“Maybe. And... if it comes to that?” said Spike with a sigh, “I’ll leave. Because I care about my friends, and I would never—”

But he was interrupted. By Celestia.

“What do you know of it?!” she yelled at Scald, one of only very few occasions Spike could recall where he heard true emotion – true anger – in her voice. “You believe we fear Spike because one day he will grow? The first time I saw him, within moments of him hatching, he had grown tall enough to put a hole in the ceiling of a castle tower! It does not matter to me – to us! – what size he may achieve: we will adapt. We will make allowances for him and I do not care how arduous a task that may one day end up being – Spike is a dragon but more than that he has always been a good friend to Equestria and to me, and I will ensure there will always be a place for him here if he wishes!”

And for the second time in as many minutes, Scald had to register surprise.

Spike used the moment to speak up, addressing Scald now in a slightly softer, less confrontational tone as he took several steps towards him. “I’m a dragon, and I do have friends who care about me. That’s what makes me strong. Stronger than you, ultimately. But here’s the thing... what if I told you you could have this too?”

“What... are you talking about?” Scald’s eyes narrowed and his brow darkened. “You have a very odd way of gloating, kobold.”

“I don’t really do gloating. No, I’m serious: what if there was some dragon out there who you could count on to come through for you, no matter what? Wouldn’t you want that right about now?”

Scald’s eyes narrowed again. “There are none. I am beholden to no-one, and there are none who owe me favours.”

“It’s not about favours. You don’t think there’s a single dragon out there who cares about what happens to you? Who’d go out of their way to be there for you, to maybe get you out of a jam like this?”

A long, uncertain, suspicious pause before...

“He’s talking about me,” answered Ember finally, pushing herself off the pillar on which she’d been leaning.

Scald’s neck snapped round and down, taken completely by surprise. “I— M-my Lo—?” he stammered.

Oh, but the look Ember gave him back. A gaze of cold fury, a stern rebuke and a silent but powerful order all rolled into one. Shut up.

With an eerie calmness, Ember strode forward toward the centre of the plateau and suddenly all noise save for the gusting wind seemed to die away. The eyes of every dragon and pony turned as one to regard her, necks shifting and heads turning, watching, waiting. By her very participation she had altered the balance of power: this was her show now. Even the Princesses could only watch and wait as Ember walked in silence, the look on her blue-scaled face somewhere between annoyed and angry.

But Ember’s gaze didn’t alight on the Princesses. Nor Scald, hovering above her. In fact it fixed firmly and unwaveringly on Spike and he felt a little bead of sweat tickle the back of his neck as he looked up at her with a newly nervous grin as she marched straight toward him. Ember strode right up and without warning jabbed him square in the chest with her index claw, sending him a step backwards off balance and hard enough to leave a residual dull pain. “You’re an idiot,” she growled.

She took a step back, raising her head and commanding the attention of every single creature on the summit as completely as if a spotlight shone on her. Her gaze travelled to Scald, suspended pathetically twenty feet in the air above her head, his face a satisfying mask of worry and confusion, and then to Celestia and Luna hovering on broad, feathered wings, horns alight. With unflinching determination she met each of their gazes, and finally spoke.

“Let him go.”

There was no anger, but there was a command. An order that was expected to be followed. And in the space of a moment the remaining dragons on the peak above shifted and rose onto their limbs, heads low, necks and tails arrow-straight with the odd fang bared. Like a pack of dogs, waiting.

It began to dawn on the Royal Sisters that they had little choice but to acquiesce. The immediate danger to Spike was past and they could not remove Scald from the mountaintop without the dragons becoming violent in consequence. And if the dragons attacked en masse both sisters would need their magic at their full disposal to give the Guard a fighting chance, not focused on containing one single dragon. Celestia drew a deep breath, shared a reluctant glance with her sister, and then the light in her horn died, followed by that of her younger sibling.

The force-field around Scald faded and he dropped several feet before he realised he needed to use his own wing-power to stay aloft. His wings extended and he beat them allowing him to land back on the plateau with only a modest amount of lost grace. Emboldened by the fact that he had an ally – and that his ally was the most powerful dragon in the world! – his face contorted into a snarl and he glanced round at Ember, eager to obey any order to leap headlong into the battle that was to come now that he was free. And so was surprised when she only glowered at him furiously in response. Don’t. That order was very clear.

The ponies in the formation all hefted shields, adopting defensive postures and scanning the peak and the plateau, eyes darting, waiting for the direction of the first assault. Every set of ears strained, waiting to hear the order to attack, however faint, that would signal the onslaught. The dragons bristled, spines along their backs standing prouder like hackles rising, the ponies’ defensive preparations like a red rag to a bull or a scurrying mouse to a cat. But like well-trained hounds they did nothing until bidden by their stoic master, the order to begin the slaughter delayed inexplicably, even though they faced certain victory. The air seemed to become thick with fraught tension. Ponies and dragons: two incredible forces, one of steel and magic, the other of fire and fury, each battle-ready and willing to fight at the next moment, each with nerves as tightly drawn as a crossbow cord, but each disciplined behind their commanders as Pony Princesses locked eyes with the Lord of All Dragons, all of them awaiting a single terrible command... the width of a mere word between themselves and war. Even Scald, perhaps sensing the importance of the moment, waited.

Stillness followed, drawn out from moment into moment. An unrelaxing calm before the inevitable storm.

The silence stretched on, and as it did, Spike smiled, the first one on the plateau to relax. He knew. He had been nervous, yes, but he knew. The Princesses would never order an attack unless there was no other choice, and right now there was another choice – even if that choice was inaction. In this stalemate, there was peace, and they would have it persist until there was no other way.

Ember could only have suspected, not known for certain, that the Princesses would not order the pony forces to commit to battle first. But that uncertainty didn’t matter: her forces were dominant and she had no need to initiate a first strike against an army that – though impressive in its size and scope – was no real threat to her or her dragons. And so the impasse lingered.

Neither side needed to fight. Celestia and Luna would never choose to fight. In fact the only variable in the whole equation that left it adding up to war was whether Ember might want to attack. A variable guessed at by many but known for certain only to herself, and to Spike. And when after a few more moments Ember was satisfied that the ponies weren’t going to be even more foolish than Spike had already been she relaxed too, and gave a subtle nod. She looked up at Scald, his muscles still tensed and ready to launch himself into battle, and with a very direct glare caught his eye, and gave the subtlest of nods to the cage behind her. “Let her go.”

Scald looked at Ember with surprise, the command not the one he was expecting to hear. “My Lord? I don’t—?”

“Let her go,” pressed Ember, though her gaze cooled, making it clear she wasn’t prepared to repeat her order a third time.

Scald’s eyes widened in surprise, but he refused to voice further objection. Obeying, he turned and reached out with a claw the size of a dining table, grasped one of the angled stone pillars he had earlier driven into the mountain rock, and pulled it smoothly free as though it were a toothpick.

With the newfound gap in the cage made, Dash stepped out, finally free. As she stepped cautiously towards Ember the dragoness gave a nod skywards, towards the ranks of flying pegasi and their chariots. Dash ignored her gesture though, and trotted on past, straight over to Spike and stood protectively next to and slightly-in-front-of him, looking back at Ember with an uncertain, suspicious expression and subtly flexing her wings, getting blood flowing back and ready to give Spike a quick exit if this still went south somehow. Ember rolled her eyes. Okay, whatever. She looked again at Celestia and Luna still hovering over her. “She’s unharmed,” she explained.

Another moment dragged on in silence but the tension seemed to ease by a fraction. The dragons atop the summit settled back down, albeit a little more restless than before, and in response gold-plated shields were lowered, just a little.

Celestia broke from her position at the head of her army and fluttered toward the plateau, slowly and careful not to provoke. She alighted on her hooves next to Rainbow and Spike, and gave them both a worried, questioning look up and down. Rainbow Dash turned to look up at her, and glances and nods were exchanged between her and Celestia. Confirmation that she was, as promised, okay. Celestia raised her head again to look at Ember, stood alone and distant across the plateau, a definite gulf between them.

“Thank you,” she said, and dipped her head respectfully.

