Our Little Brother, Spike

by Hope Caster

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Romance, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Garble, Smolder, Ember, Slice of Life
Length: 158666

Finding a whelp cold and alone after hatching season, Amber Ironscale brings the poor thing back to her cave and adopts him, giving him the name Heathspike, Spike for short. Her son, Garble, vows to be the best big brother he can be, no matter what.

When their mother brings home an abandoned purple hatchling, and introduces him as Spike, the newest member of their family, both Garble and Smolder are more than thrilled. Garble even vows to be the best big brother he can be for Spike, no matter what he does or fails to do.

Does he really need to act like a pony?

An alternate universe where Spike is raised by Garble's family.

Featured on 2/26/2020! Thank you everyone!

Edited by VoxAdam

Cover art drawn by Doodle-Mark

Old cover art Cover Art drawn by boskocomicartist for SpikeSmolder fan, used with the commissioner's permission.

Published 2020-02-26 13:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-03-17 13:11:47 UTC

Chapter 8: How a Real Dragon Gets a Gem

Spike dashed through the playpen following a line that his uncle had drawn. The older dragon thought it best to work on his nephew's speed and agility, as he was too small to start strength training. The hardest part of the exercise for Spike were the sharp turns. Sometimes he would trip and fall, other times he would slide off course.

“Keep low Spike,” His uncle would say if he slid too far on a turn. “It’s easier to control your sprints on all fours." He would advise when he tripped. "Remember, slide and turn your body before the turn, then speed up when you come out of it.”

Spike took the criticism in stride, doing his best to apply the fixes quickly. He managed to expertly drift on his last turn, before sprinting forward and tagging the tip of his uncle’s tail. Spike collapsed as he caught his breath.

“How fast was that?” The little whelp asked, looking up at his uncle.

“About three minutes and thirty seconds. Good job.”

There came several claps and cheers from afar, and Spike saw several dragonesses on a nearby cliffside watching him and his uncle.

“Uncle Smog, why are those dragons watching us?” Spike asked.

“It’s because they love watching whelps have fun,” Smog said, smiling at his nephew.

Spike instantly realized what his uncle was up to, recalling what his mother had told him in the cave. “Mama says I shouldn’t help you bait dragonesses.” He paused. “Uncle Smog, what does it mean to ‘bait a dragoness’?”

“It means that you help get one interested in me, because I have a Fire Ruby with your name on it if you do. And you don’t even have to do much, just have fun.”

Spike’s eyes lit up. “Deal!”

“I knew you’d see things my way. Now, let’s see if you can’t beat your time.” With that, Smog redrew the course, before glancing at the quarry. What he saw nearly made him chuckle. In the center of a small crowd stood Garble, as a large drake approached him and his friends. “It seems your brother landed himself in a bit of trouble."

Spike came to a sliding halt. “What kind of trouble?”

“I think he made another whelp mad.” He felt a tug at his tail, and saw Spike looking up at him, his little tail wagging and his arms outstretched. Smog lowered his head, allowing Spike to climb up for a better view.

“That drake looks bigger than him,” Spike commented.

“It’s likely his ego,” Smog said. “Your father and I got in plenty of similar scuffles when we were younger. They usually had to do with insults or girls. Think he’ll win?”

“Yeah! Garble’s the strongest dragon in the world, of course he'd win! Come on Garble!” Spike shouted, standing up on his tiptoes. He quickly lost his balance and fell onto his uncle’s snout.

“Careful there, Spike," Smog chided, as Spike climbed back up on his perch. Smog lowered his head closer to the ground. "Stay seated, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Spike did as he was told, now only bouncing in his seat.

In the quarry, Garble couldn’t hear his brother’s cheers. All he could do was brake out into a cold sweat as Arrow Firefang approached the group, each step he took shaking the very earth. Arrow stood a head taller than other whelps. He was a muck brown, his spines a toxic green, his eyes a burning red, and his fangs were a bright orange like fire, hence his name.

“What do you want?” Arrow asked. His voice could only be described as a talking chipmunk that spent the last half hour inhaling copious amounts of helium. There was no dragon in the land that had a higher voice than Arrow Firefang. No one dared laugh at him though, save for one, unfortunate whelp that had yet to know about Arrow's reputation for savagely beating those that mocked him.

The whelp fell to the ground in a fit of laughter, pounding the floor. When he finally was able to breathe, he said, “That’s your voice? You’re so big, I thought you would have had a-”

Arrow quickly grabbed the drake's tail and effortlessly yanked him into the air before slamming him on the ground. Arrow’s body pivoted, and the drake was brought over his shoulder and slammed into the ground once more. Feeling merciful, Arrow stopped there, leaving the drake to quietly whimper.

“Anyone else want to have a laugh? Anyone else think my voice is funny?!” He shouted, his voice only growing higher in pitch.

“No!”

“Not at all!”

“I wish I had your funny voice!” Prominence said. She felt a chill crawl up her spine as Arrow turned his gaze towards her. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like-!”

Arrow wasted no time tackling her, grabbing her shoulders, and slamming her into the ground a few times. “Any other comments!?” He shouted when he was satisfied with his attack. Every whelp had the wisdom to stay silent and shake their heads. “Good, now what is it?” Arrow asked, looking at Fume with a glare that could rip apart solid steel.

Having Arrow look down at him, Fume was regretting all his life choices. He took a step back before swallowing a growing lump in his throat. Considering that Arrow still had not forgiven him and his friends for their alleged thieving, perhaps he’d just signed Garble’s death warrant. “Garble wants to challenge you for your garnet,” He said in a quick whisper, before vanishing behind Clump.

Arrow’s gaze fell on Garble, who was on the cusp of running away. “You want my garnet?” Arrow asked.

Every fiber of his being wanted to say no. Unfortunately, he took one look at the blue dragon, bruised and struggling to stand like Spike and Smolder had been and said, “Yeah, and in a few minutes, it’s gonna be my garnet.” Garble threw two gems to the side while Arrow added his garnet to the pot. The silence was deafening as the two stared each other down. Whelps slowly surrounded them, waiting to see who would make the first move.

“You saw them take it,” Arrow finally said.

“Huh?”

“My emerald. I know your friends took it, and I know you stayed quiet about it. Honestly, what you did was worse.”

Garble felt an intense pain as Arrow’s fist collided with his gut. By some miracle, he managed to take the hit and keep himself standing. It was the second hit that broke his balance.

Ember winced as the red dragon was slugged across the face. She debated sneaking away while everyone else was distracted. Unfortunately, Spear and Fizzle made sure to keep nearby, glaring at her. Though not specifically stated, they were all waiting to see who would come out on top. The rule was clear in everyone’s mind: If Garble won, they’d leave Ember alone, but if he lost, then someone was getting her sapphire, and it wasn’t going to be her.

Garble stumbled backwards and narrowly dodged a third oncoming strike. He retaliated, punching Arrow twice. He attempted a third, but Arrow caught his fist.

Garble could only watch as his arm was bent back, before Arrow delivered an uppercut, sprawling him out on the ground. If Garble didn’t have any regrets about helping the dragon before, he did now. A shadow suddenly appeared over him, and he rolled to the side, avoiding a powerful stomp.

“Still got some fight in ya?!” Arrow shouted, his voice nearly bursting the crowd’s eardrums.

Garble gulped as he stared at the indent that Arrow had left in the ground. It was clear in Garble’s mind that this was the dumbest thing he’d ever done and would do in his life. Arrow lunged towards him, only for the drake to dodge once more. Dodging was all that he could do. Garble side stepped a strike and delivered a punch to the side of Arrow’s face, then a second, a third, and on the fourth punch, Arrow grabbed Garble’s arm. The bigger dragon turned and threw his opponent across the quarry.

Garble forced himself to stand when he finally came to a stop, only to see Arrow charging at him on all fours. It was too late to dodge, so Garble braced himself for impact. Garble managing to block the charge with his forearms, sliding back into a wall with a crash. Though he could feel his ears ringing, Garble could clearly hear the growing cheers as the crowd of whelps grew more interested in the fight. Specifically, for Arrow to decimate Garble. The only whelp in his corner was his little brother.

“Just one chance, that’s all he needs to win!” Spike said.

“I don’t know, Spike. That whelp looks like he can take a hit, or twenty.”

“Just wait, Garble’s gonna win,” Spike assured. His claws clenched, nearly digging into his uncle’s scalp.

With Arrow slowly approaching, Garble tried to think of a strategy, but all he could hear in his head were his friends' taunts. "Punch him hard!" Fizzle said. “Stomp on him!” He heard Clump shout. “Kick him in the stomach!” Spear cried. “Throw dirt in his eyes, show him how it feels!” He heard Fume say.

Arrow ignored the cries coming from the crowd, but not Garble. Thanks to Fume, gears began to turn in his head for the first time in his young life. He just needed to get away from the wall. If he could work Arrow into a frenzy, he would be able to outmaneuver him while his opponent sporadically attacked him. All he needed to do was make Arrow mad.

“You know,” Garble sniffed, “you actually have a really funny voice.” He didn’t see Arrow grab him, but before he knew it, he was being slammed into the wall repeatedly. If he were honest, mocking Arrow was the second dumbest thing he’d ever do in his life. Garble was not honest though, and so this was all according to plan. On the sixth slam, Garble grabbed his opponent’s arms and headbutted Arrow’s snout with all his might, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. He was released as Arrow held his snout while screaming obscenities, and wasted no time darting away. Before he knew it, he was halfway across the quarry.

“You’re dead Ironscale!” He heard Arrow screech. He turned around and saw the drake charging at him at full speed. Garble readied himself. Arrow leapt towards him and he dodged, rolling to the left. As he did, he used his claws to dig into the ground. Once he found his footing, Garble pivoted towards Arrow and, just as his opponent turned to face him, slung a clump of dirt and rocks. There was a loud cry as Arrow’s eyes clenched shut.

Spike’s eyes went wide, his body leaned forward and he whispered, “Now.”

Garble felt a sudden surge of strength. His eyes contracted into slits and he became like a savage beast. Hit after hit, blow after blow was delivered as Garble refused to give Arrow a single moment to recover. The crowd went silent at the sight of Garble on the offensive. He struck Arrow’s face thrice, his snout twice, his ribs twice and delivered one, final, powerful blow to Arrow’s gut. His opponent fell to the ground heaving.

Garble stood panting, exhaling fire every so often as he glared daggers into Arrow’s back. He heard a sharp gasp as Arrow finally took a breath before coughing. The drake tried to lift himself up, but his strength gave out, and he fell to his stomach, whimpering.

Spike’s cheers could be heard in Canterlot, Yakyakistan, and even in the Changeling Hive far, far to the east. He was so energetic that Smog had to hold him in his claws, just to make sure he didn’t fall. “I told you, I told you he’d win!”

“You did. Shows what I know!” Smog chuckled a bit. “The best part? That might be you someday, Heathspike.”

Spike’s face lit up at the mere thought of being as strong as his brother.

It took a moment for it to dawn on him, possibly because he couldn't believe he'd done it, but Garble had defeated Arrow. Through baited breaths, and with a tone that was less than kind, Garble said, “Arrow. About your voice. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Arrow’s face turned a deep red as his body shook. He wanted to retaliate, but all he could do was slink away to lick his wounds.

The adrenaline soon left his body, and Garble was hit with a sudden wave of pain and weariness. His entire body ached, his face especially hurt, and he desperately wanted someone maternal to give him a nuzzle. He couldn’t show it though, not yet. Picking up his garnet and taking a bite, Garble turned to his friends. “See? That’s how real a dragon gets a gem.” The silence was music to his ears. Their dumbfounded and terrified looks were works of art that he wished he could add to his hoard.

The crowd, his friends especially, looked back at Ember and her sapphire one last time before dispersing. ‘It probably has cooties on it,’ a few drakes murmured. ‘Sapphires suck anyway,’ a few others said. ‘She’d probably cry for her daddy if we took it,’ Fizzle added, not knowing she was the daughter of Dragon Lord Torch himself.

When they were alone, Garble approached Ember, who collected her sapphire. “Are you okay?” he weakly mumbled.

Drying her eyes of any lingering tears, Ember took one look at the drake, and instantly recognized him. He called her a scaredy-drake and defeated two frilled lava lizards three years ago. Ember looked down at her gem, and then back at Garble. ‘He saved me again.’ She bit her lip. ‘He defended me again.’ Her claw clenched tightly, leaving indents in the gem. ‘He made me look weak again.’ Her face twisted into a scowl.

“Oh, that's how it is,” Smog said with a chuckle, not seeing Ember’s growing anger. “I should have known there was a girl involved.”

Spike made a face and stuck out his tongue. “Bleh, how’s that?”

“You see Spike, sometimes when a drake does something stupid it’s to impress a cute girl.”

“But Garble’s too cool to like girls! Girls are gross,” Spike argued.

“I forget how young you are. Just wait a few years Spike, when you’re older, I’m more than certain you'll find a girl that catches your eye.” Smog was correct, a girl would catch his nephew’s eye. What he could not have foreseen was the girl being a pony.

Blaze also watched the scene unfold, smiling. She never expected Garble of all dragons to help her daughter. All she could think about was how good this was. If all went well, Ember could have someone to spar with, and Ember could in turn teach Garble how to use whatever was in that thick skull of his. Blaze’s hopes were dashed the moment Ember let out a roar and tackled Garble to the ground. The Lord Consort could only watch in horror as her daughter then punched him twice. She cursed under her breath and hung her head in shame as her claw covered her eyes.

Seeing Garble attacked, Spike was ready to run down and fight Ember himself to avenge his brother. It was only thanks to Smog pinching his nephew’s tail and lifting him up that kept Spike from doing anything brash. Spike could only thrash in the air for a few moments, before tiring himself out and going limp.

“Get it out of your system, Heathspike?”

“No! Maybe. Why did she do that!?” Spike huffed. “He just got done fighting Arrow, and she attacks him! She’s a cheater!”

“They might not have been fighting, Spike. It might be because Garble’s an Ironscale.”

“But dragons aren’t supposed to hate each other just because we’re part of a clan. Mama said so!”

“It’s not that. Ironscales have a habit of putting our foots in our mouths.” Spike gave his uncle a confused look. “We sometimes say the wrong things to the fairer sex.” Another look. “Dragonesses, Spike, I mean dragonesses. You’ll never know when you say something wrong, but a dragoness will let you know. At least we know that he’s your father’s son.” Another confused look. “Remind me to tell you how your parents’ first courting session went. How it actually went.”

Ember jumped off Garble before saying, through gritted teeth, “I had it handled. I didn’t need your help, boulderhead!” She huffed before using her tail to hit some dust onto the prone dragon.

Part of him wanted to fight and reclaim some of his pride, but Garble was done. He did not have the strength nor the resolve to keep fighting, even if she was smaller and weaker than him. As he began to pick himself up, and wiped the dust off him, the sapphire flew and hit his head. “What was that for?!”

“I didn’t care about the stupid sapphire; I just didn’t want those idiots to have their claws all over it!” With that, Ember left to go home while Blaze followed close behind.

Rolling his eyes, but picking up the sapphire, Garble made his way towards Spike and Smog. If nothing else, he and Spike could share a snack before going home to rest. One thing he knew for sure, if being punched was what helping others got him, this was the last time he'd helped anyone but Spike or Smolder.

For Blaze, it came as little surprise that her daughter was having a tantrum in the cave. She was throwing stones, punching stalagmites, and unleashing streams of fire into the air in a bid to vent her frustrations. Ember’s roars and shouts echoed off the walls, masking her mother’s movements as she entered. Was she upset that she’d thrown away her sapphire? No, it had to be something else.

“Ember Brightcrest, come here now,” Blaze demanded, taking a seat on the cave floor.

Ember stopped as her mother’s voice sliced through the air. She glared at the older dragon, before taking a seat before her, crossing her arms, inflating her cheeks, and scowling. She mumbled a question, which served only to get on Blaze’s last nerve.

“I have had enough of your attitude. I don’t want grumbling, Ember, you are to speak clearly.” Ember grumbled in defiance, turning her head away. Blaze’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not asking, Ember. Now look at me.”

The statement was soft, but Ember could feel the anger behind it. She did as she was told. “What did I do that was so bad?”

“Well, let’s review today’s events: You find a sapphire, and defend it with your young life after you declared that you could fight off anyone willing to try and take it, a move so foolish that I can only assume you heard your father say it. When you’re on the cusp of losing it, someone, who must have been sent by Bahamut himself, appears and you get to keep it. Is there anything I have misread regarding today’s little scuffle?”

“I wasn’t about to lose it.”

“Ember, don’t act like you had it handled.”

“What’s so bad about any of that?” Ember asked, standing in a feeble attempt to meet her mother’s eyes. “Dragons lose their gems all the time in fights! Dragons fight! That’s what everyone tells me!”

“Nothing is wrong with any of that. Everything there, except maybe the last part, is normal. I draw a line when you needlessly attack someone who helped you. What, in Tiamat’s name, possessed you to do such a thing?”

“I did it because I was about to win, and he stole it from me!” Ember said. That’s right, he’d stolen her victory.

“Ember, do not give me that excuse,” Blaze demanded. “I’ve been in fights, I’ve seen more of your father’s fights than I care to count; I know when someone is out of their depth. You were out of your depth. Why did you attack that whelp?”

“I don’t know,” Ember said, turning away from her mother. He’d acted like her father and defended her.

“Ember, I want an answer.”

“I don’t know!” Ember said defiantly. What was worse was that he’d proved her father right.

“Ember, why did you attack him?”

“Because he made me look weak!” Ember finally shouted. She began to breathe heavily as tears welled in her eyes. Then she began sobbing. “He proved dad right and I hate it, I hate him!” She sniffled for a moment. “I was winning when it started, but that jerk got back up and snuck up on me. I know I could have thought of something, so I didn’t give up. I even kept getting back up, just like dad says he does, but then that moron ruined it for me! He fights someone bigger than him and wins, and everyone left! And it wasn’t the first time either. Stupid Lava Lizards.”

Blaze let her face soften. Of course, it was Torch’s rhetoric. “Ember, I know your father can be overbearing, and boorish when voicing his concerns, but that’s just how he shows he cares. He worries about you.”

“Well, I hate it!” Ember shouted.

“I know. You shouldn’t let that cloud your judgment though. Ember, remember what I said about being smart?”

“I did what you said though! I knocked the drakes off balance, I used the enva-invia-inviro-I threw dirt at one and I let that one dragon smash into a wall! I still got hit though, and then he kept hitting me.”

“You fought strategically, and that was smart to an extent, but if you were really smart, you would have avoided the fight entirely. What did you do instead?”

“I flew through the canyon.”

“Exactly. Remember when I talked with your father this morning? I didn’t fight your father, nor did I try to play his little glaring game. I used my head and fought the battle on my terms, and presented the same choices to him in a slightly different light. What happened when I did that?”

“He let me go to the quarry.” Ember kicked a stone.

“Exactly. I know how hard it must be, little one,” Blaze leaned in and nuzzled her daughter, who was slowly calming down. “You’re going to be strong Ember, in your own way. You just need to be patient. When that day comes, your father’s going to see that.”

“I don’t wanna be patient, I want it to happen now.”

“Well, I have a way to help you be patient. You’re grounded for the next three days, and you’re going to apologize to that drake. After dinner, straight to bed.”

“Okay.” Ember said. At least she could take solace in the fact that her grounding was so short.

With that, Blaze waited for her mate to return to the cave. The sun went down, Ember was fed and went to sleep, and just as Blaze was about to nod off, Torch entered. He looked relieved to see her. After a long day of managing dragons, what Lord wouldn’t welcome the sight of their bride waiting for them at the mouth of their cave?

“My precious mate, how-” If looks could kill, Torch would have dropped dead the moment Blaze looked at him.

“You and I are going to have a talk regarding our daughter,” She said.

Their daughter? Torch couldn’t understand, why would they need to about Ember, unless something happened to her. Dread washed over him as his eyes went wide. He rushed past Blaze without saying a word, or slowing down as she called for him. What he saw nearly made him scream. His daughter, though sleeping soundly, was bruised. All over her torso, her cheek, and parts of her arms had welts. Someone had touched his little princess. His face twisted in anger and he quickly went outside so his roars wouldn’t wake Ember up, followed by an increasingly annoyed Blaze.

“I knew it!” He cried the moment he was far enough away. “I knew this would happen, I knew it and I let it happen. She’s too small to be let out of my sight! Well, I’m going to make sure no one touches her again! I’ll find the little bastard that struck her-”

“Enough Torch, this is your fault!”

“My fault? How is any of this my fault?” He asked, looking at Blaze as if she had declared that the sky was red and that day was night. He wanted to prevent this; he wanted their daughter safe, away from a quarry.

“You keep calling her weak and fragile and she-”

“She is!” Torch shouted, gesturing toward the cave. “Just look at her! One day out, and she’s covered in bruises! What is his name? I’ll make the runt regret the day he was hatched!” Oh, he would, he would find him, crush him, and string him up to serve as a warning. Yes, every whelp and dragon would know what would happen if they even thought about harming Ember.

“Like that would help,” His mate scoffed. “Torch listen to me. You need to understand that-”

He let his mate talk, but her words could not penetrate his skull. Blaze was always lecturing him about being protective, as if it were a bad thing. Why couldn’t she understand why he was doing it? Ember was their only child. She was so thin and tiny; he could easily see someone breaking her in two if she wasn’t careful. For some reason, Blaze was willing to let her take on a Roc. He needed to make her see reason, but he needed to be able to speak. Blaze showed no signs of stopping her lecture.

“Just let her go out more, if that’s too much, tell her that strength isn’t everything or better yet-”

But strength was everything in the Dragon Lands. The only reason they lived as good as they did, the only reason he had a mate that loved him, and had a little whelp to care for was because he was the strongest. Blaze just couldn’t understand that. He needed to get a word in, then he could make her see. Yet, she continued talking. She was lecturing the Dragon Lord. His frustration grew before he finally snapped, realizing that he was the Dragon Lord.

“I order you to be silent!” Torch shouted. And silent Blaze became, but Torch realized too late the grievous mistake he’d made. Other than breaking an unwritten law in using his Dragon Lord authority against his own mate, whom he vowed to cherish and respect until the day they parted on Earth, he’d dug himself a hole so deep, there was no chance that he could get out. He locked eyes with his mate, and gazed into the abyss. The abyss stared back.

That night, he slept outside the cave.

Author's Note

First and foremost, Special thanks to azrael2001 for the idea regarding Arrow's voice. Part of this chapter was influenced by a few comments shared last chapter, which started with his.

Next Chapter will feature less Garble and more Spike and Smolder. I think everyone can get behind that.

And finally, any thoughts and theories about who the pony Spike will meet and inevitably fall for? Leave a comment, I really want to hear your thoughts.

Chapter 29: Of Myths And Deities

“Give it back!” Jade cried out as she chased a group of boys on all fours.

At this time of year, running like that was tough on her paws, with thanks to the ashen earth having got churned into mud by the heavy rains of winter. Snow was a rare sight in the Dragonlands, with what little of it that fell showing a tendency to melt before it even landed on the ground. Instead, rainfall was the order of the day, sometimes for weeks on end, and with it would come the mud-slides, a hazard for the unwary dragon.

But Jade, like many children her age, didn’t have a problem with getting dirty, other than what her parents might say about it. Despite the risks, once the weather cleared up, the Dragonlands turned into a wonderland for children, all for one simple reason. The displacement of the soil opened up a fresh treasure trove of buried gems.

Sharing, however, was not exactly the dragon way. While the Feast of Fire was close at hand, Jade had preferred to try her luck out in the mud-fields, rather than win a story-telling contest.

She knew she should have eaten her gem the moment that she found it. But instead, she had wanted to save it, and perhaps share it with a certain drake she knew. As a result, now an extremely rude trio of whelps were tossing a rare breeze-emerald between them like a toy. She knew this game of keep-away all too well. They would try to tire her out until she gave up, and then they would brawl it out amongst themselves for the emerald.

There was only one flaw in their plan. Jade was a Spiketail, and they were nothing if not tenacious.

Spotting an opening as the gem again flew through the air, just a few feet away from her, she blew a trail of flame right at it. Impacted and obscured by the smoke, the breeze-emerald fell to the muddy ground with a clatter‘squelp’. Suddenly left without theira prize, the boys paused and scrambled for the jewel, giving Jade a chance to join the fray. Her plan was simple. Grab it, eat it, and run as if she were being chased by a Roc.

It was a wild struggle, and everybody got dirt on their scales. In the confusion, the gem got kicked out of the fray. Amongst her opponents, Javelin and Tuft were quickest to recover their wits and chase after it, with Jade herself not far behind, followed by Spear.

However, before anyone could reach the gem, a blur swooped down and grabbed it. Whelps clamored and looked about, trying to find the creature that had stolen their prize. They were rewarded, if that was the word, by what Jade thought of as an adorable little chirp of victory. Turning their attention to the sidelines, everyone saw the very drake she’d been looking for, a familiar purple whelp staring at them with a smirk on his face.

Spike held out an open hand, and the gem fell into his expectant claws, followed by a phoenix that landed upon his out-stretched arm.

“Good boy, Peewee,” Spike said, using his spare hand to toss a mouse into the air.

Peewee chirped happily, catching the rodent in his beak before gulping it down.

Spike had learned much regarding his friend in the last year. The phoenix was an omnivore, meaning a creature that could subsist on both meat and vegetation. Mountain mice were plentiful in these parts, so Peewee scarcely risked going hungry. Grandma Topaz would be mindful, bringing large sacks of seed for him to eat if he felt like it. However, Spike had been careful, making sure to feed his friend just enough, and the results showed. Peewee was still a fledgling, but anyone could tell that he was strong for his age. Quite the handsome fellow as well, if Spike did say so himself. To make sure dragons knew he actually belonged to someone, Peewee wore a harness bearing an emblem carved with a scale.

The most worrying time for Spike was during Peewee's molts. He’d gone through one already, shedding his feathers, igniting and falling to the floor as ash. Moments later, he’d emerged, a little taller, with a brighter coat. The hardest part for Spike was not assisting in the removal of the feathers, as Topaz had said it was best to let a phoenix shed naturally.

“Come on!” Javelin groaned. “You’re always cheating with that thing!”

“It’s not cheating when you get your friend’s gem back for her,” Spike said, examining his trophy. He felt tempted to keep it for himself. Jade always did have the best luck. Then he saw the angry looks his friends were giving him, and grinned. “To Jade,” Spike ordered, and the phoenix let out a chirp, before he flew over to Jade, landing on one of her horns.

Spike was merely seven, yet he was brimming with confidence. He exchanged glares with Tuft and Spear for a short time. They could see the excitement in Spike’s eyes, a hunger for a fight. Though not the best fighter for their ages, Spike was at least above average. Nobody was sure if they would be ready to beat him.

“Fine, keep the stupid thing,” Spear said, scampering off. “Come on, guys, I think we’ll find something good if we look hard enough.”

Spike grinned as Javelin and Tuft followed suit, but he was feeling a bit disappointed.

His least favorite victories were those he obtained through intimidation. He’d had a few fights, some which he won, others which he lost, the rest brought to a standstill with he and his opponent laughing helplessly, sprawled on the ground. He wasn’t particularly good at any one thing, but he was adaptable, as his father put it.

“Here,” Spike said, tossing the stone to Jade.

“Thanks,” Jade said, smiling and looking away to hide a growing blush. Her smile quickly faded. “Aren’t you worried they might gang up on you? They really hate when you use Peewee.”

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “Not really. That’ll just prove they can’t beat me one-on-one. Besides, it’s not like I use him much, except to get stuff for me. Isn’t that right, Peewee?” he asked, scratching the bird under his chin.

He’d observed Smolder and even Ember when they fought his brother. Garble was fair, and tended to meet his opponents head-on, saving any tricks for dire situations and fights with real consequences. Strength was his main attribute, and he’d use his strength, his endurance and his raw speed to overwhelm an opponent. However, Garble had trouble with swift and nimble opponents. Not to say he lost, that rarely if ever happened, yet sometimes he struggled.

Ember focused more on agility and technique, wearing out her opponent, Garble, through multiple strikes and making sure she didn’t get hit. It was a risky play, though. Once she was down, or the plan went sideways, it was hard for her to recover. She knew to use her environment to her advantage, but she kept needing to change up her tricks after Garble adapted to them. Then again, if he wasn’t in the mood for a fight, Garble tended to exploit Ember’s greatest weakness; she was ticklish. One poke to the side, or where her neck and chin met, and she collapsed like a dragon with a broken leg.

Smolder also utilized her agility, but tended to use her mind in more devious ways. Some would call her style under-handed; she called her methods practical. She was like Ember in this regard, and did not hold back. Despite her small size, this combination made Spike suspect his sister could be an even better fighter than his brother, if it weren’t for one fact. Smolder simply didn’t seem very interested in fighting. He worried sometimes that she relied on other whelps going easy on her because Garble was her big brother, always ready to toss her a gem he’d won elsewhere.

As for himself, Spike tried to wed the three styles with each other. He was stronger than many, but not as strong as his brother, yet being quick on his feet enabled him to dodge strikes, while allowing him to return them quickly and painfully. He was also able to take hits better then Ember, it seemed. And Smolder’s under-handedness, well, his first tool was Peewee, along with anything else he could come up with. If one plan didn’t work, he would pivot to another.

Jade broke the gem in two, giving one half to Spike. “Thanks again, and thank you, Peewee!” Holding out her arm, she invited the phoenix to flutter down to his new perch. She nuzzled the bird gently, eliciting happy squawks. “Oh, Spike, can I borrow him for the Gathering next week?”

“Why?”

“It’s the Feast of Fire, and I need someone to talk to. The drakes that come All the other drakes suck!” Jade groaned. “When are you ever going to show up again? It’s been months!”

Spike’s hatred towards gatherings had only grown over the years. When he did go, he’d be swarmed with attention. Not that it was because anyone particularly saw him as desirable; the best analogy he’d heard came from Uncle Smog, whom Mom had wanted to shut up before he could say anything, for some reason. At a gathering, there was a mass of starving dragons, and Spike was one of the few gems thrown at them. He wasn’t a particularly good one as he rarely, if ever complimented anyone there. But rivalry's were fierce amongst any dragon, and if Spike paid a complement to one girl, she could be lorded over a rival, and that was priceless.

“If I did, it’d be just to hang out with you.”

Half-hearted as he sounded, what he said brightened Jade’s mood considerably. “So, do you have any plans for today?”

She had one idea in mind, but wanted to see if Spike had something better in store.

“Not really. Dig for a few gems, maybe? Garble’s out scavenging with Dad, and Smolder-" He paused, thinking about it for a moment. "I guess Smolder is off with Ember. Maybe they’re doing some reading? Ember’s been getting better at it.”

Spike still couldn’t figure out why Smolder and Ember hung out together. Given how Smolder adored Garble, it made even less sense to Spike that she’d want to hang out with Princess Ember, who’d been the reason Garble once got into big trouble with her Dad, if he remembered correctly. Girls were very confusing. But Spike thought he understood a little bit better since he’d started spending time with Jade. Smolder only had brothers, and Ember had no siblings at all. Jade came from a family with six sisters, no boys, a rarity in the Dragonlands.

Spike didn’t know what Garble would have done, but deep down, he couldn’t help wondering whether if he’d been in a place where he only had other guys to play with, he’d have soon gone looking for girls to make friends. He stroked Peewee’s forehead as he contemplated this.

A devious smile formed on Jade’s face. “Say, have you found out your clan ability yet?”

“No, Jade. At this point my Dad thinks I’m an Amethyst-Hide or a Violet-Scale. I really hope that isn’t the case, but it’s not like I have much to go on.” Spike let out a sigh as his body slumped. “Why couldn’t I get something cool?”

Her smirk only grew wider, more devious. “You know, my cousin says that Elder Blast knows every clan ability there is. I think he may be able to tell you yours.”

Elder Blast was one of the oldest priests in the land. Due to his age, he was left to his own devices for the most part, administering last rites or embalming the deceased if someone else could not. His main function now was to preside over only the most important ceremonies.

Spike knew from the title alone that Jade was suggesting they visit a priest, but he could already see the issue with that. “Don’t we need our parents to–”

“Not when you’re with me. It helps when your cousin guards the front door,” Jade said, winking.

A mischievous grin spread along Spike’s features. “Peewee, home.”

The bird nodded, and quickly flew off. And Jade dusted herself off as best she could. She wanted to look presentable when meeting a priest.

Hewed painstakingly from the rock of a dormant volcano, the Archfire Temple was one of the three foremost Temples in the Dragonlands. Spike knew there were temples and shrines scattered about the kingdom, built in honor of the gods, but none were as important as these three; the Archfire Temple, the Rainbow Temple near the heart of the Dragonlands, and Ruby Shrine at Bahamut’s Landing, where dragons flew during the Embertide. Legend claimed that there was once a fourth temple called the Greatwyrm Temple, now known as the Lost Temple. Spike had pondered endlessly how anyone could lose an entire temple, but Grandpa Furnace had told him it wasn’t actually lost, just hidden for a time by Six Ancient Dragons who’d long since passed, until there came a dragon worthy enough to learn of its secrets.

When Spike had asked what the secrets were, he’d received a rather dry response;

“If I could tell you that, then the temple would not be lost to this day.”

The Archfire Temple was where myriad rites and ceremonies were performed. It would usually be bustling with activity, and typically dragons needed an appointment to gain entrance, for reasons which varied from anything to last rites or offering a prayer. As a rule, children were not permitted into the temple without a chaperone. As though to underscore this forbiddance, a double-door forged of iron marked the entrance. Flanking either side was a set of carved statues depicting two fierce dragons, but in front of the doors was a single, albeit very large and tall adult keeping watch, clad in full body-armor that masked even his face, making sure that anyone who entered had a purpose to their visit.

Jade promptly avoided this entrance and headed for another, smaller pair of doors at the side.

An entrance intended to let young adults and adolescents in and out of the Temple, generally Platinum Paladins reporting in for practice on the spiritual aspect of their duties. Smolder had once let slip to Spike that there might be a future for Garble among the Paladins. A nice image, yet Spike could not quite see it happening, and he’d asked himself where Smolder got that idea. If he didn’t claim the mantle of Dragon Lord, his brother would grow into a mighty warrior, undoubtedly, yet not every warrior was a Paladin. Dad was no Paladin, for instance, despite being a capable and respected fighter.

It all came down to piety, and Garble took after their father in not being particularly devout. Little did Spike know that the branch Smolder was referring to were the Ruby Paladins, warriors that were loyal to Dragon Lord, who Smolder was hoping would be Ember.

Jade was one of the most religious dragons Spike knew, even at seven years old. And this was how he learned that she’d snuck into the Temple many times.

“You’ve done this before?” Spike mouthed to her, anxiously. He was ready to take on whelps twice his age and size, yet risking the trouble they might get into for doing this was testing his resolve. Even if he didn’t think the gods would strike them down in wrath, his Mom’s anger felt just as formidable a prospect.

Jade nodded calmly. “Watch and learn.”

“Wait, what were you doing in there?”

At this, instead of answering, Jade coughed and looked away, strangely flustered. “Never mind,” she told Spike, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the smaller doorway.

Like the main entrance, this one also came with a guard, clad in platinum armor and wielding a platinum-tipped spear. Spike noticed the similar scale coloring to Jade’s, and how the guard shared her clan’s signature spiked tail.

“Hi, Lance!” Jade said, greeting the guard cheerfully as she ran up to him, Spike in tow.

The Paladin gazed at Spike and Jade, giving his cousin an almost disappointed look. “Jade, we’ve talked about this, and I said ‘no’. Bringing him won’t change that answer.”

“It’s not about that!” Jade snapped, her cheeks flushing a deep red. She collected herself. “Spike and I want to talk to Elder Blast. Remember, when I told you he didn’t know what his clan ability was? I thought maybe the Elder might be able to find out. Can you let Spike and me in, please?”

She gave her cousin a heart-meltingly sweet look, the one that typically got her into the Temple.

Lance Spiketail was Jade’s older cousin, and she had repeatedly used their family relationship to get inside the Temple without adult supervision, in order to pray before the altars within. She most frequently prayed to Tamara, Goddess of Mercy, Marriage and Motherhood. Jade would often pray for a good mate, while listing off details that just so happened to describe Spike, and thought Tamara would tip matters in her favor after a few decades.

Lance sighed and opened the door. “Be quiet, be respectful, and be obedient. If Elder Blast tells you to get lost, you listen.”

Both of the children nodded. “Thanks Lance!” Jade said. She moved quickly, grabbing Spike’s wrist once more.

However, inside, they walked through the halls at a regular pace. Their presence did cause some heads to turn amongst the priesthood, guards and visitors, but so long as they kept quiet and strode with purpose, none gave them a second glance.

This was not Spike’s first time inside the Archfire Temple, of course, but it was the first time he’d been able to wander without his parents or grandparents looking over his shoulder. Even Garble was too young to come alone. And now here he was, with only a whelp his age for company. Having Jade at his side did help ease his worries a little, he noted with some surprise, as she strode confidently forward. Still, although the fear of punishment was lessened, Spike would have found the Temple a rather intimidating place to be in.

There was no other place in the Dragonlands like the Temples. Simply put, they were buildings, which were not usually the focus of dragon artisanship. Many a dragon worked in metal and jewelry, but rock was the domain of miners, or carvers who used hammer and chisel to shape a sculpture – not architecture. He was sure he only knew that word because he’d read it in one of his books, and his family were of the few dragons who could read or write, anyway. Spike didn’t know exactly how books were made. While he’d seen the priests use scrolls, they tended to favor stone tablets.

But here, there was design, every room made for a specific purpose. Many housed altars, depicting the gods of dragonkind and their patrons, the Primal Dragons. Of the halls Spike and Jade wandered through, several had been built as walkways, stretching across flowing rivers of lava that heated the temple. In one such chamber, they saw a number of Paladins, most of whom were kneeling and praying. His favorite, however, was a sparring room, filled with some of the strongest-looking teenage drakes he’d ever seen clashing against one another using either their fists or arms and shields. He watched for a minute or two, mesmerized until Jade pulled him away.

Deeper into the Temple, they passed a room filled with statues of dragonkind’s greatest foes, of which he himself knew little, save for their names. The mad being Chaos. The monstrous Aberrations. The mighty and unyielding Titans. Finally, the betrayer herself, Tiamat. There were statues of lesser foes such as Flash Magnus and Grimhoof, though Spike felt these depictions lacked the gravitas of their greater brethren.

At last they descended down a sloping hall, into the deepest recesses of the Temple, situated below the level of the lava pools. This place was lit by odd metals, somewhere between gold and amber, which cast a dim but warm light. In the space farthest from the slope, just finishing his prayers for the day, was Elder Blast.

Jade made a motion for Spike to remain quiet. “Excuse me, Elder Blast?”

Blast lifted his head and turned to see Jade.

“Oh, joy. It’s Paladin Lance’s little cousin. I have told you already, girl, you are neither betrothed, nor the appropriate age to make such a decision. Bringing a drake here does not change my answer.”

“It’s not about that!” Jade said, before clamping her claw over her mouth. “Elder Blast,” she added, hurrying before Spike could ask questions, “Heathspike was wondering if you could tell him about his clan ability. I was told you knew them all, and he doesn’t know which one he’s got.”

The old wyrm craned his head and raised a scaly brow. “An odd thing to ask. Wait. You’re the Ironscale boy, aren’t you?”

Spike nodded. “Think I might be a Mythic Dragon? My Grandpa Furnace tells me about them all the time! Is it true that there were ones that could beat up the pony princess?”

Blast let out a noise of amusement, and motioned for the whelps to sit.

He was a chief practitioner for all of dragonkind’s most cherished ceremonies. Such as the Embertide, where every dragon flew through Equestria to Bahamut’s Landing, so they may celebrate their clan and the many blessings the gods had bestowed upon their race. Or the Ashen Remembrance, when dragons would honor the deceased from Paladins to family members. And the Feast of Fire, when dragons would celebrate the day Asgorath roared, and gave birth to dragonkind.

Besides, this was the season of the Feast of Fire.

He could spare a few stories. They involved the pantheon, so where was the harm? No one had come to him requesting last rites, and no doubt the boy would find the story enlightening.

“Very well, I will tell you a tale of the Fall of the Mythic Clans.”

Blast watched as Spike’s shoulders slumped in disbelief, and allowed himself a chuckle before beginning his tale.

To know of the Mythic Clans’ fall from grace, one must know how they obtained their power, and to know this, a young dragon must first know the origin of dragons. In the beginning, the world was but a ceaseless void. Then, there came a word. One spoken in a whisper, but which carried power. The word shattered the never-ending emptiness, and the gods appeared in a flash of light.

The gods are four, each one gifted with wisdom, power, and purpose. They are the Divine– the nameless Shaper of The Cosmos. After him is Asgorath, our own god, Father of Dragons and Keeper of the Spheres. You may have heard of Concordia, Mother of Hooves and Giver of Life. And last of all is Shimara– the Guide of Small Creatures.

Though unseen, they are ever-present in the world, ever-watchful. When they walked the world, it is said they donned raiments for a moment, called aspects, mere fractions of their tremendous power, so their children may know them. Still, to a dragon, no god is more significant than our father, Asgorath, the Rainbow Dragon.

He who made the Sun, the Moon, the stars, and this planet we mortals walk upon.

Spike’s hand shot up into the air, and Blast paused his musings.

“Yes, little one?”

“If our god made the sun and moon, why aren’t we moving them, instead of that pony princess?”

A fair question, one that Blast had researched extensively.

“Once, long, long ago we did, but we were a different sort of dragon back then. Our power waned at our request. Afterwards, there were only two clans that could manage the feat. The first no longer exists, the other clan wishes not to do so unless needed. But the other races are just as capable of moving them aside from Celestia, the centaurs being one example. Perhaps this is what the gods intended to happen.”

Spike seemed to accept the answer.

“Now, where was I? Right, the gods.”

Their home is the Seven Heavens of Mount Cronias itself, with the Eternal Halls resting upon the Summit. From this mountain, they shaped the world, filling it with countless wonders. We call this labor the First World. But after the gods had appeared, there came a second word, one shouted, which carried with it a new power. This word fell into the shadow of Mount Cronias, and from that darkness arose Chaos.

Though powerful and considered their sister, Chaos was a different being. She did not have the power to create like the gods did, instead she was meant to give the world unpredictability through nothing more than her ethereal presence. However, she grew envious of the gods’ power and their creations, and rebelled. In secret Chaos twisted her siblings’ work, and spawned the Aberrations, monsters that would plague the fledgling world for eons. When her treachery was discovered, she unleashed her children into the First World and did what the gods dare not do, manifesting within the First World itself, cracking its foundations.

Swiftly, the Divine, Concordia, and Shimara acted to defend their work. Through a song which, though gentle at first, grew into an overwhelming ballad of destruction and ferocity, the Celestials were born, the messengers of the gods. These creations descended from the heavens, into the world itself, and fought against the machinations of Chaos.

As for Asgorath?

Asgorath veiled himself in a body of invulnerable rainbow scales and, like Chaos, descended into the world he and his siblings had labored to create. His manifestation fractured all creation. When he manifested, the armies of Chaos descended upon him, but Asgorath let out a terrifying roar towards the stars. The Aberrations were blown back, and the stars he had created ignited with a rainbow fire. From those stars, in a burst of light, the Children of Asgorath came forth.

Dragons.

A great war raged between the abominations of Chaos and the armies of the gods. While Asgorath confronted their sister directly, the other gods used all their power to keep the world from shattering. Soon the Father of Dragons was able to fatally strike his foe, and without their mother, the aberrations fell into disarray. Some fled to realms yet unseen by the eyes of mortals. Others hid and tried to bide their time, but these monstrosities were soon felled.

Asgorath and his brother wove Chaos’s corpse into the fabric of reality itself, so that her original purpose may be fulfilled. Though triumphant, their victory was not achieved without cost, nor was Chaos the end of the gods' troubles. Many trials and tribulations followed her rebellion, leaving the world greatly wounded.

The First World died in its infancy. So a new labor began, new gods came into existence, though all were lesser than the Quartet born of the first word.

Together with the Father of Dragons, comprise the Six. Three came into being during the Titan Wars. The last two came about when Asgorath granted the ultimate gift to his children.

Asgorath. Bahamut, Null and Tiamat. Astilabor and Tamara.

“What about Sardior?” Spike’s voice interrupted.

Elder Blast paused his story. Aside from being rudely interrupted, there was something supremely worrying about Spike wondering why Sardior wasn’t mentioned. “Why would I add him to count?” Blast asked, raising a scaly brow.

“Isn’t he a god?” Spike asked. There were several stories that he heard from Furnace regarding Sardior, each one grander than the last. “I thought he could go to heaven whenever he wanted and talk to all the gods. And didn’t he rule over dragons for a thousand years?”

Blast took a moment to formulate a response. “The later part of your statement is true, but neither importance to our lands nor divine privileges make one a god, child. He was certainly more than a dragon, but less than a god.”

“Then what was he? Wasn’t he like, the strongest dragon to ever live?”

“Oh, he was a Primal Dragon,” Jade quickly explained. “Lance says they were stronger than the Mythics!”

Blast couldn’t deny he was impressed with such a young whelp. Not many cared to learn about the Primal Dragons so young, typically the first time they ever learned was during a ceremony after succeeding their first molt. Whatever the girl’s ulterior motives, she was learned of their lore, and devout for a child. Her bending the rules could be forgiven as a young child’s missteps. When she grew up, Blast felt sure she would be a pious dragon. Perhaps she could rub off on her little crush as well.

Spike’s ears perked at the new term. “What’s that? Could I be one of those?”

“No,” Blast said.

“But what if I am?”

“You’re not.” Perhaps Blast could talk with the Ironscale patriarch, perhaps have Spike and his siblings come in for lessons regarding their forefathers and their history. A little additional Temple attendance would not hurt the family. Another time perhaps. For now, Blast proceeded with his story.

When Asgorath roared and gave birth to our forefathers, they were everlasting creatures of metal and stone. Their roars commanded the sun and moon, their breath could bring about calamities, and their might was surpassed only by the gods themselves. However, as they watched the world, they soon desired the mortal lives the other races led.

They pleaded with the gods to make them like their other races and the gods granted them their wish, changing them into the dragons we are today. Creatures of flesh, capable of feeling joy and sorrow, hatred and love. Creatures capable of bringing forth new life into the world. Creatures that are destined die one day and return to the god that created us.

The Six also granted our forefathers blessings of their choosing. Some dragons were vain, and asked for traits that many would see beautiful. Others were humble and asked for what they thought was a small trait that would give them an advantage in life, like the Shadowside, the Spiketails, or the Ironscales. However, there was another group that desired power.

The Mythic Clans. Though many existed, few are remembered.

First and mightiest were the Wishstars, who could influence this earthen world by their wills, their hopes and their dreams. Then there were the Manaclaws, whose raw magical prowess matched the Alicorns crafted by Concordia or the Centaurs of the Divine, wielding fire that may burn even a dragon. There were the Bloodstalkers, who had such control over water, bile and essence, they could bend the minds and feelings of others, while themselves remaining immune to such meddling. Finally there were the Stormchasers– long serpent-like dragons, wingless, with horns and hair, who commanded the heavens, their roars calling forth gale, tempest and lightning.

Thus, these Mythic Clans would claim the Bloodstone Scepter, time and time again. For an age, their reign over dragonkind was undisputed.

However, their desire for power and pleasure was to twist them. Their clan name became all they cared for. The sons of Mythic Clans would take females of the lesser clans by force, sometimes three or four at once, breaking the laws that Asgorath and the gods had set for their dragons.

The cries and wails of their victims echoed throughout the kingdom. And the lesser clans came to beg the gods for relief, in this very temple before Asgorath. Their voices did not go unheard. The Six heard every cry, every prayer, every whisper, and convened. Sardior himself, the First Dragon Lord, was called to give counsel. Even Tiamat, who by then had fallen into darkness, was allowed to attend, bound in unbreakable chains of adamant. Rage-filled was she– her roar shook Mount Cronias.

A fierce debate raged. Tiamat the Vengeful, Null the Inexorable, and Alibastor the Ostentatious ardently wished to smite the Mythic Clans. Tamara the Merciful and Bahamut the Just, joined by the humble Sardior, begged for a different punishment.

It was Asgorath who gave the final decision.

The other people of the world trembled in awe of the powerful dragons. If he were to merely smite the fallen brethren, the outsiders would know, and they might attack, lured by the wealth of dragonkind. So he devised a punishment that would erode the Mythic Clans, without losing a single dragon. Asgorath roared, and so it was done.

A curse fell upon the Mythic Clans. Tamara the Merciful, wearing the guise of a Cleric, appeared before the fathers and sons of the Mythic Clans, and imparted upon them her revelation– their names and abilities had been cursed forevermore. In the future, whenever a child was to be born with their ability, it was to be a daughter who hatched from the egg.

She gave them a warning as well. If they did not wish to face the dark fires that consume Tiamat, they would treasure their daughters, and deliver their stolen mates back to the rightful clans.

Of the Mythics, though bitter about their fate, Clans Wishtar, Manaclaw and Bloodstalker soon understood the futility of seeking to lift the curse under their own power. Mighty though they were, they were but mortal. However, seeing that their powers would soon fade from the world, it was the Stormchasers who rebelled against their creators. They challenged the Six, threatening to break the egg of every last dragon if the curse was not lifted.

While the gods care little for challenges, the threat was something that they could not ignore. Asgorath became enraged, as did Bahamut and Null, the Just and the Inexorable alike. With the last shred of mercy he had for the Stormchasers, Asgorath warned they’d be eradicated if they harmed a single egg. In their arrogance, the Stormchasers sought to unleash lightning upon the hatchery. Yet, when the lightning fell, the bolts struck the Stormchasers themselves, reducing them to dust.

The rest of the Mythic Clans accepted their fates, heeded the word of Tamara. Generations passed, and now the Mythic Clans are no more than a memory.

“So, I’m not a member of a Mythic Clan?” Spike asked.

“I hope not, they were all jerks!” Jade said, fuming. She recalled the punishment that had been placed on them. “Elder Blast, if I pray hard enough, can the gods make it so my Mom only hatches boys from now on? I have six sisters, and would really like at least one brother.”

Blast pretended not to have heard her. “You are not part of the Mythic Clans,” he told Spike, not unkindly yet firmly. “There are no mythic dragons left. And please, little one–” This was addressed to Jade, “–the gods are not vendors, that’s not how prayer works.”

“But there aren’t any left?” said Spike.

“When I was younger than you,” Blast conceded, “I heard rumors that one clan managed to persist, but I hardly think them true.”

“So, I could be descended from that clan?” Spike asked.

“You’d be a girl if that were the case. Besides, can you do anything like the clans I’ve described? You have not the serpent body of a Stormchaser. You cannot cast spells–” Spike blew a stream of fire as hot as he could on Blast’s claw, who had to admit, it tickled, “–nor can your flames harm a dragon, try as you may. You did not peer into my mind and see I knew it impossible for you to be a Mythic Dragon. And if you were a Wishstar, well, your life would be one of constant fortune. How many of your fights do you win?”

“I win enough,” Spike grumbled, kicking the dirt on the floor.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, child, but if I had to guess, you are perhaps a Lavenderscale, or a Limespine. Perhaps a combination of the two. I know many would love your color palette.”

Blast couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of utter disappointment on Spike’s face.

“I believe that’s enough for now, your face certainly tells me so.”

He bid them goodbye, and the two left the Temple.

“Any reason you're so gloomy, Heathspike?” Amber was asking her son as the sun set that day.

Over in their cave’s designated ‘kids’ corner’, both of her older children were rummaging through a pile of Feast-time gems. As happened very often, Smolder had been the winner in their little family story-telling competition, and thus collected the lion’s share. Yet she was being uncommonly generous and had given Garble an extra portion.

Taken up with their holiday treats, neither of them were paying much attention to their little brother, unusually enough.

Admittedly, Garble needed a little cheering-up of his own. Amber knew her oldest son to be a champion in a fight between whelps, but he had his weaknesses. Possibly the greatest was that Garble, quite simply, did not like water. Winter, the rainy season, was a miserable time for him. He’d stay inside, spending less time with his friends, often not even joining them to go gem-hunting in the mud, for fear a cloudburst might occur while he was outside.

But it was Spike who really looked down in the dumps tonight. Spike had returned home and immediately fallen face -first on the floor. This was Spike’s way of telling his family that he was moping, but this was a problem that was quite literally impossible for them to solve.

Only Peewee seemed to try and cheer him up, nuzzling his fins, not that it seemed to help.

“I’m not a Mythic Dragon,” Spike grumbled into the floor.

Amber was aware of her son’s hope to be a Mythic Dragon. It was about as realistic as her dream to breathe underwater or in lava. One side of her could understand her son’s disappointment, especially when he didn’t even know what he could do. When she was young, part of her always felt envious of other clans, especially Clan Opaleyes, who had gorgeous blue eyes she would have killed for when she was younger.

Perhaps part of growing up for young dragons included accepting the ability they were given. Easier for some to do than it was for others.

“And what is wrong with that?”

Spike shrugged. “I want something as cool as Dad’s ability.”

“Oh, and what about my ability?” Amber said jokingly. She showed her tail, a hint of silver shown in the remaining daylight. “I can name a few dragons that would love a tail like mine.”

“It’s okay, but Dad’s invincible!”

Flare chuckled at the declaration. “Spike, if I was invincible I’d be the Dragon Lord, your mother my consort, and you all would be royalty. I know it’s hard to hear, and it’s harder to admit, Torch got the better of me when we fought. Our ability is useful, but it is not without its flaws.”

“But that was, like, a thousand years ago!” Spike protested. “I bet you could win if you fought now. Even if you can't, it's still a pretty cool power. My power is being purple or green.”

“Well, I for one think you are a darling shade of purple, that any whelp would be lucky to have. You could be an Emeraldeye. Not as flashy as you would have hoped, but many dragons would die to have your color scheme. Chin up, you’re still an Ironscale, impenetrable scales or no.”

Even Spike had to admit that was true.

In seven years, no other dragon clan had come to claim him, but nor had he sought to find any other family than the one he had – Amber and Flare, Garble and Smolder, and Jade, even Ember, he guessed. Not all dragons lived in the Dragonlands, with some preferring to make a life for themselves in the far reaches of foreign lands, living off what these places provided. Such dragons were usually those with a touch more greed than the norm, jealous of their hoards.

Maybe someday, Spike would find out how his egg came to lie, untouched, in that nesting ground. What he really wanted to know was if he had an ability that could match, let alone surpass the Ironscales. He had his pride.

Still, being a member of this family was what made him feel proudest.

Author's Note

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoy this little gift and I hope you all have a happy New Year!

Author's Note: After a discussion with my editor, we felt that it was better to rename the pony goddess to Concordia.

Chapter 1: Heathspike

Amber let out a sigh as she flew towards the nursery. She and her friend, Lord Consort Blaze, had something of a bet earlier that day. She lost, not by a thin margin, but in every conceivable way. If the bet was that ‘the sky will be blue when I look up’, Amber was more than certain that the sky would turn itself red just so she’d lose.

She was now stuck with eggshell cleaning duty in the hatchery, or nursery as many mothers called it. A tedious job if there ever was one, but Amber tried to look on the bright side. The eggshells were essentially hers. Normally, dragons just razed the left-over shells, but Amber took the time to smash them up and compost them. She did like gardening, and eggs added an extra something to her dirt.

She began by slowly gathering piles of eggshells before stomping on them and putting them in a pouch she’d brought. For the first few hours, it was fun. She took out all of her frustrations on the shells, saw how many she could stack on top before the tower fell over and even tried seeing if she could flick an eggshell into a hole. Then it stopped being fun. She began to groan as she tidied up, playing stupid games for too long, and she even scratched funny faces on the eggshells.

“Ugh, I should have had Garble or Smolder come with me. At least I’d have an excuse to leave once they got fussy.”

She continued her labor until an odd noise caught her attention. She looked around, and saw nothing, even the noise vanished after a moment. She shrugged it off only for it to return, louder this time. She looked behind her. Nothing but eggshells. She did hear something though; she was sure of it. She remained quiet, listening to the wind blow until the sound returned for a third time. At least there was a source, a very large pile of eggshells that she didn’t make.

Amber cleared them away and her heart nearly jumped into her mouth. In the pile of broken shells laid a newly hatched dragon. His wails were now clear as day to her, and looking upon the whelp, she felt her heart start to melt. He was a light purple with green spines, a magnificent color if she said so herself. Did someone lose him? It wasn’t odd for hatchlings to take a day to find their way to their mother’s, but it was long after the hatching and he was buried in rubbish! His voice carried through the nursery, and Amber lowered her hands and scooped up the babe.

“Poor thing, you’re so cold! How long have you been all alone out here? Why-” She let out a gasp. “You must be hungry!” It didn’t take her long to find a few spare gems, even less time to chew them until they were mush and left before the babe, who happily slurped his meal. Infant dragons didn’t have the strength to chew their own gems, so it was up to their mothers or wet-nurses, a dragon that would provide food to unclaimed whelps during hatchings, to mash it for them. Every year, Amber helped out as a wet-nurse during the hatching, so this was more than normal for her. After he was well fed, Amber gently patted his back and he let out a burp before whimpering. He reached out his arms for her. His little claws flexed.

“I know, sweetie, I know. Amber’s here,” She cooed, holding the whelp close to her chest. ‘Not so unfortunate now,’ she thought to herself. ‘I get to spend time with this little sweetheart, and I get to blow off work! Let someone else take care of this mess, they can raze it like the other times while I-’ Her heart stopped, and Amber looked down at the child in her grip. “Oh, I suppose it’s fortunate that it was me sent to clean up,” She said to the whelp. “Those morons might have gotten you mixed up in all that ash, and you might have never been found! Come, let’s see the Dragon Lord. He might be able to help find your mother.”

Torch was certainly looking lazy as he lay in his cave. Amber gave him all the proper greetings, and still he refused to move from his spot, as if he was too good to talk to her.

“A bit late to be bothering me, don’t you think? Why are you even here, weren’t you sent to clean the nursery?” Torch said as he rolled over on his side.

“Yes, well, that’s just it, I found something while I was out there. This whelp,” She showed Torch the babe, who whimpered at the mere sight of the Dragon Lord. “I think he was lost, or maybe abandoned, but I don’t think a mother would just leave her child behind! Can you help search for who he belongs to?”

Torch let out a snort. An abandoned whelp. How irresponsible did a parent need to be?

“I won’t bother searching. If he belongs to someone, I’m sure they’ll come looking for him. Just give him here. I’ll look after him until then. You go back to cleaning the nursery!”

“Very well,” Amber said. As she went to give the whelp to Torch, the babe began to whimper and coo louder and louder the closer he got. Then, he was placed in Torch’s grasp and a sharp wail rang out. Both dragons were taken aback.

“Uh, there, there?” Torch said. The whelp paused its crying for a moment, only to let out a louder wail not a moment later. He never was good at keeping whelps calm. He was protector, a provider, but his mate was a much better care taker than he. He recalled when Ember was hatched all he could do was make sure she was safe and clean, while Blaze kept her fed and happy.

“Um, stop crying, it’s okay!” Torch said, as Amber watched him try to comfort the hatchling. The babe’s volume only seemed to increase more and more as the seconds rolled by. “Hush little whelpling, Torchy is here!” Torch began to grow more frantic and the whelp seemed to grow more desperate in proportion. Until finally, a thought, a very foolish thought, crossed Torch’s mind. He was the Dragon Lord, and his orders were absolute, even to a whelp. “I order you to be silent!” Torch snarled. The baby’s wails could be heard in Canterlot.

“That’s enough of that.” Amber very calmly took the whelp back and then whipped her claw across Torch’s muzzle. At that same moment the cries fell silent, and there was a soft whimpering. Those fell silent when Amber held the babe to her chest.

It was fortunate she was a dragoness. Torch had something of a rule regarding retaliation, and that was to hit back twice as hard save for when hit by children and dragonesses. It made him feel filthy just thinking about hitting either groups. As such the only thing he would be able to do would if struck again would be to restrain her, which would be done very easily. That was also unlikely to happen, as she was now holding and caring for the whelp in question.

“Snarling at the poor thing; shame on you! If that’s how you’ll act, I’ll look after him. If his mother comes by, just have them find me, alright?” With that Amber left and returned to her cave. Considering she needed to introduce her guest to her family, Amber figured that she’d finish cleaning tomorrow, and clasped her hands to hide the whelp. She could surprise everyone, if the children were still up. Her mate sat coiled around their hoard, which looked significantly larger than when the day had started. She was lucky to have such a wonderful mate.

“Amber, there you are, how was the hatchery?”

“Very enriching, thank you for asking. How were the children?”

“A bit fussy, but, they’re nearly down for the night. I don’t know why we had another, one was trouble enough, but two? I’m glad we’re stopping there.”

“Oh, um, Flare, my sweet mate-”

Flare grumbled a bit. If she was buttering him up, she was about to ask for something. Worse, it was probably child related.

“-there’s something that I need to talk to you about, regarding children.”

“Every time you even go near the nursery,” Flare sighed. He thought about it for a moment. “It did take us some time to have Smolder, I suppose we could have a third. I wouldn’t object to trying at least.” He gave his mate a smirk, only for her to blush a deep red. “Bahamut bless me if it comes too fast though. Bahamut protect me if it’s another girl.”

“Well, perhaps he has blessed you in a way, because I have a surprise for you!” She lifted her right hand and revealed the little hatchling. Flare’s maw fell open.

“Amber where did you find that, why did you bring it home?”

“I found him in the nursery, alone. Poor dear was lying in a pile of shells! I couldn’t just leave the him there.”

“Amber, did you steal him? Someone could be looking for him!”

“I already told Torch about him. He’ll send them to us if anyone comes looking.”

“Amber think logically!” Her mate pleaded. “You should leave him with someone else! What if you get attached? What if Garble or Smolder, or both of them get attached?”

“Flare, have a heart!” His mate whimpered. She showed him the whelp who seemed to be reaching two little arms towards him. “Look at him, he’s reaching out to you! Can you honestly tell him no?” Amber gave the whelp a small kiss before nuzzling him.

“Did you already get attached?”

“Oh, I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. The more I think about it, the more I think he might not have parents anymore. I had Garble in our cave the moment he hatched; you wouldn’t put Smolder down for almost a week when you saw her. He was alone, he needs us, Flare. Besides, wouldn’t you boys like to outnumber us girls?”

Flare sat deep in thought for a moment, and then he locked eyes with the little whelp. ‘Damn it,’ he thought to himself, ‘he’s adorable.’

“Very well, I’ll start gathering more food for us then. Don’t get too attached, you never know if someone will come looking. Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Not yet, but I have a few listed. Now, where’s my little boy?” She moved deeper into the cave and let out a call, after hiding the babe once again. “Garble, Garble! I need you to come here.”

A small, little drake came walking out of the back of the cave, rubbing his eyes. He was no more than six, a few years away from the molt.

“Garble, there you are! How’s mommy’s little drake?”

“Good, I put Smolder to sleep. She was cranky most of the day.”

“What a good big brother!” His mother praised. “Your father and I are very lucky to have such a wonderful son.”

Garble beamed at the complement.

Amber’s smile widened. He was going to love this. “Garble, I need to ask you something, how would you feel about having another sibling?”

“Can I get a brother!?” Garble said, beaming with excitement.

“I don’t know, what if it was a girl? Wouldn’t you want another sister?”

Garble’s smile faltered. “I guess it’d be okay. I want a brother though! Someone to help me train for when I get to become Dragon Lord! Someone I can make my general!”

She laughed at her son’s bravado, even more when he puffed out his chest and flexed his arms. He likely just heard the word general recently and thought that, if he became dragon lord, he’d need one. It didn’t matter what a general actually was, he would just need one.

“Well I have good news for you Garble,” She lowered her cupped hands and revealed to her son the newly hatched whelp. “Meet your new baby brother.”

Garble’s eyes widened as a smile grew on his face. He climbed into his mother’s hands and picked up the babe, careful to support his head. Amber was about to say something, but he seemed calm as he gawked at Garble, before putting his fist in his mouth.

Garble seemed over the moon. His new brother was small, like Smolder was when she was his age, but leaner. Not to mention that his colors didn’t match theirs. His eyes were green, his spines were green, and his scales were purple. Garble didn’t mind though, not one bit. “Hi, I’m Garble, I’m your big brother!” He said excitedly, but in a low voice. Smolder could wait until tomorrow to find out. “What’s your name? What’s his name?” He asked his mother.

“I haven’t thought of a name yet. Hmm, I know! What about Heathspike? Heathspike Ironscale. Spike for short. Do you like it?” She asked the whelp.

“Beh!” Spike said.

“I like it too!” Garble said. He sat cross legged and put Spike on his lap. Spike shifted some but simply cooed a little as he took hold of Garble’s tail and began to gum it.

“It’s just like what Smolder used to do,” Garble said. “You’re lucky Spike, you have me as an older brother! You know what that means? It means you’re basically the coolest drake there is! And if anyone says different, I’ma punch them! Then, you’ll punch them! Then Smolder! Then me again!”

Spike let his new brother’s tail fall from his mouth, and he shook his fists.

“Yeah, just like that! Only hatched a few days ago, and you’re already learning to fight!” He could scarcely believe it; he actually had a little brother. The grin on his face only grew. “You, Smolder, and me, Spike. The three of us are going to be unstoppable! And if anyone is dumb enough to mess with you, you just let me know, and I’ll set them straight! That’s a promise!”

Author's Note

And so, Garble vows to be a good big brother to Heathspike, but what will that entail? Will Garble corrupt little Spike, or will the addition of Spike help change Garble, hopefully for the better?

only Time will tell in tHis nEw story, which shockingLy, no one hAs ever aTTemptEd to wRite yet, except one guy a long time ago.

Chapter 2: Scuffle in the Nursery

Garble was already trying to spend as much time as he could with his baby brother. The moment his eyes fluttered open; energy surged through his tiny body. A smile broke out upon his face, and he began towards a sleeping Spike. He was only stopped by his mother’s claw.

“Garble, he needs his sleep,” Amber gently chided as she nudged her eldest away from Spike. “You can play with him after he wakes up.” Garble pouted at this, but then his mother smiled and said, “You know, I’m going to the nursery with Spike later today. If you’d like to join us, I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Garble excitedly nodded.

“Good, now, let’s get you fed, and maybe Spike will be up by the time you’re done with breakfast.” Garble quaked with excitement as he followed his mother. “Flare, could you check on Smolder?”

Flare reluctantly obeyed. Smolder was going to love meeting their little guest, he just hoped that she wasn’t going to grow too attached to soon. In a small, makeshift nest, lay his daughter. Only three years of age, and she was still the most precious little hatchling he’d ever laid eyes on. He waited patiently for her to wake up on her own, but after Spike’s loud babbles and giggles didn’t seem to do the trick, Flare decided he’d need to take matters into his own claws.

“Smolder, it’s time to get up,” Flare said, gently nudging his daughter.

“No,” She grumbled as she turned away from him. “I don’t wanna!”

Flare let out a sigh. Smolder was always difficult when it came to sleep. If it was time for bed, she didn’t want to sleep. If it was time to start the day, she didn’t want to get up. Sometimes he wondered if it was just her wanting to go against whatever they said.

“Smolder it’s important, I have a surprise for you.”

It was frightening how fast she stood up and how excited she looked. She probably thought that she was getting a treat.

“Come, follow me,” Her father said, slowly making his way through the cave and towards his mate. He had to hide the growing grin on his face. “Our daughter’s up.”

“Surprise!?” Smolder said, noticing that her mother was holding something. She noticed Garble was beaming. Her excitement only growing, she began to bounce in place.

Amber smiled and lowered her hand to the ground, revealing Spike.

“Deh!” Spike said, removing his fist from his mouth.

“Smolder meet your new baby brother, Heathspike.”

Her eyes went wide and she climbed into her mother’s claw. With some assistance from her father, she held her new brother in her arms. Spike cooed as he gazed up at the new face.

“I love him,” Smolder gently whispered.

“I thought you would,” Amber said with a small giggle. “Aren’t you going to say hi?”

“Hi Heathspike!” Smolder echoed, before giving him a kiss on his forehead. “He’s cute!”

Spike simply babbled as he gummed his fist.

“Well, I think you two are getting along well- Smolder don’t do that,” Amber sighed as Smolder began to poke Spike’s pudgy cheeks, her daughter giggling loudly.

“They’re soft and squishy!” She said innocently. Spike began to whimper some as his face twisted into a frown, causing Amber to become a bit firmer in tone.

“Smolderessence, I don’t think that he likes it. Stop.” Smolder heeded the warning and Spike returned to gumming anything he could get his claws on. “You’re just like Garble when he held you for the first time.” Amber shook her head as she put both her and Spike on the ground.

Smolder was given a quick breakfast and put on their mother’s back. Much to her disappointment, Garble was the one to hold Spike for the trip. When they arrived at the Nursery, there was a large, deep blue dragoness already there. She looked up at Amber and smirked as she landed.

“Watch your siblings, Garble,” Amber ordered, putting them down in one of the unoccupied holes in the ground. “I’m going to finish my work from yesterday and talk with a friend.”

“Yes, Mama,” Garble said. While their mother tended to her duties, Garble picked up Spike. “This is the nursery,” Garble explained. “When I’m Dragon Lord, it’s going to be my job to look after this place and make sure nothing bad happens when mamas leave their eggs here! Like what Torch did for us.”

Spike simply blinked before hitting Garble’s cheek.

“Beh!” He said. There was a soft snicker from Smolder.

“I think he’s challenging you.”

“I’ll go easy on him when the time comes,” Garble said. “The best part about coming here is this.” Garble put his brother on the heated ground. Spike began to make little hums of joy as he shifted from side to side slowly growing more and more content.

“Garble, no! I wanna play with him!” Smolder whined, knowing that placing a hatchling down on the ground in the nursery was the equivalent of telling him to take a nap.

“Smolder, he likes it.”

“But I wanna play,” Smolder pouted.

“Play what?”

“I don’t know. Oh, wrestling!” Smolder said, getting on all fours. “We should teach him to pounce and bite and everything! Tail smack, claw swipe, and fire breath!” Smolder let out a mewl as she spat out a very small wisp of deep pink fire.

“He’s too small for that. He needs to grow a little, like you did.”

“I guess, but that’ll take forever,” Smolder inflated her cheeks, holding her breath. Then, she remembered that she had another brother, a big brother. “You don’t have to grow,” Smolder said as an evil grin spread across her face. Garble gave her a confused look before being tackled. The two began to roll about, each trying to pin the other. Spike was very entertained.

Meanwhile, Amber gathered many eggshells and deposited them into her container from the other day. The blue dragoness, who hummed to herself, was certainly helpful. Her name was Lord Consort Blaze.

“Something on your mind, Blaze?” Amber asked. “You only hum when you want to say something.”

“A few things, actually. My mate was not happy with you yesterday,” Blaze said, as she blew fire on the shells, reducing them to ash within moments. “Most dragonesses wouldn’t even think about hitting the Dragon Lord, but to have the gall to scold him afterwards! Amber Ironscale, you are too bold a dragon.”

“I upset him!?” Amber put her claw to her forehead and swooned in an overly dramatic fashion. “I feel such shame!” Her face fell flat. “Did our mighty lord happen to tell you what he did to make me slap him?”

“Oh, I knew something was amiss the minute he started complaining. He called you lazy, emotionally unstable and a few other words I won’t repeat around your children. I thought ‘if he’s being so adamant that it was all your fault, he did something warranting it’. After I forced the truth out of him, I slapped him too. Mostly for lying to me and insulting you.” She giggled a bit. “I’m honestly a bit jealous. I practically dump my work on you, and then you go find a hatchling.”

“It was fortunate you did! If you or anyone else had been the one to clean, he might have never been found,” Amber said.

“I would have been careful! Ugh, if I didn’t want to get out of work, Ember would have a new baby brother and Torch would have a son! I’m the one that managed to mate with the Dragon Lord, and you seem to have all the luck! So, what did you name him, or did Flare finally win out with Blackfire?”

“Oh, heavens no! I named him Heathspike, Spike for short. And I don’t have all the luck, you only have a daughter, I have two sons now. Three if we include miss pouty at times.” She looked towards the hole for a moment. Spike was happily cooing while Garble and Smolder wrestled each other. Smolder seemed to have the upper hand, but Amber could tell by his hesitations that Garble was holding back, to make things fair.

“Don’t get me started with pouty. Ember seems to glare at everything around her!” Blaze complained, burning more eggshells. “I give her a snack and I get glared at. Torch lets her play on his horns, she glares at him. She’d probably glare at the sun if it didn’t hurt her eyes.”

“Is that why you left her with Torch? She is his precious little princess after all, I’d be shocked if he ever let Ember out of his sight!”

“No, I brought her along. In fact, I thought she might make a good playmate for Garble. She called him a boulderhead on the way here and went ‘adventuring’ the moment I put her down.” Blaze shook her head. “Torch is thinking about stepping down as Dragon Lord soon and Ember wants to prove that she can be big and strong and brave. If I need anything from my mate, Amber, it’s for that brute to tell his daughter he loves her no matter what. Instead it’s ‘you’re too small for this, you’re too weak for that, you’re forbidden from anything that I don’t approve!’ It’s bad enough he’s overprotective, but he also can’t voice it in a kind way.”

“He’s stepping down? Don’t tell Garble that yet,” Amber sighed. “He’s been declaring himself the next Dragon Lord for the last few months. I’d hate to have him jumping off the walls for an actual chance.”

“Soon is relative. Probably in a few years, maybe two decades. No need to worry about Garble doing something stupid and reckless just yet. You’ll have to wait until he gets his wings. I just hope Ember doesn’t do anything impetuous when she molts.”

There came a sudden, sharp scream that echoed through the nursery. Blaze sighed drearily and turned, recognizing the scream to belong to her daughter. She quickly found her and shook her head disappointedly, not because her daughter was frightened, but rather because it was likely Ember that was responsible for whatever was frightening her. The little hatchling was running through the nursery breathing heavily and screaming while being chased by two frilled lava lizards that were, at best, a quarter her size each.

“Think we should help her?” Amber asked.

Blaze began to think deeply about the offer. “As much as it pains me to say this, I feel like a lesson needs to be learned.” Ember quickly climbed a rock and whimpered, burying her face in the stone surface. One lizard veered off away from the hatchling, satisfied that she had been frightened. The other got up on its hindlegs and hissed loudly, shaking its frills. “If they start biting, I’ll intervene. For now, she wanted to act like Torch, I say let her earn everything that entails.”

Meanwhile Garble and Smolder separated just as Garble was about to pin her on her stomach and bite the nape of her neck, which would have ensured his victory. The scream had Spike whimpering and looking towards his siblings.

“Stay with Spike,” Garble said. “I’ll check it out.”

While Garble climbed from the hole, Smolder went to Spike’s side and began to nuzzle him. Out of instinct, Spike leaned into her.

“Don’t worry, Gar-Gar’s going to beat up whatever it is,” Smolder whispered. Spike seemed to only whimper louder as he buried himself deeper into his sister’s embrace. “What’s wrong?” Then she heard a hiss, looked up, and watched as one of the frilled lizards slowly lowered itself into their pen.

Garble was less than thrilled by what he saw. He was expecting a Roc to be attacking, or maybe a pony, or something else that would have let him have an epic battle. All he saw was a blue dragon being terrorized by a frilled lava lizard.

‘Scaredy drake,’ Garble thought to himself, his tiny face growing angry. Lava lizards, bright orange reptiles with deep crimson spots on their back, were not venomous, nor dangerous, and had a tendency to eat insects and mites off fully grown dragons. The most they could do was hiss at things, flare their large, bright yellow hoods, run on their hindlegs, and shoot blood from their eyes if agitated or frightened enough. The last one was gross. Grumbling to himself he went over to the lizard and smacked it with his tail, sending it tumbling away.

The blue dragon heard the cry the lizard gave and peeked from her hiding place. She saw the lizard running away on its hindlegs. Had it not recently attacked her; the sight would have been one of the most entertaining spectacles she’d ever witnessed. She also saw a red dragon walking away, ignoring her completely.

Ember let out sniffles and whimpers before her little face hardened into a glare. ‘I could have handled that,’ she thought to herself, wiping the lingering droplets of water that had formed in the corner of her eyes. She climbed down from her perch and glared bitterly at the dragon, as if trying to set him on fire with her mind. ‘He ruined everything.’

As Garble slowly made his way towards his siblings’ pit, Smolder gallantly growled and snapped her fangs at the lizard, who was now on two legs, baring its sharp rubbery fangs, and shaking its frills. Spike sniffled and whimpered as Smolder circled the beast.

It would feint a lunge at her, not foolish enough to actually strike, only for the young dragon to snap her teeth back at it. Seeing that it was nearly out of options, and uncertain about what would happen, the lizard blinked hard for a few moments. Smolder got ready to pounce, but, when its eyes opened, two streams of crimson shot forth, splattering both her and Spike. Spike’s wails echoed through the dragon lands, and Smolder, trembling at what had just been done to her, quickly retreated and shielded her little brother just as another stream shot from the lizard’s eye.

Garble’s eyes widened and the drake scampered towards the pit as fast as his little legs could carry him.

“I’m intervening,” Amber said, upon hearing the cries. She was quickly stopped by Blaze.

“Hold on, Garble’s already running to them. Why not let him handle this, like a good big brother?”

“That thing is frightening Spike!”

“I know, but it’s an intimidation tactic, it’s probably hurting itself more than it is Spike or Smolder. Besides, this little fight could be good for Garble’s confidence.” Amber raised a single eyebrow at her friend. “If Garble gets sprayed and starts cowering, then you should intervene.”

“I should stop this now! You’re not the Dragon Lord, you can’t make me wait.”

“I know, which is why I’m suggesting it, not ordering you like Torch would. If Torch were here, he’d be screaming at everyone and everything. Let’s just see how Garble handles things.”

Amber reluctantly steeled herself and nervously watched as her son leapt into the pit right next to the lizard.

Snarling, Garble’s fangs chomped down on the lizard’s tail and he threw it against the wall. The reptile began to thrash on the ground before finding its footing. Standing on its hindlegs, its frills uncurled and shook, trying to intimidate the new threat. Garble snarled and snapped at it. The Lizard closed its eyes, but Garble retaliated by spewing a small stream of fire at it.

It was hardly singed, but it mattered not to the lizard. It turned and sprayed its blood against the wall before fleeing from anything that looked like a dragon. It is said that the lizard abandoned the Dragon Lands that day and ran to Equestria. Whispers in the wind say that it later stumbled across a very kind pegasus and made a goodly home in her animal sanctuary.

Garble quickly came to Spike and Smolder’s side and did his best to comfort them, but the babe could only wail while Smolder quietly wept alongside him.

“Mama!” Garble called, when he noticed that both Spike and Smolder had been sprayed with blood. Instantly a claw scooped the three of them up.

“Shh, shh, shh, there, there, mama’s here,” Amber cooed, holding her hatchlings close. “You’re all safe, you’re all alright. No need for tears.” She began to rock them back and forth, slowly calming down her younger children. Once they were at ease, she cleaned the residue from their scales until nothing remained on them.

Ember was also picked up, though she was noticeably angrier.

“You seemed to be on quite the frightening escapade.” Her mother said. “I assume that you’ve had enough adventuring for one day?”

“I wasn’t scared,” Ember said, trying to sneer but failing when she sniffled. “I was leading them into a trap. That boulderhead ruined my plan!”

“Oh, you had a plan, I’m so glad to hear that,” Blaze said with a smirk. “What was it? Surely you can tell me what brilliant stratagem you devised.” Ember gave her a confused look. “Stratagem means plan.”

“I don’t wanna,” Ember said turning away from her mother and inflating her cheeks, earning her an eye roll.

“You’re too much like your father, Ember. He usually does things without thinking as well. Why were two lava lizards even chasing you?” Ember huffed and refused to answer. “Ember, I’m already not happy with you considering the problems you’ve caused for other dragons, do not get pouty with me.”

“They were close to the nursery,” Ember grumbled. “Dad says since he’s the strongest dragon, he has to keep things away. I was trying to be like him! You saw how scared those little babies were of them.”

“Ember, I understand that you want to be like your father, but may I pose you a question?”

“No,” Ember huffed.

Blaze could admit asking was a mistake. Smirking, she said, “Let me rephrase that. I’m going to pose you a question. Why don’t you try being better than your father?”

“But dad’s big and strong, I need to get big and strong! And he’s Dragon Lord, no one is better than him.”

