Pony Peace is Dragon War (Diplomatic Dragon Noises Included)

by HapHazred

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Thorax, Ember, Slice of Life, Drama
Length: 12729

Dragons don't do peace well. They haven't had much practice at it. All Ember needs is to get what she wants from these ponies and leave. So why do they keep getting in her way?!

Ember is not a diplomat by choice. It sort of just comes along with being dragonlord, because who else are you going to send, Garble?

Ember doesn't do diplomacy, though. She does anger. And fire. Sometimes a bit of shouting. That doesn't go over well with ponies, though.

Luckily, Thorax is on hand to help out.

In, and out. Get the ponies to agree what she wants, and leave. That's all this has to be. So why is there so much paperwork?!

And why does she feel so angry?!

Takes place before the Series Finale, and after Triple Threat. Rated teen for gratuitous anger, mostly, and threat.

Editing help provided by Boltstrike58.

Written for the Imposing Sovereign's II contest.

Published 2019-11-09 21:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-11-09 21:00:02 UTC

Dragon Diplomacy

The city of Canterlot was, in many ways, anathema to dragons. Why wouldn’t it be? They lived in mountains, wastelands, the forgotten parts of the world, places filled with danger and darkness. They did not live in great hubs of civilisation. Historically speaking, hubs of civilisation tended to struggle with dragons being nearby and tended to relinquish their hub-ness to cities far better suited to the task; namely those many miles away from anything resembling a dragon. It said something about the new age Ember was trying to forge that not only was a dragon willingly attempting to exist in such a place without feeling the need to consistently set fire to the curtains and tapestries of the castle, but also that the dragon in question was the leader of all dragonkind.

If Torch were still in charge, there would definitely be some fire being thrown about. Hah, Ember figured it would improve the place. Spruce things up. Not even Ponyville looked so fragile, and the majority of things in that town were made of wood. Not a good plan. Wood was a famously flammable material and ergo not suitable for construction.

The castle courtyard was, for the most part, filled with predictably pastel flowers, pretty pale grey and chalk coloured statues of ponies and princesses, and colourful hedges. Okay. So far, so pony. Between the branches of carefully manicured trees, rainbow-coloured birds tweeted and danced. Not pony, but fit the general theme. She turned to her ‘diplomatic delegation’, which consisted of a single dragon twice her size acting as a bodyguard. It was generally best for Ember to do the actual ‘diplomacy’ herself.

“What’s on the agenda?” she asked.

Her bodyguard looked at her quizzically. He was a great champion of dragonkind, trained by her father, Torch, specifically to defend the mighty Dragon Lord himself and his future replacement, which was a thankless task as Torch tended to not only end fights himself (rendering any bodyguarding a redundant task on a good day), but oftentimes need to be held back from causing even more damage than any would-be aggressor by the bodyguard himself.

Ember forgot this particular guard’s name. In any case, it was a testament to his skill and generous musculature that he had been selected to guard ex-Dragon Lord Torch, and he was a dragon who, as much as she hated to admit it, could fold her in half and use her as paper for origami. Brains, however, were not his strongest suit.

“You mean, what are we gonna do?” he asked, tilting his head. “Or was you talking about… like, lady dragons and mister dragons? A...gendah?”

“The first one,” Ember told him. “What’s the plan? You have the agen— the list of things to do with you, right?”

“Yeah, sure!” the dragon said, and pulled out a small leaflet. “‘Course. Carry it with me always, yup. That’s me.”

“What’s on it?”

The dragon bodyguard spluttered, “Well, words, mostly! Some numbers. Look, there’s a picture...”

Ember snatched the papers from out of her bodyguard’s talons in a huff. Of course he couldn’t read. He was a dragon bodyguard. Brains need not apply, or be applied.

“Give those to me!” she snapped, nearly tearing the leaflet open as she held it. “Go and do something useful!”

“Set fire to the—”

“Set fire to nothing!” Ember roared, her fangs baring. “That is not pony diplomacy! Sit quietly near the statue over there!” She pointed at a statue of some mare in a big floppy hat and a cape. “Sit! I’m going to find someone useful! Thorax said he was going to be here and maybe he can help me more than you!”

Not one year ago, the bodyguard would have been highly praised for his skills and abilities. Now, in this place, he was barely adequate to carry bags. Well, that was perhaps a bit harsh. He could conceivably carry all the bags with his strength. All of them, all over Equestria, all at once.

She stomped towards the castle, eyeing the documents. “Mining rights?!” she exclaimed. “What are rights?!”

“Ember!” came a familiar voice.

Ember looked up across the courtyard to the main entrance to the castle. As expected, the changeling delegation were there early. Thorax, the one who had called to Ember, was offering the dragon princess a cheerful, if moderately nervous, wave. Ember grinned, happy to see her friend, then remembered her job as ruler of the dragons. She needed to be calm. Demure. Serene, even. That was what she had figured out.

She breathed in. It was not something she had had practice at.

“Thorax!” she said, keeping her voice level. Go through the regular social necessities, she thought to herself. “Lovely weather we’re having.” She extended her arms out in a rough T-pose. “I am prepared for a customary greeting hug.”

“Uh, yes, the pegasi do good work here!” Thorax said, flashing Ember a nervous smile. As Ember maintained the T-pose, Thorax mustered whatever courage (and coordination) was necessary to embrace a spiky, uncomfortably sharp dragon without unwanted side effects (such as angering the dragon or accidentally becoming impaled on the spines), and then gave Ember a warm hug free of any complications. He squeezed gently. “It’s such a relief to see someone who isn’t a miner or a pony ambassador! I’m a bit out of my depth, you know!”

Thorax, out of his depth? Shocking.

“Well don’t worry about it, I’m here now” Ember reassured the changeling king, deciding that the hug had gone on quite long enough. “Uh, lead me to the meeting room, would you?” she asked Thorax. “My diplomat couldn’t read a map even if he was here.”

Her bodyguard, still in the park, began to eye the birds in the park. At least he seemed amused. Ember just hoped he wouldn’t try to eat them.

Thorax looked surprised and nodded. “Oh, of course. I’ve been here a few times. Is this the first time you’ve come to Canterlot?”

“No, but they have a new meeting room every time I visit,” Ember complained. “How many rooms do you need?!” She sighed. “They’re also less tasty than in Princess Twilight’s castle … or were crystal rooms a Twilight thing? That would explain... a lot.” She stretched, preparing herself mentally for the struggle that awaited her. “Thanks for the help, anyway.” She looked down at Thorax and crossed her forearms. “Why are you here?”

“Well, the talk is about the regions on the border of the dragon territories… and my lands aren’t that far away from there. There are some relocation related things I need to discuss...” Thorax grinned apologetically. “Little bit of a mix of everything from missing resources to a very, very angry nest of basilisks that turned up scaring all the changeling hivelings away… So I’m here! Trying to make a good impression, ha ha.” He looked at Ember, eyes full of insecurity. “How am I doing? Am I doing well?!”

It was times like these that Ember thought it was best to offer some fashion of compliment. That was the diplomatic thing to do.

“Very compliant,” Ember told him. “What’s this about relocation?”

“Oh. Um, well, there’s too many changelings to really keep living properly, and to be honest most of them wanted to move away from the rather out-of-the-way territories anyway because of how little interaction they can get with other races… We’re here to try and convince the ponies to let a large number of them move into some of the lands on the frontier, as friends! It’ll be more complicated than that though. I was actually wondering...”

Ember raised her eyebrows, and waved her claw around, interrupting Thorax. “Sounds complicated. Well, hopefully there’s room for them in Equestria. Most of our place is filled with rocks and lava. Bad idea. Besides, we live there.” She shook her head. “And I’ve got my own problems. I’ve got heads to knock together back home. The dragons have been… really good lately. Barely burned any forests! It’s all the contact they’ve been having with ponies recently on the frontier, but recently the ponies have straight-up been leaving.”

Teach them a lesson.

Ember clenched her teeth.

Thorax looked at Ember, surprised. “Oh no, that’s awful! Why would they leave? Are they scared of the dragons?”

Ember growled, fury bubbling inside her, as if she were a kettle reaching the boil. “I don’t know! We didn’t destroy anything! Whatever it is, we didn’t do it.” She hissed her frustration away. “That’s why I said I’d turn up to the next meeting, but instead it’s about mining and stuff I don’t care about!” She growled. “I’m just here to tell the ponies to stop leaving and that’s it. I’m fed up with their constant whining and things they need done for them all the time. It’s always ‘stop burning this’, ‘don’t destroy that’, that kind of thing. Like, I know we’re trying to be better, but can’t a dragon have a hobby?”