Ember sighed a weary, resigned sigh, her arms half-splaying for a moment before falling limp at her side in an I-give-up gesture. She couldn’t even bring herself to be angry anymore. Just disappointed. “What are you thanking me for, Princess?” she said heavily, shaking her head before meeting Celestia’s gaze once more. “Not torturing your pony? Not immolating your army? You’re thanking me for not being a monster.” Another sigh. “I should be insulted... but that’s how the whole world sees us,” she said with a glance upward at Scald’s huge, brutish presence beside her. “I thought... we could be something more.”

Ember looked back to Celestia, her expression once more that of resignation. “Look at him, Princess. Look at any of of them. See how confused they are? They don’t know why we aren’t fighting right now. They have no idea why I want your pony to be returned safely. They have no comprehension why I’d go out of my way – why their Dragon Lord would lift a finger or even draw breath – to intervene on Scald’s behalf. Look, see? He’s still waiting for me to name my price – to tell him exactly why I need him, or perhaps reveal how much receiving the help of the Dragon Lord herself is going to cost him.” She shook her head sadly, sighed again, and looked at the floor. “He doesn’t understand what help is. None of them do. Neither did I, until someone showed me. And there was only one place he learned it,” she finished with a glance at Spike before her gaze was once more back with Celestia. “I came here because I wanted my dragons to come and see this great land you’ve built together; the harmony you have here... and take something away from it. Something I don’t think we’ll find anywhere else.”

“Equestria’s Greatest Metaphor,” scoffed Scald.

“Scald, do you want to go back in your bubble?! Because I can ask!” snapped Ember. She fixed him with a furious gaze, her patience with him finally at an end.

He must have sensed because in reply he bowed his head in an oddly – for him at least – humble gesture.

“What do I have to do to make you see it, Scald? Just look at Spike. Look at what he just did,” said an exasperated Ember, motioning to Spike. “He’s not a king, or a queen or a lord. He’s no-one special... except to his friends. His friends care about him so much that if he’s ever in trouble an entire army will rally to help him. They’ll give him enough strength to overcome even a brute like you, and they’ll ask for nothing in return.” She paused. “What if we had that too? Can’t you imagine?”

Scald eyed Ember warily, clearly wanting to choose his words carefully lest he risk further chastisement. “It is a fool’s notion, my Lord. It will never come to pass.”

“But it did! Just now. It’s already happening.” Her gaze actually softened a little. “I’m your Dragon Lord. You’re all my dragons. That means if – if! – you ever get into any trouble out there in the world, no matter what or where it is, and you need help... even if it’s you, Scald... I’ll come for you. And if it’s necessary, I’ll bring every single dragon with me.” It seemed to take Scald a while to process the information, prompting Ember to add, “I know what it’s like to need help. It’s not a nice feeling. And as long as I’m Dragon Lord, any dragon that needs help is going to get it. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“That I have only to claim to need help and...” said Scald with an uncertain cadence. Then he raised his head and looked out to the horizon with eyes that widened with wonder, as though the conclusion was a beautiful flower blooming before him. “I... will be invincible...”

Ember smacked her palm into her forehead in exasperation and hung it. She mumbled something almost inaudible under her breath, though the final few words were “...against a brick wall.”

Finally Ember composed herself. “Nevermind... just... get everyone ready to fly. The princesses want us gone... and there’s nothing for us here.” She looked back to Celestia. “If you want, I’ll let your army escort us to your border.”

“My Lord—?!” said Scald, once again confused.

“Yes?!” snapped Ember, and Scald had to recoil to deal with yet another rebuke.

“Forgive me please, my Lord but...!” he dropped his voice to a whisper, though why was unclear: large as he was, even his whisper could be heard by all assembled. “—why? You talk of a collaboration among dragons that would increase our strength beyond theirs exponentially... and then decide to flaunt weakness in front of them? To allow them to dictate our actions?”

“Scald, for once in your life, just—” she began. But was interrupted.

“I see no weakness,” Celestia spoke up. She gave a solemn nod and began walking toward the centre of the plateau, fixing Ember with a kind gaze, and one that at last bore a measure of understanding and empathy. “I see a ruler who commands absolute power... yet acts with restraint. Even though their pride might be threatened. Even when surrounded by those who demand action. That is not weakness to me. That, I see as a hallmark of incredible strength.”

She stopped before Ember and when she met her eyes now her gaze carried with it the utmost respect. “Throughout the ages there have been too many hierarchs who thought themselves strong, but whose egos were curiously frail. The annals of history recount many times over the anguish of the innocent who suffered for no other reason than one ruler or other perceived a slight to their dignity, and tried to correct it lest they be seen as weak. In my experience it is, in fact, only the strongest and most self-confident of leaders who can afford to let such matters go.” She stopped before Ember. “I do not see any monsters here, Lord Ember. I see a strong-willed leader trying to make the world a better place for her people at no expense to anyone else. That is something very rare... and very familiar. I regret that I did not see it earlier,” she finished with another, deep dip of her head. “At our first meeting I said that Equestria has nothing to offer those who would come in force... and that is true. But to those who come in peace? With open minds and tolerance in their hearts? To them we have much we wish to share. Please... I hope you can forgive my brusqueness yesterday. Equestria has never had any quarrel with you, but your arrival was sudden and intimidating to many, and we came to believe that you may have one with us. I became defensive because I misjudged your intentions – and you yourself – even against the advice of a trusted friend, and for that... I am sorry.”

Ember was surprised for a moment. “Huh...” was all she could say at first. Finally she managed to order her thoughts into words. “I wasn’t expecting a full-on apology from the Princess of Equestria. Especially such a plain-spoken one. Aren’t you supposed to disguise it a bit better? Or make it sound like you might be apologising but not actually say it?”

Celestia gave a humble shake of her head. “No. Because I was wrong. And I consider myself fortunate that my own pride still allows me to acknowledge when I am at fault, and not to hide my own errors behind blame for others. I am being sincere when I say that I hope you will accept.”

Scald – never one to learn – butted in again. “Our Lord? Accept an apology from you? Mewling weaklings who nonetheless have the audacity to call armies and send spies against us? Why would Lord Ember accept—?”

“OUR AUDACITY?!” screamed Luna, zipping from her place in the formation to hover almost muzzle to muzzle with Scald. “Let us talk of audacity! Let us talk of dragons traipsing across borders; of them turning our mountaintop into a wrestling ring; of them claiming they will leave only to skulk into our city in the dead of night; of them taking captives unprovoked!”

Scald’s eyes narrowed and his grin turned thin and cruel. “Oh, I like this blue one, my Lord. May I take it to keep as a pet?”

Luna’s horn flashed dangerously into life. “I will make the bubble soundproof...”

“Stop, both of you!” cried Spike, half in desperation, half in annoyed anger. “You’re not helping!”

Ember regarded Celestia, a defeated, hopeless expression once more coming to her. “Actually, they’ve summed it up pretty well. There’s... a lot to unstick, isn’t there? You’re making weapons to use on us. We... caused a panic. It doesn’t feel like we can just ignore all these things.”

Celestia just smiled kindly, and gave a slow shake of her head. “We have both had ample pretext this past day to take offense. To further any narrative that leads away from peace and toward conflict... but here and now we have both chosen to see past our errors in favour of something more constructive. Many others would not be able to. I can say to you here, now, that of all the actions Equestria has taken, none of it was ever done because we wanted to cause harm to you. If you will say the same... that is enough for me. No-one has been hurt, and nothing has been done that cannot be undone. The rest is... talking and honesty. Why must it be any more complicated?” She allowed herself a little chuckle. “Believe me: even with all that has happened, talking to someone who actually wants to talk back and resolve our differences rather than brood over them... I would rather be here than many other diplomatic positions I have been in. And you might be surprised at how readily forgiveness can be shared when two parties want to respect, trust, understand and work with each other.”

Ember was silent for a moment, her eyebrow still raised. Then at last she conceded, “Look, I’m... new... to all this. Diplomacy. I don’t get how some of it works.” She drew herself up. “But it sounds like we both have things we regret. I’d like to accept your apology. That is, as long as you accept mine. I mean, if you don’t, I’m not accepting yours at all. Or apologising myself.”