“I know it seems like that, but trust me, I could beat your father in a fight?” Something of a white lie. Blaze could only hit as hard as an anemic kitten. However, what she lacked in strength, she more than made up for in intelligence. Is it possible she could beat Torch in a fight if they were strangers? Perhaps on good day, if Torch agreed to having a leg broken or an arm chained behind his back, and if victory could be achieved via a three count. However, they were mates. 'Beating' essentially meant pacifying him in some way. A surprise kiss would give Blaze just enough time to push him on his back, and a plethora of nuzzles and affectionate words would keep him there long enough for her to achieve victory.

“Then why aren’t you Dragon Lord?”

“I’m not the Dragon Lord because I knew it would be too much of a hassle."

This was a true to an extent. She tried to lead dragons when she was young, but it was like herding a pack of, well, dragons. They mostly just wanted to be left to their own devices. When the chance to fight for the title of Lord came, she decided to spend time in a nursery, playing with hatchlings. There were times she wondered how far she would have made it if she did participate. Longer than most anyone would expected, perhaps making it into the top 20 dragons, but she doubted she could hold her own for longer than that.

"Ember, leading dragons is one of, if not the most infuriating jobs I can name. I remember when we were younger, your father always flew through a canyon filled with slingtails to visit me. He was hit by several boulders, broke several bones, and was late for several of our outings. Do you want to know how he eventually overcame such a task of maneuvering through that territory?” Ember shook her head. “After several repeat teachings, I taught him that the best way to handle them was not to fly through the canyon,” Blaze explained. “Do you want to know how you could have avoided the lava lizards?”

“Not bother them?” She muttered.

“Exactly. You’re learning already!” Blaze smiled as her daughter grew increasingly bitter. “How about this Ember, you stop being grouchy, at least with me, and I’ll teach you how to use your head. Then, when you grow up, you’ll be both strong and smart.”

“And the Dragon Lord?”

“Ember, you’ll be the best Dragon Lord we’ve ever had.”

“Okay,” Ember grumbled.

Though she disliked her grumbling, Blaze was over the moon about the promise. “Good. Now, you’ve caused enough trouble for one day, how about a nice nap?”

“But I’m not tired!” Ember whined.

“Oh, but you look so exhausted,” Her mother said with a whimper. “Watch.” She put Ember down in one of the unoccupied, lava heated egg pits. Instantly, Ember’s eyelids became heavy and she instinctively curled up in a ball.

“But I’m not… tired… right now.” Her eyes shut and gentle snores escaped her tiny maw.

Meanwhile Amber placed her three children into a nearby egg pit. Spike and Smolder nearly fell asleep instantly, fatigued after their encounter with the lizard, while Garble paced around them anxiously.

“It was very brave of you to protect your siblings like that, Garble,” Amber said. Garble didn’t seem to hear the compliment.

“They’ll be okay, right?” Garble asked, looking up at Amber. “They had that red stuff on them.”

“That was just to frighten them, nothing more. Though, they would probably feel safer if you were close by for their nap. You can keep them safe, can’t you? Mommy still needs to clean up or else Torch might get grumpy.”

“Okay.” Garble curled himself around his siblings as best he could, taking extra care to make sure that Spike was between him and Smolder. Letting the lava lake beneath them warm him, Garble fell fast asleep.

With their children snoozing, Amber and Blaze finished cleaning the remainder of the nursery with little trouble. With their chore completed, Blaze was finally allowed to meet Spike.

“So that’s little Heathspike,” Blaze said, looking at the purple dragon. “He’s absolutely adorable! Seems healthy, and what a marvelous color scheme! Not to mention that he has such good siblings. They’ve only known him a day and they’re already protecting him from nasty little lizards. It’s hard to believe you just found him in an egg pit! How could a mother leave this little sweetheart behind?”

“Worse than that, I found him in a pile of eggshells.”

“Beg pardon?”

“A pile of eggshells. Must have been a heartless monster to leave him all alone. Blaze, are you alright?” Amber paused, seeing the growing look of concern on her friend’s face.

“That’s horrifying. Abandoning him is one thing, you just leave him behind for someone else to claim during a hatching, but burying him in rubbish? Heartless doesn’t start to cover what that is!” She looked down at the siblings sleeping in their little pile. “Perhaps it was better that it was you who found him. Garble and Smolder certainly don’t seem to mind. What a lucky hatchling.”

“That he is. My lucky little hatchling.”

The two friends soon parted and brought their slumbering children back to their caves.

Author's Note

Smolder protects, Garble's attacks, and they both got their baby brother's back.

Picture that gave me the lizard chase can be found here

Chapter 3: Restless Night

Flare let out a sigh as he watched Spike play with Smolder, hitting a smooth and rounded pumice stone towards her, only for his daughter to hit it back. Their giggles and laughs filled the cave and brought a smile to the old salamander’s face. It lasted for but a moment.

Smolder, and everyone else in the family, loved Spike, too much in his opinion. Garble adored him, and often told Spike what the two of them were going to do when they were older, which gems were the best, and the best way to breathe a steady stream of fire. Then there was Amber. She doted on all her children to be sure, but Spike got more attention than he should in his mind. The whelp was only their guest after all.

“When is that oaf going to come?” He heard his mate say. She sat near the entrance of their cave, waiting for Torch to give them news of Spike’s lack of a mother. While she certainly thought of Spike as her new son, Flare knew that Torch could say differently if his actual mother showed up. Yet, Amber was convinced the Dragon Lord would see things her way.

“Amber, I think the Dragon Lord has better things to do then worry about us getting to keep our guest.”

“You mean our son,” Amber corrected.

“Amber,” Flare groaned.

“It’s been two weeks, and still not a peep from anyone! Most of the other mothers agree he’s basically ours. Even you have to admit you’ve grown fond of him.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t fond of the whelp,” Flare said. “I just think we should wait before getting too attached.”

“It’s a bit too late for us, unfortunately,” Amber said, looking back towards her children. She smiled. “Look at them, they love him.”

“That’s part of the problem,” Flare said, shaking his head. He returned to watching the hatchlings while Amber waited at the mouth of the cave. When the sun went down, and the moon began to cast a pale glow on the Dragon Lands, Flare said to his children, and Spike, “Alright, enough playing. Time for bed.”

Flare saw the anger and disbelief that crossed his daughter’s face. There was nothing she hated more than bedtime.

“No, I don’t wanna!” Smolder said firmly. She took a fighting stance on all fours, inflated her cheeks and puffed out her chest.

Her father ignored her protests and nudged her towards the back of the cave. Her tantrum began the moment she moved an inch.

“I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna!” she repeated as she fell to the floor and flailed her arms and legs. Her parents became quickly annoyed but didn’t bother getting mad, Spike became confused and not much else, and Garble couldn’t bring himself to care. If they were all being honest, this was one of Smolder’s calmer tantrums.

Though he hated them, there was something charmingly honest about his daughter’s flailing and whining. It was annoying to deal with every night, but he admired that there wasn’t any fudging about what she wanted. The dragons let the tantrum continue for a minute and then Smolder began to tire and become still. She persisted in her protests, despite her weariness. She was left on her back, rubbing her eyes, even as Garble came and picked her up.

He carried her off towards their spots in the cave and soon her snores filled the air. Flare and Amber gave a sigh of relief before giving their eldest a look, as if to warn him. Garble was smart enough to obey.

“Goodnight Spike.” Garble nuzzled his brother and went off into his own corner, curling up around a very small mound of treasure that he had made while scavenging with Flare.

With Garble and Smolder taken care of, Amber tended to Spike. She blew an intense stream of fire on the ground, heating up his area in the cave like she’d once done for Garble and Smolder when they were infants. Once he was put down, Spike quickly fell asleep, allowing his parents to curl around their hoard. “Goodnight, my little hatchling,” Amber said, using the tip of her claw to stroke Spike’s cheek. “Flare, are you going to say anything to your son?”

“I think our guest has been tended to more than enough,” he grumbled.

Amber rolled her eyes and took one last look at Spike. Flare would come around once Torch grew a fraction of a brain and declared Spike theirs. Her eyes snapped open as Spike’s cries and screams began and hour into the night. ‘A bad dream?’ She thought to herself, groaning as she shifted. Flare’s claw forced her still.

“I’ll take care of it,” He mumbled. “You get some sleep.” Amber did as she was told, and Flare slowly moved to Spike’s side. Just being there seemed enough to calm him down, and with a short story about a mighty dragon charming a beautiful lord, Spike was lulled to sleep once more. The second time Spike woke up, Amber tended to him, singing him gentle lullabies, telling him how much he was loved, and how happy he made everyone. Once Spike was asleep, Amber gave his cheek one last loving stroke and returned to her hoard and mate.

Then Spike woke for a third time, and his parents slept through his cries. There was a pattering in the cave though, and Garble came to his little brother’s side.

The drake yawned, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled towards the nest. He looked to his parents, who even in sleep looked exhausted.

“Heathspike, we need sleep. I’m scavenging with dad tomorrow,” Garble mumbled. The moment he sat down before his brother, the wails began to taper into whimpers and sniffles. Garble checked the nest. He didn’t need changing. Perhaps he was hungry? He tried feeding him. Nothing. Garble did have him quiet. Perhaps he could go back to bed and Spike would fall back asleep on his own.

Garble made sure that Spike was calm and content before turning to leave. He took one step before the whimpers and coos started again. He turned back, and saw Spike waving his arms and grasping at him, as if trying to pull him back.

“The things I do to be a good big brother,” he said quietly to himself. He left Spike alone for a moment, only to return with a book. Garble made sure that he and Spike where the only ones awake.

“I used to do this for Smolder, but she likes other stuff now. I shouldn’t have read her that book that Grandma Topaz found near that abandoned pony hut. Fairy tales are stupid.” He moved Spike so that he was sitting in his lap. “Dad never liked me reading to her, mom said it was okay though.” Garble looked at the cover of the book labeled Sonnets. “I found this when I was scavenging with dad and Uncle Smog a while ago.”

Spike looked curiously at the book, putting a small hand on it.

“Grandma Topaz taught me to read it. She told me that it was written by ponies. It makes me feel weird knowing that, but I like it.” He dried the lingering tears in his brother’s eyes. “Maybe, you’ll like it to.” Garble flipped page twenty-seven, perfect given the time, and began to read. “Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed. The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; but then begins a journey in my head, to work my mind, when body's work's expired.”

Garble read several poems and Spike was lulled or bored to sleep. Garble was never certain which one it was. He removed Spike from his lap, lay him gently on the ground, and slowly crept away, only for his baby brother to whimper and whine the further he got. Garble went back to his brother’s side, and the whimper’s ceased.

Perhaps he was having a nightmare, or maybe he was just frightened of the dark. Whatever it was, he didn’t need to be scared, not while he was around. Garble began to circle his brother before curling around him.

“Like I’d let anything happen to you.” Garble yawned as he made himself comfortable. He’d already defended Spike from a Lava Lizard; he’d be able to beat up anything that crept about during the night. He was a dragon after all, and dragons were the best at everything, especially fighting.

A few moments passed and Smolder shifted in her little spot. Her eyes fluttered opened and she found herself without a Garble nearby.

“Gar-Gar?” She said with a whimper. She looked around the cave, scanning for him, but only saw shadows slowly encroaching on her. She let out a small burst of fire to light her little area and grew bitter and angry. Right near their parents lay Spike and Garble. She began to fume when she saw the book near them.

‘Stupid boys,’ she thought to herself. Garble had read to Spike and didn’t include her. She began to shake as her little face twisted into a scowl. She’d teach them to leave her out of story time. Walking up to the small nest, her tail gently nudged her little brother and earned his attention just as she lay on the ground.

Spike opened his eyes for but a moment, saw Smolder near him, and shifted towards her, nestling into her side before falling back into his deep slumber.

‘That’ll teach Garble,’ Smolder thought as Garble shifted in his sleep, drawing closer to his siblings. It was the perfect revenge for this heinous transgression. After tonight though, she would try to be Spike’s favorite, make him feel safe and comfortable. That way, Spike would make sure she was around anytime Garble read to him. It was a perfect, foolproof plan. Snickering to herself with all the malevolence a three-year-old could muster, Smolder fell back asleep.

For the first time in two weeks, the night was quiet.

The sun peaked from beyond the horizon, and its rays crept into the cave, hitting Amber. Feeling so well rested, she was gripped with an intense fear.

“Heathspike!” She said with a gasp, realizing that she’d only woken up twice last night. She turned her head to her newest hatchling’s nest, only to find him sound asleep, nestling into the embrace of his older brother while his sister slept, draped over Garble. Relief surged through her as she watched their bodies slowly rise and fall with each breath they took. She let her head fall to the side, gently hitting Flare.

He let out a loud yawn as he stretched out his body. He took a moment to admire his beautiful mate bathed in the sun’s light, her bright golden yellow scales shimmering. He gave her a nuzzle before looking over her shoulder at Spike’s nest. Even a strong and unemotional dragon like him found something pure about the mound his children were in. Still, he scoffed at one detail regarding the scene.

“That blasted book,” Flare said with a sneer, noticing Garble’s treasure lying not too far from him. “I don’t like that you allowed him to keep it. It smells of pony.”

“We only had to get up twice last night,” Amber pointed out. “If that book had anything to do with it, I stick by my choice.”

“I still don’t like it,” Flare said, unable to counter her reasoning.

“I know, but you’re such a kind and thoughtful father that you put your children’s happiness before yours.” She began to nuzzle Flare as she snaked her tail to intertwine with his. “How lucky am I to have such a wonderful mate?”

“I hate when you do this, Amber.”

“Calm you down? Show you affection? Praise you for being a wonderful father?” She began to purr.

“Let’s not leave out buttering me up,” He said, content with his position. “You know, if this is permanent, we still need to introduce Spike to the rest of our family. I think your mother and grandmother will be disappointed that we waited so long.”

“It’s only been two weeks, give or take a day. Your brother can try and poison Spike’s mind with his courting advice when he’s bigger.”

“Like your grandmother is much better, teaching Garble to read that book, giving Smolder that book of fairy tales. Lord knows what they’ll teach Spike when they meet him.” Flare gave the children another glance, focusing on Spike for a brief moment. “Amber, you and I need to talk about what happens if his birth mother comes.”

“We have silver, gold, platinum and plenty of jewels, I think we can come to an arrangement. If not, I wouldn’t mind chatting with her about why Heathspike was buried in rubbish.” Through her purrs, Amber began to growl lowly, moving her tail to surround the children. As far as Amber was concerned, they’d been caring for Spike; they had been loving him. She’d be damned before some wretch could stomp into their cave and demand their child.

“You’re getting angry,” Flare said, draping a wing over his mate. “I’m sorry for mentioning it. How about we get a little more sleep? There won’t be another morning where we’re awake before they are.” He saw the anxious look on his mate’s face and gently nuzzled her. “I’m sure nothing will happen. And the more time passes, the more we have for the case that Spike’s ours.”

“I hope so,” Amber sighed. She closed her eyes as her mate brought her in close. ‘Please, Bahamut, let nothing happen.’

Author's Note

A shorter chapter with more fluff than anything else. We have maybe two more chapters before a small time skip into the future, about 3 years or so.

Chapter 4: Family

Two weeks and two days had passed since Garble had begun reading to Spike, and now Smolder, nightly. He read from his book sonnets and the book of fairy tales that his sister adored. Not for the pictures of beautiful princesses or colorful dresses, Smolder made sure to make that clear. Rather, it was for the violence in them, mostly inflicted upon the villain of the story. Due to his sister’s influence, Spike was starting to adore the stories as well. What was truly worrying to his parents was his amazement and coos upon seeing the knight or prince character. They prayed it was just for the armor they wore and the swords they wielded.

While their father never liked Garble reading pony books, the stories along with his sibling sleeping near him had Spike quiet for nearly the entire night, so he couldn’t complain. Flare could now name one thing ponies did right with their miserable existence. There was still the occasional feeding, which Amber took care of in all odd hours of the night. In exchange, the children were Flare’s in the morning.

However, it was not the children that woke their parents up today, it was a loud slam outside the cave. Amber and Flare began growling and gave the air a sniff, only for a sickening feeling to overtake them. Smolder and Spike also woke up for a moment, only to quickly fall back asleep. Garble rubbed his eyes and heard his mother’s loud gasp. He looked up from his spot and saw his parents’ scales glowing brightly as they made their way to the mouth of the cave. With his siblings still sleeping soundly, Garble decided to follow them alone.

“Do you think this is good or bad?” Flare asked, whispering to Amber.

“Good, it has to be. He was abandoned, Flare. Besides, it’s been a month, he wouldn’t just give him to some stranger that took a month to approach him, would he?”

“I can’t say. What would you tell the mother if you were Torch? Just stay calm and let’s see what he wants. Maybe he’s declaring him ours.” He took a deep breath and wrapped his tail around his mate’s.

Unfortunately, Garble couldn’t hear any of this, irritating him the longer they whispered. He continued following them until the hatchling got one glance at the entrance and his little heart stopped.

There was a dragon standing at the entrance, a bulky dragon, with grey-blue scales. His black armor gleamed in the sunlight, his crystal crown shone like fire, and his eyes though dark, were fierce and determined. The air around him seemed to demand respect and dripped with authority, and Garble couldn’t help but tremble with excitement.

“Dragon Lord Torch,” he whispered to himself as his eyes became saucers. He was just about to rush and shake Spike and Smolder awake when his mother’s voice echoed in the back of his head. ‘Garble, he needs his sleep.’ Garble took a good look at his siblings. They looked happy snuggled together, snoring. He’d tell them all about it later. They were going to be so jealous. Garble quietly crept closer, ducked behind a rock and listened to the conversation.

“Dragon Lord Torch, it’s an honor to welcome you to our cave,” Amber said bowing her head to her ruler. Torch seemed exhausted and grumbled something unintelligible. “Might I be so bold as to ask why you’re here?”

“The whelp, where is he?” Torch managed to say clearly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Flare and Amber swallowed a growing lump in their throats and moved to the side, showing Spike sleeping alongside Smolder.

Garble couldn’t help but wonder why Spike was so important. Though he loved his brother, he was so small. From what he heard from his mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, Torch typically cared only for big, strong dragons like his dad, or the dozens of other dragons like his dad, or Garble himself one day.

“Why is he snuggled with your hatchling?”

“It helps him sleep,” Amber said, forcing a smile to hide her growing anxiety. “I think he’s afraid to be left alone, I did find him abandoned after all. Though, I don’t think they mind, my children just adore him! Smolderessence is starting to pretend to be his mother at times, you must know how little ones are; and Garbuncle’s trying to teach Heathspike all about the Dragon Lands. He just loves being a big brother!”

Garble beamed at the complement, and for the rare instance that his mother used his full name without him being in some sort of trouble. His joy faded the moment he saw Torch’s scowl.

“You introduced your children to him as a member of the family before I gave the word? You named him? If the mother had come, this foolishness would have caused a debacle!” Torch said, snarling and baring his fangs at the dragoness. Garble watched as his mother shrunk just the tiniest bit before his father took a step forward, lowly growling as a winged draped around Amber.

Flare had a rational fear of Torch, as any dragon would. However, when he felt as if his mate was being threatened, even if she was being rightly admonished, such fears didn’t matter to him. There came a deep growl from Torch as he bore his fang and leaned towards the deep crimson dragon. The two began puffing themselves up and snorting small bursts of fire at one another.

“What should I have done then?” Amber said, interrupting the stand-off. The two dragons looked towards the dragoness, and Garble watched as his mother straightened herself up, and returned a glare at Torch.

“Excuse me?” Torch growled.

“He had some trouble sleeping at night, them being near him helped with that. What should I have done instead?” Amber clarified. “Should I have let him cry himself to sleep every night? Tell my children that the child was not to be even looked at with affection or care? Should I only tend to him when he cries and let him know that I would only care about him like a child needs when you say it’s alright? Perhaps I was brash, and some distance might have been a good idea, but I would like to know the alternative.”

Torch mulled over the question for a short while, his growls growing louder and louder, his scowl hardening. Flare’s spines seemed to raise as his eyes dilated in response. Then, Torch let out one final snort, sending out an intense plume of fire. “It’s fortunate for the both of you that no one has come seeking my aid, nor is there a rumor of a mother missing her hatchling. I see no reason to prolong this. The whelp’s yours, by decree of the Dragon Lord. May these lands forever know him as Heatspike-”

“Heathspike,” Amber corrected.

“-Heathspike Ironscale. May Bahamut bless you and your family as you care for him.” In a bright flash of light, the glow of Amber and Flare’s scales were no more, and Torch let out a loud yawn and he devolved into annoyed grumbling. “You’re fortunate my mate likes you. Waking me up early and sending me here. Like a few hours would have made a difference.”

“Thank you for this, Lord Torch. We promise to raise him well,” Amber said with a smile.

Garble meanwhile simply sat confused. Wasn’t Spike already part of their family? He was his little brother after all. Then a thought crept to the forefront of his mind: where was Spike’s egg before his mother brought him home? He recalled his mother showing him Smolder’s egg the day after it was laid.

Torch left not long after. Instantly, the dragons nearly collapsed. “Oh, thank Bahamut,” Garble heard his father say. “That came sooner than I expected.” Flare took several deep breaths before joyfully chuckling to himself. “I have another son. We have another son. We have another little hatchling. What did we just get ourselves into?”

“A son?” Amber said, holding back a smile. “Oh, you mean our guest. You’re not growing too attached to him, are you?”

“I’m not hearing the end of that for at least a few weeks, aren’t I?” Flare asked.

“When we’re in private, no, you won’t. I might stop teasing if you start making up time with him.” She looked towards the nest and frowned. “Flare, where’s Garble?”

“He should be-” There was a clattering as Garble hit a small stone with his tail, alerting his parents to his presence.

“Oh, Garble, you’re up early,” Amber said. “I suppose you saw the Dragon Lord? Was he everything you thought he’d be?”

Normally, Garble would have gone on a very long tirade about how great Torch was and how great a Dragon Lord he would soon be. His rants usually boiled down to: ‘I’m going to be the strongest and biggest dragon ever!’ This had been the pitch of every Dragon Lord in existence. Instead, Garble asked a very simple question. “Mama, why were you and the Dragon Lord talking about keeping Spike?”

It didn’t shock them that Garble asked about that. Amber and Flare lay on the ground on either side of Garble and craned their heads towards their eldest. “Well, Garble, that’s because I didn’t lay Spike’s egg,” Amber said.

“But you did mine and Smolder’s. I thought mamas had to lay their eggs.”

“We do, and I did lay your eggs, but not Spike’s. I found him already hatched.” She watched as Garble’s face scrunched up. “He was laid by someone, not me though.”

“Does that mean he belongs to someone else?”

“Well, that’s a bit complicated,” Amber paused, thinking about the nuances of the question.

“As of today, Spike is officially part of our family,” Flare said, deciding to be direct. “No one in the land can say differently.”

“But what about the dragons that laid his egg?”

“Not even they can say differently.”

“You see Garble,” Amber began, “sometimes a mother and father can do something horrible to their whelps. Spike didn’t have his birth parents with him when I brought him home. By all evidence, we think that he was abandoned.”

“Why would they abandon him? You always told me that parents love their whelps.”

“Oh, we do, more than you’ll ever know until you have hatchlings of your own. That doesn’t mean that all parents do. Sometimes they can feel nothing towards their children, or worse. I don’t know how or why, and I hope to never find out, but it happens. When I found Spike, it was so late and cold that I thought it best to bring him home with me.” Her face fell the more she thought about Spike being left alone, cold and hungry, before smiling when her thoughts turned to his first night with them. “He was certainly happy to be here. He certainly took a liking to you and Smolder. When I let Torch hold him, he screamed and cried, but with you, he was calm. I think he knows you’re going to be a great big brother.”

“But doesn’t this mean that he’s not really my brother?”

“No, Garbuncle, no, he is your brother. He’s a part of our family now. It’s just-” Amber paused for a moment. How could she put this in terms a six-year-old could understand? “You see, sometimes families get to make a wonderful choice. When someone’s alone, who needs a family and love, we can choose to be their family and love them. Some view this as something difficult to do, but I think it’s rather easy.” She watched as Garble moved closer to her. “Spike needed a home, a mother, a father, and a pair of wonderful siblings. One to teach him to be strong and brave, the other to teach him to be clever. The moment I found him, I knew that we could give Spike the family he needed, just like I knew that you and Smolder would love him the moment you saw him. That’s why Torch came by this morning, he wanted us to do just that.”

“But what if the dragon who had him comes back?”

Amber’s face fell. Essentially, they’d have to pry Spike from her cold dead fingers. However, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered what she’d say to them. ‘I understand you laid him, but finder’s keeper’s! Oh sorry, Torch just declared him ours. Too bad! I would love to give him back, but why was he buried under a pile of eggshells? Sweetheart, you’ll have to kill me before I give you my son.’ She began to feel a bit queasy the more she thought about meeting his birth parents.

“Well, if that happens, me and her will need to discuss a few things. Some very hard things,” Amber said.

“I personally wouldn’t worry. If they haven’t come yet, chances are they won’t. It’s safe to say that Spike is here to stay,” Flare said, nuzzling his now worried mate.

Garble smiled. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want him to go.”

“None of us do,” Amber said. “Garble, don’t tell Smolder about our little chat, I’d rather talk to her first, alright?”

Garble nodded. “Mama, can I have something to eat? I’m hungry.”

“Of course, how about an emerald?”

Garble nodded and followed his mother, while his father went and curled around Spike and Smolder. Then he paused for a moment, and looked towards his sleeping siblings, particularly Spike. It was strange hearing that he had to choose to love Spike. However, the more he looked at his little brother, thinking about all the good times and fights they would share, he began to realize that his mother was right, it was a very easy choice to make. After all, he was Spike’s big brother. Who else would teach him to be a proper dragon?

Chapter 5: Meet the Relatives

It was apparent to Amber, now more than ever, that she should have told her mother and grandmother about Spike the day after she found him. She could feel the burning glares from her elder’s burn through her scales, and the scales of her mate. She had been foolish, and made a jest at Flare, referring to Spike as their family’s guest. Her mother very nearly went for Flare’s throat, only to stop after hearing her grandchildren giggling and playing with one another. Amber’s brother in-law, Smog, and another, very old dragon named were calm, much to her relief. Finally, there was Topaz, who assured her granddaughter that she was ‘not mad, just disappointed’.

Topaz was a very old dragon, ancient in fact, not that she ever liked being reminded. She was a little over a thousand years old, give or take a few decades, and was one of the few creatures that could remember a time before Celestia’s rule over Equestria and the existence of her sister, Luna. In fact, she could state for a fact that House Platinum was far, far more arrogant than ponies of the current generation believed. She was a deep bronze color; her hide was wrinkled, and her spines had lost some hue over the centuries. Then there were her eyes. A deep yellow color all around. Even today they were beautiful. She wore garments, a robe to be precise, which was rare in the dragon lands, and a sash that signified her status as a shaman, but she preferred the term healer.

Then there was Jasper, Amber’s mother. She was a deep golden color, with pink fins, two horns on the side of her head, and a spear like tip on her tail.

Meanwhile, Smog was quiet, something that Amber praised Bahamut for. However, she knew that he was formulating plans to use her son for nefarious purposes, such as ensnaring an unsuspecting dragoness and taking her out on a date. He wasn’t bad looking, Amber could admit that. Smog was a moderate red, with almost pink spines lining his back. He also had a bad habit of snoring, and spewing smoke as he did so, his main drawback as a mate. Flare's parents had amazing foresight when giving Smog his name.

“Miserable child,” Amber’s mother muttered in a whisper that only Amber and Flare could hear. “Was I to wait until he was running before I got to meet my newest grandchild, or was I to find out about him when he molted? Oh, I know, I was to catch your mate’s brother using him in a bid to attract a hussy!” She looked over the two drakes and snorted fire at them.

“Jasper enough,” Topaz said, putting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “There’s no sense in getting angry with her. What’s done is done. What matters is that we get to meet him now, despite some questionable choices. Back in my day if there was an abandoned whelp, it went to the first mother to bring it home. No need to have an oaf like Torch get involved.”

“I agree with Topaz, I would have loved to know about my brother’s guest,” He said, leering towards Flare, who shifted uncomfortably. “but we can make up time now. And Jasper, what would be so bad about me taking the children for an occasional stroll?” Smog asked. “I'm remarkable with children. There’s no reason not to let me take them out, let them splash in the lava puddles, maybe take them to the play pit nearest to where the single dragonesses gather, and showcase how good I am with whelps.”

“That won’t work, you snore,” Smolder said the moment she heard her Uncle’s plan. Up until now, she’d been practicing her tail whips on a small stone, ignoring most of the discussion. “No one wants a snorer for a mate.”

“Smolderessence!” Amber cried.

“My mate, she’s not saying anything inaccurate,” Flare said, chuckling.

Smog began to growl as he glared at Flare. “Shouldn’t my little brother be furious when I’m insulted, by my kin no less?”

“In most situations, yes, but not if I have to tell lies, brother.”

Smog huffed. “I might make noise in my sleep-”

“And spew out smoke,” Smolder added. “I don’t know anyone that could stand that.”

“Smolder, please, I do not snore, nor do I spew out smoke if I did so. Those are just rumors, spread by malicious lizards envious of my strength and hoard.”

“But you do,” Smolder said, unwilling to relent. “You’re just lying. You spew out smoke all the time when you spend the night.”

“I had a cough; the air here isn’t good for me, Smolder! It’s a sickness, I’m fuming!” Smog forced a pathetic sounding cough, thinking that it might change Smolder’s attitude. It didn’t.

“You’ve had a cough since you were fifteen,” Flare said. He bent his head down and nudged his daughter who was now giggling as her uncle grew more flustered. “Now, Smolder, stop giving your uncle grief over his habits. Just because he can blot out the sun, doesn’t mean that we should point it out to him.”

“Okay,” Smolder said putting her hands over her mouth to control her giggles. “Can I play with Spike now? It’s unfair that Garble gets to play with him, and I don’t.” Smolder glared at a spot in the cave where an aged dragon stood hunched over her brothers.

The dragon was Spike and Garble’s great-great-great-great-grandfather, Furnace Ironscale, the patriarch of the Ironscale Clan. At around 1700 years old, he had received the title of Wyrm. To dragons such Garble’s parents, Wryms were noble, wise, and knowledgeable drakes that were worthy of respect from even the Dragon Lord himself

To Topaz, and dragons like her who could feel that they themselves already had one foot in the grave, Wyrms were half blind dragons likely missing a lung, who should stay in their cave and be taken care of by a younger dragons who could help them with their rapidly deteriorating bodies. The fact that wyrms could still function was nothing short of a miracle. Furnace Ironscale fit both descriptions to a T, but the second was more apparent.

His wrinkled, leathery skin that had been on top of gold for so long that his hoard had begun to fuse to underbelly. Many of his fangs were missing, and his jagged, chipped, and sickly colored claws had seen better days. Not to mention his joints creaked and snapped with the slightest movement of his body. His arms shook and trembled whenever they were in the air and he was so clumsy that he was about as likely to spear a hatchling by mistake as he was to pick them up.

“They’re not playing, little one, that old wyrm is christening Spike,” Topaz explained.

“And taking time away from me and two of my grandchildren,” Jasper muttered.

“Christening?”

“It’s an old ceremony, used to welcome hatchling into clans.” Topaz said, taking a place before the little dragoness. “Do you know about Bahamut, Smolder?”

“Uh-huh, he’s the dragon we pray to at night, and he makes our eggs and then gives them to our mamas and papas to hatch,” Smolder said, with a wide beaming smile. “When he’s deciding if we’re boys or girls, he gets a bag and pulls something out of it. If he pulls out gold, we’re boys and if he pulls out a colored flower, we’re girls. I got lucky and he pulled out a flower for my egg.”

Topaz nodded her head along with her granddaughter’s explanation. “Indeed,” She said solemnly, going along with the lie about where eggs came from. “During a christening we welcome new hatchlings into our family, and ask that Bahamut bless them, guide them when he can and protect them if possible. Come, perhaps you should watch.” She lowered her claw, grasped Smolder and placed her on her head. She brought them close enough to Furnace as to allow Smolder to see what was happening, but far enough that they could quickly retreat if she got fussy.

Smolder heard unintelligible murmuring, followed by a short pause. She watched as Garble added water to a bowl of gem powder, before coating his fingers in the resulting paste. He then drew a circle on Spike’s forehead with it. Furnace continued muttering his prayer. There came another pause, and Garble turned Spike around and marked the young whelp’s back with ash, depicting a crudely drawn five headed, winged serpent. At this Spike began to squirm and fuss, drawing the attention of Amber. After a final round of muttering, Garble sprinkled some platinum dust atop Spike’s head. With that, Amber came and scooped up Spike in her grasp, and began to clean him, while Furnace took his leave, muttering farewells to the remaining dragons.

“That’s it? What was all that stuff for?” Smolder asked.

“It’s to remind Spike where he comes from, what he should leave behind, and who he should try to be like,” Topaz explained. “The circle represents the father of all dragons, Asgorath, who created the very world on which we walk. He also created the first of our kind. The second represents the wicked goddess Tiamat, who wished to burn the world her father made.”

“But I saw papa doing that because that big dragon with the crown said to.”

“Ah, I see. In some instances, a controlled burn is good for the land, but Tiamat wished for a world of ash. If we were to raze everything without thought, we would lose many treasures that this world has. Which is why we pray and sprinkle platinum dust on Spike, in hopes that he follows a more suitable path for a dragon.”

“Like what?” Smolder asked.

“Things that you’ll learn when you’re older,” Topaz said.

“I hate when grown-ups say that!” Smolder whined. “I wanna know now!”

“Very well,” Topaz said with a sigh, giving in almost too easily. Smolder grinned wickedly as she crawled onto Topaz’s snout, to look her in the eyes. “Smolder, one of the tenets that Bahamut fostered pertains to that of family, so we should focus on getting you engaged.”

There was a short silence as Smolder’s wide smile fell. “Never mind,” She said, shrinking. “I’ll wait. Forever. Boys are icky.” Though she couldn’t see it, her father smiled at the statement, while her mother rolled her eyes.

“Are you sure? I know this wonderful little whelp. Sure, he can’t read, hates listening to fairytales, and has poor manners and a poor attitude towards girls, but if you feel grown-up, we can start arranging for you two to wed and-”

“No!” Smolder shouted, eyes wide as if she’d seen a Roc. “He sounds like a big jerk! I don’t want to court him or anyone!”

Flare’s smile only grew wider, earning him a hard, unamused nudge from his mate.

“If you’re that against it, I suppose you can wait till your older,” Topaz said with a sigh. “What a shame.” Topaz placed Smolder on the ground near Garble and allowed herself a small smile. Manipulating her great-grandchildren was almost too easy. Almost.

Soon, Spike was cleaned of his markings and placed on the ground before his family, joined by both Garble and Smolder. Spike was wary of nearly all the new faces that crowded around him, Smog’s especially, but with the presence of his siblings, who showed affection to their elders, then towards Spike, he came out of his shell just a bit.

“He’s certainly shier than Garble and Smolder were,” Jasper said, when Spike finally didn’t shrink from her coming close. She and Topaz gave him an affectionate nuzzle, earning them little coos from their newest grandchild. “He certainly seems more warry of those with sharper features.” She glanced towards Smog, who had notably sharp claws and spines, and larger fangs that would frighten anyone that wasn’t a dragon.

“He’s a babe, Jasper,” Topaz said. “We look and smell more like his mother, of course he’s going to warm up to us quicker than he will Smog. Besides, he can’t help it if his breath smells like smoke and scares him away.”

“As funny as that joke is, being shy just gives him a certain charm, I’m sure that he’ll grow out of it soon enough.” Smog looked towards Amber with a growing smile. “When he does, would I be allowed to spend some quality time with my dear youngest nephew?”

“Smog,” Amber said with a not too kind expression. “It is very unlikely that I would hand my children over to you so you can use them to bait a dragoness.”

“Very unlikely,” Smog said, grinning from ear to ear. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance.” Little did anyone know that Spike would later become one of greatest and one of the only wingmen for his uncle.

Author's Note

I really wanted to show off Spike's new extended family, and then a thought popped into my head, what if I made their family members, the dragon from Dragonshy? Thus Smog was born, and is made fun of for his poor smoking habit. He probably has an official name or a fan name, but I decided on Smog. One can only imagine what Garble, Smolder, and Spike will think once they find out how those horrid ponies chased him out of his home for absolutely no reason.

Also, a small character guide for those interested because there were a few this chapter:

Topaz Goldwing: The Ironscale Siblings’ Great-Grandmother. A resident healer, both patient and intelligent. One of the few dragons that doesn’t mind ponies all that much, but no one can say why.

Jasper Silvertail: The Ironscale Siblings’ Grandmother. Has a small amount of knowledge pertaining to medicine. Has a less than pleasant view of equine.

Smog Ironscale: The Ironscale Siblings’ Uncle. Has a bad habit of spewing smoke as he snores at night. Surely, this won’t cause any trouble for him or anyone else in the future. Doesn’t mind ponies all that much, but that is likely because he’s never actually met one.

Furnace Ironscale: The Ironscale Siblings’ Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather. The old Patriarch of the Ironscale Clan. He has lived longer than nearly all creatures in Equestria, save for Discord. Despises ponies.

Yes, there will be a short time skip next chapter.

Chapter 6: Into the Quarry

Three years had passed since Heathspike Ironscale had been adopted by his parents, and already he was growing to be a fine dragon. He was quick and curious, though a bit weaker than most whelps his age. However, what he lacked for in strength, he made up for with a tenacity not seen for millennia in the Dragon Lands. Though, it was this tenacity that often landed him in some sort of trouble, like his daily frays with his brother.

Spike bit his lower lip to keep from giggling as he slowly approached Garble from behind. The two of them, and Smolder, had an agreement. If he or his sister could beat him, Garble had to take them to the quarry where he and his friends played and dug for gems. Garble had explained that the quarry was for big dragons, and now that Spike was three, and no longer sucking his thumb while he slept, Spike was sure that he was big enough. He was going win a fight one of these days, and today felt like a good day, because he had a plan. A secret plan. The most awesome secret plan that ever existed.

Spike saw Garble curled up on the floor, seemingly unaware of his surroundings, but most importantly, unaware of Spike. Spike was about as stealthy as any three-year old could be, which was not very stealthy. He slowly approached, the smile on his face growing as he wagged his little tail, got down low and pounced, letting loose a yelp. Garble quickly pivoted and bore his fangs at Spike, readying himself for the impact. The dragons became a wriggling, tumbling ball as they fought, nipping at each other. It lasted for but a few moments, as Spike was soon forced to the ground by a powerful claw. The drake slammed his tail and flailed his limbs vainly, desperate to break his brother’s hold, but Garble’s grasp was topo strong.

“You shouldn’t have yelled,” Garble said. He had Spike firmly pinned on his stomach. All that was needed was a single bite, and he’d win their little skirmish yet again. However, being a good big brother, he knew Spike needed to learn from his mistakes, and that meant critiquing him. “You also need to watch out for small rocks, they gave you away before the scream did.” He thought for a moment. “What were you thinking when you planned this?”

“I would tackle you and then bite you and then win,” Spike explained, struggling under his brother’s iron grip. “If that didn’t work-”

“If? It’s never gonna work! I’m too big, Spike. I thought Smolder would have helped you fight me.”

“She is helping! That’s why if my plan didn’t work, I’d be the distraction.”

“Distra-” Smolder suddenly slammed into Garble, sending him tumbling off Spike. When he regained his footing, he saw his little sister on all fours, baring her fangs and growling. Part of him was impressed, Smolder was completely silent, or maybe he was so focused on Spike, he never noticed Smolder despite any mistakes she made. The rest of him was annoyed, borderline peeved.

“Cheater,” Garble sneered, unwilling to admit that his siblings had outsmarted him.

Smolder remained low to the ground, growling at Garble. “We. Are going. To your digging spot,” She said as threateningly has she could. Unfortunately, she looked cuter than she did frightening. While she glared menacingly, she had inflated her cheeks and scrunched her little nose. Had any seen her, ponies would be calling her adorable.

Garble lunged at his sister to grab her, however, Smolder proved too fast for him and dodged to the side. She smacked her brother across his muzzle with her tail, dazing him for a moment. She went for a second strike, but Garble recovered, and caught the tail with his teeth, throwing her what seemed like across the cave, but in actuality was maybe a yard or two. Getting up, Smolder began to run forward, when her foot hit an uneven portion of cave, and she tripped. She fell flat on her stomach with an oof.

It was a chance to take his sister down. Garble began to charge forward, but then he felt a tug on his tail and lost his balance. As he fell, he looked back and saw Spike with his tail in his mouth, pulling it towards him with all the strength that he could muster.

Seeing her brother on the ground, stunned, Smolder didn’t wait for him to recover. She slammed herself on top of Garble, earning her a grunt of pain. Spike wasted no time in flinging himself on top of the pile. The world was spinning, his ears were burning, and there was a haze around him that made him think that this was all a dream. Almost without thinking, he delivered a powerful bite to the back of his brother’s neck. Garble let out a gasp and the cave went silent.

Spike released Garble and lifted his head, along with Smolder, seeing what they had done, but not quite believing it. Garble lay motionless and wide-eyed, but most importantly defeated. A smile began to spread across their faces before the younger dragons erupted into cheering as they bounced on top of their defeated brother, hugging each other and laughing.

“We did it!” They cried out repeatedly, their voices echoing through the cave, alerting their mother that something wonderful had happened to her youngest children.

Spike was the first to get off Garble. “So, can we go now? I wanna find a big gem!”

“Yeah, I wanna see what you and your friends do!” Smolder added. “All my friends want to do is carry around rocks like they’re eggs, and play defend the nest; I hate that game! I have to be the pony half the time.”

Garble lifted himself off the ground and looked between his siblings. He snorted out a small cloud of smoke before grumbling an okay. A dragon wasn’t a dragon if he didn’t keep his promises to those he cared about. If they were dragons he hated, it’d be a different story; he could break the promise, and no one would care. Alas, here sat his siblings, two of the few dragons that did matter to him. Hopefully, his friends wouldn’t mind him bringing them. Who was he kidding? They were going to be furious.

“Follow me,” he grumbled. Spike and Smolder giggled as they followed their brother. As they made their way towards the mouth of the cave, their mother’s large, yellow tail slid in front of the children, cutting them off from the exit.

“Garble, where do you think you’re going with your siblings?” Amber asked, creating a circle with her body, surrounding her children.

“Gar-Gar’s showing us a place to dig for gems!” Spike said. “I’m gonna find a sapphire! Oh, oh, or a ruby! I wanna find a ruby instead!”

“You want to go dig for gems? Oh, Spike.” Amber saw how her son’s eyes seemed to shimmer the wider they grew. His excitement was plain to see, and she was sure that his siblings could teach him the basics of digging for gems rather easily. However, there was the matter of his size and the size of Garble’s friends. Letting out a sigh, she said, “Heathspike, I don’t think you’re ready to go out on your own just yet. Outside in the fields, other dragons can be a bit more intense than your brother is in the cave.”

“But Garble said that if me and Smolder ever beat him, it meant we were ready to play with his friends.”

“Did he now?” Her gaze fell on her oldest son. She was not looking happy. Garble merely bent his head down in embarrassment. “And have you beaten him in a fight?”

“Yeah, we just did!” Smolder said. “Spike did this thing where he pulled his tail when he was about to pounce, and then me and him jumped on Garble, and Spike bit him.”

Garble shrank further as his mother lifted a brow.

“So, can we go with him, please?” Spike begged.

She would have put her foot down then and there, but she made one unfortunate mistake: She looked her youngest son in the eyes. They were wide, innocent, and excited, so very excited. She could already see what was going on in his mind. He was going to grow up, just a little bit. For one afternoon, he would have no mother to baby him or look over his shoulder like how she did when she and the other mothers brought their whelps together to play and dig for small gems that they had buried the day prior. It would just be him and his siblings out in the world, having an adventure digging for gems amongst the big kids.

“Very well,” Amber said with a sigh. “If you’re siblings stay by you, you can go. But, if something happens, you’re not going out again like this until you’re at least Smolder’s age, understood?”

“Okay!” Spike said, giving his mother’s snout an affectionate hug.

“Garbuncle, keep an eye on both of them,” Amber said. “Smolder, keep an eye on your little brother.”

“I will,” Garble said.

“Okay,” Smolder added, coming to Spike’s side.

Their mother’s tail lifted, and Garble led his siblings out of the cave.

The walk was only thirty minutes, but to Garble it felt as if hours had rolled by. He constantly looked back at his siblings, wondering what kind of trouble they would find themselves in. Garble had been silent the entire time, not that Spike noticed, he had been talking the entire time, asking questions without bothering to listen for answers. Garble didn’t even find him all that annoying. No, the annoying one was Smolder.

“You shouldn’t be so grumpy just because we beat you,” Smolder teased, still filled with pride. Her smirk was wide, and her posture was reminiscent of Dragon Lord Torch himself.

Garble groaned, clenching his fists. His sister’s teasing was starting to grate his nerves, it was only tempered by the knowledge that Spike’s joy and laughter was from a place of excitement and not malice. “Just be quiet,” he muttered. Smolder and Spike giggled to themselves. They never liked to admit when they were beaten either. The trio came to the ridge that overlooked a small pit that had several laughing whelps running about, fighting each other and digging for gems. Some wagered their gems on fights with other dragons, others attacked and hoped for the best. The winners went home happy, the losers went home to lick their wounds.

“Let me do the talking. The last thing we need is a fight, Smolder,” Garble said looking at his sister.

“Jewel was being a jerk! She deserved that punch.”

“Smolder, I had to fight her brother!” Garble said, recalling how Inferno Rockfist lived up to his family’s name.

“I heard you won that fight.”

“It still hurt! When we get there, you don’t talk to anyone, you to, Spike,” Garble ordered.

“What? But I wanna play with you and your friends-”

“Heathspike, just look for gems,” Garble growled.

“Fine,” Spike mumbled as they walked down a path into the quarry.

It didn’t take long for most of the drakes to take notice of Garble approaching. Five drakes scampered towards him and collectively tackled him to the ground. They were Clump, Fume, Fizzle, Spear, and Charcoal. There was a small tussle between them, a few nips and a tail attack every so often, but all of it was mostly harmless.

Not that Spike saw it that way. Seeing what he perceived to be his brother in danger, he very nearly jumped into the fray to assist him. It was only thanks to Smolder, who firmly held the tip of his tail, that kept him from making a mess of things, and likely getting hurt. For Smolder, the display was an average greeting.

“I thought you were never going to come!” Fizzle said, as Garble finally pried himself away from his friends. Fizzle had lost three gems to Garble in a fight the other day and was determined to replace them. He looked behind Garble, and his eyes narrowed. “Who are the pipsqueaks? You weren’t followed, were you?”

“No, I had to bring them, this is Spike and Smolder,” Garble explained.

“Wait, Spike? Why did you bring your baby brother?” Clump glared at Garble, then at Spike.

“I’m not a baby,” Spike argued, “I’m already learning to fight!”

“Garble why did you bring your sister, to?” Fume gestured towards the small orange dragon. “This is supposed to be a boy only digging spot! No girls allowed!”

“I don’t see a sign that says I can’t be here!” Smolder growled, coming up behind Spike.

“That’s enough!” Garble said, groaning, effortlessly holding his siblings back from further engaging with the drakes. There was nothing Spike hated more than being called a baby, and Smolder despised when a drake said, ‘no girls allowed’. Already this was shaping up to be a lovely afternoon that everyone would enjoy. “Look, I promised to bring them if they ever beat me in a fight.” Garble sighed and looked downward. “Which they did.”

“They beat you?! How did your baby brother beat you?!”

“With my sister,” Spike said, mimicking Smolder’s prideful grin.

“That means we could beat you guys up,” Smolder said, sticking her tongue out at the drakes.

“Smolder, Spike, just go dig for gems!” Garble gave them a shove towards an undisturbed part of the pit. They shot the older drakes one last look before doing as they were told. “Look, we normally fight until someone gets nipped on the back of the neck. Smolder sent Spike and distracted me, then they got lucky. After tomorrow, they won’t be coming back, just let them dig for now, so I don’t get in trouble.”

“Why should we? You’re the one that made that promise.”

“It’s either they get to dig, or I let Arrow know what really happened to his Breeze Emerald.”

Their mouths fell open, and their eyes went wide. Silence fell over the group before Charcoal manage to say, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Arrow Firefang was the biggest, meanest, toughest dragon their age. Together, Garble’s friends had eaten a Breeze Emerald that he had dropped. Garble was the only drake that had seen them take it. However, because they didn’t win it in a fight or a contest, Garble didn’t want a piece. When Arrow had come looking for his gem, everyone kept quiet, but they all knew that he knew that they had eaten it. Without proof, say a witness, he couldn’t attack and take retribution, not without getting in trouble. Tomorrow Arrow may very well have a witness.

“Fine, just keep them away from our spots,” Spear sneered. “I don’t want them stinking up any gems we find.”

Garble let out a relieved sigh as he watched his friends leave. With them taken care of, he went to join Spike and Smolder. It was time that his little brother had a real lesson in digging.

Garble quickly went through the basics, with Smolder adding little tips and tricks that their mother had been teaching her since she turned six. “Right here,” Garble said, showing Spike a solid piece of land. “Always make sure that the ground you start on is firm and not squishy, otherwise there might be a cave in when you dig. You don’t have to worry about any big rocks falling down, we already got rid of them.”

“Can I start digging?” Spike asked.

“Not yet. Stay away from my friends, especially if you have any gems. If you find one, eat it as soon as you get it. And remember, go slow. If you try and go fast, and don’t find anything, you’ll be tired and hungry. That feeling stinks. Trust me.”

With that, Spike and Smolder quickly went to work, while Garble retreated to his own digging spot. His pace was slower than normal, taking care to keep an eye on Spike and Smolder, and another on his friends.

“Do you think we’ll find anything?” Spike asked his sister, in a near whisper.

“Garble always does. I hope it’s like his!” She licked her lips at the thought of finding her very own gem. A large topaz she could bring home and show her parents and enjoy before bed. Spike had a similar fantasy, only he desired a ruby, a delicious ruby. Hours passed and the two found small gem bits, but nothing truly amazing or worthwhile. Garble had managed to find three large gems, one of which he ate the moment he found it. Spike himself was starting to get discouraged. It seemed that everyone, save for him and Smolder were finding decent sized gems.

Suddenly, there came a squeal of joy from his sister. He turned his head and saw her holding a decently sized, garnet. Not a topaz, but it was something and she enjoyed eating it. With that, Spike decided that he was going to find a ginormous gem, even if it killed him. Spike began to speed up just a bit until, finally, his claw hit something hard. Clearing away the dirt, his eyes went wide, and a smile broke out on his face.

“A Fire Ruby,” Spike said in a soft whisper, taking the gem out of the hole. His first real find, and it was one of the rarest gems in the world, and his favorite. He had to show Garble.

Smolder heard his snickering and saw the prize in his hands. “Lucky,” she pouted. Maybe she could find one just as good if she kept at it.

Unfortunately, Smolder was not the only one to see the gem Spike found. Charcoal Shadowhide, a near black dragon with two horns sprouting from the top of his head and a tuft of sickly green hair, caught the faintest, but unmistakable shimmer of the Fire Ruby. His luck had been plagued today, with him finding only a measly amber and a small crumb sized emerald. Upon seeing Spike’s find, his stomach growled, reminding him how hungry he was.

A thought, a very foolish, immature, but all-around average thought for a whelp in his position crept into his head. Little Spike wanted to play with the big drakes, so it was only fair that Charcoal showed him everything that they did firsthand. He crept into the shadows of the quarry, and nearly vanished. Like most dragons, his clan name was used to describe certain attributes of his family. Being a Shadowhide, his scales allowed him to blend into the shadows, letting him to sneak up on unsuspecting prey with ease. Prey like Heathspike Ironscale.

Spike was halfway towards his brother when Charcoal made his move. The little drake nearly leapt out of his skin the moment that Charcoal appeared out of nowhere.

“Heathspike, right?” Charcoal said, creeping closer to the little hatchling.

Spike clenched the gem close to his chest, taking a few steps back from Charcoal. His instincts were telling him that something was off. The air around the dragon put him on edge and he could already feel himself shaking, as if his body was debating if he should run away or start attacking. Before either could make a sudden move, Smolder slid in front of Spike, already in a fighting stance. “What do you want?!” She said with a growl, glaring daggers at the bigger dragon.

Charcoal rolled his eyes. Of course, he’d need to deal with Garble’s bratty sister. Still, she was smaller than he was, easy pickings for a dragon as strong as him. “I just wanted to say hi, tell him about how things are run. Like the games we play, King of the Hoard, Pony Hunt, tail wrestling, and what happens when someone really wants the gem you have.”

The tail lash seemed to come out of nowhere, and Spike was knocked to the ground. However, he managed to retain a grip on his gem. Smolder let out a small roar as she leapt at Charcoal, only for the dragon to deliver a headbutt to her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. As he expected, easy pickings. Charcoal licked his lips as he walked closer to Spike, who whimpered as he shifted to lift himself off the ground. However, any plans Charcoal had to take the ruby were dashed the moment he was forcefully turned and punched.

The high cry of pain caught Spike’s attention, and through watery eyes he saw his brother standing above Charcoal. He was not happy.

Charcoal had to demand his body not to shiver or shrink as Garble’s glare tore through him. He quickly stood, got on all fours and huffed out a small burst of fire. “I’m taking that gem, Garble,” he said, managing to swallow a growing lump in his throat.

Garble got on all fours, slamming his tail against the floor like he’d seen his father and uncle do when they fought, though his lacked the sound of cracking thunder. “You’ll have to go through me.”

Garble’s statement was scarcely above a whisper, but there was not a drake in the quarry that didn’t hear the challenge. Soon, the two were surrounded by several drakes. Wagers of gems were made, and sides were taken. They cheered on the combatants as the two drakes began to circle each other, emulating their parents by baring their fangs, striking the ground with their tails, and roaring as loud as they could, spewing fire as they did. If there was an older pony present, the soft, frankly adorable roars would have had all mares fawning over them.

The fins along Charcoal’s neck and tail twitched, as did his ears. He was looking for an opening. He thought he saw one, and he rushed Garble, who dodged to the left. Charcoal swung his fist only for Garble to evade and then tackle his friend. Garble managed to get in one good punch before being kicked off. Charcoal tried to follow up with a counterattack, but Garble was too swift, dodging easily and managed to strike him thrice before Charcoal, finally, managed to punch him once. Garble quickly retaliated and knocked Charcoal to the ground. With that, Charcoal began to grow desperate.

As Spike and Smolder watched the fight, they had a creeping dread rising in their bellies about the fight they had this morning with Garble. Whoever it was that was fighting Charcoal, he was not the drake that they routinely roughhoused with. No, the dragon in front of them was a monster, an absolute brute, and they were mesmerized.

Charcoal struck Garble twice, once across the face, the second hitting his shoulder. Garble seemed unfazed and spat a burst of fire into his opponent’s face, blinding Charcoal for a moment and sending him into a frenzy. He began to swing wildly, claws open. On his first swing, Garble evaded easily, on the second, he managed to parry and strike back, pushing Charcoal back into a small group of drakes, acting as the ring’s border. He was promptly shoved back towards Garble, and at that moment Charcoal made his third swing, and his claw raked across the side of Garble’s face.

The crowd collectively gasped and went silent. Seeing Garble’s head turned, his hand covering the cheek that he had scratched, Charcoal froze as reality slowly dawned on him. He’d used his claws, and claws were never to be used. There was a strict difference between whelps fighting and nipping at one another and whelps using their claws.

“I-I didn’t- I thought you’d- That- You should have just given me the gem!” Charcoal cried, unable to think of anything else to say. He felt his mouth go dry as he thought about the trouble he was in when his parents heard about this. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he finally whimpered.

“You didn’t,” Garble sneered, moving his hand. There wasn’t a scratch on him. The group of drakes erupted into cheers and calls to continue, all while Charcoal’s mind seemed to fry. He’d used his claws, things he used to clean and skin animals, that his parents used to defend their hoards from other dragons and rend steel like it was cheap plaster, and they did absolutely nothing. Garble swung and clocked Charcoal in the side of the face, sending him stumbling, and another swing sent him to the ground. He heard Charcoal fumble for words, but anything he managed to force out was gibberish. Seeing his friend had lost the will to continue, Garble won.

“You leave my little brother alone, got it!?” Garble shouted, grabbing Charcoal by the arm and jerking him upwards. Charcoal nodded furiously. Dropping him, Garble turned to face the rest of his group. “That goes for the rest of you!” The crowd went silent. Better yet they seemed hesitant to respond. Satisfied, Garble pushed past the spectators and then helped his siblings to their feet. “We’re leaving,” he said. Smolder and Spike did not argue.

The moment they returned home, and their mother saw the bruise on her youngest child, they were forced to tell their parents everything while Spike was tended to. Though she hated that it happened, Amber was thankful that a single tail attack was all that had happened. Some whelps weren’t as lucky to only get a bruise, and none lucky enough to keep a Fire Ruby on their first outing. As their story neared its end, and Garble told his father about his fight, Flare let out a loud laugh.

“That brat uses his claws and still loses! I expect no less from my boy. Garble, you make this old lizard proud!” He turned to his youngest son. “And Spike, first time digging, and you find a Fire Ruby! Luck is an admirable attribute to have, is it not?”

“I guess, it didn’t feel too good when Charcoal attacked me for it,” Spike said, his grip on the gem tightening.

“You better hurry and eat it,” Flare said teasingly. “you never know if someone might get hungry in the middle of the night.”

Spike looked at the ruby in his claw and let out a saddened sigh. He suddenly winced when his sister placed a moist cloth against his bruised cheek and tried to swat her away.

“Stop that, she’s just trying to help the swelling go down,” his mother chided.

“Okay. Mama, I don’t think I’m ready to play with Garble’s friends.”

“Unfortunately, Spike. I’m sorry for letting you go, but I think it’s an important lesson to learn. Don’t let that fight discourage you. You’ll grow and get bigger and stronger. Besides, you know what it’s going to be like when you’re Garble’s age and have a group of your own, so you’ll be ready when the time comes, just like your big brother.”

His big brother. Spike looked at Garble, then the ruby, and began to reflect on the fight he had with Charcoal. Yeah, he was going to be just like his big brother. He winced in pain again when Smolder moved the cloth, and glanced at Garble, who was completely fine. “Papa, why didn’t Garble get hurt?” Spike asked. “Mama always says that we shouldn’t use our claws when we’re playing because we could hurt each other, but Garble was fine.”

“Your brother is an Ironscale, Spike. Our clan has thick, tough scales and thicker hides, natural armor! Nothing short of a Steelspine can pierce our hides!” His father said with no small amount of pride.

“Does that mean we can use claws when we fight in the cave?!” Spike asked.

“No!” Amber said, rather loudly. She saw her son flinch and calmed herself, while still keeping a firm tone. “Heathspike, I forbid you from using your claws anywhere in this cave. That goes double for the both of you,” she said looking between Smolder and Garble.

“Yes, mama,” the children said in unison.

That night, when all was quiet and the family was fast asleep, Garble felt someone nudge his side once, twice, thrice, before he was shaken awake. He opened his eyes and there beside him sat Spike.

“Spike, what is it?” There came a clatter, as half of the Fire Ruby landed Infront of Garble. He squinted and saw that Spike held about a fourth of the original Ruby. “What’s this for?”

“You had to make sure I got to keep it, you deserve it, at least some of it.” Spike lifted what remained of his gem and took a bite. “I gave some to Smolder before bed.”

That explained why she looked so happy when she and Spike snuggled. His brother was almost too nice. “Of course I made sure you got to keep it,” Garble said, picking up his piece. He wasn’t about to say no to a Fire Ruby of all things. “You’re my little brother, I’m always going to have your back, especially if someone bigger tries to mess with you.” He saw that his brother had lost his fire from earlier this morning. “Are you okay?”

“When me and Smolder beat you this morning, you weren’t really fighting us, were you?” There was a short silence.

“So what?” Garble said. “You and Smolder are still small. I don’t want to hurt you guys.” Spike grumbled and fell to his stomach. “I wouldn’t let that fight with Charcoal make you feel bad. I used to lose all the time to bigger drakes, then I trained and got tougher, now I can kick all their butts! We just have to toughen you up. Then, when you get in a real fight, you’re going to win.”

“How long will that take?”

“Years, but you’ll have me, and dad, and Uncle Smog, and even Smolder to help you. You’re going to be one of the strongest dragons there are when you’re bigger!”

“And then I’ll be able to beat up the bigger dragons like you? I really wanna learn how punch and dodge like you did!” Spike began to grow louder the more excited he became, until a glowing yellow eye pierced through the darkness. There came a low rumbling, and the eye narrowed. Their mother was giving them a silent warning, and failure to abide by it would be a fate worse than death, no desert for a whole week. Spike’s training could wait for a day or two. For now, it was time for bed. Garble was left in his spot, while Spike went and snuggled close to his big sister. Once again, the cave was silent.

Author's Note

This chapter took a little longer to complete, but apparently it's Dragon Day on EQD, so let's all pretend like that was planned.

Chapter 7: A Princess's Fight

Ember Brightcrest’s eyes fluttered opened the moment the sound of shifting metal reached her little ears. The princess stretched her body and slowly stumbled her way towards her mother who was going through part of her hoard. Ember was hoping to get a bit more sleep, but it wasn’t something she’d make a fuss over, because today was the day she went to a quarry.

Normally, Torch kept her by his or her mother's side nearly all day, for her own safety he would say. After all, she was so small and fragile that the drakes in the quarry would have no qualms taking advantage of her. However, her mother had been promising for months that she would have a chat with the Dragon Lord and make him see reason.

Ember bit the tip of her mother’s tail and gave it a tug.

“Not now, Ember,” Blaze said, continuing to shift through her hoard. She let out a joyous gasp and picked up a small handful of treasures. She then turned and lay them down at Ember’s feet. There was an array of bracelets, anklets, circlets, rings, and even a few necklaces. She looked at Ember expectantly.

“What’s all this for?” Ember asked, kicking the pile.

“There’s a gathering today, and I thought that you and I could go.” Blaze gave Ember a smile. “My friend is going to be bringing her daughter, and maybe her sons. I thought you all could get acquainted and play together. I hear her son is a fighter, maybe you could spar with him, or parade around with her daughter, Smolder. She can be as grumpy as you. Oh, she also has a little hatchling. He’s just a sweetheart.”

“They sound stupid, and so does the gathering,” Ember said, without even considering the offer. Ember hated gatherings. She hated being adorned in jewelry, she hated all the adults fawning over her, and she hated the boulderheads that either snickered at her or hated her.

There were several reasons gatherings existed. The first was parents wanting to flaunt their wealth and status in the lands. The second reason was to make their daughter’s look desirable. The more adorned they were in trinkets; the more likely a drake’s head was to turn when they were older. Finally, it was an excuse for mothers and fathers to doll up their daughters and make them look adorable, though no one would actually admit this.

“I wanna go to a quarry today!”

Blaze’s smile faded. “Have you talked to your father about this?”

“No, you said you would. You have to. He'd just say I’m too small and weak if I ask again.” At that Ember began to fume. “That’ll change today, I’m gonna get so many gems and beat up so many dragons-!”

“Ember, remember the story about your father and the Slingtails? Can you remind me of the lesson I had to force into that thick skull of his?”

“Fly over or around the canyon, never through it,” Ember grumbled.

“Exactly. So, what would randomly challenging other dragons be?”

“Flying through the canyon.”

“Correct. Are you sure that you’re ready for a quarry if you need to be reminded?” Blaze saw the determined look on her daughter’s face as she gave her mother a single nod, before glaring at the jewelry. Reflecting on the dozens of scenarios like this one, Blaze had been promising Ember that she’d be able to go to a quarry for weeks. Aside from that, Ember needed to be able to make mistakes if she was going to learn, or apply the rules that she'd learned in real life. “I’ll have a chat with your father and see if I can’t pry you away from him for a day. Just don’t go boasting or yelling once you get there, alright?”

At this, Ember happily nodded.

Smolder looked adorable. Amber nearly let out a squee as her daughter happily examined herself in the cave’s small pool of water. Usually there was some push back from girls her age, but Smolder was almost eager to put on jewelry anytime a gathering was mentioned. Smolder insisted that it was because she looked better than the other whelps, not because she liked it. If only her brothers were as enthusiastic.

Garble was refusing to budge, and Spike, poor little innocent Spike, was mimicking him. It had been two weeks since his first fight and Spike was adamant about being just like his big brother. They both had their arms crossed, but Garble was noticeably grumpier. Spike kept glancing at Garble, smiling when he saw that they were both doing the same thing.

“We’re not going,” Garble huffed.

“Yeah, I wanna train,” Spike said. “I finally punched papa’s claw without my thumb in my fist and he didn’t him need to tell me not to!”

“It’s true, he did,” Flare attested.

“Well both of you have to come,” Amber said, staying firm. “I’m going, and your father is going for less than admirable reasons.” Amber gave her mate a glare. He’d heard that Smolder was friendly with a drake during the last gathering, and was sticking close to his little girl. “There’s no one that will be able to watch you.” Amber had asked her mother and grandmother, but they both thought it better if the drakes went, especially Garble.

“Well, there’s Smog,” Flare said. “I’m sure he’d love watching them.”

Amber was suddenly put on edge. “I’m sure he would, as I’m sure that he’d love playing with them near a certain spot with a slew of young, unmarried dragons!” Amber said with a near snarl. Unfortunately, her sons had also heard, and they looked more than happy. “I’m starting to hate today. Flare, one of us is having a long conversation with that heated fool before we leave.”

“And I promise I’ll make sure he understands everything that’s expected of him.” Flare left the cave, but it didn’t take long for him to return with his brother in tow. In fact, it took him only five minutes to have Smog in the cave. Amber was starting to think that this was planned. She growled and her eyes narrowed, smoke spewed out of her mouth and she was on the verge of crouching low, a sign that someone was having their throat ripped out.

Seeing that his mate was on the verge of killing him or his brother, Flare decided it best to explain himself. “A fussy whelp is not fun for anyone, Amber, two is even worse.”

“And I’m guessing your brother was more than happy to take the two of them, Spike especially, off our hands?” Amber asked, glaring at Smog who lingered behind his brother. “And it seems you are more than willing to enable him.”

“Like I said I’ll talk to him about his little plan to bait a dragoness. I’ll set him straight, don’t worry. I’m sure you have some words for Spike.”

“Hmph! I’ll let Garble and Spike know that they’re off the hook.” As she turned, she shot Smog a look before tending to her children.

Flare went over to his brother and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him close. “Smog, let me be clear here, this is not one of your social gatherings. I expect you to play with Spike. Have him run around, maybe even chase him, have him attack you or try to help him be stealthy. Don’t try to make this about you or any dragoness, this outing should be about your nephew. Be caring, be loving, be firm and teach him to be disciplined-” Flare looked behind him, Amber was getting Garble to help Smolder put on a last bit of jewelry with Spike. His voice became low, “-and afterwards they will flock to you like a group of whelps to a pile of gems.” He gave his brother a smirk and gestured towards Amber. “Trust me, they want a responsible mate.”

“I understand, brother,” Smog said with a smile.

Yesterday had been the most irritating day of Torch’s life. After overseeing a long drawn out fight between two of the most cowardly, unfit and pathetic dragons he’d ever met, over a common topaz, he hoped that he would have time to rest before needing to handle whatever today had for him. Unfortunately, his mate had other plans.

“Torch, I’m taking Ember to a quarry.”

Torch’s eyes shot opened as his pupils turned to pinpricks. In his mind he could already see his precious little princess, the most prized gem of his hoard, beaten, bloodied, and hungry after having a run in with a bigger, greedier, vile whelp. He could see her tear stained cheeks as she ran in explaining through sobs how she’d been beaten and her gems stolen. Seeing the phantom image of his daughter hurt by a despicable rat made him want to find the non-existent perpetrator and make him wish that his parents had never laid his egg.

“I’ve discussed this with Ember, she’s too small, too fragile to go to a quarry!” He nearly shouted, rising from his spot. He took a breath to calm himself before he did something he regretted and ended up sleeping outside. “I personally think that you should take her to the gathering.” Torch did not mean it as a suggestion.

“Torch, I said she could go to a quarry, so she’s going to a quarry.”

The Cave fell silent as the two dragons simply stared at each other, each trying to break the other. After about five minutes, Blaze let out a sigh.

“Fine, I’ll take her to the gathering.” She turned away from her mate, avoiding the growing smirk on his face. “I guess it’s not all bad. She’ll get to spend time with Garbuncle at least.”

“Excuse me?” Torch asked, his smile fading into oblivion. “Who’s Garbuncle?”

“Oh, he’s Amber’s oldest son. I told you about him, didn’t I? He’s a very caring big brother and surprisingly strong for his age. I think they’d get along swimmingly, don’t you? And knowing what I picked out for her, I think she might have an admirer in the future.” Blaze could only imagine the terror that flashed through her mate’s eyes. It just proved her philosophy; brains could beat brawn any day of the week when applied properly. She allowed herself a small smile to celebrate her inevitable victory.

“Fine, she can go,” Torch grumbled.

There came a loud cheer as Ember scampered from the back of the cave and hugged her father’s snout. For the first time in years, she was smiling.

“Thank you, Daddy!” she said, before sprinting out of the cave and heading north. It took a moment for her mother to grab her before she could go too far.

“Ember, the nearest quarry is west of the cave, not north.” It was a short walk, but soon they came to a large quarry, with several adults strewn about the surrounding areas. There was even a nearby play-pit for the younger dragons.

“Where’s that yellow dragon you usually talk to?” Ember asked, looking around at all the adults.

“She’s likely with her daughter, where she is dressed up in trinkets like you could have been.” Her eyes glanced towards the quarry, and she saw Garble, who was already searching for a snack. Towards the playpen she saw little Heathspike, playing with Smog Ironscale while unmarried spectators looked on. It would seem that both whelps had been rather fussy about the gathering today. Not only that, but one was being used. She’d have to let Amber know what the oaf was doing.

“I’m glad I don’t have to go, I wanna dig and figh-” Ember stopped herself from finishing the sentence the moment her mother lifted a brow. “-Forage.”

Blaze rolled her eyes., “Just remember, fight only when you need to. A smart dragon knows when they need to stand their ground and when to let morons mouth off.” She received a quick nod from Ember and watched as her daughter sprinted down into the pit. “Please, Bahamut, give that girl a piece of your wisdom,” she prayed.

Ember was a machine the moment she found a free spot in the quarry, never stopping nor tiring. An hour had passed and she had managed to find three gems using a few tricks her mother taught her. She found small crystals on the surface of a few rocks, but looked for the ones that had something of a white glaze. There had been a few drakes that had come near her, but they all turned tail the moment that she growled at them.

She was the daughter of Torch after all, so it was only natural that they would run the moment she threatened them. Not to mention she was smarter than everyone too, another reason they didn’t want to mess with her. Though, she could still feel a few lingering eyes the more she dug, but who wouldn’t be looking at her when she was finding gems so easily?

The more she dug, the more excited she got. There were signs of a good gem somewhere in her spot, the rocks were heavier and there were flakes of blue in some of the larger stones, it was just a matter of time. Like her mother often told her, finding the best gems required patience. Soon, Ember’s patience was rewarded, and the little princess unearthed an Aqua Sapphire, a gem that was as rare as a Fire Ruby. The gem was cool to the touch, perfect for a hotter day like today, and the luster shimmered like a pool of water.

Her mouth began to water as she hefted up the gem. Perhaps now was a good time to call it quits. She would show it to her father and tell him all about how she scared away every single drake that tried to mess with her. After that, she’d be allowed to go to any quarry anytime she wanted, mostly because he’d be so impressed with how amazing she was. Ember smiled at her fantasy. Being praised by her father instead of being called too small, too weak, or too fragile, brought a smile to her face. After today he’d see how threatening, and strong she truly was.

She turned and saw a drake close by, his gaze fixed on her. Ember’s eyes narrowed. “Something you want to say?” She asked, huffing and spewing a small burst of fire.

The dragon, Fizzle, examined the girl for a short time. She was new to him, then again this was a new quarry. The only reason that he and his friends were here was because Garble had won their previous game of King of the Hoard, and they all wanted a chance to dethrone him. They were just waiting until they had enough gems to play.

While they waited, Fizzle and a few other drakes had seen Ember find gem after gem, but seeing an Aqua Sapphire? Fizzle almost wanted to fight her for it. Almost. She seemed wild, and itching for a fight, something that was never a good combination for a challenger. While he wanted the gem, he didn’t need it. He’d found a decent sized aquamarine and an agate not too long ago, so was this gem worth a fight? The answer was clearly no, especially when he had no idea who the dragon he was fighting was. However, he was unable to move his body.

“It’s nothing,” Fizzle mumbled. His eyes betrayed him, glancing at the sapphire that she held. He focused on it for one moment too many.

Ember began to growl. “What, you want my sapphire?!”

He tried to take his eyes off it, but it was futile. He did want that sapphire, but he didn’t want to fight for it. “Maybe,” he found himself saying. He was feeling a bit greedy, and could feel his avarice slowly gripping the corners of his mind. He tried to force himself to not want the gem, but it didn’t work.

Ember’s face hardened into a scowl. “Just try and take it!” She said with a sneer. “I’ll take on you, and anyone else in this pit willing to try and take it!”

The challenge echoed through the quarry, and several heads turned. Her declaration even attracted Blaze’s attention. She saw her daughter, standing tall and proud, holding aloft her sapphire. Ember didn’t just fly through a slingtail canyon, she insulted their mothers, their fathers, and their children, challenged them to hit her with the biggest bolder they could find, and to top it all off, drew a bright, red target on her back. Some lessons had to be learned, but Blaze desperately wished it wasn’t her daughter that had to learn those lessons the hard way. She could only watch as several drakes began to approach Ember.

Aside from greed, there was no greater sin that dragons fell prey to than pride, and Ember Brightcrest was one of the proudest whelps in all the lands. Even as three more drakes approached her, their eyes unmistakably green, she held her ground and boasted.

“Come on,” she shouted, “I can take you all on!”

‘No, you can’t,’ Her mother thought to herself, her whole-body tensing. ‘You most certainly can’t.’ Ember was in over her head if she thought she could take on four whelps at once. They seemed to except her challenge without hesitation, and all she could do now was watch.

Taking a deep breath as one of the drakes approached her, Ember quickly blocked an oncoming strike with her forearm. She gritted her teeth, and ignored the slight pain that shot through her body, and retaliated with a punch to the whelp’s snout. It was one of the first few things her mother had taught her; when attacking, aim for the snout, nothing hurts more than getting hit in the snout. Ember spun, using her tail to swipe the fat dragon’s feet, and knocking him down.

‘One down, three to go,’ Ember thought to herself. Ember dodged an oncoming strike from Fume and began to move backwards towards a wall. She evaded an oncoming punch, allowing it to crash into the wall. There came a yelp of pain, and Ember quickly scooped up a clump of dirt into her claw before flinging it into Fume’s eyes.

The drake let out a cry as he desperately tried to clean his now stinging eyes. He could hardly open them without feeling a sharp pain and forcing them shut. Fume could hear yelling and cries for him to move. He forced his eyes open for a second, only to see Ember charging towards him. She tackled him to the ground before hopping off him and focusing on her remaining opponents.

‘Two down,’ She thought to herself, smiling inwardly. If only her dad could see her, he’d be amazed, or livid, or both, likely both. She’d show him just what his fragile little princess could do.

The third dragon, Spear, began to dash towards her. Ember simply moved out of the way and allowed him to run face first into the quarry’s wall. He slid to the ground, groaning and Ember delivered a kick to his stomach. Ember could feel her claws begin to shake as she turned her attention towards Fizzle. She had managed to take down three already, the gangly looking white dragon would be easy to take down. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her father’s face the moment he heard about how she took down four whelps at the same time.

The fourth whelp charged at her like the others had. She easily dodged Fizzle’s assault. She was swifter than them, smarter than them, she was probably stronger than them to! She ducked, avoiding a punch, and delivered an uppercut to the dragon’s snout, before the bulkier dragon from earlier seemed to come out of nowhere and rammed his head into her gut.

Blaze winced as her daughter slid across the ground and instinctively curled into a ball. She sighed as she watched the remainder of Ember’s opponents pick themselves off the ground, ready to continue fighting. Worse, they looked livid, except for Fume who was still trying to clear his eyes of dirt.

Blaze could admit that Ember was agile, and more intelligent than most dragons her age, but she lacked strength and bulk, which her opponents had in droves. It didn’t matter that they were thrown to the ground once, because they could get back up and try again, but her daughter? She doubted that she could get up after three good hits, and all any of the drakes needed to turn the tide of the battle was one.

“Finally!” Clump cried, “why was that so hard?!” There were countless murmurs as the drakes approached Ember and Clump. “I took her down.” He glared at his friends. “You guys just keep back and let a real dragon handle this.” The other drakes did as they were told, disappointed that they hadn’t managed to land the hit on Ember.

Her body hurt, but she could still fight. Ember rolled over on her stomach and began to push herself up, but before she could stand Clump followed up with a kick to her gut, similar to what she’d done to Spear.

Clump laid off for a moment, curious to see if she’d had enough. To his shock, Ember slowly stood back up, shaking in either fear, wrath, or a mixture of both, and struck Clump across the face. It hardly did a thing. Clump extended his fist, hitting Ember in the snout. The cry of pain made the nearby dragons almost feel bad for the poor girl. Almost.

Ember managed to get in two more hits before Clump delivered a punch to the side of her face, sending her to the ground. Thinking he’d won, Clump turned and went to get the sapphire, while Ember pounded her fist on the ground. She could already hear her father’s lecture when she returned home. He’d berate her with how he knew she’d get hurt and lose. After that, he’d never let her go out again, and he’d never, ever stop calling her weak.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks at that thought. Ember wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let that happen. Her fists clenched and she steeled herself, standing up once again. “Hey!” She called after the whelp. “We’re. Not. Finished!” A snarl mixed with a cry of anguish rang out as Ember became a flailing mass of punches and kicks. Soon, the noise reached the ears of a certain drake.

Garble let out a sigh when the grunts and cries became too irritating to ignore. What did that loudmouth have that was causing all this noise? It took but a moment for him to see the Aqua Sapphire. Instantly, his eyes lit up before turning green. He wanted it, and he did hear the girl scream that she’d take on anyone that wanted it. Garble watched as the girl went down again, before she struggled to push herself off the floor.

“You’re. Not. Getting it!” The girl sneered, breathing heavily.

Garble watched as Clump kicked her once more. If he’d been fighting Clump, things would be going differently. Then again, Garble knew he could beat Clump easily. Clump’s bulk made him slow, and he tired easily when he was in an actual fight. Once Clump won, Garble would challenge him and the gem was as good as his. Clump never turned down a challenge. Then, if the new girl gave him any trouble, a challenge was a challenge.

Garble licked his lips, grinning widely as he quietly approached. However, as he neared, the girl let out a pathetic, whimpering cry as Clump struck her for a final time. Garble’s near villainous smile faded instantly as he stopped dead in his tracks. The world around him seemed to vanish, as did his desire for the gem. He heard that unmistakable cry only once before, weeks ago in his usual quarry. No matter what was playing out before him, all Garble could see was his weeping little brother and sister being harassed by a bigger dragon for a gem that Spike had found fair and square. A gem that was rightfully Spike’s. A familiar rage began to build deep in Garble’s core, until he was brought back to reality.

“Garble, come on, answer me! Garble!” Fume cried, shaking Garble out of his trance.

“Fume?” Garble looked to his friend, who had finally gotten the dirt out of his eyes, and then back to the struggling whelp who still refused to stay down.

“Are you gonna try and get the sapphire?” Fume didn’t wait for a response, and simply glared daggers at Ember. “Wait until Clump’s through with her. What kind of dragon throws dirt during a fight?”

Garble watched the scuffle again for a few moments, and his fists began to clench. “I don’t want it,” he said with a huff.

“Why?” Fume asked, scoffing at the idea of him not joining the fight. If there was one thing Fume knew, it was that Garble loved to fight. Fume had the bruises to prove it.

“I’m just not a coward like you guys,” Garble said.

Fume was taken aback. “How are we cowards? You’re the one that doesn’t want to fight!”

“You guys are fighting a girl, a smaller, weaker girl,” Garble said. “First Spike, now her? Are you going to go to a nursery next? And it wasn’t even that fair, you needed to group up on her. What, none of you could fight her by yourselves?”

“She said she could take us all on!” Fume argued.

“She kinda had a point. She took you down.”

“She threw dirt in my eyes!”

“I would have just dodged,” Garble said.