“Um.” It was a statement, not the beginning of a helpful comment. Perhaps Thorax didn’t have any good advice to offer. Why would he? Changelings were perfect at fitting in. It was what they did. This wasn’t a problem Thorax would understand.

After finding their way through the labyrinthine mess of corridors and antechambers, stairways and rooms with lots and lots of stained glass windows, the changeling delegation, accompanied by a grumpy and frustrated Ember, went through the corridors of the castle.

A group of ponies, most of them well dressed and elegant, were positioned before a grand double-door to the meeting room. Ember always chuckled at how ponies dressed. She sometimes wondered if they wished they looked like dragons, and dressed in pretty jewels to imitate the gleaming armour of bright scales that adorned even the dullest of dragons.

“Greetings, King Thorax!” exclaimed one of the ponies. He looked up at Ember with more caution. “Milady Ember…”

“Hello,” Ember said. She rolled her eyes. The pony sounded like what a fruitcake would sound like, were a fruitcake able to talk. It was sweet and high pitched, pleasant even, but the words that were spoken contained raisins of irritation that ruined a perfectly good cake of a conversation. It was, despite how grating it might be to Ember’s ears, friendly however. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as she had originally thought. The ponies there seemed amicable enough, friendly, even. Ember liked friends. Despite her worst attributes, she believed in friendship, and the bonds of loyalty and optimism. It was why she believed, truly and strongly, in her leadership. Dragons had been crude brutes for centuries, and she was going to lead them into a better era, one where they could be whatever they wanted. At times, despite what they were.

“Yes, hello. Glad to have you here! We’ve been trying to get through to dragonkind for, well, months!”

“Why didn’t you visit?” Ember asked, becoming more confused already. Did they not know where she lived? “I didn’t hear anything about ponies coming to my lands.”

“We sent plenty of letters, though,” the pony objected. “I’m Sir Goldmine. These are ambassadors, Tact and Nitpick. Pleasure to meet you.”

“A pleasure!”

“Supreme delight!”

Ember smiled as best she could, but it was a temporary smile only. “Uh, yeah. Are you the ones that have been sending ponies away from the frontier?”

Sir Goldmine looked apologetic, holding his hoof out as if it had the ability to deflect criticism. “Perhaps we should wait until we’re in the meeting room for that. We can do this in a proper and orderly fashion.”

There could be no outburst, Ember reminded herself as she ground her teeth against one another. The little pony didn’t understand how much this meant to her and her dragons.

Claws at his throat.

“Yes that sounds great,” Ember said, pushing her thoughts, her inner thoughts to the back of her mind. ‘Proper and orderly’. Time-wasting and pompous, more like.

“It’s great to see you again,” Thorax said, talking to Sir Goldmine. “Your coat is lovely and pretty!”

“Thank you, King Thorax. Wonderful antlers.”

Ember suppressed a growl emerging from the depths of her throat, fueled by impatience and growing anticipation. This was going to take all day if they were going to stay on this carousel of condescending compliments.

Teeth in their legs.

Ember grit her teeth. “Right, can we finally get going? I’ve listened to titles all day and I’m sick of them.” She pointed at Thorax. “Aren’t you?”

Thorax gulped. Ember rubbed her talons across her nose. That was wrong. Whoops.

Slash!

“I mean… Now I’m fully acquainted… can we begin?”

“Ah, of course…” Sir Goldmine said, anxious. “We were hoping to discuss the matter of mining rights, particularly that of non-dragons, in the dragon territories.”

Ember folded her arms. “Why would you want to mine our gems and minerals?” She waved her claw. “Don’t you have your own?”

“Yes, but not on the frontier,” Tact replies.

“Frankly, the frontier towns aren’t turning as much of a profit anymore,” Ambassador Nitpick explained. “We were optimistic at the prospect of revitalising the mining and extraction landscape in that area by entering into a pact with the dragon territories.”

Ember eyed Thorax. Were those words? Thorax shrugged at Ember. She turned back to Nitpick.

“Uh, right.” She pointed her claw at the table. “Listen, dragons and giving up gemstones don’t mix. They’re ours. We don’t come and, I dunno, steal your hay or whatever.”

“Well it wouldn’t be theft, milady,” Sir Goldmine explained. “It would be a mutually beneficial partnership. You must agree that you have plenty of income to dispose of…”

“‘Income’ as you put it isn’t for ‘disposal’. Trash is disposed,” Ember said. “Gems and precious minerals are eaten and slept on, because they’re comfortable and delicious. Do you guys just, like ‘sell’ mattresses?!” she argued, mimicking air-quotes when she used the word ‘sell’.

“...yes?” Nitpick hazarded. “That’s how that works?”

Ember looked at Nitpick. “That’s so weird. You’re weird,” she said, pointing. “Why would a pony want to sleep on some stranger’s mattress?” She rested her fist on the table as she leaned in towards Nitpick, narrowing her eyes.

The assembled three ponies looked at Ember quizzically. It was Goldmine who recovered first.

“The matter of mattresses and their cultural significance aside, what else do you expect to buy things with? Gems and gold, I mean, not mattresses.”

Ember tapped the table, anxiety rising. Did they not understand what she was saying? “What’s ‘buying’?”

“Oh dear…” Ambassador Tact muttered.

Bite!

Ember held her arms up, exasperated and angry. “Why can’t you just tell your ponies to stop leaving the frontier? The dragons love those little guys. They’re so cute, and fluffy. You’ve got those, uh, paper things strapped together. Books. Pictures and stuff. It’s been great! There have been poetry competitions, art competitions… all kinds of competitions! It’s been awesome for the dragons!”

Goldmine sighed. “We simply can no longer afford it. Dragons are not… well, profitable.”

Burn him.

‘Profitable’. Another word Ember didn’t get. She looked to Thorax for help, this time pleadingly.

Thorax spoke up.

“The ponies are hoping for some kind of give-and-take here,” he explained. “They’d be happy to stay at the frontier, but there’s not that much dragons can do for them that makes it sensible for them to remain near the dragon lands. They want to have a reason to stay that matters to them… Is that right?”

Goldmine nodded. “Wonderfully put, your Highness. Thank you. All we want is a suitable exchange.”

Thorax smiled cheerfully, and looked over at Ember. He kept grinning, even as Ember’s scowl deepened.

Frustrating. They were making her look stupid.

“Is that what buying is?” Ember asked. “Someone wants something so we give up our treasure?!” She fumed at the concept. No wonder she had heard ponies complain about the economy. “You’re asking dragons to give up their hoards,” Ember told them. “Do you not know about dragons?”

Protect the hoard!

The hoard was Ember’s responsibility. As ruler of dragons, every dragon’s hoard was her responsibility, her duty to defend. Was she supposed to give it up for some books?

Torch wouldn’t.

That thought alone caused Ember to swallow. Of course Torch wouldn’t have. He was so bad at changing, the only way he was able to do anything novel at all was to give Ember the job. If she couldn’t break tradition, how could she expect any other dragon to do the same?

But was it right?

Chomp their legs.

Ember’s claws dug into the table, leaving vast canyons in the hard wood. Calm. Breathe. This wasn’t like getting angry at Spike… she couldn’t expect these strangers to just forgive her for being angry because they were friends… after all, they weren’t friends.

One minute, and she could turn this room into a battlefield. If she whistled, her bodyguard would fly in and turn every pony here into well-dressed candles. It would be simple. The easiest thing in the world...

It was because she could so easily do this that she knew she couldn’t, not under any circumstances. It was the one thing that could absolutely never happen. She couldn’t act the part of a dragon, not here, not now.

Be fire.

Become fury!

“No!” she roared, standing up.

The assembled ponies looked up at her. She froze. “I mean… Yes, I…”

Thorax opened his mouth once, then closed it again. Goldmine and the other two ponies appeared shocked, the full height of Ember displayed before them. She might be a tiny dragon, by dragon standards, but she was still three times the height of an average pony, and outrageously more dangerous.

“Maybe we could help if changelings offered trading rights on our land,” Thorax offered with an optimistic smile. “We have minerals we have no use for… and the extra trade would allow for changelings to learn even more about friendship and love!” He looked over at Ember. “In exchange, it might be good to have a promise of protection from dragons. After all, the frontier is pretty dangerous what with the bugbears… and hydras… and cockatrices and diamond dogs, and who knows what else, and dragons are famously fierce…”

Ember sat down.