Celestia nodded, dipping her head deeply and even letting out a little chuckle. “I would be honoured to accept, Lord Ember.”

Scald’s jaw had dropped in a look of horror, a silent ‘Why?’ on his lips. Ember looked up at him and sighed. “Go join the others. Get them ready to fly.” Never quite losing his look of bewilderment, Scald turned and began to climb the mountain slope, quite dismissed.

Ember sighed. “I wonder if they’ll ever see it...”.

“We both know it is possible. After all, there are two examples of those who already have right here. And with you as their ruler, I believe they have every chance.” Celestia raised her head. “Luna? Recall the Guard and stand them down.” She looked at Ember. “There will be no need for an escort.”

Luna nodded, and with a barked order she wheeled around in the air and was instantly at the head of a triple-file column of ponies hundreds strong as they streamed back towards the city below, leaving Ember, Celestia, Spike and Rainbow Dash on the plateau.

Suddenly, Spike spoke up, scampering forward to join the group. “So we did it, right? No harm done and we’re all friends now?”

In reply, Ember suddenly turned upon him a frown coloured with the same disdainful expression she had used earlier. “You’re an idiot,” she said to him again.

“What?” he said, confused.

“You were supposed to take the hint, Spike. In fact, exactly which part of, ‘I’ll make an excuse to get rid of Scald and then conveniently turn my back and leave you alone with your trapped friend so you can help her escape,’ did you not understand?”

“Oh... that,” said Spike. He looked at her sincerely. “Come on, Ember. I couldn’t leave this. Not when there was still a chance we could work things out peacefully.”

“And this was better, was it?! This was your plan for peace?! Oh of course, it’s such a good idea! Call an army of ponies to face off against a rabble of testy dragons! Do you have any idea how badly wrong this could have gone?! I pulled your scales out of a tar pit here. You owe me big for this.”

“It wouldn’t have gone wrong,” insisted Spike.

“Really? Can you imagine what carnage would have happened if your ponies had attacked?”

“They wouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah? What if I’d attacked?!”

Spike smiled. “You wouldn’t,” he said softly.

And there, that was the crux of it. A war was like a bonfire. It could be the largest, best-prepared bonfire ever, with the driest wood and the best kindling, ready to take instantly and to burn and blaze with the magnificent light and brilliant heat of untold, unstoppable destruction... but someone had to light it. Someone had to want to see it burn. And even if both sides held matches, if neither wanted to strike theirs, the fire would forever stay unlit.

“Urgh.” Ember shook her head. “And her?” she said, nodding at Rainbow Dash.

“Well, we thought about getting me out...” admitted Rainbow Dash. “But... y’know... if Spike wasn’t leaving, I wasn’t either, and I didn’t want him to get in trouble for helping me.”

“You... stayed? Here? On purpose?”

“Yeah. Something something loyalty etcetera.”

Ember shook her head. “I’m starting to regret coming here for entirely new reasons. You’re all idiots,” she grumbled. She turned to look at Celestia and sighed. “Princess, your ambassador here is an idiot... but he’s probably the best at dragons you’ve got, so I’ll take him. And as for your spy?” She put on a little frown... and then gave a short sigh. “For the record, she didn’t tell me anything... but I think that’s largely because I didn’t ask. Oh and also, she needs a new serial number. A short one. A really short one.”

“Never living it down,” came a very muted groan from Dash’s direction.

Celestia stifled another chuckle, then turned back to Ember. “There is one other matter... I am not certain that I can truly help you with what you came here seeking. We can forge alliances, pledge to assist each other in times of need, open trade and act for each other’s benefit... but if what you wish is for your dragons to learn friendship... to help and care for each other; to build their own society and their own relationships... that is beyond us. Friendship is a treasure, to be certain, but it is not something that can be packaged and given away, by us or by anyone. The most we can do... is offer it.”

“That’s enough for a start. I just... all I need is for them to see how it works,” said Ember. “And, even for how stupid an idea it was, they’ve just seen ponies putting themselves in danger to help a friend they care about – a dragon no less – and joining forces to overcome an impossible obstacle. I guarantee that’s got their attention. If they see what friendship like that can achieve, maybe they’ll try it. If they try it, they might like it. If they like it, they’ll share it with others.” She sighed. “It’s a long road, and we’re only on our first step. But we’ll get there. I know we will.”

“You have made friends here today, Lord Ember. And if we can help you further your cause, then we will do what we can,” said Celestia. “You and your dragons are welcome here – though perhaps the next time you visit, a little more warning would not go amiss?”

Ember looked up sincerely. “I understand. And thank you. These dragons? Outside of the Dragon Lands... they’ve never been made welcome anywhere. So I appreciate the gesture. For now though... I’m gonna head home. Regroup a little. Maybe take this a little slower before I decide to plunge across anyone else’s borders again.”

“Ahem.” Princess Luna’s voice broke in as she alighted on the plateau next to her sister. “The Guard have been recalled and will be standing down.” She locked Ember’s gaze. “Before you depart, Lord Ember, I have a... a message for you,” she said awkwardly, and actually looked a little embarrassed. “I gave my word that I would pass it on if we were to meet again and if the situation were... amicably resolved. Something which – when I agreed to this – I was less than confidant would happen given our first meeting.” She produced a folded piece of paper and opened it out, clearing her throat again and reluctantly began to read. “‘Dear Miss Blue Dragon Lady. I would like to invite you to my birthday party next Friday. Mom said I couldn’t have one because I didn’t have anypony to invite but now if you and that other nice dragon come, brackets he’s invited too, there’ll be three of us, and we’ll have lots of fun I promise. Please say you’ll be there. Yours hopefully, Lavender Charm, eighty-six Sunset Walk, Canterlot, Equestria.’”

Ember looked dumbstruck.

Celestia put on a sly grin and dipped her head a little closer to Luna. “Very eloquent, sister. Did you write it all by yourself?”

“Laugh all you want, sister, but I have bad news for you. If Lord Ember is not in a position to accept, we are attending in her stead.”

Celestia’s eyes snapped wide open. “What?”

“What was I supposed to do? A young filly handed me an invitation for Lord Ember which was by no means guaranteed to be delivered, and said she said she had no friends to invite to her birthday party! I couldn’t allow her to not have one. So... I agreed. Then she asked me if you would be there too – you are her favourite apparently – and I said yes, absolutely. Not without a measure of satisfaction, admittedly,” added Luna. She turned back to Ember. “If you wish, we will make your excuses for you. But the invitation is a genuine one. You made quite the impression.”

Ember raised a claw to her chin. After a moment, she said, “You know what? Let me think about it. It’s not a no.”

Luna nodded. “Very well.”

Ember nodded back. “Look, I should get going before they start fighting or something again.” She looked at Spike. “What about you? I guess you’re staying?”

“Now that everything’s worked out... yeah. I mean, if that’s okay with you... Dragon Lord Ember?”

Ember smiled. “You’re a dragon, Spike. That means you do what you want until I need you for something. And if what you want is to stay with your friends, then that’s what you do.”

“Maybe... if you were looking to learn more about friendship... you could come and visit me in Ponyville sometime?” asked Spike, utterly unable to keep the blatant hope from his eyes.

Ember paused. “Maybe,” she said, considering. “I’ll think about it.” At last she spread her wings and took flight, giving the assembled ponies one last look. Then she turned and soared upwards, high over the peak of the mountain and struck a course eastwards. The remaining dragons, led by Scald all unfurled gargantuan wings, beat them hard and hefted themselves into flight, following behind, leaving Equestria in the direction of the newly-risen sun.

Which left only Celestia, Spike and Rainbow Dash.

“I owe you an apology too, Spike,” said Celestia. “You tried to tell me and I did not listen. To respond to the unknown with hostility – as I did – is an act borne of fear. I believed I was being strong, but in fact I was only afraid of all I might lose. To have approached with kindness and understanding, even in the face of doubt... that would have been an act of true strength. Something that you have displayed in abundance.”

“I’m just glad it all worked out,” admitted Spike, though his cheeks coloured noticeably.