“Stay down!” Clump shouted, as Ember got up for what would likely be the final time. She was badly bruised, and visibly crying, but still took a fighting stance. “Come on, my fists are starting to hurt!”

“Forget her, Clump, Garble just said we’re cowards for fighting her!” Fume cried. Hearing this, Clump instantly abandoned Ember without a second thought. Meanwhile, all Blaze could do was lean in, and watch. This certainly took an unexpected turn. Perhaps, despite his fangs, sharp features and attitude, Garble was turning out to be more Amber’s son than Flare’s.

Before he knew it, Garble was surrounded by his friends. He began to wonder why he had called them cowards, or why he was defending someone that was not his little brother.

“Cowards?!” Clump said.

“You’re the coward, you don’t want to fight!” Fizzle shouted.

“You’re just scared that if you get it, I’ll take it from you!” Spear said.

“Probably doesn’t want dirt in his eyes,” Fume mumbled.

“That’s not it, I already know I could beat her up, just look at her!” Garble boasted, gesturing towards Ember who had fallen to the ground the moment Clump left her alone. As of now, she could only sit and watch the scene unfold. “If I wanted a gem from a dragon, I’d take it from someone at least my size if not bigger, anytime, anywhere, for any gem!”

“Even if they’re bigger than you?” Fizzle asked.

"Even for a Garnet?" Spear added.

“Yeah! Point me to the dragon that has it!” Garble proclaimed.

“Hey, Arrow!” Fume said.

All bravado was immediately sapped from Garble as Arrow Firefang stood.

Chapter 9: Slash

It was late in the day by the time Spike returned home. Garble, still sore, ate an early dinner before falling into a deep, well-earned sleep. Not Spike though. No, he needed to proclaim his brother’s greatness, like a priest proclaiming the greatness of his god.

“You should have seen him!” Spike cried, looking up at his parents. “He was like, ‘HA!’, and Arrow was punched and then he was like ‘RAH!’ Arrow couldn’t even get up after Garble was finished with him!” Spike began throwing several punches at the air, in an attempt to imitate his brother, before quickly becoming winded and falling on his stomach. “He was so cool!” He gave Smolder a smirk. “I bet you didn’t get to fight. You probably stood around being cute.”

Smolder huffed at the accusation, offended that Spike thought at all that she did it just to be cute. She went to the gathering because she drew more attention than other whelps her age. Did she look cute? Of course, but that was just an unfortunate side effect of looking better than her friends. Her eyes narrowed. “I can fight now!”

Hearing the challenge, Spike immediately pounced on his sister. They rolled around on the floor, until Spike was pinned on his chest, with Smolder holding his head still with one claw while her knee was planted firmly on the middle of his back.

“Wait, Smolder, don’t! It’s annoying!” Spike begged. Smolder, with a most evil and psychotic grin, began to press her finger against Spike’s tiny, button nose, eliciting a loud, adorable no.

While his niece and nephew played, Smog explained Garble’s fight in proper detail, starting from his confrontation with Arrow, but leaving out the part where he was beaten by Ember. When his story was finished, Flare once again beamed with pride.

“As if there was any doubt that he’d win. I’m glad that he put Firefang’s brat in his place!” Flare used the tip of his claw to gently pat Garble’s back. “Just you wait Smog. One day, the whelps of this land will be following Dragon Lord Garbuncle Ironscale!”

Garble’s body shifted upon hearing the title, and a small smile slowly formed. In his dreams, he could already see himself sitting atop a gilded throne, holding the Bloodstone Scepter with a jeweled, platinum crown adorning his head. At his right hand was Spike, adorned in armor serving as his ever-loyal enforcer, and at his left Smolder. He didn’t know why, nor did he know what her purpose was, but she was in a dress, happy. If she was happy though, then that was all he needed. Though he didn’t know it, he would soon have a chance to make his dream a reality in just ten years.

Soon, Amber effortlessly pried Spike and Smolder apart, rescuing Spike from his sister’s boops. Their fight was becoming rather loud, and she'd prefer it if Garble could get his rest. “That’s enough. Get something to eat, both of you, then bed.” She received disappointed murmurs from her children but was obeyed none the less. She went to thank Smog only to find him with the biggest, self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“So, did I do good today?” He asked.

She snorted, sending two thick clouds of smoke crashing into him. “You did adequately, at best.”

Smog inched his head closer. “Think I could take him out again tomorrow?”

He must have turned a few heads today. It could be the only reason that he was asking to look after Spike again. What irked her was her inability to think of an actual excuse. While his reason for doing it was unpalatable, she couldn't deny that Smog did knew how to care for whelps, and who loved playing with them, never growing irritated or apathetical. For dragonesses, finding a dragon who was kind and loving towards whelps, and strong, was akin to finding a trove of fire rubies. “Smog-”

“Can he?!” Spike asked, sprinting towards his uncle and mother. Amber turned to see her son bouncing in place, biting his lower lip as he smiled, and giving her the biggest, brightest eyes in the world. “It was really fun!”

Bahamut have mercy on her, why did he bless her son with those eyes? They were the types of eyes she had trouble saying no to when the request was reasonable. Extra dessert? Not on his young life. Going out to play with his uncle? She struggled just considering saying no. He was so happy, too happy to say no to. “Fine, but only if you take Smolder along, if she’s willing to go.” Amber could trust her daughter to keep an eye on Spike, if not completely derail Smog's plans to use them, just in case his got distracted. The likely chance that she would embarrass Smog in front of his prospective mates was icing on the cake.

“Of course she can come. The more the merrier!”

Spike let out an excited squee before hurrying to his spot, snuggling close to his sister, eager for tomorrow to come. He closed his eyes, only to open them not a moment later. “You heard that, right? Can you come?” He whispered.

She let out a yawn. “Yeah, I can.” She couldn't say no, not that she wanted to. After a day like today, Garble usually rested, so it would just be her and Spike. She even had a game they could play, Claw Tag. Garble came up with it when she was about Spike’s age, in an effort to help her dodge and attack swiftly. With Garble’s brawl filling him with energy, Claw Tag was perfect to help Spike vent it, and with Smog watching them, there was a way to play without being caught. “I actually have a fun game we can play!”

Spike let out a small squeak of excitement. He quickly forced his eyes shut and began to dream about all the fun he and his sister would have, knowing that tomorrow was going to be the best day ever.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The next day, Smog brought Spike and Smolder to the play area early in the morning. The older dragon couldn’t help but chuckled to himself as Smolder and Spike chewed on his tail. Amber had to be trying to help him find a mate; there was no other reason to send such a well-behaved Smolder along with him. Looking after Spike for an afternoon turned a few heads, but looking after both Spike and Smolder? Single dragons would be lining up to just talk with him. If only Garble was with them. Alas, he was helping his mother tend to her garden while he recovered from yesterday's fight. Amber had been taking care of a plot of land for half a century now, harvesting the plants she grew for Topaz to use for various remedies.

The game he was playing was simple, Smog would lazily draw the tip of his tail across the ground, expecting them to just chase it down together. To his surprise, they didn’t. They instead worked as a coordinated team. Smolder would take point, chasing the tail, but at the same time, leading it towards Spike who tried to ambush it. When it was caught by one, he allowed the other to jump in as well.

Afterwards they would climb up his body and attack, slashing at his hide and nipping him, and hanging on tight once he tried to shake them off. Not that he was trying to hurt them. If they ever did fall, they conveniently landed on his tail or claw. Once they reached his neck, neither whelp showed mercy. With powerful bites delivered to his throat, they slew him, only for the game to begin again, with Smog increasing the difficulty.

Spike was the one to climb up and reach the back of his uncle's neck this round, while Smolder ran interference, biting down and pulling on Smog's tail tip to garner his attention. When he was in position, Spike let out a mighty, adorable roar before sinking his fangs into his uncle's flesh.

The moment he felt his nephew lightly bite down on his hide, Smog let out an overly dramatic cry, before he fell on his side, his body hitting the stone floor with a crash. He stayed still for a few moments, waiting for Spike and Smolder to climb off him before carefully turning himself onto his stomach. “Good job, both of you!” He said. There was a sudden applause originating from a nearby cliffside, making Spike and Smolder’s cheeks flush red. Smog could see the annoyance on Smolder’s face, while his nephew seemed to enjoy the attention, most likely because the cheers came from a group of attractive dragonesses. “Want to go again?”

Smolder began to think for a moment, before leaning over and whispering something to Spike. Smog didn’t know why, but Spike’s expression lit up. He could only watch as his nephew stumbled over towards him.

“Uncle Smog, can Smolder and I play by ourselves for a little bit? She says she wants to train.”

The excited smile he had on his face was too pure for the world. How could he say no? Smog smiled back and nodded. “You may but be careful. I don’t want anything happening to the two of you.” They nodded and ran off, their giggles and snickers filling the air, infecting any whelp that heard.

‘So that’s why Amber wanted me to bring Smolder,’ Smog thought to himself. He should have known. Smolder usually hated being used in any capacity for any reason. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Alone, Smog looked towards the western cliffside, towards the dragonesses that had applauded his niece and nephew. They were whispering to each other. One took notice of his staring, breaking into giggles as she said something to her friends before waving at him.

He waved back, earning himself a few giggles, blushes, and another round of whispers, but they never took their eyes off him. He glanced towards his niece and nephew. Spike was darting around Smolder, likely excited for whatever activity she had planned. Now was the perfect chance to mingle for a few minutes. Slicking back his spines, he made his way towards them.

“So what are we going to do?”

“It’s a game Garble came up with: Claw Tag,” Smolder said.

“You mean, like, fight each other using our claws?”

“Yeah! First to get hit loses, and it’s best two of three.”

Instantly, Spike stopped dead in his tracks. “Smolder, we’re not allowed to use our claws, remember what Mama said?”

“Yeah, but we’re Ironscales, it won’t matter.” She understood his reluctance. She was the same way when Garble suggested it to her, but they were Ironscales. Their scales couldn't be pierced unless they had the claws of a Steelspine. She managed to hit Garble twice and nothing happened to him. She knew Spike wanted to play, he just needed a small push. A devious smile spread across Smolder’s face. “And Mama said we’re not allowed to use them in the cave. We’re not in the cave.” She looked back towards Smog, making sure that he was preoccupied. Turning back, she saw an equally devious grin appear on Spike’s lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She was ecstatic to see Spike nod.

It felt right being the one to play the game with Spike. Garble had six years on him. It wasn't fair in the slightest, but Smolder? She was bigger than Spike, but not that big. She was a fairer match for him by a mile. She’d still hold back just a little bit. Afterall, she was swifter and more agile than Spike, winning without giving him a chance to fight would just be mean.

The game began with Smolder and Spike facing each other about four yards apart. Next, Smolder began to hit her tail against the ground. Once the count reached twenty, they would begin. In the meantime, both whelps began to strategize, or rather they fantasized about how’d they would win spectacularly, and be praised by everyone they ever knew for doing so.

The final slam seemed to echo across the field, and the two began to sprint towards each other. However, Spike came to a sliding stop, dug his claws deep into the ground, and threw a mass of dirt into the air.

Smolder quickly clenched her eyes shut and pivoted, turning her back to the cloud. It’d take only a few moments for the cloud to dissipate, then she’d- Smolder let out a gasp as she felt a claw slide down her back. She turned to see her brother beaming, cheeks puffy, with the sweetest pair of eyes he had. Did he just win? He’d just won.

“Bu-I-huh? Where’d you learn that?!” Smolder cried.

“It’s how Garble won his fight yesterday!”

“But that doesn’t count!” Smolder cried out. “Claw tag is supposed to be about agility and stuff, not throwing dirt! You need to treat it like a real fight!”

“But Garble threw dirt in a real fight.”

Spike was too clever for his own good. “No dirt throwing.” She said firmly.

Spike grumbled to himself, but obeyed. She probably just didn’t want to admit he won that round without really trying.

They took their places across each other again and the count began. On the twentieth strike, they rushed towards one another, only for Spike’s foot to hit a stone and fall face first into the ground. She could hear soft whimpers as he pushed himself off the floor, and her sisterly instincts kicked in. She ran to him, helped him to his knees, made sure that he was unharmed, and as thanks, Spike slashed her across her chest. It was a tiny swipe, but one that was unmistakable. She could only give her little brother a confused, betrayed look.

Spike sniffled as tears welled in his eyes, but quickly steeled himself. “You-you said we n-needed to treat it like a re-real fight!” Spike said, lips trembling. “Why would you help me if this is a real fight?” There was a pause. “Can I have a nuzzle?”

Smolder couldn’t think of an excuse, for either question. A quick nuzzle helped calm him down and he was back on his feet. She wasn’t even mad really. He treated it like a real fight and she didn’t. They retook their places across from each other, and the count began a third time. Smolder cleared her mind. Spike was not her brother; he was her opponent. If he got hurt, she could tend to him after tagging him.

When the match began, Smolder immediately put Spike on the defensive. He managed to avoid her first swing, ducking down and hurriedly moving backwards. The second swipe just missed his nose, but Spike stumbled, and Smolder pushed herself forward, thrusting her claws forward. Spike moved his head, and she scarcely missed hitting the side of his neck, bringing her within arm’s length of him. Seeing an opening, Spike quickly struck, slashing his sister across her stomach.

“Tag!” Spike said, before his sister had time to think. He fell sitting and began to giggle to himself, before letting out a squee of joy, falling on his back and rolling around. When he finally regained control of himself he sat up. “So did I do good?” He leaned forward, as if expecting her to praise him.

“Y-yeah, you did great,” Smolder said, her voice cracking. She took two steps back and fell to her knees while Spike broke into a dance and cheered. She was a six-year-old dragon that just lost to a three-year-old. Half of her was proud of her brother, the other half needed to win a round. It had to be a case of beginner’s luck, either that or she was just too small. That was it. She was Spike’s equal, not his better, not yet anyway. Once she had a growth spurt like most whelps her age, she’d be stronger than him. Until then, she needed to stop underestimating him. “I want a third match!” Smolder said, standing tall. “I was just warming up!”

Spike became confused. “But I thought it’s over, I won. Best two of three.”

That was true, he did win. It’s not like a third match would change that. It would let her salvage her pride though. She just needed to offer something. “Exactly, it’s not like it’s gonna change anything.” She could see Spike thinking about it, she just needed to give him an extra push. “If you win, you’ll get my dessert for the next week.” Seeing her little brother’s eyes turn to saucers, she knew she’d get her rematch.

“The next week?” Spike could feel his mouth watering. Smolder always managed to get a good-sized gem for dessert. He’d already beaten her twice, what was the harm in fighting a third time? If he lost one match, he’d still have won the game, and if he won, he got extra dessert for a week. “Deal!”

She smiled as Spike hurried towards his starting point. Smolder took a deep breath as she readied herself. She was too small to hold back. She was quicker than Spike, she might as well use it to her advantage. The count went off a final time, and Smolder sprinted towards Spike as fast as she could.

Spike barely had time to react to his sister’s first slash. He managed to dodge at the last moment, ducking. The second slash was faster. Once again, Spike narrowly avoided the attack, however, he stumbled back and fell onto his rump. Smolder leapt forward and slashed at her brother a third time. He couldn’t dodge, but he wouldn’t just sit still. With his instincts taking over, Spike lifted his arms to protect himself, allowing Smolder’s claws to rake across them. The moment they did, her face fell, and her eyes widened in horror.

Spike didn’t feel any pain, but the look on Smolder’s face and the burning in his arms told him something was wrong. His ears began ringing as Smolder ran and began calling for their uncle. With heavy breaths and a quaking body, he slowly turned his arms towards his face. He took one look and began to wail.

Smog appeared by his side not a moment later, Smolder sitting atop his back. His mouth was dry, his heart seized, and his mind raced as he focused on his bleeding, wailing nephew. One thing was clear, he needed to get Spike help, now. Smog scooped him up, and before anyone knew it, they were all before a screaming Topaz.

“What in Bahamut’s name happened!?” The old dragon sneered, as she examined the gashes in Spike’s arms.

“He got scratched, I don’t know how. Just fix him, he’s bleeding!”

“Fix him, as if he’s a piece of damaged armor. Put him there,” She said, pointing to a large flat slab of rock. Smog did as he was told. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Topaz whistled, and there came a young, scampering dragon, a girl about sixteen. Her name was Gemstone Steelspine, Topaz’s current apprentice. Seeing Spike, she quickly tried to calm him down and comfort him while Topaz gathered supplies.

Meanwhile, Smog turned his attention towards Smolder. “Smolderessence, how did this happen?”

She didn’t know why, but her uncle using her full name frightened her more than when her mother used it. “I don’t know! We were playing Claw Tag-”

“Claw Tag, why would you think it okay to use your claws?”

“It’s more real that way!”

“It’s never okay to use your claws!” Smog shouted. “Smolder, that is the one rule that you do not break, ever!”

“It wasn’t supposed to matter, we’re Ironscales!” Smolder said.

Topaz’s ears perked. “What are you talking about, Spike isn’t-” Topaz had a horrifying realization. Her grandchildren honestly thought that Spike was an Ironscale. Topaz expression softened as she looked down at Spike, before hardening to stone. “Smolderessence, we will talk about this disobedience later. For now, I need help. Smog bring her over, put her near Spike. Gemstone, move aside for a moment. Good. Smolder, hold Spike tight, and don’t let go.”

Smolder did as she was told, wrapping her weeping brother in a tight hug, only for him to do the same to her, much to Topaz’s relief. She handed her apprentice a needle and thread. “Gemstone, careful now, just like we’ve practiced.” Gemstone knelt before the siblings, preparing to mend the wound. “Spike, Gemstone is going to start suturing the scratches on three. Ready? One.”

Gemstone released a held breath and quickly pierced Spike’s arms. The little drake let out a loud wail, the grip on his sister becoming tighter. Smolder started sniffling as she attempted to calm Spike. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” she whimpered. She had no actual idea if he was going to be okay. Her back felt wet, her brother was weeping and somehow, she’d cut through his hide. All she could do now was hold him.

An hour passed and soon Spike’s wounds were closed. Gemstone wiped the sweat from her brow, before giving Spike’s shoulder an assuring squeeze. “Just one last thing now. Hold still.” She took his arms and applied a stinging solution to them before wrapping them in clean bandages. Spike winced and whimpered, but the pain soon passed. “All finished,” she said with a sigh. “You were very brave, little one.”

“Thank you, Gemstone. You did well,” Topaz said.

She bowed her head before scuttling back into the deeper reaches of the cave.

Topaz lifted her grandchildren, whispering to them gently while Smog let out a low sigh of relief. “There, there, it’s over. You’re okay. No more tears.” Her gaze turned towards Smog. “You and I are going to see Amber and Flare, now.”

“I know.” He said solemnly, trying to imagine a scenario where Amber didn’t try to kill him. None came to mind. Though he forced himself to smile, his eyes begged for help. “Maybe with you there, she won’t be too mad.”

The moment Amber saw Spike’s arms in bandages, the shouting began. Smog was quick to explain what had happened, how he’d taken his eyes of Spike and Smolder, and how they decided to attack each other using their claws. The explanation served only to intensify Amber’s reaction. Worse, Topaz’s presence did nothing to temper Amber’s rage. The only dragon keeping her from clawing his eyes out was Flare, and he was struggling to hold her back.

“Amber, please, calm down!” He cried, his muscles tensing as he fought to keep his mate still. He feeling his hold on her weakening, Flare used his tail to swipe at her hind legs, tripping her and allowing him to pin her on her stomach. His claw firmly held the back of her head, trapping it in an Iron grip, while his other arm put pressure on her back. Doing so left sick feeling in his stomach, but it couldn’t be helped. If Amber attacked Smog, and Smog defended himself, there was no doubt in his mind that she’d get hurt, and if Smog hurt his mate, then he’d have to hurt Smog tenfold.

“I will geld you, you sorry excuse for a dragon!” Amber shrieked as she thrashed in Flare’s grip. “Endangering my son because you feel frisky; you will be lucky to look at any of my children again!” Amber’s shouts were accompanied by blazing streams of fire, hot enough to melt steal.

Flare couldn’t blame her for her emotional state. He himself nearly lost his composure upon seeing Spike bandaged. However, once Smog explained what had happened, he saw that he wasn’t entirely to blame. He’d been distracted, but Spike and Smolder were both disobedient. The fact that Spike thought he had an impenetrable hide didn’t help either.

“Smog, it’s best that you leave for now,” Flare said, pulling his mate towards the back of the cave. Smog nodded and quickly left, after apologizing again for what happened.

“Never come back!” Amber shouted before finally becoming still in her mate’s grasp. “Let Tiamat have him for all I care, horny bastard!”

While she wanted to try and calm her granddaughter down, Topaz knew that the best medicine for Amber’s emotional state was time. “I must leave as well,” Topaz said. “Flare, Spike is not to roughhouse for two weeks. Keep him close by and make sure he doesn’t scratch at his bandages.” She dropped a roll of bandages into his hand. “You may need to change his bandages. Have Garble use these when needed. If anything happens, come to my cave.”

“Understood,” Flare said, finally releasing Amber, who remained on the floor huffing.

“One more thing, very important.” Topaz grabbed Flare by his arm and pulled him close. “I know it’s difficult to talk about when they’re young, but he needs to know the truth. Tell him tonight considering his sister was able to slice his arms open.” Flare nodded and Topaz took her leave.

The cave fell silent, save for Spike and Smolder’s whimpers. Amber took one look, and saw Garble holding them close to him while they buried their faces in his scales. Between the screaming, Spike’s injuries, and seeing their father physically restraining her, the poor things were likely scared out of their minds. She took a deep breath and talked as calmly as she could. “Spike, Smolder, you two can look now, it’s over.” They slowly turned their faces towards her, revealing their bloodshot eyes, tearstained cheeks, and their tired faces. “I think you two are due for a nap,” she said, picking them up and depositing them near the back of the cave. A nap would do them good after the day they had. “When you wake up, your father and I need to have a talk with you.”

“Are we in trouble?” Smolder asked.

“Yes. What you two did was not only foolish, but dangerous. Smolder, what if you hit him somewhere else? As bad as his wounds are, they could have been worse. And Spike, you actively went along with it. You should have said no, and if she pestered you, told your uncle.”

“We didn’t think we’d get hurt,” Spike explained. “Ironscales are supposed to have super strong hides.”

“They do, but-” Amber paused. What was she supposed to say? ‘Not you, because you’re not a real Ironscale, surprise!’ “-We’ll talk about that later Spike. For now, get some rest.”

Seeing that his mother wouldn’t budge, Spike obeyed. He laid down, and Smolder curled up around him. As she settled down, she saw just the smallest red stain on his bandages. Her lip began to quiver and she wrapped her brother in a hug, pulling his back towards her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, gently sobbing. She repeated her apology until both fell asleep. Their rest didn’t last long, however. Soon, Spike’s woke up, feeling an itch in his bandages. He began to shift against Smolder, before lightly patting her cheek, waking her.

“Spike, what’s wrong?”

“My arms itch,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Smolder let out a yawn, and released Spike from her embrace. He reached down to scratch at his bandages, only to be stopped by his father’s voice.

“Don’t touch those. It might upset the wound.”

Spike obeyed, seeing the stern look on his father’s face. The whelps couldn’t help but gulp as their mother came to his side, wearing an equally stern look.

“Come here, both of you,” Flare said. They obeyed, albeit reluctantly. They sat before their parents and waited for their scolding and punishment. “I want you both to take a good look at those bandages. This is why we say no claws. Your claws are natural weapons, if you’re not careful someone could get hurt, like today. Spike, there’ll be scars, and I can’t imagine that you’ll forget what it felt like for your grandmother to mend your arms. Let them remind you why you need to be careful.” He smiled, upon seeing the disheartened look on Spike’s face. He gently nudged Spike’s cheek. “It’s not all bad though, dragonesses go crazy for scars.” Flare silenced himself upon receiving a glare from his mate.

“Both of you are grounded for two weeks,” Amber said. “Spike, no roughhousing, and Smolder, no gatherings, understood?” The whelps nodded sadly. “Good. We’re not trying to be cruel; we’re doing this because we love you both.”

“I know. Mama, why did I get hurt?” Spike asked.

“What do you mean, Spike? You got hurt because you disobeyed an important rule.”

“I know, but Papa and Uncle Smog say they get scratched all the time; they never get hurt. Garble got scratched, and he was fine. Same with Smolder, I managed to scratch her three times! Why did I get hurt? Ironscales aren’t supposed to get hurt.”

Her son’s name was Ironscale, and he was her son, but he was not a true Ironscale, not in the way he thought. “Did you two know that mamas have to lay their children’s eggs?” As she expected, the revelation puzzled them. They were still under the impression that eggs were given to parents by Bahamut himself.

“But you said-”

“We know what we told you. That’s just a story we tell younger whelps,” Flare said.

“Yes. The truth is that the eggs come from inside mothers. When a mother lays an egg, it’s one the most wonderful and frightening things that she can ever do. That little, tiny egg is so fragile, and carrying something so precious.” She recalled the day she laid Garble and Smolder’s egg, how worried she was carrying them to the hatchery, how happy she was the day they hatched and she brought them home. They were almost as small as Spike the day she found him. Amber wiped the growing tears from her eyes, still smiling. Looking down at her son, her smile faded. “However, there are times when a hatchling is left alone for one reason or another, and a mother takes them in, despite not hatching them. She and her mate adopt them.”

“Mama, what does that have to do with why I got hurt?”

“It’s because I didn’t lay your egg, Heathspike.”

“You didn’t?”

Amber watched as the confusion in her son’s eyes grew. There must have been countless questions going through his head. “No. I was sent to clean the eggshells from the nursery three years ago, and there I found you. You were alone, and so I brought you home with me.”

“If you didn’t lay his egg, how is he an Ironscale?” Smolder asked.

“It’s because Spike was made a part of our clan,” Flare interjected. “He’s like your mother in that regard. She’s Amber Ironscale, but lacks the clan’s ability.”

“S-so, I don’t have an impenetrable hide?” Spike asked.

“No, Spike, you don’t.” Amber could only watch as Spike became despondent.

“Why was he left alone?” Smolder asked. “You said mamas usually take their hatchlings home as soon as they’re hatched!”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. No one ever came looking, so he became a part of our family.” She looked towards Spike. “Garble certainly loved you the moment that I brought you home, and Smolder fell in love with you the moment she held you. Your father and I did to, though he was a bit nervous to admit it.” She glanced towards Flare, who was lowering his head in shame and embarrassment. Spike, however looked puzzled.

“Why was that?”

“For the first month, he was worried he’d get attached, and then someone would come to take you. If that happened, he didn’t know how he’d cope. Neither of us did.”

“Someone can just take me away?!” Spike nearly shouted. “But I don’t wanna go!”

Smolder, just thinking about Spike being taken away, quickly pulled him into her embrace. She was growling, guarding him like he was a gem from her hoard. “He’s my little brother, no one should be able to just take him!”

“Thankfully they can’t,” Amber said, desperate to ease their worry. “The Dragon Lord had the sense to name you a member of our family a month after I found you. No one can ever take you away, Spike.” The two of them relaxed, though Smolder still held him close.

“Does Garble know?” She asked.

“He does. He found out when Spike became an Ironscale. I had a talk with him to explain what it meant to take Spike in.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I said to him that sometimes families get to make a wonderful choice. When someone’s alone, who needs a family and love, we can choose to be their family and love them. When I brought you home, Spike, that’s what we did, and we’ve loved you every day since.”

Spike pulled himself out of Smolder’s embrace and pattered towards his mother, hugging her snout when he got close. “I’m happy you’re my mama.”

Amber smiled, putting a single claw against his back. “I’m happy I get to be your mother.”

Spike let go of his mother. “Mama, did you mean what you said to Uncle Smog? I don’t want him to stop visiting.”

Amber turned her head as her face twisted into a scowl brought on by a deep annoyance. Of course Spike was worried about seeing his uncle again, because why wouldn’t he be? Her son was too kind for his own good. She forced a neutral expression. “No. I may have been overreacting when I saw you were hurt. I want changes though. If he can keep a constant eye on you, I might consider letting him spend time with you.”

“Ok. Can I ask one more question?”

“You may, as long as it doesn’t relate to your uncle.”

“What’s my special power?”

Amber was confused for but a moment, only to realize that he meant his clan’s ability. Every dragon had one. Some were obvious, others more subtle, and every ability was useful. “I don’t know, Spike, but now may not be the best time to wonder about that. You’ll have plenty of time to find out once you’re better, and only once you’re better.”

Spike became slightly disheartened, but Smolder quickly chimed in. “It’s probably gonna be cooler than what we have,” She said. “Oh, maybe you have superhot fire breath, or you can climb walls like a lizard, or use your tail like a spear!” Smolder continued naming random abilities she’d heard about, each more outlandish and bombastic than the last.

It had a noticeable effect on Spike though. Already he perked up and his mind was racing, creating endless abilities he might have. Some were realistic, like a form of advanced camouflage, while other abilities were fantastic and impossible, like energy shields he could conjure with his mind. “We should try and see what it is now!” He heard his mother clear her throat and turned to see the stern look on her face. “I mean, after I’m better.”

And with that, Spike had a new activity to look forward to. However, what the ability was wasn’t too important, what mattered was it would be the three of them: him, Smolder and Garble discovering it. But that could wait. Like his mother said, he could worry about it after his wounds healed.

Chapter 10: Books and Secrets

Today was a slow day for Topaz, and that meant it was a good day. A slow day for her meant dragons weren’t sick or hurt. Even her young apprentice, seeing how little there was to do had a medical journal opened, reading page after page to remind herself of certain tonics and balms that cured rarer ailments found in their lands. Gemstone was a kind, prudent dragon. Always speaking respectfully, standing up straight, and ready to help any way she could. She was also darling with whelps. Making them laugh when they were sick, easing their fright when they were worried, and firm when they needed to be mended. Topaz was proud to have her as a student, and she was certain that whatever drake took her as a mate would be thankful to have her as their partner. Especially with how good she was with children. Gemstone quickly shut her book when she took notice of Smolder and joined her by her side, happy to be spending time with someone so adorable.

Smolder herself was having a good day, despite her grounding. Her parents were being especially cruel to her and her little brother today. Spike had to go to a gathering with his mother, with Garble accompanying them, while her father sent her to assist her great-grandmother. Flare’s idea had woefully backfired. While she was disappointed to be missing out on a gathering, she was more than happy to be put to work. With a mortar and pestle, Smolder combined several leaves, roots, and water, to make an ointment that most dragons used to disinfect wounds. At least, she was trying to. Smolder was pounding the stone rod into the bowl, forcing Gemstone to come to her aid.

“Smolder, you’re not using it correctly.” Gemstone took Smolder’s hand in hers and began to make circular motions. “Grind them like this.”

Smolder nodded and did as she was shown once Gemstone let go of her hand. Soon, a thick brown paste formed. “I did it!” she declared, showing Gemstone and her grandmother the ointment.

“Very good, Smolder!” Gemstone said.

“Indeed,” Topaz said. “Gemstone, try to teach her how to suture a wound. It might be good for her to know.”

“Does that mean I need to fix a cut? You’re not hurt, are you?” Smolder asked her elders.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Gemstone assured. “Your grandmother as this statue that allows you to practice. I don’t know what it’s made up, but it’s very useful.”

“It’s called a suture manakin,” Topaz said. “It’s important for young healers to know how to close gashes a dragon may suffer when fighting. It helps the wound heal and prevents too much blood lose.”

“Where’d you get that?”

“Scavenging. Gemstone, if you would?”

Gemstone nodded, scuttled to the back of the cave, and brought back a scarred manakin. It was littered with stitches and lacerations, each closed with different colored string. Gemstone, using her razor-sharp claw, slashed open a new wound and presented it to Smolder, along with a curved needle and thread, and a scissor looking tool that Gemstone called a driver.

Smolder looked at the needle, and then at the mannequin. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot as she recalled her brother’s arms. “Are we doing this because I hurt Spike?”

“No, nothing like that, Smolder.” Gemstone got as low as she could to meet Smolder’s gaze at her level. “This is just something that you should know how to do. Besides, if you ever assist here again, it would be a great help if you know how to suture a cut. It’s much safer for a smaller dragon to tend to the wounds of whelps than it would be for a larger dragon, like how I helped Spike when he was hurt, and not your grandmother.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Smart girl. Now come here. First thing you need to do is gently blow fire on the needle to clean it. It’s crude, but effective.” Smolder obeyed, giggling as she did so. Whelps loved using their fire breath, and Smolder was no different. “Next we make our first insertion, through the skin, like so.” Gemstone meticulously showed Smolder her suturing technique for the first stitch, turned the tools over to Smolder, and held her hands to guide her as she made the second stitch. On the third, Smolder made a minor mistake, being that her knot was too tight, and she dropped the needle driver on the fourth, the fifth stitch was too loose, however, the sixth stitch and forward were perfection.

“Very good, Smolder,” Topaz said, looking over her work. “What do you think, Gemstone?”

“It’s good, a bit too forceful when entering and exiting, but most of the knots are perfect.”

Smolder couldn’t help but grin as she was showered with praise. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“I need a few more creams and balms made. Take this book and find the ingredients.” Topaz quickly made three folds in a journal, detailing the ingredients for three balms she was running low on. They were used as disinfectants, rash treatments, and ointments for joint pains. “Do a good job and I might have something for you and your siblings.”

Smolder nodded and quickly went to work upon receiving the journal. The moment it happened, Gemstone’s mouth nearly fell open. When she started out as Topaz’s apprentice, it took her months to be trusted with a book, yet her master had just given one to a six-year-old on her first day. “Master, is it wise to just give her a journal? A fragile, irreplaceable journal? I don’t think she understands what it is she’s holding. I don’t think she even knows how to read!”

“Of course, I do! I’m not like the dragons my brother plays with,” Smolder huffed.

This time Gemstone’s mouth did fall open. It had taken her nearly a year to learn to read, longer to learn to write. The only dragons that bothered to learn were shamans and priests, because they were the only ones that needed to use it. Not even the dragon nobility knew how to read. “You know how to read? But you’re six!”

Topaz chuckled, finding a glimmer of humor in her apprentice’s bewilderment. “Oh, Gemstone, you have no idea how impressive she is. Smolder, how long have you and your siblings been reading?”

“Garble started when he was five, and read to me every night I asked him. I started to learn when I was four! Spike’s already learning and Garble sometimes has Spike read a full sentence from his book! It's hard for him since he's still learning his sounds.”

“You can write?”

“Blame me if you must,” Topaz said. “I wanted to make sure they had some skills at their disposal, aside from fighting prowess.”

“That’s amazing!” Gemstone cried. “Would it be okay if I watch her? I need to see it for myself.” And watch Smolder she did. She was impressed to say the least. Smolder had to read aloud, and stumbled on a few words, but she followed the instructions in the book to a T, and soon began producing the medicine. Six years old, and she was already putting a dragon like her to shame. Just to test her, Gemstone asked Smolder to make copies of the recipes. She watched Smolder pick up a piece of charcoal and write. Her hand writing needed some work, but Smolder didn’t misspell a single word and the letters were all legible. To Gemstone’s chagrin, Smolder even had slightly better handwriting than she did.

“You are a brilliant little girl, you know that?” Gemstone said as Smolder emptied the balms into various jars. For Gemstone, this would be considered tedious work, but for Smolder it was about as fun for her as fighting, no doubt thanks to the promise of a gift from her grandmother. In total, Smolder managed to make nine jars of each balm. More than what Topaz was expecting. A promise was a promise, and so, Smolder was given three books. One for her, one for each of her brothers.

Smolder was instantly taken with her present. Its title read in glittering gold letters ‘The Princess Promenade’. It was a the first in a series of books about princesses of various species attending a high-end Academy while having misadventures, charming young knights and princes with their beauty and personality, and solving the occasional mystery. The cover showed all the main characters sitting around a table for tea in a garden. Smolder couldn’t help but marvel at the colorful gowns they wore. One drawing particularly caught her eye. “There’s a pretty dragon wearing a dress in it,” she whispered. She read the first few pages, before lighting up and letting out a gasp. “She’s snarky!” She cried, stars glistening in her eyes. Giggling to herself, she sat near the mouth of the cave taking her time to absorb every word and admire every illustrations of the princesses, their jewelry, and most of all, their dresses. How she wanted their dresses. Alas, it was but a dream for her, and she was content with that.

“Master, where did those books come from?” Gemstone asked as she scrutinized the book Smolder was reading. They were too well made, perfection in fact. The books they made were functional, but lacked any professionalism in their design. And this book held no facts, just fantasy. There were pictures of various creatures, from dragons, to yaks, to ponies. Seeing the mere illustration of an equine made a shiver crawl up Gemstone’s spine, yet, Smolder seemed to not mind the creature.

“I found it in an old pony building,” Her master said. “Why?”

The answer put Gemstone on edge. From the stories she’d been told, ponies would often lure whelps away from their caves with promises of gems, gold, and other treasures in order to get them alone. Once secluded, the child was either caged and sold off as a slave or a pet, or skinned, be they alive or dead. She could only imagine them doing the same with Smolder with the types of books they made.

Gemstone took a step back, and leaned toward her master, whispering ever so quietly, “Is it wise to give her such gifts? What if a pony saw you? What if she goes looking for one? This could be dangerous.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, I got it from an old, abandoned building.”

It was the first lie she’d ever told her apprentice.

Months Earlier

Topaz waited at the entrance to the town of Squires Gate as working stallions checked and rechecked boxes filled with her purchases. As far as she knew, she was one of five dragons that had a relationship with the town, a town of ponies to be exact.

How did such a relationship bloom? There was much she could do in the Dragon Lands to heal her kin, but she lacked supplies that ponies had in abundance. The Yaks couldn’t help, they usually smashed the supplies before she could get them. Hippogriffs ran at the sight of her, cowards that they were. Griffons were rude and demanding to such a degree Topaz would rather die than barter with them. Changelings were not to be trusted, leaving ponies as the remaining logical choice. They helped her once before, long, long, long ago, so she bet her life that they would do so again. She won out on that bet. For some specs of gold, she was given needles, disinfectants, and other such things to mend wounds.

She’d maintained a good relationship with the town ever since. Easy, as she knew most of the ponies from when they were foals, and still made the effort to see how they were doing. One of the guards, Azure Sky had wedded Choir Song three months ago, and already the two were now expecting a foal. Tulip Smile, the towns elementary School Teacher, had just finished expanding the school house to make room for a larger class this year. Wood Work, a burly stallion, was more than happy to help her with the renovations when asked. He took her out to a nice restaurant when he and his team were done, part of the payment plan he claimed. Iron Mallet had just taken on Steel Nail as a blacksmithing apprentice. Then there was an old stallion, the oldest living pony to know her, Page Turner.

The stallions had just finished securing the last bit of supplies in the crates, before Page Turner came bearing two saddlebags filled with books. The old stallion took his time, his joints popping and creaking with every move he made, before putting the books on the ground before her. These were also her orders. She wanted to get some new books now that Spike was learning to read. Of course, she needed multiple, something for Smolder and Garble, and a few books for herself.

“There we are. If these don’t get those kids reading nothing will.” Page Turner was an old stallion. His skin wrinkled and sagged, his bones creaked every time he moved an inch, and he grew more and more tired with each passing day. He was too old to still be running his bookshop, much too old, but he persisted out of love for his vocation. He was ninety-four, his wife had passed a year prior, and his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren had lives of their own. They still visited, but it was growing increasingly rare compared to when they were all younger. He still enjoyed Topaz’s visits, hard not to as he’d known her since he was born. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Topaz looked over the crates, and the books, before giving Page Turner a smile. “No, this is plenty, Little One, thank you.” She gave the ponies a gold rock each before leaving with her purchases. She returned to her cave without anyone noticing, as she liked it. She was careful who she told about the village, and even more careful when she visited. Consorting with ponies was close to treason, and she didn’t need that knowledge reaching the ears of certain clans. She only revealed her relationship with the village to the most trustworthy of her apprentices. So far, only four of the twenty-four she’d trained knew, and if all went well, Gemstone would be the fifth.

She often fantasized about showing her great-grandchildren the village. But that was unlikely. The Ironscale clan was known for their disdain for ponies, and that scorn was not unfounded. She often prayed that it would be different for Spike and his siblings, but even that was unlikely. Still, it would have been nice to introduce them to a stallion like Page Turner, or some of the foals that ran around the town, causing mischief and making general nuisances of themselves in the most adorable of ways. Deep in her heart, she knew it would never happen.

She couldn’t have known just how wrong she was.

Topaz could see the worry in Gemstone’s eyes. Smolder was still blissfully unaware of the growing tension in the room; she too was engrossed in her book to notice. Topaz let out a sigh. “It has costs and benefits, like most things in the world. The books I give them help them learn to read, Gemstone, and having some intelligence will serve them all down the road.”

“We could give them a medical journal to read.”

“Yes, because when I think of a whelp, my first thought turns to their love of phallus rashes, balms, and how to get rid of wing break! Would your little brother be interested in such a thing?” She watched as Gemstone tried to retort, but she inevitably closed her mouth and pouted. “Worry not about them and ponies. My descendants are Ironscales now. No matter what they read, how much they enjoy a book, or what ponies write. I assure you; their opinions of equine will sour. It’s only a matter of time.”

“If you say so.” Gemstone said, seeing that pressing the issue further was pointless. With that, she retreated to the back of the cave and waited for the day to end. Hours passed, but no dragon seemed to need their services that day. Topaz didn’t mind. All it meant was that no one was hurt. Smolder was more than happy to read her book, even if it was at a snail’s pace.

It was late in the afternoon when Flare came to retrieve his daughter. As he entered the cave, he instantly knew something was amiss. He gave the air a sniff once, twice, three times, before recognizing the scent. “That smell, it smells like pony,” Flare said. There was so much venom in his voice that Gemstone very nearly mistook him for a cobra. Smolder didn’t notice it though; she was much too happy. She ran to her father bringing with her the presents.

“Daddy, daddy, look what Grandma Topaz gave me!” She began to go into detail about her princess book. “There’s a dragon princess in this book, and she’s snarky! Oh, and she’s in love with a changeling prince, and has this best friend whose super shy who likes this griffon, and-” She was cut off when her father put a claw to her mouth. He was relieved that it was the books that reeked of equine, but his mood nearly turned to wrath knowing who’d given her such a gift.

“That sounds very interesting Smolder, but it’s time to go. You can tell me all about your book on the way back to the cave.” He looked towards Topaz; his glare able to pierce diamonds. “Thank your grandmother for such a-” He forced a smile, “-thoughtful gift.”

“Okay!” Smolder gave Topaz’s snout a hug. “Thank you, Grandma!” She said, before joining her father and leaving for the day.

“Smolder, I need to ask you something,” Flare said, once the two of them were in the air. “You do know not to trust ponies, correct? They can be dangerous.” There couldn't have been a bigger understatement. Dangerous couldn’t begin to describe what butchering bastards ponies were.

“I know!” Smolder said with a happy chirp, still unaware of her Father’s worry. “I like their books though. They’re really fun!”

He allowed himself a smile. Like most whelps, she was naive and innocent, blissfully unaware of any past conflicts with the ponies. He hated pushing, but he needed to make sure she knew some basic rules regarding them, for his own sake. “But you know never to accept books from ponies, correct? Even if they offered you a hoard of them.”

“I know!” Smolder said, becoming slightly annoyed. “Why are you asking me? Mama already told me not to trust them.”

“Just stupid thoughts. Fathers worry about their children, especially their daughters. Worrying and making sure you know certain rules is important. I don’t need to remind you what can happen when you break a rule, right?” She shook her head. “Good. Now, you know to keep an eye on Spike, especially when he’s given a gift, correct?”

Smolder nodded. Everyone knew about Tiamat’s Curse, otherwise known as Greed Growth. Smolder was careful never to give Spike too much, lest he grow out of control, but one book wouldn’t hurt. If by chance he did get too greedy, Garble and her would make sure Spike saw reason, even if that meant fighting him for real. It was better to have Spike hurt then turn into a monster.

“Good,” her father said. Flare gave his wings a flap and hurried along to the cave. When the siblings finally reunited that evening, her brothers instantly tore into their respective book.

Garble was given ‘The Poetry Compendium’, and Spike received ‘Burnferno, Warrior from Within’. It was the first book in a poorly written adventure series tailored for children and those wishing to live a power fantasy. The dragon slew his foes with his fire breath and snappy one-liners.

Garble was silent as he read through his book with an unseen concentration. There was a section on sonnets, but also new types of poems he’d never even heard of: Limericks, free verse, rhymed, epics, haikus, and so much more. The best part? There was a section for Garble to write his own poems, something he planned on doing soon.

Spike was more than eager to start reading after seeing his book’s cover. Much like his sister, his book’s cover, featuring a dragon knight holding aloft a blazing sword, made him want to read every word. He didn’t get too far on his own, but before bed that night, Garble sat Spike on his lap, allowing them to read Burnferno together, while Smolder next to them her head resting against Garble’s shoulder. It was the first night in a long time that the three of them fell asleep snuggled together.

When Smolder was taken home, Gemstone said a quick farewell to her master and left for the day. Being only seventeen, she still stayed with her parents. In a year she’d have her own cave, growing her own hoard, and looking for a respectable mate. Until then, she enjoyed the time she spent with her family, especially her little brother. When she landed at the mouth of her parents’ cave, her little brother, Slicer, lay waiting. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he quickly stood on all fours.

How she adored her little brother. He was happy, strong, agile, and fortunate. They were of the Steelspine clan. Their claws never dulled, never broke, and could cut through just about anything. But Slicer was so much more fortunate than that. He had the same dark grey scales as she did, the same fur that lined their collar bones, the same two silver horns that grew out from their crowns and towards their backs, and even the same shimmering silver spines that ran along their backs and tails. But he alone had a sickle at the end of his tail. It was his tail that gave their parents the thought to name him Slicer.

Like all whelps, they both had inherited their father’s ability, but Slicer was one of the few whelps in the kingdom to inherit their mother’s ability as well. Their mother was of the Sickletail clan, a group of dragons with a sharp blade near the tips of their tails. Her brother’s sickle grew out the side of his tail, slightly curved. However, his mother’s and father’s abilities had merged, resulting in Slicer’s sickle tail being just as sharp and lethal as his claws, if not more so. To dragons, this was a sign of good fortune, a blessing from Bahamut himself.

His fortune did not end there, for he had been given the clan’s birthright. Normally, the eldest of each clan would be allowed to compete for the mantle of Dragon Lord, but Gemstone had chosen her vocation already and as such, gave her birthright to her little brother. It was a favor that Slicer had no hope of repaying.

Like most whelps, being the Dragon Lord was his dream, and he had the power to make it come true. There was only one clan that could prove a threat to him, the Ironscale clan. Gemstone wasn’t too worried though. She was certain that her brother was more skilled than Garble, not to mention Slicer was one of the few dragons capable of piercing Garble’s hide. She bore no ill will towards her master’s family, but she wasn’t about to cheer against her own blood.

Gemstone watched as her brother crouched low, his tail wagging, and his body bobbing up and down. He wanted to play, normal for a drake his age. She got low, gave him a sad smile and said, “Not today, Slicer, I’m sorry.” She stroked the top of his head lovingly, her heart nearly breaking as his smile faded, replaced with a pout.

“Why not? Did something happen, are you sick?”

“No, no, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“That sounds like something happened,” Slicer pointed out.

“It’s a shaman problem, regarding shamans, it’s not meant for whelps.”

“Well, what about future Dragon Lords?”

Gemstone giggled. “It’s not meant for Dragon Lords either, current, former, or future.” Was that true? Should she go to the Torch with her worries? What would she say, that she didn’t like the type of gift Topaz gave Smolder? Torch would be more likely to yell at her for thinking it fine to meddle in another family’s affairs than it was for him to scold Topaz’s foolishness. After all, no one was being beaten or harmed, nothing was stolen, and it’s not like she led ponies to their lands.

A pony had not been seen since before Celestia ruled over the vile spec known as Equestria. She’d heard stories from elder dragons, including her late Great-Great-Grandfather, that Celestia once had a sister, before murdering her in cold blood. Typical behavior for a pony in their opinion. They would act nice, they would act sweet, they would act cute, but that’s all they would do: act. Pretend. Put on a façade before showing their true colors and driving a dagger into your heart. Why would Celestia be any different? The only issue Gemstone had with the story was that none of the older dragons could agree on the sister’s name. Some called the poor pony, if such a thing could exist, Luna, others Nightmare Moon, some Lulu. The second name was more fitting in her opinion.

But that was the past. In the present, they were safe. So safe that some dragons dared to settle in Equestria themselves, something that Gemstone thought to be nothing more than tempting fate. If a fool like that was slain in Equestria, for his hoard or for glory, Gemstone would not shed a tear for them.

“How about this, I tell you a story to tide you over, then tomorrow, we can play a game. Anything you want. Deal?”

Slicer nodded, and followed his sister deep into the cave. Gemstone began to tell her brother his favorite story, the creation of the dragon race. As she wove her tale, her brother’s eyes grew heavy and soon he fell asleep, his head resting on her lap. In that moment, all her worries seemed to fade, replaced by a feeling of security. For that she was thankful. She and her brother would never know the fear their forefathers felt in the darker days of their land, the terror of death that monsters like ponies could so easily bring just by stepping into a cave, nor would they know the pain of losing a loved one to the abhorrent spears that they wielded.

She couldn’t have known just how wrong she was.

Author's Note

A lot of effort went into this chapter, and I apologize that it took so long to release. Good news is the next one should be coming soon, and I do mean that sincerely.

Chapter 11: Gathering

As an older sibling, it was Garble’s job, nay, his duty to be there when his siblings needed him. On the first day of his punishment, Spike needed him more than ever. The two drakes stood on the precipice of a large pit, the light of the morning sun beating the crags and cliffs of the Dragon Lands, and warming any dragon that was lazing about outside. Yet to Spike and Garble, it was the coldest day of their lives.

The sun cruelly illuminated the inside of the pit, revealing to them countless dragons of various ages, with many of the younger dragons sporting gaudy trinkets as their parents sat watching from afar. Before them was a gathering, the Central Gathering, where boys went to either die a slow and painful death, or worse, find a girlfriend. It was named for its location in the heart of the Dragon Lands, and for the number of dragons that showed up.

Their mother seemed to be making sure Spike learned his lesson after his and Smolder’s fight the other day. Smolder was unfortunately absent. She had to assist their grandmother, Topaz, with her medical duties.

“Gar-Gar,” Spike said, looking up at his brother, “what’s gonna happen when we go down?”

Garble put a claw on his brother’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, as his uncle said he’d done for his father when they were little. “Nothing, because we’re Ironscales. We can face anything and come out on top. This is just another fight we need to win.”

“Oh, for Sardior’s sake, it’s a gathering, not a gauntlet,” Their mother said, her tail pushing them an inch down the winding path. Spike and Garble tried to hold their ground, but their mother, being about 100 times their size, easily overpowered them without the slightest bit of effort. “Nothing bad is going to happen, to either of you. You both will mingle, compliment any girls you might meet, and you will be on your best behavior.” She could still feel them fighting her. “I seem to need to remind you, Spike, that you’re grounded and this is going to be part of your punishment. Fighting me will not make it go away. Understand?” Spike groaned through a closed mouth and finally gave in, slowly descending into the pit on his own. Seeing that Garble was hesitant, she added, “And he can either do this alone, or have his brother with him. Which will it be?”

Spike needed to feel like he wasn’t alone. It was the only way he’d survive. Taking a deep breath, Garble followed Spike.

Satisfied, Amber directed her sons to an unoccupied spot, big enough to accommodate her amidst a group of mothers with their little whelps, ranging from three to five, all of them girls. Amber gave Spike a small push towards the group, only for him to freeze up when their gazes fell on him.

“Do I have to talk to them?” he asked with a whimper.

“Yes. It’s good for whelps to chat with each other, Spike. Not fight, chat,” Amber said. “This is just so whelps can make a friend.” A misleading statement, but a well-meaning one. While gatherings mostly existed for the benefit of daughters, sons could also profit. Parents usually tried to have their whelps converse with each other in hopes that they make connections early, making the mate seeking process easier down the line. Who better to mate with then someone you’ve known for most of your life?

Spike took just a single step forward, and was instantly swarmed. “Um, my name is Heathspike Ironscale and-”

“You’re hurt!” One of the whelps said, interrupting Spike.

“Yeah, I was-”

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Another asked.

“I don’t-”

“Is it permanent?”

“No-”

“Can you still get gems?”

“I don’t-”

“What’s your ability?”

“I-”

“How many gems do you get in a day?”

“Uh-”

“How many eggs do you want, because I want four!”

“What!?”

“Why are you asking him about how many eggs he wants? He’s mine!” A young girl sneered.

“But I saw him first, he’s my mate!” Another shouted.

“No, he’s mine!”

Spike could only watch as a brawl broke out; a very adorable, poorly choreographed, and mewling brawl. Hides were nipped, cheeks were weakly slapped, and whelps tripped, scrapping their knees, elbows, and minimal jewelry. All Spike was able to do was watch. He was missing a fight. He had to try and join in. “Mama, I know I’m not supposed to fight but-” Laughter. His little voice was drowned out by a loud collection of laughter coming from his mother and her friends.

“Remember when we were like that?” A mother asked.

“Oh, I know! It’s embarrassing looking back on it.”

“Who was it we fought over at that age?”

“Gostir, and we continued fighting over him until we were ten!” A dragoness chuckled, rolling her eyes. “If any of us had known Torch was going to win the Gauntlet, most of us would have gone for him.”

“I’d have gone for Flare all the sooner if I could do it over,” Amber said. “The months I wasted pining after Gostir.” She shook her head, but was smiling. “Did you know he wanted to have a cave in Equestria?”

“Don’t remind me about wasted time. I wasted months of my life pining over your mate’s brother,” a very bitter dragoness said. “You could have warned me about the snoring.”

For mothers, young girls fighting over a boy was nothing strange. In fact, they’d all done it at one point or another. What was funny to them was that their daughters didn’t want a partner in life when they saw Spike, they wanted a toy to play with. They were not being malicious, this was just a chance to play pretend and be like their mothers. Their mothers had a mate, so they needed one to be like them. Of course, no dragon wanted to share, so like most things in the Dragon Lands the claim to Spike would be won in a fight. In a few years, when they became teenagers, they would adorn themselves in trinkets, sit atop makeshift hoards, and watch as boys fought for their attention. Not that the fights mattered all that much. Most older girls already made up their minds about who they were going to date when attending a gathering. Being dragons, though, they did enjoy a good fight.

Spike noticed how distracted his mother was, and thought that he could sneak off. He took a single step to his left and-

“Don’t you dare move from that spot,” he heard, the voice very stern. Amber was looking down at him. “You are talking to whoever comes out on top of-” She motioned to the brawl, “-that, are we clear?” Spike nodded. “Good. And Garble?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“You’re a bit too old for this group, why don’t you go play with someone your age?” She pointed towards a group of whelps westward.

“But-”

“If you’re here, you’re mingling. Now.”

Garble knew that there was no use in arguing. Bidding Spike a sad good-bye and a sincere good luck, he struck out on his own, ready to face almost anything. This did not include a small blue, extremely unhappy whelp.

Ember wanted to throw a tantrum. She wanted her mother to know just how much she hated being at the Central Gathering. Fortunately, she was smart enough to know that doing so would only extend her punishment from a few days to an entire month, all depending on how her mother was feeling. She sat before the deep blue dragon, with the deepest red eyes, and inflated her cheeks. It let her mother know she was unhappy, but that she was being a good sport about it.

What she hated most was the jewelry. Ember, against her will, was adorned in two meticulously designed golden bracers, with red gemstones inserted into each, an anklet chain on her right leg, decorated with similar gems. On her head was a circlet with a large ruby centered on her forehead, and on each horn was a single golden ring, with four rubies inserted in each. Around her neck was a gold chain with a ruby pendent. Being the Princess meant that she was forced to wear rubies, a symbol of her family’s status.

“I know this isn’t your favorite activity, but you’re handling it well, Ember,” her mother said. “If it’s any consolation, you look very pretty. Dare I say, prettier than my friend’s daughter if she were here.” Ember’s expression did not change. “How about this, you talk to someone, anyone, by the end of the day and I’ll consider taking you home.” Just then she saw Garble wondering about with no clear destination in mind. “Do you remember that drake you attacked?”

Ember’s face twisted, and Blaze could have sworn she saw steam rising out of her head. “Yeah, I do,” she grumbled.

“Good, you can apologize to him then.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted. “He called me a scaredy drake once!”

“Ember, I was there. He didn’t.”

“Well, he thought it!”

“Ember, when I say this, know I say it out of love. Too. Bad. You’re apologizing. End of story.”

Garble grumbled obscenities that would have gotten him and his father into trouble if his mother ever heard them. His father had told him that gatherings were mainly to flirt with girls, but they were also one of the best places to fight and compete with other dragons. Flare had left out the part that the fights were used to impress a possible mate. Unfortunately, there was not a single drake his age as far as the eye could see. Everyone was either too old for him to fight, or too small for it to be fair.

He felt someone tug on his tail, and thought that his luck had turned. A challenge, it had to be! Garble quickly pivoted, getting down on all fours and growling, only to stop when he got a look at his opponent. Before him stood a girl, about two years older than his sister, fluttering her eye lashes. Her name was Prominence, a tall light purple dragon. Like Fume, she had hair, but hers was a darker shade of her scales. She wore three trinkets, two bracers and gilded comb in her hair, all silver and, studded with a mixture of amethyst and sapphires. She was part of Garble’s group, but they had never actually talked before.

“Hi, Garble,” She said, taking a step forward.

“Hi?” She took another step closer, and Garble instantly took a step back.

“It’s nice to see you. Are you looking for someone?” Another, long step forward, this time entering his personal space.

“No. Not really.” She took a third step forward, pressing her chest against his, smiling while meeting his gaze with half-lid eyes. Garble took a sudden step back, and Prominence fell forward on her stomach. “Prominence, are you okay?”

Garble’s confusion was well warranted. He never drew the attention of girls before. On a good day, he might call a girl dumb, and they’d call him gross. Little did he realize that the change in attitude was because of his recent victory over Arrow Firefang. Mature dragons looked for a mate with good parental instincts, a nice personality, maturity, and a large hoard, but young dragons only cared about one attribute: Strength. The stronger the dragon, the more desirable. After defeating Arrow, Garble was now considered the strongest dragon there was.

A giggle erupted the moment Garble asked his question, and a shiver crawled up his spine the moment an absurdly long tail brushed against his arm.

“Isn’t it obvious Garble? Prominence is embarrassing herself.” A new dragon, Ballista Axebeak, was circling him. She had long curved horns growing upwards out the top of her head, angled upward towards the back of her and the tip of her snout was shaped like an axe head. She was pink, and had a long, powerful tail that she often used as a seat. She wore little, only a necklace with an emerald pendant hanging from the end. She leaned into Prominence and whispered. “I don’t think he’s interested in you. I’m sure Garble wants someone more refined.” Ballista had heard her cousin use the word earlier in the week. She added it to her mental dictionary, waiting to use it to degrade someone while lifting herself up.

“Are you guys okay?” Garble asked. Maybe they ate something bad this morning.

“No, because they’re delusional if they think you’re interested in them!” A third dragon said, appearing to the right of Garble. “It's understandable that you're interested in someone else. Those two couldn’t keep an egg safe if they had it stored in a vault.” She gave her competitors a smirk before nuzzling Garble’s arm. Her name was Scales Sunwing. She was a very pale pink, countering Ballista’s deep pink hide, and had lovely teal eyes. She wore several anklets, thin bracelets, a necklace, and even had earrings on, all studded with at least one ruby. Her grandfather was the Dragon Lord before Torch, so she was the dragon equivalent of nobility. “Don’t you two think that a drake as strong as him deserves someone elegant, beautiful, and strong? Someone like me, right Garble?”

Garble remained silent. Though young, he knew that there was no safe answer to that question.

Prominence began to growl loudly. “How about you both back off. I got to him first!”

Ballista lifted her tail and slammed it against the floor, sending a loud crash echoing through the pit. If she hadn’t roared like a kitten, it would have been the most threatening display Garble had ever seen. “It doesn’t matter if you saw him first, he’s obviously interested in me!”

“You couldn’t get a hungry roc interested in you!” Scales remarked. “He obviously wants someone that doesn’t sit on a weird tail. Besides, I’m the prettiest and a noble.” She lifted her head up high and smiled. “If he’s interested in anyone, it’s me.”

“Weird tail?! I’ll sit on you, brat!” Ballista shouted before pouncing on Scales. Prominence followed not a moment after. Ballista’s tails slammed into Prominence, sending the poor girl flying a few feet before Scales pounced on her back and delivered a bite to her upper shoulder. Prominence hissed in pain before throwing herself backwards, slamming Scales on the cold hard earth. Seeing they were distracted, Garble slowly backed away. Unfortunately, it was not the only brawl his presence caused. It happened twice more.

After walking from the third brawl, Garble grumbled to himself as he sat down behind a rock and snorted a plume of smoke that would have done credit to a train. As if being stuck at the Central Gathering wasn’t enough, there were no drakes his age to play with and all the girls thought that he was interested in them and fighting each other. Was there anything else that could make the day worse? Just then a bracer flew and hit the side of his head, not hard enough to cause him pain, but enough to garner his attention.

To his left was Ember Brightcrest, putting back on her bracer, her cheeks puffed, and an intense glare on her face.

“What do you want?” He asked, recognizing her from the other day.

“To apologize,” she grumbled. “I’m sorry I beat you up.”

There was nothing more offensive to Garble than the insane notion that anyone, other than Spike or Smolder, had ever beaten him. “You didn’t. You tackled me and then ran away! If anything, you gave up.”

“Shut up!” Ember snapped. “I knocked you to the ground, punched you, and you didn’t get back up to fight, so I won!”

“If I’d wanted to, I could have taken you on! The only reason I didn’t was because I just beat Arrow.”

Ember simply rolled her eyes. She could already see that arguing was going to be pointless. He was like her dad, unwilling to admit when she won a fight. “Look, I’m apologizing for beating you, so accept my apology!”

“No! You didn’t beat me, you ran away!”

“Because you weren’t getting back up! Why are you so dumb?” Why was she even arguing? She apologized, what more did she need to do? She wasn’t going to press the issue if he was going to ignore reality. With a huff, she ended the conversation and marched back to her mother. “I talked to someone; can we go now?”

“Was talking to someone just you apologizing to that drake? And by apologize, I mean yell at.”

“Maybe,” realizing that she’d been apologizing to Garble rather loudly.

“Then no. When I say talk, I mean play nice with someone. Anyone at this point. Just a short conversation.”

Ember let out an annoyed groan before turning back. Maybe Prominence would want to talk about which gems were best, or perhaps Ballista and her could talk about how stupid drakes were. Well, once they pealed themselves off the floor. They, along with several other whelps lay on the ground defeated. Of course, she missed a fight. The Central Gathering was already the most miserable place on Earth, so what else was to be expected?

Ember suddenly heard stones clatter behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she peered back, but saw no dragon. She heard a voice trying to whisper, but she still could not see a dragon. While she waited for Prominence or Ballista to recover, perhaps she could beat whoever was following her into the ground.

She hurried up, and more stones clattered as her stalker tried to keep pace with her.

What annoyed her was that her stalker wasn’t even doing a very good job stalking her. She was going to enjoy teaching them a quick lesson. Ember subtly undid the latch of her anklet and kicked it off. “Oh no!” Her cry and gasp were beyond forced, but her stalker didn’t seem to notice. Ember skipped forward and made as big a show as she could when picking up her anklet. Her stalker took the bait. Scales leapt out at her, and Ember quickly stepped out of the way.

Scales landed on her stomach, and Ember tackled her. She quickly grabbed Scales’ arm and bent it behind her back while her free hand held her body down. A victory, but not one that meant anything. Scales had a black eye and slight bruising on her arms and body. “You better have a good reason for attacking me!” Ember snapped. She jerked Scales’ arm up, eliciting a cry of pain.

“Ow, ow, ow! I do, I do, just stop!” She whined. Ember relaxed, but still kept a firm grip on her wrist. “I saw you talking with Garble and I thought you were trying to get between us. I beat everyone else fair and square; he’s supposed to be mine! You don’t get to claim him just because you’re the Princess!”

Scales was just about the only whelp that knew Ember was the Princess. In general, whelps knew that Torch had a daughter, they just never bothered to find out who she was, nor did they bother asking Ember her clan name. Why would they? The important dragon was Torch, not the whelp he happened to father.

As Scales wriggled in Ember’s grip, a thought occurred. Ember had just beaten her, so fast and so easy, it was bordering on embarrassing. With how Dragons usually handled things, that meant that Garble was hers. “Please don’t date him.” She said, ceasing her pointless struggles

“Why would I care about a boulderhead like him?” Ember asked.

“Because he’s the strongest drake there is!” Scales cried. “He beat Arrow. No one’s ever beaten Arrow!”

A light appeared above Ember’s head, about as bright as the sun. Scales was right, Garble was the first dragon to ever beat Arrow, and she was the first dragon to beat Garble. Ember released her arm and looked back at the drake. “So, if he beat Arrow, and I beat him, that means I’m the strongest,” she said to herself. A smile began to form, only for it to fade the moment Scales began laughing.

“You, the strongest? You couldn’t even beat Clump!”

“I beat you!” Ember said, tempted to start reapplying pressure on her arm.

“And?”

“And I was fighting four at the same time!”

“You knocked them down once, and then Clump got back up and beat you without breaking a sweat!” She gave the blue dragon a smirk. “And in case you forgot, you were the one that needed someone to come and help. It’s like you were a helpless little princess in those pony stories!”

“I beat him up after he beat Arrow!”

“You probably ran when you realized how stupid attacking him was!”

Ember face turned a deep, murderous red, but kept herself from lashing out. Scales wasn’t worth it; everyone knew she could beat Scales. She needed to go after the bigger fish. If Garble was considered the strongest, then all she needed to do was beat him, publicly this time. If she could do that, then everyone else would have to admit that she wasn’t weak. Ember got off Scales. “I’m going to beat up your boyfriend.”

“Good luck!” Scales said in an overly mocking tone. She knew how this was going to turn out, and it made her smile. Garble was going to demolish her.

Ember got on all fours, and slowly crept towards Garble. Unlike Scales, she didn’t make a single sound. Not even her jewelry jingled. He never saw her coming until after she tackled him.

Nuzzles. There was nothing Spike hated more than nuzzles, except when it came from his mother, sister, or grandmothers. They could nuzzle him all they wanted, but they were family. It was when other girls nuzzled him that he hated them. It felt like. Like. He didn’t exactly know how it felt, in fact it felt like another nuzzle that his sister would give him. However, his face was hot and he assumed that it was a bad omen. In truth Spike was blushing.

The winner of the brawl, who had claimed Spike for the afternoon, was an adorable green dragon named Jade Spiketail. She was a brilliant light green, had two cream-colored horns, and at the end of her tail, four small spikes grew, two on each side. The rest of the whelps could only sulk back to their spots, and be adored by passing dragons as they were showered with complements, before growing bored and playing Hide and Seek, Tag, or Raid the Nest, where two groups of dragons tried to steal egg shaped rocks from one another and bring them back to their nests. Once all the eggs from one side had been stolen, the game was over.

Spike had done everything to try and free himself from Jade's embrace. He tried to pull himself free, but her grip was too tight. He explained, loudly, that he was adopted and that he had no idea what his ability was, but she didn’t care. He told her that he was slashed fighting an older dragon, but she was impressed he tried fighting an older dragon. So long as she had Spike and Ashton, she was happy. Jade brought along a smooth oval shaped rock named Ashton. It was her and Spike's egg, and they were a happy family now. Spike did not have a choice in the matter.

“Heathspike, how much do you love me and Ashton?” Jade asked, eliciting several soft laughs from the surrounding mothers.

They knew Spike was not having fun, but Jade was so naïve that she made the entire affair innocent and cute. After today, Jade’s mother would have a short talk with her daughter about a dragon’s ability to say no to her advances, and personal boundaries. For now, Spike was as red as his brother, and Jade was showing him and her egg nothing but unfettered affection. She would sit back and enjoy the show while she could.

Unfortunately, the show was interrupted when Garble let out strident cry.

‘Gar-Gar,’ Spike thought. Finding an untouched pool of strength deep within himself, he easily managed to tear himself from Jade and scurry towards the origin of the sound. However, two talons descended and Spike was easily lifted up into the air.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Amber asked, already knowing where her son was dashing off to. “It’s very rude to just leave such a nice girl behind, especially when she's watching your egg!”

“But Garble’s in trouble!” Spike desperately explained. “He might need my help!”

“You are not helping him, even if he was in trouble. You are still hurt.”

“But mama-!”

“No buts, Heathspike.” She put Spike back next to Jade, and the young girl once again wrapped his arm in a hug. “Besides, your brother is doing fine, he’s-” Amber’s eyes went wide the moment she saw who her son was fighting. There would never be a time she felt as embarrassed as she did now. “-going to be lucky to see the sun in a year.” Her brute of a son was fighting with Princess Ember herself, at the Central Gathering of all places. She lowered her head and muttered to herself as she watched the fight go on.

If she had gotten a better look, however, she would have noticed that Garble was dodging more than he as fighting. He’d kicked Ember off of him after the initial tackle, but after that, he was on the defensive. Ember’s hits were precise for her age, but most experienced fighters could tell that she was basically flailing, and slowly tiring herself out. For Ember, Garble’s refusal to fight infuriated her to no end. Did he know that she was the Princess? It would explain why he was only dodging. After all, if he hit her father's poor little princess, Torch would rain hellfire down on him.

“Stop dodging and fight me like a dragon!” Ember demanded.

Garble clenched his teeth in annoyance. What she wanted was a problem. It was not because he knew she was Torch’s daughter, he didn’t. In truth, Garble was starting to have trouble fighting smaller dragons ever since he’d taken Spike and Smolder to his quarry weeks ago. He had trouble justifying hitting anyone significantly weaker than him after declaring Spike and Smolder off limits to his friends, doubly so after calling them cowards for fighting Ember. If challenged by a small dragon, he usually just intimidated them into backing down. He tried to take a gem once or twice, but even that caused his stomach to knot. Why did he need to see Charcoal trying to steal Spike’s gem?

If Ember was challenging him, all he could do was make her back down. Garble caught Ember’s next punch, and threw her arm back at her, making her stumble before falling to the ground. Knitting his brows and squinting his eyes, Garble glared at the little princess, baring his fangs and breathing out an intense burst of flame. He began to growl as he took a single, powerful stomp forward. “You really need to think about what you’re asking,” he snarled. “I’ve beat Clump, Fume, Fizzle, Charcoal, and Spear so many times, I can’t count them all. I’ve beaten Arrow Firefang, the biggest drake there is. Do you really want to fight someone like me?”

His eyes seemed to glow a menacing yellow that would have made a weaker dragon quiver in fear, but Ember returned the glare just as intensely. She stood, walked up until their chests were touching and said, “I beat you once, I’m going to do it again.”

They kept their eyes locked with one another until Garble finally blinked. “A three count.”

“What?”

“We fight until someone is pinned for a three count,” Garble mumbled. He couldn’t back down, but he did not want to have the rep of being the drake that punched a girl in the face at the Central Gathering. The three count was the only option he had.

Ember just rolled her eyes. And she was the coward? If anything, this moron seemed like he would do anything except fight. All the easier to beat him. “Fine, but when I beat you, you have to accept my apology.”

“Like you’ll win.”

“I’ll keep count!” A very high pitched, yet sweet voice cried. They both turned to see Scales, watching them.

“Fine,” They both said.

“Before you start,” Scales slithered around Garble and flashed a coy smile. “Garble, promise that you’ll win for me.” Scales said, once again invading Garble’s personal space. She put her chin in her claws and fluttered her eyelashes.

“No,” He said without missing a beat.

With puffed cheeks and humph, she separated the two and backed up to a safe distance. “On three! One, two, three!”

Before Garble knew it, Ember was dashing towards him. He didn’t know what to expect, so he crouched low, readying himself for impact. However, Ember stopped running, and began sliding on the ground. Her body began turning, and with a loud grunt of effort, she used her tail to fling up a cloud of dirt. Garble’s eyes clenched shut just in time and he leapt back, avoiding a strike through luck. Without the use of his eyes, though, he was hit with a follow up, square in the jaw. It was a good, solid punch, but it lacked the force that Arrow or Clump had. His instincts demanded that he strike back, but he managed to suppress them. He knew how strong he was; he could beat her without hitting her. Garble opened his eyes just in time to dodge another one of Ember’s punches. He dodged another, and another, and finally caught the third. He pushed forward and grabbed her free wrist, tackling her to the ground. Garble forcefully crossed her arms across her chest and held her down as she struggled.

Ember did her best to break free from his grasp, but she lacked the leverage. She grunted, cursed, she even tried biting his arms, but nothing worked. She even tried spewing fire but Garble simply closed his eyes and bore any discomfort. She had to think of something, she couldn’t lose here, not like-

“Three!” Scales suddenly shouted. Just like that, Ember’s hope for victory faded into oblivion. Her struggles ceased, and she simply lay under her opponent, unmoving, almost unresponsive.

Garble had never seen the look on her face before, not on a single dragon. Yet, somehow, he knew what it was: defeat. He separated himself from her, giving her room to stand. The punch Ember threw hit the side of his face harder than any blow she previously struck. Garble had to admit that it was a great right hook, one that would have put a weaker dragon to bed. Still, despite her anger towards him, there was something about her eyes that made him feel almost sorry for her.

Scales felt no pity though. She gave Ember her widest, most self-satisfied smirk. “See? I told you he was the strongest~” Scales sang. “Not that you ever had a chance. But look on the bright side, now you know your place on the mountain.”

“So what if he won?” Ember said, glaring at Scales. “It was barely a real fight, and I managed to sneak up on him!”

“And you still lost!” Scales said with a cackle. “You even had an advantage; Garble barely touched you. That’s because he’s a gentledrake.” Scales went to latch onto Garble’s arm, only for the drake to take a step back at the last moment. Without anything to grab onto, Scales hit the ground with a thud and began to whimper. She looked up at Garble with teary eyes. “Garble, I think I’m hurt,” she sniffed. “Won’t you help me up?” She made a show out of putting pressure on her wrist, only to wince and pull back.

Uninterested in helping, Garble turned around and began humming to himself.

“I said I’m hurt; won’t you help me, a poor, sweet, innocent girl up?” She sniffled and whimpered, nearly on the verge of tears. Still no attention. “Garble, I said I’m hurt!” She said, now using an angrier tone. She quickly began to whimper again, her face telling the world that she was a poor victim that desperately needed help, while her eyes screamed ‘do what I want before I kill you’. Her lip began to quiver, before gently sobbing into her hands. “How could you just leave me like this?” She asked through her crocodile tears. He still refused to turn around. “Help me up already!” She shouted, her face twisting into a snarl.

“I think I hear my brother calling,” Garble said, quickly scuttling towards his mother.

“Your brother-Garble, that’s not what you’re supposed to do when a beautiful girl is hurt!” She screamed as he walked away. With him gone, Scales easily stood on her own, miraculously able to put weight on her wrist.

“You’re pathetic,” Ember jeered.

Scales turned her nose up, cleaned the dirt off her, and marched towards her father, who was chuckling to himself over his daughter’s misfortune. Garble was rude, but he was also staying away from her, so he’d let it slide.

Ember, with no other reason to remain, returned to her mother, who was beyond mad. The little princess could only ponder what was about to happen to her. “I talked to them!” she said.

“You did, and then you made a spectacle of yourself.” Talons reached down, and grasped Ember by the scruff of her neck. “We are going home little missy, we are talking with your father, and we are having a long discussion about how a princess is supposed to act at a gathering.” The whelp feebly thrashed in her mother’s grip, but soon resigned herself to her fate, but not before looking back at Garble one last time.

“This isn’t over!” She cried out. Garble stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m going to beat you, you hear me?! We’re rivals for life!”

That dragon was going to annoy him for weeks, he could already tell. Shrugging off the threat, Garble looked up at his mother, saw the look of fury on her face, and considered running as far into the mountains as he could, changing his name, and finding a tribe of Diamond Dogs to live with. “What’d I do?” he asked.

“Garbuncle Ironscale, do you have a single clue who you were fighting with, how embarrassing that was to watch?”

“A loud mouth?” Garble asked in response. Spike snickered loudly. Only to be silenced by his mother’s glare.

“Garble. One week. Grounded.” She looked around and noticed all the whispering. “And we’re going home. Say goodbye to Jade, Spike. And before you ask, yes, you have to say goodbye.”

“Bye, Jade,” Spike grumbled. He was shocked to receive a peck on the cheek. His entire face reddened until his cheeks were brighter and redder than his brother’s. Knowing that her youngest had now had enough for today, Amber put Spike and Garble on her back and quickly flew off towards their cave.

The moment Amber returned home, she went to Flare and began to nuzzle him affectionately.

“How did you know I was upset?” Flare asked.

“I didn’t. What happened?” Flare motioned to Smolder and the books she’d been given, only to receive an eye roll. Spike and Garble, wide-eyed, scurried to her side and looked over the gifts. “That’s getting you upset? Flare, when they get bored and whiney, you are going to be thanking my grandmother for those. Besides, it’s not like reading is killing them.” She resumed her affectionate nuzzles, sighing in relief as Flare wrapped his arms around her, pulling her just an inch close to him. “This is for me. I need this after what I had to go through.”

“What happened?” Flare asked.

Amber began to recount the day, only for her mate to laugh uncontrollably.

He through his head back, his laughter echoing through the cave, infecting their children and forcing them to laugh as well. “Flare, this isn’t funny!”

“You’re right, this is hilarious! Spike and Garble turn out to be such lady killers, they just need to stand there and girls fight over them! Not only that, but Garble barely puts up a fight against one of them and still wins easily! How is that embarrassing?”

“Because he was fighting Princess Ember. The daughter of one of the most violent and protective Dragon Lords to ever walk the Earth.” she whispered through gritted teeth.

“It’s only embarrassing because it happened at a gathering,” Flare said, chuckling as his mate gave him a look that made her seem like a small child herself. “Trust me, barely anyone is going to be talking about Garble’s little skirmish.”

Flare was right. Hardly anyone cared about Garble and Ember’s scuffle. As far as they were concerned, it was just another day in the Dragon Lands. Parents were more interested to see what Torch would do when he found out. It soon came out that he didn’t care about the scuffle. Ember hadn’t been hurt, so it wasn’t even worth remembering.

The real piece of gossip that spread like a wildfire was Spike’s unique circumstances regarding his family. Most dragons thought Amber and Flare to be paragons of virtue to adopt an abandoned whelp. Most parents thought it difficult enough raising one whelp, let alone two, but to willingly take on a third, one that wasn’t even laid by Amber, was unthinkably kind. Most whelps that overheard the whispers didn’t care too much about it. Spike was small, and for now that was all that mattered.

Finally, there was little Jade Spiketail. After meeting Spike, she couldn’t help but fantasize about their future together. Jade Ironscale was such a beautiful, noble sounding name. She couldn’t wait until they were old enough to start courting for real. She could already picture how perfect that day would be.

Twelve Years Later

Jade’s voice could be heard across the land. “You’re dating a pony!?”

Author's Note

An alternate POV for last chapter, following Spike and Garble's day at a gathering. And what a day it was.

Also, yes, I added Scales, the dragon from that one story in The Hearth's Warming Club, because I am running out of dragon names to use, and the design was right there. Any who, thanks for reading and I hope that you enjoy.

Chapter 12: Discussions and Reprimands

Ember had made her mother furious, and there was no greater mistake that she could have made. Upon returning home, the princess had been put before her father to await a punishment. Normally it was her mother who decided, as she was firm but fair. If pushed enough, Blaze would defer to Torch, who was anything but fair. So, it frightened Ember to her core when she heard her mother say, ‘Whatever you decide Torch, I’ll support it.’ To her father, that meant, ‘Don’t let her leave the cave until she’s about a hundred.’ However, she felt a glimmer of hope when her father asked her mother a very odd question.

“Are you sure she was in a fight?” Torch meticulously looked over Ember but failed to see even a single scale out of place. There were no new bruises, no lacerations, nor was anything broken. She didn’t even scrape her knee. Ember looked mad, which wasn’t out of the ordinary as she had a fragile temperament, but she was otherwise unharmed.

“I assure you that she was,” Blaze said, wondering why he was taking so long to ground her. She saw her mate start to bare his fangs, and realized that her depiction of events could prove hazardous to certain whelps involved. “I would be remiss if I said that he wasn’t gentle with her.”

“He?” The word he meant a drake, and a drake fighting his daughter rose an alarm.