Good friend.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t good even, having to look out for the Changelings. She hadn’t expected to have to promise anything to anyone… but at least it was to Thorax.

“Well, that’s certainly something that we can discuss…” Goldmine began. “Let’s go over some details, shall we?”

Ember was practically trembling as she sat in the corner of the dingy doughnut bar, just at the recollection of having come so tantalisingly close to losing her temper. She looked at a solitary doughnut she had ordered. The stupid thing didn’t even have mineral content. Did ponies eat this kind of thing? Was there a crystal version?

She wouldn’t scream or shout or throw a tantrum, not here. This wasn’t the dragon lands. She knew it wouldn’t work here. That didn’t mean it wasn’t in her nature, though.

“Tough day at the office, huh?”

Ember looked up at a pony who had walked over to her. A lunatic, probably. Why would an average pony come and talk to a dragon? A fearsome, violent, ruthless monster, according to pony legend?

Come to think of it, the pony in front of her was outrageously plain. It was like looking at the factory-line amalgamation of a hundred regular ponies, mashed together to create the ultimate forgettable disguise.

“Who are you?” Ember asked, eyeing the pony from over her milkshake.

“Oh, right! The disguise!” The pony sat down opposite Ember. “I’m called Average, but only out here! I’m not usually Average.” The pony smiled at Ember. “It’s me!”

“Uh…”

“Thorax!”

Ember tilted her head and leaned in. “You?” She snorted. “I guess you can look like whatever you want. Why the disguise?”

Thorax, or Average, or whatever he wanted to be called, let his head fall to the table. “Because it’s so stressful being Thorax sometimes!” he exclaimed. “You know, back before the invasion of Canterlot… I actually worked across the street. Undercover of course.”

Ember blinked slowly. “Of… course.”

Thorax leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. “Back when I was evil! Or… working for an evil changeling.” He chuckled nervously. “Heh, dark times!”

“I got it.”

“It’s just nice to be somewhere familiar,” Thorax said, leaning back. “You know?”

Ember knew.

“Not great in there, huh?” Thorax asked. “I guess it’s not really a dragon’s cup of tea…”

“No.” Ember leaned back, letting her spines sink into the chair, popping through the other side. “Dragons haven’t done peace in centuries. It… well, it sucks sometimes. Listening to the rules and regulations and rotten ramblings…”

“No peace at all, huh?” Thorax asked. “That’s pretty amazing. Don’t you get tired of fighting?”

“Of course not!” Ember growled. “You’re a dragon, right? Even the weak ones are dressed in practically impenetrable scales and can resist any kind of heat. Look at me!” she pointed at herself. “Dragons shooting fireballs at me isn’t dangerous! We don’t have weapons that hurt each other! Not seriously, at least.”

Thorax tapped his chin pensively. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that. How did you guys… fight each other, then?”

Ember shuddered. “We talked each other to death.”

Thorax widened his eyes. “What?”

“Yeah, we’d declare ‘peace’ on the enemy and try to discuss terms. It was always so painful that we’d go back to something more comfy and personal.”

“...like violence?”

“Yeah, like violence!” Ember punched her fist into her claw. “A good brawl! King of the hoard! Games, basically! Trying to scare the most ponies! Hah, I love scaring ponies.” She swallowed, noting Thorax’s nervous expression. “I mean, used to, when I was a dragonling. Ah, ha ha, no more scaring ponies for me.”

“That’s awful!”

Ember shrugged, then nodded. “Well, yeah. We weren’t… exactly accepted by the world. And torching all those pony settlements near our mountains never did make for…” Ember raised her two talons to make air-quotation marks. “…Good diplomacy.”

Thorax shook his head, looking amazed. “And you grew up like that?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But you love peace!” Thorax argued.

“I hate peace!” Ember retorted. “I just love what peace gets my people. We get to be part of something bigger instead of being big angry loners all the time! We can be whatever we want if we’re a part of the world instead of being shut out of it.” She tapped the side of her head. “Think whatever we want, too! Even if we also think the things we don’t want…”

Rage and roar!

Thorax whistled. “That’s so impressive, I’m jealous!”

Ember folded her arms, her enthusiasm and energy dying out. “Sure it is,” she muttered sarcastically. “I get to be the dragon that makes the ‘weak’ decisions all the time and shout twice as hard to remind them I’m not… and get thrown out if I do that to ponies like some kind of monster. It’s the worst sometimes.”

“I mean, you can choose who you want to be,” Thorax said. “I can only change my appearance. I could never change who I was.”

“You didn’t need to,” Ember argued. “Look, you brought the changelings back from the brink. You were born nice, right?”

“Yes, but that’s just it, you know? I’m not… always… sure that I could have changed if I was born… you know… Evil.” Thorax looked at the table despondently. “Even if it was good for my people, I don’t know if I could ever be mean or harsh.”

Ember leaned on her claw. “Well, maybe it would have been better if I was just ‘born’ better.”

“Better for who?”

“My people. Dragons.” Ember shrugged. “Dragons need an example. Hey, everyone needs an example, right? Doesn’t matter what I think so long as I get to be that example, give dragons the choice. It’s about the people first, yeah?” She pointed at Thorax. “For the both of us. So you keep being good and I need to also keep being good. At least… in public.”

Thorax pondered, and looked around at the doughnut shop. “You know, I come here to relax, because it’s familiar!”

“Yeah, you said.”

“What if we gave you something familiar to do so you could do to relax?”

Ember snorted. “Got any houses I can burn? ‘Cause ponies don’t like that. I learned that the hard way...”

“Maybe not that familiar…” Thorax tapped his chin. “Oh! You mentioned you scared ponies!”

“Yeah. I kinda do that by accident sometimes too. Again, learned the hard way.”

“You could scare me!”

Ember laughed, throwing her head back. Tears flowed from her eyes at the thought. “Like, what, every day is Nightmare... Warming’s… whatever it’s called?” She grinned. “Besides, I couldn’t scare you. It’d be embarrassing.”

“I promise I’ll be scared! I’m scared most of the time, anyway.” Thorax smiled, only showing mild embarrassment to his own statement. “You could… roar? Dragons do that. I’ve heard it’s pretty loud and intimidating!?”

“I am an excellent roarer. I got my roar from my dad.” Ember pursed her lips. “This is a dumb idea,” she went on, gradually losing conviction.

“...but it’s the only one we’ve got, right?”

“No way. It’s gonna be embarrassing.”

Thorax shrugged. “Okay, that’s fine.”

“Yeah.”

“...but you do know the diplomatic meetings last the whole week, right?”

“...”

“It’s on the agenda…”

“Where do we do this?”

Thorax’s diplomatic chambers were far nicer than Ember’s. Perhaps it was because changelings were easier to insure. Ember found this absurdly unfair. She couldn’t remember destroying Canterlot once, but the changelings had come pretty close!

“How are we doing this?” Ember asked.

“Well, let me change into something more comfortable first,” Thorax said, and in a flash of light he returned to his typical, far more antler-heavy self. “Ah, that’s better! You know, it even feels weird changing into other ponies these days. Feels dishonest, even when I just turn into a generic amalgamation of ponies...”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Ember tapped her foot on the ground. “None of your stupid spy changelings better go around telling ponies we’ve done this.”

“Of course not! That’d be, hah, pretty embarrassing, right?”

Kill him. Kill him now!

“But, screaming is therapeutic!” Thorax sat down. “I read about it once. Some ponies have ‘stress pillows’, and others enjoy screaming at the ocean! It’s good for their mental state!”

“Does the ocean scream back?”

“I’d be worried if it did... I think it just waves back.”

“You can get the ocean to wave by screaming at it?”

“Well it waves all the time…”

“Ugh.” Ember groaned. “I guess if ponies do it, then a dragon should be able to do it too, right?”

Thorax nodded, brushed himself down, and held his arms out in a rough T-shaped position. “I am prepared. Hit me with your most mighty roar! Oooh, it’s like horror night with Spike! I always get spooked the worst.”

Ember sighed, and let her arms hang loose at her sides. Thorax grinned. He appeared to be having fun. At least someone ought to.

It was true that she missed the familiar feeling of antagonism and open competition that surrounded the dragon lands. Knowing you could shout and roar and it wouldn’t make much difference was something Ember missed dearly. Here, a shout meant you had lost, anger meant you had lost control. That wasn’t what it was like at home. Home… It was so far away, it seemed. It was alien compared to the city of Canterlot. Utterly foreign.