“I honestly believe that, were it not for you, they would not have,” said Celestia. “Only you had the confidence and perseverance to keep our chances for friendship alive, and it seems Lord Ember has already vouched for you.” She drew her head up a little into a more formal, regal posture. “I therefore would like to formally offer you the official title and position of Equestria’s Ambassador to the Dragon Lands. I trust you will consider it?”

“Will I?!” cried Spike in amazement. “You bet! Official ambassador, huh? Wait till Twilight hears about this! Wait...” sudden doubt accosted him. “I don’t have to leave, do I?”

Celestia chuckled. “Equestria? No. I meant what I said, Spike. There will always be a place for you here. However I would recommend removing yourself from this mountaintop. The chill is quite brisk. I trust Rainbow Dash will be able to see you safely back to Ponyville?”

“You betcha, ma’am,” said Rainbow Dash with a grin, snapping a quick salute. “Hop on, buddy.”

“Right.” Spike clambered up onto Dash’s back and she spread her wings, giving them a little flex. “Sixty seconds, wasn’t it?” asked Spike with a little grin. One that Rainbow Dash matched.

Without further ceremony, Dash raced to the edge of the plateau and launched herself into the air, wings thumping as she raced away, determined to beat the minute-hand back to Ponyville.

Celestia remained a moment and smiled, then turned toward the morning sun, and the direction that the dragons had left. She had come close, she thought, to losing it all. But perhaps not as close as she had feared. And now, there was hope of a new dawn with the dragons, thanks to Spike. Equestria’s true treasure was its ponies, she reflected with a smile. Even when they weren’t ponies at all.

Epilogue: The Best Laid Plans...

“Sister? Something troubles you?” asked Luna. The morning sun shone golden rays on the castle as they walked.

“I am not troubled, as such. But I have been... reflecting.”

“Oh?”

“On our tribulations these past two days. How they all ultimately stem from a failure to communicate.” She looked to her sister. “In doing what we can for our ponies, have we become too insular? Too willing to look only to the borders of our nation, and not beyond?”

“We have a tendency to deal with the problems that present themselves to us directly,” she admitted. “They often keep us busy enough without us looking further afield to ward off others. What are you thinking?” she asked with a sidelong glance.

“There was... an effort. Long ago. A coming together of every creature. A free sharing of knowledge and kinship between all, and a lasting peace that it fostered.”

“Convocation?” asked Luna. “You believe it could still happen? In this day and age?”

“I believe we could have avoided all of this if we had been willing to talk and share more with our dragon neighbours. I wonder if we have inadvertently been making that same mistake with our other friends.”

“You plan to revive it? You believe they would all come?”

“I believe there will be a great deal of organisation involved,” said Celestia with a smile. “Fortunately, I know someone who is very good at that.”

* * *

Ponyville was a mess.

Almost every ground-floor window was smashed it is frame, there were great, ragged holes in the sides of several buildings, great furrows had rutted and pitted the ground turning the normally pleasant grass and packed earth into churned mud, and faint trails of smoke even wafted into the air in places. It looked like a hurricane had swept through and neither Spike nor Rainbow Dash could keep their jaws from the floor as they landed, and Spike jumped down, aghast.

“You’re back!”

Twilight galloped up. Tiny pupils. Manic smile. Wiry mane. Uh oh.

“Twilight, what happened?!” gasped Spike. “Did a dragon attack Ponyville before they left?!”

“What, this? Oh, no,” said Twilight. Little eye-twitch. “This is fine. It’s fine!”

“Twilight? What... happened?” insisted Spike.

“Well the meeting between the buffalo and the yaks presented certain... unforeseen opportunities for cultural exchange,” said Twilight in a very high-pitched voice. “They hit it off. They... really hit it off. The yaks introduced the buffalo to stomping. And the buffalo introduced the yaks to stampeding. They all had a really good time in Ponyville. Stomping and stampeding. Stampeding and stomping, all over the town! They’re great friends now! Big, successful summit! By the way if you see the mayor I’m not home and you don’t know where I am.” Big-grin-eye-twitch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go look up a spell to fix drywall. See you later!” she said, galloping off in the direction of the castle.

Spike and Dash watched her go, surprise rooting them to the spot, their mouths hanging open and the half-destroyed remains of the village surrounding them.

Spike sighed. “I spend almost two days trying to stop Equestria being destroyed...”

“And...?”

“Why did I bother?”

Author's Note

Ladies and Gents, thank you for reading.

There's an old saying: write about what you know. And, as is likely all too clear by now, I know very little about politics.

This story has existed, in some form or another, for a couple of years now. And in the form in which it is currently presented I have many, many problems with it, all of which stem from my inability to properly execute the concepts that were originally in my head. I very nearly scrapped this whole thing five or six times while writing it because I never felt it was working out as I wanted. I ploughed on because I thought I could salvage some of the ideas... and because the core of the story I really liked. I would be lying if I said that the state of world politics circa 2016-19 wasn't a driving force behind wanting to write it. In a world where nations are splitting from longtime allies to go it alone, and where political parties are beginning to treat each other like literal enemies, it was cathartic to write a story about two sides with no reason or political imperative to trust each other forcing themselves to find a way past their differences and for no other reason than because they both wanted to. Alas, the execution let me down.

This was supposed to be a story about misunderstandings, how easily they can lead to offense and insult. And when the people involved have power and pride, that's often all it takes to lead to conflict. It's supposed to be a story about desperation, and how far you might be willing to go when faced with an overwhelming foe and absolutely no safety net to save you. It's about fear, and how it leads us to assume the worst of others. It's about the folly of escalation; meeting aggression with aggression and expecting affairs to improve. It's about all the vicious circles that lead us down darker and darker paths that can all be broken if we just... listen to and forgive each other. And most importantly, it's about what we can achieve together when we do.

And if you didn't get all that -- and let's be honest, it's not all there to see -- that's because I just couldn't get it down in the way I wanted.

So I apologise if you didn't get what you were hoping for out of this story. If it's any consolation, neither did I. If you managed to enjoy it, I'm glad you found something to enjoy. If you were left disappointed, then I can only apologise for the time you've lost.

As always, take care and have fun.

--The Author

Power Corrupts

“Ember? Ember! What happened? Ember?!” Spike tried, yelling over the rushing wind as they soared upwards, but though he was certain she could hear him, she gave no reply. Just carried on looking determinedly forward, and he could see her fists constantly balling and relaxing. Eventually their flight levelled off as they more or less reached the height of the plateau, and the wind-noise died. Spike tried again, waiting for persistence to yield a reward. “Ember? Please, talk to me? What was that about?”

“It was about me being right, Spike!” fumed Ember. “This was never going to work.”

“But you didn’t even—!”

“—Get five minutes?!” snapped Ember, turning her ire on him suddenly. “Great distraction, by the way! Just terrific! Were you out for a slow jog or what?!” she vented.

“From what I heard it doesn’t sound like a longer conversation would’ve done much good,” said Spike, a little annoyance rising in himself now. How had Ember managed to take something so simple and complicate it so much? “What happened?!” he tried again.

“She thought I was there to extort her. Didn’t even consider anything else! Basically accused me of holding you to ransom!” growled Ember. Then she turned her head and managed to meet his gaze. “Let me make one thing crystal clear, Spike. I’m the Dragon Lord, and you’re a dragon. That means wherever you go in this world, and whatever you choose to do, you’re my responsibility. You’re under my protection. And no ponies are going to say otherwise.” She turned her head forward again, her piece said and the conversation over.

Spike didn’t have a reply to that, and he still had little idea of why Ember had become so utterly enraged. It wasn’t the time to bridge the question right now, so for a few moments they climbed in silence until they reached the level of the plateau. And then they saw it.

Spike had to squint in the low light, but as they got closer, he saw it more clearly. There was something else on the plateau now. Something that hadn’t been there when they left. Uh oh.

“Um, Ember? The kidnapping-slash-ransom thing?” said Spike. “I don’t think it was me she was referring to.”

“What the rock?” muttered Ember under her breath.