“Yes, he. Before you ask, no I will not tell you his name. He is not the problem. Ember attacked him at a gathering, which is not supposed to happen, Ember.” Blaze gave her daughter a look as she put extra emphasis on her name.

“Other dragons fought; It’s not like I was the only one,” Ember argued. “Why do you care if I fought Scales’ boyfriend? He’s nothing special.” Just like that, the alarm in Torch’s head went silent, and the Dragon Lord went back to calmly looking over his whelp.

“As misguided as their actions were, that’s at least some level of normal. What you did is almost unheard of. You’re the Princess Ember, you shouldn’t be goading drakes into fighting you, especially when you’re at a gathering.”

“It shouldn’t matter if I’m the princess or if we’re at a gathering; he’s my rival! That means we have to fight!” Ember declared.

“He’s your rival, now?” Torch asked, visibly confused. “The drake that didn’t hurt you is your rival?”

“He wanted to embarrass me,” Ember huffed, crossing her arms. Why else would he refuse to hit her? There was no other feasible reason to not hit a dragon, but still fight them. She didn’t mention the worst part about the exchange: Scales. She was still furious with how the girl mocked her.

Torch let out a snort, stifling a laugh at the very last moment. This dragon must have been some rival. His rivals had a penchant to smash his face against a wall before trying to break one of his arms. Her rival fought her so gently, he didn’t leave a mark on her.

“He must either be confident or powerful,” Torch joked, setting Ember down.

“He acts like he’s both.” Her face hardened at the memory of Scales’ smug face and she could only imagine how Garble talked about her to his friends. She was going to get back at both, and that meant defeating Garble. She saw her Father’s grin and she huffed a thick cloud of smoke. “I’m going to beat him, no matter how long it takes! Just you watch!”

Normally, the mere thought of Ember fighting anyone terrified him, but here he was almost okay with it. He always assumed the little monsters that his peers brought into the world would grind his daughter, is very small, skinny, frail daughter, into a fine paste. It was only a few days ago that he’d been proven right. Yet here she was after fighting one of those monsters, unscathed.

Blaze readied herself for the screaming match that was about to unfurl. She knew that Torch would go a bit overboard, which was understandable given the circumstance, but she wasn’t planning on being too cruel to their daughter. What ever he said, she’d be sure to do damage control later. For now, she waited for her mate’s decree.

“If you think you can beat him, then you may try,” Torch said.

“What?” He heard his family say.

“Care to repeat that Torch? I must have misheard you.”

“If our daughter thinks she can beat this little mystery dragon, then she can try!”

“You-you mean it?” Ember asked feeling a slight heaviness in her chest. Her anger seemed to vanish and she could only stare at her father wide-eyed. “You think I could beat him?”

“I said you could try. From what I’m hearing he’s a mighty warrior. To even have a chance, you’d need to focus on fighting him and him alone, train every day, and eat right.” He glanced towards Blaze, saw the strange look on her face and recalled why this conversation had even started. “Oh, and if you fight him or any other drake at a gathering, there will be consequences. Understood?” He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the wide smile Ember wore, the tears of joy welling in her eyes that she quickly wiped away. She lovingly gave his snout a tight hug.

“I do, I do. Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m going to go to bed so that I can get up early and fight him right away!” And Ember did just that, giggling all the way to her sleeping spot.

Once their daughter was gone, Blaze glared at Torch.

“I scolded her, what’s the matter?”

Her tail shot forth and wrapped around his throat. The Dragon Lord was then forced to the ground before having his head hit repeatedly. He caught glimpses of Blaze’s face between hits. First, she looked homicidal, then confused, and then horrified, with her putting her claws over her mouth.

“You’re not a changeling!” She cried, releasing her mate. “Torch, I’m so sorry! It’s just-”

“Why would you think I’m one of those insects?” Torch asked, rubbing the top of his head. The attack had been non-lethal, so there was not much point in getting mad. Even if it had been, Blaze was not as strong as most dragons. She was beautiful, kind, caring, intelligent, but she was not blessed with strength.

“You’ve never said that to Ember, ever! You usually just yell that she might get hurt-” Her eyes widened the moment she recalled a very important detail about today’s fiasco. Garble hadn’t hurt Ember. “I see what you’re doing, Torch,” she huffed. “You want her fighting her friend because you think she won’t get hurt!”

“Yes. Your point?” Torch asked. “She’s happy, I’m happy, and I think that even you’re happy considering that I’m willing to let her play with one of those little monsters. If I'm wrong, then we go back to the way things were, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue? Torch the issue is-! It’s-You see-When you say-.” She was unable to think of a problem, other than it might be temporary. For the first time in their lives, Torch was right. At least for now, all three of them got what they wanted. Ember got to fight, Torch had made sure that she was safe, and despite the reason for it, Blaze was happy that Ember was interacting with a whelp her age. “Shut up.” She finally said, puffing her cheeks. Torch chuckled as he put his arms around the pouting Blaze, giving her a loving peck on her cheek.

Later that night, Ember couldn’t help but dream about her future as Dragon Lord, and what it would mean for her rivalry with Garble. Naturally, it would lead to nothing good. Their hatred for one another would be so raw and palpable, that a new type of gem would sprout from the ground, a deep red color that tasted as bitter as their loathing. Their conflict would be passed down to their children and to their children’s children, encoded into their very being. Ember didn’t worry too much about it, as she knew that her side would win their feud in the end.

Things would only grow worse once she became Dragon Lord. Garble would be unable to accept defeat, leave the Dragon Lands, and inevitably become an evil dragon tyrant. Then again, was there any other role for him? Garble was made to be the bad guy. He was super strong, kind of dim, had a maw that could easily rip out a roc’s throat, but he seemed smart enough to have an evil plan. His gang would be his evil generals, Scales was obviously the slimy and treacherous shrew he’d have to settle for after becoming evil, while she would be the amazing, benevolent, intelligent, wise, strong, powerful, and humble Dragon Lord she was meant to be, just like the ones in the stories her father often told her at night. She and Garble would clash over and over, with more and more of Garble’s forces being captured, until they had their final battle atop the tallest mountain in the world. Once she had defeated Garble, she would be named the greatest Dragon Lord in the history of the universe and have a holiday named after her.

Playing out their war in her dreams put a joyful smile on her face.

Author's Note

I didn't want to go another month without posting, so here's a shorter chapter as I finish editing the real next chapter.

Chapter 13: Rivals

After two long weeks, Spike’s wounds were finally healed. When the bandages were finally removed, he saw that he now carried three scars on each of his forearms. Some would think this to be a reminder of his and Smolder’s foolishness, but Spike was young, and he could only think about how cool they looked.

“Look at them!” Spike said with a happy chirp showing them to his mother. They were perfectly straight, and equally spaced out. Though there was a grim memory of that day in the back of his head, he chose to focus on the aesthetically pleasing look about them.

“Spike, those are scars. Stop admiring them,” Amber chided.

“I have to agree with your mother. You need to let girls admire them. Jade will probably think they make you look dashing.” Spike turned a deep red, and Amber jabbed her mate’s shoulder. Despite the pain, Flare laughed heartily.

“Now that Spike’s better, does that mean that we can finally go out and play?” Smolder asked.

That question was music to Flare’s ears. He loved his whelps, more than anything, but they had driven him mad the past two weeks. They went stir crazy at least once every two days, if not sooner. Spike, and to a lesser extent, Smolder, threw several tantrums throughout the day that lasted several minutes and whittled down their patience to the last nerve.

Flare had thought about pawning them off with Topaz for a day but decided against it. He didn’t want them getting any more books. Jasper was seeing a new paramour near the Equestrian boarder, which he would rather die than send his children to, and Smog was still banned from the cave. The only other member was Furnace, and could scarcely recall the children’s names. Now they were free to run until their little hearts gave out, and all he or Amber needed to do was watch them.

“I don’t see why not. Amber, why don’t you take the day, and I’ll-” Before he could finish his sentence, Amber was curled around their hoard, snoozing soundly. “Let’s leave your mother to her sleep,” He whispered to his children. Putting them all on his back, Flare took them to their preferred play place.

Ember grumbled to herself as she scanned the quarry for Garble. In the quarry Whelps sat digging holes and finding gems of various sizes and rarities. However, none of them were her rival. The last she saw him was last week, with his little brother, and Scales, who latched onto his arm. Recalling the scolding from her father she didn’t challenge him, but issued several threats and boasts.

“He’s not here again!?” She let out a groan as she tugged at her stubby horns. “What good is a rival if he doesn’t show up to fight?!” Maybe it was the weather? It was a cool day for the dragon lands, only about 102 degrees. If that were the case, though, was he really someone she wanted as a rival if a little bit of cold got under his scales? “Mom, where does Garble live? I’m going to have to drag him out here to fight him!”

“He’ll come eventually, sweetie. You just need to be patient.”

“But I don’t want to be patient! If he doesn’t show up, I’m going to have to fight Ballista or Prominence again, and they’re barely a challenge! Ugh, doesn’t that boulderhead know how this works? I’m supposed to fight him, beat him, and then he’s supposed to become evil! Then, I’ll have to defeat him again to stop him from, like, setting everything in the world on fire!” She spoke with the urgency of a dragon claiming to have seen a group of dragon slayers. There was one more reason she wanted to fight him, she wanted to make her father proud. He believed in her. For the first time in his life, he believed in her. He believed that she could defeat Garble, he believed that she could be strong, he believed that she could be a real dragon. She had to prove him right.

“That’s nice, Ember,” Blaze said. She was never one to humor Ember’s more verbose fantasies. She’d heard from Amber recently that Spike’s punishment was nearly up, so it stood to reason that the three would be together. She saw a bright red dragon, landing near a playpen not too far away from them. On his back was one, two, and she smiled seeing the tallest, third whelp. “I think I see your rival.”

“Where?!” Ember scurried up her mother’s back and neck until she was firmly planted on her head. She followed her mother’s gaze and saw Garble climbing off his father’s back. With the speed of lightning Ember was on the ground running towards the Ironscales.

“Have fun,” Her mother called after her. She sat quietly with herself for a moment or two, before a feeling took hold. She stood and silently followed her daughter, just to make sure nothing went wrong.

Garble could see how excited Spike and Smolder were to finally be able to play once more. Their little tails wagged, they were uncontrollably bouncing in place, and their smiles could melt the icy heart of a pony if seen. Their eyes were wide and sparkling, just waiting for their older brother to give the word, and have them begin their fight. A word that never came as a blue blur crashed into him, pinning him on his back. Flare winced, while Spike froze, dumbfounded. Smolder burst into giggles. She always found sneak attacks to be funny, especially when they happened to Garble.

“I want you to fight me!” Ember shouted, making eye contact with Garble, while giving him the angriest, and frankly, most adorable glare she could.

“You again? What’s your problem?”

“You! You’re my problem!” Ember responded.

It took a moment, but Spike managed to reboot before scrambling to his sister. “Smolder, it’s the cheater!” He gripped his sister’s arm, shaking it urgently, pointing at the blue dragon, who still had Garble pinned. “She attacked Garble right after he fought Arrow and again at the gathering! Mama grounded him for that!”

“Did Garble lose?” Smolder asked.

“No.”

“Then why does it matter that she’s fighting him?”

“Well, attacking him the first time wasn’t fair!”

Flare put his head down next to his son, speaking firmly. “The first rule to always remember, Spike, unfortunate as it maybe. Life is not fair.”

“Can we help?” Spike asked.

“No, no, let’s just see where this goes.” Flare glanced up and saw Lord Consort Blaze, across from him. He was nearly certain that Garble would be fine, no matter the outcome of the fight, but he kept in mind that Torch was a dragon that got angry at the drop of a rock, so it never hurt to double check certain facts. Minding the children, he stepped next to her and whispered, “How much trouble will he be in for this if Torch finds out?”

“None. My mate actually encouraged this.”

“The dragon that flies off the handle when someone glances at his daughter the wrong way, gave her his blessing to fight with my son.”

“I know how it sounds. I thought he was a changeling when he said it, but it turns out that Garble is not as brutal as he looks. I’m sorry for Ember she’s-.”

“She’s a whelp, it’s how they are when they’re young.” Flare said with a shrug. “I say we see what happens.”

Unwilling to argue, Blaze turned her attention back to the children.

“Fine, get off of me, and we’ll fight,” Garble said.

Ember did just that. “Mom, can you give us a signal?” Ember asked.

“Alright,” she said with a sigh. “When I say begin, you two may start fighting. Ready?” She saw the two of them take a stance. “Begin.”

Ember went in and hit Garble with a right hook, she went for a left, only for him to move back, same with the third.

Ember went for another tackle, only for Garble to dodge and tackle her from behind, trapping her in a bear hug. “Hey, let me go!” She shouted. She struggled and yelled in his grip for a few minutes, spewing fire and whacking him with her tail, but that only forced him to pin her on the ground, and nip at the back of her neck, eliciting a sharp yelp from the girl. At that moment, Flare finally stepped in and effortlessly pulled the two apart.

“That’s enough Garble,” he said. “You beat her, let her go. He did beat her, yes?”

“He very clearly nipped her,” Blaze affirmed.

Her mother was right. He did nip to the back of the neck, a very old, but universally known rule for victory among whelps. Ember slammed her fist on the ground. “Let’s go again!” She said, getting on all fours and letting out a very gentle, soft roar, that wouldn’t have frightened a mouse. She shrunk when she heard her mother clear her throat. “Did I do something wrong?” Ember asked, becoming suddenly calmer and bit submissive.

“No, but you’re acting a bit rude, Ember. Garble was very nice to play with you, but he came here with his siblings. They were nice enough to let you have your turn first, but now its theirs. Once they’re done, you can see if he’s willing to have a rematch.”

“Sounds fair,” Flare said. “Right, Garble?”

“I guess.” He had a sneaking suspicion that this was one of the times that his father was not actually asking him his opinion.

“But they might tire him out!” Ember argued. “It’ll be unfair if I fight him after he fights them! I need to beat him at his best!” It was quickly becoming a no-win situation. If she attacked him, she was certain to be grounded, but if she waited and rested, she’d be at her best, but Garble wouldn’t. If-no-when she won, her victory would be sullied! She turned to Garble. It was better to retreat for now. “We’ll settle this tomorrow! Be ready!” With her threat issued, she ran off into the distance, followed by her mother.

“What am I going to do with that girl?” She murmured to herself.

Garble let out a sigh, suddenly becoming drained. “Dad, why are girls crazy?”

“She not crazy, Garble, just enthusiastic. She thinks that you’re a dragon worth defeating, and she wants to do it when you’re at your best. Honestly, you should take it as a compliment, a sign of respect.”

Garble rolled his eyes, and felt his arm nudged.

“Can we still play?” Spike asked.

“Yeah,” Garble hopped to his feet, and got ready. The children played until the sun was starting to set, and Spike and Smolder could hardly keep their eyes open. As Garble helped them onto their father’s back, he caught one last, small glimpse of Ember, her glare still as intense as always. A month, this little spat between them was going to last a month at most. It had to.

A year passed, and Ember was still a constant presence in Garble’s life. She was relentless in her single-minded pursuit of victory, so much so, that their days had become formulaic.

“I’m not going easy on you this time!” Ember would shout as she took a fighting stance. However, be it a few seconds or several hours, Ember was overtaken and pinned or nipped. She would monologue about how this victory meant nothing, and that soon, she would defeat Garble, and claim the mantle of strongest dragon, and become Dragon Lord, before running off to fume. Torch never batted an eye when Ember recounted her fights to him. He only encouraged her as best he could, and for his efforts received smiles and nuzzles from his happy daughter.

As their fights went on, Garble learned more about Ember, mainly that she was not the helpless girl he stood-up for that day in the quarry. Ember was quick and fierce like a savage beast out of the woods, but so devious and cunning that she could have been mistaken for a pony. Her favored approach to opening their fights was a sneak attack. Sometimes she’d attack him without warning, other times she purposely threw something to make noise, drawing Garble’s attention to one area, and then jump out of her hiding space, and unleashing a barrage of strikes. Yet even this he learned to counter. While he couldn’t see or hear her, he could still use his nose. Dragons had a keen sense of smell, seldom used, but still a tool in their belt. Though it sounded strange, Ember smelled pleasant.

He didn’t notice it at first, but after fighting with her nearly every day for months, he began to take note of her scent. Most dragons smelled of sulfur and ash, but Ember shockingly smelled of flowers and wild berries. Though he didn’t know it, it was because her mother took her to a special hot spring away from the crags and cliffs of their lands, to bathe and spend time with one another talking. It was one of the few times Ember laughed, smiled, and talked calmly with her mother. Ember especially had fun splashing in the water, which was littered with berries and flower petals. Bushes grew around the pools of water, and occasionally a few would fall in. Thanks to that scent, Garble knew whenever Ember was coming. He would simply sniff the air, find her general direction, and brace himself.

The little princess was not happy when Garble began to thwart her sneak attacks, nor when he adapted to her more underhanded tactics. Barring weapons, she used everything she could to get an advantage; dust to blind him, round marbles to trip him, one time she even used oil on herself to make her harder to grab, a tactic that she still regretted using. Ember would even try to lead him into hazards, bait him into punching a wall, have him trip in a pothole, anything.

Garble knew in his heart that had she been just a bit stronger, he would have lost a long time ago. He very nearly lost a fight thanks to his carelessness. He twisted his ankle after falling into a trap and was barely able to put pressure on it. Ember didn’t take note, she was too focused on defeating him. It was only thanks to the timely arrival of Spike that the match ended in a draw. Thanks to the injury, Garble had to wait to recover before going outside, and Ember had to issue an apology, which was very sincere. He made sure to know where he was stepping after that.

It was like were doing a repetitive dance. Ember would come up with a new strategy, and Garble would brute force his way through it before adapting. She would grow stronger, but so did he. The endless cycle infuriated Ember to no end. What irritated her most was that Garble was starting to use underhanded tactics of his own.

The other day, after she had finally pinned him on his back, and was about to win their fight, he blew a steady stream of fire scarcely hotter than a candle and hit her neck, purely out of desperation. To any other creature, such a blow would have been fatal, but for dragons, fire breath tickled at worst, and Garble? He’d managed to hit one of Ember’s worse spots. The fire gently brushed across her scales and Ember jerked away, falling onto the floor, hysterically laughing.

Garble capitalized on her weakened state and swiftly defeated her. He took note of the weakness and used the cruel tactic when things got hairy for him. Worse, some of the older dragons would coo about how cute her laughter was, something that Ember took as an insult because she. Was. Not. Cute. When she complained to her father about it, he asked, ‘You mean, you don’t like it when someone does this?’ before blowing a tongue of fire along her stomach. The whisps of flame gently tickled her, sending her once again into hysterics for a good minute, despite her pleads for her father to stop. She was still giving him the silent treatment.

The only constant variable was Garble’s very small, irritating little brother, who intervened at critical points in their fights. He would sometimes jump on her back and nip her, tug her tail as she was rushing, or just bend down behind her as she was moving backwards, tripping her.

“This is between me and him!” She would warn after restraining Spike. The max she could do to him without incurring her mother’s wrath was restrain him. Easily done considering their size difference. “You’re starting to get annoying!”

“Well, you’re more annoying!” Spike would snap back.

“Shrimp!”

“Loudmouth!”

“Brat!” She would shout back.

“Cheater!” He would call her.

“Boulderhead!”

“Boulderer-head!”

“That’s not a word!”

“You’re not a word!”

They would continue insulting each other until Garble got tired of the bickering, took Spike, and delivered him to his caretaker for the day.

“Just let me fight her with you!” Spike would often complain. To Spike, Garble was one of, if not the greatest dragon in the world. When Ember hit him in that moment of weakness, it was too great a sin to be forgiven. He often tried to get Smolder involved, but she always said no. She couldn’t care about Ember, her ‘slight’ against Garble, nor Spike’s irrational distain towards her. She had her own problems to handle.

“Dragons don’t team up to fight, Spike.”

“You don’t say that when Smolder and I gang up on you. It’s really easy to win fights when we work together!”

“That’s different, Spike.” Garble explained, knowing deep in his heart that Spike had a point and he was being hypocritical. “You’re fighting me when you do that. It doesn’t make it unfair; it just levels the playing field.”

Spike’s face scrunched up into a pout. “You always say that you’re holding back when we do that. You could at least stop holding back when you fight her. You don’t even throw a punch!” That earned him a very soft bop on the head. “You don’t!” Spike said, rubbing his crown.

“Just shut it, Spike,” Garble would growl. If Spike was going to complain about Garble holding back, then he should at least demand that Ember stop holding back every time he joined the fray. He loved his brother dearly, but he needed to stop involving himself in their scuffles.

As bad as it might have seemed, Garble did enjoy their company. However, there was one dragon that he dreaded seeing on even the best of days: Scales Sunwing. He never hit a girl before, but she was starting to make him reconsider. Her voice was so grating that it left permanent, earsplitting echoes in his mind.

“Garble, do you really think that Scales Ironscale sounds good?” She would say in a sickeningly sweet voice. “We should change it to Ironhide. Scales Ironhide sounds a lot prettier.”

“Garble, how many eggs do you want? You should want two.”

“Garble, how big of a hoard do you think we’ll have? Whatever you think it is, double it.”

“Garble, who do you think is pretty?” She’d asked, expecting him to answer with her name. “Don’t answer,” She would say after about five minutes of silence. “I know it’s me.”

“Garble. Garble. Garble.”

Some small part of Garble might have thought she liked him, that she wanted to know about their future together, but a few questions tipped him off to her true intensions.

“Do you want to start courting before or after you become Dragon Lord?”

“How are you going to rule when you become Dragon Lord?”

“What do you think a Lord Consort should wear? I think platinum and rubies. You’ll have plenty of those when you’re Dragon Lord, right?”

If it wasn’t about their future, it was about the title of Dragon Lord. She was more interested in it than anything or anyone else. Was that why she tolerated him and his complete indifference towards her? Every snide remark, every time he let her fall, or refused to help her up, did she willfully and foolishly justify it to herself just because she was desperate to be Lord Consort and thought that he’d be the one to claim the mantle? He couldn’t help but wonder where she’d be if he lost to Arrow all those days ago. Would she even care about him, would Ember? Would she even still be interested in a few years?

It wasn’t as if the future was set in stone. What if he died during his molt? What if someone came along and beat him, be it in a game or in the Gauntlet? What if he became disinterested in the title all together and passed is birthright on to Smolder or Spike? What would she do then? She’d move on, and forget he even existed. His friends all thought that he was a likely candidate to become Dragon Lord, so did he, but that was in the now. It earned him respect, but it also put target on his back. All of them were just waiting for their moment to take him down, and prove their strength. He knew that any of them could do it given enough hard work.

According to his father, Torch himself was once a pudgy whelp, scared of his own shadow. No one thought that he could even hope to become Dragon Lord, let alone a strong dragon. Then he went ahead and shocked everyone when he won the Gauntlet with little effort years later after losing most of his weight in fat, and gaining nearly all of it back in muscle. Embarrassingly for all involved, Torch didn’t even realize that he was participating until after he won. (His father came in third, behind Kalamet Steelspine, but ahead of Stratus Sunwing.)

It wasn’t as if Scales seemed to enjoy talking to him either. Everything about her seemed forced. She struggled to keep her smile up, her body seemed to contort and tense when she wrapped her arms around him when she managed to get a hold of him, and her voice would sometimes become stiff and robotic, like she memorized everything she had to say the day prior. The only real part about her were her eyes. Her eyes gave him just a glimpse behind her façade, but only a glimpse. She wasn’t happy, but that was the most he could discern.

There was another question that was gnawing at him. What was keeping her from trying to take the title? She had to have yearned for the mantle like everyone else, but she seemed content to latch onto whomever won. Perhaps it was her strength, or lack thereof. She was too weak to get it, and so she decided to settle.

If that was the case, that attitude irked Garble, burning him to his core. Scales wasn’t just weak; she was weak willed. As his grandfather Furnace put it, Dragons were made to rise above themselves. If there was a challenge, a dragon would work until it was overcome, through brawn, brains, or sheer force of will. It was a concept so simple that even Spike understood it. It was what he practiced every time he, with or without Smolder, challenged Garble to a fight. It was what Ember did every day in fighting him. Yet, Scales spat in the face of such a philosophy. It wasn’t even that she couldn’t improve, she was a dragon. She just didn’t want to.

If that wasn’t enough to put him off, she was of the belief that truly insulting him would win her his favor. Ember habitually called him a boulderhead, which was irritating, but she called everyone that, especially when things didn’t go her way in a fight. Perhaps it was a metaphor, or a double entendre like with his poems. Boulderhead could mean less of an insult, more of a way of saying ‘I’m frustrated’. But Scales? Scales’ insults didn’t have a deeper meaning. She meant what she said.

“When I become Lord Consort, I think you should get my input when making decisions.” She would say.

“Why?”

“I think I could help you!”

“I mean why do you think I need you or your help?”

“Well, I’m smart, but I’m not that strong. You’re the strongest, but you’re a moron!” She said in an innocent little voice. “You’re just going to need help when you become Dragon Lord. That’s where I come in. We’ll be the greatest rulers ever. I can make the hard decisions; you can enforce them!”

He was wrong, there was a deeper meaning. She really meant, 'You're too stupid to be the Dragon Lord, so give it to me instead!' He was used to his intelligence being insulted, but he never let it get to him… not much anyway. He knew he was smarter than the average dragon, especially a manipulative twat like Scales. Yet, even knowing what she thought of him, he refused to strike her, but this may be because Ember did it for him. Scales would get possessive most days, but the moment that she got in the way of Ember’s mission, Ember would retaliate.

“You’re in my way,” Ember would warn, giving the whelp a chance to run. Scales would normally except the challenge, perhaps thinking that Garble would intervein on her behalf. He never did, mostly because he loved it when Ember took Scales down a peg or three. Her every movement was fluid, graceful even, akin to a performance in Smolder’s Princess books. When Scales tried fighting back, Ember would hit harder and faster, which was always fun to watch. Nowadays, all it took was Ember giving Scales a look before the girl bitterly slinked away without a word. Scales’ façade usually slipped for a few moments and he would see the despondent rage mounting. Ember never really cared for her fights with Scales, in fact they were all meaningless to her. He was the target.

He admired that tenacity; truly, he did. Ember was small, she had below average strength, but she would sooner die than give up. Unlike Scales, Ember was undeniably a dragon in every sense of the word. Though he would never admit it aloud, a small part of him enjoyed their rivalry. She kept him on his toes, forced him to improve, and in turn, she was given a training partner. It was a relationship that he wouldn’t trade for all the gold in the land. How unfortunate it was that the very foundation of their rivalry was about to change the very next day.

Author's Note

Special thanks to Little_Draco for use of the name Stratus.

Chapter 14: You Are Strong

There was no game more popular with whelps and teenagers than King of the Hoard. It was a simple game; the last dragon left standing on top of a pile of gems was the winner. No one had good footing, and dragons were more likely to slip off the pile than someone was to push them off, but that just added to the fun by forcing dragons to relay on their luck.

Garble had won today’s game, being punched in the face only once, and promptly winning when that dragon slipped and tumbled off the hoard. By all accounts Garble should have tumbled off first, but his luck had been strong today and he stepped onto a solid patch of gems, while his opponent stepped onto a loose section. The bounty he received was beyond incredible. Before him was a pile of sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds of all sorts.

Giggling like a filly, Garble secluded himself from his friends, and happily munched on his snacks. Suddenly, his nose twitched as a familiar scent wafted past him, forcing his spines to stand on end. ‘Berries,’ he thought in alarm. He quickly leapt to the side, evading a tackle from his rival, Ember Brightcrest.

Missing her target, Ember slid across the ground before coming to a halt. She turned towards him, looking as if she was out for blood. “How do you always know when I’m coming?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

‘Because you smell nice,’ he immediately thought to himself. He would never say that aloud, so instead he smirked as he examined his claws for imperfections. “I thought you were smart; shouldn’t you be able to figure it out?”

Ember growled. She despised it when anyone, Garble especially, questioned her intelligence, yet it was only the second most insulting thing he’d done. “You’re bruised,” she said, taking note of his black eye. “You fought someone before you fought me! You know I can’t fight you after you already fought!”

Garble felt as if he was being scolded by his mother, only this elicited more irritation than fear. “It was king of the hoard; do you know the gems you get?” He held up a fire ruby, and Ember’s eyes went wide. She hated the concept of King of the Hoard, but she couldn’t deny that the gems won were amazing. “And I’m not someone you can just boss around either! I can fight whoever I want, whenever I want.”

Her expression shifted in an instant. Steam came out of the top of her head and she bared her gritted fangs. “But I’m your rival!” Ember shouted. “You’re supposed to fight me first!”

“We can fight now.”

“No, we can’t, because you look tired!” It wasn’t untrue. Garble was a little tired, hungry too, but after a short snack and rest, he’d be okay. “If I beat you now, then I haven’t beaten you at your best, and everyone will just make excuses for you or-or call it a fluke!” Ember’s gaze intensified as she pulled him close, their foreheads touching. “Do you want dragons degrading my accomplishments because you couldn’t wait to play a stupid game?”

Garble rolled his eyes. He always struggled to understand the logic behind Ember’s ‘at his best’ obsession. He’d talked to his father about it, only for him to say, “It’s a sign of respect, Garble. Ember is someone that wants to prove herself, and she wants to do so by beating the strongest dragon she can. She likely thinks that beating you in a weakened state would be cowardly, so she wants to do it when you’re at your best.”

“We’ll fight tomorrow. It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Garble said.

“You’re so useless!” Ember groaned, giving him a shove. Her eyes took a quick glance down at his pile and saw a tantalizing blue diamond begging for someone to eat it. For a moment, her anger faded, replaced with a wanting. In her mind, she could already taste the gem. Her eyes became fixated on it, she licked her lips as her mouth began to water, and her stomach rumbled loud enough for Garble to hear. Her rival’s face fell flat and he raised a brow. Ember’s cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, and there was a short silence between the two as her orange eyes flicked between him and the gem.

Had it been any other dragon, Garble would have told her to shove off. However, Ember was not most dragons. If anything, she was akin Smolder and Spike, annoying at times, but well meaning. “Just take it,” he said with an uninterested wave, picking up a rose quartz.

“I will, but not because you told me to. It’s restitution!” She loudly said, snatching the gem from his pile before darting away. “Stupid Garble, why does he have to be a lousy rival?” She grumbled as she ate. ‘Now what am I supposed to do?’ She took a seat away from other whelps. Her father was away for a few days, and she wanted to surprise him when he returned by declaring her victory over Garble, earning his praise and admiration. There was still time, she just wanted to get it done sooner rather than later. As she enjoyed her diamond, her spines began to raise as a dark presence seemed to form behind her.

“Not fighting Garble today?” A sweet yet sinister voice asked. A pink dragon practically coiled around Ember, grinning. “Don’t tell me the princess got scared.”

‘Scales,’ Ember thought to herself, feeling a sudden flash of anger. “Please, if anything he was scared of me,” She said, holding up the half-eaten blue diamond. “That boulder-head had to bribe me to spare him.”

“Sure he did, sure he did.” Scales forced a smile. She dreamt of a drake, Garble especially, giving her a diamond, yet all she ever got was the cold shoulder. Ember could act like a brat for a year, and for some reason, he gives her a rare blue diamond. Her body began to shake with anger. “That’s so sweet of him, isn’t it? I wish a drake would give me something like that.”

“He didn’t give this to me, he paid me off! I basically took it from him!”

Scales believed that as much as she believed that Ember and Garble were actual rivals. “Then why are you sulking? Is it because you didn’t get your free hit on Garble?”

“Free hit? Free hit!?” Ember stood, and tried to look intimidating. “I don’t get free hits!”

Scales seemed unfazed at the display. “Don’t you? You always brag about fighting him, but it’s not like he hits you. If anything, he hugs you!” She leered at Ember. “Is that why you like fighting him so much, or is it because he goes easy on you?”

Ember was appalled by what Scales was suggesting. “You better shut it!”

“Why? He never throws a punch, you never get hurt, and you go back for more every day! I don’t know what else to call it. I doubt that you could actually fight anyone else.”

Ember knew she shouldn’t be listening to Scales. She knew that Scales was just trying to get under her skin; any moron could see that this was just bait set under a dangling boulder. However, Ember also knew that Scales was underestimating her. “Pick a dragon and they’re going down,” She said.

Scales bit her lower lip to keep herself from smiling. Ember was brilliant, even she could admit that, but she lacked the emotional lid that Scales had. He few pokes and she was putty in her hands. Sure, Scales seethed with anger every moment Ember spent with Garble, but she just healthily bottled that rage up, waiting for the perfect moment to inflict a year’s worth of pain on the little princess. That moment was finally here. “Hmm, how about… I don’t know, totally random thought,” She turned her body away from Ember, grinned, and said, “but why not Arrow Firefang?” Forcing down her smile, she turned back towards Ember.

Ember’s confidence faltered for a single moment, but it was long enough for Scales to see through her tough façade.

“Oh, you don’t think he’s too big, do you? Maybe I should pick someone else? I don’t want you to get hurt. You seem so fragile, who knows the damage he’d do.”

Ember steeled herself. “After I beat him, you’re next.”

“If he gives you any trouble just make fun of his voice.” Her lips curled up into a grin. “He always fights dragons that do that.”

Ember rolled her eyes and marched towards Arrow. It was easy picking him out of the crowd. Despite all the growing that the whelps had done over the year, Arrow Firefang was still the biggest whelp around. He was digging a small hole, finding a few gems, and putting them to the side. Not anything noteworthy, mostly emeralds, opals, and quartzes.

Ember was about a yard away from Arrow, but even that felt too close. She shook the fear out of her, reminding herself that she was strong and could take him on easily. Ember took a deep breath, calmed her nerves, straightened her back, and said, “Arrow, I challenge you to a fight!”

Arrow paused, turned his head, and gave her a quick glance. Ember felt her heart rate quicken and her body tense before taking a fighting stance, only to watch as Arrow returned to his digging. She waited for a minute or two before growing both impatient, and offended. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” She shouted. Silence. She was starting to understand why Scales was grumpy all the time. “I said I want to fight!”

“Beat it,” Arrow finally said, keeping his focus on his work. “I’m not interested in fighting a twig.”

‘Twig!?’ Ember fumed but collected herself not a moment after. As much as it galled her to admit, Scales had given her some good advice, even if it meant getting punched. Ember forced a chuckle, and immediately, Arrow turned his head. It was a warning, meaning that she touched a nerve. “Sorry,” she said, smirking. “Garble said that your voice was high, but I didn’t expect his sister’s voice to be deeper than yours. You make her sound like my dad!” She smiled upon seeing the murder in his eyes.

Arrow stood, looming above Ember. “You want to rephrase that?”

“Yeah,” Ember said, “Your voice actually got higher this year.” She knew she was treading dangerous waters.

“It’s your funeral.” Arrow’s fist collided with her before she had time to ready herself. Ember was sprawled out on her back, while Arrow turned his back to her. “Stay down,” he demanded.

Ember was dazed, not surprising, but she knew she wouldn’t be if Garble had ever bothered to hit her during their fights. She stood back up, and called after him. “That it? Garble’s brother hits harder than that.”

She had to be a glutton for punishment. Arrow turned towards her, and promptly received a punch himself. It sent him stumbling to the side, before the follow up sent him careening back. Part of him could hardly believe it, but Ember’s strikes hurt. A third punch sent him to the ground. Ember tried to jump on him, only for Arrow to recover, roll to the side, and hit Ember with his tail.

Soon, whelps began to take notice of the fight. There were murmurs about who was brave enough, or more accurately, dumb enough to fight Arrow, they were shocked to see Ember.

“Is she insane?” A few whelps asked.

“Obviously. She fights Garble daily.”

“Yeah, but he’s Garble! We all fight Garble! That’s Arrow!”

“She seems to be doing okay.”

The crowd watched as Arrow tried in vain to strike at Ember, only for her to side step his strikes with easy. Ember didn’t stay in one place for over a moment. She slid, twirled, and jumped about the field. If there was one thing fighting Garble had taught her, with his constant grabs and bearhugs, it was how to avoid a bigger whelp. She’d hit Arrow already with two fistfuls of dirt, blinding him before her strikes. He quickly wised up to the trick. Now, any attempt to blind him was met with a dust cloud of his own.

“He has to be going easy on her.” Ember heard whispered. She scowled and her fists tightened, drawing just the smallest bit of blood. She’d show them. Her pace increased, and she hit Arrow with blow after blow, instantly putting him on the defensive.

The watching whelps chatter began to change. “She’s winning.”

“But she’s small!”

“Maybe she has superstrength?”

“Superstrength isn’t a thing! Besides, why would she get superstrength?”

“I want superstrength!”

“If she beats him up, is she gonna beat up Garble next?”

“Is Arrow even that strong if he’s losing to her?”

The fifth strike, along with the constant chatter, sent alarm bells rigging in Arrow’s head. The crowd was right, he was losing; and not just to anyone, but to Ember, the smallest dragon in the land. Even worse, he’d barely touched her. She didn’t hit that hard, it was just she swift enough to strike him several times before he could hit her once, and thanks to her agility, she was able to dodge much easier than he could.

Ember sent a hard punch across his face, before pausing to catch her breath for a moment. Arrow to the opening to backhand her with a clenched fist, allowing him a moment of reprieve before Ember came back swinging twice as hard, leaving him dazed after every hit. Arrow refused to believe this was real. He was the biggest, he was one on the strongest, he couldn’t lose to an ant. Letting out a roar, he began flailing, desperate just to get in a good, solid hit. However, Ember seemed to dance out of the way.

Scales wasn’t handling the development any better. Ember was supposed to be on the ground beaten to a pulp, not impressing everyone. Fear gripped her heart as the fight went on. What if Garble fought with her because she was strong? If Garble admired Ember’s raw strength, then what chance did she have with him? Then a chill slowly crept up her spine. She recalled what Ember had said to her, before challenging Arrow. Scales didn’t stick around to see who won.

Then there were the onlookers from afar, specifically Spike and Smolder. Smolder was impressed with Ember but Spike was grumpy, and not because Smolder won their game and his gem. No, he was grumpy because Ember was doing so well. He wasn’t supremely shocked by it, though, his opinion on the matter was a mixture of naïve and delusional. In his opinion, the only reason Ember was winning was because she’d been training with Garble for nearly a year. Now, she either was going to make it seem like beating Arrow wasn’t that big of a deal, or Everyone was going to be praising her for her strength, when the only reason she was strong was because of Garble. He only wished that the other dragons gave credit where it was due.

His little face scrunched up as Ember circumvented Arrow’s punches, but noticed where she was about to step. He suddenly became uninterested in the fight, and yawned. “She’s gonna lose.”

Ember evaded a slam, before twirling to her right, avoiding a powerful punch. She readied herself, knowing that the next punch he threw would provide her an opening to get in a few hits, and maybe have him surrender. Arrow was enraged, but he was also breathing heavily, looked fatigued. Ember had a clear advantage, with her calm and collectiveness, tempered by her determination to prove everyone wrong about her weakness, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t breaking a sweat.

It was essentially a battle of endurance at this point. The first one tire would lose. Every punch thrown and every hit taken would was going to count. Ember stepped anticipating a right hook, and felt herself stumble. Her foot entered the small hole that Arrow had dug, and she let out a yelp before catching herself.

Arrow seized the moment, and with all his might, slammed his body into her. There was a sharp cry that echoed through the field, catching the attention of Garble, who was napping curled around his gems. The yelp sounded enough like his sister to stir him quickly. In panic, her scampered towards the source, pushing through the crowd, only to see Ember kicked in the stomach by Arrow Firefang. His rival collapsed on the ground, gasping for air, before having a coughing fit when she was able to take a breath.

“Just stay down!” Arrow screeched, likely burst a few eardrums.

Garble watched as she tried to stand up and take a step forward, only to collapse on her right leg. Near her ankle there was some swelling, perhaps a sprain like he’d received not too long ago. Arrow was bruised and heaving, glaring at Ember. He grabbed Fume who quickly filled him in.

“She’s insane!” he said, “She actually challenged Arrow to a fight!”

Garble had beaten Arrow himself, and not even he wasn’t foolish enough to challenge Arrow directly, yet Ember was brave enough to seek him out. At the very least Garble could respect Ember’s guts.

“But that’s not it,” Fume continued, “it looked like she was winning!”

There was nothing too shocking about that, not to Garble anyway. He had to take some credit for that. Afterall, it was probably because he was such an amazing training partner that she was able to hold her own so well. Maybe it was his swelled head, or the mountain sized ego that was in desperate need of downsizing, but for the first time, Garble was honored to have Ember as his rival.

Arrow, however was breathing heavily, angrily, as the chatter of the crowd grated on his nerves.

“She almost won.”

“Probably just a fluke,” another whelp said.

“She’s stronger than she looks.”

“Either that or Arrow isn’t as strong as he looks.”

“I don’t know, I would rather fight Ember than Arrow.”

“Garble I could understand, but Ember?”

“Maybe he was having an off day.”

“Or he’s just weak. Garble doesn’t seem to have trouble with her.”

They were mocking him. Garble’s victory over him had damaged his rep, but that was just the second-best dragon overtaking the first. No one could say anything because none of them had a hope to beat Garble, but Ember? No one thought that they could lose to her. So, what did it mean if he was losing to Ember of all dragons? It meant that he was weak. All because a runt like Ember got the better of him for a moment. Another runt got the better of him. Another runt nearly beat him. Wrose, she wasn’t just a runt; Ember was the runt. He watched as Ember struggled to stand before his fists tightened. What if she could still fight? What if she got up and won? “I said stay down!” He demanded. He delivered another kick to Ember, knocking her on her side.

Garble’s prideful smile fell and his head tilted in confusion. Why did Arrow hit her again? Ember couldn’t continue; the fight was over. He watched as Ember tried getting up again, only for Arrow to strike her once more. It was enigma. What was the point of a fight if the other dragon couldn’t fight back? It wasn’t a contest of strength and skill; it wasn’t even a hard lesson that fights were sometimes one sided or that some dragons were just stronger, it was just cruel punishment. Garble felt, for the first time in his young life, disgust.

Ember forced herself to stand, crying out in pain as her leg shook violently. She grabbed a hold of Arrow, and headbutted his snout. It barely phased him, and everyone knew it. Arrow returned better then he got. Ember fell to the ground holding her snout, softly whimpering, and Garble’s disgust towards him turned to anger. He watched as Ember tried to stand, or maybe crawl away, only for Arrow strike her again, and again, and again, collapsing the princess on her side as her body curled into a ball. Garble’s anger turned to a seething rage.

His vision red, Garble saw Arrow kick her once, and his fist tightened. He saw Arrow kick her a second time, and his legs began to move. Arrow went for a third strike, only to feel a claw on his shoulder. He pivoted and swung, only for Garble to catch him by his wrist.

The crowd began to clamor, wondering why Garble had entered the fray, while Ember looked up in disbelief.

‘No, not again,’ she thought to herself. She knew that Arrow had won the fight, that her trying to stand was pointless, however, she’d rather her beating continue than to have Garble step in. Not again, not when she was fighting for real. She managed to stand up, tried to move forward, and tear him off her opponent, but she collapsed on the first step. Her fists pounded against the ground in bought of frustration. Garble was her rival; he wasn’t supposed to help her. She didn’t want his help. She didn’t need his help. She didn’t need him making her look so weak.

Arrow’s eyes met Garble’s, and his instincts screamed for him to run. He quickly silenced them, his fear turning to rage. “Something you want to say?” Arrow’s question was met with silent glare. “What, you want to challenge me? Fine by me, I’ve been wanting to make up for that fluke a year ago.”

Garble’s eyes narrowed, he bared his fangs, and a low growl filling the air.

Arrow had never seen anyone make that face at him before. What did he do to tick him off so much? He glanced towards Ember and smirked. “Oh, are you upset I hurt your wittle girlfriend?” Silence. Arrow used his free hand to try and push Garble back, but the whelp didn’t budge. “Do something about it then! First punch is free!” He motioned for his opponent to hit him and watched as Garble clenched his fist. “Fair warning, the second you punch me, I’m beating the crap out of-”

Garble let loose a roar as he pulled Arrow forward, and slammed his fist into Arrow’s snout.

There came a loud crack, and the drake stumbled back, screaming in pain. His claws clenched his nose, covering it from view, but Garble and the crowd could see blood start to leak between his fingers. Arrow wailed as he rushed off to his mother, the crowd breaking into a commotion.

Garble knew that he shouldn’t take pride in drawing blood, not when they were so young, but he couldn’t help it. Something felt right about what he did. It was like fulfilling his purpose in life. The crowed caught a glimpse of his scowl, and thought best to disperse, but not before his friends congratulated him on his victory.

With everyone gone, Garble turned his attention to Ember. “How bad is it?” He asked. He couldn’t ask if she was alright, that would have an air of pity around it, and Ember didn’t do pity.

“It’s not,” she managed to say with a whimper.

Garble rolled his eyes, not that he had a leg to stand on. He’d been the same way when his ankle was sprained. He powered through it, but that only made things worse. Not wanting Ember to make the same mistake, he made the executive decision as Future Dragon Lord to treat Ember like he would Spike when he was too rowdy to go take a nap, and take her to her mother. He began to lift her on his back, despite her protests.

“Don’t touch me! Let go! Put me down right now!” She demanded as she struggled in his grip.

Garble looped his arms under her legs, keeping her supported. “Why don’t you try and make me?” Garble sneered, making sure she was secure in his grip. Ember didn’t hesitate to obey, even as he began making his way towards her mother. She tugged at his face, pounded his body with her fist and tail, but when she kicked him, she winched in pain before ceasing her struggles. “Are you done yet?”

“No! I hate this,” she said with a whimper. “I hate you!”

“If you want me to let you crawl to your mom, just say the word,” Garble said, clearly irritated with her attitude. Yet, he still slightly adjusting Ember’s position, making sure she was still secure. He’d given so many piggyback rides to Smolder and Spike, that he was practically a master. No doubt his siblings were watching him, and becoming increasingly jealous of Ember.

“I’d rather crawl to my mom then be carried!” Ember quickly said.

Garble grumbled to himself as Ember repeated her statement continuously. He should have known she’d call his bluff, the fact that he didn’t made him consider that the insults slung at him for being a bit dim had some truth to them.

“I said I’d rather crawl!” Ember said for a final time.

“Too bad,” he said in response. He was being a hypocrite, but he didn’t care one bit. “You’re hurt, so I’m carrying you to your mom.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten in my way. I was finally fighting!”

Garble was starting to get annoyed with her now. He understood the tantrum to a point, she lost, even he got huffy when he lost, but he couldn’t grasp why she hated him so much. “Fighting. You mean getting the snot beat out of you while you struggle to stand up? And everyone calls me dumb,” he muttered.

“You don’t get it. They thought I was strong! Then you had to step in.” Garble felt her claws grip his hide, as if they were trying to pierce his scales. “They’re going to say I’m a wimp now. That I’m too small and weak to do anything by myself. They’ll only see some fragile little princess that needs someone to protect her!” She wanted to scream at him for also proving her father right.

She could already see her father going ballistic once he returned to the cave and saw her. When he heard about what Garble had done, instead of just watching, she knew he’d order him to act as her personal bodyguard. The thought sickened her to her core. It wasn’t just because Torch would always have a pair of eyes on her, but also, once Garble knew who she was, she’d never be able to fight him again. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”

Garble rolled his eyes. Part of him understood her aversion to help. Dragons were supposed to do things themselves; they were supposed to exsert effort and fight for what they wanted, be it food, shelter, respect, or strength. But it’s not like any of them were truly self-reliant. He was cared for by his parents. So long as they were there, he was fed. Maybe he wouldn’t get snacks if he didn’t fight, but he didn’t have to worry about surviving, not yet anyway. Then there were the rumors and whispers she was worried about. He could emphasize, but sadly, Garble was not one for tact when it came to dragons other than Spike and Smolder. He might go a bit easy on Ember in a fight, but this was not a fight.

“Oh, boo-hoo, someone might call you weak. Cry me a river,” He said, almost disinterested in her worries. He received a hard punch to the back of the head.

“Jerk.”

Garble grumbled to himself and chalked it up to a bonk he would give Spike or Smolder if they got too fussy. “Why do you even care if they think that, anyway? They’re stupid if they do.”

“How are they stupid?! They just watched me get my hide handed to me!”

“Because you’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest dragons I know.”

It took a moment for Ember to register what he said. Once she did, her anger seemed to vanish, and all that was left was confusion. “What?” Was all she managed to say, in a very soft, squeaky voice.

“You’re strong,” Garble said nonchalantly. He didn’t think he was saying anything special, nor meaningful. It was like saying that the sky was blue or that lava was hot; It was a fact of the world. “Maybe not strong-strong, but you don’t run from a challenge, you refuse to give up, and you can hold your own in a fight, even though you’re small.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re a real dragon.”

Those words echoed in her mind for what felt like an eternity before Ember was able to accept them. The moment she did, Ember felt a dagger thrust into her tiny heart. The world became blurry, she let out soft whimpers and clenched her fist into balls. Her eyes clenched shut, and she buried her face into the back of Garble’s neck. Sniffles that only Garble could hear echoed, and bit by bit tears began to fall from her face.

He could hear her desperately trying to hold back her tears, but it had already started. She probably wanted everyone to think like he did, but now, in her mind at least, no one would, and it was all thanks to him. Garble never hit her, never hurt her, but hearing her cry made him feel like he had. Maybe Bahamut made it so there was something inherently wrong about a dragoness crying.

“Hey-”

“I-I’m fine,” she grumbled, not wanting talk. “Just get me to my mom.”

Garble didn’t argue with her. He soon came before the blue dragoness, who took Ember in her claws. “Thank you, Garble,” she said before spreading her wings and flying towards the nearest Shaman’s cave. She didn’t say anything to her daughter. If Ember was struggling not to cry, she could hold any criticisms until after she recovered.

Seeing them vanish into the horizon, Garble returned to his father, only to be swarmed by his siblings.

“You gave Ember a piggyback ride!?” Smolder said, as if accusing Garble of a war-crime. Garble gave some of the best piggyback rides in the land. Her and Spike often argued who’d be the first to get a ride and today was no different.

“Can I have one?” Spike asked, putting on his sweetest face.

“I want it first! I’m older than you, and I’ve won a fight! I deserve it more!”

“Mama says I’m too small to fight the other dragons. I bet I’ll beat up more my first day than you did your first week! I should get it first!”

“Why don’t you two just race for it?” Garble suggested. So they did, and Spike seemed to want it just a hair more. It was one of the best piggyback rides ever.

Today was shaping up to be a memorable, if not the worst day of her life. Topaz endured the shrieks of a livid mother as Gemstone tended to the injured child. Her softness with whelps had a time to shine as she tended to Arrow, comforting him as he wept. The worse part? It had been her great-grandson that injured him. Garble had struck the boy so hard his nose snapped like a twig. To say that this was taboo would be an understatement.

“There, all better,” Topaz said, as Gemstone finished resetting Arrow’s nose, wrapping it in a cast. “Leave the splint on the snout for a week, it should heal in a month or two. Until then, training only, no fighting.”

“I would say thank you,” Bow Firefang said with a growl, “but the little devil that did this to my whelp is related to you, no?”

“My great-grandson,” Topaz clarified. She was too old to try and make excuses for Garble’s actions, odd as they may have been. She had a job to do, even if the whelp’s mother was understandably rude. “Hence, why I am here, with my apprentice; my best apprentice, I might add. I apologize for Garble’s behavior, but perhaps it would be better to take it up with his parents.” Topaz could already hear the screaming. Whelps fighting one another was normal, but drawing blood? Amber and Flare were likely to give the Firefangs some form of compensation for this, a large one at that, and Garble a harsh punishment. He’d be lucky to play with his friends or his siblings in a year.

There came another rumble in the cave as Blaze entered, holding Ember in her hands. Topaz had known Torch since he was a whelp. She personally tended to him many, many, many times, and had gotten to know him over the decades. She knew that he was going to murder the dragon that caused this despicable amount of bruising on his beloved daughter. She felt sorry for that poor soul.

“Gemstone, we have another one,” Topaz said as she motioned for Blaze to set Ember on a stone slab next to Arrow’s. The two whelps gave each other a vindictive glare, though their tears made it difficult for the other to take it seriously.

“Poor thing,” Bow cooed, upon getting a good look at Ember. “Did Garble hurt her as well, Blaze? I swear that little brute needs to be taught a lesson.” She was shocked to receive a glare from Blaze.

“Bow, I don’t know what you think happened today, but Garbuncle Ironscale never lays a hand on my daughter. In fact, today Garble helped her when she was hurt.” That earned her a raised eyebrow. She continued. “I make it my job to watch my daughter when she fights, as ill-advised as that may be at times. Today, I watched as your son felt the need to beat on my daughter after she’d sprained her ankle and couldn’t stand. I think it was the seventh or eighth hit when Garble intervened and broke your son’s nose. So, you tell me which was the brute: the one striking my daughter or the one defending her.

The revelation caused a bottomless pit to form in Bow’s stomach. She was shocked at first, but then she felt her mouth dry, before a fire ignited and she turned a furious gaze on her son. “You. Struck. Ember. Brightcrest?”

Arrow shrunk. He’d seen the look his mother had given him before, it was usually the look he got when he took a gem without asking, or played with a knife form his parents’ hoard. It was a look that said, ‘Your father is going to hear about this.’ “She attacked me first!” He said.

“I don’t care if she stole your entire hoard! Fighting her of all dragons, do you have a death wish!?” Had it been any other dragon, a quick scolding was all that would have occurred. Afterall, if Arrow went a little far in a fit of frenzy, but his opponent was alive with no permanent damage, and no broken bones, what actual wrong was committed? It was a fight, and in a fight, whelps got hurt. Unfortunately, he fought Ember Brightcrest, and that was the one dragon that was supposed to be off limits.

“Consider your broken snout punishment enough for doing something this foolish. We’ll talk further when we get back to our cave.” Bow paused, her eyes moving to Blaze. Her anger was quickly replaced with concern, a concern that Blaze understood perfectly. It was a concern that a mother held for her child. Yes, Arrow was out of line, but did he deserve what Torch would do to him if he found out? No matter what crime their children committed, a mother would always seek mercy for them. Bow found it difficult to speak to Blaze for a few moments. She managed to choke out a, “Is-” Before being interrupted.

“I’ll see to it that he never learns that Arrow was involved,” Blaze assured her.

Bow let out a held gasp of relief, quietly praising Bahamut. Thanking the Lord-Consort, she picked up her son, issued an apology for his actions, and left, with Arrow begging her not to tell his dad.

‘Good riddance’ Ember thought to herself. She sat still as Gemstone examined her sprain.

“Nothing too bad. You must have been very brave to challenge a whelp like him,” Gemstone said. “Did you get in a few good hits?”

Ember nodded. She did at first, but then she tripped, and then it was over. Ember played the fight back in her head. If she’d just had paid attention, she likely would have won. Garble would have never had to get involved, he’d never have carried her, and never would have said- Ember bit her lower lip as she recalled what he’d said.

‘You’re one of the strongest dragons I know.’

The memory forced a hiccup.

‘You’re a real dragon.’

She let out a whimper before the dam finally burst. Ember wailed as loud as she could, she fell on her side, curled into a ball, and heaved with every breath she took.

Gemstone stepped back for a moment, shocked by the sudden breakdown. She carefully rechecked Ember’s ankle. It was sprained, but it shouldn’t have been causing this kind of reaction. Perhaps she was a dramatic whelp? No, she’d dealt with dramatic whelps before. They were just in need of some affection when in pain and it quickly subsided with a coo or a nuzzle. This? It was as if Ember were being tortured, the kind of pain that Spike felt when his arms were cut. Ember’s arms were crossed across her chest, and her claws seemed to be digging into her shoulders.

“Poor thing,” Gemstone cooed. “Does it hurt that much?”

“No!” Ember managed to say through chocked sobs.

Not the answer she was expecting, not knowing what else to do, Gemstone bandaged the ankle, and the dragons let her cry. Blaze wanted to ask what was wrong, but she knew that the only answers she’d get would be indecipherable. Ember’s wails abated, becoming quiet sobs as she lay in a small puddle of her own tears. Blaze picked her daughter up and brought her close to her chest.

“Is this because Garble helped you? Ember there’s-”

“I-it wasn’t that,” She hiccupped. “I don’t know why I’m crying. Garble-he s-said tha-that I’m-I’m-” She began to cough as she tried to contain her emotions and speak clearly. She tried again, and failed.

“What did he say?” Topaz asked, wondering if she was going to have to have a long, serious talk with Garble.

“He-he said I’m strong,” Ember finally said. She gripped her mother’s chest. “He said that I’m a real dragon. Why is that making me cry?”

The reactions were varied. Topaz let out a relieved sigh, thankful Garble wasn’t dim enough to insult the girl. Gemstone tried to understand how a compliment caused a whelp to break, but found herself stumped. However, Blaze smiled, praising Bahamut. She could only imagine how it felt to hear someone, especially her rival of all dragons, say something to her she’d been so desperate to hear. Yes, she encouraged her often, but she was Ember’s mother. In Ember’s mind, it was her job to encourage her, she had no choice. Garble? Garble was a dragon that had no obligation to respect her. His thoughts were his own, and Ember knew that.

“It’s okay Ember, I understand. Let it out, let it out.” She looked towards Topaz. “I think we should go. I’ll be sure to compensate you tomorrow. Anything I should know about her injury?”

“Keep her off the leg for two weeks. No fighting during that time.” Topaz said.

“Understood. If you see your grandson, please tell him thank you.”

Before Ember knew it, she and her mother were back in their cave. Ember had calmed down considerably by that time, but her eyes were bloodshot, her nose stuffy, and her cheeks were stained with her tears.

“I’m sorry about you fight, Ember. You did well though. A bit needless, but you’ve grown so much the past year.”

“I wasn’t crying because I was hurt,” Ember assured, “I was crying because-because-Garble’s a moron.”

Blaze knew for a fact that her daughter didn’t mean that. She gave her a nudge, a comforting, encouraging nudge. “Ember, I know you weren’t crying because of that. You were happy.”

Ember gave her mother a confused look. “Why would I be crying if I’m h-happy?”

“Sometimes, when we want something more than anything in the world, and finally receive it, it can be a lot for us to handle emotionally. It can be so much that only thing we can do is cry. When you were hatched, and your father held you for the first time, he cried all day, proclaiming how beautiful and perfect you were, and how blessed he was to have you. Garble saying that you were strong, it must have felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.”

“But he doesn’t think I’m strong, strong,” Ember said, sounding a mix of bitter and annoyed. “He said that I was just capable.”

“So, it’s like what I’ve been saying all this time,” Blaze reminded her. “Strong can have many different meanings, Ember. Garble recognizes that. He sees that despite a lack of strength, you have other things about you that make you strong. He believes in you, like I do. That’s because he’s smart enough to see what makes you so amazing.”

“He’s smart?” Her face hardened. “He can’t be smart and strong, th-that’s greedy.”

“He’s smart like you’re strong,” Blaze explained. “He’s not strategic in his fighting, trust me, I’ve seen him fight. If it’s not you, his modus operandi is ‘punch it until my problem goes away’, but he’s still intelligent. He knows when a dragon has had enough, how hard to push a dragon, and smart enough to know a real dragon when he sees one. And from what I hear, he knows how to care for his siblings.”

That didn’t sound like Garble, at least not the Garble Ember had conjured up in her head. He was supposed to be evil, someone that would blow up half the known world before setting the other half on fire. No evil dragon would say that she was strong or a real dragon. Why did she need to fight a dragon like that? “Mom, I don’t want to have to fight Garble when he turns evil anymore,” Ember mumbled.

It took a few moments for Blaze to figure out what it was her daughter was talking about. She was serious about her little fantasy. Blaze giggled. “Well, thankfully you don’t have to. When you become Dragon Lord, you can make him see that joining you would be much better than fighting you. You could conscript him to assist you in more physical matters.”

“Like a-a knight?”

“Paladin,” Blaze corrected. “When a Dragon Lord has someone to fight on their behalf, they’re called Paladins. Knights are more an Equestrian solider.” In the Dragon Lands, a knight was typically someone that killed dragons for their hoards.

“Paladin,” Ember repeated, making sure she had the term right.

“Good. Ember, it’s best you understand that the Dragon Lord isn’t Bahamut, nor are they Sardior, they’re just dragons. Sometimes, they need help when their skills aren’t up to the task. Your father is strong, but lacks intelligence and wisdom, so he has advisors, like me, to help him when a complex issue arises. You are going to be a very wise, intelligent Dragon Lord, but there will be times where you need someone more physically inclined to help you. The way I look at it, Garble is a hammer in search of a nail. On his own, he might hit that nail, and it’ll be good, but he’s as likely to hit an egg instead, and that would be bad. If someone like you were to direct him though, he’d likely hit nothing but nails.”

That seemed like a good prospect, Ember certainly wouldn’t mind having someone she could order to beat someone up. “But what if he becomes Dragon Lord?” Ember asked.

“If that happens, Ember, he’s going to need someone to help him curb his enthusiasm. Your father went a bit mad with power when he first got the scepter, and being sensible, I reigned him in. So, if he becomes Dragon Lord, the first thing you do is give him a good bonk on the head to help him regain his senses. Second, you tell him you’re willing to assist him. Thirdly, tell him you’re assisting him whether he likes it or not. Finally, help him, because he’ll need help.”

Ember bit her lower lip. If Garble won, she’d be stuck helping him, yet that thought wasn’t nightmarish. In fact, she wouldn’t mind it if it happened. It wasn’t likely going to happen, but if it did, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. However, Ember knew she was going to become Dragon Lord, but now she knew that Garble would be her paladin.

Author's Note

I apologize for taking so long, I had trouble getting this chapter right for publication.

I can also imagine that some of you will be wondering who will become Dragon Lord in this story, and the answer is that I haven't exactly come to that decision yet. Honestly, part of me is worried about where the story takes me in that regard.

On a related note, would anyone reading be interested in editing/pre-reading this fic?

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys, and thank you all for your support on this story, you have no idea how much it makes this worth it.

Chapter 15: A Father's Duty

After three days away from his family, the Dragon Lord wanted nothing more than to spend an evening with his beautiful mate and his precious daughter. He had been looking forward to coming home to their smiling faces. But once he saw his daughter, with her little foot bandaged, he very nearly went on the warpath. Back when Torch had approved of his daughter’s rival, he’d done so under the assumption that the dragon she fought was a flake, a near nonentity. After all, what dragon didn’t hurt a rival? There were only two explanations he could think of. The first was that Ember may be stronger than she seemed, and had beaten the whelp without breaking a sweat. Frankly, in Torch’s humble opinion, there was a greater chance that a five-year-old would become the next Dragon Lord after he stepped down. Which had brought him to his second theory; the young whelp purposefully never hurt her.

So, in a bid to make his daughter happy, Torch had indulged her desire to fight. Now, his foolishness had once again resulted in Ember getting hurt. His little princess was bandaged, barely able to stand, and her body was bruised.

Blaze had told him what happened, in a calm manner, but left out one detail.

“Who hurt her?” Torch asked, trying to fight the growing urge to roar and shout. Blaze didn’t twitch, however. She kept a cool and collected air about her.

Torch looked down at his daughter. “Who hurt you?”

Ember looked away from him, biting her lower lip. Unbeknownst to Torch, Ember had promised to keep quiet about Arrow.

“Ember, I asked you a question. Who hurt you?” More silence. “Who did you fight?” Ember looked away from him. Torch slammed his fist on the ground, leaving a gaping crater in the cavern floor. Still Blaze was unfazed, but Ember hid behind her mother’s leg, trembling. “Who. Did. You. Fight?” His daughter let out a loose whimper, burying her face into her mother’s scales. “Was it that playmate of yours, did he do this?”

“No,” Blaze said calmly. “In fact, he helped her.”

“Blaze, who hurt her?”

Blaze began to ponder. “I didn’t get the name, or their face, or gender, or anything really. I have such a poor memory at times, Torch.”

His eyes narrowed. Blaze had a memory like a steel trap. She was just lying. “Do you recall her little playmate’s name?”

“He’s no one you need to worry about, Torch.”

The Dragon Lord let out a grunt as he turned and left the cave. He was not going to gain a single inch with either his mate or daughter. Fortunately, there was a dragon he could ask. After all, Ember had to get bandaged somewhere.

Scale Break. Topaz despised the disease Scale Break more than any other. The whelp before her was burning up, sections of his scales turned a ghostly white. Gemstone was carefully applying a stinging balm to the whelp’s hide. Being a Steelspine made her a living weapon; her claws were always a hazard, especially when applying a slick balm to dragons’ hides.

“Good, nearly done,” Topaz said, looking over her student’s work.

There came a sudden slam, causing Gemstone to pull her claws away from the whelp.

“Topaz Goldwing, I demand to speak with you,” Torch said in a booming voice. His anger was so raw everyone in the cave could feel it. Yet Topaz showed no fear. No, though a delicate procedure had been interrupted, she was far from fearful.

Topaz’s bronze claw shot out and grabbed the great Dragon Lord by his throat, slamming him against the nearest wall.

“How dare you come into my cave, cause a ruckus, and endanger my patient. You will sit and stay silent until we are done,” she barked, making his command a mere whisper in comparison.

The display of strength was enough to instill some patience into Torch. Had this been a dragon around his age, a lesson would need to be taught, but being a healer and his senior, Topaz could get away with things like this. After all, she didn’t need to mend his wounds.

Topaz returned to her work. The fungal infection could be lethal if not properly treated, turning from Scale Break to Scale Rot, a disease she’d once had a long, long, long time ago. Topaz needed both her and Gemstone to be calm and collected so they could identify every infected area, something that’d be impossible if Torch was shrieking. They soon finished, and Topaz let out a sigh of relief.

“That should do it,” she cooed, patting the whelp’s head. “The infection wasn’t too bad, it should clear up the day after tomorrow.” She turned to the whelp’s mother. “He’s your firstborn, yes? Gemstone will pop by your cave to reapply the salve tomorrow at sunrise. Keep him in. He’s to rest and nothing else.”

The mother nodded, collected her whelp, and hurried out of the cave, glancing at Torch as she passed.

“Now that he’s taken care of, what can I help you with, Lord Torch?” Topaz said in her usual, soft tone.

Torch rubbed his sore neck. He would have expected Topaz's grip to weaken with time, yet it was still as strong as if she had just turned 200. “You treated my daughter a few days ago. I want to know who hurt her.”

“Like I keep track of that,” Topaz scoffed. “She had a sprained ankle. That’s all either of us cared about.”

Torch looked between the two dragons. Neither showed signs of lying.

“I see. Did she mention who helped her?” Torch asked. He noticed a few small facial twitches. He had that to go on, at least.

“If neither your mate nor your daughter told you that, leave well enough alone,” Topaz advised. There was likely a good reason that they’d keep Garble’s name from Torch, and if Torch had a just a single brain cell, he’d let Ember have her little secret.

“No. I am her father; I will decide if this whelp can have any kind of relationship with her.” But to Torch’s great ire, Topaz balked at him as she slowly trudged to a spot to rest and count her medicines. “Bitter old bat,” he snarled. “do you think yourself above me?”

“I do,” Topaz said without a hint of fear or worry, “and I’ve entertained you long enough.” She turned to meet his searing gaze. “Get out of my cave, and leave us to our work.”

Torch’s eyes narrowed. “You think that you can send me off? I am the Dragon Lord. I order you to tell me his name.”

An order from the Dragon Lord himself. Thinking that Topaz would be forced to speak Garble’s name, Gemstone turned to her master, expecting her to glow bright, and saw nothing. In fact, his command had served only to bring out a fiery rage within Topaz.

“The gall a little wretch like you must have,” Topaz said with a low growl. “The Dragon Lord only has authority over dragons of their generation and younger, ‘Torchy’.” In an act of disrespect, she pinched his cheeks, like she’d done with her own granddaughter. “I am too old to indulge a brat trying to browbeat old healers into doing their bidding, like some spoiled, petulant child throwing a tantrum.”

Torch wished he could argue, but Topaz was right, he had no power over her. He heard a snort, and turned to see Gemstone, who quickly turned her head away. Such a young, pretty, little dragon she was. “What about you, Little One? Do you know the name of my daughter’s partner? If you do, I order you to tell me everything you know about him.” His eyes glanced at Topaz, and he smirked.

Gemstone’s hide began to glow and, after trying to resist the command, to itch. Torch had made a cunning ploy, neither healer could deny it.

“I apologize, Master Topaz,” Gemstone gasped. “His name is Garbuncle Ironscale of the Ironscale Clan. Firstborn in front of Smolderessence Ironscale and his adopted little brother, Heathspike Ironscale. He knows how to read, and-”

“Enough,” Torch declared. “I must take my leave.”

“You are not going anywhere, not when Gemstone still has so much to say,” Topaz said sternly, grabbing Torch’s massive shoulder and yanking him back into the cave.

Gemstone smiled sweetly. This was one way she could get back at him. “She’s right, My Lord. You said ‘everything’ and I intend to tell you everything.” She smiled again, and spoke for another hour.

Torch never talked back or disrespected a healer ever again. Yet, the time wasted was well worth it. He had a name now; Garbuncle Ironscale. That damned enabler. He should have never let him anywhere near his daughter. All he’d done was encourage her foolishness, giving her some benign fantasy world where drakes never raised a hand at her.

Young Garble wasn’t all bad, though. When Ember had been hurt, he’d helped her, so he deserved a warning if nothing else. One warning. Torch wished he’d got the name of the other whelp, the one who’d actually hurt Ember, but there was a simple way to punish them, and all he needed to do was make sure no-one touched his daughter again. He was the Dragon Lord, he could make it happen.

Simmering, Torch returned to his cave, and picked out a small dagger from his hoard, before also picking up his befuddled daughter by her tail.

“What’d I do!?” Ember cried.

“You got hurt,” Torch said, with not an ounce of emotion in his voice.

Alarm bells began to sound in Blaze’s head and she stood. “Where are you taking our daughter?” She waited for an answer, but heard only silence. “Torch, what are you doing?”

“Be silent.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Be silent!” Torch barked, turning to meet her gaze.

Their eyes locked, and her scales began to glow, signifying an order had been issued. It was similar to what he had done a year ago, with one key difference. Blaze could see that this wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment, overly emotional response; this was a deliberate and targeted use of his authority. Blaze could only glare at her mate as she fell silent.

Torch sighed as he left the cave, knowing deep in his heart that it would be sometime before he was welcomed back in. He reminded himself he was doing this for Ember, and what he was doing was right.

Nearly every parent became confused as their child’s hide began to glow. Torch couldn’t possibly be conscripting nothing but ten- and eleven-year-olds to be the next Dragon Lord, could he? However, those children with older siblings knew it couldn’t be the case. Afterall, only the firstborn of each clan would be called up. Regardless, the summoned whelps all trekked towards the Dragon Lord’s throne, a humungous stone seat carved into a mountain, followed by a few older, curious dragons.

Garble swallowed a growing lump in his throat as he walked amongst the crowd. Was this what he was supposed to expect for the Gauntlet; him fighting in an entire sea of whelps?

‘Except Ember,’ he thought to himself. Ember was still recovering, which was sad, but it was one less whelp to fight. He took a deep breath. He was going to do fine. Smolder and Spike were in his corner 120%, and that was likely an underestimate. He kept his thoughts on his little brother’s bright green eyes and wide smile, and his sister’s excited smirk. She had always wanted to be a duchess. Duchess Smolder and Duke Heathspike, the names sounded so noble, so right for them.

And then his own title: Dragon Lord Garbuncle Ironscale. He steeled himself as he came to the throne, bottling up his excitement, fear, and anxiety.

He was not the only one. Slicer Steelspine stood not too far away. Excitement coursed through his veins as he took note of his competition. One slash was all it would take to scare everyone off. Then the mantle would be his. His bit his lower lip as he gazed up at Torch, who looked down on all of them, or maybe it was Slicer staring at him, mesmerized by his greatness. Soon, it would be him on the throne, thanks in no small part to his sister forgoing her birthright. He listened closely as Torch began to speak.

“Do any of you know why I called you all here?” Torch asked.

It was Slicer that stepped forward, and spoke in a loud voice, “For the Gauntlet of Fire!” He was shocked when Torch began to laugh. Slicer shrunk and stepped back into the crowd, to hide himself. A good two minutes passed before the Dragon Lord was able to speak normally.

“Why would you think that? I’m not stepping down and letting whelps replace me. None of you have even molted yet! No, I called you for a different reason.” He opened his closed fist to reveal a very emotional Ember. “Do any of you know who this is?”

“Dad, please don’t,” Ember begged, tears welling up in her eyes. This was like something out of her worst nightmare. She stood before the sea of whelps, all looking at her and muttering amongst themselves. Some were likely starting to put two and two together. Her peers were stupid, but they weren’t that stupid.

“Ember,” a very unfortunate whelp said. “She’s really annoying!”

“You have ten seconds to rephrase that,” Torch warned.

“She’s a loudmouth?” the whelp said, wondering what he was supposed to say. He wasn’t stating anything untrue, in his opinion. Ember was constantly screaming about how she would defeat Garble on the field of battle. Every. Single. Day.

“One hundred push-ups. Now.” Torch said flatly. Soon the whelp’s voice was echoing across the valley as he counted every pushup he did. “For the rest of you, she is Ember Brightcrest, my daughter. The Princess of the Dragonlands.”

There was a sudden uproar between the whelps as they processed the revelation. As Ember expected, ‘She’ll run home and cry to her daddy’ ceased being an insult, and became a threat.

A few specific whelps began to sweat; Arrow and Clump in particular. The two stood perfectly still, bile beginning to crawl up their throats. Scales simply accepted that her jeering remarks were no longer going to be acceptable. At the very least, Garble wouldn’t even think about going near Ember now, leaving him to her.

“No, no, no, don’t do this!” Ember cried, her tiny claws beating against Torch’s palm. But she didn’t even register as an itch to him. Torch ignored his daughter’s pleas and continued.

“Some of you thought it wise to attack her, to hurt her,” Torch scowled at the whelps surrounding him. “I’m here to tell you that was a mistake. I will find out who hurt her, and you will be punished. Turn your attention to the moron who thought it a good idea to insult her. I can do much, much worse.” Just to make his point, Torch lifted a large boulder in his spare claw and crushed it without much effort. “My daughter is off limits, are we clear?”

The whelps all nodded. It wasn’t good enough for Torch.

“Answer me clearly!” Torch snarled. “Ember is off limits. Are. We. Clear?”

There came a resounding ‘Yes’.

“Good. Now I just have one question regarding a single drake among you.”

Arrow and Clump swallowed the growing lumps in their throats. Fume leaned towards Clump and whispered, “If he kills you, can I have your rock collection?”

Fizzle took a step forward and stood beside Arrow. “Arrow, those emeralds you found earlier, can I have them?” he asked, thinking that Arrow wouldn’t be able to enjoy them in a few moments.

“Where is Garbuncle Ironscale?” Torch asked.

Hundreds of fingers pointed at the red dragon, as the whelps themselves backed away from him. Many thought that he’d be murdered for fighting Ember on a near-daily basis, while others thought that he’d be exiled. Clump and Arrow were just relieved that Torch hadn’t singled them out. Either way, every whelp present had a tacit feeling they’d never be seeing Garble again after today.

“Stay away from my daughter,” the Dragon Lord ordered.

The whelp seemed shocked at first, before his face scrunched up into a scowl. Torch was ready to put the whelp in his place, but was pleasantly surprised when he turned and left.

“Dismissed, all of you!” Torch bellowed. The whelps obeyed without fuss or hesitation. Torch allowed himself a sigh of relief. Ember was safe now. It didn’t matter what she tried to do, no whelp in their right mind would try laying a finger on her, let alone accept her challenge to fight. His joy, however, proved short-lived, as he heard a whimper. He looked down at his daughter, and saw tears forming in her eyes. “Ember, what’s the matter?”

“I hate you,” Ember said with a soft sniffle.

“What?”

“I hate you!” Ember repeated, shouting this time.

Garble calling her strong had sent a dagger into her heart. It had nearly broke her in two, but she’d recovered. Torch? His order to her peers was bad enough, but with his one order to Garble, he’d effectively reached into her chest and ripped her heart out before shredding it to ribbons. Ember wanted to be normal. She wanted to dig for gems, fight, and play with other whelps. However, being the princess and Torch’s only child, there was always some obstacle. Now there was an iron wall in her way, one that she couldn’t move past.

Her tiny fists pounded against Torch’s claw, all while she repeated ‘I hate you’ over and over again as tears flowed down her cheeks.

Sighing drearily, Torch reached down and pinched his daughter’s tail, lifting her up. Ember fought and cried on the entire trip home. But she would have to see that this was for the best, even if it was only one day many years later.

His mate was waiting in the back of the cave for them. When Ember was put back on the ground, she stumbled her way to her mother, wrapped her arms around her Blaze’s claw and began weeping. Soon, everything Torch did was laid bare, with Ember weeping into her mother’s snout. Yet there was one trespass that seemed to upset Ember the most.

“He-he ordered Garble to stay away from m-me!” Ember sobbed with a whimper. How was he supposed to be her rival or paladin if he couldn’t be anywhere near her? How was she supposed to improve and become Dragon Lord if there was no-one to train with?

“Oh, sweetheart,” Blaze said with a sigh. “It’s okay Ember, it’s okay, let it out.”

She gently held Ember close to her with her claw before turning her and her daughter away from Torch. Ember believed that she had lost a friend. There were two types of ‘friend’ in the Dragon Lands, if dragons did friends at all. Many were casual whelp friends. They were the children you played with before growing up and moving on to start a life with a mate. Then there was a true friend, where two dragons forged a bond of mutual respect. They would talk often, share secrets and personal gossip with one another, and if something went truly wrong, they could rely on each other for help. Blaze herself enjoyed such a bond with Amber, and she could tell that Ember and Garble had begun forming one as well. What was a whelp to do, when this was torn apart by someone more powerful than them?

“Blaze, please, I know you don’t agree with what I did,” Torch began, “but I have a duty as her father to make sure she’s safe. I know I hurt you-”

“Get out of this cave,” Blaze said softly, as she gently ran a claw down her weeping daughter’s back.

“Blaze-”

“Get. Out.” Blaze hissed. The venom in her voice was palpable, but that wasn’t the only thing present. There was a sorrow, a cold chill of betrayal that made his blood run cold.

Torch obeyed, and left without saying another word. His head was hung low, and his expression was grim as could be. Hurt didn’t even come close to what he’d done to his mate with his order. He’d broken the same rule twice now, but this time was different. This wasn’t just a curse in a fit of frenzy, or a regular old dragon insult, uttered in a fit of passion. This was a deliberate dagger thrust between his mate’s shoulder’s. He hated to think of it, he prayed that they could be salvaged, but a small part of him was fearful of what his mate would do next.

After what he’d done, Blaze had every right to annul their union. A priest, or cleric as they were sometimes called, would likely scoff at the idea at first, but once she told them the reason, he could see how seriously they would take the offense. But did he really break his vows? For dragons, a vow given during a mating ceremony was absolute, save for if it went against their duty as a parent. Yes, he hadn’t respected nor cherished Blaze in this one instance, his unwillingness to debate or hear her out was proof enough, but he did it so he could protect their daughter. Why couldn’t Blaze see that? Ember was too young, but Blaze, she was smarter than everyone, she had to see that what he was doing was right.

Perhaps one day, she would. One day.

Garble’s return home was met by a torrent of questions from his whole family. “Did you win?!” Spike excitedly asked. “Do I get to be your enforcer?!” He bit his lower lip, eyes wide with joy as he waited for an answer, his tail wagging to and fro.

“Do I get to be a duchess?” Smolder asked. She tried to keep a calmness about her, but Garble could see that she was starting to shake with excitement.

“What was it about?” Flare finally asked. If Torch was passing on the mantle, there was a snowball’s chance in their land that he’d like it if a ten-year-old succeeded him. Garble began to recount his day, putting the most emphasis on Ember’s status as Princess, a revelation that had Smolder looking at her book, The Princess Promenade, and Spike looking at his book, Burnferno. Both books had opinions on the matter ranging from ‘meant to be’ to ‘proved himself by saving a princess, and now he gets to be a wandering hero and beat up lots and lots of ponies’. Despite being from a book written in Equestria, Burnferno seemed to fight many, many ponies.

“Then he singled me out and said I couldn’t play with Ember anymore! I didn’t even do anything to her.”

Amber could see the disappointment on her son’s face, and a hint of anger and confusion. Flare let out a humph, muttering to himself about the ungratefulness of the Dragon Lord. After elbowing her mate, lest he poison his son’s mind with thoughts of disobedience towards the Scepter. Amber was about to comfort her son, however, when Spike spoke up first.