It would be nice, she admitted, to let herself be herself, even if it was pretend.

She breathed in.

“...roar.”

She breathed out, disappointed at herself. That was weak. She buried her face in her claws, grateful no dragon had seen or heard that.

“Eek!” Thorax exclaimed. His face was contorted as if he had seen a ghost.

“Oh come on! That was pathetic!” Ember exclaimed. “A songbird could do better!”

“It was the quiet that was menacing! It took me by surprise,” Thorax told her, regaining his lost composure. “It’s fine, I can be braver!”

Ember rolled her eyes. He was as pathetic as her, it seemed.

“Rrr… Rhagh!” she attempted. She even waved her claws about for effect. It didn’t feel right now that Thorax was anticipating it. If she was able to take him by surprise…

“Ah!” Thorax squealed. “So threatening!”

Ember stomped her foot. “No it isn’t! You’re just… a wimp!”

“Ahh!”

Ember felt the rage bubble inside. Was he not taking her seriously?

Feed him his own antlers. Beetle-mandible… things?

Whatever they are.

“Stop screaming!” Ember shouted. This instruction, delivered loudly and angrily, did not have the anticipated effect.

Ember had had enough.

Scream.

Ember leaned in over Thorax and roared. It was long and loud and shook the entire room. Her teeth flashed before Thorax’s eyes as her pupils contracted to slits.

Thorax quivered, partly out of fear, whether real or pretend, and partly due to the volume vibrating his entire carapace.

When Ember ran out of breath, she panted. Looking at Thorax’s terrified expression, she immediately clenched.

She had messed up.

Good.

She had lost control. She should never lose control.

“I… I’m...” she began. She hadn’t meant to roar as loudly as that. It had just slipped out...

“N-no no,” Thorax said, coming to his senses. “That was magnificent! I had heard dragon roars were fearsome, but I didn’t expect them to be so… ah…” he rubbed his ears. “...painful. When does the ringing stop? Should I get earbuds?”

Ember’s mouth opened and closed, unsure where to go from there. “You’re not frightened?”

“Oh, no, I’m absolutely terrified, but it’s also rather exciting! Can you do louder?”

“Can I do louder?”

“Yes.”

Ember growled. Surely a second roar like that one couldn’t be hard…

She let the roar build up at the back of her throat, bubbling and building, as if it were water climbing the walls of a clogged pipe, and then once it had reached a bubbling point, let it explode out into a fearsome noise, a promise of violence and terror.

“Aaah! So scary!” Thorax exclaimed.

He’s not really frightened. Remind him what you are.

Ember felt the rage she felt at listening to Goldmine and Nitpick. She leaned in, and as she screamed into Thorax’s face, saliva and heat from her fire-breathing chest inundated the changeling king.

Fun.

“Ha ha!” Ember grinned. “Okay, I’m not looking for judgement here, I’m just spitballing... but is it possible we can do this whilst you look like Sir Goldmine?”

“Today we were going to discuss the matter of changeling identity verification,” Sir Goldmine began. “A controversial topic that I think is best to get out of the way sooner rather than later.”

Thorax nodded. “I think so too. Of course, I’m very much against strict versions of this idea that have been floated in the past. Changelings have always been able to change their shape and we don’t want to stop just because it makes some ponies uncomfortable.”

Ember leaned into her chair, slouching back somewhat. Thorax appeared more confident now than he did the night before, she noted. Perhaps he needed to get stuff out of his system too.

“Naturally we don’t want to impose any more restrictions than are necessary. Particularly, this is a matter of import in the matter of business and trade, as it’s vital that ponies know who they are dealing with at all times.”

“Yeah,” Ember butted in. “But it’s not just changelings that cheat and lie sometimes, right?”

Ambassador Nitpick nodded. “It is conceded that, as the matter of sub-legal activities are addressed by this table, those of flexible polymorphic abilities are admittedly not restricted, nor confined in any practical manner, to the act of fraudery bordering on and including criminality, as are those of static form not naturally predisposed to legal and lawful behaviour.”

“What that guy said,” Ember grunted with a dismissive wave.

“Um, thank you, Ember,” Thorax said. “I would be happy to consider and even agree upon restrictions to changelings on the condition these are fairly applied to ponies and dragons as well.”

“Don’t look at me,” Ember retorted. “Dragons don’t lie. Not our deal.”

You lie all the time.

Ember clenched her talons. Shut up, inner dragon! That was different. That was repressing, not lying. Totally different.

“That’s a fair demand,” Goldmine admitted. “Any restrictions must be fair. As we’re discussing the matter of rights pertaining to miners, prospecting, and extraction, we must ensure that the standards of identification are made equal on both sides of the border. Tact, may you draft up an initial agreement?”

Tact nodded, and began scribbling furiously.

“Uh, am I going to be a part of this?” Ember asked.

“Well, if it’s only fair…” Thorax muttered.

Ember narrowed her eyes. “Dragons don’t even have ID. We don’t need that in our lands. How are we supposed to prove who we are with paper and stuff?”

“Perhaps any dragon seeking to do business could acquire some form of identification, agreed upon by all three of our parties?” Goldmine suggested. “Would this limit the trouble this causes for your kind?”

Limits are meant to be broken.

“I…” Ember sighed, and then breathed in through her nostrils. She didn’t feel the need to shout as much as yesterday. Perhaps that whole ‘therapeutic screaming’ thing actually held some water as a concept. Besides, remembering seeing Goldmine’s face petrified in terror, even if it had actually been Thorax, made her feel less intimidated somehow. “Depending on the agreement, I think that should be okay. Some of my dragons are even getting… enthusiastic about this kind of thing.”

“Very good! We’ll have you review the agreement and provide amendments as appropriate. Do you have a dragon to send the documents to?”

Ember recalled that her bodyguard was, most likely, still sitting in the garden. She should tell him it was okay to move around a bit, even if realistically he could sit there for weeks on end.

“Uh, just send them to me. I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? They’re quite extensive.” Goldmine gestured towards Tact, who had already, through sheer speed of writing and likely decades of practice, had managed to draft up at least five-hundred pages already.

Burn them to ash.

Ember put her hands together, trying to suppress the horror she felt at seeing all those words.

“...yeah, send them to me.”

Make them choke on their own stupid paper!

Ember’s bodyguard leaned over her to observe the documents she was perusing. He couldn’t read them well, but it was the thought that counted.

“Those look a long time,” he said.

Ember grunted. “Yup. Sure would be good to have some kind of secretary.”

“I’ve heard of them,” the massive dragon said. “Big birds that live in the badlands. Long leggy things.”

Ember breathed in through her nostrils. “Those aren’t what I meant.”

“They is what I meant! I’ve been learnin’ about birds. I get taught ‘em by one of the ponies in their little town on the border.”

Ember was quiet for a moment. “Do you like birds, huh?”

“Yup. They’s pretty nice. But back when I was working for Torch, there weren’t not much time for birdwatching. Just fighting.”

Ember looked up at her bodyguard. “Remind me what your name was?”

“Grankertank.”

“Pretty name.”

“Nope!” Grankertank grinned a big, toothy grin, the sort sharks gave to seals that didn’t reach the lump of rock fast enough. “Is an ugly name to scare baddies!”

“Baddies, huh? Like who?” Ember asked.

“Like ‘em changelings. They’s baddies.”

“Now listen here…” Ember began, but stopped. At home, she would shout at Grankertank, or Garble, or whatever dragon had said something wrong, but for the first time she wondered… what example did that set? Was she supposed to be better than that?

Roar at him.

Ember growled. Not today.

“Changelings need talking to, that’s all. They’re not just baddies.”

“Oh. They’s like us? Mostly not-good, but not really?”

“Yeah, sure! Whatever...” Ember snorted, smoke billowing out her nostrils. “Whatever.”

“I see. Well, won’t set the changelings on fire then.”

“Good. Well… you can set Queen Chrysalis on fire.”

Grankertank grinned again, somehow wider than before. Smoke poured out from between his teeth. “Yeah. Got it.”

Ember looked back at her documents. The way Tact put together an agreement was driving her batty.

Tear it up.

One word at a time.

You don’t need paper agreements.

Ember scratched the sides of her head.

“I’m… going to go have a word with Thorax.”