On the flat surface of the plateau there was a new construct of some kind. It looked like several of the largest, thickest stalactites from inside the cave had been wrenched off with great force, and driven into the flat rock of the plateau, pointed ends first, and at angles. Together they made up a coned, teepee-like arrangement. It looked, disconcertingly, like the sort of structure you might make from kindling were you planning to start a fire... just bigger. And even more disconcertingly Spike could see movement from within it. There was a creature there, trapped in the middle of the cage of stalactites. No, not a creature... a pony. And as they got closer still... oh. Oh boy. Spike sighed and had to rest his forehead in a palm. Blue flightsuit, goggles, rainbow-coloured hair. Of course it was. It just couldn’t have been anypony else, could it?

Rainbow Dash was pacing warily inside her improvised cage, though she had barely two meters of floor-space to work with and much less headroom than that even, thanks to the angle of the stalactites. Every so often she would fire a harsh glare at Scald who lay on all fours in his customary position, keeping one eye on her but otherwise rather unconcerned. The remaining dragons, though they had sent up a great collective roar earlier on had now largely returned to their resting states. Even the return of Ember and Spike to the plateau did not much invigorate them, though it drew a modicum of attention.

Upon seeing them both, Scald rose to all-fours and dipped his head in greeting. Apparently noting that she had returned empty-clawed, he said, “My Lord? Your excursion was unsuccessful?”

Ember couldn’t take her gaze off the confined pony for a long, silent moment, her mouth even open a little in shock and surprise. At last she put on an angry frown – an expression that was worryingly easy to fall back into – and turned a glower upon the hulking scarlet brute. “Scald? This had better be good.”

Scald initially seemed confused until she gave an annoyed nod in the direction of the cage, and its occupant. “What is that?” Ember half-asked, half-accused.

“A spy,” replied Scald with a little matter-of-fact shrug. “I wager the natives have been sending them since we arrived. This one made the mistake of venturing too close to me,” he added with a victorious smirk to Rainbow Dash’s silent ire, and she deliberately looked away.

Only to have her attention drawn back when an angered Ember began stalking towards the cage, to stand snout-to-muzzle with her. Dash returned a defiant glare.

“So you’ve been spying on us too?!” seethed Ember, though it was more a rhetorical question, fuelled simply by rage than desire for an answer.

“Hey! I wasn’t spying!” retorted Rainbow Dash. “I was doing, ‘re-con-nonsense.’ It’s totally different to spying.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Reconnaissance. It’s... basically the same thing, Rainbow Dash,” said Spike, pressing a claw to his forehead.

“Hey! Whose side are you on?!” snapped Rainbow, before she returned her gaze to Ember and raised her muzzle high. “Besides, I can’t tell you what I was doing. The only thing I’m supposed to give you is my name, rank, and serial number,” she harrumphed. “Ahem. Rainbow Dash. Wonderbolt. Uhh... R-A-I-N-B—”

“Uh, Dash? That’s not a serial number, that’s just your name spelled out,” observed Spike.

Dash blinked, surprised, and then slowly found her defiant frown again. “Well then... you can’t have my serial number, because I forgot it!” she threw out. Then a moment later her frown relented. “I mean seriously, it was really long. And it’s not even a number, it’s letters and numbers? Who came up with that? I... think there’s a four in it?” she offered.

Ember simply gazed open-mouthed at Rainbow Dash, then shook her head, bewildered.

Spike turned to Ember, a slow, cold dread settling over him, and he spoke with shaky-voiced urgency. “The Wonderbolts we saw, the catapults, the Guards getting ready for a fight... this is why. Ember... this is serious. Y-you’ve taken a hostage!”

“I have captured a spy,” argued Scald who then looked to Ember, his voice dipping to a sinister rumble. “A spy who did not even make the effort to conceal itself. It is an insult, my Lord. They are mocking you, thumbing their noses.”

Ember stayed silent for a moment, then returned his gaze with a cool one which she held for a long, drawn-out moment before she responded. “So?”

Scald blinked, a little taken aback at Ember’s total disinterest at the supposed affront. Finally he regained his composure. “Do you wish me to... interrogate it?”

“No.”

“But perhaps it will reveal the location of the Treasure you seek.”

“I said no, Scald.” Ember’s glower was a fixture. “There’s no point.”

“Then... you did learn of its location?” Scald’s head cocked in apparent confusion. “If you know where their prize is, then why not simply take it now?”

“Because it isn’t something we can take,” shot Ember. “If I had to take what I came here for by force... it wouldn’t be worth having.”

Scald looked thoroughly bemused now. “I am not accustomed to riddles, my Lord,” he growled, his own annoyance starting to bleed through even if he was addressing his ruler. “The treasure has value, you desire it, and the natives cannot stop us taking it. It is a very simple equation.”

Ember met his gaze, unwavering. “There’s nothing simple about any of this, and then you went and complicated things further by putting a pony in a cage!”

“A creature we can leverage to obtain your tr—”

“No, Scald!” screamed Ember. “How many times?! Ugh! The treasure... the treasure is a metaphor! A met-a-phor! Don’t you get it? Do you really not understand?! Equestria’s Greatest Treasure, the Source of All Their Power, the Key to Their Strength – it’s all the same thing! It’s...!” She looked once more at Rainbow Dash, and gave another heavy, defeated sigh. “I don’t even know what to properly call it.”

Dash looked surprised for a moment as understanding dawned. “Friendship?”

“Not even that. Right now I’d settle for ‘co-operation’, or even ‘not tearing six layers of scales off each other,’” she added with a grumble. She looked at Scald again. “Intimidation... destruction... isolation... that’s all a dragon is. That doesn’t improve us! It doesn’t make us better, or more powerful! I... I want dragons to co-operate. I want us to learn to build! Community. A society. Maybe even a city like that one day! That’s how we get stronger. That’s why I brought you here. To Equestria: a land where everyone gets along without constantly fighting for their place in a pecking order. Where wanting to work together isn’t treated as something suspicious... in fact it doesn’t get given a second thought. This storied utopia where they offer love and tolerance and help to anycreature that needs it...” she said, turning slowly to fix her cold, furious eyes on Rainbow Dash, her face as thunder. “...except dragons.

“To think I actually believed this could work. What an idiot I was to think there was any chance we’d coexist.” Rainbow Dash looked as though to offer some objection but Ember steamrollered on, her voice hissing and seething. “Ponies. You’ll be friends with buffalo. You’ll be friends with yaks. You’ll be friends with griffons, and breezies, and sea-serpents, and minotaurs, and changelings, and the Lord of Chaos himself! It doesn’t even matter if someone once tried to destroy you. You welcome them in with smiles and open hooves and friendship festivals and share what you have with all of them!” she yelled. Then her voice once more became a cold, hissing growl. “But not us. Not dragons. When dragons arrive... you call armies. You build weapons. You send spies! Because we’re big, and scary, and threatening and we couldn’t possibly be anything else!” Her voice dropped and she hissed again, the end of her snout scant millimeters from Rainbow’s by now. “What did we do to you, hmm? What did we do wrong, except show up here and wait to be told we weren’t wanted?”

“I... er?”

“And you know what the worst part is? The thing that makes me more angry and frustrated than anything else?” Suddenly Ember whirled, her arm snapping up, shooting an outstretched claw squarely at Scald. “It’s that you were right, Scald!” she cried, to which Scald quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head as if unsure why that had ever been in doubt. “Because if we aren’t welcome in Equestria... we’ll never be welcome anywhere.” Ember hung her head, the anger that she’d been building since Canterlot finally released and spent. “We’re dragons.”

A moment of stunned silence.

“If... the natives’ lack of hospitality toward us angers you...” Scald began with a note of uncertainty, but quickly building in confidence, “then make your displeasure known. Do not let their slights go unanswered. At your command, my Lord, I and your subjects will raze their city with fire and smoke until these creatures beg for your favor. Make an example: let it be known to them and all who know them never to risk shunning Dragon Lord Ember when she arrives on their shores!” he cried with a triumphant crescendo. “They will venerate you and all dragon-kind before the new day is over. I will see to it. Simply... give the word.”

Ember was very silent, and very still for a moment, looking at the ground and struggling to keep her breathing calm. There was a long silence before at last she said, “No, Scald.”

Again, Scald seemed confused. “But they—!”