“So, she won’t keep attacking you. That’s good, isn’t it?”

That little drake was too naïve, adorably so. His mother could only shake her head.

Yet Garble felt a rush of emotions. Annoyance, anger, pity, and sadness. A small part of him kept telling him to cry, just a little, but he refused. He was a real dragon, dragons never cried. “No, it’s not good, it’s-Just be quiet, Spike,” he snapped. He couldn’t imagine that Spike would understand, how could he?

He saw Spike shrink a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad, it’s just-”

“I know,” Garble sighed, his expression softening. “It’s not your fault, it’s just-” He took a breath. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

Spike could feel that something was wrong and went to follow Garble, only to be stopped by his mother. “Why’s he leaving? Did I say something wrong?”

“A bit.” She saw the pang of guilt that surged through his body. Tears began to well in his eyes as he looked towards his older brother.

“You’re not the reason he’s leaving Spike.” Flare said. “He’s upset, Spike. He needs time to process.”

“O-okay,” Spike sniffed. Until then, Spike patiently waited at the mouth of his cave for his brother to return.

There was only one place Garble could go to vent, without someone interjecting. After a short while he entered a familiar cave and called, “Uncle Smog?”

Slowly, a large red dragon trudged to the mouth of his cave, and casually looked around, before setting his sights on the small whelp before him. “Well, if it isn’t my oldest nephew. Does your mother know you’re here?” It had been over a year since the incident involving Spike and Smolder. Smog had still not been allowed near them, mostly on Amber’s orders.

“No, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

“That’s not the safest thing you can do,” Smog tut-tuted. “Your mother will start to worry. And then, if she finds out you came here…”

“I know, I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

Garble took a seat inside the cave and began to vent. Smog had numerous reactions to his nephew’s escapades with the little princess. Amusement at first, a snicker here and there at Ember’s pontifications, and he even broke out laughing when Garble told him about breaking Arrow’s nose.

“It’s not that funny,” Garble grumbled.

“It’s not that, lad. I’m just proud of you!” Smog said, wiping tears of mirths from his eyes. “One punch, to defend a princess no less! Your sister must have thought it something out of those books she reads!”

“A little bit.”

“What else happened?” Garble’s expression turned glum, and after telling him about Torch, so did Smog’s. “I knew Torch wasn’t the brightest, but that’s just asinine.” On a knee-jerk reaction, part of him wanted his nephew to prove he was the threat Torch must think he was. Fortunately common sense, basic decency, and the smallest shred of logic made him see reason. “How are you feeling about it?”

“I don’t know,” Garble said. “Spike said that it was good.” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice, one that Smog was unable to miss.

“Don’t be too upset with him. He’s young, naïve, like your father was and like you were. Remember when Smolder was hatched? You were upset because you thought girls couldn't fight, so you couldn’t train with her,” Smog recalled with a chuckle.

Garble could feel his cheeks flush at the memory. “That was kinda dumb.”

“He’s at that age, Garble. He’ll grow out of it.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t let this upset you too much,” Smog said. “Torch is being stupid.”

“He’s being stupid?” Garble asked.

“If a dragon broke Smolder’s ankle, and someone broke his nose for it, I’d welcome the boy into my cave and let him take a few of my gems. No doubt your father would do the same.”

“He’s being stupid.” Garble repeated.

“Yes.” Smog could see that Garble’s mind was on other things. Perhaps it was time to send him off, but not without a small present. Smog picked out four gems for his nephew and deposited them in a small burlap sack. There were two for Garble, and two more for his siblings to share. It may have seemed unfair, but Garble was the one to actually earn them. “Here, it’s not much, but you and your siblings should enjoy these. Consider them an ‘I miss you all’ gift.”

Garble looked inside the bag, and became excited. A fire ruby for Spike, an amber for Smolder, and for him, a pink diamond and a jet. “Thanks, Uncle Smog!” Garble exclaimed before rushing out of the cave.

This was the perfect snack to celebrate later tonight. Sometimes his father would make a rule, like no reading, and his mother would then say the rule was stupid. If she did that, the rule was rescinded. It stood to reason that if he got Ember’s mom to hear about Torch’s rule and have her declare it stupid, then even if Torch was the Dragon Lord, he couldn’t do anything to stop him from fighting Ember. Foolproof.

It took two hours to find the cave. But soon, Garble came to Torch’s home. He took a step forward and his foot hit one stone, sending it into the cave. Garble felt a low rumble, before Blaze Brightcrest burst from her cave.

“I said to get out!” She roared, slamming her claws on the floor.

Garble let out a loud yelp of surprise as he was launched into the air by the shock-wave before falling to the ground. “Ow,” he groaned.

Blaze’s eyes looked down, and she let out a gasp. It wasn’t Torch, it was little Garbuncle Ironscale. “Oh, I’m so, sorry, little one! I-” The inevitable question came into her mind. “What are you doing here?”

“Torch’s order is stupid!” Garble declared, as he pushed himself up off the ground.

“Indeed,” said Blaze, without missing a beat. “But I would suggest not saying that to him.”

“So, you agree it’s stupid.”

“I- yes. Garble, where is this going?”

“My mom says that sometimes my dad makes a stupid rule, so she gets final say if we have to follow it. You’re his mate, don’t you get final say on rules like that?”

This was adorably naive, making it all the more heart-wrenching how she was now supposed to take his hopes and smash them into the ground. “No, Garble, I don’t. Torch is the Dragon Lord. His word is law. I don’t have the power to rescind his orders, no-one does. Not unless you’re the Dragon Lord.”

“Bu-but it’s a stupid order!”

“That it is, but it’s his order. There’s nothing I can do.” She expected him to get upset, which he did, but there was something else. He seemed more sad than angry. He began to dig through a bag before pulling out a pink diamond and tossing it at her feet.

“What’s this for?” Blaze asked.

“Ember, because I’m taking it back from her the next time we fight!” He marched off, leaving a very confused Blaze behind.

The little dragon kept marching, until he was back in his cave and in his sleeping spot. Seeing that he was upset, his parents thought it best to give him some space.

That night Garble tossed and turned, thinking about what Blaze had said. He couldn’t do anything unless he was the Dragon Lord, like that was the problem. Since he was the Future Dragon Lord, he was going to use his authority to undo Torch’s rule. The next time he saw Ember, they’d be fighting for real.

Author's Note

Special thanks to VoxAdam for editing and helping out with the chapter.

Chapter 16: Rivals for Life

A week and a half passed. Ember had not seen her father since her mother ordered him out of the cave. Ember asked why her father wasn’t allowed back in the cave, and why’d he been kicked out to begin with.

“He used his authority in a way that was hurtful, Ember,” Blaze had explained, sorrow present in her voice. “I know why he did it, but it doesn’t change that he hurt us both. I need some time away from him. You’ll see him soon, though, don’t you worry.”

It was easier than saying Torch had treated her more like a servant than an equal, and Blaze wasn’t sure if she could trust him again. She suspected that with time, she would be able to think differently, but for now the wound was just too raw.

Ember fared no better. Despite her ankle healing, she only ever ate a gem or two and sulked the rest of the day away. This wasn’t healthy. She needed to be outside running about, eating a full three meals a day, and laughing.

Then came the third day after Ember’s ankle was healed, and Blaze nudged her daughter, who was still curled up on the floor.

“Ember, it’s time to get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Ember sniffed.

“You don’t have a choice in the matter, you need to get out. It’s not good for you to be cooped up in here.” Blaze let out a sigh. “I know it’s hard, but you need to go outside. It might feel like it, but the world hasn’t ended, sweetheart. You just need to go outside to see it.”

Her daughter remained curled on the floor. Sighing, a reluctant Blaze gently nudged Ember’s prone little body over the dusty cavern floor, towards the entrance of the cave, until she was outside.

Ember squinted as the sun hit her face. She grunted and stood up, murmuring to herself, keeping her eyes covered while they adjusted to the light. With a groan, she tried to take a step back, only to bump into her mother’s snout and get nudged back outside. Evidently, Blaze was not giving her a choice in the matter. So she let her shoulders slump and finally stepped out, moving without direction. Blaze followed her every step of the way.

When they came to the quarry, Blaze waited on the outer edge with the rest of the parents, while Ember proceeded down to where the whelps played. It was a long shot, but Ember prayed none of them recalled her father’s order.

She saw Clump, and memories from a year ago resurfaced. She wanted a rematch. Surreptitiously, she spent a good five minutes digging, and found an adequate gem to wager. Taking a deep breath, she called out to the fat dragon. Clump’s eyes turned to pinpricks upon seeing Ember approach him.

Ember tossed her gem at his feet. “You against me, the winner gets the loser's gem.”

“Just take it,” Clump said, throwing his gem next to hers, “I’m not about to get killed!”

Before she could respond, Clump had already dashed off, joining a group of whelps for safety.

In anger, Ember picked up Clump’s gem, and threw it as far as she could. She wasn’t about to be given a gem, she was going to win one. Her sights turned to Fume and she tried again.

Soon, she had been given at least a dozen gems and had thrown just as many away. They all remembered, all the whelps. Of course they did. Her father was the Dragon Lord.

Falling to the ground in defeat, her lip began to quiver. ‘Keep it together,’ she thought to herself. ‘Keep it together. Keep it together.’

She kept repeating this over and over to herself until something brushed the back of her neck. It was a small, steady wisp of fire. Letting out a yelp of surprise, and doing her best not to burst into giggles as the flames tickled her scales, Ember launched herself forward before turning to face whoever had dared assault her.

“Finally!” Garble snorted, “I was starting to think you were ignoring me.”

Ember raised an eyebrow. She recalled that Garble was explicitly ordered to stay away from her. So it was a bit confusing to watch as Grable started to circle her, as if looking for something.

He spoke at last. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The pink diamond.”

She could recall that her mother had given her a pink diamond to eat earlier in the week, but once she had, Blaze had looked borderline horrified. “I ate it. How’d you know ‘bout the diamond my Mom gave me?”

“You ate it!? You were supposed to bring it with you!” Garble shouted at her. “I gave it to you so I could win it back! Now you owe me a pink diamond!”

“What?” Ember retorted, wide-eyed. “I don’t owe you anything! My Mom gave it to me.”

“I gave it to your Mom, so she could give it to you, so I could fight you and take it back!”

“Well, if that’s even true, that’s stupid! I’m not allowed to fight, and you’re not supposed to get close to me.” Ember turned away, thinking the memory would soon scare him off.

“I don’t care about that,” Garble scoffed.

Ember perked up and she turned again, surprised. “You don’t?”

“No, cos’ it’s a dumb rule, and you know it!” Garble answered, throwing up his arms. “We’re dragons, we fight! I fight, my sister fights, even my brother’s going to fight and he’s winning on his first punch! Your Dad’s just being dumb, like you when you ate my diamond.”

“I wasn’t dumb! Mom never said anything about you, and even if she did, you wouldn’t have won it back!”

“Wanna bet?” he asked, smirking at her.

Ember’s eyes narrowed, and she pounced. The tussle was brief, as her two-week recovery had left Ember a bit rusty, which Garble soon took advantage of. He pushed her off balance, before tackling her to the ground, pinning her.

“Easy!” Garble proclaimed, getting off his opponent. “You owe me a pink diamond.”

Growling to herself, Ember made herself glare daggers at him, but she was biting her lower lip to keep from smiling. Garble was the biggest jerk in the whole world. So she didn’t hold back as her fist made contact with his cheek.

It knocked him slightly askew, yet his only response to the punch was a wide grin.

“Wanna fight for real?”

She felt just the smallest twinge of excitement, her eyes going from narrow to wide.

A real fight, with Garble no less. Ember gave him a nod, and tried to collect herself. Her body began trembling as they took their starting positions. It took all of Ember’s willpower to keep herself from squealing in pure delight. She had dreamt of this moment, lived it in her dreams. Once she beat him, he would have to admit that she was the future Dragon Lord, and then he’d be her Paladin.

And thus indeed, Ember moved quicker than he’d have expected, swiftly punching Garble once, twice, three times. Then she pushed her luck and went for a fourth strike, her excitement clouding her judgement, and Garble caught her fist. Cursing, Ember berated herself internally for getting carried away. She should have gotten some distance, and waited, tiring him out just like she had with Arrow.

Garble was smug, though, too smug for his own good. After getting that first hit in, he’d likely let her go so he could mock her. Ember was already fuming at the thought. However, it would give her time to recover, plan, and most of all, the time she needed to distance herself. She readied herself for the inevitable hit.

Only, what happened was that Garble pulled Ember forward and his fist collided with her gut, which sent her to her knees, leaving her winded.

Regret and guilt instantly surged through his body. Garble recalled when he’d carried her, how dirty he’d felt when she started crying. This was a hundred times worse. It was as if he had betrayed his purpose in life, and spat in the eye of Bahamut himself. He let go of her wrist and slowly backed away.

“I’m not fighting anymore,” Garble said quietly.

Groaning, Ember asked, “We’re finally fighting, and you’re giving up!? Why!? Is it because you think I can’t take it, or are you just scared of my Dad?”

She slowly stood up so she could meet his eyes, continuing to glare at him.

“Neither,” Garble mumbled. “I-" He paused for a moment, turning a slightly darker shade of red, "I just don’t like hitting girls.”

“What was that?”

“I don’t like hitting girls!” Garble said, much louder this time.

It was not what she was expecting him to say. Although, it did explain a few things. Like why he never hit Scales whenever she got a bit too clingy, or why he’d only ever pinned or restrained her in a fight until now.

“Why?” Ember asked. “We’re dragons, we’re supposed to fight each other!”

“It feels wrong.”

Always, there was always something in her way. She put her hands over her face and groaned in frustration, just as a deep voice snarled at them.

“You little wretch!”

The two whelps froze in fear as a shadow fell over them.

‘Dad,’ Ember thought to herself.

The ground shook thunderously when the Dragon Lord landed. “Ember, find your mother, now!” Torch ordered, pointing a huge forefinger.

Ember shot her father a look of ire, before reluctantly obeying.

No sooner had she gone, Torch snorted a hot plume of smoke straight at Garble. “You. You dare to disobey me and lay a claw on her!?”

Garble waved away the smoke, after a short coughing fit. He shot a glare at Torch, something that no whelp had dared do. By all logic, Garble should have been a trembling mess, at a loss for words. Instead, he was feeling defiant.

“Yeah, and I’d do it again!” Garble snapped. Torch’s face twisted in fury and disbelief. “You’re rule is stupid! Ember was winning that fight until she tripped.”

“I don’t care how well you think she did. She got hurt,” Torch hissed. “Like how you just hurt her.” Garble looked down at his feet, but his defiant feeling hadn’t abated. “You helped her once, so I will give you one last warning. You shall stay away from her, or else.”

Garble raised his head, and met Torch’s look with one of equal intensity. “Or else what?”

“Seventy-two, s-seventy-three, s-seventy-” Garble let out a gasp as he collapsed to the ground.

As much as Torch was loath to admit it, there was not much he could do to Garble, not without incurring the combined wrath of the entire Ironscale clan, their allied clans, Blaze or every Paladin of Bahamut in a radius of twenty-five miles. The best-case scenario if he directly hurt Garble was that he’d be stripped of his title and branded a Dog of Tiamat, before getting exiled from the Dragonlands.

So, Torch had given Garble a difficult, gruelling task instead. 200 push-ups. The whelp would have to be a fool to endure such punishment every time he fought Ember.

“Rest,” Torch grumbled. “Once you can move, I expect one-hundred and twenty-six more.”

Garble couldn’t help but let himself collapse to the ground. Yet when he next looked at Torch, his own glare was as strong as ever “I’m fighting her tomorrow,” he gasped, catching his breath.

“Then you and I will be back here tomorrow,” snarled Torch.

‘Worth it,’ Garble privately thought, before resuming his punishment.

“Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty-”

Witnessing her mate punishing Garble had lit a rage within Blaze, but as she still held on to a basic sense of social etiquette, she deemed it best to leave the quarry with Ember, lest she wind up making a scene. Still, there was one thing about the event which shocked her, and this was how happy Ember seemed to her. Outwardly, Ember was still pouty, but there were subtle mannerisms to her demeanor that a mother could pick up on. Her stopping mid-sentence to bite her lip? It was because Ember wanted to stop herself from smiling. Marching about the cave all while she complained, but pivoting on one foot to turn around? Ember’s version of twirling. And her claiming Garble was a complete moron who used underhanded tactics to get her attention, but insisting that they still battle?

Code for ‘I’m glad to have a friend’.

“He actually hit me this time!” Ember happily recollected. Blaze felt a twinge of worry. While it was normal for dragons to get into scuffles, she didn’t feel comfortable hearing that anyone had punched her daughter, even if it was part of something that would make Ember happy. She watched as her daughter’s smile fell. “But then he wanted to stop. He said he didn’t like hitting girls.”

“Oh... And how did you react to that?”

“I got mad. But I guess it makes sense. A Paladin shouldn’t be hitting his future Dragon Lord; he’d be doing the exact opposite of his job!”

That elicited a small chuckle from Blaze. “He would be, wouldn’t he?”

“It got worse after he hit me. You saw Dad.”

“Yes, I did,” Blaze nodded.

“But… Garble didn’t even look scared when he was being yelled at. Mom, do you think we’ll be able to fight again?”

“Would be splendid if you could.” Blaze replied.

She felt a twinge of guilt encouraging Ember to go against Torch’s wishes. However, she still could feel the sting of his abusive order. Ember was her daughter as much as Torch’s. She definitely had a say in who Ember could and could not see. Besides, Ember was smiling, all thanks to a little whelp brave and stupid enough to go against the Dragon Lord himself.

Such an act deserved a reward, and Blaze knew just what it should be.

Spike huffed poutily. “I can’t believe the Dragon Lord is a big jerk.”

Garble had been chewed out by Torch himself, then their father, and finally their mother. Fortunately, Garble that was all that happened to him, their parents having decided that Torch’s labor was punishment enough. Garble mumbled something Spike couldn’t make out.

There was a sudden commotion near the mouth of the cave.

“We already scolded him,” their father bellowed, “what else do you need?”

“Flare,” their mother scolded, “do not speak to her like that!”

“Amber, he’s got every right to feel upset,” they heard Blaze say. “And I apologize for anything the Dragon Lord did. I’ll handle him as soon as I take care of business here. You’ll have nothing to worry about going forward.”

“You had better! Why, my son defends his whelp, and then he- Ow!”

“Flare, don’t you say another word,” said their mother, the signs pointing in all three children’s heads that she’d likely just bonked their father on the head. “Blaze, what do you need to talk with Garble about?”

“I wanted to give him something,” Blaze said. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Their mother called for Garble. Garble remained in his spot. She called for him again. Again he ignored her. She called a third time, this time in a warning tone.

“Garbuncle Ironscale, come out here. Now.”

Garble groaned, lifting himself up as Spike called to the front of the cave. “He’s coming, Mama, I just needed help with a few words!”

Spike really was too kind to him. Garble couldn’t name a single dragon that would have covered for him like Spike. Once he was far enough away, though, Smolder came to Spike’s side, watching anxiously.

“What do you think she’s gonna give him?” Spike asked. “I bet it's a treasure, like-like a sword, or a magic crown or something!”

“I dunno, maybe a gem or, oh, or-or-or Ember's hand.” Smolder said, hopping about excitedly in her spot. “Maybe they’re gonna get betrothed!”

This was a word she’d just learned from their mother, and she’d unfortunately grown obsessed with the fantasy thanks to her princess books.

At this, Spike stuck his tongue out in disgust. “That’s dumb.”

“You’re dumb!” Smolder snapped back.

Unaware of his siblings’ bickering, Garble soon came before the Lord Consort. By all rights, he would have done something to give her a show of respect. Yet he was feeling too exhausted now to give anything more than a slight wave.

“There you are,” Blaze smiled at the young drake. Still, she pressed a claw to the scruff of Garble’s neck. “Come, let’s you and I talk outside.”

“Am I in trouble?” Garble asked, resisting the urge to push off her claw.

“No, quite the opposite, young dragon,” Blaze assured him. “I wanted to give you something for what you did for Ember.”

Garble blinked as his feet trod upon outside ground. “Carrying her?”

“No,” Blaze said, coming to a stop and circling around to gaze down upon him. “For what it is that you said to her, and did for her today. Did you know that besides me, not one dragon had ever told her she was strong?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Garble said with a shrug. “Does this mean I can still play with her?”

“I think so, but I need to have a chat with my mate about it. Torch worries about Ember, too much in my opinion. Never mind that, though. Here, Garble. As thanks.”

Blaze opened her spare claw, presenting Garble with a sheathed knife.

He looked at the gift curiously. It looked nice. The grip appeared a little too big for him now, but once he’d grown bigger, it’d fit him perfectly. He took it, and gazed up towards Blaze.

“Go on. Unsheathe it.”

Garble did as he was told, giving the knife a pull, to slowly reveal the blade. Spotting the glittering silver metal, Garble’s mouth fell open, his eyes turning into saucers. “Platinum,” he mouthed in an amazed whisper.

“True Platinum,” Blaze corrected.

True Platinum was not just a valuable metal. It was sacred to dragons. Platinum was said to be the metal which Bahamut’s roar ripped from the ground during the dawn of creation, the metal he’d enchanted and forged into his body. It was the metal used by his Paladins to cull the Dogs of Tiamat. The metal forged into the crown of the first Dragon Lord Sardior, Maker of the Bloodstone Scepter, the only dragon to be handpicked by Bahamut himself to rule dragonkind. It was said platinum could harm malevolent spirits on contact and protect dragons from foul magics. Being one of the strongest metals in the world, only the Paladins and Priests of Bahamut knew the method to enchant and refine the element, a secret that they guarded with their lives.

“Why?” Even Garble understood that anyone giving him such a treasure was absurd. A gem? Maybe. A knife like this? His father had told him of dragons who had died fighting over the tiniest speck of the metal. Yet here was the Lady Blaze, handing him a blade forged from it.

“It’s simple. What you did for Ember is worth just as much as that knife. Torch can be overbearing at times… Bordering on the unwittingly cruel. You have no idea how happy you made her. Garble, I want you to consider that knife the centerpiece of your hoard. You’re three years away from your molt, correct? No reason you shouldn’t start building one.”

Garble sheathed the blade. He held it close to his chest, grinning. Spike was going to go insane when he saw this. So would Smolder. His friends would be amazed and envious, and just imagining when he showed it off to Ember! He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Blaze said with a giggle. “Run along now, I need to get back to my daughter, and I think you’ll wish to show off your treasure to your siblings.”

Grinning from ear to ear now, Garble nodded frantically and dashed back into the cave, crying for his family.

On the surface, the knife did seem rather plain-looking. The sheath which held it was itself metallic, but a dull metal, painted black.

“What does it look like? Take it out,” Spike urged, anxious to see a real weapon, somewhat hoping that he’d get to hold it.

Ever the big brother, Garble complied, and unsheathed the sacred weapon for his family to see. His parents’ mouths fell wide agape, Spike’s eyes went round. Oddly, Smolder was looking rather disinterested.

The blade was a light silver in color, its twinkle like that of stars glistening in the night. while the knife’s hilt was gilded silver and the handle wrapped in leather. Best of all, the rounded pommel had a fire-ruby stud embedded in the very bottom.

“Garble, are you sure Blaze gave you that as a present?” his mother asked. She was shocked to receive a nod.

Spike marveled at the knife. He had always dreamt of having his own weapon, ever since reading Burnferno. “That’s so cool! Can I hold it?”

Before Garble could answer, Flare spoke up sternly.

“Before anyone holds anything I want to show you all something regarding that knife,” he said, laying his fist on the ground. “Heathspike, Smolderessense, listen closely. I want the two of you to try and scratch me.”

His whelps stared at him in confusion.

“But I hurt Spike last time-” said Smolder.

“I know, but this is important. Just this once, the rule is rescinded so long as you attack me.”

Spike tilted his head at a word he didn’t know.

“It means you can break it and I won’t punish you,” explained Flare.

Cautiously, Smolder and Spike crept forward and hit their father. The punches they threw landed weakly at best.

Flare rolled his eyes. “I know you two are stronger than that. Hard as you can now, go on.”

They obeyed, and were relieved when they saw no injury. Then they slashed again, and again, and again, slowly breaking into giggles as they assaulted their father. It was like a game. Soon, the pair collapsed in exhaustion, though their laughs still echoed through the cave. There was not a single scratch on him, as expected.

“Good try, very good try,” Flare said softly. “Now, Garble, use your knife. And don’t stab it in, just try to make it a shallow cut.”

Uncertain where this was going, Garble placed the knife upon his father’s claw. Moving slowly, he slid the blade just a bit along the thick scales and drew blood.

The knife fell to the floor with a clatter as the whelps jumped back, terrified.

“Th-that’s not supposed to happen,” stammered Spike.

Even Smolder looked shaken, her face pale.

Flare’s voice was very quiet. “In most cases, you’re right. I can scarcely name anything that can cut us Ironscales. Keep in mind, True Platinum is said to make up the very scales of Bahamut. So, if Bahamut is the dragon above all dragons, why would our scales be stronger than his?” He put his claw to his mouth, and began to suck on the wound. He could see something of understanding in their eyes, but the knife still terrified them. “Pick up the knife, Garble. This is an important lesson.”

Garble stepped forward, picking his knife up once again. There was a new weight to it now. He took a deep breath, wiped the blade with a rag Amber silently handed him, and sheathed it.

“See?” Flare said, in a gentler tone. “It’s just a knife. It’s not hurting you nor your siblings.”

“But it can,” Garble whispered, eyes locked on the small trickle of blood that escaped his father’s claw.

“Yes, but only if you use it irresponsibly. Treat it like it’s a toy, and dragons can get hurt. However, if you treat it like a weapon, it will serve you well.”

Garble looked at his newly-sheathed knife, before wordlessly lumbering to his sleeping spot and placing it gingerly down there, feeling conscious of both his siblings and his parents’ silent, watching gaze. He wouldn’t need it anytime soon, so he would build a hoard around it. Just like Lady Blaze had suggested he do.

There was something nerve-wracking about seeing Torch after so long. But what exactly could she be frightened of? Blaze knew Torch well enough that he’d never strike her, anymore than he could order her about. Well, the latter was not entirely true; he could give her an order she’d be unable to refuse on the spot, but if he did that again, it would make her choice all the more clear. True, part of her missed him. The part of her which just wanted to forgive him and be done with their little spat.

Maybe she would eventually, but she still needed time. And he needed much more than that.

She entered her mate’s cave. Despite herself, Blaze felt a twinge of pity for him. His private cave was rather small compared to the cave they shared as a family. It was large enough for Torch, but it felt so cold and lonely inside. However, this wasn’t about Torch, she reminded herself. This was about Ember and her playmates.

Blaze cleared her throat, which instantly gained Torch’s attention.

“Who do you think-” He stopped himself upon seeing his mate standing at the cave’s entrance. “Blaze,” Torch said, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. He took a few steps towards his mate, only for her step back, causing him to stop in confusion..

“Lord Torch,” Blaze said, bowing her head.

Throughout his life, Torch had been punched, slashed, beaten and had his bones snapped. Any pain inflicted on him paled in comparison to what his mate had just done. ‘Lord Torch’ was but a formal greeting, a sign of respect given to him by his subjects. Blaze was not supposed to be one of his subjects, she was supposed to be his equal. “Blaze, please don’t-”

His mare held up a claw, silencing him instantly. “Please, my Lord, I request that you allow me to speak, if that is permitted.”

Some part of him knew he deserved this. That didn’t mean it couldn’t sting. “Speak.”

“Thank you,” Blaze said coolly. “I heard you scolded a whelp who was playing with my daughter. I ask that you let me raise my child as I see fit, and stop meddling in our affairs.”

There was no priest accompanying her, hence it stood to reason that he and she were still wed. At least on a technical level. The way she was speaking to him, though, it was as if a priest had not only declared their vows to be void, but had stripped him of all access to Ember. Except that hadn’t happened, so did he not still have a right to raise Ember as he saw fit?

“And what does your mate say?” Torch said tonelessly.

“Honestly, I don’t know if I have one at the moment.”

She didn’t know if she had one? Rage, sorrow, regret, and a slew of other emotions ran through Torch. What was this about? The rule, or his order? Perhaps it was both. Was he just supposed to be a slave to all her demands? No, no dragon would dare want that. Blaze didn’t want a slave nor a master, she wanted a partner.

He needed to compromise. He could opt to rescind the rule for any girls Ember whom spent time with at gatherings. And for the Ironscale brat, if it meant that much to them. But if that little red troublemaker ever upset his princess, he’d reinstate his rule within the hour.

“Alright. She’s free to play with any girls at a gathering,” Torch sighed. “And the red one. The red one only. Should I see any drake sneer at her, or if that runt touches her in a way I don’t like, I won’t hesitate to put my foot down.”

For emphasis, he stomped his foot on the cavern floor, creating a few cracks in the ground as dust fell from the ceiling around them.

“Understood,” Blaze said, as the reverberations subsided. It was better than she’d expected him to grant, “Thank you for your kindness.”

With a bow, Blaze turned and began to leave. One last chance, then.

“Wait. How is Ember?”

“Pouty,” spoke the back of Blaze’s head. “She misses you very much.”

“Please let her know…” Torch said, his voice quivering and him hoping she wouldn’t notice, while perhaps also hoping that she did. “I miss her as well.”

“Consider it done.”

Torch remained standing tall until his mate was completely out of the cave.

As soon as Blaze was gone, he collapsed on his stomach, and let out a disappointed sigh. Couldn’t she talk to him about why she was so upset? Then again, why wasn’t he any good at talking about what he’d done wrong, or better yet, apologize for it. Maybe he simply wasn’t ready to let go. They’d forgive each other someday, he hoped. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.

Little did either dragon know that day would come sooner than they expected it to.

Chapter 17: Legends of Equestria: Flash Magnus

Author's Note

Fair warning, this chapter and the next few chapters deal with death and violence. To keep this from feeling too jarring, I'm giving you folks a heads up now. Nothing gory or explicit, just a different beat from the usual tone of the story. There is also a cute pony in this chapter.

Shout-out to Little-Draco, for letting me use the name Maliek.

Chapter 17: Legends of Equestria: Flash Magnus

Windy Whistles had just finished tucking her daughter into her bed, before giving the little pegasus her favorite stuffed tortoise. Her daughter happily snuggled the toy, before her large eyes looked towards her mother as if expecting something. That something was a story before bed.

“Alright,” she said with a sigh. Her father wasn’t home yet, so maybe it was fair that she got a story to compensate. “Which do you want to hear?”

“Flash Magnus!” The little pegasus chirped, wings flaring in excitement. It was her favorite story, as it had action, adventure, and even romance though she wouldn’t dare admit it.

“Of course.” Windy sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the book of legends from the nightstand, the more child appropriate version, and began to read.

Flash Magnus was but a private when he first entered the Royal Legion, under the leadership of Ironhead the Courageous. During a trip through the Dragon Lands, two of his fellow comrades had been captured by dragons. Not wishing to leave them behind, he offered to distract the dragons, giving his comrades a chance to rescue the captured soldiers.

Knowing his plan to be too dangerous to attempt by himself, Ironhead gave him the fire proof shield, Netitus. With the shield at his side, and his skills at his disposal, Flash Magnus flew circles around the dragons, dodging any bites and slashes from their claws, and blocking their fire breath with his shield. While the stallion was swifter than his pursuers, he could not lose them.

Fortunately, Ironhead, at the suggestion of Nimbus Dash, formed a colossal storm cloud for Magnus to fly into. Once the stallion saw what his comrades had done, he led the dragons into the storm and his companions unleashed a torrent of lightning upon them. A single taste of lightning was all it took to drive the dragons back to their caves. Flash Magnus emerged from the storm cloud not soon after. He was hailed as a hero by the legion, and for his bravery, gifted Netitus. His name became synonymous with Bravery, and he was forever known as an Equestrian Legend.

Spike always enjoyed visiting his Grandpa Furnace. His hoard had some interesting treasures that Spike was allowed to marvel at, and his grandfather let him have an extra snack at times, even if he desired a rarer gemstone. Furnace’s stories captivated him, even though most of what the old wyrm said was nothing more than a few mumbles. However, today had been different during Spike's visit. The whelp didn’t know it, but Furnace had been on edge the entire day.

Dragons had a habit of curling around things that were precious to them, things that they wanted to protect, and Furnace was no different. He curled not around his hoard though, rather he curled around Spike himself. It was subtle though; Spike was given a very large circle to play in and was allowed to do as he desired to an extent. Furnace would sniff the air and growl at the scent of meadows. He scanned the cave before his eyes settled down on Spike. With a mumble he forced himself to relax.

“Turns out the Dragon Lord’s a big jerk,” Spike said as he pulled out an old helm from his grandfather’s hoard. It was much too big for him to wear, as much as he wanted to. Tossing the trinket back into the hoard, he continued his rant. “He’s basically torturing Garble for fighting with Ember, even though her mom gave him this really cool knife and said he could!”

It had been two weeks since Garble received news that he and Ember could play together again, yet Torch would still order Garble to do manual labor of some sort. Push ups if he pushed Ember a bit too hard, sit ups if she ever tripped and fell chasing him, squats if it was cloudy that day or if Garble nipped her, and a myriad of other exercises if the wind blew in a direction Torch hated or if he just needed to bark an order at someone.

Furnace grumbled something that only Spike could understand.

“They don’t really fight. Garble doesn’t like hitting girls, so he goes super easy on Ember.”

Furnace grumbled out a good, and continued listening to his grandson.

“Other than that, nothing’s too different. Garbles out with Smolder and Dad, looking for treasure. Think they’ll find something as cool as his knife?” Spike listened as Furnace grumbled a response. “Yeah, mama said it was super rare, and that you needed to have priests make it. Hey, this is like Garble’s!” Spike happily chirped, pulling out a white-silver shield. Its surface glittered like it was made of stars, reminding Spike of his brother’s knife.

Furnace tensed seeing the shield in Spike’s grip, but he soon relaxed. Spike was his grandson, not some random dragon going through his hoard, and the lad knew better than to steal, especially from family.

Spike found an inscription on the shield’s backside. “Grandpa Furnace, who’s Coal Ironscale?”

Furnace muttered the answer.

“Oh! So, how many greats would that make him?” Spike asked. “I guess it’s just one less than yours. Are there other aunts and uncles I don’t know about? What happened to them?”

Furnace grumbled that he’d tell Spike when he was older. There was no sense in ruining the boy’s innocence just yet with his old stories. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and caught a whiff of a very familiar scent. He scanned the cave once more, before his eyes narrowed on his grandson. His claw extended and he gripped Spike by his tail, lifting him up and bringing him close. He inhaled deeply before asking in a cracked, but clear voice, “Why do you smell like that?”

“Like what?” Spike asked, confused. He’d taken a lava bath right before visiting, so he should smell clean.

“You smell of ponies,” He said with a low growl.

Spike thought for a moment. Was it because he slept curled around his book at night? “Maybe it’s my book. It’s about a dragon! Dad said a pony made it.”

Furnace’s ears twitched and his eyes narrowed. “You own things made by those vile little creatures? Do your parents have no sense in them!?”

“What’s wrong with pony books?”

“What’s-!” Furnace paused. He could feel the powerful emotions welling up inside of him, about to explode in a terrifying display. Unwarranted was the best word to use for that. Spike had done nothing wrong, just something naive and somewhat foolish. “Heathspike, how much do you know about equines?”

“Mama says I should be careful around them, but that’s not so different from other dragons. Grandma Topaz says that there aren’t that many bad ponies anymore, so it’s not like I’m going to meet one.”

The way he was talking about those filthy creatures was too cavalier for Furnace’s liking. And here he wanted to preserve his grandchild’s innocence and naivety. A foolish thought, made worse by what the nonsense that the shaman had been filling his head with. Furnace could already imagine those monsters taking advantage of such innocence, before springing a trap on Spike. The thought of what they’d do to him sent a familiar pang of dread through his gut. The story he could tell would likely frighten him, but it was better to have a frightened and careful grandchild than a dead one.

“Heathspike,” he said, calming himself as he placed Spike down on the ground. “Why don’t I tell you a story about a pony called Flash Magnus?”

At this, Spike scooted closer. He was always willing to hear a story. Furnace told him how over a thousand years ago, a group of ponies came into their lands. At first, the dragons thought nothing of them, as they were small and fragile looking creatures. That all changed the moment two ponies happened upon a vacant cave and lined their pockets with precious, refined platinum. The owners of the cave were out, christening their third whelp, however, they returned just in time to catch the thieves.

“The equines were brought before the Dragon Lord, Maliek, and argued that they were ignorant of the fact that the treasure was owned, as is the hoard had burst from the ground. They were sentenced to death for their crimes, but before their sentence could be carried out, a pegasus named Flash Magnus saved the thieves whilst evading dragons by using a fireproof shield. The two dragons that had been wronged chased the winged nuisance into a titanic storm cloud and met their end. The lightning the ponies called forth seared their scales and scarred their bodies, nearly crippling them. The two had only enough strength to return home where they passed.”

There was a churning in Spike’s stomach as he listened. He knew of death, but so far it was only something that he’d heard of in stories. Usually, an evil pony queen met her end after being cruel to a princess, or a wicked dragon was struck down after enslaving a village or stealing gold and a girl. A mother and a father dying because they chased two thieves? He couldn’t even comprehend it.

“Many of us wished that had been the end of it,” Furnace said solemnly, making Spike’s eyes widen in disbelief, “but not soon after they left did they return. No one knows why, just that they did so carrying two slain dragons clad in paladin armor.” Furnace growled, embittered by the memory. “The skies were darkened by their arrival, and dragons learned to fear ponies, however, none of those monsters were as frightening as Tiamat’s Angels.”

“Who are Tiamat’s Angels?” Spike asked, his voice shaking.

“They were a group of five specific Dragon Slayers. They culled us by the dozens, each with their own talents for slaying. The Slayers Ironhead and Bella Breeze, the dragon mutilators. They injured dragons in ways they would never recover, Bella with her blasted knives, Ironhead with a damn hammer. If a dragon was lucky enough to survive an encounter with them, they were often rendered blind, flightless, or limping for the rest of their lives. Worse was Nimbus Dash, the Lightning Caller. She commanded storms, sending out bolts of lightning towards our paladins, searing and melting their scales, bringing them to their knees. Then, there was the Dragon Piercer himself: Flash Magnus. Some call him the first Slayer, but he’s just the fool that perfected the art of killing us. Using a spear, he struck dragons down like a farmer harvesting wheat, littering these lands with our corpses. That dog should have met his end the moment he came back into our lands, but it seemed Tiamat and Concordia had come to an agreement with one another, and blessed him with longevity.”

“Concordia?” Spike had known of Tiamat, sure, but this was the first he’d ever heard of Concordia.

“She’s the goddess that created those wretched ponies. Do not think much of her, she’s as beneath us as the ground is. The pony you must concern yourself with was the vilest of the group: Grimhoof the Egg Butcher. That vile, cowardly speck of filth wiped out half a generation of dragons before any of his victims had a chance to take their first breath.” His brows knitted together, he bared his fangs, and small whisps of fire escaped his maw as he spoke. “The others had the honor to face those that could fight back, but him? He attacked dragons that couldn’t even cry out for help. If there is any justice in this world, he’s burning in Tiamat’s pit.”

“He attacked eggs?” Spike asked, trying to comprehend the action. He’d heard his mother talk about eggs, saying that it was impossible for a dragon to look at one and feel anything but love and joy in their hearts, knowing that each one carried in it a hatchling ready and anxious to see the world. He didn’t even think it was possible to attack one.

“He-” his voice hitched, and his legs trembled. Calming himself, he continued. “He did worse than just attack them, Heathspike. Much, much worse.” Furnace could recall every moment of the day he heard the news. How frightened he had been concerning his own whelps, the weeping and despondent mothers, the enraged fathers that went on the warpath knowing that they failed to protect their progeny. Worse were the sight of the broken eggs. The mere memory twisted his insides, and brought tears to his eyes.

“So, did the ponies win?” Spike asked.

“No,” Furnace said firmly, “because we refused to let them conquer us. It was our clan, the Ironscales, that sent fear into their hearts. Nimbus could not strike us with lightning, as they had no need for metal armor or weapons. One of her attacks against us backfired on her, blinding her in one eye. Bella Breeze and Ironhead could not harm us either, as our hides were too strong and our bodies stronger. Magnus could only hide behind his pathetic shield, his spear useless to him. When Grimhoof tried to fight, he quickly found himself outmatched. It was Coal that obtained some justice for his victims; When the two fought, he slashed out his left eye. Had it not been for a legion of ponies intervening, he would have finished the job.” Furnace smiled, recalling one of the few prideful memories in a long period of darkness and sorrow, like a fleeting cool breeze in a scorching desert. “The Scourge of Equine they called our clan! Drakes futilely wished for an ability like ours, dragonesses flocked to court the clan’s sons, and the Dragon Lord himself offered us boons for our service. For one moment we were even considered Mythic Dragons.”

The term lit a fire of curiosity in Spike. Despite how horrible and disturbing the story was, he couldn’t help but feel comforted knowing that his adoptive clan arrived like knights, and fought back the invaders. “What are Mythic Dragons?” he asked.

“Members of a dragon clan so old, so powerful that they were said to be a mere step down from Bahamut’s might! We Ironscales knew better though, we were merely warriors in the right place at the right time. Some thought that this was mere happenstance, others thought it part of a grand scheme that Bahamut had enacted, that the stars had aligned and we were where he needed us. No matter the reason, we fought and halted any movement from the ponies for a time.” Furnace’s smile fell, as he recalled what happened next, how one little discovery the ponies made changed everything.

“However, Tiamat decided to play a cruel trick on us, and led Magnus to discover just how powerful platinum is once refined. Using the armor from the paladins they’d slain, Magnus forged a spear and with it, slew Coal when they met on the battlefield. Seeing that he’d done the impossible with his new weapon, he and his legion quickly grew enamored with the material. His ilk plundered abandoned caves for the metal, while stealing treasure from our hoards, creating more and more spears, arming their best soldiers with them to cut us down.”

Spike tensed, his wide eyes filling with dread. He recalled how Garble’s knife easily harmed their father, and that was just to show them that platinum could be dangerous. Knowing there existed spears meant to kill Ironscales made him feel vulnerable. “What happened then?”

“We lost many sons to the equine, to Magnus especially. However, their sacrifices had not been in vain. Scores of equines were lost to our forces, and soon they retreated to their little haven, Equestria. For whatever reason, Maliek ordered us to let them be once they left. For Coal’s heroism, I was given a shield to remember him by, the shield you hold now. We dragons slowly recovered, as did the Ironscale clan, though our numbers were a fraction of what they were. Of the numerous Ironscales sent into battle, only three survived the onslaught, one of them being Sulfur Ironscale, my eldest. He begot a son, who begot a son, who begot a son until finally your father came into the world, who with your mother brought your siblings into the world and took you into our clan. Understand, I’m not telling you these things just to frighten you, Heathspike. I lost too many children to those bastards; I do not wish to lose any of you.”

“I understand. Grandpa, are all ponies that bad?” Spike asked. “Mama says that they don’t live that long, maybe all the bad ones are already gone.”

Hope. Such a powerful, dangerous feeling that a dragon can have. “No doubt a sentiment from Topaz. It’s possible. You need to understand that just because something looks adorable and harmless, doesn’t mean that it is. If you ever meet a pony, promise me you will be cautious.”

Spike nodded and crossed his heart. “Do I need to get rid of my book?”

“No, but you shouldn’t go searching for them, not if it brings you anywhere near ponies.”

“Okay.” Furnace seemed to be satisfied with the answer and relaxed, allowing Spike to go about his foraging.

Part of Spike wanted to believe that nothing in his grandfather’s story could happen in his lifetime, especially since the incident was well over a thousand years ago. Unfortunately, the little dragon would be proven wrong in just one day.

The little pegasus let out a squeaky yawn. “What happened next?” She asked, struggling to keep her eyelids open. Windy smiled, knowing it was just a matter of time before she fell asleep.

“As the Legion finished its mission, and began to return home, two dragons attacked them right before they could enter the dragon lands. Despite being clad in the legendary metal, mithril, a metal whose origins only the dragons know, the legion easily defeated them. Magnus brought the two before the Dragon King, demanding that they be let through without harm coming to them. The king refused and attempted to capture him, but he evaded and rejoined his comrades. A long battle occurred, with Flash Magnus attempting to break through the Dragons, but they held fast and lasted until two more legends joined them, Rock Hoof and Mage Meadowbrook. These ponies helped cure a princess of a fatal disease, and as a reward the Royal Legion were given safe passage back to Equestria.”

Windy looked up from her book, and saw her daughter fast asleep. “Goodnight, Scootaloo,” she said, giving her adoptive daughter’s forehead a kiss. She put the book away, turned off the lights, and went for the door. She paused before taking her last step to look at her daughter, the covers rising and falling with every breath she took. Smiling, she silently closed the door, and waited for her husband and eldest daughter, Rainbow Dash, to return home from their convention.

Garble was certain that he’d be disappointed for the rest of the day; that he was about to go home in defeat, but fortune had smiled down on him. As he dug his last hole for the day in the wasteland, he hit metal. Buried in the dirt and in desperate need of polishing was an old shield. The shield was bronze in color, with a strange winged-star sigil etched in the front. It was bigger than he expected, not something he could wield now, but when he was older. If nothing more, he could use it as a lava board. What a lucky find it was.

Chapter 18: Slayers

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 19: Royal Summit

It was something out of a nightmare, one that she was begging to wake up from. Gemstone was still trying to come to terms with what happened. Eighteen ponies had raided their cave two hours ago. Spears were thrown, spells were fired, her father, her mother, her brothers, all injured or worse. She put a claw up to her mouth and fought the urge to vomit. Why had she been unharmed?

She looked into the darkness of her master’s cave, where her brother’s cries could be heard. Why had a spear been thrown through Slicer? Why had a spear shattered her baby brother’s egg? Why wasn’t she helping Slicer? Gemstone took a step forward, only to be stopped by another dragon.

“Let them work,” he told her.

He was older than she, but only slightly. Topaz had sent for help upon seeing Slicer brought in. Gemstone could only remember the phrase ‘emotionally unstable’ before three dragons came. This dragon, and two other apprentices, had been the ones to answer Topaz’s call.

Why was she still alive? She recalled telling Slicer to run as fast as he could. She had fought her best, killing at least three of their attackers, while the rest scattered throughout the cave, hiding behind their fireproof shields. Had she been paying better attention, she likely would have seen Slicer running, trying to reach the cave-mouth and flee, only for a pony to get in his way and for him to quickly change course.

The rest was a blur. The only other thing she could remember was a dazed and confused unicorn lobbing a spear at one of them, but it had missed her and her parents. Not Slicer, though.

It had gone through his shoulder and into the egg, pinning both to the ground, right at the cave-mouth. Had she kept that pony occupied, perhaps both could have escaped. Had she been stronger, had she been better, this would not have happened.

But it did, and the world went red for her. How many did she kill? She didn’t know. Many died after her baby brother was murdered. But some managed to survive.

In total, five ponies remained, spared only because they hid inside a bubble that a unicorn conjured. Not even her claws could pierce it, try as she did. However, her father had picked the bubble, with ponies still inside of it, and stuffed them into a burlap sack. Heartbroken, Gemstone’s parents left for the pit, while she was given the task to find help for Slicer.

Why had the attackers even struck? Was it for their gold and jewels? But how did they know where to find them? Why were any of those vile pieces of dreck still alive?

A sharp cry from the cave brought her back to reality. She knew she couldn’t go into the cave, where she only would get in the way, but her brother was weeping, crying for his mother, for his father, anyone that could comfort him. She took a step forward, but the same older dragon who’d stopped her before held her back again. Gemstone fought in his grasp, to no avail, as she soon found herself restrained.

After hours, the screaming stopped, replaced by the sound of weeping. Two dragons walked out from the cave, pouring cleaning solution on their claws.

“The wounds closed, nothing important was hit– thank Bahamut. You can go in and see him, but–”

Gemstone tore herself away from the older dragon and rushed past the nurse.

In the cave, she found her brother sitting upon a stone slab, his torso and shoulder wrapped in bloody bandages. Her voice hitched and she covered her mouth, fighting back tears. She knelt before him and cupped his face, using her thumb to wipe away the water streaming down cheeks.

“Slicer, how are you feeling?”

“It hurts.” He sniffled. “Gemstone, di-did you fix O-Onyx? That spear hit him too. He needs help.”

Dread filled her stomach. He had to know, or perhaps he was in denial. Yet, his eyes were pure, concerned. He actually thought there was a chance.

“Who’s Onyx?” asked Topaz.

“Our little brother,” Gemstone said, forcing down tears. The name had been the source of many small arguments when Pala had first laid the egg. Onyx was the name decided upon if it was a boy, Pearl if it was a girl. As far as Slicer was concerned, though, Onyx was their sibling’s name. “It was his egg that they– that they–”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, but Topaz understood. She could only close her eyes, silently mourning the lost hatchling.

“Slicer, there’s no fixing what happened to Onyx,” Gemstone said, grasping his shoulders.

“But healers–”

“We can fix injuries, but what happened to Onyx, it’s more than just a wound. He’s gone, Slicer. Dead.”

“Dead? But I was supposed to make sure he was okay. I was going to teach him about being a dragon.”

“I know, Slicer, I know. I’m sorry.” Gemstone saw his lips tremble, before burying his face in her chest. She could only wrap her arms around her little brother as he wept.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered repeatedly. “I’m sorry.”

Gemstone held her brother and tried to soothe him, but an anger was growing inside of her. Why was he apologizing, as if he’d been the one to run their sibling through with a spear? Slicer had acted nothing but gentle around the egg, loving, caring. It had been those damn ponies. Gemstone began to recount all the times she’d been warned how dangerous those animals could be, but she hadn’t listened. She’d chalked the warnings up to an old wyrm's old tale, yet here she was living through that story and it was just as real a hell as they’d described it.

Equestria had spawned creatures that had no qualms with murdering children. If it could produce such unnatural creatures, better that it and every pony be burned to ash.

Kalamet wondered what a mother could do when her unborn child was murdered, and another had been injured. Pala could only mourn. They were in a vacant cave, miles away from theirs as it was still stained with the aftermath of the attack. Gemstone and Slicer were staying with Topaz, to keep an eye on his son’s wound and to allow them privacy. He held his mate as she wept, speaking incoherently.

It was said that when a mother lost a child, the loss was like having her heart ripped out of her. If this was how a mother typically grieved, those mothers were the lucky ones. Pala was broken. Her mind, heart and soul seemed to have shattered. And how could they not have? She was still hovering over the remains of the egg. Apologizing to it, wishing that she could have protected it better, showering it with her now-futile hopes for what it’d bring into the world.

This was all his fault. He was their father. He should have protected his sons better, he should have cleared a path for them, kept the ponies’ focus on him, something, anything. It was his one of two responsibilities he had as a parent. Yet, he couldn’t hit a single one of the attackers with his fire, and they had all evaded his slams, save for the pony that harmed his children. But even then, it was too late. Slicer had been stabbed, and his newborn had been killed.

He didn’t cry, he just felt empty inside. The longer his mate wept, the void within him was slowly filled with rage. Onyx had limitless potential, and it was stripped away in an instant. Never would the hatchling take breath, crawl, or even walk thanks to them. He’d never know joy or sorrow, anger or love, humiliation or pride. He’d never know his parents or siblings, and how much they loved him. He’d heard that in the old days, something like this would lead a dragon to raze a city. He’d always thought it foolish. After all, only a murderer was to blame for a murder.

Now it was foolish for a different reason. How could a dragon, a father, stop at just one city? That entire wretched land should burn, and he should be the one burning it.

“Kalamet, it’s time.”

He turned his head, and saw Torch standing at the mouth of the cave. With him were five other dragons. Flare Ironscale, Razor Windwing, Galant Razorback, Gladius Moonstone, and Golem Rockfist. Behind them five teenage dragons, holding five platinum chains that led to five bound–

His eyes narrowed into thin strips as they honed in on the ponies.

“Murderers!” Kalamet roared upon seeing the chained and muzzled captives. He released Pala, leaping in front of her. He opened his mouth, as the ponies thrashed and let out muffled screams of terror while fire filled Kalamet’s maw.

However, Torch sprung forth and clamp Kalamet’s jaws shut. The Dragon Lord let out his own roar, mightier than his opponent’s, and slammed Kalamet to the ground, eliciting a horrified shriek from Pala. Before she could intervene, Flare and Razor restrained her, careful not to harm her in their grasp.

The two bereaved parents roared and wept as they struggled against their fellow dragons, but it was futile. Soon they became still, though Pala still shed tears.

“What kind of Lord are you, Torch? Why are they still alive?” Kalamet sneered once Torch had released his jaws. “They attacked us, murdered one of my children, skewered another! If it was your daughter, they would be smears on the floor by now!”

“Do not invoke my daughter, and you do not disrespect me with such accusations,” Torch growled. “They’re restrained. Non-threats. I can understand what you’re going through, but you are a dragon. Act like one. We are going to meet with Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria. She will see who the perpetrators are. She will see who was harmed. Will see everything her subjects did to your family, and to him,” he bellowed, pointing to the egg’s remains. “You will have retribution, you have my word, but we do it properly, or you face me.”

Kalamet nodded, calming himself. “What of my mate, my children? I can’t just leave them.”

“Galant, Gladius, protect this cave, and Kalamet’s family, at any cost.” Torch ordered. The dragons nodded.

“What of that wench,” Kalamet asked, “Celestia?”

“Like I said, I’ve sent for her.”

Twilight Sparkle was a studious, responsible, and overall pleasant filly. However, like all things in Princess Celestia’s life, there was a ‘but’ attached to her loved ones.

Luna was a kind and compassionate mare, but she had been corrupted by dark magic and had to be banished to the moon. Discord was a charming rogue who’d given her some of the best memories in her long life, but his good looks, witty jokes, and dexterous silver tongue were something of a mask for his more toxic personality. And Starswirl had been a wise, powerful mage, but he was also an egotist who knew everything and therefore should never be questioned.

Even the nation and her subjects had a ‘but’. Twilight’s ‘but’ was that she was addicted to her studies. No, addicts had a better time handling withdrawal than Twilight did when sequestered from her books.

Contemplating the quietly studious filly, the lone occupant of the space that served as their private classroom at the Palace, away from the School for Gifted Unicorns, Celestia contemplated how she’d tried to push the filly to make friends, yet always her pupil was adamant about focusing on her studies.

Her schoolmates? They were not worth her time.

“Moondancer was reading from the wrong book, Princess,” went one memorable retort, “and then Lemon Hearts got her head stuck in a flask! That shouldn’t even be physically possible; she was so clumsy that she ignored physics!”

Blade Sentry’s little brother, Flash? The armor that he was wearing, which was ten sizes too big for him, had been obtained via nepotism, and Twilight took issue with that. Blade had come to his superiors and Celestia herself to ask permission to let his little brother dress up in armor borrowed from the armory, as the little colt dreamt of being in the Royal Guard when he was older, and Blade wanted to do something nice for his birthday.

As she could recall, Celestia had gone a step further, pulled a few strings and allowed it on the condition that Flash Sentry would guard her and Twilight during their lessons. In all honesty, her reasoning was that it would be cute to see a small colt don armor meant for grown stallions, and it was. A small part of her thought that Twilight might make a friend, but it still hadn’t worked.

“He hasn’t done a bit of research on proper procedure! He doesn’t know where the panic room is, the hurricane maneuver, or any of the generals that served in the last century! Worst of all, he got bored and asked if I wanted to play tag while I was studying! Who does that?”

A normal colt, Celestia thought to herself. Young Timber Spruce, who helped his elder sister out in the Royal Gardens, fared no better.

“He was just planting the azaleas all over the place! He should have planted them left to right, back to front! There’s a system! That way, he doesn’t step on any, but no, he just went around planting them! Plus, we then asked if I wanted to play hide and seek halfway through the day. There were still flowers to plant. What kind of colt thinks it’s okay to stop working when he gets bored?”

The max which Twilight had reached regarding friends were her older brother and her pet pogona lizard she’d hatched during her entrance exam. It still shocked Celestia that Prince Blueblood, of all ponies, proved able to make a friend before Twilight. She didn’t know who exactly Apple Jewel was, but if Blueblood wrote home from boarding school saying she was a nice filly, she was more than welcome to join the family for dinner at the castle.

Yes, Twilight’s ‘but’ was grating at times. Yet, despite all her flaws, Celestia always knew that she could count on Twilight’s thirst for knowledge to easily manoeuvre the filly when needed.

An armored stallion burst into the room, breathing heavily.

“Princess, there’s a–” he paused upon seeing Twilight, who’d previously had her nose stuck in a book at the desk, now looking up irritatedly. “There’s a small group of messengers wanting to speak with you, they’re awfully pushy. Worse, the scroll is stamped with an orange-red seal.”

Celestia had several code-words for incidents befalling the castle. Orange-red meant dragons at the gates, huffing and puffing, and getting ready to blow the castle down. She sighed, knowing what was coming next.

“She doesn’t have time for that, we’re studying!” Twilight snapped. The little filly stood on her tiny legs, puffed out her little chest, and inflated her cheeks. She was the cutest little filly in the world. “She made a hoof-promise that I get her two hours a day!”

“Oh, Twilight, I know I promised, but as Princess, I have other responsibilities,” Celestia said, earning a rather disappointed look from her beloved pupil. “I know how it must feel. How about you go to the historical archives and read a few scrolls instead?”

The book Twilight was holding in her aura dropped to the floor and her eyes widened like saucers. “What?”

“Did I stutter? Perhaps you’re not ready for it then.” Celestia asked, jokingly, a smile and giggle gracing her lips. Unfortunately, Twilight did not understand jokes, not without having them explained to her.

“No, no, I’m sorry!” Twilight said, grabbing Celestia’s foreleg. “But why?”

“Think of it as an apology. Also, I want you to be a teacher for a day,” Celestia said. “Get Timber and Flash and have them read with you.”

She watched as Twilight’s face turned to disgust and the filly stuck out her tongue. “Do I have to?”

“Depends. Do you want to read historical articles?”

“More than anything!” Twilight said loudly, with a desperation found only in ponies on trial.

“Then yes, you need to. Have Rock Solid escort you,” Celestia said, using her hoof to push Twilight towards the armored stallion.

Twilight groaned, but reluctantly obeyed. She was a very disciplined little filly.

The door closed behind the two, and Celestia allowed herself a victorious smile. Finding both colts could easily eat up an hour, and Twilight could easily spend the rest of the afternoon trying to teach them. It would be long enough to handle her uninvited guest.

Her smile had long since faded, replaced by a dignified expression, when she reached the throne room, going through one of the many backdoors to which Celestia and Luna alone had the secret at the Palace. From some place unseen above the throne, Celestia materialized, gliding gracefully down to her seat.

The three dragons waiting did not look impressed by her elegant appearance. While they were not the largest dragons, in order for them to fit inside these walls, they were still good-sized and imposing. She could hear their low growls from across the room, each dragon glaring at her guards. Her guards returned the glare in kind.

She did not need this to spiral into a brawl.

“Leave us,” Celestia commanded quietly. “I’ll talk with them alone.”

The guards looked at each other, the dragons, and Celestia. Not wanting to risk upsetting their monarch or the emissaries, they quickly left, but not before shooting the dragons one last look, as if silently warning them to remain civil before the Princess of the Sun.

“I’ll dispense with the pleasantries,” said Celestia, once she had her guests to herself. “I’m sure you all have better places to be than the ponylands. What does the Dragon Lord wish?”

“Lord Torch wishes to discuss why dragonslayers invaded our kingdom and smashed an egg.”

The color drained from Celestia’s face as her stomach twisted into knots. “Oh.”

She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to show shock, or dismay, or any other emotion she’d dearly want to show upon hearing that a child was murdered. To her, such a show may be decency, but while the dragons were passionate creatures, she knew they had different standards than ponies. A show of compassion would not endear her to them. People who prided themselves on strength disdained pity.

“And where does Torch want to meet?”

“Sardior's Pit. He’ll be waiting.”

Celestia nodded. “Sardior’s Pit. Let me escort you three out of the castle. They’ll be less of a commotion.”

The moment the emissaries were outside the Palace walls and took to the skies, Celestia swiftly returned back inside to prepare. At least Twilight would be happy to know she was going to have access to the archives for several whole days now.

The Dragon Lord and his entourage had waited nearly a week in Sadir’s Pit, and slowly were starting to lose patience. The only saving grace were the messengers that Torch had employed as intermediaries. Twice daily, these messengers would come to give the dragons news of their families. This helped ease their minds and steel their nerves for the coming of Princess Celestia

Much to Torch’s dismay, Blaze had declined additional protection. Not because she was still mad at him, rather, it was just so she could keep the children calm. After all, if everything was fine, and Smog was there just to ease Flare’s mind, why should there be further need for protection?

Not just that, but Ember’s reaction to their presence had been a rather humorous response.

The messenger sighed. “She said that we weren’t needed, because she already had a paladin.”

“I never assigned her a paladin. Who–?” Torch’s eyes went wide, before scowling when he heard Flare lightly chuckle. He muttered that the messengers were dismissed, then he grumbled a quiet order to Flare, silencing his dragon. “Keep in mind, not everyone can spare a laugh, Ironscale.”

Kalamet had secluded himself from the rest of the group, hovering over the broken eggshell.

He’d barely moved an inch since arriving, barely eaten a single gem. Tears kept steadily streaming down his cheeks. He would lash out if he heard them laughing or joking with one another. None of them took his anger towards them personally, as they only needed to imagine the egg being one of theirs to understand where he was coming from. After all, their laughter and joy came from their children, the very source of Kalamet’s sorrow.

However, there was another source of anger. The bound equine.

There was a teenage dragon assigned to each pony, all under strict orders to make sure nothing happened to the ponies, accidentally or otherwise, until after Celestia and Torch had parlayed. The reward for doing so was a small mound of gems each. Failure meant death, simply because any other punishment meant nothing to dragons who would love to kill a slayer, be it a sense of justice or some form of twisted pleasure.

Torch didn’t know how Celestia would react if her detained subjects were executed without a trial. He feared no dragon, but Celestia was no dragon. He didn’t even fully believe she was an equine. Legends had it that she and her sister were aspects of the red-maned alicorn herself, given flesh. How was anyone to fight something like that? He’d also heard the rumors, and if any of them were true, he could only imagine what Celestia would do to his people, even if those she’d fought were a night-demon that her sister had become and a wretched king of darkness.

Such a cold and calculating monarch would have no issues commanding her armies to attack them, their caves and worst of all, the nursery.

It was pointless for her to feel responsible, but that didn’t stop Celestia from wondering what she could have done to stop the smashing of an egg. The answer was nothing, and part of her hated it only slightly less than the reason for her trip.

“Dragonslayers,” Celestia seethed as she made her way through the scorching wastes of the Dragonlands. “Are they trying to start a war?”

After the emissaries had departed, she’d then spent hours overseeing foundry work, melting down all mithril spears in her military armory into mithril ingots.

Platinum, she’d said to herself. That was the dragon term for mithril. A curious cultural juxtaposition, given the name of a famed princess of the old Unicorn Kingdom. In any case, the prepared ingots had been tossed in a chest and carried by her most loyal and trusted guards. It couldn’t bring the child back, but it was something.

‘Blood money’, was the grim reflection Celestia didn’t want to hear at the back of her mind.

She was followed by several armored stallions, though not too large of a group, only enough to show she could fight if need be. Dragons were volatile at times. Any number of things threatened to set them off on a good day. Showing up with an army, after her subjects had invaded their lands? She’d be shocked if there wasn’t a call for blood. She prayed the gifts she prepared could calm the dragons, if only slightly.

Celestia took a deep breath. She would get through this, most everyone would return home, and both ponies and dragons alike should be able to put this awful tragedy behind them. Not that some of the troops shared her concerns. They were too busy bragging about how easy it’d be to take on a dragon, how glorious it would be to fell one in combat.

She’d never heard anything more foolhardy in her life. They thought this was a game. That everyone had hit points, and dragons gave them a turn to swinging their swords. Fighting a dragon was a fool's errand, Celestia knew that as fact. Torch and his subjects were likely itching for a fight with Equestria now. She was confident that if war broke out Equestria would prevail, but at what cost? The dragons could reduce their nation to ash if given the chance, leaving the survivors with a kingdom of dust. Scores of ponies would be felled before even one dragon would meet their end. She herself would need to be on the front lines just for them to have a chance.

No matter what, Celestia needed to keep the dragons, Torch especially, appeased. He was a dragon, and thus she didn’t want to know what they were capable of.

Air Break didn’t mind the chains too much, because he’d be out of them by the end of the day.

His crew, who cared? They’d flubbed this mission so badly that not only couldn’t they kill a few overgrown lizards and take a damned egg, they’d got captured and one of them smashed the target. That pony was currently a smear on a cavern floor. To make matters worse, the teenagers jeered and cursed at them, threw rocks and stones at their backs until a glare from one of the older dragons made them stop, and seemed to relish in telling them that after the ‘wimpy pony princess’ came, they would be torn apart. All he heard was the jabbering of teenagers. To respond with anything other than an eye-roll showed how in control a stallion was of himself.

None of that mattered though, because he had a plan to get out of this scott-free, live the rest of his days working, drinking, and shaking up with a couple of cute mares. All it would cost him was the other members of his crew. He wanted to chuckle to himself. The price might as well have been free.

A horn blared, drawing the attention of everyone present. Air Break allowed himself a small smile.

“Lads, bring those equines forward,” Torch ordered. “Next to me.” They obeyed without hesitation, leading some, dragging others to the proper point.

Celestia and her company descended into the quarry, with the princess leading. She soon reached the bottom and wasted no time approaching Torch, who straightened up, as if trying to appear even bigger than he already was. Their eyes met, and they both slightly tensed, each wondering what the other would do. The scorching air nipped at their skin and rasped at their throats with every breath they took, before finally, Celestia stopped, as did her guards.

“Lord Torch,” Celestia said, bowing her head.

“Princess Celestia,” Torch greeted, doing the same.

“You said that there were dragonslayers, and a broken egg. I assume that these are them?” She gestured towards the chained ponies.

“They are all that remain.”

“There were others?”

“There were. They assaulted a family, my subjects, and were killed for their troubles. Let’s not forget the main reason we are here, Celestia, your subjects speared a boy and an egg,” Torch said plainly.

No need to sugarcoat it. Dragons were attacked, and so they fought back. Celestia said nothing, silently contemplating what move to make next.

“Say something,” spoke a voice.

Kalamet slithered forth and got in front of Torch.

“Kalamet, know your place–”

“No,” Celestia interrupted. “Let him talk. Who am I speaking to?”

“Kalamet Steelspine,” said he. “Your subjects murdered my child.” His large claws gently placed the remains of the before the princess.

Celestia had to fight to keep her bile down. She wasn’t just looking at a broken egg. This had been a child waiting for their time to be born, to gaze upon the world. Yet, here they were before they could even form, dead. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

“You have my apologies. Truly.”

“I don’t want your empty platitudes,” Kalamet spat. “Why did your subjects murder my child?”

“That’s what I intend to find out.” Celestia looked at each of the chained equines. Although most of them were quaking, one lone stallion seemed cool as a cucumber. “Torch, have you questioned them?”

The Dragon Lord placed a hand on Kalamet’s shoulder, giving him a look.

Kalamet obtemperated, albeit reluctantly. “No. They were kept bound and gagged, unless fed.”

“Allow me, then. After that, you and I can discuss a suitable punishment.” Celestia’s horn ignited, and the captured stallions’ chains were taken from the dragons. With a single powerful tug acting as her command, the stallions stepped forward, sweat dripping down their foreheads, mouths as dry as the Dragonlands themselves. “Which one of you would like to speak first?”

The one stallion who seemed unafraid quickly stepped forward, almost eagerly.

Celestia unbound his muzzle, and allowed him to move his jaw for the first time that day. “Let us make this quick. State your name, and why you came here.”

“Name’s Air Break,” the stallion said calmly. “The pegasus there is Kickback, the unicorn is Blitz Bolt, the two earth ponies are Bracer and Anvil. We came here cos’ we were hired to get an egg for a collector and were promised a substantial reward for our efforts. The cave we attacked was the farthest cave from all the other dragons, and the closest to Equestria's border. Given that it had an egg, the thing we were hired to get, it guaranteed that we’d hit it. We never intended to break the damn thing, that was an honest mistake. That’s it, Princess.”

His comrades could only give him a very confused look. He hadn’t lied, and that was what worried them. Perhaps he had a plan? They waited to see what he would say next. However, he remained silent.

There was no part of the story, his cavalier attitude, that didn’t disgust and anger Celestia. There was fury in her eyes. The stallion was so matter-of-fact about his actions, it was like he was describing how he pulled out a weed in his yard. Her body shook, but she kept her body calm, she had to.

“Mistake,” she echoed, seething. “A child is dead, and another is injured. That is more than a mistake. Do any of you have anything to add?”

None of the stallions offered to speak. They believed Air Break had a plan to save them, they just needed to wait.

“Then that’s it.” Celestia said. “Kalamet, was it? I know you don’t want to hear this again, but I apologize for what befell you and your family. I know this won’t make up for it, but please, accept this offering of platinum as a token of peace.”

On cue, two stallions of the Guard placed down the chest and opened it to reveal its contents.

Kalamet’s eyes narrowed, and his tail smacked the chest away in frustration, the tip of his tail nearly hitting Celestia, who remained as calm and collected as when she first arrived. The platinum scattered about the quarry, and the chest shattered. Her guards began to rush forward, but stopped when Celestia extended her wing, shaking her head at them.

“Kalamet, control yourself!” Torch snarled. “Else, we will make you control yourself.” Flare, Razor and Golem all began to step forward. They could empathize with his plight, they understood his hatred for ponies. However, he was dealing with Princess Celestia herself. Hurting her could bring war, and they knew what that would mean for both sides. Blood.

“Please, Torch, he’s angry, and he has a right to be. Let him speak,” Celestia requested.

Torch was dumbfounded by the deathwish Celestia seemed to display, but allowed it, motioning for the others to be ready if Kalamet lost control again.

Celestia looked at Kalamet, with a dawning look of remorse. “Sir, what is it you want?”

“I want justice for my family, my children. Not metal, not apologies, not your righteousness.”

Celestia let out a sigh. She knew what that meant. It meant throwing the stallions to them for execution.

She dreaded the thought of sending any of the prisoners to their deaths. They were criminals to be sure, but they were also ponies. Sons, husbands, lovers, ponies with a small spark of light somewhere in them, or so she believed. Killing them would snuff that light out permanently.

There had been times where killing villains would have been the most prudent and understandable course of action. Her sister, Tirek, even Sombra. But every time, Celestia had stilled her hoof, sparing them in some way or another. It also helped that she’d been in control of their fates. It was Equestria that they’d wronged, and she was the guardian of Equestria. Deep down, she hoped to help them, that someday in the future, they could be changed, reformed.

Here it was not so. She and the villains were interlopers here. She had no power to decide their fates, not without incurring the wrath of a dragon. What would Kalamet do if she did demand their release? He would call for war. Would Torch want it? Most likely not. The better question was if Torch was needed. How powerful would Kalamet’s rallying cry be? How many parents like him would flock to him, how many dragons would be willing to attack them? How many dragons would it take to harm her subjects? The better question was, how much damage could just two or three dragons do?

She must have been silent for a long time, judging by the look of wrath that Kalamet had. She wanted to argue for their release, every fiber of her being was screaming to make a case for them, but it was futile. She couldn’t think of an argument.

“Then you will have it,” Celestia said, hiding the sorrow shrieking to be heard. “Torch, they are yours.”

The sentence was bordering on cruel, but the criminals were in the Dragonlands, and had committed crimes against dragons. It was only just that dragons carried out the punishment, as much as she personally detested what the punishment would be.

“Are you sure about that, Princess?” Air Break asked. “Because I think you overlooked one detail, the one where we were hired by someone, and do you want to know something funny? This is the second time they’ve tried to get an egg.”

Celestia stopped mid-step. It had to be a lie. If this had been the second time, why had no one heard about the first? Torch fared no better fear and anger welled up inside of him. Their minds began to race, and the monarchs could only think of one thing to say.

“Who hired you?” they asked the stallion in unison.

Air Break grinned. “Get me out of here, and I’ll think about talking.”

A captive, the pegasus, began to squeal, squirming in his bonds. Celestia quickly undid his muzzle, permitting him to breathe. “You mean us, right?” Kickback asked. He watched as his boss silently kept eyes on Celestia, “Boss, you mean us, right?”

“You will not release any of them!” Kalamet shouted, slamming his claws on the ground.

Instantly, Golem and Razor grabbed hold of the dragon before he could do anything else. He roared, breathing fire into the air as he was pulled back.

“Guy should learn to read the room,” Air Break tutted, “I’m the only one that’s gonna weasel out of this. He still gets the others.”

The pegasus paled. “What? Boss–”

“Shut it, Kickback. You lot flubbed this job. I’m not gonna go down for your incompetence.” He turned to Celestia, and smirked. “So, what’s it gonna be, Princess? It’s either I give you the name of my employer and he takes my place here, or I hang, and then everyone waits another few years for a third attempt. Because they want an egg, and will pay anything to get it.”

“Why can’t I just take one of them instead?” Celestia knew this stallion was a snake; she deeply wished for anyone else to be of use. But she knew this was a contingency he must have been saving for a time like this. She already knew what he was about to say.

“They don’t know the pony’s name or face. I do.”

“What makes you think I’d agree to something like this?” Torch asked him.

“Simple, they’re patient. They’re not gonna get caught, Princess Sunshine wouldn’t know where to start. So, they’ll just try again in a few years. Say your little girl meets a strapping young lad by then, lays an egg, maybe two. Do you want to risk a group like us aiming for her?”

Torch tried to speak, but images of Ember flooded his mind. He’d seen her hurt before, beaten even. He could easily picture renegades like these stallions creeping from the shadows, spears at the ready to slay Ember, her mate, and then steal her egg. Her child, his grandchild. How was a father supposed to consider taking such a risk? If asked the same question regarding their families, how many dragons would disagree?

The stallion was a simple snake, there were likely hundreds like him, but he didn’t seem stupid. He’d likely never come back to the Dragonlands after this. The one hiring them would try again though, so he was the greater threat.

Letting his head fall, Torch said, sorrow clear in his voice, “Celestia, you may take him, but in exchange, you give us the one that hired them.”

“You have my word,” Celestia agreed.

“Great. Can we start heading out, Princess?” Air Break asked. “It’s so hot out here, the heat might do things to my memory.”

He drew many glares from the ponies and two remaining dragons, but continued grinning. Celestia needed him for one little favor, so he was safe.

“Move out,” Celestia ordered, forcing the stallion's snout back into the muzzle and tightening it. She went ahead of the group out of sheer necessity. Just the mere sight of the stallion now boiled her blood. She’d wanted the criminals to be shown mercy; she despised what she’d got instead.

Kalamet roared and thrashed in Golem and Razor’s grip, cursing Celestia’s name, and Torch’s. Only when they were out of sight, was Kalamet released, allowed to fall to the ground.

“You lot,” Torch pointed to the teenagers. “Get them out of my sight, they’ll be dealt with later.” He turned to Kalamet once the teenagers had carried out the order. “I’ll have someone collect the platinum.”

“I don’t care about that damn metal. You let her take that murderer and leave,” Kalamet sneered, meeting Troch’s gaze.

“It’s a calculated trade,” Torch explained. “Someone tried to get an egg twice, I’m making sure that there is no third time.”

“If that wretch can be trusted.” Kalamet let loose a hollow chuckle. He’d heard the threat that the stallion made, he knew Torch was just worried about his fragile little girl. If it had been Ember speared, had the egg been Torch’s, he knew this would have been different.

Kalamet stood, eyes following the would-be trajectory of the pony princess and the slayer. He took a step forward, only for Torch to lay a hand on him.

“You will not even consider following them. That is an order.”

“And why should I listen to a cowardly, self-serving Lord like you?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Kalamet seemed to shrink, and Torch relaxed himself.

However, Flare’s eyes were locked on Kalamet’s claws. They slowly spread as far as they could, before Kalamet lunged at Torch. Flare’s next action was instinctual. After all, Torch was the Dragon Lord, and Flare was one of his subjects. What he was about to do he’d done time and time again.

It was a game to him, actually. He’d get between dragons, take a swipe meant for someone else, and then see if either wanted to continue, knowing there was a dragon with impenetrable scales.

However, those other dragons were not Steelspines.

Flare pushed Torch back, putting himself in the way of Kalamet’s claws. He felt Kalamet’s claws easily slice through his scales. It didn’t hurt like he thought it would have, at least not until he looked down at his chest. Through blurred vision, Flare saw four claw marks across his chest. He stumbled backwards, trying to find firm footing, only to fall on his side, blood slowly forming a puddle before him.

Kalamet attempted to fly off in an effort to follow Celestia. Yet Torch had regained his wits and, before Kalamet was out of reach, he lunged, grabbed the dragon’s tail, and pulled him back, throwing him onto the ground. Before Kalamet could push himself up, Torch tackled his disobedient subject and delivered blow upon blow to his head until he lost consciousness.

Once the rogue dragon was still, Torch stood. “Get this treasonous wretch out of my sight!” he barked at the other two dragons. He himself turned towards Flare, who lay crumpled on the ground, bleeding and breathing heavily.

“Enough whimpering, Ironscale, you’re a dragon,” Torch said, grabbing Flare by his bicep and wrapping the other’s arm over his neck, speaking with nigh the magical authority he could exercise over dragons as their rightful Lord.

Torch frowned to himself. He could have used the voice on Kalamet and it would have got the dragon back with less fuss, let alone consequence to the faithful Flare. Maybe he hadn't wanted to use it on a grieving father. Maybe his misuse of it on Blaze had left a mark on him.

Shaking his head softly, Torch only told Flare what a Dragon Lord should say.

“You don’t go down to a little claw swipe.”

A day had passed since the meeting with Celestia, but none other than Torch and company knew that. Torch trudged towards Flare’s cave, with the weakened dragon himself leaning on him for support. He’d taken his subject to a shaman. There, Flare’s wounds had been closed with platinum staples, and he had been given a large dose of medicine for pain. It would take a few weeks for him to heal and recover.

“I’ll see to it that Kalamet is punished for this,” Torch grumbled.

“Torch, just let it go. We treat it like a mistake and move on with our lives.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Steelspine was right to be angry with you. He wanted all those ponies, but when that slayer gave you a hypothetical, you just thought of your child, and made the trade.”

“And you’d blame me for that?” Torch hissed.

“No,” Flare said in a subdued tone, “because I thought of my children too. I would have made the same trade in a heartbeat.”

“Then why defend him?”

“Because had our children been harmed, would we have liked the trade?” said Flare. “Kalamet is in mourning. It’s hardly been a week since the attack. I’ll call him what he is, an emotional wreck, and an easily triggered one at that. You can add a treasonous wretch to the list. But he’s no Dog of Tiamat. Knowing what he’s been through, Bahamut would have mercy on him. Sardior would show mercy. I was the harmed dragon, and I’m asking for him to be shown mercy. Just this once.”

“Fine,” Torch grunted. “I owe you and your family that least much. Kalamet will lose the gift from Celestia though. He faces some punishment for this.”

“You can think of that on your own time though. I just want to see my family.”

That was a sentiment that Torch could agree with.

Chapter 20: Legends of Equestria: Mage Meadowbrook

There was an array of emotions which spread through the cave from the moment Torch entered with Flare. Joy and relief to begin with, but after taking one look at the injured patriarch of the Ironscales, their every emotion broke down into worry and anger.

“What happened!” Amber cried, rushing to her mate’s side and taking him from Torch.

Blaze was quick to assist her in leading Flare to a clear spot of the cave, so they could lay him on his side.

“Is he alright?” Blaze enquired while Amber looked Flare over, making sure no bones were broken and checking to make sure she hadn’t missed one wound, much to his chagrin and in disregard of his half-hearted protests.

Whenever Amber got concerned about her family, her grandmother’s lessons would kick in and she’d prove as skilled a healer as Topaz.

“I bet it was those ponies, wasn't it?” Smog sneered, keeping the children from crowding around Flare. “Come to try and finish what they started centuries ago! Torch, I hope you showed those equines what we dragons are made of!”

There were screams and fretful questions from the children, save for Spike, who simply looked at his father’s bandages, terrified, until Torch and Flare in unison shouted “enough!”, silencing the cave. Fortunately, no-one began to glow.