“Oh, this is exciting! I had wondered if you’d want to go again,” Thorax exclaimed with unrestrained glee. The changeling king appeared to take far too much enjoyment in these therapeutic exercises. “I had even prepared some plates for you!”

Ember looked at the stack of plates with unenthused eyes. “Plates.”

“Yes!” Thorax levitated a plate in the air. “Sometimes, when I get really stressed… usually because I have to be assertive, or there’s a problem, or I’m worried, or it’s Tuesday... I just want to break something. Just…” He levitated the plate higher. “Just smash it on the ground! Like this!” He breathed in. “Aaaagh!”

“Isn’t that a waste of perfectly good plates?” Ember asked, catching the ceramic kitchenware before it hit the ground. “There must be something less… destructive. The point is to not destroy things, right?” She licked her teeth, the word ‘destroy’ seeming to hang in the air longer than it ought to. “Right?”

“Well, I don’t tell ponies I smash plates when I’m stressed…” Thorax admitted. “I don’t want to look like I’m some kind of… plate hater. But it does get the stress out! Today, when the matter of identification came up…” Thorax shuddered. “That’s not a pleasant matter for changelings… And I don’t always know what to say.”

“Right.”

“I mean, what am I supposed to tell ponies? That we’d like to still be able to shapeshift into whatever, whoever we want, just because we’ve always been able to? If it were up to me, we’d all just be accepted for who we were, and not change shape at all, but… Not every changeling thinks that, or would be able to live that way.” He sighed. “Sometimes I think I might be too idealistic by nature to be a king.”

Ember punched her palm with her fist. “Remember, changelings are just like dragons! We’re both monsters to ponies. If we wanted, we could do anything and nopony could stop us.” She pointed at Thorax. “It’s up to us to be better than that so we can be a part of the world too!”

Thorax tilted his head. “I suppose you’re not wrong. It’s just hard to overcome, well, who I am. I‘m not sure I have it in me to be mean.”

“Well, being nice is kinda the hard part, so whether you’re overcoming yourself or not… you’re doing it better than I am, right?” Ember declared. “Trust me, you have it easy. Just keep on being you.”

Thorax sighed, and looked at Ember for what felt to be a long time. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. So stop being so mopey.” Ember folded her arms. “Listen, I just came to shout loudly here, so can we quit all this deep talk and get to screaming?”

Thorax nodded. “Of course. We can graduate to smashing plates another time,” he said, and levitated his stack of plates away. “I await thy screaming, dragon lord! Should I look like somepony else?”

“Can you be five hundred pieces of paper?”

“Um, okay then!”

Ember pictured the stack of five hundred pages as being at the bottom of her lungs… and then no longer needed to. She remembered Tact and his stupid quill scribbling away in front of her. Tact, the documents, the meetings... Yeah. Scream at it all.

Be a dragon.

The room, the wing, the castle as a whole shook as five-hundred pages worth of repressed rage and frustration were set loose upon the foundations and mortar of Canterlot. Plaster dropped from the ceiling in a fine powder.

“Eek!” declared Thorax, dutifully letting known his terror to the world.

Satisfaction welled up in Ember’s heart.

Let it roar.

She breathed in, and this time, when she roared, plumes of bright violet flame licked past her fangs, escaping despite Ember’s best efforts, yet harmless nonetheless.

“Aah!”

Just let it roar!

Ember breathed in again, sucking the air through her throat and down into the bottom of her chest, pressure within her building as she readied to release it loudly and violently. Her chords vibrated as she prepared for another one.

As the last burst of extreme volume exploded out of her, the doors to Thorax’s chambers opened with a slam. Two changeling bodyguards entered the room rapidly, horns glowing.

Ember’s roar petered out from a ‘rhaaarwrgh’ to something more closely resembling an ‘aarhheehheeeeeek’. Thorax however was already mid-eek, perfectly prepared for the unexpected situation at hand.

“Is everything all right, your highness?!” one of the changelings asked.

“Ragh!” Ember exclaimed, picking up a plate in her claw. “Get out!”

The plate sailed over the changeling bodyguard’s head. “B-but!”

“Nothing to see here!” Thorax exclaimed, catching his breath. “Just… roleplaying! Nothing embarrassing!”

No witnesses.

“Don’t call it... that, ever again!” Ember screeched at Thorax, repressing the urge to transform into a flurry of talons as best she could, and opened her jaws to the changeling guards. “I will set you on fire! Get lost!”

The changeling guards were sworn to protect their highness, and they would. However, they decided that they could do so strategically from a distance away, in a different room, ensuring that no further threats could enter the chamber. Yes. That was wise.

The changelings rushed back out the door, slamming it shut behind them. Ember buried her head in her claws.

Thorax patted her on the back. “Well, I think you did very well!”

“I nearly turned them into candles!”

“‘Nearly’ is why you did well!”

It was the final day of the meet, and hopefully the day when Ember could sign whatever piece of stupid paper the ponies handed her and she could go back home. On her way to the meeting room, she passed Grankertank, who was hunched over a tiny book.

“I didn’t know you could read,” Ember commented brusquely.

“I’m learning!”

“About time,” Ember grunted. “Let me know how it goes so I can send you drafts of stuff.”

“I’d close the window!”

...what?

Ember brushed that particular breakdown in communication away and entered the meeting chamber. Thorax and the ponies were already inside. Ember flashed the two changeling bodyguards an intense stare, one that, had it been translated into dialogue, would communicate something along the lines of ‘if you open your mouths about that night at any point in your lives, I will know, and I will strangle you with your own wings’, and delivered with the appropriate vitriol.

“Good morning, dragon lord Ember,” Sir Goldmine said, smiling warmly at the dragon princess. Ember managed a wan smile back. It was fake, of course, not to be taken seriously, but wearing a smile was like wearing a helmet before going into battle. It was just sensible.

This week had been long, difficult, and boring. It was a painful, jarring reminder as to why dragons had abandoned the whole ‘peace’ thing centuries ago. The things Ember put herself through for the benefit of her people would have made her a saint by any other race’s standards.

“Might we get started?” she asked, mustering her complete diplomatic powers, her final form of flattery and friendliness. She sent Sir Goldmine a smile, a proper one too, not one that displayed the full, razor-sharp display of fangs that a dragon would tend to sport. She even remembered to crease the corners of her eyes to make it seem extra-authentic. It was a smile that said, hey, how’s it going, wanna do diplomacy? Quickly, please?

“Of course. I trust you read through the second draft of the agreement?”

Ember had. It had been… an ordeal. A harrowing, a hell even, possibly a whole new circle thereof! Somehow Ember’s amendments (which had generally amounted to putting up legal safeguards upon dragon treasure, which was a serious issue, even for Ember who was considerably less greedy than the average dragon) had managed to double the agreement’s size after Tact edited them into the document, which had been the complete opposite of what Ember had wanted to happen.

Good thing it was over now. Ember could breathe a sigh of relief at having escaped this week-long torture alive.

“Yes, the amendments were found to be satisfactory. Is there any… last… item on the agenda that needs to be addressed?”

“Only one brought up by King Thorax himself regarding the resettlement of some changeling hives into foreign territory,” Ambassador Tact told her.

“I guess that’s got nothing to do with dragonkind?” Ember said. “Please go ahead. I’ll just sit here quietly.” She closed her eyes. Maybe she could nap through this bit?

Thorax breathed in, clearly halfway between nervous and excited to be the centre of attention. “Thank you, everyone. This meet has been very supportive of changeling needs so far. Unfortunately the matter here is quite delicate for us, since it involves such a large amount of changelings… I normally wouldn’t bring this up, but we’ve been driven into a corner by a series of earthquakes...”

“I saw the numbers of changelings involved,” Sir Goldmine said, peering at one of the many documents in front of him. “It’s… well, considerable.”

“Too many for the frontier villages on the border to house and provide jobs and places for, I’m afraid to say,” Ambassador Tact said. “Would it be acceptable to look at regions further inside Equestria?”

“There is… always Solitary Mountain.” Sir Goldmine had hesitated before he brought it up, and for good reason. Ember twitched as she heard the name, and sat up straight.

“That’s a dragon mountain.” She scoffed. “Wait, you want to consider moving changelings into dragon lands? I said that was a bad idea.”

Thorax looked at Ember. “Why not?”

“Because… we’re dragons. We’re not exactly… going to be good with changelings.” Ember folded her arms. “And we can’t take care of changelings all the time. Dragon lands are dangerous. There’s lava and fire and chimeras and boiling oceans, geysers and… It’d be hard enough to take care of them when they’re somewhere safe, as we had previously agreed!”