“That isn’t... what I want!” she fumed, giving him a sharp look. Her gaze returned to the floor, she shook her head, and then with a final glance at Rainbow Dash, she turned and began to tramp towards the mountain cave. “I’m going to be alone for a while. Go check on Pyre: I don’t care if he’s still whining about his wing, give it a massage or something because if he’s still not flight-worthy, you’re carrying him. We’re leaving. Now.” A moment later, Ember disappeared into the cave, and was gone.

Scald snorted and scoffed. “Divisive.”

Spike shot him an angry glare. “Progressive,” he answered back.

“Progress? This? We have done nothing here but waste time. Surely you see that?” muttered Scald, turning for the mountain slope and catching Spike’s eye. “It seems I have a task. You should prepare to leave. Lord Ember seems impatient.” He placed a large foreclaw on the rock-face and started climbing toward one of the other dragons perched further up toward the peak, muttering “Of course I was right,” to himself as he went.

A moment of silence descended.

“Well... this is a huge mess,” said Spike.

“I’ll say,” said Rainbow.

“What happened?!” said Spike, rounding on Dash with a hint of annoyance. “I thought you all had orders ‘not to be seen under any circumstances’? How did you get caught?”

“I was looking for you!” snapped Rainbow.

“You... were?”

“Yeah! Fleetfoot obviously spilled the beans that she’d brought you up here – oh, she’s on punishment detail for a month for breaking protocol and Spitfire’s gonna kill me when she finds out about this – I came to get you out of here!”

“You did?”

“Of course I did! And you know, if you’d actually been here I wouldn’t have had to search for you so... technically, this is your fault,” she proclaimed. That earned her a level, arms-folded, eyebrow-quirked stare from the dry-witted dragon. She sighed an annoyed sigh and looked back. “Look, I was – I mean, I wasn’t not – worried about you, okay?” Then her expression softened. “Come on, what was I supposed to do, knowing you were up here? When my sortie came up I had to make sure you were at least okay, right? But I couldn’t see you anywhere. So when I saw the cave I figured you must be inside. I also figured Scaly-McScaleface was asleep.” She shook her head. “Soon as I went in looking for you he blocked the exit and trapped me. Then... he put me in here,” she finished sourly.

Spike let out a sigh through his nose and relented. “Did he hurt you?”

“Uh, yeah! He tore huge chunks out of my pride, if you must know. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how that guy can gloat.”

“No... I really would,” said Spike.

“Anyway the point is you’re back, and it sounds like we gotta book outta here fast before the dragons leave and try to take you with them.” She fixed him with another serious look. “I’m gonna need you to eat me out.”

Spike blinked. Looked back at Dash and raised another eyebrow. “Sorry, say that again?”

“I’m serious Spike!” said Rainbow, trying to shout in a whisper. “Come on, I’ve seen those chompers of yours crunch their way through diamonds. Just chew through one of these rock pillar thingies... and then I’ll handle the rest,” she said with a characteristic cocky smirk.

Spike’s face fell and he looked at Dash seriously, and sighed. “Rainbow Dash... you can’t take me away from here. Not now. If they go, I... I’ve gotta go too.”

“What?! What are you talking about? Spike, the dragons are leaving! You don’t have to go with them just because some Dragon Lord said! You bust me out of here and I can have us both back home in Ponyville in sixty seconds! You know I can do it.”

Spike was quiet for a moment. In spite of everything, he would be lying to himself if he said it wasn’t tempting. Rainbow Dash might have been putting on her brash, cocky persona, but she really could get him home within a minute. Sixty seconds... and this whole mess could be behind him. Get out of Dodge, back to safety. Ember would leave. He’d be back home with Twilight. Life would go on exactly as it had always done. To Rainbow Dash and the rest of Equestria, there would be very little lost. They’d even see it as a victory, perhaps. But to Spike... it would mean losing what could have been, here, today, if only. And that was an unfathomable amount.

He steeled himself and fixed Rainbow’s gaze. “I can’t. I mean, I’m sorry but...” his voice hardened a little. “...but you don’t get it either, do you? What’s at stake here? Like... why is it ‘them’ and ‘us’ all of a sudden, huh?” he asked seriously. “A minute ago you asked me whose side I was on. I know you’re thinking it: am I an ‘us’ or a ‘them’ now? Why do I have to be either?! You, Celestia, Scald – you’re all assuming there are two sides! Ember sees it differently, and so do I. But right now she thinks she’s wrong... and if she takes these dragons now and leaves, and I stay here in Equestria, ‘them’ and ‘us’ becomes the way of things. Maybe forever.” He put on a determined frown. “I wouldn’t be much of an ambassador if I stood back and let the door swing shut on friendship between ponies and dragons, especially when we’ve come so close. Ember can be convinced that it’s worth it – she wants to be! – but I’m the only dragon who’d ever try to persuade her, and you’ve already seen what I’d be up against. If she leaves... I’d have to go too. She’ll listen to me. And if I’m not there, she’ll listen to dragons like Scald instead.”

“Wow...” breathed Rainbow Dash. “You’re... really taking the whole ‘ambassador’ thing seriously.”

Spike’s determined frown intensified, and his voice found a little introspective fire. “Someone has to. Right now there’s no wall between being friends with ponies and actually being a dragon. I’m not just gonna stand by while one gets built.”

Dash gave a subtle, respectful nod, and then a little sigh. “Well, I guess if you’re staying, then so am I.”

Spike’s fire died a little and he met Rainbow’s gaze with a weak, wan smile. “You don’t have to. I mean, I can still try and get you out... but you’d have to promise to leave me behind. Also... it’s gonna take longer than you think.” Even at their thinnest point where they pierced the granite of the plateau, the stalactites were thicker than he could encircle with both arms. It was possible, but it wasn’t quite the two minute job Rainbow Dash had thought it to be.

“And risk you getting busted? No way. They’re never gonna listen to you if you’re the one who let the captured spy go, right? They might even... I dunno, what is the dragon punishment for helping the enemy?”

“Ember doesn’t think you’re an en—”

“I’m staying,” she said firmly, the sentiment rather undermined by the fact that she gave an involuntary, full-body shiver a moment later. “But... let’s try and fix everything before they take you away so I’m not stuck in here for longer than I have to be? This flight-suit is skin-tight and it’s not exactly fleece-lined. I am really cold.”

“Uh... okay, yeah. I’m working on it,” sighed Spike.

Dash frowned. “You do have a plan. Right?”

“Oh sure,” said Spike with resignation. “The plan. The plan to convince all these Dragons they’d be better off by allying themselves with a bunch of tiny magical ponies, give Ember a way of making peace with the princesses while allowing her to save face with her subjects and accommodating the fact that Canterlot’s actually on a war-footing against her; give the Princesses a way of making peace with Ember while addressing the fact that the Dragons have invaded their land and terrorized their city and taken a hostage; and figure out how to do all of that without anyone causing a major diplomatic incident that triggers a huge confrontation, and all before every-dragon leaves forever.” He gave a glance at Rainbow. “That plan?”

Dash paled a little, then gave a weary sigh. “Okay, yeah, it sounds tricky.” She shivered again.

An unwelcome shadow fell upon them from above as Scald languidly clambered down the slope and hefted his bulk back onto the plateau, lying down uncomfortably close. He turned his head towards the cave entrance and gave a single, explosive exhalation. Something caught between a bark and a roar. It was answered from the cave with a similar bark that Spike recognised as Ember’s voice. Something akin to dragon shorthand for, ‘In a minute!’ he guessed. Scald gave a brief sniff then he returned his attention to Spike. “Pyre’s wing is fine, despite his whining, We will leave as soon as Lord Ember is ready,” he told Spike.

“Wait so... what about me?” said Rainbow Dash.

Scald glanced at her, and gave an annoyed, dismissive frown. “What about you?”

“Right. You’re gonna leave me. In here. It’s just... if a blizzard or something comes in... I’ll freeze solid,” she admitted.

“And? I suppose you think you deserve a better fate, spy?” Scald scoffed. “If you would rather be too hot than too cold, I will gladly arrange it.”

“Hey,” objected Spike. “Leave her alone.”