“I just had an accident,” Flare explained, taking Amber’s claws in his, thus ceasing her examinations. “That’s all. The ponies had nothing to do with this, Smog. I goaded Steelspine after a few drinks, and this is what happened.” He gave his children a look. “This is why we need to be careful about who we fight, and what we allow in those fights.”

The young Ironscales took the lesson to heart immediately, again save for Spike. He didn’t know why, but it felt to him as if his father was hiding something from them.

Nor was Spike the only one. Amber, Blaze, even Smog, all of the grown-ups could tell that Flare was lying. Flare could crack a joke at someone else’s expense, he was an Ironscale after all, but he wouldn’t goad a mourning father. That was going too far. Still, unsaid, they each simply assumed that his evasiveness was for the children’s sake, and left it at that.

“You’ll be okay, though, right?” Smolder asked.

“I’ll be just fine, Smolder,” said Flare. “Your grandmother does good work for dragons like me. There’s no need to worry.”

His response seemed to put her at ease for now.

“We will not take up any more of your time,” Torch rumbled, addressing Amber. “The old shaman said he needed his rest. I thank you for caring for my family while I was away. I am in your debt.”

“It was no problem,” Amber said modestly. Blaze and Torch bowed their heads to the Ironscales and left, taking an unusually silent Ember with them. No sooner than the Royal Family had gone, however, Amber let her shoulders sag and spoke in a quiet voice. “Smog? Could you do us a favor and take them out to play for a bit? I need some time to rest.”

Smog nodded soberly. Using his tail, he began to gently guide the whelps towards the outside, only for Spike to go deftly climb over it and scurry to his father’s side.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Spike asked, pressing his tiny claws against his father’s scales.

“I’ll be fine, Spike,” Flare repeated, his tone patient. “You go play, I insist. The best thing for me is to rest, that’s what Grandma Topaz said. When I’m better, you and I can show off our scars.”

Spike nodded, reassured, and hurried to a waiting Smolder and Garble. Once they were alone, Amber gazed at her mate very seriously.

“So, what really happened to you? Was it ponies? Please tell me that the slayers didn’t escape.”

“No,” said Flare. “It was Kalamet.”

Flare explained what had happened, sparing no detail. He started the story from when Princess Celestia had arrived, and finished when he’d yanked Torch out of the way, taking the hit for the Dragon Lord.

Amber didn’t know what to say, weighed down by the news that one of those wrongdoers was still roaming the world, so she simply curled around her mate for the rest of that afternoon, and held him close until their children returned home.

She took solace in the fact that soon, they wouldn’t need to worry about another attack.

Torch took a deep breath as he entered his cave, deep enough at his massive sive for it to echo all along the cavernous walls.

He’d almost forgotten what the place looked like, ever since going into an exile that was maybe self-imposed, maybe had to do with awaiting forgiveness. There was a relief to being home with his mate and his child, moreso when Blaze strode next to him, to rest her head upon his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Torch said in a whisper, which for him was room volume. “For everything.”

“I’m sorry too,” Blaze mumbled, nuzzling her mate. “Perhaps I overreacted–”

“Blaze, there’s a difference between me abusing my authority, and you getting angry about it. I was cruel, overbearing. I’m sorry.”

They could go in circles all day, so Blaze decided to acquiesce.

“Alright, you were wrong. Only you, and I forgive you.” Blaze’s eyes closed, and her tail started to slither, wrapping itself around Torch’s. “I just want to put it all behind us. With everything happening, it seems so small now. I didn’t know if a sarcastic jab was going to be the last thing I said to you. I didn’t want it to be the last thing. Besides, I miss having you to hold me at night.”

Torch wrapped an arm around her, bringing his mate just a hair closer to himself. If the Dragon Lord was being honest, he too missed her nightly embrace.

Meanwhile, beholding her parents’ love for one another made Ember want to wretch.

A week soon passed and slowly, tensions began to ease, somewhat.

Torch’s leadership was becoming a common topic of debate. Quite a few dragons deemed his actions cowardly and mewling. A true Lord would have forced the name out of the pony, whether Celestia was present or not. It would set an example to Equestria. But many saw the matter from his perspective. The criminal who’d got away was, in the end, a mere tool; better that the true mastermind be made an example of in Equestria, and let the absconding criminal sow fear amidst his ilk, than risk another attack.

The dragons did as they usually did after a week of arguing, and agreed to disagree with one another, in what took the form of generally-cordial wrestling matches so as to let out any remnant ill-feeling, with it being decided that the winner had a better claim to having won the argument. In truth, everyone saw there was no easy answer to a question like this, although many dragons would continue to treat Torch coldly until the end of his reign.

On the other hand, Pala visited Torch, chewed him out, even went so far as to strike him repeatedly, hurling a stream of obscenities at him. Torch took it for a little while, for none in the Dragonlands had the right to free speech like a dragon who’d been wronged, but soon he caught her wrist and dismissed her. He could understand her mourning, her pain. Deep down, he pitied her, not that this was admissible from one dragon to another. For her sake, he pretended nothing had happened there.

There was also the issue of the alleged first attack.

The prospect frightened many dragons, but some questioned if there’d even been such a thing. Some tried to deduce the victim, yet nothing came to mind. There had been no missing egg, no mothers with unusual injuries, and there certainly hadn’t been any families discovered to been murdered. The only oddity anyone could name was young Heathspike Ironscale, and he’d been abandoned, not abducted. Perhaps Amber had hidden ties to ponies, but what then could her motive be? She could still bear children; she’d already had two prior to Spike. And where were Spike’s parents? If they were dead, someone would have found the corpses by now.

It was a question the realm would have to leave unanswered.

Flare had slowly recovered from his injury, quicker than Topaz had expected. His family was also gifted half of the platinum Celestia had brought. Despite the tragic history of its origins, they were still grateful to accept such a gracious gift from Torch. Amber and Flare kept the figurative lid on this new pile to add to their hoard, but mentally divided it four ways. Garble and Spike could use their share to forge wonderful presents for future brides, while Smolder could use the dowry for herself and her own future mate’s hoard.

But when Torch tried to do the same for the Steelspines, reneging on his penalty, they made it clear that they’d rather claw their own eyes out than accept any part of the gift. Sacred as the metal was, to them the platinum felt sullied, as if Tiamat herself had put a curse upon it. Hence the rest was allocated to their religious order, who put it to good use.

The egg, now dubbed Onyx Steelspine, was buried in his clan’s crypt, along with a single bar of platinum embedded with a blood-red ruby, a symbol of the highest status, typically reserved for Dragon Lords. Though many mourned his passing, the priests took solace in the fact that the child would have no issue finding his way back to Asgorath himself, without the need for Null, God of Death. His inner flame untainted, Tiamat could not touch him on his journey, even if he wanted her to. They prayed that during his journey, however short it was, Sardior and Bahamut himself would walk beside the hatchling, if only to keep the lad company.

Finally, there was Spike. He never learnt the truth about his father’s wound, and as such, his mind began to wander, filling in the blanks himself. The only reasonable answer he could come up with was that ponies had attacked him with platinum blades. Nightmares now plagued the little drake, waking him up at odd hours. Sometimes there would be a phantom pain from a wound received in a dream. At other times, the Specter would appear, reaching out a jagged claw to throttle the boy.

Amber soon began to take notice. The growing bags under Spike’s eyes worried her to no end, as did the times he woke up weeping, frightened by images of his family attacked. She wasn’t too shocked, not with everything that had happened. However, a drake his age needed sleep, so she would get this fixed.

Without a second thought, Amber gathered her children, and went to Topaz.

“Oh, little one, you look unwell,” Topaz said upon seeing her youngest grandchild.

“I’m tired, Grandma,” Spike mumbled as he took a seat on a stone slab. He looked around for his grandmother’s assistant, finding her strangely absent. “Where’s Gemstone?”

“Away. She needs time off from work. Let’s focus on you right now. Having nightmares again?” When Spike nodded an affirmative, Topaz then said, “Amber, why don’t you leave them with me for today? I could use some help mixing the herbs he needs.”

“Alright,” said Amber.” You three be good for Grandma.” She received three nods, gave each of her children a goodbye nuzzle in return, and took her leave.

“What are the nightmares about this time?” Topaz asked her grandson.

“Ponies,” Spike admitted. “I keep having dreams that they come after me.”

Topaz let out a sigh. She couldn’t blame the boy, after what happened, it was only normal. “Garble, find the kettle and heat some water. Smolder, get the chamomile leaves, the leaf trap, and a cup. Spike, just make yourself comfortable.”

Garble and Smolder scattered around the cave in search of the items, while Spike fell on his back, staring a hole into the ceiling.

“Why do they hate us?”

“Beg pardon?” Topaz laid her head next to Spike’s prone body.

“Ponies. They wanted to kill a mother and father for their hoard, and then they smashed an egg. Flash Magnus attacked us and killed some of Grandpa Furnace’s family. One even smashed a bunch of eggs. What did we ever do to them?”

“That’s a very complicated question Spike. I can’t tell you why they hate us, or even if the majority of ponies do hate us.”

Ponies, or Equestria as a nation hating dragons, was an illusion in Topaz’s opinion. One that had been maintained for a thousand years. The Ironscales especially were taught to be wary of ponies. How could they not be? She could imagine that Flare, Smog, or even the old wrym Furnace had told the children the tale of Flash Magnus by now.

But Spike, Smolder, and Garble didn’t just have a history with ponies through their Ironscale blood. Topaz herself had a history with ponies, and not just through Squires’ Gate. What would happen to that illusion if she were to slightly crack it?

“Garble, Smolder, come here,” said Topaz. “I want to tell you all a story.”

Their ears perked. Garble extinguished the fire he’d made to heat the water, Smolder placed the cup and leaf trap in a small pile, and they scurried next to their little brother, with Smolder holding him in her lap.

“Good. Now, what if I were to tell you that the only reason any of you exist today is because of a pony?”

“That’s dumb, what did a pony ever do for us?” Garble scoffed.

“It’s far from ‘dumb’, Garble. And, they didn’t help you specifically, but a family member. Do any of you know what wingbreak is?”

“It’s an infection caused by fungus,” Smolder quickly said. “If you don’t treat it, we have to have our wings removed.”

“Correct, but did you know it can spread past our wings if left untreated, and can then cause scale-rot.” Two nods, and a mumble from Spike. “I once had scale rot. Worse, it was during our war with Equestria.”

“But don’t healers have medicine for that?” Smolder asked. “It couldn’t be that bad.”

“Oh, little one, this was a time before us healers existed,” Topaz sighed a heavy sigh. “Have you ever paused to consider why some dragons refer to me as a shaman, but I call myself a healer? It’s because we are actually two separate vocations. Though, I suppose you could say we healers usurped the role Shamans once held in society. Unfortunately, the cure for scale rot at the time involved–” She paused, thinking of how to explain mutilating a whelp’s hide without using those exact words. “Removing the infected area. It would’ve happened to me, but I was treated by someone very kind, rare during such troubled times…”

Little Topaz whimpered and wept as she tossed and turned on the cave floor.

Only her Uncle, Dragon Lord Meliek, was there to give her comfort. Her parents, poor things, had passed away three years prior, leaving her in his care.

Perhaps the world was shaping to match the little one’s current feeling of misery; perhaps it was shaping to match their realm’s anguish. The skies were dark, hoards were getting raided, dragons had stooped to eating ponies like mere beasts, and a good number on both sides relished in the carnage. It was a time when Bahamut and his paladins were asleep, while Tiamat and her brood wove the threads of fate entirely to her liking.

Topaz’s infection was worsening by the day. Had things been normal, had they not been at war, Meliek would have caught onto it sooner, he could have helped his niece, but now, he needed a shaman’s help. What the shaman would do would hurt her, it was risky to say the least, but it would give his niece a chance to live. If he let the scale-rot spread, she wouldn’t last long. Not at all.

“Lord Meliek,” boomed a voice.

The Dragon Lord was surprised to see a guard enter the cave. Following him were two ponies, both of the earth pony tribe. One was a mare whose coat was a light blue, near as blue as the sky, the strands of pink and scarlet in her mane done up in a bun; accompanying her was a bearded and burly stallion, who wore a jerkin, which together with his thick braided mane and beard denoted a northern origin.

“What are those creatures doing in my cave!?” roared the Dragon Lord.

“They surrendered,” said the guard. “One asked to see you about your niece. She said she could help.”

“Help? Help? I need no help from the likes of them!” Meliek sneered. “You should’ve incinerated them.”

At this, the bearded stallion stomped forward. “Try it, ya overgrown lizard,” he growled, unslinging an item he’d worn on his back, a humongous shovel.

“Rockhoof, that is enough!” spoke a gentle feminine voice, that of the mare’s. The stallion relented and took a step back. “We don’t need to escalate things,” she said quietly. “Dragon Lord Meliek, was it? I heard that someone was sick, so I wanted to offer my help–”

She saw Topaz laying past her uncle and let out a horrified gasp. Instantly and unhesitantly, she ran past the Dragon Lord, stopping at Topaz’s side. Seeming to recognize the ailment, the mare knelt, doing her best to comfort the whelp as she stroked her back gently.

“Oh, you poor thing. Don’t worry, I have–”

“Step away from my niece!” Meliek roared, slamming his claws on either side of the mare.

The mare didn’t flinch. She simply stood up, looked the Dragon Lord dead in the eyes. “She needs help. I can help her.”

Her voice was soft, but had the force of a dragon behind it.

“I have a shaman for that. Step away from her. Now.” Smoke billowed from Meliet’s nostrils and maw, but the earth ponies seemed unimpressed.

“How is the shaman going to treat her?” asked the stallion, unhindered by the mare. “I suppose it’ll be by cutting her up and blood-letting? My own people gave up on that centuries ago.”

“Of course,” nodded the mare. “Because that’s an answer to everything, to people who disdain showing weakness above all else. Lord Meliek, if ya let your shaman near her, she’ll be mutilated.”

“He would save her life!”

“No, you’d scar her for life!” the mare snapped, stopping a hoof on the ground. “You’d rip off her scales, her skin, tear out her flesh, leave her bloodied and on the verge of death! My cure is nowhere near as painful, and a thousand times more effective!”

Meliek glared down at her. “I do not need an equine’s help!”

She looked almost disgusted at the Dragon Lord. “You’d honestly risk her life, just because I’m a pony? How dare ya call yourself her uncle.”

His gaze narrowed. Had this pony been a stallion, she would have been reduced to ash by now. “I’ve seen what you ponies do to dragons. You’d lecture me on mutilating? Eggs have been shattered, dragons have been speared and skinned. The sons of the Ironscale Clan have been nearly wiped out. Now you ask for my trust? What assurance can you give that you won’t kill her.”

“Me.” she said, voice firm and determined. “I’m a healer, my duty is to the ill and wounded, whatever their banner. If she dies, you’re welcome to light me on fire, eat me, smash me to a pulp, anything. Just let me help. What do ya have to lose?”

Meliek thought it over for a moment. His other two choices damned him, one way or another. What was the harm in letting the mare try? If she was lying, if anything happened to Topaz, he’d pass judgement on the mare and her friend, name a successor to the Bloodstone Scepter, and then exile himself.

He let out a sigh. “Fine. Do what you must, but know that neither you nor the brute leave this cave without my say-so.”

“Deal. We may be here a while… Rockhoof, come over here, bring my saddlebags.”

The stallion obeyed, and the healer took out a jar of ointment, the contents of which she began to apply it to Topaz’s back, causing the whelp to grunt in pain.

“I know, it stings, but this should take care of the infection in a snap. Don’t worry, little one, I’m going to have you fixed up before you know it…”

It wasn’t only medicine the healer had brought. The two ponies had taken care to bring sleeping-bags, provisions for food and ablution, scrolls for the mare and dice for the stallion; all of whatever they needed for time to pass during their prolonged stay, though never were they left alone to their devices. The Dragon Lord kept his eye on them for every waking hour he could allow, and a guard would serve as his eye when he could not.

In return, the ponies took turns as one kept watch while the other slept, although it didn’t go unnoticed that despite the stallion’s sturdiness, more than once he had to remind the mare she needed rest.

The healer proved true to her word, much to the shock and amazement of Uncle Meliek. The infection practically vanished overnight. Sore spots lingered here and there, but regular applications of ointment took care of it, until by the end of the morning after the healer and her bodyguard had arrived, they were truly gone.

Topaz’s fever remained for another two days, but after a strict regime of water, and medicine, and a good meal, all that was left was a happy and energetic hatchling.

On the third day, Topaz was playing tug-of-war with Rockhoof.

She held a rope in her mouth, growling as she pulled with all her might, while Rockhoof held his end in his own mouth and simply stood there.

“Looks like someone’s feeling better,” the mare chuckled, watching them from the sides.

Hearing her, Topaz released the rope and nodded her little head. “Yeah, I am! What was that stuff you put on me, what did I drink, what’s your name?” she asked, in quick succession.

The mare smiled. “I rubbed ointment into your scales, made from a special root and flower. You drank a tea I had specially prepared to bring down your fever and help ya sleep, sweetheart. My name is Meadowbrook, and if ya didn’t know, that stallion there be Rockhoof. What’s your name?”

“Topaz. I wanted to be Princess Topaz, but Uncle Meliek says I’d need to be his daughter, not his niece. That stinks, because I don’t even have any cousins, and he hasn’t even got a mate!”

Topaz paused before continuing as another question entered her head.

“Why did you help me? I thought ponies hated us.”

At those words, Meadowbrook frowned. “I can understand why you’d think that, Topaz… What’s happening out there, it’s complicated.” Her face darkened, but soon she smiled again. “But such a sweet little bee like you don’t need worry about that for much longer. My friend Stygian is here to take Flash Magnus and them soldiers away. Until then, Rockhoof and I will make sure you’re safe. No slayer will get close to ya.” She turned to the stallion and smiled. “Right, Rockhoof?”

“If they get too close, I’ll break them,” Rockhoof said. He forced his shovel deep into the cave’s floor. “This I promise.”

“Good, now I need to make a note real quick.” Meadowbrook picked up a scroll, beginning to take notes. Topaz’s eyes widened in wonder.

“What are you doing with that?”

“It’s a medical journal,” said Meadowbrook. “Basically I put everything I know in here, so that future healers can use it to make little girls like you better. Want to know what it says?”

Topaz nodded and a seat next to the pony. Meadow drapied her cloak over the both of them, as she began to teach the whelp the basics of reading and writing. Rockhoof, true to his word, sat near them, keeping guard in case anything threatening came near. For the first time since she could remember, Topaz felt safe.

“She taught me much, during the short time she was here. She left me a few of her books to remember her by. I slept so much easier knowing they were near. Having saved my life, my uncle gave Meadowbrook a boon, just one. She asked that the soldiers be given safe passage back to Equestria, and that after that, they would never return. He allowed it, reluctantly, but her word was good. Like she’d promised, the raids stopped, the soldiers left our lands, and Flash Magnus vanished along with Meadowbrook, Rockhoof, and the fabled Stygian. I always regret not meeting him.”

“That’s nice and all,” Garble mumbled, “but they still killed a lot of Ironscales.”

“True. There’s always an echo of the past, Garbuncle. Flash Magnus’s is just heard clearer. Recall when you were sick, or when Smolder and Spike were ill. What did I give you?”

“You gave us medicine,” said Garble.

“I did, do you know where they came from?” smirked Topaz. “Her. Those medicines are her medicines. The writing and reading that you do, it was taught to me by a pony. The reason you, the reason dragons these days can stay healthy and happy is because one pony, long ago, decided to help us. Flash and his ilk killed many of us, true, but Meadowbrook saved many more. We dragons have been wronged by ponies, but we can’t ignore the good they’ve also done for us. Promise me you’ll remember this.”

Garble gave his grandmother a half-hearted nod, while Smolder just looked thoughtful. It was as good as Topaz would get.

“What happened to Meadowbrook?” Spike asked, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m unsure. I’d like to think Rockhoof and she died old and surrounded by family, loved.”

She smiled at the memory of the pair. Perhaps it was the little whelp inside of her, but she liked to believe Rockhoof and Meadowbrook were in love, seeing as Rockhoof had stolen the occasional glance towards the mare. She allowed the thoughts to fade, before turning her attention towards Spike.

“Now, let’s do something about you.”

Topaz poked her grandchild’s nose with an oversized claw. She and Spike then spent the rest of the day reading from a new book, until dusk fell on the land. Spike was given some warm tea to drink, permitted to snuggle with his grandmother and both of his siblings.

That night, Spike slept as soundly as he ever did, no nightmares to plague his dreams. But a small thought whispered at the back of his mind that, perhaps, meeting a pony wouldn’t be so bad.

Author's Note

A bit of a breather after everything, a needed breather at that.

Special thanks to my editor for all his help this one.

And thank you to everyone for reading this story! Here's hoping I can churn out another chapter before the holidays.

Chapter 21: Twilight’s Guide to Cheering Up a Princess

The moment Twilight Sparkle heard that Princess Celestia had returned from her two-week trip, she remained in her seat at her desk until she’d carefully marked the page she was on in her book, carefully placed the book into her saddlebags, slung the saddlebags over her back – and then she rushed straight out her parents’ front door and towards the Palace as fast as her little legs could carry her, ignoring the cries of her babysitter, who’d brought her the wonderful news.

Fortunately, Twilight did not have far to go, living close to the Palace as she did. The front gate was the usual hustle and bustle of activity that Twilight was familiar with. Mainly petitioners and tourists, for the Princess kept an open house, but also the usual assortment of serving-staff. She skilfully wove between the legs of many a startled maid, disregarding their indignant yelps along with the calls to halt from the Royal Guards stationed at the portcullis.

A small filly’s ability to disappear into such a throng, in fact, was the very thing which had allowed her to get this far when pursued by a babysitter who could fly. But upon the exposed space of the drawbridge, this was where Twilight’s luck ran out.

Her ears only had time to pick up a sound of beating wings, before Princess Cadance caught up to her, the junior alicorn’s aura stopping Twilight dead in her tracks and promptly lifting her up in the air. It wasn’t long until Cadance was scolding her for having ignored the Guards and caused a small ruckus.

“But I wanna see the Princess!” Twilight whined, flailing helplessly in Cadance’s blue-tinged aura.

“And I’m sure, no, I know she’d love to see you,” Cadance said, more gently now, “but that doesn’t mean we get to treat the rule as if they didn’t apply to us, like they do for everyone. It’s important the Guards know who you are and why you’re here. Also, you know better than to run about, Twilight. You could crash into a pony and get hurt.” Cadance turned Twilight to face the two Guards on duty. “So. What do we say to the Guards?”

Twilight sighed, her head bowing. “Sorry for not stopping and stating my business, Mister Guards.”

The pair of armoured stallions, Hulking Mass and Hulking Brute– not for the first time, Twilight could thank her photographic memory, as so many of the Guards looked alike in their armour without them having confusingly-similar names – gave differing responses to her apology.

“Don’t let it happen again,” growled Hulking Mass, glaring at the filly.

It so happened that he practiced his death glare every day after work, despite getting teased about it by his wife. Sure, here was a Guard wasting a perfectly good death glare on a filly, but he rarely got to use it in the real world, normally relying on his patented warning glare, which was less intimidating, although usually still fairly effective.

Hulking Brute thumped his friend’s shoulder. He gave Twilight a stern look of his own, but it was friendlier than what Hulking Mass had given her. “We forgive you, Twilight. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t.”

Having seemingly decided Twilight was sufficiently chastened, Cadance put her back down. This time, Twilight couldn’t help looking back at her babysitter, as if quietly asking for some sign of her approval. A tiny nod from Cadance let her know everything was alright now.

“Go on,” Cadance smiled. “I’ll be waiting for you back here. Just don’t take too long, okay?”

Relieved, Twilight turned around, beginning a power-trot towards Celestia’s room, found somewhere at the top of the Palace’s many towards. She knew it was there the Princess liked to retire after a long and tiring trip on princess business.

Thinking of Princesses made Twilight think, once again, about how unusual it was to have one for a babysitter. Her very own Princess, who’d sometimes play with her and her pogona lizard, yet was just fine with helping Twilight do her homework, answering any questions she had.

When they’d met, Twilight had asked if Cadance was Celestia’s daughter, wondering if that was why she too had both wings and a horn. To which Cadance had just smiled her lovely white smile and shaken her head and said no, she wasn’t, although she was distantly related to Celestia.

Cadance did mention there was a whole story about how she became an alicorn, involving an enchantress and her growing up in an earthpony village, and she’d offered to tell it as a bedtime story if Twilight wanted her. But Twilight hadn’t felt too interested in that, preferring instead to probe Cadance with scientific questions about being an alicorn.

Twilight lost that trail of thought as she arrived at Celestia’s bedroom. After coughing to herself, she gently knocked on the door, recalling it was rude to just barge in.

However, she didn’t wait to open, and spotting Celestia lying on a large pillow, Twilight made her move.

“Princess!” the little unicorn cried in delight, as she rushed to wrap her legs around the Princess’s neck.

Celestia, who’d been staring out the window towards her setting sun, was momentarily caught off guard, before smiling at her student.

“Well, hello, Twilight. I take it you missed me?”

“Yeah! The archives were fun, but everyone I brought wasn’t interested!” Twilight rambled. “The girls wanted to get ice cream, all Flash wanted to read about was knights, at least Timber wanted to learn geography and geology– but he only wanted to look at the pictures! Then Lyra was looking for research on her fantasy race. She shouted conspiracy when she couldn’t find anything! The guards kicked us out when they called her crazy and she kicked one in the shin. Princess, you wouldn't have a magic doorway to another world somewhere in the castle, would you?”

At this, Celestia could feel the beads of sweat gathering on her forehead.

“No.” Celestia very quickly said, recalling exactly what happened to the last unicorn who’d found the magic doorway to the Mirrorworld. She hadn’t seen them in years now, and it was a loss which still weighed heavily on her and on Cadance.

“Why did you leave, anyway? I kept asking around but no-one would tell me.”

That was done on purpose. Before leaving, Celestia had instructed Kibitz to make sure scarcely anyone knew she was away on business. Her butler and the others who knew were under strict orders to say nothing to Twilight, lest they worry the anxiety-prone filly beyond all reason. She couldn’t have that. Cadance and Blueblood had looked worried enough.

“Business,” Celestia said simply. “Being a Princess means that I have to sometimes meet with other Royals, no matter how long or hard a task it is.”

“Who’d you meet with?”

Celestia hated herself for lying to, or even misleading her student. She was accustomed to employing a little guile in how she taught Twilight, given her secret hopes for what the filly may do in future, who she may become. Hopes which thus far only Cadance was privy to.

Yet if she wanted to put her hope in Twilight, Celestia knew she’d have to put her trust in her as well. Alas, certain things were just not right for one still so young. The little unicorn would grow, and grow more involved as well, over time. Let her be spared for now.

“I would like to tell you more, Twilight,” sighed Celestia, “but I fear that’s confidential. However,” she expertly added without breaking her pace, forestalling the inevitable disappointment in Twilight’s eyes, “would you like it if I told you about a stopover I made? Well, I thought of making. I don’t believe your lessons have covered King Scorpan of Arcania yet.”

In truth, King Scorpan had become something of a recluse in the last few years. If, and it was a very powerful ‘if’, Celestia kept any contact with Arcania, it went through Haydon, the King’s mother and former Queen Consort.

Twilight Sparkle puffed up her cheeks. She hated it when things were confidential. That meant she couldn’t know things.

Her adorably scrunched-up face did wonders for Celestia’s mood, brightening the Princess’s smile.

“Twilight, I thank you for the hug,” Celestia said, ruffling the filly’s mane, “but I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I need some rest. I’ll be sure to make time for you the day after.”

“Okay.” Twilight mumbled, giving the Princess’s long leg one last hug. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yes, you will see me then.”

The next day came, and Twilight sat in her history class.

At the front was not their usual teacher, but a stallion named Polymath, the Dean of Admissions. Twilight couldn’t tell why she got the feeling that he disliked her. All she knew was that she often found herself ignored whenever she tried to answer his questions.

The fact was that Polymath hated subbing for any teacher in the School for Gifted Unicorns. He couldn’t fault that he was so frequently in demand, the school being very selective about its staff, and he had all the certifications required. Only, subbing meant he’d inevitably come face-to-face with Twilight Sparkle.

Not that the Princess’s personal student was what annoyed him. Polymath looked at the gaggle of all the other unicorn students staring at him blankly, and knew that none of them were going to try to, nor could they, answer the question.

“Can anyone– besides Twilight Sparkle,” said he, looking directly at Twilight to put her hoof down, “tell me who founded Equestria as a nation?”

Silence filled the classroom. Twilight’s class rarely had to try. With someone like her present, they could all rely on her to answer for them. How was anyone supposed to learn in a situation like that?

“Minuette,” Polymath said, deciding to call on students at random. “Please give me an answer.”

“Uh, Princess Celestia?”

“No. Sorry. Though She is our longest-reigning monarch, she did not found Equestria. She did participate in the foundation of Canterlot, though. Good try. Twinkleshine, you’re up. Please tell us who founded Equestria.”

“Starswirl the Bearded!”

Yet another wrong answer. “Good try, but no. Starswirl founded many councils that acted as a government, and even a group of heroes known as the Pillars of Equestria, but he did not found the nation.” Still, at least the students knew the important figures. “Lyra Heartstrings, please–”

“Lauren Faust!” the little mint-green unicorn cried out.

That was on him. Despite knowing better than to call on the crazy one, he’d done so anyway. “No. Alright, Moondancer, do you know?” Moondancer had something of a rivalry with Twilight, a very one-sided, near-obsessive rivalry. If there was one student that was close to being another Twilight, who could answer the question, it was her.

“Gusty the Great,” Moondancer answered. “She founded the kingdom after usurping the previous ruler, Emperor Grogar.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s incorrect, close though, very close.” She had even mentioned the right answer, but her overall answer was wrong. At this, Moondancer looked down at her desk, embarrassed. “Gusty the Great was considered to be the first leader of the Kingdom, in fact she named this land Equestria. Yet while she did rule over the nation for a brief time, she did not found it.”

His eyes met Lemon Hearts’, who slowly sunk into her seat and beneath her desk until only the tip of her horn was visible.

“Alright,” sighed Polymath, resigned, “homework tonight, I want detailed essays on the founder of Equestria from everyone. Two pages minimum, a maximum of ten pages for you, Twilight. Speaking of; Twilight Sparkle, who founded Equestria?”

Twilight’s face brightened. “Originally called Tambelon,” she lectured, “the nation was founded by Emperor Grogar, otherwise known as Grogar the Knowledgeable and Grogar the Cruel. There is a long-standing debate amongst scholars over whether or not he should be given credit as the founder of the nation, but considering that Gusty the Great maintained the structures he established, and the nation’s borders, he is at the very least to be considered an instrumental figure in our nation's founding, if not the founder.”

“Correct. Thank you, Twilight.”

Just then the door to the class opened, and in walked Princess Celestia. Not an uncommon sight. There were times when the Princess would observe the teachers and students to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Today, instead of silently lingering in the back, Celestia came to stand at the front, next to him.

“Well now, on the topic of Equestria’s rulers, it seems we have a special guest. Princess Celestia herself! Afternoon, Princess.”

“Princess!” Twilight happily shouted, standing up in her seat. “Princess! Princess!” She began to wave her hooves in a bid to gain the Princess’s attention, eliciting a soft, amused chuckle from Celestia.

“Hello, Twilight, and hello class,” Celestia said, waving to the foals. The students began to break down into hushed whispers, wondering why the Princess was in their class, with some of the more rambunctious students fearing they were in trouble again.

“Alright, alright!” Polymath said. “We are still in class, so please remain quiet,” The clamors and whispers began to die down, but there was still the occasional whisper or two. “Princess, I am pleased to welcome you into the class. What can we do for you?”

Celestia gave the stallion a smile. “I apologize for barging in like this, Polymath, but I needed to speak with you outside.” She leaned in and began to whisper. “It’s regarding a new specification for the entrance exam. There’s a foal I’m hearing good things about and I want to up the difficulty for them, just to see if they’re as good as they say.”

“Ah, I see. Well, couldn’t it wait until after class?”

“No, no, no,” Celestis said quietly. “I’m trying to get him tested tomorrow. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but could I count on you?”

“I suppose so, but we still have a good hour before class is dismissed–”

“Oh, no need to worry about that.” Celestia turned to face the foals. “Class, I have a surprise for you. You’re all getting an early recess!”

Nearly all foals let out a roaring cheer, only to be drowned out by Twilight’s ear-splitting cry of despair.

Unbeknownst to them, however, Celestia was no longer smiling as she led Polymath outside. He himself did not suspect a thing as they headed towards his office. What place is more natural for the Princess to hold a discussion with the Dean of Admissions?

The true surprise would be that Celestia already had two Guards waiting for them.

Later that day, Twilight could tell Celestia was upset about something. It irked that she didn’t know what.

Perhaps that didn’t matter, because Twilight had something which would cheer the Princess up instantly. Cookies. If there was one thing that made Twilight feel better, it was her Mom’s freshly-baked cookies. So, it stood to reason that if Celestia was upset, her Mom’s cookies would make her feel better. They were even chocolate-chip cookies. Who didn’t like a freshly-baked chocolate-chip cookie?

She went over her list one last time. Cookies? Check. A long declaration of devotion to her studies and her admiration for Celestia herself? Check. A well-practiced hug, given the stamp of approval by both her parents? Check. Her pet pogona lizard fed, his drinking-water changed, and the mister installed to assist with his shed? Check, check, and check.

Everything was perfect until she bumped into the last pony she wanted to see that day.

“Blueblood,” Twilight sneered.

Prince Astron III Vladimir Blueblood, last descendant of House Platinum, nephew to Celestia herself. Twilight didn’t like Blueblood at all, from his stupid snow-white coat, down to his stupid golden hair, to his stupid baby-blue eyes, to the stupid basket he was carrying. Normally, Blueblood would be off at his fancy Manehattan boarding school, but unfortunately he was home for the weekend on a visit.

The worst part of Blueblood was his ego. He thought that just because he was the Princess’s nephew he could do whatever he wanted, like eat lunch thirty minutes before noon, an extra cookie before dinner, or be mean to her brother by saying things like, ‘Aren’t you a little old to be playing with toys?’

There was nothing more insulting to Shining than calling his hobbyist miniatures ‘toys’. Shining had repeatedly told her that HyperSpace HyperWars was a very serious hobby with official tournaments. Blueblood was just too dense to understand that. Sure, both Cadence and their mother would tell Shining the exact same thing verbatim, and even Twilight thought Shining’s time could be better spent on practicing magic – or on studies, considering the grade on his last math test – but for some reason Blueblood saying it felt so much worse.

“Oh, Miss Sparkle. You’re here. With Auntie being busy, I thought that you’d be at the library all day.”

“No!” Twilight huffed. “Miss Pages gave me a time limit after the last time. I can only stay in the library for an hour. Any longer and I need someone to chaperone me.” She peered into the basket the Prince was holding, and saw three golden apples. “Are those from the garden? The Princess doesn’t like people stealing her apples.”

“Indeed, which is why I already asked for permission.”

“A likely story!” Twilight scoffed. “What are they for, then?”

Blueblood let his lips droop a fraction of a degree. “They’re gifts for one of my friends at boarding school. Come summer break, she’ll no longer be attending, in order to pursue other opportunities. I wanted to do something nice for her before she left.”

Another likely story. “What’s this friend’s name?” Twilight said in a very accusatory tone.

“Apple Jewel.”

Apple Jewel. What kind of fake made-up name was Apple Jewel? It was like the names Lyra spouted up, like Brad, Chad, or Bryan. Twilight gave him a look of warning before proceeding on to Celestia’s room.

The door opened with a loud creek, earning the Princess’s attention.

“Hmm?” Celestia turned to see her student. “Oh, Twilight. I thought I told the guards–”

Celestia looked past the filly and saw her Guards each eating a freshly baked chocolate-chip cookie, with a second suspended in their auras. Their eyes met hers, and they took a step to the side, out of her sight.

“Of course. Who could deny a filly with cookies.” Celestia chuckled, opening a wing and welcoming her.

Twilight placed the tin next to Celestia, and took a seat, eagerly waiting for the Princess to take one. Celestia ate one cookie and smiled brightly. There was nothing that could cheer someone up quite like a chocolate-chip cookie.

“Thank you, Twilight. I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

“So you’re feeling better?” Twilight asked.

“Much. Thank you.”

Twilight beamed a moment, before her eyes looked at the pictures before Celestia. It took her another moment to recognize one of the contents. “Is that a galapagos tortoise egg?”

“Beg pardon?” Celestia asked.

Twilight pointed to one of the eggs in the pictures. “That’s a galapagos egg. And there’s a platypus egg! Oh, that’s a sea turtle egg! I thought those were illegal to own.”

“They are. Twilight, how do you know what eggs these are?”

“I’m doing a report on endangered species! Laws regarding conservation protect eggs, so I have an entire section on protected eggs with pictures and everything!”

Celestia nodded, impressed. She would likely call an expert to verify some of Twilight’s claims, but part of her knew she could take Twilight’s word as gospel. Her student was nothing if not thorough.

“Do you mind if I help you name these?”

Celestia nodded, and Twilight was allowed to stay for a bit, naming any eggs she thought she knew. After a half-hour, and half the cookies in the tin, a good fourth of the pictures of eggs had names under them, nearly all of them illegal to own.

“Thank you, Twilight, you’ve been a tremendous help. Now, I need you to run along, I still have some work to do.”

Twilight beamed and started for the door, only to remember Blueblood. “Oh, Princess, Blueblood had a few golden apples–”

“He asked if he could have some, and I said yes. No need to think he’s stealing.”

“Even if this friend is made up? I mean, what girl could stand Blueblood?”

When Celestia considered the love letters he would often receive from classmates, or the suggestions she often received from nobles for an arranged marriage, and legion of mares that cared more for the Prince part of his name than Blueblood himself, the answer was obvious to her. Many could. Which was why she’d taken particular interest in Apple Jewel when Blueblood said he’d made a friend.

“I’ve done some looking into his friend. She exists, and I hear she enjoys her time with Blueblood.”

That was an understatement. Celestia had looked into who she was, who her family was, and even if she had any evil twins to worry about. Fortunately, there were no red flags to speak of. The filly in question only had an older brother, and an adorable little sister.

As was common for her peers, Apple Jewel was a filly descended from the noble House of Apple, and the Pear Family which was a noble house in all but name. Celestia had ennobled Apple Jewel’s great-grandfather, Appleseed, decades ago, his title of Baron of Ponyville now held by his daughter. On her mother’s side was another large family headed by Grand Pear, a pear mogul. From the reports, they were all nice ponies, and she was happy that Blueblood got along so well with someone.

If only Twilight could make a friend.

Nevertheless, being the protective aunt that she was, Celestia may have also used her position as monarch to look at Apple Jewel’s mail. Just a peek, a very tiny peek. The little lady often had nice things to say about Blueblood, referring to him as Larry, likely as a reference to Vladimir. Unfortunately, those letters also talked about her feeling homesick, even worse now she’d got her cutie mark. The news that she was leaving the school for good had come as no surprise to either Celestia or Blueblood, but the Prince still took it hard.

“Try and be kind to him, Twilight, for me. Blueblood’s about to need some cheering up.”

Twilight felt sick trying to just visualize treating Blueblood with anything more than disdain, yet this was Celestia asking her, so how could she refuse?

“Alright, for you.”

Business soon took Celestia away from Canterlot anew; she stepped off the train, drawing several gazes. Three days had passed since her talk with Polymath, which ended in his arrest.

She’d hardly believed Air Break when he’d given her the Dean’s name, but once she had Polymath’s house searched and found his egg collection, Air Break’s story became a bit more believable. Twilight’s brilliance had unwittingly assisted in implicating him in lesser crimes, which gave credence to the much larger accusation. When she interrogated Polymath, he’d quickly gone silent and called for his lawyer, only providing her one name. Short Fuse.

According to recent census data, Short Fuse was a blacksmith in Trottingham. No priors, no records, no history of wrongdoing. The stallion was clean as the snow. Could he truly be a Dragon Slayer? Considering Polymath, someone whom she trusted to vet foals for her school, turned out to have paid ponies to steal a dragon egg, it was likely. She pondered how this stallion would react to seeing her.

Celestia entered the small town, followed by Blade Sentry and Spark Burst, as they looked friendlier than most Guards. If anything, ponies would think she needed a blacksmith to forge something for her, and that her Guards were just for company. No need to draw more attention to herself. She asked around town for Short Fuse, giving the ponies a friendly smile, and was quickly pointed in the right direction.

The stallion was found near a far-off cottage overlooking a large field, working at a well-built home forge. He looked like a normal hardworking stallion in a blacksmith’s mask and apron, with rippling muscle beneath his brick-red coat, and jet-black mane shaved to a crew cut. But he was missing his lower-right hindleg, replaced by an ingenious retractable wood-and-iron prosthetic. She could only guess how he had lost it; at this very moment, he worked at a grinder, filing a blade down to obtain a sharp edge.

Celestia cleared her throat, garnering his attention. He hit a switch, making sure the belt stopped before he turned to face her. He removed his mask to get a better look, revealing a stubbled, square-jawed face. Something about his bearing had made Celestia think he should be older, yet oddly, the stallion’s couldn’t be that old, judging by the face. Twenty-five, perhaps. That is, until one saw the eyes.

Curious to her was his reaction, or lack thereof in those eyes. Once the initial surprise had faded, he looked at her as if she were the delivery mare bringing him his daily mail. Maybe a long-expected letter.

“Are you Short Fuse?”

“Aye. Polymath, he got caught, didnae he?” the stallion said with a sigh.

“That he did,” Celestia said gravely. “He implicated you in a very serious crime.”

“I ken, Yer Highness.” He put down his tools, to slowly and methodically make his way towards her. “Look, my missus is out visiting her folks, we can talk inside the house.”

“Understood. You both, wait outside,” Celestia told her Guards. They obeyed, and began to examine a few of the blacksmith’s finished works.

The house wasn’t small, nor big, it was just right. Nothing overly sinister about it was to be seen inside. While there was a sword display, Celestia’s experience told her at a glance these were blunt prop swords, representing iconic weapons from various forms of pop-culture. Presumably, the blacksmith had a side business in products aimed at devoted tabletop players such types, much like a certain young stallion, a promising recruit whom Celestia knew had caught Cadance’s eye.

Celestia briefly smiled at the image, reality soon calling her back to attention. On that note, she saw evidence of the blacksmith’s own family life, further upon the same wall as the sword display. Pictures of him and his wife, and a now three-month-old foal, if the picture frame was to be believed.

Short Fuse, who’d excused himself for the kitchen, walked back into his living room, carrying a kettle.

“Have a seat, Yer Highness,” said the blacksmith, indicating an empty couch. “So, what’s happened?”

“He hired a group to steal an egg, they got caught, and one of them denounced him,” Celestia said, cautiously seating herself. “Polymath then implicated you specifically for the first attempt. I’m willing to let you get ahead of this, but I need names. Partners, contacts, anything.”

“I donae mind testifyin’ against him,” Short Fuse grunted, pouring her a cup of tea. “I can get ya me partners’ names, ma’am. But they’re dead.”

That was an interesting fact. It would also explain why he was the one implicated, and not a team.

“Care to repeat that?” said Celestia, accepting the cup.

“They’re all dead. It’s a long story.”

He sighed, before taking a seat in an armchair. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and listed off name, after name, after name.

If Celestia had to guess, comparing their names to missing cases would likely solve a few mysteries.

“That was it fer our main group.” Short Fuse said once he’d finished. “We also had two consultants, what helped us durin’ our trip there. On the way, they taught us how to restrain larger creatures, or hide from ‘em if they was five storeys tall. Their names were Snap Shutter and Mane Allgood.” He released another pained sigh. “They shouldnae have been there. But they needed money fer an expedition down South. They couldnae get a loan, had a little girl at home that needed carin’ fer. When they were approached by me boss, an’ heard ‘bout the job, they saw their chance an’ took it. Fer them, twas’ one bitty dirty job. Then they’d be all set ta care fer their daughter.”

“I see,” said Celestia, who sipped her tea, deep in thought. “And they helped you track a dragon?”

“Honestly? We got lucky. Found one dragon with an egg squattin’ in a cave three miles within the Equestrian border. Within. Thing is, this was a wee dragon. Maybe six, seven feet tall. Stood on her hindlegs, had on these heavy robes, carried a greatsword wit’ a long handle. She had her egg in an ornate case, an’ was whisperin’ ta it in a baby-voice as she warmed herself in front of the fire. That’s when some of us had a sudden notion, maybe we was doin’ somethin’ wrong. But after voicin’ those reservations, we decided morals could go by the wayside… See, most of us wanted the dosh fer booze, happy pills n’ floozies.”

There was a lethal venom in his voice, laced with a hint of regret.

“We sent in a pegasus, gave him a spear, an’ he flew forward fast. Dragon had just enough time to turn ‘round before he ran her through. We thunk that was it, but she refused ta die. She was mad an’ strong, but we had numbers, an’ she’d just been stabbed. One would feign ta attack, someone else would come from behind ta slash her. After the fourth, maybe fifth cut, she fell to her knees, began cryin’, yellin’ at us ta leave them alone.”

Short Fuse paused. He leaned over the arm of his chair, opened a cabinet, brought out a nearly untouched bottle of scotch and took a large gulp, slamming the bottle on the table nearby.

“She was just a mother protectin’ her child. That was it.”

“What were you doing during all of this?”

“Nuthin’. I froze. I’d just turned eighteen. Told myself this was gon’ be like a fantasy novel. Slay a drake, grab some damn quest item. I didnae–” He chuckled dryly. “Didnae expect reality. Allgood was the same. She just shut down. Snap slashed her back once, heard her whimperin’ an’ weepin’, an’ stopped. Think he was disgusted with hisself.”

Again, regret. They all must have realized too late that this wasn’t a mere animal, but a mother. Someone who would do anything to keep her child safe, like they would.

“So,” Celestia said, “if you were able to bring her to her knees, how did she kill everyone?”

“She didnae,” said Short Fuse. “We was about–”

“Why ‘we’? I thought you didn’t attack her.”

“Cos’ I was there!” he snapped. His voice was filled with loathing and his face twisted into something monstrous. But none of it was aimed at her. “I didnae help her, I didnae try ta stop ‘em. Just stood there. Didnae matter. A-fore we could kill her, the other dragons came.”

Other dragons? Celestia leaned forward. How could word of this not have reached Torch? Four witnesses, a victim, all the makings of an international incident. Yet this was the first she’d heard of it.

“They were ‘bout as tall as the mother. Three of ‘em, one emerald-green, one purple, an’ the last one–” He shuddered at the memory. “Just lookin’ at him felt wrong. He wore a cloak. Got a glimpse of him under his hood in the firelight. Dark scales, yellow eyes… His face, it looked cracked, like the bloke was made of glass. He took one look at what was happenin’, an’ laughed. He snapped his claws an’ his lackeys started droppin’ us a-fore we could react. Then it was just me an’ Allgood. They approached her first. She begged to be spared, if nae for her sake, then her little girl’s.”

Celestia felt pity for the unknown mare. Knowing that her child would be left alone in the world must have been a pain worse than losing her husband. She was probably like Short Fuse. Frozen in her spot, wishing she could go back in time and say no when asked. She likely saw the mother with her egg, and saw herself and her daughter.

“Weird part? I could see it on the mother’s face. Understandin’. The way she cradled that egg as she looked at Allgood. I think she wanted ta let her go… but the others didnae.”

He stared off into space, his eyes wide as if they were seeing the scene playout in real time. Several loud gulps followed.

“I see. So, how did you survive?” Celestia asked.

“The mother. After what they did ta Allgood, she saw me, a stupid bairn what just turned eighteen, an’ decided to cut me loose. She couldnae be too kind about it, though. Kicked the stuffin’ outta me, slashed me leg down to the tendons, an’ told me ta start crawlin’.”

Celestia tensed. What he did was wrong, to be sure, but this retribution struck her as cruel. “I wouldn’t call that merciful.”

“Nae at that moment, it wasnae. Felt like I was gon’ die. I was screamin’, beggin’, cursin’… An’ she just went through with it. Lookin’ back, twas’ a slap on the flank, next ta what the others did ta Allgood. I was in a gang that’d tried ta take her baby, but she let me go. It was enough fer the others. Except fer that other guy… He just stared at her like she’d sinned. I could feel myself gon’ in shock, but it suddenly faded. I felt a surge of strength. She barked at me ta crawl an’ I heeded her. I didnae stop… didnae stop.”

Short Fuse looked over his prosthetic leg.

“Yaks found me, brought me to a village to recover. Too late fer me leg. Still, after that, I managed to put me life back together. Polymath paid me hush money, and I never looked back… So, what happens now?”

“Depends, how long ago was this?”

“‘Bout four years ago. We set out in late June, I think.”

Late June. Right around the time of Twilight’s test. If they had come back around early July, had the egg been on display for a week or two, then it would have been present the same day the Rainboom happened. Had the attack succeeded, it all would have been for not. Twilight would have hatched the egg, and Polymath would have been caught.

Except the attack had failed, which left her only one question to ask. What should she do?

She looked at the blacksmith, his body tense, eyes flicking towards the picture of his newborn. Was this not why she granted mercy to so many scoundrels, so they could have a chance to build back their lives? Short Fuse showed regret for his actions, tried to move on. He tried to be better, found an honest job. Then there was the fact no-one had come forward. The victim herself had cut him loose, and never reported the attack to Torch. It was as if she too wanted to move on from the attack, let Short Fuse be.

“The mother was willing to give you mercy. For her sake, I’ll do the same.” Celestia stood. “For now, until Polymath is extradited, you died in a very unfortunate forge accident.”

Celestia watched as his body relaxed.

“Thank ya, Princess.”

Celestia bowed her head, and left. She prayed she was doing the right thing leaving him alone. She would compare the names he’d given her to missing ponies. If they matched up, then it would give credence to his story.

She reviewed the tale in her head, trying to see if there was anything wrong with it on its own, but nothing seemed to pop out at her, at least in regards to the ponies.

The part that stuck out was regarding the dragons. Why had no-one come forward about the attack? Even if the mother wanted to spare Short Fuse, she could have easily told Torch that all the attackers had been slain. There was no reason to stay quiet about it. Even if this happened within Equestria’s borders, Celestia would have done everything in her power to make it right.

That was something else that bothered her. Inside the Equestrian border. There were certainly dragons that lived in Equestria. They lived in remote caves or mountain tops, but a normal fact was that they were towering titans, much bigger than six or seven feet. Why would a teenager be found inside her nation’s border with an egg? How did the other three know where to find her? Perhaps one of them was the father? To dragons, Equestria was a land filled with monsters, so why risk coming in?

Perhaps these were questions for another time, and for someone else. What Torch didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt him. All that mattered for the moment was keeping her end of the bargain. She let out a held breath, and tried not to think about what she was about to do.

Celestia had left for the day yet again, and Twilight was growing increasingly anxious. At least this time, Celestia told her she was only going to Trottingham, meaning she ought to return that very evening, but it seemed that every time Celestia was away on princessy business nowadays, she came back miserable.

To prepare for Celestia’s return, Twilight spent the whole afternoon in the Palace courtyard with Flash, Timber and all of her school friends, under the careful supervision of Cadance.

It was the biggest waste of time in her life so far, but the Princess was sure to be happy because of it. Twilight had written forms confirming that, yes, she did play with them. Tag. Knights & Wizards – where she was unfortunately the princess, despite the fact that she’d have made a much better evil wizard than Timber. Hide & Seek. Hyperspace Hyperwars. Redlight-Greenlight.

One by one, her friends tired of the games and left. Eventually, it was only Cadance and Twilight. The sun came to set over Canterlot and still Twilight refused to go. Cadance humored her, continuing a few of the games with Twilight. Then even Cadance grew tired and they both sat themselves on a bench, waiting.

When a Guard approached Cadance to tell them Celestia was back, Twilight was quick to go and see her, not running, yet keeping a fast pace in her stride. She even told the Guards her name and who she was there to see. And Twilight opened the door to her teacher’s room, to find her sitting before a roaring fire.

“Princess?” Twilight said, slowly trotting into the room.

Celestia didn’t turn towards her, she just sat staring into the fireplace, the light dancing all across her face and the room.

Twilight trotted further, taking a seat next to her mentor, before laying her head against her withers. “I played with a few foals. The games were, uh, fun.”

This earned her a chuckle. Celestia smiled as she finally turned her head and looked down at the filly.

“You are an awful liar, Twilight Sparkle. How terrible was it?”

“It was the worst, Princess! Flash and Timber just kept fighting and laughing and ‘powering up’ whatever that meant. They just squatted and yelled a lot before punching each other! No one could ever find my hiding place–”

“Did you leave the area they were playing in and go to the library?”

Twilight stayed silent for a few moments. “Maybe. Worse, I played my brother’s game and now I’m agreeing with Blueblood of all ponies! It’s nice that he has fun, but they’re toys! He and his friends are playing with toys! He should just admit he’s playing with toys!”

This got Celestia to smirk. “Well, I’m glad you made an effort.”

“How was your princess business?”

“Awful,” Celestia said. “I had to make difficult choices, and couldn’t get what I wanted.”

“But, you’re the Princess, you should be able to get whatever you want!”

“Oh, Twilight, that’s not how things work. Even Princesses need to make compromises and sacrifices. Sometimes, there’s no getting what we want, and that’s hard.”

Celestia tried to think positive. Justice was served, wasn’t it? Except for Air Break, now free as a bird. A dragon had been killed, ponies were almost certainly dead, and all she could do was sit in her bedroom watching the dancing flames in her fireplace.

Twilight saw the sorrow on her teacher’s face and gave her a hug, burying her face in her soft coat. Celestia sighed, knowing that she didn’t deserve this filly. Her wing wrapped around the little unicorn, bringing her in close, and held her long into the night.

Author's Note

Sorry for taking so long, but here is the next chapter of Our Little Brother featuring ponies.

Hyperspace Hyperwars is a reference to this comic here

Special thanks to my editor for his assistance and over all patience.

Speaking of my editor, do you like Dragon Siblings, Smolder and Garble, well written stories, or the name Garbuncle Ironscale? If yes to any of these, go check out VoxAdams' story, A Rainy Day In The Dragonlands. It's a good story.

Chapter 22: Shattered Trust

For the last hour, Topaz had lain waiting in silence, pondering, her rows of vials and tinctures untouched. Before her lay sprawled, on the floor of the cave, one of the various objects which a dragon would have struggled to craft by themselves, here in the sparse environment of the Dragonlands. A rubber mannequin shaped like a small drake, complete with foldable wings on its back. Topaz had carved an incision into the mannequin for today’s lesson with young Gemstone, to help her practice her sutures.

Seeing the statue littered with closed gashes and sutures, she knew that she'd eventually need to replace the mannequin, and truth be told, Topaz felt faintly uneasy at the sight of even the faux wound. After everything that had happened with the ponies, the sight drudged up old memories from before Meadowbrook. She tried not to reflect too long though, they were better left in a box in the back of her head.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” a voice called out.

Topaz watched as Gemstone Steelspine stumbled into the cave, her eyes gone bloodshot. Red eyes might indicate rage and the thirst for violence in a dragon, and Topaz could tell just from looking that Gemstone was not in a good place right now. Certainly not a sound state of mind for a healer-in-waiting to be practicing medicine.

But Topaz also knew the redness in her apprentice’s eyes, born from grief, was no sign of mere bloodlust. Although Gemstone would seek to conceal it as any dragon would, even now rubbing her eyes as if wiping sleep-dust away, there was no fooling Topaz. Gemstone had been crying. With how she looked, likely most of the night. Still she had chosen to appear today, at the appointed time for her lessons. As if all were normal.

“Is there anything you need done, Master?” Gemstone asked, getting to her knees.

“No,” Topaz said, keeping any emotion out of her voice. “You should go home, Gemstone. You are in no condition to work today.”

“I’m fine, Master,” Gemstone assured her, again rubbing her eyes.

It was obvious that she was trying to keep her tear-stained cheeks from shining in the sunlight, which poured in through the cave’s entrance. Such was a trait universal to dragons. Stubbornness. Two could play at that game, however. Topaz pushed the suturing mannequin towards Gemstone, pointing towards the large gash.

“Then if you’re fine, suture this for me. Simple for someone of your talent, is it not?”

“I feel like I’m being talked down to,” muttered Gemstone.

“My apologies, but I need you to show me you can do this. Just stitch that gash in the mannequin, and I won’t doubt you a moment longer.”

Gemstone looked at the make-believe gash and steeled herself. She picked up a needle, and tried her best to keep her claws steady. The needle shook as she brought it close to the mannequin.

The first attempt did not go deep enough. A good tug would pop the stitches, or have them tear through the mannequin’s figurative skin. Fortunately, the insert wasn’t even halfway through. She could still correct the mistake.

She tried again, only this time, she sent the needle deep into the mannequin. Gemstone cursed, and pulled out the needle, thread hanging loose in the hoop.

Her third attempt missed her mark completely, with the needle sent into the opposite end of the gash. Gemstone let out a cry as her claws racked across the material, which had the effect of tearing three new, large gashes.

“Suturing mistakes aside,” Topaz scolded her, “if that was a real dragon, you would have just killed them.”

“I know!” Gemstone snapped. She took a deep, calming breath. “I know. I just-I need to focus on something, anything, that's not Onyx.”

“I know it must hurt, but you need time to mourn, Gemstone. Time to process. Your mental well-being is just as important as your physical well-being. You’re upset–”

“Of course I am!” Gemstone hissed. “Torch and that damn pony princess, they let two slayers go free! Two slayers, for one sniveling coward! They all deserved to burn. Every last one of those beasts!”

The rage had only been growing inside Gemstone, ever since she and her family had been allowed to face Polymath, the pony who had caused them a near-endless amount of grief. He’d told them everything he knew about the first attack. About the unknown mother, how adolescent dragons had come to save her, and how one slayer managed to escape and still roamed free after having sought to rob a mother of her child.

Upon hearing such an accusation, Torch nearly sent paladins to drag Celestia before him to explain, but he'd taken a moment to think before giving such an order. To Torch, there was something odd about the story. Eventually, the Dragon Lord had talked it out with his mate. A smart move, Blaze had a good head on her shoulders.

Perhaps Topaz was imagining things, yet Torch seemed to have changed some. He was a bit wiser, not as quick to anger, a tad more open to criticism and advice. He was also growing tired, day by day, bit by bit. She wondered how long it was before he finally stepped down, and passed the scepter on to a new Lord.

“Allegedly,” Topaz told her student. “It’s not a tale that holds water, Gemstone. If ever a dragon were attacked by slayers, the Dragon Lord, every dragon in existence, would have been told about it, the rescuers would never cease bragging about it, nor should they. That pony was lying to you, Gemstone.”

“No,” said Gemstone. “He kept babbling the name Short Fuse. The pony Celestia took was called Air Break. There’s another slayer out there. We're expected to just let them go. Dragons at least make sure transgressors are punished.”

Instantly, Topaz’s thoughts turned to Gemstone’s father. Ever since Kalamet attacked Torch, Gemstone’s father had become a divisive figure. Some saw him as just, others as a treasonous wretch. Regardless of what most thought, Flare had empathized enough with him so that Kalamet’s sentence was nothing more than a slap on the wrist. It did worry Topaz that Gemstone didn’t speak about it. Perhaps it was because the blood money they lost had come from Celestia so it wasn’t worth being upset over, perhaps it was due to most of it going to Topaz’s family instead. It was hard to argue with that decision, though. Kalamet had sought to strike his Lord, and Flare had defended his Lord.

“We know for a fact that there’s one slayer,” said Topaz, hoping against hope to divert Gemstone’s train of thought. “He was let go so Celestia could deliver his employer to Torch. Anything else is conjecture. Show me the victim, show me the rescuers, anything that lends credence to the story.”

She knew Gemstone couldn't. Not that there hadn’t been a lack of trying. Torch had called every dragon between the ages of sixteen and fifty, the age when a dragon's height would range from six to eight feet. But not a single one bore signs of getting run through with a spear, nor did any claim to be victimized by dragon slayers. Every adolescent or recently turned-adult dragon had been called upon as well, yet none came forward as victims or heroes.

Torch would have rewarded the rescuers handsomely if they had. Their deed would have been celebrated throughout the land, for defending a poor mother and her child. Yet despite a dragon’s love for fortune and glory, there was nobody to claim such a boon. There was nothing to substantiate the story, so it had to be false. Nothing more than a desperate lie by a stallion trying to save himself.

Topaz saw anger in her apprentice’s eyes.

“My father,” whispered Gemstone, two words which almost got Topaz to flinch. “My father was told by Air Break that there’d been another failed attack, it was the only reason he was let go. He had heard it from his employer. Everyone seems happy to overlook this.”

“Gemstone,” Topaz said softly. “Let’s concede that this Polymath was telling the truth. So what? The victim likely thought it best to let it go. If she didn’t step forward, then, ugly as it is to say, she may even have felt too ashamed to talk. She was in Equestria, of all places. She had to have known the risks. Whatever the reason for not talking to Torch, this Polymath was the root cause. Take solace that he is dealt with.”

“‘So what’?” Gemstone repeated, almost choking on her incredulity. “Two slayers are still out there! One who attacked a girl my age for her egg! The other helped murder my brother! How dare you!”

Topaz shrunk back. That was a poor choice of words, to say the least.

“Forgive me, Gemstone,” Topaz said, abashed. “You have a right to be angry, but I need to know something. Suppose that the slayers were brought before you, to do with as you will, would you feel better then?”

“Of course I would.”

“Are you sure? I have known many dragons who have harbored similar grudges in my time. They were rarely satiated by dealing with those who had wronged them. Most were never satiated. I don’t want to see you go down that path.”

Gemstone’s fists clenched. “Like you can talk. You’ve never lost anyone to those murderers.”

Topaz’s eyes narrowed this time, and she stood up.

“You’re right, no renegade swinging a spear took my loved ones. They were felled by worse. Do not forget, Gemstone, I lived through the war that birthed Magnus and Grimhoof’s ilk. I saw the carnage they could bring. Do not say I don’t know what you’re going through.”

It was Gemstone’s turn to shrink.

“Apologies, Master.”

A short silence prevailed in the cave, before Topaz released a sigh. “If you need something to do, take inventory. See if we need any balms made. If we do, make them.”

Gemstone bowed her head and left to the back of the cave.

Topaz was again left alone to stare down at the sliced-up mannequin. She rubbed her temples and tried to drown out the noise of pounding drums inside her head. It only took half an hour until her apprentice returned, treading softly.

“Balms and ointments are in good supply,” Gemstone murmured. “However, I’ve found that we’re lacking bandages and rinsing solutions.”

Topaz raised her head and began to run the numbers mentally. It had been about three months since her last visit to Squires Gate, three months since her last visit to the village. Long enough for those precious supplies to run low. Topaz knew she needed to fetch more immediately, but bringing Gemstone to the village was out of the question.

“Then we truly are done for the day. Go home.”

“What? But you said–”

“I know what I said,” Topaz told her firmly. “We are stocked up on ointments and balms. Go home. Rest. Spend time with Slicer.”

“But, I can help. If you take me with you, it would take half the time to–”

“No. Forage for a good gem if you must, but I shall handle the supplies.”

Topaz’s tone was sharp, signaling to her student that she would not allow a rebuttal. To emphasize her point, she pushed her apprentice towards the mouth of the cave, giving her a stern look.

Gemstone’s face fell, realizing that there'd be no point in arguing. Beating her wings, she lifted herself into the air and listlessly made her way home.

Topaz, watched as she vanished into the horizon, and waited for a short while, staring heavily into the craggy expanse of the Dragon Lands, until finally, with a sigh, she too took to the skies.

Unbeknownst to her master, Gemstone had paused her flight once she was behind cloud cover.

She recalled that her Master had always told her that the place to find bandages, sutures, and disinfectant was a trade secret, which she’d let her in on once she was ready. However, that seemed unusual to her. Why keep the Foraging spot a secret to start with? The common dragon couldn’t care less about medical supplies unless they were actually hurt, and even then, it was cheap enough to see a healer for such matters.

The only thing that came to her mind was a raid. If Topaz had to raid a village every time she needed supplies, there was a real reason to keep her ignorant until she was ready. A tiny part of her mind told her it wasn’t surprising, dragons didn't have the materials to make such items. She pushed those thoughts aside almost immediately, growling under her breath. Topaz would sooner die than risk something like a raid. Her master was too gentle in that regard. There had to be something else.

Whatever the reason, Topaz was still strong enough to brave a journey. Gemstone envied that. She felt diminished, weak and she had no desire to feel weak, especially now of all times. Her master had already seen her in far too vulnerable a place with her failures at today’s tasks. If a healer faced a difficult and dangerous task in acquiring these materials, she should find out just what to expect.

She waited, moment by moment, with bated breath, watching from behind the cloud while down below, Topaz did nothing at all. Nothing except stare into the distance. From this distance, and her sights made hazy by the billowing wisps of the cloud, Gemstone could not discern the look in her eyes.

At long last, Topaz took off, and Gemstone followed her master.

She followed her for hours, always keeping a safe distance. The day was cloudy, giving her cover, but it helped that a grown dragon never had anything to fear in the skies. As such, they would never think to do something as simple and easy as looking up.

If Gemstone’s senses could be trusted, judging by the position of the sun at this hour, they were heading North-West, towards the sea. Sure enough, beyond the lip of the horizon, a streak of blue soon appeared, and Topaz still continued on, leaving their land behind until only water stretched beneath her. This was not too unexpected. Impoverished as the griffons of the North were, there’d be little to get from them. Somewhere South was Klugetown, which was no better, if not worse. Gemstone wasn’t entirely sure what lay East.

Gemstone’s nerves began to get to her as time marched on. They had crossed the sea, and yet Topaz had not stopped in the jungle. The land was growing greener, while the air acquired a moisture that was lacking in either the Dragonlands or the Forbidden Jungle. Gemstone couldn’t help suspecting the two of them had crossed over into Equestria by now.

‘No wonder she said I should forage for a gem instead,’ Gemstone thought, a slight chill running up her spine. Was her master searching for ruins? This was not the jungle, forbidden to all but intrepid creatures such as dragons. Everything here looked so fresh and lively. Time continued to pass, perhaps another half an hour, before finally Gemstone saw her master’s destination. Her heart seized. Topaz was flying towards a pony village, an inhabited one.

Had madness taken her master? Was this the foraging she had to do every time they needed supplies? Raids on villages in Equestria itself? How had war not broken out? How had Celestia not demanded blood? Surely, if Topaz had attacked pony villages, slayers would be swarming their lands by now. She thought about the supplies that Topaz would get, how important they were for their work. Would Topaz need any help? Her help? Could she even help if needed?

Overwhelmed, Gemstone flew up and behind a stray cloud, lower than the rest in the sky. Seeing the small specks she knew were ponies, Gemstone felt her blood freeze and then slowly boil. She could only watch as her master landed near the village and slowly advanced towards it. She waited, and waited, feeling the urge to cry for her master, until she noticed something odd. There was no screaming, roaring, nor cries of terror. The ponies seemed calm.

What was stranger was that Topaz seemed to be communing with the ponies. Little foals stopped, waved to her, some even seemed to hug her. Gemstone tried to process what it was she was seeing. Topaz was talking with them, she could even just about hear her faint chuckles and joyful hums.

Gemstone’s insides began to churn. Without thinking, she flew back the way she came as fast as she could, unable to make sense of what she’d seen.

She flew for what felt like days, until upon reaching the shore of the Dragon Lands, she saw a cave in the closest mountainside, and darted straight for it, landing and falling to her knees. Tremors wracked her body. Her claws were clamped around her mouth as she felt the bile rise, only barely holding it down.

Countless questions surged through her mind. But soon, she found herself asking the same question that had nagged at her ever since Onyx was killed.

How had the slayers found them? How could they have known her mother had an egg? Torch told her family it was mere happenstance, but had it been? What if someone told them? Topaz communed with those creatures, getting supplies from them. The foals and bigger ponies alike looked happy to see her, so it was obvious she was no threat to them. But if that was so, what was the cost of those supplies? Topaz didn’t have gold with her. What if, and it was a terrifying possibility, what if the cost was something else?

Scavenging. Gemstone scoffed. She had so naively believed that lie. Yes, her master foraged perfectly preserved bandages, needles and thread, and disinfectant. It was much easier to buy it for a price was it not? Those books and mannequins had likely come from the same place. What did those cost? A clan name, a cave that had an egg? Was that what her little brother was worth? A few books Smolder could read? And Topaz had likely made sure her family was safe. No use in placing them at risk, after all. Gemstone finally found the strength to stand, and flew back home, faster than ever.

She did not know that, back at the village, she had been spotted. Albeit not by her master.

Topaz walked through the streets of Squires Gate. Taking time to enjoy the relatively cool air. Summer had come once again, and children ran about, free from the watchful gaze of both their parents and teachers. Many foals waved and hugged her, some shouted their greetings. Others were too involved in their games to notice her, no more than they noticed any other adult. While seeing children act so carefree carried a slightly bitter edge to it, knowing what had happened to Gemstone and her family, Topaz nonetheless let it act as a balm upon her heart.

She soon came to her usual supplier, who was waiting on the stand which opened out onto the street. General Supplies, read the sign above the store, accurate if a little prosaic. Next to the store clerk was a pretty large crate for a pony, though a mere wedding-ring box for a dragon. The crate was labeled, with the inscription saying nothing more than ‘Topaz’.

The store clerk held a puzzle-book open and was mumbling as he tried to solve the current challenge.

“Hello, Topaz,” the clerk waved, without looking up. “Hmm, no, five wouldn’t work there.”

“I suppose it’s the usual price, then?” Topaz asked amiably.

She felt her side for the bag that usually held gold and jewelry as payment, but felt nothing.

“Damn it,” Topaz groaned, realizing she must have forgotten it back home. After coming all this way, too. “I do apologize, little one, but I haven’t brought my usual payment. If you could please hold these until–”

“Just take them, we know you’re good for it,” the clerk assured, focused on his game. “Nine goes here, seven goes here,” he muttered to himself, “meaning that– No, it doesn't work.”

Tongue between his lips, the store clerk began to erase his mistakes.

Topaz chuckled quietly and lifted up the crate, only to pause when a new voice called out her name. Her head turned, and she saw an old, white-maned stallion approach her. Page Turner. He was not merely old, he was a bony stallion now.

“Hold on, Topaz,” breathed the village elder. “Glad I caught you just in time. You’ve got another box waiting for you. Weren’t you told?”

Either hearing the tone in Page Turner’s voice, or sensing the glare on his forehead, the store clerk finally looked up from his Sudoku, cheeks flushed.

“Oh,” said the clerk, abashed. “Sorry, yeah. Hold on.”

He leaned down to bring out a small wooden chest, small enough that a pony could easily lift it.

“What are these?” Topaz asked, peering inside the chest.

“Gifts,” explained Page Turner. “You said you were looking for a few things last time. Special things. We figured you might like them.”

She examined the content of the wooden chest. To her relief, it was not too much, after all. The chest contained a little outfit, a little frilly dress just about Smolder’s size, and another book all about princesses and love. For Spike, there was a toy sword and shield, like the ones on the cover of Burnferno. In fact, the gift-givers had even included the next book in that series.

“Those are good gifts,” Topaz acquiesced. “Thank you, Page Turner. But young dragons shouldn’t get too much. They tend to get greedy.”

“Bah, if your grandchildren are anything like you, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” the old stallion said. “Besides, I’m feeling my age, Topaz. Best give gifts while I still can.”

At this, Topaz frowned. It had nearly been a century since she first saw Page Turner, held by his mother, scarcely able to move his newborn body. She didn’t need to leave right away. Topaz made herself comfortable on the cobbled street, and asked Page Turner if he had time to talk.

The two spoke for nearly two hours. They talked about how the world had changed from their youth, and what hopes they have for the young in their twilight years. The hopes they had for the newest Alicorn Princess, and Garble’s misadventures with the little princess, and his dream of being Dragon Lord.

Once Page Turner at last retired to his little bookshop opposite to the general supply store, Topaz was quite ready to turn and leave, her packages in hand.

That is, if she hadn’t felt a tug on her spiked tail.

She turned her head to see little Star Tracker desperately trying to get her attention. He was a young foal, freckled, his coat some shade of purple that complemented his blond mane, although Topaz could not put a name to it. He had recently earned his cutie mark, which given its starry design. This likely pertained to his fascination with astronomy, but for all she knew, he was simply good at magic.

“Hello, little one. Do you need something?”

“Not really, I just wanted to know who the dragon with you was.”

“Beg pardon?” Topaz said, stiffening.

Star Tracker shrugged. “I saw a dragon leave after you came. Do you know them?”

Topaz paled and she swallowed a stone that had formed in her throat. She prided herself on dragons not following her when she visited Squires Gate. She loved the town and was happier knowing that dragons only knew about this place if she chose to tell them. By that logic, when a little foal like Star Tracker told her he’d seen a dragon following her, she had cause for concern.

“Did you recognize them?” Topaz quickly asked.

“No.”

“Did you see what they looked like?”

“I dunno. Dark, I guess. They were pretty far away.”

“Could you guess their size?”

“Uh, I’d say small. They looked really small, smaller than you. Why?”

Instantly Topaz’s mind turned to Gemstone.

Time and time again the older dragon had pictured bringing her apprentice to the village and introducing her to the friendly equines who lived here. Now she wished that her student didn’t know what an equine was, much less about Squires Gate.

But perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. Suppose it wasn’t Gemstone, what then? Now that they knew the town existed, what would the unknown dragon do, what would they think? Should she risk leaving the village now to pursue the spy? What if they were too far ahead of her? What if they planned to return as soon as possible to terrorize the town, and in larger numbers? Could she afford to leave Squires Gate unguarded?

It was her fault a dragon had not only found the the town, but seen her visiting it.

“Star Tracker, thank you for telling me about our little guest,” Topaz said, forcing herself to smile at the foal. “I guess she was just shy. It happens to everyone, even dragons. I’ll be sure to properly introduce you another day. Why don’t you run along now?”

He nodded and waved goodbye, heading towards a little pond in the nearby park where his friends waited for him.

Topaz took a deep breath, before leaving to talk with the mayor.

Celestia had hoped that she would never again hear the word ‘dragon’ for at least a year, yet she was being summoned to speak with one at the request of a town official.

The telegraph system set up throughout Equestria was not the fastest means of communication, compared to some magical options Celestia had known back in the day. But it was the one most inexpensive and available for public use. Evening had broken by the time the message reached her. Not for the first time, Celestia wondered if there wasn’t a spell Starswirl wrote that could help messages reach her faster. If she ever sent Twilight out into the world when she was older, such a spell would be invaluable.

Celestia arrived at the outskirts of Squires Gate as her sun began to set. She chose to teleport to the town. Although it cost a taxing amount of mana, even for an alicorn as powerful as herself, the matter was urgent enough to warrant the cost. This also meant that she could only bring a skeleton crew of Guards along with her.

Once the three of them had appeared in a flash, accompanied by the familiar smell of ozone, Celestia motioned for her guards to leave her alone with the dragon, which they obliged. The dragon in question was unusually calm and collected. She did not seek to intimidate Celestia, she just looked at her strangely.

“I am Princess Celestia of Equestria,” greeted Celestia. “To whom am I speaking?”

Her voice was clear, and she spoke with an authority that made everyone, even foals, stand at attention. Everyone, save for the dragon, a creature who stood perhaps two stories tall.

“Topaz Goldwing of Clan Goldwing.” The dragon tilted her head to the side. “I always thought you’d be bigger, more imposing,” added Topaz, after a short silence.

Celestia straightened herself. “As opposed to what?”

“So small, so old, and so tired.”

The words were blunt, yet bluntness was a draconic trait. Celestia doubted she meant to be rude. ‘Tired’ was an appropriate word for her. Few creatures were as old as she. She wondered how old this dragon must be, for her to see past her youthful exterior and glimpse at the ancient pony that she was.

“Madam Topaz. You said it was urgent you speak to me. Let me ask, what are you doing here?”

“Purchasing medical equipment. I’ve been alive a long time, Your Majesty. I’m what you might call a doctor. I came to Squires Gate for my supplies, as I have done for centuries.”

“I know,” Celestia said simply. “I have been aware of your shopping habits for some time, Madam. I would have liked to speak with you in the past, but I felt you might consider it intrusive.”

Squires Gate had always been a richer town than its humble origins and isolated placing would suggest. Where that wealth came from had been a mystery for Canterlot’s accounting office, until Celestia had chosen to investigate surreptitiously, some decades ago. After which the answer had come to light rather quickly. A dragon did her shopping here.

Admittedly, the covert side of Celestia who liked to indulge in steamy mystery noir novellas was hoping for a drug-smuggling ring that needed to be stopped by a handsome and tragic stallion who needed a gentle and cultured mare to mend his heart.

“What makes today different?” Celestia asked.

“Today I was followed,” Topaz said, frowning.

Celestia felt her stomach twist. “Followed. You mean by another dragon. Do you know by whom?”

“I cannot say with absolute certainty, but I have a hunch. You remember the egg that was shattered by slayers, correct?”

“Yes,” Celestia said as the memory filled her with sadness, for more than one reason. “I turned those involved in that incident over to Lord Torch.”

“Some would beg to differ,” Topaz scoffed. “I believe a stallion named Air Break was let go. When his employer was delivered to Torch, the name Short Fuse came up once or twice in that pony’s babblings.”

“Air Break was released on the condition he give me the name of his employer,” said Celestia. “Lord Torch agreed to that proposition.”

“And what can you say about this Short Fuse?” Topaz demanded. “Many of us think his existence is a lie. But I do wonder, did you hide a slayer from us?”

Celestia took a deep breath. “Like I said, I turned everyone involved in this incident over to Torch. No more, no less.”

“I see.” Topaz gave Celestia another look-over. There had been another attack. A failed one, all things considered. Why had no one said anything? Why had Celestia said nothing?

Topaz glanced around, and saw the numerous pony villagers who milled around in the failing light of the evening, to observe the conversation. A meeting between the princess and the town’s beloved thirty-foot dragon could not be ignored. There would inevitably be gossip.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, and assume your reason is a noble one,” said Topaz. “The dragon that followed me won’t be so merciful. Us dragons treasure family more than we do our hoards. I believe I was followed by a dragon named Gemstone Steelspine.”

Alarm bells flared in Celestia’s mind. “No,” she said in a horrified whisper.

“You know her?” Topaz tilted her head.

“Not exactly. I met a Steelpine, Kalamet Steelspine,” Celestia said, recalling the towering dragon. The mourning father who’d placed the shattered egg before her. They wouldn’t take their fury out on an innocent town. Or would they?

“So you see the issue,” sighed Topaz. “Gemstone is grieving, she’s not in her right mind.”

It was Celestia’s turn to look over the dragon. The fear she saw in those eyes unsettled her too. “Except there’s something else, isn’t there?”

“I see something growing in her,” Topaz said darkly. “I’ve seen it before in dragons who lost their loved ones to slayers. They lash out, hurting those that were innocent to their loss. I’m holding out hope, trying to help her see reason. She’s a healer, after all. We try to dissuade needless violence.”

“But you’re not sure that you can.”

Celestia, Sun Princess of Equestria, understood all too well the position this dragon was in. She felt her heart go out then to Topaz Goldwing. She herself had failed twice. Like she had failed Luna, the Moon Princess, her dear sister. Like she had failed Sunset Shimmer, who was her student.

“Do you plan on getting Torch involved?” Celestia asked. Surely if Torch knew, he would put a stop to it.

“I do,” Topaz said, “but similar orders have been issued before by other Lords, and they were promptly ignored. A Dragon Lord’s voice compels dragons to an extent, but it does not rob us of our free will. I tremble at the thought of Torch’s decree being ignored. This village, its people have helped our lands, my people, my family. I want them safe. I suggest that you evacuate the town.”

With that, Topaz fell silent. Celestia waited a short while for the dragon to continue, but soon she released a sigh and met Topaz’s gaze with determined eyes.

“Madam, I cannot let a dragon fly into my kingdom and raze a village. Empty or otherwise, tragedy or no.”

“But you can let two slayers evade justice.”

It was a low blow, but it did ring true. One slayer was sympathetic, the other was sociopathic. One slayer froze once the reality of his actions dawned on him, the other hadn’t cared. Both had been able to walk. One slayer because the mother, and now Celestia, stayed silent, the other because Celestia and Torch made a deal.