“I’m aware the weather isn’t as carefully maintained as Equestria’s,” Thorax said. “But didn’t changelings and dragonkind swear a pact of friendship?”

Ember poked at the table with her claw. “Don’t go bringing that up now, this is serious!” She scowled. “The dragons on Solitary Mountain are old. The treasure there is some of the most valuable in our entire lands. It’s not somewhere you just move into, like you’re… cave-sharing!”

“Well,” Thorax muttered, “I suppose we could look at moving my people elsewhere in Equestria, but…”

Goldmine raised an eyebrow. “But what?”

“But nothing,” Ember snapped. “I’m sorry but it won’t work. No buts and no arguing!”

Thorax bit his lip, mustering courage. “...but if we move further inland, then we won’t be able to support the mining agreements we had earlier hoped to partake in.”

“I see the problem,” Goldmine said. “No changelings to trade with means it’ll be almost impossible to maintain a trade and mining agreement.” He looked at Ambassadors Tact and Nitpick. “That bodes ill for the frontier towns…”

How dare they!

“Hey, hey, hey, wait a sec’...” Ember began. This wasn’t what she had wanted. “You’re going back on your word? We agreed the frontier towns would have jobs and they’d stay in contact with the dragons!”

“There isn’t a word to go back on yet,” Thorax reminded Ember. “The agreement isn’t finished, and if we’re unable to maintain a changeling population, then I’m afraid there’s not much I’m at liberty to agree to…” He looked over at Goldmine. “But if it’s helpful, we’d still be happy to have mining agreements occur further north, where we still maintain a population near the Crystal Empire.”

“That’s miles away from the dragon lands!” Ember roared, standing up suddenly. “That’s not what I want!”

Remind him what you can do!

Ember felt anger welling up inside her once again. A whole week of faffing about, of talking and wasting time, of listening to these trivial little concerns and reading their stupid, fragile pieces of paper, thrown away because Thorax wanted to?!

This. This was why dragons didn’t do pony-peace.

She snarled. Thorax had spent the past week being frightened of Ember. Why was that going to change just because he was in public? Ember flashed her teeth at the changeling. She let her anger surface, just once, because she could. She was a dragon, and not even Thorax could forget it!

Don’t let him!

She wouldn’t have it!

He can’t win!

Her claws grinded against the table. This wouldn’t end this way, she would make him back down.

Make him scream! Make him Pay!

“Don’t make me angry!” she snarled viciously, pouring every ounce of rage she had into her words. “You know that’s a bad idea.” Flames oozed between her teeth, and the temperature in the room raised several degrees. Goldmine, Tact, and Nitpick all flinched, backing away.

The only one who didn’t show any fear was the one who she had desperately wanted to scare.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Thorax declared matter-of-factly, for once unphased, “but this is a matter that means a lot to the changeling people and, frankly, if give-and-take is something the dragons are not prepared to engage in, then I’m not sure that the bonds of friendship they swore to means much at all.”

Tear him apart!

No!

Dragons don’t back down!

Ember clutched her arm with her claw in an attempt to hold herself back.

No!

“No!” she shouted, losing volume.

No? You want to be a loser?

Control. She needed control. Losing control was something Torch would have done. Ember needed control, she couldn’t give it up because of Thorax’s position.

Curse that changeling! He was better at this that she was! This was war for Ember, but for Thorax, this was exactly where he wanted to be.

Where could Ember run to now?

“...that wasn’t what I meant,” she hissed through her fangs. “A dragon’s word is forever.”

Yes. That was the image she needed to project to her people, and to the ponies. Be better. Be in control! For five… more… minutes…

“...Take the mountain.” She pointed at Tact, who was hovering further away from Ember as he had been previously. “You! Write it down. Write it!”

Before she changed her mind…

Don’t let them win!

Ember forced herself to sit down, picking up the chair she hadn’t even noticed she had knocked over.

“Are you sure…” Tact began.

“What did I just say?!” Ember snarled. “The changelings can move to Solitary Mountain. I’ll have Garble scout locations.”

Ember eyed Thorax. Why was he so brave all of a sudden?

Oh, of course. He had just been pretending before. He hadn’t even been subtle. Why would a changeling king who had stood up to his own people be frightened of one small dragon who was struggling just to be composed in a meeting? ‘Eek’, indeed.

What a pathetic creature he must think her to be, to con herself into thinking he had been scared of her just because he had suggested it.

You’ll listen to yourself. Soon...

The meeting was ended. The final draft had been signed. To Ember it had all been a daze. She felt thoroughly defeated. She had come here to get ponies to stop their exodus of the frontier, and yes, she had gotten them to… but at the cost of yielding to every single demand they had proposed, assisted by that treasonous bug, King Thorax.

“Grankertank!” she shouted.

There was a whoosh of air as the massive, muscular titan of a dragon stormed through the corridors, before halting before his lady immediately.

“I have arrived, because… I am here!”

“Come with me,” she ordered. “I want to have a word with my ‘friend’, Thorax!”

Grankertank nodded, and threw his book away. This was talk he was used to, trained for, bred for.

Ember marched up to the changeling delegation. She stood her ground before them.

Threaten!

“What was that about? Were you planning that from the beginning?!”

Thorax hesitated, his mouth open as he attempted to come up with a good excuse. “Well I… I didn’t know… ”

“Don’t even start!” Ember roared, cutting him off. “I’ve changed my mind! No excuses!”

“But I…”

“It was on the agenda!” Ember waved the leaflet around her head. “Of course you planned it from the start!”

“Well, I mean…”

“What was all that about ‘getting me relaxed’, then? ‘Therapeutic’ nonsense? Is that even real?”

Make you weak!

“Of course it was real! And it wasn’t you!” Thorax stammered. “It was… me.”

The changeling guards both looked at one another.

“I knew I needed to get you to let changelings move onto the Solitary Mountain,” Thorax explained. “It was the only viable location for miles around! I… knew that. I knew I needed you on board, but… You would say no. You said it was a bad idea...”

“I know that already!”

“...I knew you’d shout and be angry,” Thorax went on. “And I didn’t know if I was brave enough to stand up to you if you got angry. So… I decided to practice being brave.”

Changeling manipulations!

“You used me like a tool!” Ember growled.

“...Yes.”

“Used me and threw me away!” The changelings adjusted their uniforms awkwardly. Ember glared at them. “What are you staring at? Never seen a tool before? Like a hammer?”

The changelings froze.

“Wanna be a nail?!”

The changelings shook their heads with desperate, fearful twists.

“But it’s all for the best!” Thorax went on. “You did get to relax, didn’t you? It helped, right?”

Hurt him!

Ember was a unique dragon. She thought differently. Grankertank could do more damage, physically, but Ember had learned enough from ponies and Thorax to be able to wreak havoc in other ways.

“Manipulating like that is what I should have expected,” she snarled. “You didn’t even need to change your face to do it. Ha, you’re better than I thought!”

Thorax flinched. “Y-yes. I acted just like how ponies think changelings should act.” He steeled himself and held Ember’s gaze. “You have no idea how hard that was for me! This probably won’t mean much to you, but it was you who gave me the strength to overcome myself.” He gestured towards his guard. “How could I ever expect to be a role model to changelings if I can’t prove I can do the same thing you did?!”

Tears welled up in Thorax’s eyes.

Pathetic.

How dare he put this on her? How dare he? Blame pragmatism, blame the ponies, blame himself, sure, but her?

He wanted to be like her? ‘Overcome himself’? What garbage!

“You want to be like me?!” Ember roared. “Well then, let me show you who I am!” She reared up, flames pouring from her mouth. “Ready for some dragon diplomacy?!”

“Why’d you have to go and make her angry, boss?” one of the changeling guards asked. “I was two years to retirement.”

“Ah!” Thorax began, holding his hoof up. “But… first let me show you some changeling conflict-resolution!”

“This better be good!” Ember snarled. “You’ve got five seconds before you’re toast, Thorax!”

Poof!

In a blink of the eye, and a puff of magical greenish smoke, Thorax vanished, teleported who-knows where. His guards both looked at one another, nodded in mutual silent agreement, and teleported themselves as well.

“Oh, you didn’t!” Ember screamed.

The gardens of Canterlot, at midday, was an anti-climactic place to throw a temper tantrum. Still, Ember tried her hardest. She had a weeks worth of frustration to work out and no outlet.

Explode!