The bigger dragon gave a loud snort, but relented. “Lord Ember was misguided to bring us here. What was she thinking we could ever ‘learn’ from creatures such as this?”

“Maybe something how being kind to others and not a jerk all the time makes a better world for everyone?” riposted Dash.

“Everyone else, perhaps. Being kind to others makes things no better for me. Why would I waste time and effort for no reward?” He scoffed again. “The only thing your kind could teach us is how to be as weak and insignificant as you. An example to be avoided.”

Rainbow frowned, and under her breath grumbled, “We’ll see who’s weak and insignificant when I shove a rainboom up your—”

“Dash!” scolded Spike.

“What? I wasn’t gonna say it,” she grouched.

Spike sighed and turned to Scald. “They’re not insignificant, and they’re not weak. In fact you shouldn’t underestimate them. The ponies are much more powerful than you think they are.”

“Exactly!” said Rainbow Dash. “We’re strong and tough and all sorts!”

Scald snorted and shook his head. “If I wished to squish you, pony, it would be the work of an instant. Where, exactly, is your power? Your strength?”

“You met Princess Celestia, remember?” said Spike. “She controls the sun. That’s the level of power they have.”

“Yeah! How is that not, like, the most powerful thing ever?”

Scald gave a funny look at that, and then an eye-roll. “‘Controls the sun,’” he snorted. “You are naive to believe the world works in such ways.”

“No... she really does raise the sun,” said Spike. “Trust me, I’ve seen her do it, and I’ve seen what happens when she’s not around to do it.”

He got another derisive snort for that. “Yet she ‘controls’ nothing. She may be the cause of the sun raising and lowering, but you would say that gives her power over it, would you?”

“Well... yeah,” said Spike, with Rainbow Dash agreeing in lockstep.

“Then you lack understanding of power,” the dragon scoffed at both of them. “Tell me: when was the last time she chose not to raise the sun? Hmm? Would she ever decide to leave it lowered, even for a day?”

“No, of course not. She’d never do that,” said Dash.

Scald nodded and gave a short, affirmative grunt. “Then what ‘power’ does she have? Power... true power... is choice. It is the freedom to do whatever you want and the ability to do it whenever you wish. Yet she wakes and raises the sun at the appointed hour every single morning, and retires only after she lowers it dutifully every single night.” He fixed Spike with a glare. “You say she ‘controls’ the sun. I say the sun controls her. You say she has power over it? I say she is its slave.”

“But she does it because raising the sun helps everypony. It’s a big, huge important job that every pony relies on her to do,” argued Spike.

“Don’t you see? This is exactly the point. This is why such creatures are weak. Reliance. Dependence. Ah, it is the same the world over,” he said with a nodded gesture at Rainbow Dash. “Look at this pony. Do you really imagine such a small, feeble creature could survive alone in the wilds of this world? Of course not. So they are forced to find others. Their continued existence gives them no choice but to herd together with the rest of their kind, to compensate for their individual inadequacies. They sacrifice their own desires for a ‘greater whole’ and euphemise their reliance on each other as ‘friendship’, ‘love’, ‘trust’, any number of things. They become wilfully blind to how their interdependence places them but a breath from calamity; delude themselves into believing it makes them stronger even – hah! No. Their ‘society’ is a house of cards. It looks strong only until you realise that every individual must support its peers, or it all collapses. It is a cracked window a hair’s breadth from shattering, and every single one of them is a shard of glass held in place.” He looked back at Spike. “Reliance. Dependence. These creatures are not free as we are, because each lacks the individual strength to control their own destiny. And here is proof, see? A strong creature would rend those bars and escape, but this one has lost mastery over its own fate precisely because it is too weak. How does ‘collective strength’ help it now, when it finds itself at the mercy of a mighty dragon? How much of their community will fall without this card in place? So... fragile.”

“I said leave her alone,” shot Spike. “You don’t get it do you? She’s going to be fine whatever happens, because she has friends she can rely on. Ponies who care about her, and after we’re gone they’ll come get her and make sure she’s safe.”

“Never living it down,” came a tiny, groaning voice as Dash looked at the ground.

“Oh? Will they? When? How?” asked Scald, giving a wicked grin toward Rainbow. “Will it be minutes? Hours? Days? Ever? Who can say? Would you not prefer to be in control of your own destiny, pony, than to entrust it to the whims of others and blind chance? Answer honestly.”

“What? It’s not chance. Of course I know my friends are coming,” retorted Rainbow Dash with a frown.

“No you do not. Unless you are gifted with telepathy, you are guessing. It may be a good guess; it may even be likely, but you cannot know. In fact, is that desperation I hear in your voice? Or is it, ‘hope’?” He snorted again. “You place your trust in others because your individual weakness forces you to. There is no other reason to do so. The truth of the matter is if you were stronger, your fate would still be in your own hooves and you would have no need for trust or faith or friendship.” He looked back to Spike. “Do you see now, kobold? A dragon relies on no-one. Depends on no-one. Because we are strong. Strength is power. Power is freedom. And we. Are. Free.”

Rainbow turned a frown on Scald. “You keep talking about how you’re dragons and you’re the strongest and most powerful and blah blah blah. It’s gonna bite you one day. There’s a saying: There’s Always a Bigger Fish.”

At this, Scald’s smirk grew into a wicked, thin smile. “Oh... but you are wrong,” he murred. He fixed Rainbow’s gaze and held it, unblinking. “I’ve seen things you ponies wouldn’t believe,” he said in a smooth growl. “Attack ships on fire off the Horn of Zion. I’ve watched rainbows shimmering in the dark over the Borealis Plain. I was witness as Babel’s tower sundered and broke, when unity and harmony splintered like matchwood to leave only a wake of chaos. I have travelled to every corner of this world and seen things beyond your imagination. And in all my time... in all my travels... there is one thing I have never seen: anything that can match a dragon.

“There are ‘larger’ creatures but they are docile. There are ‘smarter’ creatures, but they are feeble! I have seen every possible creature on every single continent that could possibly match me, and none can. We are the apex in this world. This is not arrogance, pony. This is experience.”

“Fine, so we’re free,” said Spike and shot Scald a deliberate, sharp stare. “But just because you’re strong, it doesn’t give you the right to go around just doing whatever you want,” he argued, a prickle of anger rising, burning on the back of his neck.

A thin, cruel smirk was his reply. “Why doesn’t it? I would argue that it does. That is exactly what it is to be a dragon. The world gives us a station with no equal, why should we not enjoy it?”

“So you think it’s fine to do whatever you want – burn a city even! – just because you feel like it? Even if innocent creatures end up getting hurt?!” snapped Spike, getting angrier. It was the callousness of it all. The lack of acknowledgement that power came with responsibility. That action came with consequence. The opposite of everything he’d ever learned from Twilight and the rest of his friends.

“If I wish to see it burn. The creatures are more than welcome to get out of my way,” argued Scald. “A demonstration? Look, here: Lord Ember does not wish this city routed, but there is a village over yonder she has made no mention of. Shall we see what it looks like in flames?”

“Hey! Th-that’s Ponyville!” cried Dash.

“Was that its name? Remember it then,” murred Scald, his lips forming a smirk. He stood, rising to all-fours, ruffling his wings as though to extend them.

“You... can’t just attack Ponyville!” Spike yelled.

Scald turned back to Spike to meet his gaze and his wings settled. “But I can. That is exactly the point. And since there is nothing capable of stopping me, why should I not?” he rumbled smoothly, a wicked, wide, sharp-fanged grin spreading.

“Because the ponies will react. You would start a war!”

“War?” mused Scald with thick sarcasm. He gave a low, wicked and sinister chuckle. “Do termites go to war against an anteater? Does a forest go to war against a wildfire?”

In an instant Spike’s anger vanished and his blood turned to ice, and suddenly he felt an immense weight on him. Surely the entire safety of Ponyville couldn’t be in jeopardy just based on the whim of this giant creature! A creature who was absolutely right when he said Spike he had no way of stopping him. Suddenly he had the barest inkling of the scale of the dilemma that the Princesses must have been facing for two whole days.

“But... you can’t! Ponies live there! My friends live there! I live there!” he cried, desperate to make a convincing argument while all too aware that, to Scald, this was not it.