“What would you have me do?” Celestia finally asked, falling to her haunches. She rubbed her eyes. “Renege on my promises? Should I let this Gemstone run loose until she decides to stop?” She sighed. “Torch let one go, the other was hidden from everyone for years, and I only just found out about it.”

She was a mare in a difficult situation, to be sure. It’s not like Topaz’s was much different. Topaz loved Squires Gate, but here she was telling Celestia to let Gemstone raze it in a fit of anger and not lift a hoof to stop her.

“She’s my apprentice, Princess,” Topaz said at last. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“And these are my subjects,” Celestia said. “I can’t just sit by and let their town be destroyed. Tell her that I’m going to station guards to defend this town. They will not hold back if threatened. I know what you must be going through, and I sympathize with you, truly I do.”

“Do you?” Topaz asked. “Have you ever been put in a position like this?”

Celestia seemed to hesitate, infinitesimally, casting a glance at the last glowing line of her sun, gone red, beyond the horizon. When she addressed Topaz, it seemed that she avoided looking at the evening sky, where a few stars had started to shine.

“Her name was Sunset Shimmer,” said the Princess. “I have not seen her in years, and I pray every night I won’t lose another student as I lost her. There were others before her. Always, the people I love. Someone I fell in love with is currently a statue, on display in my garden because he was spreading insanity! Yes, I have been here before, and know what happens when words fail and what needs to be done when they do. Madam Topaz, I’m praying for the best, but am expecting the worst.”

Topaz chided herself. She could tell from just a glance that Celestia had lived for a very long time. Of course she’d know loss and tragedy.

It was worse for the Princess, though. Having to fight your own loved ones. She wondered, would she have that same will if it came to Gemstone? Her mate? Her descendants? Some small part of her was thankful that she wouldn’t need to find out. If the worst did happen, if she couldn’t convince Gemstone or stop her some other way, someone else would.

“She’ll be killed if I can’t dissuade her,” Topaz said mournfully.

“Then dissuade her,” Celestia said quietly, praying that Topaz would reach her apprentice.

Gemstone stumbled into her family’s cave, the day nearly at its end. Gemstone wanted to lay down and sleep, but any fatigue was second to the sick feeling in her stomach. She took another few ragged breaths to calm herself, before continuing on her way. She found her brother asleep, his tail curled about his little body. She shook him awake.

He rubbed his tiny eyes open, allowing them to get used to the evening light that still managed to enter the cave. “Gemstone?” he asked with a yawn.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” She gave her brother a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Didn’t mother feed you already?” Gemstone asked with a chuckle. Her mirth quickly faded as she got a look at her little brother. Slicer had a look, a very unique look when he was hungry. He’d tried to replicate it to get another snack, but it was easy to see through. This was real.

“Let’s get you fed, then.” She went deeper into the cave and took a good sized sapphire from her parent’s hoard.

Slicer happily ate his meal, before asking Gemstone how her day was.

“Enlightening. I do have some good news for you, I’m going to be home more often now.”

“Really? Why?”

“I discovered that being a healer meant doing things I’m not comfortable with. So, I’ve decided to quit.”

That earned her a smile from Slicer. “Does that mean you can help me make Mom feel better?”

Gemstone bit her lower lip. She steeled her nerves. “I think there’s something I can do to help her. Slicer, where’s Mother now?”

“All the way in the back of the cave. She hasn’t moved all day.”

“I see. Could you go outside for a bit? Mother and I need to talk alone.”

Slicer obeyed, unquestioningly. Gemstone took a deep breath as she approached the back of the cave. She found the dragon exactly where her brother had said she would be.

“Mother, how are you?” Gemstone asked. She knelt before the larger dragon, placing her head against her snout, as if to comfort her.

“I’m an awful mother, Gemstone,” Pala said tonelessly.

There was a twinge of discomfort in Gemstone. “Mother, please–”

“Your brother needed me today. He needed comfort, and I just couldn’t give it to him. I could barely move. I just keep thinking about Onyx. My little baby.” Pala silently cried, recalling her precious egg. “Then your brother, he keeps trying to comfort me while I neglect him. I don’t-don’t even know if I fed him today.”

Gemstone bit her lip. “I-I took care of him, Mother. You don’t need to worry. I’m going to be around more often. I can help take care of Slicer, while you take the time you need.”

“I keep failing, Gemstone, and I can’t stop,” Pala said in response, as if she hadn’t heard her daughter.

“No one can expect you to just get over it. I know what it’s like. Knowing he’s still out there, that Torch let a slayer go after what he did to Onyx, that there’s another one just like him out there,” Gemstone kept down a snarl, and looked her mother in the eye. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have something to tell you. I think I know where the slayer is.”

“What?” Pala ceased her crying, her eyes widening.

“Mother, let me tell you about a village my master visited today.”

Chapter 23: How a Dragon Makes a Friend

Ember always hated gatherings.

She hated her mother adorning her in jewelry. Hated the fawning she got from both mother dragons and precocious young drakes. Hated that she wasn’t allowed to fight, as it was ‘inappropriate for any girl, especially the Princess, to brawl at a gathering’. Which wasn’t what her mother used to say. It had been her mother’s suggestion she spar with Garble in the first place, but now she’d spout platitudes about a time and a place. Most of all, she hated gatherings when Garble did not attend. Garble was many things. Stupid, arrogant, stupid, persistent, stupid, and egotistical – but he was also a welcome distraction. Especially when her closest neighbor was Scales Sunwing, who looked almost as bored as her atop her treasure pile.

Without him around, all Ember could do was sit on a pile of gold and gems, and watch as lovestruck boys fought for her favor, hoping they’d move on to Scales or another girl soon. At least, she guessed they were lovestruck. A part of her wondered how many of them actually liked her, and which ones were just trying to get into her Dad’s good graces. Considering such displays happened exclusively at a gathering, perhaps it was the latter only. Something else she could thank Dad for. Once he’d declared her out-of-bounds, revealing she was the Princess, boys were a lot more eager to fight each other over her than they were to fight her. They were terrified at the mere thought of fighting her.

Resting her head in her palm as she watched the scuffling below, Ember held back a snort, knowing her mother wouldn’t approve of the unladylike behavior. Speaking of approval, those boys were too young to understand that gaining her favor would do them no good. While she doubted her father would go so far as to crush a whelp, he’d never stand for any boy to lay their eyes on her, no more than their fists.

She didn’t mind her father’s protectiveness in this case. If there was one thing Ember felt sure of, it was that she didn’t plan to marry. Ever.

“Mind if I sit down?”

It startled Ember to see who had spoken. A little orange dragon stood a few feet away, staring up at her with big blue eyes. By the look of things, while Garble may not have chosen to attend this gathering, the Ironscale Clan had not gone completely unrepresented. Smolder had come wearing jewelry of her own, a gold anklet and bracers.

Ember peered at Smolder, her brow knitting together. She hadn’t dealt with the younger dragon since she spent a week at the Ironscales’ cave. Nights she didn’t want to think about right now. She still needed to punch Garble after he’d wrapped his arm around her on that first night.

“Is it just you here?” Ember asked.

“Oh, um,” Smolder said, in an oddly wavering tone. “Spike came too. He actually wanted to come and Mama said okay, but she’s busy talking with your mama. I’m just watching out for him.”

Indeed, a glance towards the edge of the quarry revealed that Heathspike had attended the gathering, except he had real playmates with him this time. Ember recognised some young drakes, one named Javelin and the other named Tuft. Upon spotting one another, smiles and sounds of excitement filled their little play area, and a fight broke out immediately, if their hugging and wrestling each other to the ground counted as a fight.

The young girls their age who were present had broken up into three groups, each cheering on their favored drake as they tussled. While a drake like Javelin may have the most in his corner due to being considered the cutest of the three boys, Spike’s cheerleaders seemed to be the most passionate. The loudest and most devoted of the bunch was little Jade Spiketail, who cheered for Spike with all her heart, calling on him to win for her.

Ember could now say she hated witnessing Spike's merriment, as it only served to remind her of what she could not do. Holding down the anger that burnt inside her, Ember tore her gaze away, to look at Smolder suspiciously.

“If you’re looking out for him, shouldn’t you be over there?” Ember growled at her. “I didn’t think you’d back off from a fight.”

In truth, Ember wasn’t too sure why she said that. Ironscales were renowned for their feistiness, even amongst dragons, and Smolder should be no exception. Yet now she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Smolder fighting.

Smolder shuffled on her feet, hands behind her back.

“I just felt like watching how my brother handles himself. He doesn’t need me butting in yet. We’re Ironscales, we can fight our own battles!”

From what Ember could tell, it seemed that Spike was doing well. She shrugged. Smolder’s explanation didn’t make total sense to her, but if the smaller dragon couldn’t fight either, they might as well share in their misery. In any case, Smolder couldn’t be a worse neighbor than Scales.

“Fine by me,” Ember said gruffly, gesturing at a spare patch of rock. “So long as you keep it down.”

Without saying a word, but smiling, Smolder took her seat. The smaller dragon could watch what passed for a fight between her brother and other hatchlings if she liked. Ember decided her would-be suitors’ contest might be more interesting after all. Not by much, mind you. When one drake won a fight, he would invariably end up losing to another drake not long after, succumbing to fatigue. The sole exception to the rule was Arrow Firefang. Ember didn’t like him, but she respected him to an extent. Of all the contestants, he wasn’t vying for her hand. He couldn’t care less about her personally, and she knew it.

When Arrow fought, it was to prove he was strong. And prove it he did. He was accepting all challengers, up to a maximum of three drakes at a time. Teams were formed, jokes were made about how a shrimp like Ember had given him a run for his money – the nature of the contest hadn’t stopped the boys from making quips about her short stature, much to Ember’s growing ire – or how Garble had beat him with one punch, yet still Arrow handily stomped them all into the ground.

Much like Spike’s little fight, Ember’s “suitors” had drawn some attention with their contest, from girls who mustn’t have understood what they were fighting about. Or rather, who they were fighting for. Of course, with a string of victories under his belt, Arrow didn’t seem displeased by the attention, but he wasn’t basking in it either. His goal was to remind everyone who he was and what he was capable of. Ember silently scoffed at him. She’d take him seriously when he either beat Garble, or could beat her in a fair rematch. Until then, as far as she was concerned, Arrow was a dragon wearing a bronze medal.

A new contestant entered the ring. There was a collective pause.

The newcomer was one of the girls. With that pink all over her scales, to say nothing of a tail longer than her upper body, it could only be Ballista Axebeak. Briefly, Arrow showed a bemused look on his face, hesitant even, but he then shrugged. Whether Ballista didn’t get the fight’s purpose, or did and just wanted an excuse to brawl, made no difference to him. She had the right to challenge him, and he wasn’t going to turn any fight down. The situation was certainly uncommon at a gathering, but not unheard of.

For her part, Ember didn’t care why Ballista was fighting – only that she disliked the idea of another girl beating Arrow. Feeling her mind wander, Ember peeked to one side and saw that Smolder had stood up, staring and waving at the contestant ring with hopeful eyes, presumably for anyone remotely close to her age. However, when she wasn’t granted so much as glance, Smolder sat back down, a little deflated.

“What are you doing?” Ember felt compelled to ask, out the corner of her mouth. “Some of these boudlerheads are too old for you.”

At that, Smolder stuck out her lip in pout. “Well, how do you do it, getting everyone's attention?”

Ember should have guessed. Of course the real reason Smolder wanted to sit next to her was to grab a piece of the attention.

“It’s not like I want them to,” Ember grumbled. “They’re only interested because I’m the Princess. That title doesn’t even do anything, other than let dragons know who my Dad is! It would be better if they thought I’ll be the next Dragon Lord.”

“But Garble’s gonna be the next Dragon Lord.”

“That’s what everyone thinks!”

Her words must have come out wrong, because Smolder looked at her as if she’d been slapped, which made Ember tense up. Meanwhile, a hard knocking sound echoed from the contestant ring.

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing,” Smolder said with a gasp. “No drake’s better than Garble!”

Ember grumbled. “Apparently not! He takes over my fights twice, and everyone thinks he’s the greatest thing since lava baths!”

“He did what?”

Immediately, Ember realized she’d said too much. Again. “You didn’t hear about that?” she asked, trying to hide her nervousness.

“No!” Smolder said, her tail starting to wag. “Spike told me about Garble’s fight, but he did that for you?”

“It wasn’t for me.” Ember sighed. Might as well come out with it. “I challenged a buncha drakes to a fight over a gem I found and-and I might have been in over my head. Then Garble came along and made fun of them for it, then he challenged Arrow and won! Next thing you know, they leave me alone and I’m left embarrassed.”

“Oh,” said Smolder, sounding strange. “So that was the first time, right? What about the second time?”

“Heh. That time, I got to fight that moron,” Ember said, pointing at Arrow. “I was winning at the start, but then I tripped and sprained my ankle. I didn’t give up, so Arrow kept attacking me. Garble got between us and put a stop to it.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Smolder was physically vibrating. “How did he stop it?” she asked, leaning in closer.

Ember fumed, her eyes narrowing. “He punched him and that was it.”

To her frustration, Smolder started making excited noises.

“Fine, okay, he’s strong! But you gotta admit, your brother is still a moron.”

Coughing, Smolder calmed down. “Sometimes, yeah,” she said with a shrug. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t the coolest.”

“Uh-huh,” Ember muttered, not looking at her. “Anyway. Why are you so interested in getting everyone’s attention?”

“Isn’t that the point of a gathering?” Smolder asked. “Getting compliments and wearing nice presents? Who wouldn’t want to do that!”

Smolder didn’t get an immediate answer. Having turned her gaze away, Ember was looking back towards the contestant ring. Unsurprisingly, with her signature three-spiked tail as a lethal weapon, Ballista had lasted longer than most against Arrow, yet the outcome remained the same. Although his scales sported bruises from taking a couple of hits, Arrow had just finished dodging Ballista’s tail and grabbed her horns, pinning her to the ground.

Grinning unpleasantly, Arrow brought his foot down hard, to stomp the curve of Ballista’s namesake, beak-like snout. A popular finishing move in a dragon fight. While there were more ways than one, nothing asserted dominance like grinding a vanquished opponent’s snout into the dust.

“What about fighting?” Ember said, staring wistfully. “It’s more fun than this.”

“I do that with my brothers all the time!” Smolder bemoaned, springing up. “When we do anything else, they never wanna play any of my games.” She crossed her arms and looked sulky. “The most I get nowadays is an afternoon for reading, but they never want to read my books anymore! It’s, it’s always those stupid action ones Spike likes, or poetry, or adventures. You know what else? Sometimes, they just want to play with each other. When I try to join, they say it’s a boys-only game, and I can’t join because I’m a girl. It’s unfair!”

Listening to Smolder list off her complaints, it was the last one which made Ember feel a twinge of pity for the little dragon, and growing rage towards her brothers. She knew boys were stupid, and somewhat inconsiderate. But Smolder wasn’t some random dragon they bumped into, she was their sister! Where was the give-and-take here? Well, she’d sure have to give Garble a good punch for this.

Feeling a gap in the pit of her stomach, Ember realized that perhaps she was too kind for her own good. Which was why the next thing said was meant to help Smolder feel better about herself.

“Your jewelry doesn’t work.”

Smolder was taken aback. As her lip began to quiver, she dropped down on her patch of rock and hugged her legs close to her chest.

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! It’s fine, but it could be better,” Ember clarified. “It’s your color. Your scales don’t work that well with gold.” Ember took some of her trinkets, and held them out to the little dragon. “Here, I’ll trade you my circlet and necklace for your anklet and bracer.”

Initially surprised and hesitant, Smolder was quick to accept, and quicker to put on her new jewelry. “Do I look good now?”

“Yeah.”

And it was true. Smolder certainly looked better. Ember’s silver was more noticeable compared to gold, but the gemstones embedded in the trinkets could be changed. Sapphires or opals would bring out her blue eyes better than rubies would. Smolder’s mood seemed to have brightened as well. However, Ember could sense that she was expecting further compliment.

“You look nice, but you need to stop doing that.”

Smolder twinged, but soon registered the compliment, a beaming smile forming on her face. Yet when Smolder was about to return to her usual show-boating, Ember held out her hand and shook her head.

“Hold on. Do nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Smolder said, cocking her head to the side.

“Just sit there. Don’t try to get their attention. Don’t even give them a glance.”

“Um, why?”

“Because they won’t be able to leave you alone!” Ember said, speaking from weary experience.

“How does that work?” asked Smolder, who was doing nothing to sit still.

“I don’t know!” Ember admitted. “Boys are dumb! When you try to get their attention, they ignore you, but if you ignore them, then they won’t leave you alone. It’s annoying, but that’s just how it works.” As it happened, Ember knew the perfect example to showcase the effect. “Look at her!”

As she said these words, she pointed to Scales.

Sure enough, Scales’ complete and utter disregard for every drake present, as well as everyone else, had earned her a small following, second only to Ember’s. A few boys fought close to her pile of treasure, many of them contestants who’d been left disappointed by Ember, hoping that their displays of strength would at least earn them that much-yearned-for glance.

“I guess,” said Smolder, still failing to follow Ember’s advice about not moving. “but you constantly try to get Garble’s attention, and he never ignores you.”

“That’s different. I’m not trying to make him like me, I’m trying to teach him his place!”

Instantly, Smolder’s mind wandered to her fairytales and other books, and her eyes went wide. There was just a twinge of familiarity to this, one that she couldn’t ignore.

“You mean at your side?” she said, eyes wide in wonder.

“Exactly! Someone gets it. Paladins need to be at their Lord’s side, that’s like the rule!” Ember said, wearing a faint smile.

Images of Ember in a princess’s dress, sitting on a throne with her brother clad in armor next to her, flashed before Smolder’s eyes. And for different reasons than Ember, Smolder whole-heartedly agreed. Her tail began to wag again. “It’s just like in the princess books,” she said in a whisper.

“Those are just stupid stories,” said the princess. “They don’t really have anything to teach you.”

“You liked those books when you stayed at our cave.”

Since they both knew it was true, Ember didn’t bother trying to deny it. All she did was not admit how much she’d liked having someone to read for her. They’d poured a lot of time over books together, in that week. While Spike and Garble did read their books to her, Spike did it purely to establish a form of dominance, while Garble, well, he probably did it because she was the Princess, same as everyone else.

“Yeah, those ‘stupid’ action books your brother reads,” Ember reminded her. “You know I don’t do any pony princess-y stuff, like picking flowers, singing, exchanging necklaces or whatever else they do.”

Without saying a word, Smolder stroked the trinkets Ember had given her. She also recalled that near the end of the book, Princess Spark was attending the Knight Classes, meaning learning how to fight.

“Are you sure?” she said slyly. “I mean, you are a princess…”

Ember could have felt irritated, yet she smirked instead. “That means I know about being a princess, and other things. You don’t.” She waved her hand airily. “Now stay quiet, watch and learn. See how predictable these guys are.”

“Are you sure it’ll work?” Smolder inquired, as her fantasy about Ember and Garble began to recede into the recesses of her mind.

“Just sit there. I’ll give you a garnet if I’m wrong.”

And so, at last, Smolder obeyed. She acted just as disinterested in any of the passing drakes.

Slowly but surely, there came to be several repeat passersby. And after a short while, two drakes who had been trying to catch Smolder’s eye slightly bumped into each other, by accident, presumably. Regardless, this quickly devolved into shouting, then shoving, before a small fight just so happened to break out.

It was as fierce a fight as any fight involving two seven-year-old drakes could be. Smolder’s smile couldn’t be brighter and Ember could barely hold back the same.

“See?” Ember said. She beamed with pride, having been proven right. Smolder let out an excited giggle.

Yet some of the glow inside Ember soon receded. Here they were, two girls, and the first thing they’d really talked about was boys. Which was the kind of talk Ember usually found so annoying in other girls. It had felt good helping Smolder, yes, but if boys were all she thought about, Ember didn’t think she’d want her around for long.

“So, you’re brothers never play your games,” Ember quickly said, eager for a change of subject. “What- what kind of games do you never get to play?”

She really was too kind for her own good, remembering Smolder’s complaints about her brothers.

“I want to have a tea party!” Smolder chirped without hesitation. Ember gave her a confused look. “It's where you and your friends sit around eating small snacks and having tea, and talking, and wearing pretty dresses! We don’t have dresses, but we can wear what we have now.”

That sounded incredibly boring, and only slightly less awful than the usual gathering. Her every instinct wanted to say no. And yet, with how excited Smolder looked, Ember supposed she could make a small sacrifice. After all, if Smolder was forced to put up with boulder heads like Heathspike and Garble, Smolder deserved someone to play with.

It could actually work out in her favor. When he saw how kind she was to his sister, Garble may finally realize who was more fit to be Dragon Lord.

“Fine.” It was a touch stiff, yet Ember had agreed. She paused, thinking. “And could you bring that book we were reading when I stayed with you? I wanna know what happens next.”

Smolder nodded. “Ooh, you know what, I could teach you to read if you want.”

For the first time in her life, Ember practically squealed with joy.

Scales heard Ember’s cut-off squeal and wondered what had happened to cause her treasure-pile neighbor to act so uncharacteristically joyous.

Her heart nearly seized when she saw what was happening. Smolder had her arms wrapped around Ember’s neck, thanking her profusely. Very clever of the Princess. She’d assumed that Ember was just trying to eat up Garble’s attention, but here she was, getting along with his sister. Very clever indeed. With Smolder in Ember’s corner, it was more likely that when it came down to finding a girl, Smolder would nudge her brother in a particular direction.

Huffing, Scales decided to get up so she could clear her head, leaving her pile of treasure unguarded, a move which drew a lot of surprised glances to which she paid no attention. No whelp would dare ‘borrow’ from her pile. Children’s fights were one thing. There were far more serious consequences for felony in the Dragonlands. Maybe on a walk, she could think of something.

As she wandered towards one of the emptiest, most secluded areas of the quarry, deep in thought, Scales tried to conjure a way to counter this move, but came up empty. Perhaps she could do the same? She knew Garble also had a kid brother, but from what she’d heard, his opinion was that the only girl Garble should get involved with was no girl at all.

When she looked back on this moment in future, Scales would ask herself if fate had played a hand, for her trail of thought was interrupted by a whimpering.

Scales’ ears perked up and she explored, following the sound, until finally she came across a gray dragon, with fur growing from his collar around his neck. He had sharp claws and spines, and at the end of his tail protruded a sickle. Scales recognized him as one of the boys who’d normally stomp around a quarry. Slicer Steelspine. He could make large gashes in stone with his claws and tail, and win slashing competitions with ease. The only material he couldn’t scratch was Platinum. ‘You’re vying for second place’, was his favorite saying to challengers. Or it used to be. Slicer had grown reserved and reclusive in the past few days.

Even his sister, Gemstone, had changed ever since those slayers had destroyed their family’s egg. Scales had spotted her glaring at the Ironscales several times, be they adults or children. Especially if they were children. Scales had heard rumors that the change happened a week ago, after she had left her apprenticeship under Topaz Goldwing.

Scales recalled the long talk her parents had subjected her to regarding that day, covering the ponies to the Steelspines. Her parents’ one edict had been that if she ever encountered a Steelspine, she was to treat them with the utmost respect and kindness. Well, if Slicer was feeling sad, perhaps someone should try and brighten his mood. Why not her? Anyone would be happy for someone as delicate and adorable as her to notice them. Word of her kindness would spread, and Garble may realize what a catch she was.

She bit her lower lip and slowly approached. “Are you okay?”

Slicer could have leapt out of his scales the moment he heard her. He looked at her for a moment, before turning and curling into a ball, facing a rock wall.

This was not the exact reaction she was hoping for. “Uh, do you want to play a game? You have sharp claws, right? We could have a contest.”

He mumbled something inaudible.

Scales started to grow annoyed. Did he not know who she was? She was Scales Sunwing! She was the closest thing the Dragonlands had to nobility! The only other dragons that came close were the Ironscales, and that was just because they had armor for skin!

So, she tried again. “Maybe a race? There’s a lot of drakes, you could try playing with them. Of course a lot of them want my attention.”

Another inaudible mumble.

“Come on, you can’t just sit in a corner all day!” Scales said, growing angry with the whelp.

“I just want to be left alone,” he managed to say softly.

Scales fumed at his utter disregard for her tender loving care. She was going to be nice to him whether he wanted her to or not. Roughly, Scales grabbed a startled Slicer by his arm and dragged him all the way back to her pile of treasure. He protested as much as he could, but she didn’t relent, and he was in no fit state to properly tussle her.

Observing from the lip of the crater, Scales’ mother was mortified. Scales paid her no heed.

“Scram!” Scales ordered all the drakes that were near, baring her teeth. They did so without hesitation. She sat him down on the floor, dug through the treasures, and pulled out two gems. “Here,” she said, forcing on both a smile and sweet sounding voice, holding out the bigger gem towards Slicer. “I think you might like this one.”

“I-I’m not hungry,” he murmured.

Scales rolled her eyes and grabbed his cheeks, opening his mouth before shoving the gem into his maw.

“Why are making this so hard? I’m being nice to you. You should realize when someone is trying to be nice to you. And stop doing that!”

“Dmffing whaft?” Slicer asked, his mouth full of sapphire.

“Being alone and looking sad! It’s making me feel bad. You really need to start talking to dragons more.” Scales said, haughtily. She squinted her eyes and inched her face closer to his. Suddenly, she smiled. “Alright, I decided I’m going to make sure you’re not sulking all the time. You can thank me later.”

She patted his cheek in a uniquely condescending manner. Which was only proper, as she’d been taught that ‘condescension’ was a gracious display from high-ranking people towards those of lower status. Thereupon she turned to go ask her parents if they could go home, leaving Slicer behind, confused and most distraught.

Her mother did not stop yelling at her that night. For her display, Scales was banned from attending the next gathering, and forbidden from leaving the cave for the next week. But Scales Sunwing did not care. While her parents may not see it now, she had taken the first step on her path to helping Slicer see reason, painting herself as a kind and benevolent figure.

As for Slicer Steelspine, while he hoped this would be the last time he ever encountered the girl, it was merely the start of a very odd relationship.

Meanwhile, after having a laugh with Blaze at the expense of the Sunwings, Amber felt a sudden pull on her tail. Turning, she found her daughter wearing not gold trinkets, but rather silver ones with rubies. Before Amber could ask Smolder what had happened to her jewelry, she also saw Ember standing right next to her daughter, wearing Smolder’s gold trinkets.

“Goodness, Smolder,” said Amber. “Why are you wearing those?”

“I traded with Ember! She says that it’s better for me to wear these. Oh, she also says that we can play tomorrow. Can I play with her, mama, can I?”

Amber watched as her daughter bounced excitedly in place. Never before had she seen her so excited. She did look cuter in silver, Amber had to admit it.

“Ember did that? Said that?” Blaze asked, looking at her own daughter, who looked down at the ground, flushing red from embarrassment.

Something was wrong. Ember would never do something like that, not unless she had a scheme, or something upset her so much that she had to get back at someone and this was somehow that. Blaze wondered if Ember was taking advantage of Smolder’s innocence, trading silver for gold of all things.

“Her brothers are jerks and they never want to play with her,” Ember was heard to mumble. “So I’m going to and then they’ll see how stupid they are for ignoring her.”

Blaze could at least sigh in relief that her daughter hadn’t been replaced by a changeling. As far as spiteful revenge ploys went, this was one of the better ones. And if pressed, she could admit that Smolder looked better in silver. Perhaps this was just youthful ignorance.

Amber had her own reasoning for the imbalanced trade. They were little girls and didn’t understand the value of their trinkets. This was nothing more than young dragons trading without understanding what trading was. Ember’s behavior likely stemmed from having some of Blaze in her. Her mother was more typically feminine than the average dragoness. Even if Ember tried hard to pretend otherwise, it stood to reason that she’d pick up a few tricks.

“You may play with her tomorrow,” said Amber, “but Smolderessence, don’t trade jewelry again without asking me first. Understood?”

Smolder nodded, grabbed Ember’s wrist and together they dashed off back to their hoards.

“I’m so sorry, Amber,” said Blaze, putting her claws to her eyes. “So sorry about that.”

“For what?” Amber asked, confused.

“Ember,” Blaze said. “I don’t know why she thought a trade was okay, but I can get it back to you–”

Amber waved her off. “No worries about that. We would have done something similar if we were them.” She chuckled. “Now they know not to do this unless we give them permission. If you really want to make sure, we’ll keep a close eye on them, but I doubt your daughter suggested it out of malice.”

“I know,” Blaze sighed. “I just need to be sure.”

“Besides,” Amber mused, “this could be very good for both of them. Ember makes a friend, and Smolder finds someone new to look up to.” Noticing the queer look she got from her friend, Amber elaborated. “Blaze, you would not believe what it’s like, being outnumbered by boys. I see this as a chance for her to have a sister. I can hardly imagine your daughter wouldn’t have anything of value to teach mine. And, I think we know how much Ember will enjoy having a little protegée.”

Blaze too chuckled at the mental image. Not only that, but she could picture the two of them scheming to defeat Garble.

‘What a dastardly duo!’ she thought to herself. Amber was right, this was a good thing.

After all, Ember had always wanted a sister.

Chapter 24: Vengeance Is Mine

Lord Torch pondered what he’d done to make Tiamat curse the end of his reign with nigh-endless worries and tragedies. First, dragon slayers had invaded his territory and shattered an egg. Now, the oldest shaman in the land had revealed that not only had she consorted with ponies for centuries, but that someone, likely Gemstone Steelspine herself, had borne witness to the act.

Topaz Goldwing currently stood before him in his cave, an unannounced petitioner, while Torch sat on his hoard. It was much like that fateful audience with Amber Ironscale years ago, when she had presented him the foundling Heathspike. Only at the time, he remembered, he’d been lounging lazily upon his bed of precious stones, treating the matter as just an inconvenience. Now Torch was sharply upright, his posture indicative of how deeply the news had cut into his system. It merely added to his chagrin that on this occasion, his petitioner should be one of those few dragons whose stature matched his own and upon whom the Dragon Lord’s voice held no magical sway.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” growled Torch, drawing himself up to his fullest height, “the fact you and your apprentices have been going behind the back of every Dragon Lord for the past millennium, and going into Equestria, or that you were followed. Celestia will not take it lying down.”

“She assures me she won’t,” Topaz said dryly, recalling the princess’s promise to defend the town.

If there was a bright side to everything, it was that Squires Gate had been evacuated, save for a small handful of stubborn citizens, and countless guards both from the town and the barracks of Canterlot had taken position to keep watch for any interlopers who might threaten the community, especially rampaging dragons from across the sea.

“You spoke with Celestia?” Torch said, glaring at her.

“I did,” Topaz replied, unintimidated by the huge dragon’s piercing glare. “And that’s of little consequence to our current predicament. No matter who followed me, a dragon found out about my trips when they shouldn’t have.”

“Are you sure it was Gemstone?”

“No. Which is why I ask that you summon her,” Topaz explained. “She was temperamental the other day, in desperate search of something to do. I wouldn’t put it past her to follow me, if it gave her something to take her mind off–” Topaz paused to think of the right word. “Her loss. The way I see it, either I reveal the town’s existence to her, and I explain why this is a beneficial relationship– or I find out she followed me, and we proceed from there.”

It was sound reasoning. If Gemstone wasn’t their mystery dragon, Torch could just order every dragon in the land to stay away from Equestria.

He focused his thoughts, and before long, a glowing Gemstone Steelspine entered the cave. The beat of her wings was feeble and drooping, her demeanor hunched. She did not look at either elder dragon as her scales dimmed.

She wore no jewelry. From this, Torch surmised she had not attended today’s gathering. He silently wished Blaze were here right now, listening from the shadows. Her advice on how to deal with a soul in mourning would have been welcome.

“Gemstone,” Topaz greeted, with false cheer. “How good to see you,”

“Topaz.” Now Gemstone looked at them, her voice dripping with venom. “Torch.”

“You watch your tone,” Torch ordered. She could have fit in the palm of his hand. Crushing her would have been no trouble for him, were he so inclined. Yet the last thing he needed was to give Clan Steelspine an excuse for a blood feud, particularly with the end of his rule soon to come. “I am still Dragon Lord, and you will address me as such.”

Gemstone merely shot the Dragon Lord a dirty look. “I do apologize, Lord Torch,” she said mockingly, bowing to him in an exaggerated manner.

“You called me Topaz,” Topaz noted, taking a deep breath. “Not Master. So, you did follow me.”

“I did a lot yesterday.”

That sounded vague, and Torch despised vagueness. “Gemstone Steelspine,” he intoned, “I order you to tell us in clear terms if you followed Topaz Goldwing to a pony village.”

Gemstone did not wait for her scales to glow again.

“I did. I’m glad I did. If I’d known what being a healer meant that we’d need to consort with those things, I would have never become her student.”

“You don’t mean that,” gasped Topaz.

“Believe what you like. Did you ever tell that town about me?”

“I did,” Topaz said, still recovering from the bluntness of her student’s answers. “I’ve told them about all my apprentices. In every generation, a new dragon healer has formed bonds with the citizens of Squires Gate, under my watch. Many ponies were looking forward to meeting you next.”

“I just wanted to know,” Gemstone said softly. “I hereby resign from the position of your apprentice. Topaz, may you burn with Tiamat.”

Her face betrayed no sign of emotion. With her piece said, Gemstone turned around.

But Topaz could not let it go like this. “Gemstone!” she called after the retreating dragon. “Listen to me. Celestia’s stationing guards all around the town. Whatever you think you’ll accomplish, it won’t go the way you think it will.”

Gemstone kept her eyes looking forward, her expression flat. She didn’t care how many there would be. All that mattered were the criminals, Air Break and Short Fuse. The rest could burn with them.

“Very interesting.”

Seeing a master lose control of her student, Torch chose to intercede. “One last thing before you go, Gemstone Steelspine,” the Dragon Lord spoke, in an unusually low voice. “You are not to set foot in that pony village. If you disobey me, I shall banish you from these lands, and let Celestia decide your fate. I hope she shows you the mercy she’s famous for.”

Gemstone glanced back. “You’re that convinced I’ll attack that little town?”

“I do not know,” Torch admitted. “But, I have been wrong before. As my mate likes to say, prudence is the mother of virtue.”

Gemstone let out a combination of a scoff and a giggle. “As if I’d be dumb enough to go there alone! Your little village is fine, Topaz, you have nothing to worry about. Now, if I’m no longer needed, I will bid you both adieu.”

She gave a low bow, not in the direction of her elders, but with her silhouetted in profile against the cave’s mouth, before she truly made her exit.

“I’ll be keeping tabs on that one,” Torch snarled. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Topaz, but please, next time you need supplies, send someone that isn’t in charge of an apprentice.”

He had felt the silent wrath emanating from the young dragon. He had no clue what she was planning, but time was on her side. So long as a drake did not succumb to the headstrong impulse, so common to their kind and their most common cause of natural death, they had the benefit of long life. Be it a month, be it a year, a decade or a century, Gemstone could enact her vengeance.

Torch shuddered at the thought of what that would bring to his lands and to Equestria.

Dragon Lords would routinely leave behind instructions for their successors. Illiterate as even the wielders of dragonkind’s greatest title often were, the missives were seldom recorded on paper or parchment – neither of which were likely to remain intact for long in the volcanic Dragonlands, anyway – but engraved in simple imagery upon a secluded cave wall, preserved by the priests and scribes of Bahamut, to whom a translation of their meaning was also entrusted. The most frightening of these missives had been left by Dragon Lord Meliek and his successor, Dragon Lord Erupt. Both had told of a time of war, yes, but also a time where dragons, broken and maddened, took out their rage upon Equestrian villages. Such fallout had very nearly brought about greater conflict. Fortunately, Bahamut’s Paladins had taken care of those rogue dragons.

Yet Equestria never truly forgot their crimes. The tales had survived in legends, so he’d heard, and in a land where the written word grew commonplace, storybooks as well. Tales of savage beasts looking for treasure to steal, kingdoms to burn, and princesses to take as unwilling mates. It was to be expected from those who fell for Tiamat's whispers.

Standing beside the present Dragon Lord, Topaz Goldwing didn’t know what else she herself could do at this point. With Princess Celestia defending the town, and Gemstone kept under discreet surveillance, all that was left to do was to wait and see. To bide one’s time.

For Gemstone, that was the only course of action as well. The young dragon had foreseen that the elders’ worry would drive them to spy on her, day and night. She would be patient. As she had told Torch, she wasn’t fool enough to assault a village alone.

Arriving at the cave of Clan Steelspine, Gemstone entered and sat before her mother, letting out a sigh.

“What did he want of you?” Pala Steelspine asked her daughter.

“I was caught following Topaz,” answered Gemstone. “She let Torch know about the village, and she warned the pony princess.”

“Wretched traitor,” Pala sneered. She began to raise from her spot, growling low. “I say we go now and raze that speck off the face of the map. Then we see how Topaz fares if one of her precious whelps is skewered.”

“Mother, let’s not act hastily,” Gemstone urged. “Lord Torch and Topaz will be breathing down my neck for the time being. Let us wait. We’re dragons, after all. Time is on our side.”

The Steelspines waited an agonizingly long while. Two months slowly crept by in the Dragonlands.

Torch was no slouch during this time. Since his numerous responsibilities kept him from observing Gemstone himself, he had coerced Braft, a younger member of Clan Shadowhide, to stake out and tail the troublesome Steelspine every day. In exchange, Braft was given gems, and his immediate family were exempt from paying Topaz for her services until the Embertide passed. From the teenager, Torch received several detailed reports about what Gemstone did. Nothing too unusual for a dragon of her age. Gemstone still foraged for gems, played with and fed her brother, and would help her mother crawl out of the cave every so often. Clan Steelspine appeared to have welcomed a new, honorary member with little Scales Sunwing, whom Gemstone showed little visible animosity towards. A bit pushy, but the family hadn’t been disrupted any further by Scales’ presence.

The Dragon Lord simply filed away that piece of information and felt glad Ember didn’t go chasing boys. He’d learned from Blaze about their daughter’s new acquaintance. While it made him feel uneasy after how he’d told off young Garbuncle, he couldn’t deny the value of maintaining bonds of alliance between Clan Brightcrest and Clan Ironscale.

Meanwhile, Gemstone went about her days, doing what she could. Foraging, providing her aid to injured whelps, getting back to mingling with other girls and attending gatherings. It was all to make it seem like everything was normal. She still allowed herself bouts of anger, as any dragon would, especially against those that deserved it. When she and Smolder crossed paths, her demeanor was colder towards the younger girl, and any interactions came with a noticeable bite – not literally, yet still, a snap of the teeth.

The sight of Smolder nowadays made Gemstone’s blood boil. All that prattling about books and how great the princess was, it irked her more than she could describe. But Smolder was out-of-bounds, as she could retreat to Garble’s side when possible. Or Ember’s, what with the two having grown a lot closer over the past month.

Conversely, Gemstone needed to mind her own brother more, now his little ‘friend’ Scales had forced her way into his life. Scales was demanding, to say the least, and relentless in her pursuit to push Slicer out of his comfort zone. Every day she forced him not just to play with other boys his age, but to win.

Today was no different.

It was an easygoing afternoon, a day to while away under a soothing red sky, and Gemstone had hoped she could bring Slicer outside without unwanted interference. She took him to a quiet corner, not far removed from the nesting grounds, where most dragons would not be present at this time of year. But Scales possessed an uncanny ability to track her prey. No sooner than Gemstone had landed, carrying her brother on her back, did Scales spring up like a bat out of Tartarus. Apparently, the girl had been lounging behind a rock when they arrived. It was too convenient to be coincidence, yet Gemstone had not seen Scales tracking them, either by air or by land.

Had it been Scales who’d followed after Topaz, the older dragon would never have known. It made Gemstone shudder to imagine what a hunter she’d make one day.

“You’re here!” Scales said happily, grabbing Slicer’s spare hand. “Thanks for bringing him!”

Gemstone sighed, reluctant to let go of Slicer. She had tried employing subtlety with Scales, telling her as kindly as she could to stay far away from her brother. After which she had tried to be direct and forceful. She was the larger dragon, and had the advantage in a contest of physical intimidation. But Scales was too stubborn to take the hint.

“Scales,” Gemstone growled. “Now’s really not the time. What were you doing here anyway?”

To Gemstone’s disgust, Scales did that thing where a female pressed her cheeks together and cooed. She had seen Smolder do it once or twice, seen Amber Ironscale do it, even a few girls like Ballista Axebeak. It was one of those things she found too sickly-sweetly “girly” for a dragon, almost like something a pony would do. She only found it to be a marvel that Lord Consort Blaze, with her perfume bottles and painted eyelashes, never partook in the action.

But apparently, not all dragons thought it crossed the line. And Scales was the worst of the lot.

“Can’t a girl dream?” Scales sighed blissfully. “Sometimes I like to come here alone, you know, and imagine what beautiful eggs we’ll have, my future mate and I.”

By Bahamut, the girl was no older than Slicer. She shouldn’t be thinking about laying eggs. At least Gemstone felt slightly relieved to know that, whatever Scales was trying to pull with her brother, he couldn’t be the “future mate” she kept waxing poetic about. All the girls knew Scales had eyes only for Garble Ironscale.

What irritated Gemstone was that Scales had crafted a plausible lie on the spot.

“Can’t you give us time to ourselves, my brother and I? You keep doing this, pushing Slicer around. He really doesn’t need you.”

“Nonsense!” Scales chirped, pulling Slicer harder. “Being alone is the one thing he doesn’t need. Least of all with his family, feeling sad and all. I’m making sure he won’t mope all day. You should be thanking me.”

“B-but I really don’t want to do much today,” Slicer mumbled as Scales dragged him from his sister.

“You never want to do anything any day!” Scales cried. “And then you start playing with the boys, and you get better for a bit! Where’s your bounce, Slicer? You gotta get your bounce back!” She pointed towards a crater, off in the distance. “Garble and the lads just found a bunch of gems. They’re fighting over who gets the biggest pile.”

Gemstone felt helpless as she saw a dim spark in Slicer’s eyes. Scales couldn’t make him do anything that he didn’t want to do, but the girl had it sussed that deep down, he really did still enjoy getting into a proper fight with his friends over loot.

“Slicer,” she asked, resigned. “What do you wanna do?”

With his hands held between his sister and new friend, Slicer’s head darted back-and-forth, until he finally turned to stare pitifully at Gemstone.

“I-” Slicer said, looking strangely small. “I think I wanna go fight, Gemstone.”

Sighing, Gemstone released his hand. “Alright.” She glared at Scales. “But I’m coming along. You let that girl spend too much time with you, all to herself.”

Scales squealed delightedly, a noise which pierced Gemstone’s eardrums. Still, there was nothing for it but to allow Scales to take the lead on foot, pulling Slicer over to the disputed crater. Gemstone trailed behind them in the air, her wings beating listlessly.

A familiar blur of ruby-red and earth-brown caught her eye as she glided past the crest. Like Scales said, the fight was well underway, both Garble and Arrow making short work of their respective contestants, moving towards that climax where they’d face each other.

“You’re winning third place,” Scales declared loudly, “so we can have a snack.”

Slicer’s mood quickly shifted from apathy to indignation. “Third place?” he exclaimed. “Hey, why am I settling for third place? You should want me to get first.”

There was nothing a dragon hated more than being told they couldn’t do something. Staring at the two, Gemstone began to wonder. Was Scales manipulating her brother? Was she even smart enough to? But what would Scales want to manipulate Slicer for?

“Because Arrow’s fighting and he’s taking second,” Scales explained, tugging Slicer harder, “and if you managed to beat him, there’d still be Garble to think about!” She paused to think. “Garble’s a bit less obsessed with winning, though. If he quits, you could get second place.” She shrugged her shoulders. “My daddy says he never leaves anything to luck. Let’s go in assuming you’ll get third.”

“I could take on Garble and get first!”

“No!” Scales snapped. “Do not even think about hurting him! I forbid it!”

“Why?”

Gazing from atop the crest, Gemstone wondered the same thing. Slicer was usually told to win when Scales told him to fight. Being forbidden from fighting someone wasn’t going to sit well with him.

“Because he’s my future mate, silly,” Scales confided in a sing-song voice. Weirdly, she seemed to think this was the appropriate moment to boop Slicer on the snout. From the dreamy look in her eyes, it was painfully clear she was picturing her future with Garble. “Someone as amazing as me deserves the toughest drake there is, after all. So, I need to make sure nothing happens to him!”

To everyone’s surprise, Slicer wrenched his hand away from hers, fists clenching as he huffed.

“He’s not that great. All he has is tough scales. I–in fact, my dad tells me that I can cut through his scales, no problem! Plus, I have a merged ability! Does anyone know how rare this is?”

Slicer pointed to the sickle-like blade on the end of his tail to emphasize his point, but Scales didn’t seem to understand. Grunting, he moved away from her and approached a nearby boulder. One quick slash of his claws left a clean cut in the rock. His next swipe did the same. To round off the trifecta, he twirled and used the blade on his tail to tear a long, straight gash through the whole rock, breaking it apart.

“See?” Slicer panted, wiping his brow. “H-he’s not even that good-looking. I have him beat there too!”

“I can admit when you’re right,” Scales nodded, causing Slicer’s cheeks to turn a slight shade of red. “But he beat Arrow! No-one else has done that.”

Slicer shot Garble and Arrow a dirty look. “I’m getting first!” he snarled, as he dashed towards the group.

Scales’ eyes went wide in horror. “Slicer, no, you’re getting third! I told you to get third! Slicer!” she yelled, chasing after him.

But Slicer ignored her, joining a group that had only just noticed him. While the boys were still surprised to see him, he’d been fighting again long enough for them to accept him wordlessly.

He fought quite well. Gemstone herself was on edge, since this was her brother fighting, yet she could contain her worry. Scales, however, twitched and gasped any time he was hit, cheered when he won, and would scream unsolicited advice.

Soon, many of the drakes gave up. Which left Garble and Arrow, and Slicer, and Spear. How Spear could fight with that unruly mop covering his eyes, was one of the great mysteries of the Dragonlands. He often made the top five.

Lots were drawn. To Scales’ relief as well as Gemstone’s, Slicer had to fight Spear, leaving Arrow to Garble. Meaning that Slicer was sure to earn a nice snack, when he came in second. Of course, this would require honorably forfeiting the final round.

“Beat him up, Slicer!” cried Scales.

However, Slicer glared at the drawn lot in his hand, then at Spear, and then towards Garble and Arrow.

“Wait,” Slicer said, walking up to Arrow. “I want to fight you.”

“What!”

There came a string of reprimands and insults thrown at him, but Slicer utterly disregarded Scales.

Although Arrow and Garble each stared at him with a raised eyebrow, neither of them objected. Garble went off to limber up, while Arrow cracked his knuckles. It did not matter who Slicer fought. They would end up fighting each other regardless. The one who looked downcast was Spear, his mop of hair seeming to droop more than ever now he was sure to fight Garble next.

When the fight began, Slicer managed to get four hits in. But on his fifth strike, Arrow blocked his attack, knocking Slicer off-balance. From the audience, an audible feminine gasp was heard as a follow-up punch collided with Slicer’s eye, sending him sprawling on the ground. Just as Slicer was about to stand up, Scales ran between him and Arrow.

“That is enough!” Scales yelled at Arrow.

Arrow gazed at her dully. “He’s getting up.”

“And I’m saying he’s done!”

“So what, he needs his girlfriend to tell him what to do?” Arrow gave Scales a soft shove.

From above, Gemstone’s eyes widened at the offense, while Slicer released a fuming growl and Scales gave a shocked and disgusted gasp.

Scales’ face hardened and she marched back up to Arrow. “First off, I am not his girlfriend. I’m spoken for. Right, Garble?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at the red drake, although she didn’t seem to care that Garble turned his back to her, nor did she hear Slicer’s annoyed growl. “Secondly, Slicer has been out of practice for months, because he’s been mourning his little brother! If this were any other time, he would have beaten you easily! He’s out of practice, so there must be some rule that the fight ends a little early. And thirdly–”

She got as close to Arrow as possible and smirked, whispering to the drake.

“Your mom will be mad. I got in trouble just for being nice to him. What’s going to happen to you, since you punched him?”

The warning was enough to cudgel Arrow into a semblance of submission. Normally, he would have done something to Scales, or anyone that sneered at him, but one mention of his mother told Arrow that it was best to let it go, settle for the gems he’d won, and forgo the rematch with Garble until another time.

“I’m pulling out of the fight,” Arrow grumbled, collecting the second-biggest pile of gems.

“You earned every last gem!” Scales called after him cheerfully. She turned and helped Slicer to his feet. His cheek carried a large welt, and his eye was swollen shut. “The things I have to do for you,” she grumbled, letting him lean on her. “It is not the lady that’s supposed to help a drake. And because of you, we’ve now gotta settle for third place. You really should have just fought Spear! Then we would have gotten a bigger haul.”

“Wait, b-but you said– me and him haven’t fought yet–”

Scales pulled him close, glaring at him with the most intense look she could muster, before turning her fiery gaze right onto Spear. Dragon or no, the searing heat in her eyes would have burned right through his shaggy mop. Spear was actually scared to meet her gaze.

“I-I think I hear my mom calling. You win, Slicer,” Spear said, edging away nervously.

So Garble had won the king’s pile once more, but he was frowning. This wasn’t merely the easiest victory he’d ever claimed, it was also the least earned. Rather than gloat, Garble didn’t say a single word as he watched Slicer and Scales collect their gems. He shared a glance with Gemstone when the pair moved off hauling all they could carry between them. It was brief. Gemstone broke the stare, focusing on eavesdropping what Scales and Slicer were up to now.

Having moved far enough from the main group, Scales began to berate him. “What were you thinking? Fighting him was super dumb!”

She was helping him towards his sister, but was going slowly so that she could properly shout at him.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to punch him. Did you really mean it?”

Scales looked at him, confused. “Did I mean what? That what you did was stupid?”

“That I could beat Arrow,” Slicer clarified. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it! I’m only friends with the most exceptional dragons,” Scales said haughtily. She failed to notice the small smile this brought to Slicer’s face. “Once I get you back in fighting shape, you can put that jerk in his place. Did you see how he shoved me? Doesn’t he know who I am? You can’t just shove someone like me! And Garble just stood there! He breaks Arrow’s nose for putting Little Miss Princess in her place, when she literally asked for it, but lets a poor girl like me get shoved because she’s worried about her friend? There’s no justice in this world!”

“I wanted to punch him for that,” Slicer muttered.

“At least someone has a sense of honor,” Scales said with a smile. “You just need to listen to me more.” The pair soon made it to Gemstone, and Scales eloquently surmised the situation. “Slicer was stupid and got beat up. Can you fix him?”

After Gemstone promised to do what she could, she sent Slicer back to the cave ahead of her.

Her brother could wait. His injuries were hardly life-threatening. She needed a word with Arrow’s mother first. Despite her dislike for Scales, the girl was right about one thing. The problem was that in this case, Gemstone did not want her to be. Word of the fight would reach the parents’ ears. So far, the boys had tried to keep it secret that Slicer was back to fighting. However, now that Arrow had openly mocked Slicer after his little friend interfered, someone was sure to spill the beans. She had to step in before this got out of hand.

For better or worse, Gemstone was about to give her blessing to Scales as her brother’s own Paladin.

It took hours to convince Arrow’s mother not to punish her son.

Gemstone saw the burning fury in the huge dragon’s eyes, and felt conflicted. Dragons, deep down, could care for one another. The rare occasion when a dragon chose to pull their punches was what made it stand out all the more. A family that had experienced such a tragedy was to be shown some kindness – but part of Gemstone hated the empathy. The looks of pity. The way the others seemed to tiptoe around her and her family. It made her feel as if they saw them as something else.

“Ma’am,” said Gemstone, “my brother literally asked to fight your son. All his pain is self-inflicted.”

“W-well,” Bow spluttered. “It hardly seems appropriate for him to–”

“My brother isn’t some fragile hatchling, he’s a dragon,” Gemstone said with a growl. “He’s starting to play with other boys again. He’s starting to socialize again, little twits aside. I don’t need you to set an example that they’re to treat him like he’s made of glass.” She took a deep breath and calmed herself, needing to keep up appearances. “If you want to help us move past our tragedy, the least you can do is let my brother be a normal drake. That means taking hard knocks.”

Bow still looked as if she wanted to protest. “And what about the girl? Sunwing?” she said. “He shoved her when she wasn’t in the fight.”

This was when Gemstone knew she stood at a crossroads. What she said next would define everything.

“I’m not going to fight my brother’s battles for him,” Gemstone said at last. “And nor do I particularly care for Sunwing, that’s true. Still.” She took a deep, deep breath, working up the conviction to speak the words. “Perhaps I’ve been too hesitant to encourage Slicer to move on, as well. Too afraid of him getting hurt. The Sunwing girl’s been doing everything to get him out of his funk.”

“She’s the only one who tried standing up for him,” Bow remarked. “I thought you said-”

“I know what I said.” Yet Gemstone didn’t snap. Her words came out softly, in a small sigh. “Slicer doesn’t need someone to coddle him, ma’am. He needs to take his punches. Also, I think now more than ever, he needs someone who’ll be there to pick him up, too. And maybe-maybe that can’t be me.”

This Bow must have understood, for she fell silent. Possibly she felt ashamed of herself. Gemstone could not tell. The situation had been defused, and this was all that mattered to her.

Defused, not only today, yet for all the days to come after. Yes, after.

Back at her family’s cave, Gemstone tended to her brother. If there was one positive to him being hurt, it was that it gave her a chance to put what she’d learnt during her apprenticeship to good use. She lightly cut the spot above her brother's blackened eye, letting the built-up fluid leak out, and giving him back the use of both eyes. A cold, wet cloth was pressed against his remaining bruises.

“Feeling better?” She was happy to receive a nod. “Slicer, you do know you don’t need to let that girl push you around. You know you can say ‘no’ to her, right?”

“I know, I know, sis,” Slicer grumbled, as if this were the hundredth time they’d had this conversation. “I like spending time with her, though.”

“Are you sure?” Gemstone asked gently. “Because she seems to upset you sometimes.”

“Well, I get a little mad when she talks about Garble. Like he’s so great. And she makes my stomach feel weird, like when she grabs my claw. Or– or like today, she was saying that I could beat Arrow, and it felt like there were butterflies in my stomach.”

Gemstone let out a pained groan. “No, Slicer, no. Oh please, no,” was all that she could say as she buried her face in her claws.

Reclined upon his pile, their father simply smiled, and lightly chuckled. “She is a cute girl.”

“Whu-?” Slicer murmured. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’ll know when you’re older.”

Truthfully, neither Kalamet nor Pala minded the girl much. It was something any normal drake would experience. Not tragic, not something that would leave him jumping at shadows, nor something that would make him mourn for months on end. A simple instance of a boy meeting a girl and developing a little crush on her

The Steelspine parents had heard that Scales’ parents weren’t pleased at their daughter’s approach, yet they dismissed it as idle talk. It was true Scales could be bossy and demanding, but she was also nine. Pala knew that once she grew up, she’d likely feel embarrassed by her past actions and would never really be able to live it down, despite it being so small. Then there was what Scales actually was doing. Remove her ego, remove her tactlessness, and what was left was a girl helping Slicer to see the world hadn’t ended, that there was still a life he could live.

While Gemstone felt concern over her brother putting himself on the line, she also felt a bit happier for the first time since the tragedy. Provided Scales didn’t overstep any boundaries, having a friend in his life was just what Slicer needed right now, especially if the young girl got him back into fighting shape. Gemstone was of the opinion that the sooner Slicer honed his fighting skills, the better.

With what was about to happen, he might need them someday.

As evening fell that day, Braft Shadowhide was growing frustrated watching Gemstone Steelspine.

He felt like a creep. Had his daily activity not been Torch’s direct order, he would have gone to see someone about his stalking problem. Secondly, he wished he could just talk to her for a minute. She was an attractive dragon. Many drakes his age often found themselves gawking at her, himself included. Several had already tried, all of them were sent away. Some theorized that she was stuck-up, but most realized that she just wasn’t in the right headspace to court, and needed time to heal. Gatherings were a perfect place to talk with other girls, if not to have an excuse to come outside.

Creepy as it sounded, if he ever did try to court her, he did know a few of her likes and dislikes. Her favorite gems, favorite spots to visit, even her favorite activities. He silently thanked Bahamut that the reason for his stalking was because of Torch’s orders and not because he was a freak. He let out a quiet groan, and turned back towards the spot, and saw that Gemstone was gone.

A hand suddenly wrapped around his snout and a claw was pressed to his neck. He let out a muffled cry of surprise before Gemstone’s voice gently cooed at him to remain calm.

“A young girl might feel threatened when she’s stalked for months by some creep. In a fit of fright, she might attack, maybe even kill her pursuer.”

He warbled in surprise. She had seen him? But he was a Shadowhide, his clan's ability made it almost impossible to see them. “How–”

“I’m not deaf. I’ll admit seeing you is hard, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t hear you.” Gemstone applied pressure against his neck.“Try anything I don’t like, and I slit your throat. You’re going to leave me alone, you understand? If I find you following me again–”

She removed her claw from his neck, and slashed a nearby wall. She made sure that Baft saw the deep, clean gash left. Gemstone threw him to the ground, and silently slipped away. At that moment, Braft realized that any chance he’d had with Gemstone was now reduced to ash. Perhaps it was for the best.

He retreated and returned to Lord Torch.

After Torch had thoroughly chewed out Braft for being made, the drake was dismissed for the day, and told to cease shadowing Gemstone. With him gone, Torch snorted to himself. Perhaps with everything that had happened, having lived through one of the worst tragedies to begall the land in centuries, Gemstone had decided to move on with her life. She had lost a sibling, but still had another who lived. Her parents were alive. She herself still had a life to live. Moving on was the best thing she could do for herself, so why stop her? Why stalk her?

Best to let her be.

Meanwhile, Topaz had begun to wonder if she’d felt frightened for naught.

She had visited the town of Squires Gate only once since her talk with Celestia. A guard on duty had informed her the common folk were evacuated for three whole months, leaving a town empty save for the patrolling guards, of which the local guards were all familiar with her. It wasn’t a state of affairs which could last forever, however. The problem was that the town’s economy had grown to rely on their best-paying customer. Although temporary, the townsfolk’s relocation to other communities put a dent in not only their lives’ routine, but their trade. Herbal plasters and concoctions, burlap figures and custom-made toys, none of these brought in the same without a dragon overpaying for them.

And there was the future to consider. Word would spread that the people of Squires Gate had been forced to leave town for fear of a rampage. Even if that never happened, Equestrians would now be looking at Squires Gate as a town threatened by dragons. How might this affect her future visits?

With these thoughts swirling through her mind, just as they had for two months, Topaz was trying to calm herself before she lay down to sleep that night.

In the dark of her cave, Topaz’s drooping eyes saw all the hypothetical scenarios of what Gemstone might do, if allowed to return to the town, none of which ever ended well for the young dragon. Gemstone could kill perhaps three armored ponies, but prepared and bearing weapons as they were, legions more would descend upon her, and her assault would scarcely last an hour.

The Steelspine girl was too young. She would need to be at least three-hundred years old before she became a sizable threat. And that was long off. Gemstone was no fool, surely she wouldn’t gamble her life on a fool’s errand like this.

‘Like I’d be dumb enough to go there alone.’

Her words echoed as Topaz was on the cusp of falling asleep. What if she wasn’t alone?

Topaz’s eyes snapped open, as it dawned on her what she had overlooked. She was so focused on Gemstone, she’d forgotten about the girl’s family. Including her mother and her father.

Forcing her old body to move, she quickly flew towards Torch’s cave.

It was the middle of the night when Topaz rushed inside, shouting Torch’s name. He was quick to leap in front of Blaze, who curled around Ember, but the Dragon Lord calmed his nerves when he saw Topaz. She was breathing heavily.

“What are you doing, barging into my cave!”

“The Steelspines. Call them now,” Topaz said with a frantic wheeze. The flight had taken much out of her, her old body feeling its age as she pushed herself. “The entire family, call them now!”

“Why? Gemstone hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary.”

“It’s not Gemstone I’m worried about. I’m worried about her parents.”

Not long after Topaz had arrived did Torch quietly explain things to his mate. Fearing that their daughter might see or hear something she wasn’t yet prepared for, Blaze decided it best she spend some the night with the Ironscales, to which Torch reluctantly agreed, and Topaz set off into the dark with Ember. Once Torch was alone with Blaze, he called forth Clan Steelspine and waited.

Kalamet came to the cave, scales aglow from receiving the Call, and voiced his displeasure over being woken up at such a dreadful hour, but was more displeased that his son had been called as well. He wondered loudly what business Torch had with them.

Slicer arrived straight after him. He bore bandages, yet neither Torch nor Blaze batted an eye. No doubt the little drake had gotten into a fight with his peers.

“Where are your mate and daughter?” Torch asked when only the father and son appeared before him.

“That’s none of your concern,” Kalamet said with a sneer.

“I order you to tell me where they are!” Torch bellowed.

At this, Kalamet fell silent. His hide began to glow brighter and itch, but he held fast. The two dragons soon found themselves in the middle of a glaring contest, a contest of wills. Seeing as her mate wasn’t likely to get far with Kalamet, Blaze decided to ask little Slicer.

Blaze got down on her belly so that she was nearly at eye level with the whelp.

“Little one,” she said in a gentle voice, “would you mind telling me where your mother is?”

Slicer was taken aback by the question, only because of how very different it was from the growls exchanged by his father and the Dragon Lord.

“Slicer,” said Kalamet. “Stay quiet.”

“No. I order you to speak,” said Torch.

“Lord Torch! Why are you harassing my son now?”

“Both of you, enough!” Blaze said loudly. “A shaman was your daughter’s teacher, Kalamet, and she’s worried about her. I think she had a nightmare earlier tonight. Silly, I know, but she was kind enough to fix my daughter’s ankle when we needed it. I’m just trying to give her some peace of mind.”

A bold-faced lie, but Blaze considered it to be a necessary evil.

“I shall ask again. Do you know where your daughter is?”

Kalamet stayed silent, but his glare now lacked that same intensity from earlier.

The Lord Consort moved herself between the whelp and the two dragons, keeping Slicer’s focus squarely upon her.

“Just look at me, sweetheart,” Blaze urged the little drake in a soft, soothing voice. “You’re not in trouble. Neither are they, we just want to be able to tell a friend of your sisters that she’s safe. Do you know where your sister is?”

Pala had let father and son know earlier today, after Gemstone had returned with Slicer from the fight, that both females of the family needed to take some time for themselves, time to mourn and to come to terms with what had happened. Kalamet hadn’t argued, but Slicer was very vocal about not wanting either to leave. However, they’d assured him they’d be back before he knew it.

“I dunno, honest,” Slicer finally whispered. “She just said that she was going on a trip with my mom.”

To Torch, it didn’t matter where they actually were. All he needed to know for sure was that they were both unreachable and not in their cave.

“Both of you are dismissed,”

Kalamet was surprised. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Blaze said with a smile. “It’s not ideal, but at least we have something to tell.”

After giving them another jeer, Kalamet took Slicer back to their cave.

Once they were alone, Blaze’s smile faded. “Torch, is it fair to jump to conclusions like this? For all we know, they could have gone someplace calming. Bahamut knows that if anything like this happened to me, I’d need time to process it. I wouldn’t be off attacking a village!”

“Blaze,” Torch said lowly. “If you were in my place, would you take the chance, knowing that there is a town full of guards and soldiers? What can Celestia do if they’re wiped out in a night?”

“I know, but, Torch–” Blaze let out a sigh. It wasn’t often Torch made such a strong point. “You forget, Pala is only a Steelspine by marriage. Her skills lie elsewhere, in ways that trump even her mate’s. Her tail is lethal. Say you go out there and this comes to blows. Are you sure you can remember that?”

Torch saw what she was saying. True, he could easily beat Pala into the ground, but that was only if he treated her like any other dragon. One single oversight, one single lapse in memory and caution, and he would be buried. Torch knew that he would easily forget, as most dragons would. And they were no match for Pala.

Besides, at times like this, the most dangerous option for a Dragon Lord was to leave their lands behind, up for grabs to the least scrupulous. So the question became, how would someone overcome a weapon that most dragons, even he, didn’t even start to consider?

“Which Ironscale is without a mate and children?”

Smog didn’t like being woken up in the middle of the night, especially when he saw Topaz Goldwing and Dragon Lord Torch standing above him.

“Come with us, now!” Torch barked, dragging the dragon out of his cave by his tail.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“Smog,” Topaz said, “you’re going to prevent a war.”

“W-what?”

“Quiet!” Torch snapped at him. “You are to follow Topaz. She will explain everything along the way. Succeed, and you and your clan will be rewarded.”

Smog reluctantly agreed, following Topaz as she took to the skies.

Their flight was long, and silent. Every inquiry that Smog made was met with a sharp ‘We’ll discuss it when we’re closer’ or ‘Not now. Focus on flying.’

Topaz pushed herself to speed through her usual route. Across the seas, headed North-West. She didn’t take time to check anything but her direction and landmarks. Smog followed her without issue, nearly overtaking her at times. When this happened, Topaz would snap at him to stay behind her, lest he get them lost. As time passed her breath grew labored, and she soon found it difficult to breathe. Eventually, they came to the shores of Equestria.

It took only a few moments for her wings to stop flapping. Fatigue had finally taken her and she was forced to glide towards the ground, followed by Smog.

“Damn it,” Topaz said as she collapsed, upon the sand of the shores. “Of all times for me to feel my age, why now?” She tried to stand, but crumpled under her own weight. Smog tried to help her up, yet the elder dragon was quick to shake his claws off her. “What are you doing? Don’t stop for me, keep going!”

“Not until someone tells me what’s going on!” Smog yelled. “I think I deserve to know what I’m supposed to be doing! Torch said you would tell me, so I’m not flying an inch, until I know why I need to be flying into Equestria in the dead of night!”

Silence reigned shortly, broken only by the crash of waves upon the beach.

“Damn you Ironscales, stubborn whelps,” Topaz wheezed. It took her a moment to catch her breath, while she dug her claws into the sand, trying to force herself up. “Smog… You are to remain calm when I tell you this. Know that I have never once scavenged for any of my medical supplies. There is a village, not far from here in Equestria, called Squires Gate. It’s there that I obtain my supplies and the books the children enjoy.”

His eyes became wide upon hearing the confession. “You’ve been consorting with ponies?”

“I have, and I’m not sorry for it,” said Topaz. “Those supplies help us dragons. Remember the wound your brother sustained? You can thank them for me being able to treat him. Unfortunately, Gemstone followed me there one day, two months ago. Now she and her mother are gone. I don’t know if I’m right, but they may be attacking the village even as we speak. If they are, and something in my bones tells me they are, someone has to stop them. I can’t do it, but you? You’re one of the few dragons that’s capable of stopping this with little risk to life and limb.”

Smog was at a loss for words. Anger began to rise, the more he processed her request. Did she not know his clan? Did she not know what it was she was asking him to do?

“You want me to help the ponies, after what they did to that egg and my clan?”

Topaz’s face twisted. “Yes, because no-one in that town did anything to anyone, most of all your clan!” She slammed her claw on the sandy ground. “Not a pony alive had anything to do with the attack on the Steelspines, nor your clan’s slaughter a thousand years ago. Barely any of their kind lived past forty back then! Magnus and his ilk have all been dead for over a millennium. In Equestria, their actions and their names have been lost to time. You’re frightened of phantoms and despise corpses that have long since turned to dust, holding a grudge that is not yours to have! These ponies that are being attacked, they’re innocent. You must help them.”

“Why should I?” Smog demanded. “I am under orders to follow you, and you don’t seem like you’re going anywhere. So what if a town burns? Good riddance!”

“Because if you do nothing,” Topaz warned, “if you let their wrath roll across Equestria, it’ll lead to war. You think the ponies will take this lying down? A single dragon can eradicate whole cities, and that’s just what they both plan to do. What are the ponies to do, but demand blood for blood? There are dragons even stronger than Pala, and with things as they stand, they are just waiting for an excuse to invade Equestria. Ask yourself, what will happen to Heathspike and Garbuncle if you do nothing? How long will it be, before they have to face the next Magnus or Grimhoof and they become the next Coal Ironscale, platinum shield and all?”

Smog scoffed and was about to answer, but he found himself unable to speak.

He had heard stories of Coal Ironscale from Furnace. The drake was said to be the best of a generation, an example that all dragons should strive for, yet he was felled before he turned thirty. His thoughts turned to his happy little nephews, playing in the quarries. Heathspike was only just starting to play with other drakes. Just the other day, he had run into his cave to describe his first little fight, how his friend Jade had hugged him when he won, and how he found a rare emerald not long after. Then there was Garbuncle. Furnace often told Flare how much the lad reminded him of Coal. Strong, proud, eager to prove himself. If war broke out, if it lasted long enough, what would become of them? Was he really going to risk their very lives just to spite some ponies he’d never met?

What about Smolder? Smolder may be safe to some extent, but all it took was one rogue sneaking into a cave and finding a defenseless whelp with her terrified mother and then–

“What if they attack me?”

“Tell them you’re a friend of Topaz Goldwing. The common folk have been evacuated, but the town guards know me well. If you say that you’re with me, they will trust you. Keep flying North-West, and please don’t stop until you reach the town!”

Flying as fast as he could, Smog soon came to the town of Squires Gate.

What greeted him was a town set ablaze, the night sky illuminated with a pale orange hue, accented by a pillar of thick, black smoke billowing into the sky. A roar echoed throughout the valley, and Smog could scarcely make out a familiar dragon, spewing fire in the air as her tail swatted at the defenders. He cursed to himself. Armored pegasi wove through the air, evading her swipes, slashing at her whenever they could. He saw some others in armor carrying their wounded to safety, coughing as they inhaled smoke from the fires. These ones seemed to ignore him, more concerned with saving their comrades than dealing with a second dragon.

Smog stopped near the entrance of the town, when a sickening sight caught his eye. Face down on the ground lay Topaz’s apprentice, several spears embedded into her back. His arms tensed in rage, but then they loosened. Several corpses surrounded her, deep gash wounds strewn about their bodies. In the light of the fire, he could see that Gemstone’s claws were stained red.

Smog wanted to lie to himself and say that Gemstone had been just an innocent girl, that she didn’t deserve this, but what else were the ponies supposed to do? Gemstone had attacked, and they defended themselves. Nothing more, nothing less.

Another roar caught his attention as a pillar of fire was shot into the air.

Now was no time to mourn. He needed to stop Pala before any more damage could be done. As he approached her, Smog could see the pegasi swarming her more clearly. He could tell by their maneuvers, the way they wove in flight across the skies, how they handled their weapons, that these armored creatures were soldiers. He paused for a moment, wondering if he was walking into a death trap, that one of the defenders would see him and attack, skewering him before he could reach Pala. However, when he saw that their weapons lacked the starlight shine of platinum, he wondered what an Ironscale like him had to fear.

If he hurried, if he could restrain Pala, perhaps he could stop this madness before any further tragedy befell the Steelspines. What would happen to Pala then? He didn’t know, nor was it his place to know. Smog took a deep breath and let out a deathly roar, alerting every combatant to his presence. He heard the defenders curse and scream upon seeing him, however, he stunned them as he charged at and tackled Pala. He could hear the ponies’ shouts of fear turn into cries of confusion and relief.

Smog grabbed the dragon’s wrists, only for Pala to quickly kick him off of her once the shock of his attack wore off. When she got back on her feet, she unleashed a ferocious roar of her own directed at him.

“What are you doing?” she snarled.

“Putting an end to this! Have you lost your mind?”

Pala began slashing at him wildly, but Smog was quick to evade when he could, blocking with his arms when needed. Parrying a slash, he saw an opening, and delivered a hit to the side of her face, sending her to the ground. As she picked herself up, he was quick to put his arms under her’s, bringing her into his chest.

“Let go of me!” Pala shrieked, unleashing a torrent of fire into the air. “Wretched traitors, the lot of you! Consorting with these fiends, defending them. You call yourself an Ironscale? This speck of rock deserves to burn! You of all dragons should know that!”

He wasn’t going to engage with her on her terms, there was no use. This was madness, pure and simple.

“This won’t go the way you think it will, Pala,” Smog said, struggling to keep her still. “Do you think it ends here? How many fathers did you kill today? How many sons? How many brothers? Think, how many monsters did you create by killing them?”

Smog snarled as he tried to wrestle Pala to the ground. He suddenly felt something sharp try to pierce his hide where his neck and shoulder met. He peered over and watched as Pala tried in vain to use her sickle tail against him. To an Ironscale like him, however, it was little more than an accessory.

“You’re a Steelspine in name only,” Smog sneered.

He shifted his weight forward and pinned her to the ground. One claw held her down where her skull was attached to her neck, another held an arm behind her back. Her tail flailed, her wings flapped, feeding the surrounding fires, but any time he was hit or made uncomfortable, pressure to her arm was added, causing her to shirek and curse him and his clan.

“Think about what you’re doing.” His grip on her head tightened. “Damn it, Pala, think about your son! He’s lost his siblings, do not make him lose his mother. You need to–”

It happened in a flash. Their movements were too fast for him to see until after they had done it.

Three pegasi dove down and embedded their spears in Pala’s skull. Smog’s eyes went wide in horror as he felt the dragon’s body seize. Her fins and spines stood on end, her face froze with a look of shock, before the dragon went limp. Smog let his grip loosen, and stepped away from Pala’s lifeless body.

She had been detained. He could have sworn it was over now. He saw a swarm of stallions approaching him with their spears drawn.

Smog hesitated to speak to those who’d slewn Pala. Only for a moment. He held up his hands.

“I’m a friend of Topaz Goldwing!”

Topaz arrived not long after the battle had concluded. To her horror, most of the village had been reduced to a smoldering pile of cinders. Guards assisted the injured, laying them down someplace comfortable as they tended to their wounds. The remaining guards gathered up their fallen comrades. She saw Smog off in the distance, thinking to himself, and Pala lying still in the middle of the town. She felt her dinner try and force its way up her throat, but managed to keep it down. One question still echoed in her mind. Where was Gemstone?

“Did you help stop them?” came a heavenly voice.

Topaz looked down and saw Princess Celestia herself, followed by several ponies wearing white garbs with red crosses on them. Once they saw the injured, they quickly rushed to help, leaving her alone with the Princess.

“No. I couldn’t get here in time.” Grimacing, Topaz felt her side, where her ribs still ached with the pain. “Did you stop them?”

“No,” Celestia said. “I came as soon as I received word there was an attack, but I made it a priority to bring doctors with me. That red dragon there, I’m told he helped fight her. Was it you who sent him?”

“Partly. You can thank Torch for thinking of the idea.”

Celestia slowly approached Smog. When she felt she was close enough, she cleared her throat, gaining his attention.

“Greetings. I am Princess Celestia. On behalf of Equestria, and this village, I thank you for your help.”

She bowed her head to the dragon.

“Don’t thank me. Don’t you dare thank me,” Smog said bitterly. “I didn’t want her dead. I-I thought I could–” His fist clenched and he started to quietly growl, smoke spilling from his maw and nostrils. He turned away from the princess. “Just leave me be.”

“I know how you must feel, but they made their choice. This wasn’t your fault.”

Celestia shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. She could see the anger and confusion welling up inside of him and obeyed his request. She bowed her head to him one last time, before taking her leave and returning to Topaz’s side.

“Who is he?”

“Smog Ironscale.”

His last name brought a frown to Celestia’s face. In the archives, there were reports written by the likes of Flash Magnus, Bella Breeze, Commander Ironhead, Nimbus Dash, and Grimhoof, detailing dragons that prided themselves for having the name Ironscale. One stood out above the rest, however. The soldiers said there was no demon more cruel nor vile than he. Scales red as blood, eyes of burning coal, a soul and heart black as a new moon, nor larger celebration once he was finally slain. Still, to see that an Ironscale had defended one of her villages was heartening.

“Please let him know Equestria is as open to him as it is to you. Neither of you will need to worry about guards or soldiers bothering you while within these borders.”

“I'd much rather know where my student is,” Topaz said.

“I think we may need to search amongst the fallen.” Celestia slowly made her way towards the dead. “Stay, I’ll bring her if I find her.”

Topaz forced herself to remain composed. She prayed that perhaps Gemstone had been spared by some miracle, that her brush with death had cleared her mind. It would be a long road to recover, but she would recover, grow up, have a family, and put her teacher’s lessons to good use.

Once Celestia stopped before a draped over body, she could feel her insides twist. When she saw Celestia’s horn ignite in the distance, retrieving a body draped in a white cloth, she prayed silently.

‘She’s going to be alive,’ Topaz thought. ‘Badly injured but alive. She can return to her father, her brother, they can mourn their loss and then move on.’

Her hopes were shattered the moment Celestia drew back the sheet, revealing to Topaz her student, Gemstone, motionless, colorless.

“Gemstone, oh Gemstone, no,” Topaz said, as she hovered over her student. Tears soon fell from her eyes and she apologized to her student. “I should have done more, I should have told you about this place sooner. I’m so sorry, Gemstone, I’m so sorry.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Celestia said. What more could she say?

“I’m taking her back with me, and letting Torch know you wish to speak with him,” Topaz said once she was able to keep her tears at bay.

“Thank you.”

Reaching down, Topaz carefully picked Gemstone up into her claws, before flying off into the night.

Chapter 25: Last of the Steelspines

The morning after the dragon rampage, Princess Celestia reviewed the list of casualties.

Of the Royal Guard stationed in town, twelve.

Her House Guard, nine.

And two dragons.

Celestia put down the scroll, and looked from atop the hill towards the smoldering wreck of Squires Gate, and closed her eyes, feeling so very, very tired. Her fatigue had nothing to do with a night during which she hadn’t slept a wink. She was an alicorn. But not since the Shadows had besieged Canterlot nearly fifty years ago did she see a crisis turn this deadly.

These twenty-three deaths were far too many.

News of the attack would spread like wildfire. When the day was over, Celestia could already foresee the competing headlines bound to grace newspapers and leaflets. Many of them calling dragons a threat which needed to be stomped out, insider stories from her soldiers vilifying dragons – but on the other side of the coin, townsfolk coming to the dragons’ defense, folk who’d grown up knowing old Topaz Goldwing and could use her funds to rebuild.

At her behest, Blueblood and Cadance had got up early and kept their ears to the ground. Their letters, written in haste, claimed that debate had begun to rage regarding the dragons. Talk of the devastation visited upon Squires Gate, but also the unlikely hero Smog, and kind, grandmotherly Topaz. The town’s citizens had been the first to speak out, breaking decades of silence on their special relationship with the elderly healer. What helped was that no-one from the town had died during the rampage. Herein lay her greatest chance at salvaging the situation.

However, now was not a time to mourn, nor to worry about the latest news cycle. Not for her. She needed to be strong. Dragons had attacked her country, and someone needed to answer for it.

Her surviving Guards had worked in shifts throughout the night, keeping watch for further danger, while Topaz and the red dragon Smog quietly departed with the bodies of the fallen Steelspine daughter. Gemstone, that was her name, Celestia had learned. The mother, Pala, had been left to them. Celestia’s last request for Topaz and Smog had been to pass on a message to Torch – that Pala’s body too would be returned to the Dragonlands, provided he met with her at Sardiors’ Pit.

The Guards, mortal as they were, needed longer sleep than she to remain fit. From their makeshift camp, amongst those who looked the freshest, she gathered a dozen Guards. Unicorns for firepower, pegasi for transportation, earthponies for raw force and heavy lifting. Enough to seem imposing, but not to actually threaten anything. Dragons respected strength, so she would play the part. It was a fine line to walk, especially now she was the party wronged. Nevertheless, she had no desire to escalate this further.

Celestia hoped that Torch would simply write the attackers off as renegades and give her some treasure to help rebuild the town. She was unaware if Torch knew about Topaz now, but this did not matter. If Torch’s people had been owed restitution from her three months ago, then he certainly owed it to her people now. After which they could each go their separate ways. She could appease the masses with the riches gained from the dragons, declaring the crisis resolved. Her subjects would certainly bury themselves in debates, yet no one side would ever truly gain ground. In a year, if the Great Dragon Migration came and went with no incident, like so many previous years, this one terrible tragedy would be nothing more than a memory.

When a Paladin had entered the Steelspines’ cave, summoning father and son on the morning after a restless night, and had suggested that Slicer wait elsewhere while he conversed with Kalamet, the family patriarch had sneered that his son was sufficiently mature to handle whatever the envoy had to say.

He regretted that decision almost instantly.

“I’m sorry to inform you,” the Paladin had said, “but your daughter is dead.”

Neither Kalamet nor Slicer believed him. Kalamet had shouted at the young dragon, but he simply nodded and did not stay long after he’d delivered the news. His only other words before departing were that a priest was preparing Gemstone for her final rest.