Ponies had cordoned off the area until the danger passed. Thus far it had failed to do so. From her balcony, Celestia herself was observing the display with faint interest.

“Ran away! The coward teleported away from me!” Ember punched one of the statues, sending its head flying clean off. “How dare he! When I find him, oooh, I’m going to…”

Grankertank was sat on one of the benches, quietly reading his book, slowly. Ember growled. Was he not taking her seriously?

“Put that dumb thing down,” she snarled. “This is more important than a stupid book!”

Grankertank looked at Ember, confused. “But you always say it’s important to like things other than fighting and being angry…”

“Not when I’m angry!” She roared. “I liked Thorax! He wasn’t the worst, and now he is!”

“...should I be angry then?”

“We said we were going to be friends! That was the deal. Friends don’t manipulate each other like that!”

Swear revenge!

“Oh, shut up!” Ember snapped.

“I didn’t say anything…” Grankertank muttered.

“Not you, you big dumb…” Ember raised her claw, and then stopped.

Control!

Let go!

Thorax had manipulated her for the sake of his people. The least Ember could do was not be furious for the sake of hers.

“Pick your book up,” Ember instructed.

Control.

Ha ha! Rubble and ruin!

“Get my armour! I’m declaring dragon peace on Thorax!” She screeched. Many ponies backed away.

Control!

“No!”

Grankertank looked at Ember, and then off to the side. “I’m confused.”

Ember’s talons scratched against the cobblestones of the park. She stomped to a nearby fountain, panting for breath. Why was she so angry?

She looked down at her reflection. Her face was twisted in anger. Was this what she had become, or always been? Just another angry dragon with delusions of being better?

Yes.

Right now she was the dumb brute she wanted to spare her people. Her pupils contracted, and at last, for the first time in years, the true berserk fury of the dragons took over.

Fire erupted from her mouth, soaring up in a plume that stretched up above the towers of Canterlot. Greed wasn’t the only weakness of the dragons. Anger was a valid substitute.

All dragons had a part of them that was larger than life. Ember now knew what hers was.

Rage! She was fire and claws!

She was the monster, the lord of terror! Wings of ruin riding the winds of defeat!

She was a dragon, kings of fear, lords of all they survey! Lion among lions!

Thorax would pay for embarrassing her! For defeating her!

We can be better!

It was a new voice, this subconscious squeak in the crevasses of her mind.

Follow me!

She shrank as the voice stabbed her with weakness, and she stumbled out of the park. Ponies darted out of the way as fast as they could. Getting in Ember’s way right now would be like sitting in front of a tractor; pure stupidity.

She ambled, her vision red, through the streets until she came upon a store. With the ginger tips of her claws, she opened the door.

No fire! We have nearly ruined everything!

She snarled as she entered the shop, for a shop it was. A pony looked at her with wide, frightened eyes.

“...plates…” Ember growled, her voice trembling.

“Plates?”

“I need plates!”

“How many plates?!” the pony squealed.

“Yes!”

Quickly, a dozen plates appeared in front of Ember. She grabbed them in her claws and stumbled outside into the almost empty street.

“Aaaargh!” she roared.

Smash!

Ember felt the rage subside. The red in her eyes began to die.

“Arrrgh!”

Crash!

Her vision cleared…

“Graaagh!”

Smash!

She held the remaining plates above her head, and threw them with all her strength down to the ground. Into pieces they splintered, tiny and weak…

We’re more than anger.

Right… Be better…

Ember stomped over the pieces of ceramic with her scaled talons. What did that accomplish? Nothing. Anger was futile.

Anyone can be themselves.

We can be better than ourselves!

Ember felt herself calm, the world slowing down. No longer did it seem so maddening and confusing. It had become… well, still pretty confusing, but the clear sort of confusing, the kind of weird and unfamiliar that could be parsed if you only paid attention to it and tried. It was time to start figuring things out.

She was in a street. She had just smashed a lot of plates. Ponies were staring at her, frightened. Wow, that was a lot of smashed plates.

Huh.

Thorax was right, smashing plates was relaxing.

She breathed in. Get it under control. For good. No more halfsies.

Think. Reflect. That’s what a calm, intelligent pony would do. If she even just pretended to be smart, to be wise, there was a bigger chance of it being true than if she didn’t even try.

This week… she had been nothing but a big angry dragon. She had wanted to take without giving back. Why did she think a trade agreement and letting changelings move onto one of her mountains was a defeat? Just because the ponies and Thorax had wanted it?

She had been a stereotype of herself.

Be an example!

Yes. She’d be a good example. The best of dragonkind. That was what it meant to be Dragon Lord.

A Dragon Lord could do a lot of damage, but if Ember had anything to say about it, she could fix damage in equal amounts.

She went back into the shop. The ponies inside looked at the disaster Ember had left behind.

“Um, hello,” Ember said. “I would like to… buy those plates.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, but it looks like they’re broken,” the pony nervously pointed out.

“Yes, that’s why it’s for the best that I pay for them,” Ember went on, rubbing the bridge of her nose with the tips of her talons. Now was not the time for her to get what she wanted and have ponies be scared of her. Why was this so much effort? “How much? I insist,”

“F-fifty bits.”

Oh, snap. What were bits again?

“I don’t know what those are, but I have…” She pulled out a large diamond she had planned to have as a snack later. She sighed. What a waste. Would that pay for plates? What was a plate worth in gemstones? Did it even matter? “I have this. Will this cover the damage?”

The fear that had previously occupied the mind of the pony Ember was talking to had immediately been replaced by the overwhelming single-mindedness of opportunity. The diamond glinted in the noonlight. Each shimmer said ‘holy moley, I’m worth a lot of money!’

“That’s a done deal, miss dragon!”

Excellent. Fire number one extinguished.

Ember stepped outside, her claws crunching over the pieces of plate she had destroyed earlier. It was now Grankertank’s turn.

“Time to go to war,” she said.

Grankertank was standing in the park, hovering between conflicting orders Ember had delivered to him. When his princess arrived, he appeared relieved.

“Are we going to set fire to Thorax?” he asked.

“No. I want you to tell me about that book you were reading,” she said.

“But you said it was stupid,” Grankertank said.

“I know. But I was wrong. I’m stupid,” Ember told him, holding her arms up.

Grankertank nodded. “Oh. I understand. I’m stupid sometimes too, but I try not to let that stop me from learning.” He picked the book up. “It’s work sometimes, though.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ember sighed. “Well, what’s it about?”

“It’s called The Princess, by Marechiavelli.”

Ember frowned. “Is that about birds?”

“I don’t think so. When I picked it up I couldn’t figure out what the title meant, but since I was learning to read, I figured that was a good thing… I’m still figuring out some of the words. It’s pretty interesting though! It’s about makin’ things happen using your head and efficks and stuff. Head-stuff used to be my specialty. Best headbutt in the dragon lands, once. Knocked Torch himself out cold once! Compared to that, I reckon this book’ll be easy.” He grinned. “I figured you’d be proud of me for trying, at least…”

“Right. Okay.” Ember clicked her tongue. “I’m not sure I understood any of that except the story about you headbutting my dad, which I’m not sure I approve of, and frankly I want to headbutt you right back reclaim the honour my dad lost, but it sounds... interesting. Good for you, Granker! Keep it up.”

“Will do, your highness!” Grankertank grinned. “I also wouldn’t headbutt me, your highness. I got a thick ‘un.”

“Don’t tempt me. But now, I need your muscles,” Ember said. “Thorax lives up by the Crystal Empire. The train will leave in ten minutes. I need you to catch that train.”

Grankertank nodded, smiling with what could best be described as innocence. “Yeah. Okay. I’m great at catching things, no matter how hard they’re thrown.”

Solitary Mountain was, as its name suggested, fairly lonesome. It stood tall over the other, lesser mountains, isolated by its own majesty. Wisps of cloud drifted around its many ridges and cliffs, and the risk of drops was omnipresent.

Fortunately for changelings, a race that came equipped with wings, falling was less a life-threatening prospect and more an embarrassing gaffe.

Thorax oversaw his people drift in like a cloud of colourful fog, each of them carrying a variety of personal belongings. Many had helpfully transformed into oxen or elephants in order to help carry luggage and items.

Thorax had not yet had the courage to face Ember since the meeting at Canterlot. No, instead he had found himself increasingly uneasy as he kept repeating that, no, he was fine, don’t worry. Why wouldn’t he be fine?