Scald’s expression registered surprise for a flicker of an instant. “You... live... there?”

“Umm... y-yes?”

“Uh... me too, for what it’s worth,” chimed in Dash, and Scald rolled his eyes.

“Slightly more than a scout,” he said. “Hmm.”

There was a long, awful, drawn out moment when Scald simply looked neutrally at Spike until finally, seeming to reach a decision he settled back down onto his belly. “Perhaps I shall leave it alone then.” He looked to Rainbow Dash again. “My point is made. Fortunate you are that your home town was also home to a dragon, pony,” he added with a grin.

“What do you mean, ‘was’?” retorted Dash.

Which caught Scald by surprise and he looked back to Spike in puzzlement. “Surely you are not actually planning to return?”

“What? Of course I am. I mean, when this is all over, I have to go back, ” said Spike.

A cocked head and a raised eyebrow. “Have to? Have you heard nothing of what I have said? You are free! You do not have to do anything! What could possibly compel you to return to life among these... creatures?”

“Because I’ve got responsibilities here. Ponies who are counting on me. Like... like I promised the CMC’s I’d be their announcer for their thing this weekend.” Way to go, Spike. Keep digging.

“I... see.” Scald’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me: this... ‘announcer’... is that something you really desire to be?”

“Uh... well, I guess it wasn’t top of my list for things I wanted to do this weekend, but—”

“What is top of your list of ‘things you want to do’?” asked Scald.

“Uh...? Well, I guess... sleep in, gorge on gems, seven-hour bubble-bath—”

“Then do only those things.”

Spike gave him a level, unimpressed look. “Twilight would kill me.”

“Then incinerate him.”

“Her.”

“Then incinerate her.”

“That really isn’t the simple solution you think it is,” said Spike, deadpan.

“I fail to see why. Your talk of ‘responsibilities’ is confusing. If you do not wish to do a thing, why do it?”

“Because my friends asked if I’d help them, and I made a promise.”

“Ah, a promise: hollow words, easily recanted.”

“But they’re not hollow to my friends. Doesn’t your dragon code tell you to always keep your promises, or oaths, or vows or whatever?”

“My what?”

“Uh... Dragon code?” said Spike, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous claw. “Y’know, your personal set of moral, ethical guidelines that you live by and never ever break? ‘If somepony does you a favour, repay them with something of equal or greater value,’ that sort of thing?”

He got a very strange look at that. A kind of cross between utter bewilderment and mild disgust. “Why would any dragon assume such a burden? Why would I have my freedom to satisfy my desires hamstrung by an arbitrary rule for the sake of no judge but myself?” And then, suddenly confusion vanished as though it were wiped clean from his face, replaced with comprehension and he turned to Rainbow Dash. “A young dragon lives among you. You fear him. You bind him to such tenets to keep him under control,” he surmised.

“That’s not what happened,” seethed Spike, fists clenching at his sides.

“Yeah, and I don’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to,” retorted Rainbow Dash. Then she sat on her haunches and folded her forelegs. “That’s Rarity’s job.”

Scald looked at Spike. “Whatever rules they have you follow, reject them. Whatever codes they have you keep to, abandon them. Laws, tenets, doctrines... they are the cracks in the glass. They are not for you. Do you not understand your birthright? Your destiny, little kobold? It is a life of ease and fancy. Not one of toil and drudgery or completing menial tasks for those that are beneath you. You know no master but impulse and desire. Your actions have no limits and no repercussions. For you... there is only freedom!”

Spike had to shake his head to clear it. In spite of himself, in spite of everything he was, he was loathe to admit there was a building, involuntary fascination with Scald’s ideas. The notion that he, Spike, could be gifted with the ability to do anything he desired, without consequence was... intoxicating. It was like a whole new kind of greed.

“Okay, fine,” he said, not out-argued yet. “You say I’m a dragon, so I’m powerful and I can do anything I want? Well, what if I what I want to do with my ‘power,’ is help my friends? What then?” he challenged. “You got a problem with that?”

Again he got a strange look. “You are an odd one,” the dragon said. Then he shrugged. “If that is truly what fulfills you, so be it. You are making a choice to do so, not locked into a matrix of dependence as they are. And I for one do not care what you do, as long as it does not interfere with me.”

“Oh, really? Because in the past, other dragons have had a real problem with me being friends with ponies.”

“They were young? We are all guilty of impetuousness in our youth. Eventually you too will learn that the only thing that matters is self-satisfaction. Others’ proclivities are irrelevant.” Scald gave him a very direct look, then. “As for ‘being friends’ with them? You would do well see that lie for what it is sooner than later. Many immature dragons experiment with social bonds. Invariably they are soon grown out of. You heard me earlier: ‘friendship’ is a construct of reliance. The only path to strength is independence. You will learn the virtues of solitude one day. Harshly, if you return to that village,” he warned.

“Huh? Solitude? What... are you talking about?”

“You are a kobold, but you will grow into a dragon. Emphasis on ‘grow.’” He glanced at Dash with a sneer. “Their kind may accommodate you now, but how long will they continue to tolerate your presence? Will they view you the same when you can no longer fit through their doors? Or when you can reach the tops of their trees? How about when a false step could crush one of their homes?” He shook his head pointedly. “They will come to fear you. It will be subtle at first, but gradually you will be ostracised; where once you enjoyed a bed your size will force you to find the shelter of a nearby cave to sleep in. Then you will need a larger cave, further away. Eventually you will lose all ties... and they will be glad to be rid of you. But then remember, you are a dragon. The world is your playground.”

Spike found himself stunned. The retort he’d been preparing dying in his throat, a little chill running down the back of his neck.

“Hey! You don’t know what you’re talking about! That won’t happen!” yelled Dash, but even as she said it, Spike knew it wasn’t true. He turned to her slowly, with a crestfallen expression.

“Yeah it will. One day,” he said softly to her. “Maybe you won’t force me out, but when the time comes... when I’m a threat... I won’t let my friends live in fear of me.”

“However you care to rationalise it, it is the fate of us all,” said Scald. “I do not comprehend your sudden melancholy, little kobold. You are a dragon – or you will be. You should feel exhilarated! You will be strong. You will be powerful. You will be—!”

“Alone,” said Spike quietly.

As he said the word a cold, dreadful weight settled over him. Suddenly his whole, inevitable future as a dragon seemed to resolve into the sharpest focus. It was unlimited freedom. Unlimited power. Every action possible with no care given. It was everything he could possibly desire all his for the taking. And it was very, very lonely.

Just like Scald... and every other dragon.

Every other dragon except Ember. Suddenly there was another future drawing into focus just as clearly. The future that she was trying to create, and it was a whole lot brighter. There was friendship there. There was honour and loyalty and respect for everyone, dragon or pony. And it was a future that he wasn’t going to let die.

Scald might imagine that all dragons spent their lives alone. But Spike? He’d never been alone. Even from the very first moment he had hatched he had always been surrounded by those who loved and cared for him. Even when he’d made mistakes that had never changed. And as time had gone on, the number of those he could count on had only grown and grown. There were a great many ponies who cared about him; knew they could count on him; trusted him, and they ran the whole gamut from three young fillies, to very important princesses. And as he thought on this, he found a solid kernel of resolve form in the pit of his stomach, and the germ of an idea began to form.

Because there were other forms of strength than individual might. Scald might refuse to acknowledge them, but Spike knew better. Oh, he knew better. He had an almost impossible task, but there was a way. Oh, it was so impossibly risky. So indraconically stupid. It would never, ever work unless he had the complete and total trust of several people who didn’t even trust each other. But he trusted them. And they trusted him. It would work. He knew it.

Spike raised his head, fixed a low, unblinking frown, and put himself between Scald and Equestria, standing right at the cliff edge and meeting Scald’s stare with one of pure determination.

“You think you can do whatever you want just because you’re strong? That you can insult princesses, threaten villages and put my friends in cages and nothing will stop you? You’re wrong,” he growled. “And I’m gonna prove it.”

“Oh? And just what could stop me?” teased Scald with a confident smirk.

“Me. I’d stop you.”