It was a lie, however, and the more he told it, the more he found himself feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. It reminded him of how he had felt for years.

He knew he had been right. He was fully aware that there was space on the mountain, that there was no real reason for his people to not be allowed to live alongside dragons as well as ponies, but nonetheless he felt conflict deep within him.

It was just like last time. Lies and justifications for doing bad things. ‘I had to’ was an excuse Thorax had repeated to himself over and over whilst Chrysalis was in charge.

He stared at the mountain, motionless, with vacant eyes. He towered over his fellow changelings not unlike the mountain itself hung above the hills surrounding it.

“You okay, boss?” asked one of his changelings, a little creature named Antenna.

“Of course!” Thorax said, lying. “I’m… fine. Everything is great! We get to live near the dragons, interact with them, and be even closer as friends! What’s not to love?”

“Very good point, your highness. Forget I said anything.”

Thorax pawed the ground.

“I’m going to go and be by myself for a bit…” he muttered, and with a buzz of his wings, he flew off.

Below him were an array of caves, doubtless the entrance to the ancient homes of the dragons that had settled there. Garble, a somewhat rougher dragon than Ember, had pointed the changelings towards vacant caves ripe for settling. In exchange, the changelings had offered food, books, games, and all manner of gifts to thank their hosts. The food had gone uneaten, of course, though many dragons seemed interested in the concept of ‘board games’. Turn based competition?

“It’s perfect…” Thorax muttered despondently. “Going great…”

“Thorax!”

The voice was instantly recognisable as being Ember’s. Thorax froze, and looked around for a place to hide. Positioning himself high in the air with no handy peaks to dart behind was a strategy that had done him no favours, however.

“Ah! Ember!” he whimpered. “Wh-what brings you here?”

“I have a bone to pick with you!”

“Which bone? Just the one?” Thorax asked.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” Ember growled. She came from above, exiting a region of cloud at high speeds, wind whistling over the edges of her powerful leathery wings.

Thorax chuckled nervously. “P-pretend? How’d you know I’m pretending? I’m just like an evil changeling now!” he exclaimed.

Ember hovered in front of him, arms crossed. Thorax’s nervous chuckle evolved, gradually, into an insane giggle.

What the…?

“What are you talking about?”

“I-I’m a big mean liar now, aren’t I?” he cackled. “What if I can’t stop myself? I-I’m terrible at sensing lies, how do I know I’m not doing it right now?” He held his head in his hooves, his forked tongue flashing between his fangs. “Maybe I am fine and I’m lying to myself about feeling awful! Ha ha! What if I can’t stop? Ha ha ha!”

Ember looked at Thorax with a look of concern, then rubbed the bridge of her nose with her foreclaw and thumb. “Are… wow, you really shouldn’t try to be devious.”

“Devious? Me? Most honest changeling ever! I swear! Ha ha ha ha…”

Amazing. Ember stared at Thorax’s mad cackling, and the tears welling up in the poor thing’s eyes. The big goofball was so… outrageously… stupidly… pure of heart that he couldn’t even lie without going insane.

Was that even possible? It was pretty impressive, really. Most dragons and even a lot of ponies would lie and simply go ‘yeah, that was naughty, guess I shouldn’t do that again… Looking back it hadn’t even been that bad of a deception. Was he beating himself up over it that badly?

A glance at Thorax revealed that yes, yes he was. Was it smart? Probably not. Ember wasn’t sure that mattered to Thorax.

This would take hours of gentle coaxing, possibly all day, to reverse. A truly superdraconic effort of cajoling and understanding to heal. This was something that required pony tact. Twilight would know what to do. So would Spike, or really any of her friends from Ponyville...

It was too bad Ember didn’t have much of that. She sighed. “I came to apologise, not listen to this nonsense. Calm down or I’m going to slap you.”

Thorax continued his mad, self-deprecating laugh. “Hee hee! You can’t scare me anymore, remember! Because of what I did…”

Smack!

“Ah!” Thorax held his cheek, which had flushed bright red. “Oh, okay. I feel better now.”

“What the world was that?!”

“I don’t know! I just felt so awful! I acted just like everypony thinks changelings should act! Lying and manipulating and devious and... mean.” He looked down at Solitary Mountain. “I wanted so much. I wanted to prove that I could be the leader my people needed so bad, that I forgot to keep my own principles. I didn’t overcome myself like you… I just betrayed myself.”

“I know,” Ember said. “I feel bad too. I let my worst get in the way of being a good Dragon Lord too. Ha.” She chuckled. “I guess I didn’t really overcome anything in Canterlot. Just pretended I had repressed it and acted… like a real dragon.” She gestured at Solitary Mountain. “I was so focused on what I wanted that I never realised that this… was exactly what my people needed. To be a part of things, and other people’s lives. And then I let my anger at being tricked stop me from understanding what it was you wanted.”

Ember hung her arms at her side.

“Why does talking have to be so hard?” she asked.

“Because sometimes there are changelings like me who make it hard,” Thorax admitted. “I should have just been honest with my friend. I was stupid to think you wouldn’t understand.” He pointed towards the changelings below. “The truth is that a lot of ponies trust changelings now, but some of my people don’t… trust being trusted. I know I don’t! Ponies can be too nice for them. For a lot of us, they need somewhere less forgiving to exist. To learn how to be themselves at their own pace.”

“Well… I guess that’s something we can do for them,” Ember said. “The dragons here could use the social experience. I know I could.” She looked up at Thorax. “Listen, I never… never want to lose control to anger again. It goes against everything I want to display to my people. If you promise to help me, I’ll promise that you’ll never have to lie to me again. I’ll always try and understand.” She smiled. “If Grankertank can learn to read then I can learn to listen better.”

“I accept!” Thorax smiled broadly. “From now on, we’re not just friends. We shall have each others backs!”

“Yeah.” She threw her claw over Solitary Mountain. “In honour of this, I say we rename this big rock to something a bit more pleasant!”

“What about… Not-so-Solitary Mountain?”

Ember beamed. “We… can work on that name later!” she ambitiously declared, pumping her fist in the air. “Because that name is awful!”

“I only half agree, but all right!”

Ember smiled, and put her claws on her hips, glad to finally be done with this whole ordeal.

Garble had his poetry, Grankertank was learning to read, Smolder was attending a Friendship School… things were looking up for dragonkind. So long as Ember kept herself in check, there was nothing they couldn’t do! Dragons would be free of their warlike past at last.

If her own thoughts were of any indication, it would never be an easy path to walk.

“By the way,” Ember said. “I tried the plate thing.” She clicked her fingers. “Good call. Expensive, though. I had one of the guys figure out what sixty bits was worth.”

“Sixty… you’re not supposed to smash expensive plates!” Thorax held his hoof up. “I have them delivered to the hive in bulk…”

“Well, I think I’m going to stick to shouting for non-emergencies,” Ember told him. “Speaking of… This whole ‘apology’ thing has been pretty stressful. So, uh… When’s the next sesh?” Ember looked at Thorax with gleaming eyes. “Could you transform into Twilight? She made me read a book on Equestrian history once and I’ve never forgotten...”

“Of course! So long as you’ll give me a proper tour of the dragon lands! Especially the scary bits… I can’t wait to see a real game of King of the Hoard!”

“See? Ha, we’ll have you partake!” Ember told him, grinning. “Trust me, if you want to practice bravery, boy do we have some stuff for you!”

“But…”

“No buts!” Ember put her claw around Thorax’s shoulders and waved her other hand through the sky. “Push past the fear! Bottle those emotions right up!”

Thorax eyed her with a mixture constituting of two parts concern, and one part amazement. “...This is why you have anger problems…”

“What did you just say to me?!”

“Ah!”

“Ha! Knew you were still scared of me!” Ember cackled. “Come on, let’s check out our subjects' new home. Your changelings are going to love learning how to play fireball. It’s like buckball… but we got rid of the goals, the rules, and mostly just throw fireballs at one another.”

Fin

Author's Note

Howdy folks. New story up. It's written for FoME's Imposing Sovereigns II contest, with the prompt 'Ember; Peace'.

I've been catching up on MLP episodes and once I got to 'Triple Threat' I knew I wanted to do some stuff with Ember and Thorax; they're both adorable, and I like the 'they're both monsters playing nice' vibe.

12K words is a bit heavy for a one-shot, but, uh, here we are I guess...

Don't forget to like the story if you enjoyed it; and do comment below if you've got anything to say! I always like hearing from folks.

Good luck, and I hope to see you next time.