In a heartbeat, father and son rushed towards the great cave known as the Temple, where Kalamet found two priests preparing his daughter for burial, flanked by Paladins of different colors. Tears flowed like a river when he saw Gemstone lying on a stone slab, dressed in a white burial gown, hands folded over her chest.

Slicer tried desperately to wake his sister up. Yelling her name, shaking her, but she remained still, her eyes refusing to open. Soon a youthful female Paladin came, and carried Slicer outside, whispering soothingly to the whelp.

Nothing could have soothed Kalamet as he dug his claws into the stone floor.

“First my egg, now my daughter? What did I do for Bahamut to be so cruel?” he wailed, hovering over his daughter. “My sweet Gemstone, my little girl.” Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and his heart seized. “Pala. Where is Pala? She was supposed to be with her!”

“I’m so sorry,” said the younger of the two priests, whose name Kalamet did not know. “But your mate is gone. I was told that we would be receiving her body soon.”

There was a short silence before Kalamet could start to form words again. “Gone? How? Who?”

“From what I was told, ponies felled her after she attacked their village.”

“Ponies did this?” His tears dried and his body shook. Smoke began pouring from his maw. “Was my egg not enough? They needed to take my daughter and my mate? My son’s mother and sister? Those vile-!”

“Enough,” spoke the older priest.

He was a silver dragon, named Blast, once a Platinum Paladin sent out to cull Tiamat’s influence, now an old wyrm who tended to funeral rights. He spoke with a cracked, reedy voice, and he moved slowly, but with purpose. Blast was never one for tact. He was someone who looked at facts and facts alone. To him, emotions clouded reason, and got paladins, priests, and dragons killed.

The old priest looked back at the still dragon, the young girl dressed in a white gown. The proof was before him. Emotions could drive respectable dragons mad if left unchecked.

“The ponies defended themselves when attacked,” Blast said coolly, “Tragic as it is, Kalamet, your mate and daughter brought about their own demise.”

Wrath filled Kalamet’s being, and he took a single step towards the old priest. However, two waiting Paladins suddenly came upon him, pinning him to the ground, while the rest stared at him warningly. It was probably only their numbers which kept him from clawing his way through.

“Heartless wretch!” Kalamet screamed, the sound shaking dust from the cave roof.

“I have been called worse.” He turned away and let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Do not mistake my tone for indifference, Kalamet. I mourn your loss, but we are dragons. Equestria and other nations tell entire sagas about the worst of us, because fools thought they could be heroes by acting as Tiamat saw fit. If the members of your family weren't halted when they were, what do you think they would have done? What retaliation would they have wrought?” There was a deep silence, but Blast could feel Kalamet’s glare sear into the back of his head. “Think of this another way. When news reached us, do you think our Paladins would stay their blades? Trust me when I say that they haven’t before, they wouldn't now.”

“They were grieving,” Kalamet hissed, desperate to justify his family’s actions.

“That did not give them the right to spread that grief!” Blast snapped. “Though I pity them for what they lost, I refuse to pretend their actions were just. I cannot fathom how you must feel, but I will remind you, that you have not lost everything. Move past this, for your son’s sake.”

Kalamet’s sole response to his words was to shoot him a glare of utter contempt.

“Stay if you will, but unless you need council, I need to tend to the fallen.”

Kalamet let out a snort, shaking off the two paladins, and left the temple along with Slicer.

“You know,” said Silverstreak, the younger priest, once they were alone save for their silent Paladins, “there’s such a thing as compassion, Blast. You could try showing some.”

Blast let out a beleaguered sigh. “What was I supposed to say to him?” Blast asked, focusing on the gowned body. “‘They attacked Equestria, but worry not, for they had sympathetic reasons to do so’? ‘Yes, they wanted to slaughter countless innocents, I’m sure the ponies should have sheathed their blades and invited their aggressors to tea’! We are a people of laws. Laws are to be applied to all no matter the circumstances. Bahamut and Asgorath made us so that we may rise above our hardships, no matter how tragic they are.”

“Aren’t priests meant to bring comfort to the bereaved, the suffering?”

“That is but a small part of what we do, Silverstreak. We are meant to serve Asgorath and Bahamut, lead our dragons to them, guide them in life, keep them out of Tiamat’s grasp through teachings and consolation, and perform the rites that other dragons cannot. We may comfort where we can, and many other things as they fall within our duties. But we cannot make excuses for evil acts. They were grieving, I know. How many foals, stallions, and mares now grieve? We can do much for them, but there are times when community is needed. Many dragons tip-toe around the Steelspines, claiming they need space, an excuse to avoid them. Where were they when the Steelspines needed them?”

“Save for that brat,” Silverstreak muttered, recalling what he’d heard about the Sunwing girl.

“And yet, that girl has done more good for Slicer than anyone else in these lands,” Blast noted. “Tell me, how many of his friends sought him out, how many lifted his mood when sorrow clenched his heart? I can name only her. As for being a brat, I implore you to learn what a child is. I’ll introduce you to the Dragon Lord’s own daughter. Only eight, and she has an ego the size of her father, and an attitude as delightful as a scowl.”

“Perhaps we should agree to disagree.” Silverstreak suggested.

“Perhaps we should.” He said with a sigh.

Kalamet led Slicer back to the cave. Scarcely had they arrived, did he cast his gaze around. It all felt so empty now. Despite the size of the hoard, despite the precious rocks, without Gemstone, Pala, and Onyx, it wasn’t even their home anymore.

The Equestrians held his mate's body. But where would they bring it? Did he even need to ask? There was only one place where ponies would be allowed to set foot in to meet a dragon. Sardior’s Pit. They had scarcely arrived, and already Kalamet felt compelled to depart again. Slicer had only just set foot within the cave, before Kalamet nudged him back towards the entrance, drawing a wide-eyed look from his son.

“Son,” Kalamet said, his voice tinged with regret. “Go and find your friend. Tell her parents I need them to look after you while I find your mother.”

Poor Slicer had been holding his brother’s remains after the egg was shattered, and this alone had affected him deeply, until the Sunwing girl gave him something else to think about. Now his eyes had beheld his sister’s body. The last thing he needed to see was his mother’s corpse.

“But–”

“Now, Slicer!”

And Slicer reluctantly obeyed, leaving a home which no longer felt like home. With his son taken care of, Kalamet flew off into the distance.

Maybe Kalamet felt his son’s eyes on him as his figure receded ever further away, a widening gap which grew until they were separated by the horizon, an eternal haze in the Dragonlands.

Quite possibly, Kalamet merely imagined it, insofar as he spared another thought for Slicer at all.

Slicer himself would later have no recollection of whether he'd watched his father leave him, nor of the trek which brought him to the Sunwings’ cave, a place he knew of yet had never visited before then.

His perspective on the rest of that day was forever a blur.

But Scales, who was sitting on a stone in front of her family’s cave, idly sharpening her claws upon the wall of rock, saw him coming from afar.

It was a surprise, yet also a delight for Scales to see Slicer coming to her, when usually she was the one who went to him. She already had noticed that, slowly, he’d begun to need less prompting to do those things she knew were best for him. This must be a sign all her hard work was paying off.

Why, if Slicer was seeking her out now, how much longer before a certain someone noticed her?

Scales’ excitement was quite unfeigned when she stood up and nearly tackled Slicer, her tail wagging heartily as she stood over her friend. Even if it might still be a while until she got what she wanted, just being around Slicer reminded her how nice it felt to be seen as kind and helpful.

He did look kind of cute, too, especially when he fought. All the more reason not to let him give up on his skills.

“I was just about to get you, what do you–”

She paused when she saw the despondent look on his face. She got off of him, cocking her head from side to side.

“What’s wrong?”

Scales was shocked when his arms wrapped around her, and the embrace was tight. She heard her friend whimper. And then he broke down weeping.

Not since the day Scales had given Slicer comfort food at the quarry, with a forwardness her parents had harshly punished her for, had she seen him look this devastated.

Right away, her inner response was one of dread and dismay, with a strong pinch of frustration, at the thought that weeks’ worth of effort on working the case of Slicer Steelspine had been rolled back.

Her parents were still wary of their friendship, though they had not been able to forbid her from spending time with him once it became clear no-one in Slicer’s family was stopping them. He seemed more upbeat the past week. What happened to him that he would be so upset to begin with?

“Slicer,” she spoke again, voice muffled by the crook of his neck. “What happened?”

It still took time for Slicer to pull away from the embrace. When he did, his words came out faltering and in hiccoughs, yet gradually, Scales was able to piece together what he said. With every piece, her blood ran a little colder.

At last he finished, left to stare blankly at her from behind his tears.

As she processed all she’d been told, Scales found nothing better to do than step backwards, and turn her back on him, feeling her eyes close as she rested her temple in one palm, becoming deep in thought.

Why was this happening to him? Was his brother not enough, now he lost his sister and mother? Scales could only imagine what he’d do now. He’d want to seclude himself again, undoing everything they’d been working for. She was not about to let that happen.

“Scales?”

She turned back to face Slicer, grabbing his claw in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re not allowed to be alone,” she said.

Slicer blinked. “Huh?”

“I don’t want you to hide away from everyone again!” The whelp clarified. “I don’t know what you feel like, but you still have me.” The grip on his hand tightened and he was suddenly pulled into a hug. “You still have me.”

He was still overwhelmed by his sorrow, but there was a certain warmth to Scale’s words. He once again wrapped his arms around his friend, and allowed himself to weep. There the dragons stayed for the rest of the day.

The Sun reached its zenith, and soon the Princess of the Sun would arrive.

It was extremely rare for a Dragon Lord to meet more than once with a pony in Sardior’s Pit. Aside from Torch, the only other two were Maliek and his successor. Both recalled the terror they felt looking down at Prince Solaris, with his cold emotionless voice that nevertheless rumbled the Earth. Torch wondered what mood Celestia would be in when she arrived.

Before too long, the now-familiar silhouette of the equine Princess and her Guards landed, bearing between them in a suspended aura the body of Pala Steelspine. Previously, only three guards had accompanied Celestia. Now, she had come escorted by a large contingent of soldiers. Stoic as ever, Celestia’s face nonetheless wore a frown this time, her brows knitted together.

Torch’s own expression did not waver, as he maintained his usual mask of simmering intensity, yet he could not deny the anxiety that clawed at his stomach. He himself had demanded recompense in blood when the egg was shattered. What would she demand, now that his subjects had slaughtered many times that? Refusing her would be easy, but dishonorable. With effort, he repressed his fear and worry, keeping his posture straight.

For her part, as Celestia approached, she recalled the lessons that her father taught her when meeting with the Dragon Lord.

‘Never go into a meeting attributing an act to a monarch’s malice that can be attributed to a subject’s stupidity and evil.’ Right. Torch sent dragons to help, this is not his fault.

‘Never show emotion, be they good or ill, lest it be misinterpreted. Wars end with bloodshed, but can start with a poor joke.’ This was going to be a tense meeting, and it should be. She needed to remain calm and collected.

‘Speak loudly and clearly. You’re so much smaller than them, they will likely have trouble hearing a soft voice. Finally, be clear, brief, and humble when expressing your demands.’

“Princess Celestia,” Torch greeted, giving her a slight bow of his head.

“Lord Torch,” Celestia responded, with a curtsy of her own. With the support of her Guards, she lay Pala’s body gently on the ground. The shimmer of auras coating the body, from which a rainbow spectrum had cast its light upon the pit, dissolved as they released their magical grasp, leaving only the drab colorlessness of rock to their surroundings. “First, I bring you the slain dragon. I’m sorry for what we had to do, to both of them. My condolences to her mate as well.”

Torch scoffed. He would be mad to extend that sentiment to Kalamet.

“On the matter of recompense, I ask that we keep this brief,” Celestia stated. “I request compensation to help restore the town this dragon destroyed.” She pushed forward a medium-sized chest. “You are to give us a collection of enough gold, silver, and unrefined platinum to fill this chest.”

Torch waited what felt like an eternity for her to continue, to demand something else of him. Yet nothing followed. She merely kept looking at him with a blank face.

“Well?” Celestia asked, seemingly growing impatient.

Celestia felt like she was walking a fine line. Truth be told, she knew little of Torch. She didn’t know if he would laugh at her since he’d sent Smog to help the town, which might give him an excuse to say that he’d done enough, or if he would take offense. But she couldn’t simply do nothing. There had to be some repercussions she could show to her subjects, and other nations that were watching her.

“That’s it?” said Torch.

He was recalling the demands he’d made of her. He wanted the criminals, and she’d delivered the mastermind. She had offered Kalamet platinum, even though the Steelspine patriarch had appreciated it. Yet, Celestia only wanted such a miniscule restitution?

“The perpetrators have already been dealt with,” Celestia replied, “partly thanks to the help of a dragon whom you sent. I assume these were renegades, and thus not representative of your lands as a whole. Nothing more than a monetary restitution is demanded so repairs to the town can be made. If I am correct in such an assumption, and you do disavow the attackers, then the moment this chest is full, we will be on our way.”

“You are correct,” Torch said, after pretending to ponder the request for a moment. “I do disavow them, and consider your request fulfilled.”

Disavowing the two dragons was easy enough for him to do. He had made the consequences of Gemstone’s actions as clear as he could have for disobeying him – banishment from the Dragonlands, then having his Ruby Paladins deliver the girl to Celestia for trial, conviction, and sentencing. The same would have been done to Pala, were it possible.

While small to a dragon, the chest Celestia had proffered was rather large when compared to a pony. Filling it would provide enough funds to rebuild their destroyed town thrice over, and allow the families of the fallen to resume a comfortable existence.

The Dragon Lord took the chest, and was about to turn, quite prepared to retrieve the treasure from his personal hoard, when a voice roared through the quarry.

“Torch!” Kalamet snarled as he landed.

His landing shook the ground and made Celestia turn pale.

Towering above the Princess and her Guards was the husband and father of the attackers, his eyes glowing with anger, his very scales looking dark and foreboding.

Celestia almost cursed. She should have given Torch the damn chest, told him to fill it at his leisure and have someone deliver the contents back to her whenever he felt like it. Perhaps this would have been a weaker response, but now she had to assume every pony present was in danger. She made a gesture of her wing towards the guards, warning them to prepare for violence.

“Kalamet,” Torch said wearily. “You were not invited to this meeting.”

But Kalamet ignored him. “Where is Pala? Where–” He stopped speaking. When Kalamet had seen his daughter, his heart was as though pierced by a thousand javelins. Upon seeing his mate lying prone on the quarry floor, without even the cleansing and embalming the priests had treated his daughter to, with Pala’s dead body littered with slashes and many other wounds, three deep holes in the back of her skull where the ponies had driven in their spears – those javelins were ripped out, only to be plunged back in.

“Pala.”

Kalamet spoke in a broken voice. He went to the lifeless dragon, and cupped her face.

“My mate, my sweet mate. My Pala.”

He pressed his head against hers, and the sound of weeping filled the quarry. Celestia and the Guards felt pity in their hearts for the dragon who wept over his mate.

Unusually silent, Torch mouthed for Celestia to leave.

She dearly wanted to. Yet a part of her, the part taught to hope for the best yet prepare for the worst, worried at just what the mourning dragon would do once she left. She had seen this very same dragon, brutally rejecting her blood money at Sardiors’ Pit, furious that even one of the murderers would go free – when she had given up the rest to a sorry fate. There had already been one attack, a retaliation from a family who could not satisfy themselves with what justice had been done.

Would there be another attack? Would Lord Torch himself be safe? She could not just wait and see what would happen in the next three months. Another attack would make it impossible to contain the cries for blood that would follow. Yet what could she ask of Torch? That the Dragon Lord imprison a mourning husband and father, purely for fear Kalamet would prove as reckless as his slain family?

'Watch him,' Celestia mouthed back.

Perhaps it was better if she did leave. They could always reconvene at a later time, and Torch already knew what she wanted, so she could either expect a chest full of gold to be delivered to Canterlot, or for one to be at the ready if they needed to meet again.

She motioned at her Guards to fall back, but before they could take their first step, a voice growled.

“What did you do to my mate, my daughter?” Kalamet snarled, lifting his tear-stained face away from Pala’s, turning his eyes towards Celestia.

Celestia tensed, sensing a wheel was in motion she might be powerless to stop.

For a flicker, she wondered if she could still draw the heat off herself. Were she to mention Topaz and Smog’s involvement in halting the rampage, perhaps Kalamet would see that his own kind had opposed their murderous actions. However, She recalled how Kalamet had responded when Torch last sought to reel him in. And it would be a lie. Dragons had tried to hold back other dragons’ wrath, yet it was not by their hand that the perpetrators were killed.

“They attacked my subjects, and they defended themselves,” Celestia said quietly. “I was not there to strike the killing blow, but I will not condemn my guards for what they did. We gave you the criminals who took a life from you, unprovoked. I followed the trail to find the one who’d masterminded the crime, and gave him up too.” She hefted a deep sigh. “I would have liked to return your family alive. I must assume they acted in the heat of the moment, but they made a choice, and they forced us to make one as well.”

“First you animals take my egg. Now my daughter and mate.” Kalamet took a step forward, shaking the ground. “What more will you take from me?”

“Kalamet,” said Celestia, keeping her inner desperation concealed. “I’m so sorry for your loss. But please, if you don’t want to lose what you have left, think of your son. I cannot expect you to just let this go, but–”

Hearing the Princess prattle on, something broke inside of Kalamet. The tears stopped flowing.

“You’re sorry for my loss?” Kalamet said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “Can I not blame you pieces of filth for what happened to them? You were the ones that drove them mad. You attacked our cave. You vile pieces of dreck drove a spear into my children-”

“Kalamet,” Torch called to him, “Cease this!”

He put a claw on his shoulder and Kalamet turned, his fist colliding with Torch’s face.

“And you!” Kalamet snarled. “You call yourself strong, you call yourself the Dragon Lord, but you cower before these pathetic creatures! Mewling before their Princess like some animal begging for food. You’re no Dragon Lord. A real lord would have taught these things to fear these lands! Let them know that for every one of us slain, a hundred of them follow!”

Torch sighed. He could tolerate insults, even doubts about his competency. But he would not tolerate borderline treason. He was done with being kind. The punch he threw back was twice as strong, and the impact resonated around Sardior’s Pit, leaving the fearsome Kalamet dazed and sprawled on the ground. Torch stomped down on his chest, before roughly grabbing Kalamet’s face and bringing it close.

“Kalamet, your line of thinking is what gave birth to those damn slayers! Hundreds of dragons died because two dragons couldn’t bear the thought that their hoard had been touched by two foals! I understand you are in mourning, but I will not let you act like an animal any further!” Torch’s grip tightened. “Your family has endangered every dragon in this land. And you think it wise to offend the Sun Princess? You think you can strike me and suffer nothing? I am not Flare, Kalamet.” His eyes roved towards the Princess. “Celestia, treason carries a heavy penalty here. But I am in a merciful mood. I wish to banish this wretch. Would you be able to detain him if I turned him over to you?”

“That would not be wise,” Celestia found herself saying. There were things in Tartarus that she feared might escape. Placing a dragon in that prison would be foolish to say the least. “And he has done nothing to me nor my country. It’d be inappropriate for me to decide his fate.”

“Fine. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.”

Torch saw the look his subject was giving him, the blazing hatred that filled his eyes, and stomped again upon Kalamet’s torso, who was left gasping for air as he grasped the Dragon Lord’s foot, and tried to push it off himself.

“Return home now, Kalamet,” said Torch, removing his weight from the prone dragon, “and wait for me to finish here. Behave, and I will consider a light sentence, for your son’s sake.”

At first, Kalamet struggled to lift himself from the ground, as if his back were still pinned down. Until, rolling onto his stomach, he was able to push himself up, and pitifully rose. He was breathing heavily. When he walked, his gait was ungainly, unbalanced. He stumbled with every other step, reaching out, nearly falling. As he found his way, Kalamet’s outstretched claw grabbed Torch by the shoulder, finding support in the larger and taller dragon’s bulk.

Torch tensed at this, having been aggressed by this fool once before. However, seeing how beaten-down Kalamet looked, he granted him support, trusting the lesson had been made clear this time.

It was only when Kalamet pulled the Dragon Lord towards him that Torch realized his mistake, as sharp claws entered his side with ease, going deep inside.

Even as he let out a deathly cry, Torch swung to knock his treacherous opponent away, yet Kalamet, whose strength had apparently never left him, and actually seemed amplified by an unholy fury, recovered quickly and leapt back towards him.

Before Torch could comprehend what was happening, Kalamet’s teeth had sunk into his exposed shoulder, and he felt the savage raking of sharp claws across his face. Regardless of size or toughness, the sudden white burst of pain was too great. The attack had come this close to scratching Torch’s eyes out, to say nothing of the very real wounds it had opened up across his body in a horrendously short space of time.

Half-blinded, with red fog in his brain, Torch was holding his face, be it to shield it or to staunch the blood’s flow, as he collapsed into a thrash heap on the ground, the air in his lungs entering and coming out in an erratic staccato, weakening.

Kalamet might have finished him off, had he not heard the gasps of shock and horror. Reminded of the presence of the ponies, his head snapped around, jaws opening with a bestial roar to unleash a torrent of fire toward the ponies.

Celestia was just swift enough to leap in front, conjuring a shield around herself and her troops.

Many guards followed suit, reinforcing her dome-like shield with their own, an added layer beneath. The rampaging dragon did not relent. No sooner than the acrid smoke cleared and he saw that his flames had failed, he slammed both fists into the barrier. His first strike cracked the fused shields’ upper layer; the second, aided by a new gust of fire, came close to shattering it.

Although Celestia’s barrier absorbed the blow, it could not fully halt momentum, much like her Guards’ armor may deflect a lethal spell yet not its kinetic impact. Even with Celestia’s protection, the force of the dragon’s punches was wearing down on the Guards’ layer of shielding, provoking flickers and stutters in the dome’s surface at an increasing rate, a weakening accelerated by Kalamet’s unyielding flame.

Feeling the clock counting down, Celestia tried to think. The dragon was too frenzied to be reasoned with. If any of her Guards were to attempt a direct assault, they would die. Yet if she did nothing, they were just as dead. She alone held the power to parry Kalamet. But what would that entail? She had no Elements of Harmony. No Luna by her side, nor Discord, nor Starswirl, nor Father.

Right then, as if to taunt Celestia over how alone she was, the Guards’ collective shield collapsed in a spark of light. Leaving her shield as the sole thin layer separating them from a fiery death. Celestia looked up and saw blood dripping from Kalamet’s mouth, the crimson stains on his claws.

With the first hit upon Celestia’s barrier, her spell held firm. On the second hit, nothing. The third was equally futile. It would not be so forever.

Her mind was still racing. What would happen once Luna made her return? What destruction would Luna bring upon the world without her there? The thought of Blueblood, Cadance, and little Twilight waiting for her back at the castle flashed in her mind’s eye. What would they do when they heard about this? Without her there to guide them, Twilight especially, what path would they go down?

One other option could have presented itself. The escape-hatch for the most adept of spell-casters. Teleportation. She might have spirited them all away, back to the safety of home. If only there were not also Torch to consider. Were she to flee now, Kalamet would almost certainly deal him the killing blow. Not only was Torch out of range to take him with them, his size would leave her too drained to do much else if she did.

A final question entered her mind, as at last her barrier crumpled under Kalamet’s assault. What would this monster do to her loved ones if he razed Equestria? Knowing the answer, Celestia made her choice.

Suddenly, her eyes glowed white for a moment, as her mane seemed to ignite, becoming a raging fire. Her shield burst, sending out a powerful force that sent the dragon and her Guards tumbling to the ground. Kalamet landed with a thud, dazed but alive.

What lifted from the ground wasn’t Celestia.

She was different, changed. Her eyes a sinister yellow floating in a pool of deep crimson, her mane a blazing incandescence, her coat turned a harsher shade of white, and her teeth as sharp as daggers. The raw power that irradiated from her was almost divine, like a god who had finally grown tired of showing mercy and would instead manifest before his creations with justice and wrath.

“Stay. Down!” She roared, her voice echoing through the Dragonlands, shaking the very earth on which the others stood.

The dragon lifted himself up and snarled at the Princess, fire filling his maw. Celestia’s horn ignited and, lazer-like, three beams of magic were fired. Three beams of magic entered Kalamet. Three beams of magic exited his back.

Kalamet fell forward, his mass shaking the ground, and became still.

Celestia could feel her stomach twist as she descended back to earth. Her mane, eyes and teeth returned to normal as she breathed heavily. She had not wanted their confrontation to end like this, but what choice did she have?

She forced down a shriek of agony welling up in her throat, and turned away.

“We’re leaving,” the Princess told her Guards.

They appeared not to hear her. They could only stare at their monarch, frozen in place. They had heard of the power an alicorn could possess, but Celestia had always made it seem like those were myths and legends, tales to frighten children. Now? They had seen the myths and legends come to life. They didn’t know whether to prostate themselves, or to run from her.

“Move out, now!” She repeated.

The Guards scrambled to their hooves and did as they were told. Celestia kept her eyes on Torch, and her eyes hardened.

“Keep withdrawing. I will catch up with you as soon as I can.”

They obeyed without hesitation, but she could tell they were not fueled by loyalty. She walked up to the Dragon Lord and found his breathing shallow, his face pale, blood freely spilling from his wounds. She took a deep breath. She didn't know how much strength she had left, but it should be enough to help the Dragon Lord.

“I am not letting anyone else die.”

She placed her horn against the dragon’s hide, and a light enveloped his wounds.

A flare was shot high into the air, and it didn’t take long for a group of dragons to investigate.

They were shocked to find Torch injured, barely clinging on to life, as well as the corpses of Pala and Kalamet Steelspine. They quickly brought Torch to a healer, before alerting the Temple’s priests. The healer came accompanied by two others to begin mending the Dragon Lord. They had one dragon spare their blood, while their fellows used no less than wire as stitching to force his wounds closed. They felt thankful that the wounds did not run too deep, otherwise Torch would already be dead. Once done, they applied bandages to his face and torso, covering the wounds from sight.

Having been given a chance to rest, he awoke, groggy, weak, and desperate. The three healers, now in the company of two Paladins, one in platinum armor, one wearing a ruby badge, asked Torch if the Equestrians had tried to kill him.

“No.”

If a rumor spread that Celestia had done this to him, war would break out.

“This was Kalamet. Find him.”

"He's already dead, Lord Torch."

The news of Kalamet’s death did not bring the relief that Torch expected. However, the news that he’d gotten lucky over how badly Kalamet had wounded him did.

“They were anything but shallow,” Torch managed to whisper.

He’d known he was dead the moment Kalamet thrust his claws into his sides and face. There was only one being with the power to save him, who could also kill Kalamet with ease. He raised a shaky claw towards the Paladins.

“You both, tell everyone that Kalamet tried to have me killed, Celestia saved me. That’s an order.”

The Paladins obeyed.

Topaz helped him back to his cave, laying him down in a comfortable spot. It was not peaceful, though. The Dragon Lord’s family were in uproar. Blaze let out a shriek of horror when she saw Torch and his bloodied bandages, breaking down into tears at the sight of her mate. When Torch was laid down to rest, Ember clung to her father’s side, weeping, promising to be good and taking back any insult she ever flung at him, begging him to be alright.

“Oh, little one,” Topaz said. “He’s not dead, just hurt and tired.”

“She’s right. I-I’m fine,” Torch managed to mutter. a single eye still able to see, locking onto his daughter. “I’m fine, Ember. Daddy’s fine.”

Soon, the weeping ceased, though Blaze and Ember were still worried for Torch. Blaze managed to strengthen her resolve. Topaz had informed them both that Torch would need time to rest and recover and that she would be close by to make sure everything went well.

With Torch too injured to carry out his duties, by the laws of their Lands, the title of Dragon Lord now fell to Blaze as his consort, until such time as he’d made his recovery, although she was free to defer it to the previous Gauntlet’s runner-up.

Blaze chose to accept the mantle. Her first act as Dragon Lord was to bring Ember to the Ironscales. While this gave her a strong feeling of deja vu, she knew the coming days were going to be chaotic. She needed time to acclimate to her new position, and with Torch injured as he was, someone needed to look after Ember.

“You’re going to be staying with them for some time,” Blaze explained as she approached the cave. “I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

Her daughter nodded. “And that will help Dad?”

“It will give him time to focus on getting better. I would suggest visiting him when you can. Seeing you would mean the world to him.”

Ember would do just that.

In the meantime, Blaze’s next priority would be to sort out the last remnant of the once-great Steelspine Clan.

Over the horizon, on the shores of the sea, the Sun Princess gathered with her contingent.

Celestia wished she could just teleport back to Equestria, but she was too drained from the healing Torch. It had taken nearly every ounce of magic in her to heal all of Torch’s internal injuries, reverse all the most significant damage that he’d incurred, and partially heal the external injuries. There would be scars despite her efforts, Torch was going to be blind in one eye for the rest of his life, but if dragons investigated the magical flare she sent into the sky, Torch would live.

She felt faint for the first time in ages. If the healing spells were not enough, turning into that thing added to her fatigue. The power it granted her, it was a thrilling experience to say the least. It must have been what Luna felt when she’d transformed, godlike. Turning back to normal, forcing it down, it had left her weakened, with a small part of her wanting to experience it again.

Her guards? They seemed to be walking on eggshells. They had seen the unbridled power of an alicorn, what were they supposed to do with that knowledge? What were they to say to her?

“Gentlemen,” Celestia whispered, not knowing her own voice. “Today has been taxing, I understand. I request that you keep what you all saw to yourselves.”

“Yes ma’am,” many replied, desperately trying not to make eye contact

For Celestia, that response would have to be enough. Too weak to fly, she mounted her chariot.

As they traveled through the skies, the day began to grow late. Celestia checked the time. Sunset. She needed to move the Sun and Moon. She was running on fumes, but with a little effort, she could still get the job done. Celestia’s horn shone, and slowly the Sun began its descent. She could feel herself sweating the longer the task went on. Soon, the Sun was out of sight, and the Moon had taken its place in the sky.

She smiled at her triumph, only for her vision to go blurry.

‘Damn it,’ she thought to herself, as she suddenly lost her balance, feeling herself lapse into unconsciousness.

The last thing she saw before the world went dark was her guards scrambling towards her as she fell through the air.

Chapter 26: Foals in the Castle

Twilight couldn’t decide which was worse. The fact that summer vacation had arrived two weeks early for no apparent reason, or that Princess Celestia had to leave and take care of more princess business. Likely the latter, since Celestia usually returned home sad when she went on princess business. If Twilight really wanted to go on learning, she could always sneak into summer school once it started, and make up for the lost study time that was so cruelly taken away from her.

That is, if summer school ever got started. Twilight couldn’t tell why, but Canterlot was different. Armored guards had been stationed all around the city. Pegasi patrolling the sky, unicorns manning the towers and battlements, earth ponies marching through the streets.

In the face of this, many ponies had decided it would be a good idea to leave on an early vacation to the countryside for a couple of weeks. At least Twilight didn’t have too much to fear from her parents on that score. While maybe her mother thought that Hoofsbury Publishing House could make do without an extra editor during the warm months, her father would never leave the Academy unless the whole city was already ablaze – and even then, he’d have saved all the books he could first.

However, Prince Blueblood had gone the opposite route, and actually deemed it better to bring ponies to Canterlot Palace.

She had hid under the grand curving staircase of the Palace’s entrance hall, where she’d kept watch for Celestia’s return every morning. She couldn’t bear to be spotted by the gaggle she saw enter through the front door, led by Blueblood.

Much to Twilight’s shock, Apple Jewel was real.

The earthpony filly was about her age, perhaps a year younger. She had golden hair lazily tied at the end of a ponytail, a bright orange coat, and deep green eyes. She also wore a stetson hat, something that Blueblood should have found hideous for its “rustic” style. Worse, the filly had siblings. Worse than that, Blueblood had invited them to the castle as well.

“This is amazing! Ah ain’t never been inside a castle!” squeaked an annoyingly grating, high-pitched voice as the clattering of hooves echoed through the halls; the younger filly speaking had to be three, four years old at most. “Does this mean we get to eat tiny fancy food? Oh, oh, how bouncy are the beds? Can Ah play in the gardens? Can Ah have butlers bringin’ me some apples whenever I want ‘em? Do Ah get endless dessert?”

“It's nice an’ all, but it don’t beat the farm,” rumbled an abnormally deep voice, a large red stallion’s. “We shouldn’t even be here, not with the harvest startin’. We should still be there helping Granny, not lazing about like some snob with a silver spoon shoved down his throat.”

Hidden as she was, Twilight could practically hear the glare he must have shot Blueblood.

“Ah hush it, Mac,” said Apple Jewel. “It’s only three weeks, try an’ have some fun. If you have trouble killin’ time, maybe you can help the gardeners. Ah’m sure you could teach ‘em a thing or two.”

“Indeed he could,” Blueblood said smoothly. “Now then. I can give you all a tour if you want. Why don’t we start with the safe rooms?”

Twilight bristled at the words. Blueblood had to be doing this to spite her.

Just a few days ago, Twilight’s parents had announced she and her brother would be staying in the castle for a few weeks, on the condition that Shining Armor was to mind his sister no matter what. So, when they’d set off, Twilight had made sure to pack extra food and a few lightbulbs for Star Lizard the Bearded, her pogona lizard, more commonly known as a bearded dragon.

She remembered that when Cadance had led the siblings to their room, which was a stone’s throw away from Princess Celestia’s personal bedroom, she’d overheard her foalsitter assure her parents it was also right next to something called a “safe” room. Apparently, not even a fully-grown dragon could get into one of those, and even if they could, there was a teleportation circle ready to whisk them away to some far-off part of Equestria.

What a nifty room to have. Twilight wished she could dive into one right now and perhaps be whisked away to the National Archives in Manehattan.

The days at Canterlot Palace were divided into slots, courtesy of shared planning between Princess Cadance and the castle’s butler, Kibitz.

Normally, such regimented scheduling suited Twilight just fine. The problem was that, in mapping out the days, Cadance had very deliberately left large open slots labeled as ‘anything but work’. Staying at the castle would have been a better surprise for Twilight if only Celestia were around. Or if Timber and Flash hadn’t also been invited. probably a special favor called in by their families. Flash came from a long line of guards, while Timber’s family tended to the gardens. His great-grandfather was still the groundskeeper, and particularly enjoyed the animal sanctuary. She’d been instructed to heed Cadance as she’d heed her mother, so the moment Twilight had retreated into her bedroom, what did her babysitter do with that authority?

She betrayed her.

“No studying until the afternoon, Twilight,” Cadance was saying sternly, standing with her frame and wings raised to block off access to the desk, littered as it was with all the papers and scrolls planned for this week’s studies. “You have to play with Flash and Timber, and have fun.”

Twilight groaned, remembering what her mother had said, but Shining voiced his concerns while holding Twilight back.

“Cadance, don’t you think we should respect Twilight’s wants?” Shining suggested. “I mean, maybe we could try introducing her to that filly your cousin invited, but Flash and Timber? Really?”

Cadance sighed theatrically. “Maybe you’re right, Shining. I guess she doesn’t have to play with them. Oh, but I had so many days planned! What to do in the meantime? I guess I could go introduce myself to that handsome stallion Blueblood’s friend brought. There’s something about strong, muscular, silent farmboys that just–”

The pink alicorn fell silent, biting her lower lip as she fanned herself furiously.

Instantly, Shining changed his tune.

“Twilight, Cadance put a lot of work into planning this vacation for us, and you are being rude by refusing! You’re going to play with Flash and Timber.”

Part of Twilight wished there was someone else to play with, but it was for naught. The girls at school had all gone on vacation, leaving her behind. And it wasn’t even as if either Timber Spruce and Flash Sentry actually liked her. This was all their families’ idea.

Or at least, Flash staying over was Blade Sentry’s idea, from what she understood. Timber was more of a charity case. Cadance had explained that since his family couldn’t afford to take him on vacation, he’d be staying in the castle with the rest of them, something she suggested might be fun.

Twilight had assured her it wouldn’t be.

The first slot of the day consisted of Cadance’s planned activities. Mostly board games, arts-and-crafts, or exploring the city, but not too far into the city. With a summer rain shower scheduled by the weather corps later that day, nobody felt much like going on a walk, so the company retreated to Princess Celestia’s tea-room, converted for the occasion into a makeshift playroom.

Shining Armor was making use of his leisure time for a three-hour session of Ogres & Oubliettes.

Naturally, the children were all invited to partake foremost, but anyone was welcome who held even a cursory interest in the intricately-crafted and decades-spanning complexity of the venerable game. Out of consideration for the uninitiated, however, Shining had previously conceded they needn’t dive head-first into one of the classic campaign settings such as Misbegotten Planes or Tartarron. And Dragonspear, for obvious reasons that were kept from most of the foals, was feeling kind of taboo to him right now.

So, they’d be starting from scratch on this campaign. And while playing with novices meant having to find the right balance between hooves-on guidance and letting them discover the game for themselves, Shining had a hidden back-up reason for playing Oubliette Master on this one. He reckoned that how he handled the group’s dynamics was good practice if he wanted to make officer in the Guard, someday.

Shining was a mighty Wizard, Fidchel. Flash was a conniving Rogue, Skeith. Timber had chosen to be a dutiful Paladin, Magus. And the big red stallion, who upon hearing about the game had opted to leave Blueblood’s group and join them, was a savage Fighter-Warlock by the name of McBiggen, servant of the dark dragon Tiamat, archnemesis of Prince Blueballs, the Sister Defiler, who’d deceived his dear little sister and now kept her locked away in a tower, to inflict vile depravities upon her at a later date.

This got Shining to declare him ‘a kindred spirit’ and ‘a brother in arms’, while then glaring at Flash and Timber, who were paying Twilight no heed and bashing their character tokens against one another, laughing jovially as they did.

Cadance, who had joined them after checking in with Blueblood’s group, was heard to groan throughout the red stallion’s backstory.

Shining himself glanced to see what they were up to. Any guilt he might have felt that they’d been left out was rapidly assuaged, however. Arts-and-crafts was their chosen activity, by the look of things.

For all his faults, Blueblood was a skilled navigator and mapmaker. It seemed he and the two Apples had found a way to combine interests, because the sisters were showing him how thin slices of apple, carefully varnished so they wouldn’t rot, could be laid out into the shapes of continents on a big sheet of paper – Apple Jewel holding the paper down, Apple Bloom applying varnish and glue and glitter.

Back in Shining’s own game, Twilight was a Warlock named Innus, meaning that she’d made a deal with mystic forces to obtain magical powers. She decided that she’d make a deal with Celestia, but upon hearing she was unable to use Celestia, she opted to serve a being known as Telestia, Entity of the Sun.

In the end, Shining was unable to tell her ‘no’. Cadance had decided to be a wandering Bard, May Dance, the spreading love, music, and joy wherever she went. The more she heard Macintosh, or Mcbiggen

“Alright,” said Shining, as he set up the Oubliette Master screen, “if everyone’s got their character sheets noted down, we can get started.”

The beauty of Ogres & Oubliettes was always the enormous amount of freedom it granted, with very little restriction by an “official” background setting in the rulebook. Even so, Shining felt it’d be a good idea to draw from a couple of beginner’s campaigns for this, freely adapting story elements if necessary to keep the narrative on track.

‘The Curse of The Statuettes’ and ‘The Festival of Lights’, from the Tails of Equestria guidebook. Fine stuff. He couldn’t wait to see how Twilight reacted to a creature like the bookwyrm, with its ridged spines made of book bindings and scales of paper scrolls. It ate the writing in books to survive.

“You start in the Agaricus Forest,” Shining narrated to the group, “beyond which, sealed away from Equestria for nigh on a thousand years, lies the hidden city of Umberfoal-”

At the back of his mind, Shining wondered if it was possible the writers had been inspired by the real-life tale of the Crystal Empire, a city lost in the north, or so the legend went. Legend also said that sealed beneath the Empire rested a race of soulless, malevolent creatures called Umbrum, or as some called them, the Shadow of Concordia. In the game, they were simply called Shades.

Funny how myth, legends and other silly stories could shape a game. It was said that the creator of the game modeled the main pantheon after stories that he’d heard from actual living dragons, who were more than happy to share their knowledge with him. They even urged him to add the gods of their faith to the book. Asgorath and Bahamut were one of the most widely used gods for Clerics and Paladins, while Tiamat was used for Warlocks. There were entire campaigns written around Tiamat. It sometimes felt like the five-headed dragon was almost the face of the game. Though most couldn’t name her, they knew where she was from.

There were three more dragon gods, but the information for them was scarce. In fact, there were rumors that the only reason they were included was because the dragons who spoke with the creator were adamant that all their gods be included, even if it was nothing more than a paragraph of information, a picture and a name.

As for today’s game, ot went simply enough. Typical for a Rogue, Flash pilfered anything not nailed down that had value. Timber explored the ruins seeking things to fight, with Twilight not too far behind.

“My armor class stinks,” Twilight noted, “and most of my attacks are long ranged. I'm staying behind the guy with plate mail, a magic shield, and a cloak of protection.”

It took her less than an hour to learn the rules and memorize the monster manual. He could already feel that his sister was going to create a powerhouse of a character if given the chance, meaning he needed to limit multi-classing. No more than two classes per character.

Cadance was following Mac about the ruined city. There had been a few encounters, but the party managed to handle them well. Mac was the worst, Shining found himself thinking. Not because he was a bad player, far from it. He was one of the best, and the dice seemed to love him – no, the dice were throwing themselves at him. His typical rolls never went below a ten, rolls against him seemed to always be low, and damage? It was as if fate wanted him to succeed. After every battle he seemed to recite an oath to Tiamat.

At one point, Timber openly asked whether he should attack considering that their gods opposed one another , but Shining said that unless Mac went against the party, it was not allowed. Timber’s unusually good armor set? Goodies meant to be found after discovering clues and fighting tough enemies. Mac’s rolls made quick work of his hidden troves and his sub-bosses, while Twilight’s intellect took care of everything else.

“Alright,” Shining narrated, “you come to the top of the Arcane Tower, before you all lies the hideous and monstrous Prince. He cackles maniacally, as the spell to undo the seal keeping the Umbrum contained is slowly being completed. A bound Applegem rests not too far from him-”

“Yes, the evil fiend,” Cadance said wryly. “What was it you named my cousin, Mac? Blueballs? Lovely.” She jerked her head towards the foals while giving him a disapproving glare. “So, for my turn…”

She brought the two stallions in close and gently whispered.

“... I plead with my cousin to leave his evil ways, before I seduce McBiggen’s sister. We’re doing things that are rated-X or worse.” Cadence shot Mac a smirk and rolled her dice. “Ooh, I rolled two twenties! Plus five because my charisma is so high, add another few dice due to Timber’s Bless and my Bardic inspiration. That’s over thirty for the first and twenty-nine for the second.”

Unable to argue with a Natural 20, nor her high rolls, Shining confirmed that May Dance the Friendly had not only convinced Blueballs to change his ways, but she had also seduced McBiggen’s beloved sister.

Shining let out a despondent sigh. “So, despite kidnapping young sweet Apple Gem, and declaring that he would unleash an era of darkness to cover the land, Bluebl– Blueballs changes his ways and stops the spell because May Dance basically told him to stop being mean…” He saw Cadance wriggle her eyebrows, looking suggestive. “... And something else also happens we won’t get into.”

“Come on, that’s so lame!” Flash huffed. “I wanted to backstab him.”

“Yeah, I can’t let evil go unpunished!” Timber added.

“He will burn in the fires of the sun!” Twilight barked. “Besides, I want to know what happens next!”

Shining was not going to tell them what happened next. His parents, Blade Sentry, and Gloriosa would find him and kill him. Fortunately, there was one thing he could lean on to distract them, bribery.

“Blueballs is giving you all magic items. A Dragon's Wrath Longsword, one that is stirring. It has a radiance sub-damage type for Timber. There is a Cloak of Abysiana for Flash, which gives him advantage on stealth checks, and a Rod of the Pact Keeper + 2 for Twilight.”

“I forgive him!” Flash said.

“Yeah, it’s not like Mcbiggen’s sister is dead,” Timber agreed. “And the seal keeping the Shades from getting out should still be intact. No harm no foul.”

“I will accept his gift, thank him, and use it to decimate my enemies in the name of Telestia!” Twilight said with a smile.

Mac wrote a message to Shining on a piece of paper. ‘I try and convince my sister to stay chaste.’ Shining nodded, and Mac rolled his dice. It was the first natural one Mac had ever rolled.

Shining sadly had to tell Mac that not only had his words failed to reach his sister, she was so offended by him trying to control her, that she invited Blueballs to join her and Cadance. With that, the quest ended in victory for the party, but in utter defeat of Mac.

And by the time the party was leaving the tower, and began the journey back to their keep, one more newcomer approached their table.

“Can Ah play with y’all too?” Apple Bloom asked with the widest eyes, and the sweetest little smile.

“Oh, of course you can!” Cadance said, almost squealing at the sight of the precious filly. After that first interaction, Cadance glommed onto Apple Bloom, answering each and any of the questions spewed at the alicorn.

Once the game ended, there came the time for lunch, to be followed by playing in the gardens as per Flash and Timber’s joint request.

They would soon be joined by the little filly, but in the interim, the hour after lunch was meant to be Apple Bloom’s naptime, and Cadance, who was alternately sharing care duties with Apple Bloom’s brother and sister or relieving them of it so they could enjoy more free time, proved especially skilled at putting her down for sleep.

Between the socializing, and being sequestered from her books, Twilight would be in agony until the clock finally struck two, when it was finally Twilight’s turn to decide what her group was doing. There was only one place she wanted to go. The Archives. Before she left, Celestia had given her near-unlimited access to the Archives.

Although Twilight chose where it was they went, the two colts accompanying her were given free reign to read their own articles.

Timber typically defaulted towards more cultural records, wondering what type of food they ate and how they made it, or looking up legends that came accompanied with cool pictures, and even the games that would typically be played in the olden days. Twilight had to admit that, privately, she was impressed by his selection, but she preferred the notes of Star Swirl the Bearded and his many, many spells that she was actually allowed to read.

Unfortunately, there was one impassable obstacle that kept her from reaching the more advanced spells. A sign that read;

No Foals Allowed Beyond This Point (That Includes You, Twilight Sparkle)

~ Love, Princess Celestia

It was her one weakness. Rules.

Flash was interested in historical documents pertaining to a pegasus. His namesake, to be exact. Flash Magnus. The little colt quickly got Twilight to explain the sorting system that the archives used, and dashed off once he had the information he needed. When he was unable to grasp the workings, however, he had Twilight take him to the correct section. There he found the last journal Flash Magnus had ever written before he vanished.

In the meantime, Twilight, despite getting hampered by the forbiddance sign, had found herself other books she could pour over. Primarily spellbooks, of course. Sat at a reading table, she was leafing through the pages for about half an hour, until one particular page caught her eye.

“The Facial Hair Charm,” Twilight read aloud. “Gives a stallion magnificent facial hair.”

It was a very tempting spell, one that had the Starswirl Seal of Approval. It didn’t require a large area like some, or a practice dummy in case things went wrong during casting. The only question was who to try it on? Flash was reading historical documents, while Timber was focusing on Maps and other nations. Timber had better grades than Flash this year, so it stood to reason that he could be her guinea pig. Flash needed time to study after the horrendous grade he’d got on his End of Year Test.

“Timber,” said Twilight, walking over to the colt showing him the spell scroll, “can I try something on you?”

The colt looked up. “What is it?”

“It’s a facial hair spell. It specifies that I need a colt.”

“Get Flash! Last time you cast a spell on me, I was suspended in the air for an hour and the Princess had to get me down!”

“He’s studying! Just stand still.”

As Twilight readied the spell, Flash’s voice carried from across the archives. “Hey, Twilight, do you know who Prince Solaris was?”

“Celestia’s dad!” she shouted back.

This was something Twilight had learned at her local library, and something Flash should have learned in History. While both provided general information, Celestia had told her more personal stories. Once Equestria had been formed, someone had needed to take charge after Gusty the Great’s departure. That pony was Princess Nebula, an alicorn who led a moderately-sized village which Gorgar had been unable to conquer, likely because she herself had stood in his way alongside many other unicorns. Her reign lasted a few decades, before finally passing on her title to her son, Solaris, and returning to her village.

Solaris’ reign lasted centuries. He was a good monarch and according to Celestia, an even better father. He solved most issues diplomatically, despite building up one of the most powerful nations in the world. ‘Never only rely on words,’ he would say. It was he that called upon Starswirl the Bearded to teach Celestia when she was a filly, and he who’d taught her to move the sun and moon.

When Twilight had asked Celestia if he was also super amazing at magic, she’d smiled blissfully and told her there was no one better. He also had a very thick beard that tickled Celestia’s cheeks whenever he kissed her goodnight.

“Celestia has a dad?” Flash asked. “I thought she hatched out of the sun or something.”

“Why does everyone think that the princess– All ponies have a mom and dad, Flash! It’s basic biology! Hey, I said stand still, Timber! I need practice!” Twilight’s horn lit up and Timber was pulled by his tail towards her.

“I still don’t get what’s in it for me,” Timber grumbled.

“If I do it right, you should have a cool mustache, that’s what’s in it for you.”

“I guess, I can name better stuff. We’re having cookies after dinner tonight.”

Twilight’s face fell flat. She liked cookies, but she also liked practicing magic. “Half my cookies, and I get to practice this spell on you, and another one.”

“Deal,” Timber affirmed.

“Twilight, I won’t get kidnapped for knowing Celestia has a dad, will I?” Flash asked nervously.

“This is something you can learn at the library!” Twilight shouted in frustration.

“It was also on our last history test,” Timber added.

“Yeah, but history sucks!” Flash groaned, finally joining his friends. He plopped down the journal that he’d been reading. “This is actually cool. Did you know there was a dragon war? Flash Magnus and a bunch of ponies were trapped in the Dragon Kingdom–”

“By Equestrian standards, that wasn’t war,” Twilight interrupted. “Prince Solaris never declared war on the dragons, nor did he even know what was happening until after it was over. What happened would be better defined as an incursion.”

“Whatever! Flash Magnus fought these dragons with super strong scales while unicorns took down these huge towering dragons and–”

“He fought Mystic-Scaled Dragons,” Twilight said. “Said to be the most dangerous dragons in the world. Most of them were wiped out in the incursion, and not without reason. Not only were they the greatest obstacle to the legion returning home, they were brutal on the battlefield. Some even ate ponies whether they were alive or dead. Few were named, but those that were had a significant body count.”

“Mystic-Scaled Dragons?” Flash repeated. “That’s not what the books called them.”

“Well, it’s more of a colloquialism,” Twilight hurriedly explained. “Most accounts note that they called themselves Iron-Scaled, but many unicorns during that time saw that they had high magic resistance, some even theorized that they were immune to magic altogether. So later documents gave them a new name to denote that fact. Considering that dragons can’t do magic, I don’t think the dragons even know about their own resistance.”

“Well did you know that their one weakness is–”

“Mithril, a metal found only in the Dragonlands, or with dragons,” Twilight cut across him, barely pausing to take a deep breath, as she felt herself enter lecture mode. “Non-reactive, and stronger than any metal in the world, including any alloys not containing mithril itself. Due to its rarity and multiple useful properties, it’s extremely expensive and in very high demand by many industries. The crown typically uses it for military applications, though ponies use it to hedge against inflation, if not to flaunt their wealth by wearing it as jewelry. It can also be used as a magical conduit to enhance spell casting as well. This was discovered near the end of the incursion, and something that was made illegal to civilians unless permitted by the Crown. Of course, the difficulty in making these charms and the high price point means that typically only the wealthy or talented have access to them.”

Flash’s eyes might have glazed over somewhere in the middle of her speech, even though he’d listened with rapt attention when her brother explained the rules of Ogres & Oubliettes. Yet he came back to life in time to seize upon one detail she’d mentioned.

“Hey,” Flash interjected, “my brother knows lots of unicorns with spell power-up rings.”

“Nothing we make on our own can come close to what mithril can do to a spell,” Twilight explained. “It can turn a simple stun spell into something incredibly lethal. Many scholars can only imagine what a lethal spell would become when using it against non-dragons.”

Flash frowned at her. “When did we go over this in school? I would have paid attention if we did.”

“It’s not taught in school, I learned it from Princess Celestia, and she never liked talking about it,” Twilight told him quietly. “She said it was one of the biggest… fudge-ups in all of history. She still doesn’t know which side bleeped-up more. Apparently the incursion started because two ponies were dumb enough to touch a dragon’s hoard, not even steal anything, and the dragon nobles that owned it couldn’t let it go. It just spiraled from there.”

“Why are you saying fudge? Just say ‘fuck’. Who’s going to hear you?” Flash asked.

“I would hear you, and I do not like it when foals curse.”

A chill ran up Flash’s spine as he turned his head to see Cadance glaring down at him.

“Ah, fudge.”

Playing O&O may have taken the edge off Shining’s concerns, but Twilight wasn’t the only one of their family who rarely had Princess Celestia’s well-being far from their minds. After tabletop gaming, followed by lunch, had brought down the knot inside his gut, Shining was soon looking elsewhere to curb the nervousness he’d been concealing. Namely, a drink. But he’d also wanted someone to drink with.

Happily, there was someone available. Less happily, Shining’s afternoon was almost wrecked as a result. When the guards caught him and Mac sneaking a six-pack of cider, he felt convinced he’d be dragged through the training grounds and flogged while Mac got dragged into the dungeon.

Instead, the guards merely teased them for choice in drink. Even the Captain of the Guard, Steelwall, chided them gently.

“Don’t give me that look,” said the Captain. “We were stupid teenagers once upon a time. Just don’t make it a habit.”

One guard even promised to get them a can of beer each if they wanted it. They declined, and rushed back to the Apple stallion’s bedroom, a more private space than Shining’s spot in the barracks. The two of them had discovered they shared some very similar interests. HyperSpace HyperWars being one of them, along with a few trading card games. Besides their shared hobbies, they both loved their little sisters.

Unfortunately, they both also still saw the girls as the tiny foals that their parents had just brought home from the hospital. Tiny foals who needed to be protected from the harsh and dangerous world.

“What do you think of the Prince?” Mac asked as he looked out his window, seeing his sister taking a leisurely stroll with Blueblood, having just finished a golden apple. Mac felt irked at the sight.

“Me personally? Ponce. But relative to the other irritants in my life? He’s a mild annoyance at his worst. Helped me out on a date or two, and those were the dates Cadance liked more than usual. But then there are the snide remarks about my hobbies. From what I’ve seen with your sister though? He’s nice. Don’t think it really means anything, they get along because she’s not throwing herself at him. Blueblood is a stallion that routinely gets swarmed, but Cadance says he’s not really seen.”

“Like that makes sense,” Mac said as he took a sip of cider. “She doesn't seem to like me much.”

“When you insinuate her cousin is someone looking to force himself on your sister, yeah, you’re not going to be her best friend. Apple Bloom, though, she seems to l–”

“Don’t, Ah get jealous.”

“I get that, I get that. But consider it a blessing in disguise! There’s nowhere safer if–” Shining paused and looked down at his bottle. The news he’d heard came flooding back to him. “Mac, you do know why we’re all here, right?”

“Mah Granny told me after His Royal Pompousness came by and offered to house us for a few weeks,” Big Mac said, his voice grave and his face dark. “Damn lizards have everyone lookin’ over their shoulders. Granny couldn’t come, not with the harvest.”

“Is she working the farm alone?” Shining asked.

“Nah,” said Big Mac, shaking his head. “Some of mah Pa’s family came by ta help. Ah thought they’d set Granny straight, but they couldn't wait to send us off. Apple Bloom and Applejack are in the dark. Better that way.”

“Same with Twilight and her two stalkers,” Shining agreed. “So, knowing giant engines of fire and death could attack us at any moment, if you had to choose between me, you, and the alicorn princess who might be a demi-god, who would you want to have Apple Bloom be with?”

“Point taken. Wish Applejack could spend more time with her though, ‘stead of with the Prince.”

“Well, the guy is Celestia’s nephew. If the guards are protecting anyone, he’ll be near the top, so by extent, they’ll protect your sister too,” Shining pointed out. “Chin up. We can have a real guys night! No parents, no sisters, no girlfriends. Come on, I’ve got the latest expansion of HyperSpace HyperWars!”

Mac couldn’t resist playing after hearing that. For the first time in days, the stallions forgot their worries.

Elsewhere in the Palace, two other ponies weren’t as carefree as Shining and Big Mac had supposed.

Shortly after exiting the gardens, which had required much coaxing on his part for a calming stroll, Blueblood was dragging Apple Jewel by her tail, ignoring her thrashing and cursing as they traveled through the castle halls. The assorted staff and guards all seemed apathetic to the farmgirl’s plight, not because they were uninterested or uncaring, but rather because they heard her reservations and knew that she worried for naught.

“Ah don’t wanta meet any more snobby unicorns, Larry!” Apple Jewel cried out, scrabbling at the tiled floor with all her earthpony strength, which was leaving a mark.

The magic of Blueblood’s horn was equal to her raw horsepower, yet it was only narrowly winning out. Every step backwards he took to drag her along was a hard-earned victory, and only Blueblood’s natural impeccability kept him from showing visible perspiration.

“Apple… Jewel…” Blueblood huffed and wheezed. “Miss Sparkle may attend a very wealthy school, in a very wealthy city… Ungh. But trust me when I say she’s far from snobbish. She just won’t initiate conversation with anyone because she’s allergic to social situations…” He paused to catch his breath. “But you… My dearest Apple Jewel, you’ve rarely been one to shy away from talking to new ponies… Why start now?”

Still lying on the floor, Apple Jewel craned her neck around to face him.

“You never got made fun of fer an accent for a year an’ a half, Larry,” the farmgirl said with a glare. “And will ya stop calling me Apple Jewel? You know Ah hate that name. It’s too gaudy.”

“It’s why I use it,” Blueblood chortled. “Last I checked, I’m not too fond of your little pet name for me, so I refuse to use that dreadful nickname of yours.”

“Please, ‘Larry’ ain’t no pet name. It’s a nickname. Big difference.” Apple Jewel harrumphed, tapping both forehooves on the floor. “And if my Pa had his way, it would have been my name. Ma picked Apple Jewel cause she found out we’re nobles after Mac was born an’ named. Thought the daughter of a baron needed a name to go with their high status. Speaking of, what if Mac catches you literally draggin’ me by my tail? He’s just waiting fer an excuse to whoop ya, can’t imagine this will go over well.”

“True,” Blueblood conceded, his face all innocence, “but if he so much as lays a hoof on me, the guards will swarm him and throw him in the dungeon for a night. But ignoring that, I must ask one question, Apple Jewel. Do you trust me?”

“Course, why?”

“You trust me to not put you in a situation where you’ll be mocked, correct? And if I do, you can at least expect me to put an end to it before it goes past the first insult?”

“Yeah,” Apple Jewel nodded. “You did it a lot in school.”

“Then, you know it’s safe when I ask you to just try and engage Miss Sparkle. For me?”

“Ah’m going ta get you back for pulling this ‘for me’ nonsense!” Apple Jewel huffed. “But fine, Ah’ll give her a chance. The first insult Ah hear, Ah’m giving her a punch. Shoulda gave one to those hussies in Manehattan.”

“I would advise against punching her,” Blueblood said calmly. “My aunt’s protection aside, I assure you, the first crack she makes, my cousin will take care of it, if not me. And why hurt your beautiful hooves punching a pony? When you think of the Academy or any noble who considers you below them, know you're already getting the sweetest revenge there is.”

His aura vanished from Apple Jewel’s tail, allowing her to stand.

“While they will have their little cliques, which will be empty and meaningless, you will forever be friends with the illustrious, handsome, charismatic, brilliant and talented Prince Astron III Vladimir Blueblood!”

He bowed deeply to the farmgirl.

“You forgot to add humble,” she snarked.

“My dear, dear Apple Jewel, it wouldn’t be very humble to draw attention to it! And if not Celestia’s nephew, who else is as worthy to be in the presence of the breathtaking Apple Jewel?”

“Oh, this oughta be good.” Apple Jewel rolled her eyes, as Blueblood got down on a knee, and took her forehoof in his.

Typically when Blueblood went ‘Fairytale Prince & Romance Novel Casanova’, it was Blueblood-speak for, ‘I’m going to annoy you until you do what I want’.

“The literal tons of products countless trollops cake themselves with, cannot make them as beautiful as the filly I see before me. My heart yearns for your hoof in marriage, fair maiden.”

“Spare me,” Apple Jewel groaned. Marriage, how original.

And who was he calling filly? While she’d never asked him his age, Blueblood was only two or three years older than she. Despite him being a bulky colt, the age difference between them had to be smaller than between Twilight Sparkle and that big brother Royal Guard cadet of hers, let alone she and Big Mac.

Funnily enough, Blueblood had told her it was Princess Cadance who’d only recently got a growth spurt, even with her being an alicorn, when for a long time people had thought Cadance was younger than he because she was so short.

In any case, Apple Jewel could imagine the fillies that would have their knees buckle if they heard Prince Blueblood use the word ‘marriage’. Most of them turned to jelly from him just glancing at them. That was what made her so special. All she heard was ‘I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you!’ as Blueblood kept his forehoof a fraction of an inch away from her face.

“I shan’t, nor could I! Wit as sharp as their spears of old. Accent as pure and rare as a glistening diamond. Hair more golden than the finest crown my aunt has. Eyes as luminous and shimmering as an emerald, a coat as radiant as the setting sun-”

A spare forehoof quickly covered his mouth.

“If it shuts you up,” said Apple Jewel, “I will try to talk with the filly tomorrow, cos’ any insult she hurls at me will be less painful than you spewing that mushy garbage.”

“Thank you!” Blueblood joyously sang once her forehoof left his lips. “I didn’t mean a word of it! Well, except for the ah-ccent,” he added mischievously, conspiratorially. “Cross my heart. You really shouldn’t worry about the accent. You should’ve heard Candy’s accent when she first came to stay. Took her a while to shed that Oleandrite tinge when speaking Ponish.”

“Ah know you didn’t mean it,” Apple Jewel chuckled. “But thanks anyway.”

It was true, the eldest Apple daughter did not have much in the way of vanity, being a practical soul through-and-through, the very earthpony salt-of-the-land, which set her worlds apart from a Canterlot unicorn noble like Blueblood. Still, it was nice to get a compliment every once in a while.

Later in the evening, everyone gathered in the dining hall for the greatest of all meals. Pizza.

Apple Jewel was finding that her worries about socializing with Twilight had been pointless. The filly in question didn’t seem interested in conversing with her during dinner. Miss Sparkle was more intent on planning a wedding.

Like all things, it all started with Apple Bloom.

“You like that stallion over there a lot,” the tiny filly remarked to Princess Cadance, after swallowing the last of her stuffed crust, which according to her was the best kind of crust to ever be made. “Are you two getting married when ya’ll are older?”

If Shining Armor had been drinking something, he would have spat it out right then and there.

“We-It’s a bit early to talk about that, don’t you think, Cadance?”

“Oh, hush, it’s never too early, dear! Maybe someday, Apple Bloom,” Cadance told the filly. She turned to give Shining a sly wink, while slightly sticking her tongue out.

“When you two do get married, can Ah be the flower filly? Please?”

Apple Bloom gave the alicorn that adorable look again, earning another squee.

“Of course you can!” said Cadance. “And I’ll make sure you have the cutest little dress to wear! Shining, won’t she be adorable?”

“S-sure,” he said, horrified. Mac simply chuckled at Shining’s misfortune. It must have been horrible thinking about marrying someone as beautiful, kind and powerful as Cadance. His heart truly bled for his new friend.

“Could I plan it?” Twilight asked.

“Twily–”

“Of course, Twilight!” Cadance said brightly.

“Great!” Twilight beamed. “I’m already half-way done!”

The filly made a large binder appear with several files and pictures shoved in it. She began detailing the perfect wedding, sighting statistics and Cadance’s personal tastes as well as a bachelor party for Shining.

“Larry, I tried my best, but I don’t think I can get a word in with that filly yapping like she is,” Apple Jewel whispered to Blueblood.

“Miss Sparkle gets like that at times. This is what we affectionately call lecture mode. By the intensity she is tackling the subject, she’s likely been planning the wedding for months. You should have seen her when my aunt insisted her nose was called a boop-button.”

Apple Jewel’s own nose twitched. She remembered when her Pa would poke her boop-button, annoying her greatly.

“Say, what’s the story between the Princess and that there unicorn hunk, anyway?”

“Oh, Shining Armor? Well, you see, Apple Jewel, Cadance lacked a base amount of standards when choosing a partner to share a dalliance with, so she got something of a colt in a stallion’s body. I won’t judge if a hobby involves that dice game, but between that, the toys, and the trading cards, what’s next? And now It’s snowballed to poor sweet Apple Bloom thinking they’re meant to be, with poor Miss Sparkle planning a wedding! My cousin can do so much better.”

“Really,” Apple Jewel said with her eyebrow raised and hooves crossing. “Mister Bigshot too good for the common ponies now? An’ what’s your excuse for spending time with me? No standards either? Makin’ fun of this Southerner’s dulcet tones behind her back, or maybe you want to see what it’s like ta kiss a farmer fore’ braggin’ to yer entourage?”

“I would recall my speech in the halls before asking such questions, my lovely Apple Jewel,” Blueblood playfully warned. He picked up her hoof and gave it a quick, gentle kiss when Mac had his head turned. Apple Jewel pretended to gag. “But, joking aside, you are a hardworking, tenacious young mare that understands these things called boundaries, and treats me like I exist. You don’t try to club me over the head and drag me to the nearest altar. You don’t see me like some giant diamond ring, or a way to fulfill your dreams. I am your friend, and I treasure that. Besides, your snacks are to die for.”

Apple Jewel let out a playful gasp. “Your Highness, you’d stoop to letting your fancy royal lips touch common carnival fare?”

“Your common carnival fare? I would never refuse it.”

“Really now? Upper Crust manages you to snag ya for an outin’,” Apple Jewel countered. “Ah give you a fritter during that date. What do you do after the first bite?”

“Why must you pose such awful scenarios, Apple Jewel? They hurt me so.” Blueblood put his hooves on his heart, whimpering. “Regrettably, I wouldn’t be able to stomach it, and after making the grandest show denouncing it, the refuse I eject from my maw would no doubt find its way onto her.”

“Really? You wouldn’t eat it? Not even for me?” she whispered, frowning and giving the Prince puppy-dog eyes.

“On an outing with Upper Crust? Never. Your cooking is too good for something as nightmarish as that. Besides, I believe the insult she employed was ‘Interloping Yokel Skank’. And I, for one, can name worse things that she deserves.”

Apple Jewel smiled. “Yer a pal, Larry.”

As the evening came to a close, Cadance took a stroll through the gardens, her customary activity to greet the night at Canterlot Palace. While she may have traversed these gardens several times today, the refreshment it brought to her senses never failed. The hour of moonrise, specifically, was her personal magic hour. And these being Palace gardens, there never lacked for space to visit which had gone unseen in a long, long while, some favorite corner where she could allow the night air to caress her feathers, upon wings which had first taken flight when she learned her destiny lay in Equestria.

Cadance had no preference as to whether she liked to wander the garden path alone or in company. Nevertheless, she’d stated that a last stroll was healthy before bedtime, not least after feasting on such a heavy meal as pizza. She wasn’t too greatly surprised that Flash and Timber had disregarded her advice to retreat into the bedroom they shared, no doubt to pursue illicit night-time activity when they should really be in bed already.

The two girls amongst the foals had proven more sensible than the boys. Cadance was accompanied by Twilight, whose muzzle was buried in a book, and Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom remained respectfully quiet for an unusual amount of time, perhaps feeling tired, but a new question eventually passed her lips.

“Ah saw you washing Flash’s mouth out with soap. Did he use a bad word?”

“He did,” Cadance said, though she smiled. “I suppose that your grandmother does the same to Mac?”

“Yup, and my cousin, Braeburn, and a whole lot of other stallions in the family. Do you have a family that’s big?”

Innocent as the question was, Cadance felt her smile weaken. “Not really… Just my Aunt Celestia and Blueblood.”

She hoped that in the moonlight, a wet gleam didn’t show in her eyes.

“Wait,” said Apple Bloom, tilting her head. “Shouldn’t you be Celestia’s daughter? You’re an alicorn.”

“Well, actually I started out as a pegasus,” Cadance said quietly. “I was raised in an earthpony village, over in the far-off country of Oleander, before earning my horn and coming to Canterlot.”

“You became an alicorn? Do you think Ah could be an alicorn?” Apple Bloom asked, excitement raising in her voice.

Cadance loved the look of admiration the little filly gave her. Her bout of sadness was passing. “It is possible, certainly. But it’s very, very rare. Besides, I don't see why you'd want to,” she noted, her heart filled with sincerity. “If you ask me, I think earth ponies are the greatest.”

“How did you become an alicorn anyway?”

“Magic,” Cadance said with a wink.

She could share that story another time. The story of childhood that culminated in the fateful day she’d earned a horn, fully-fledged wings and her cutie mark.

However, Twilight slammed her book shut. At least, she wanted to, but was too frightened that she might actually damage it. No book deserved to be damaged.

“Apple Bloom,” exclaimed Twilight. “If you want I can tell you how she became an alicorn, it’s actually really cool! There was a sorceress and everything!”

Apple Bloom’s eyes went wide and she gravitated towards Twilight. Cadance was about to speak up, but then stopped. Twilight was willing to socialize with a filly. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was better to let them have their little story.

There was a stone bench nearby. Cadance indicated they could all sit down, the time it would take.

“Alright,” Cadance smiled easily, patting the bench to show they could scoot closer to her. “But get too many details wrong and I will take over. And Apple Bloom, sweetie, you’ve got to promise, no questions until after the story is over. Deal?”

Huddled up on either side of her, the fillies agreed without hesitation.

“Okay.” Twilight cleared her throat, readying herself to deliver what was kind of a lecture, and yet completely different from a lecture at the same time. Rather like those storybooks Cadance or her mother would read to her, countless copies of which she’d seen stored in Celestia’s private library. “It all began in a little village called Florentina, which some call the Village of Flowers…”

Once back in her bedroom, having told her own bedtime story, Twilight Sparkle still had someone left in her circle to attend to.

“Good night, Star,” Twilight said, turning off her pogona lizard's lamp as she dropped the fattest, juiciest, hornworm into his case.

The lizard let out a joyful noise towards Twilight before devouring his treat.

At the doorway, Shining was keeping watch over her.

“You know, Twily,” her big brother grinned, “I’m proud of you. You really engaged with Apple Bloom tonight. I didn’t like the subject matter, but you were thorough. Horrifyingly thorough.”

“It wasn't that big of a deal,” Twilight shrugged as she climbed into the bed, snuggled against her brother when he came to lie atop the bedsheets. “Shiney, if you told the Princess, do you think she’d be happy?”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled,” Shining replied, tickling her ear. “I’m sure she would.”

“And the fact I’m playing with Flash and Timber? Like, really playing with them and not sneaking off to the library?”

“Yeah, I guess. Can I ask why you’re so worried?”

Twilight gazed up at him, with big eyes. “The last time she went to take care of Princess Business she was really sad, and got sadder for a whole week. I don’t want her to be sad again.”

Shining kept his heart close to his chest, so to speak, not wanting Twilight to hear it beating. He knew why Princess Celestia had gone on ‘princess business’. Or, as he preferred to call it, ensuring no dragons were about to raze the country to the ground.

A fat lot of good that did them, all things considered. While Cadance was a kind, easy-going and beautiful mare, she was also a gossip. If there was one mare he would never trust a secret to, it was the love of his life. He didn’t know what Princess Celestia was going to do with the dragons, but he prayed that it kept them far away from Equestria.

“There’s not a lot you can tell you, Twily,” Shining told his baby sister. “I can tell you that I’m sure she’d tell you to let her worry about her princess business, and for you to just be a little filly. If she does need cheering up, I’m sure a hug from you wouldn’t hurt one bit.”

Twilight would be sure to give her one.

Author's Note

A bit of a breather chapter that I think all of us could use. Special thanks to my editor VoxAdam for as siting in fleshing out a few bits of information with Cadance.

Chapter 27: Aftermath

Spike had never liked the Dragon Lord, nor Ember for that matter, even before he found out she was a Princess; both of them acted mean to his big brother, and thus were worthy of his ire. The feeling ran deep enough that when Lady Blaze, a dragon Spike thought of as nice and pretty, had shown up the previous evening with Ember in tow and with terrible news about Torch, he’d felt tempted to say Ember’s father deserved it for punishing Garble after his brother had stuck up for Ember. Spike opted not to, because of how distressed Blaze had looked when talking to his mother.

So, instead, he’d settled for waiting until his mother would take Ember to see Torch the next day. The Dragon Lord was being tended to by Grandma Topaz, of course, and his mother would have to bring them. His Father was asked to assist Blaze during her reign as Dragon Lord, acting as the power behind her temporary throne. Spike was sure Grandma Topaz likely wouldn’t reprimand him if he gave the Dragon Lord a piece of his mind. She had quite the sharp tongue herself, at least where Torch was involved, though never for her grandchildren.

However, when the time came, upon seeing the Dragon Lord all bandaged and bloodied, Spike felt struck mute and couldn’t have spoken a word if his life depended on it. There was something wrong about seeing Torch like this. Spike thought him a jerk, but he was the Dragon Lord, he always thought that Torch being injured was like he himself scraping his knee, meaningless, something to walk off after someone gave comfort. Torch seemed small for the first time ever.

Seeing Ember clinging to her father’s knee reminded Spike too much of Smolder and their own father when he’d been slashed. Smolder had remained at their father’s side after he’d got injured, weeping and begging for him to get better. Just like then, Grandma Topaz had done all she could, wrapping enormous bandages around the injured dragon’s exposed hide. Spike’s thoughts turned to his own scars. He could only cover his injuries, feeling a slight phantom pain. He heard a low sound arise from the prone mass of Torch.

“What’s happening?” mumbled the Dragon Lord, in barely a whisper. “Where’s your mother?”

His daughter answered him. “Mom’s the Dragon Lord, until you get better,” Ember sniffled, bringing her head to rest against Torch’s snout. “She’s ordered Garble’s dad and another dragon to help her keep the jerks in line.”

“Thank goodness,” Torch muttered, letting out a small sigh of relief.

The mantle of Dragon Lord was unforgiving. Brilliant as Blaze was, as much as she could wrap him around her finger, she was still so small compared to other dragons, and physically lacking as well. If she didn’t have guards to enforce her authority, she might get hurt if a dragon felt belligerent or angry enough. Having a dragon like Flare or any Ironscale at her side would be a boon beyond measure.

Torch’s gaze met Ember’s. “Who’s watching you?” When Ember pointed out Amber, he said, “I see.”

His eye drifted to Garble, then to Smolder, and finally Spike, who looked as if he’d just managed to resist the urge to stick his tongue out. If Torch was honest with himself, the feeling was mutual. He still remembered that day Amber had brought the newly-hatched whelp to his cave, then dared chide him for mishandling a crying child. Despite how he could see the value in the Ironscale as allies, he wished he could count on more of them individually than Flare to show him deference. Did Blaze not have just one other friend whom she could call on? Preferably one without a son around their daughter’s age?

But Torch pushed his reservations to the back of his head. “You’re being good?” he asked Ember. She nodded quietly. “Good. Good.”

Torch lightly bobbed his head, before letting his eyes close. Soon, snoring filled the cave.

“He needs his rest now,” Topaz told the others, using her claw to push Ember away from her father and towards the mouth of the cave. “It’s best to run along now.”

The old dragon’s advice was not immediately heeded. Ember ran back past the older dragon and hugged her father’s muzzle one last time, after which she did follow Spike’s family outside the cave.

Standing with the children gathered around her, looking out upon an unusually drab and gray morning for the Dragonlands, Amber brought her wings to shelter the five of them, and did her best to sound comforting, particularly where Ember was concerned.

“No need to worry, dear,” Amber assured the little princess. “My grandmother will make sure your father makes a quick recovery. In the meantime, is there anything you'd like to do today?”

Rather than reply directly, Ember whispered something to Smolder, who then whispered it to Amber, much to the annoyance of Spike and Garble.

“Ah, your mother told me about that,” Amber said, nodding at Ember. “Well. Come now, everyone, we’re going to stop by and visit Uncle Smog. You have fun with him, Spike, Garble.”

“Wait, where are we going?” Spike asked in confusion.

“The girls and I are going someplace secret,” Amber told him, certain she’d successfully hidden her grin. “You and Garble, on the other hand, are going to stay with Uncle Smog for the day.”

Ember dried her eyes and managed a smirk.

“Girls only!” she said, sticking her tongue out at the two.

For Spike, this was the ultimate betrayal, one that he would never forget, until the next day. But for Garble, fair was fair. There were countless times Spike and he had their boy games, so where was the harm in Ember and the other girls doing the same?

As for Smolder, revenge never tasted so sweet.

There was no worse-kept secret in the land than that of the Lord Consort's Hot Springs.

The Springs were a secluded group of pools warmed by underground magma, surrounded by flora and fauna, and a healthy wing-span away from the typical crags and volcanoes of dragon territory. Here further South, where the expanse of the Celestial Sea was widest between the Dragonlands and the Great Continent, the area may have been light on dragon population, but it was also low on dangers coming from across the sea. Upon the closest opposite shore, many miles away, lay only the Bone Dry Desert, a contrast to the lushness on offer here.

It made Amber feel a bit rebellious to visit the springs, moreso as she watched Smolder splashing about in the water with Ember. She’d found it humorous to see the smug look on their little faces when she had dropped off Spike and Garble at Smog’s. She hoped it might teach Spike a lesson about leaving people out of games.

“Watch this, Ember! Watch me!”

Still, Amber never stopped being vigilant, making sure she could see the girls at all times. At that particular moment, Smolder looked as if she was showing off, taking a dive from the highest rock she could find and straight into the deep end. She landed with a colossal splash that soaked a giggling Ember.

Seeing Ember so unusually carefree, Amber smiled, thinking there must be a magic to the whole thing.

This place was supposed to be a refuge for Consorts, typically females, to relax with their little hatchlings. However, some Dragon Lords were young and flirtatious, and brought many prospective mates to the springs. As such, what had started out as a private retreat was soon public knowledge. Every dragon knew about these springs. But their sense of honor and tradition kept it reserved for the Lord Consort’s usage, and the Dragon Lord’s.

Flower petals and wild berries littered the pools, allowing steam to give off a sweet-smelling scent that tickled the bathing dragons’ noses. Amber reckoned that the same smell also explained why Garble thought Ember smelled so nice all the time, which was precisely what kept giving her away when she tried to sneak up on him. Blaze likely took her here to bathe every so often.

Even while she kept an eye out for Ember and Smolder, Amber gave a wry little chuckle as she let the warm water lap her scales. At not even ten years of age, her eldest son may already be fearless in a fight, but if Garble had one weakness, it was water. He certainly wouldn’t have looked jealous if he’d known where she was going. She could not picture him getting enjoyment out of a bath like the two girls were; even rainfall, rare though it was in the Dragonlands, would send him scurrying for cover.

Frankly, Smolder wasn’t always easy around water either. But watching her with Ember, if Amber had to make a guess, her daughter was having too much fun with a friend to care. Spike was the only one of her children who never made a fuss.

Soon their games ended, and both looked tired yet happy. After a quick blast of fire from Blaze, the two were again dry and warm.

The rest of the day came and went, and night fell upon the land.

Back at the Ironscales’ home, Spike’s head was resting against Smolder’s body, even though he’d disowned her as his sister not two hours ago. Not that anyone had thought much of the declaration. They all understood it was typical of three-year-olds to over-dramatize the smallest infraction. However, Spike was struggling to find sleep. He was the only one still lying awake, when his whole family, and Ember, had long ago shuffled off to the land of nod.

But Spike had sensed something in the air lately. Small hints, scattered at first. Yet time went on, and the nagging feeling in his brain just kept growing, and growing.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint when it had started. Every dragon, grown-up or whelp, knew what had happened with the Steelspines’ egg. A great crime, committed by ponies. You couldn’t simply walk away from a loss like that. His grandfather had once mourned a loss similar. How the great Coal Ironscale had been felled in his prime, and how those dragons closest to him had lamented long and hard; until, with the passage of time, their hearts began to heal, and they moved on, though they never forgot.

What filled Spike with unease was that nobody seemed to be moving on from the accursed raid. His father, although his injuries were patched up and healed, had been away from home a lot more since that day the criminals were handed over to Lord Torch. While Flare had promised the Dragon Lord wouldn’t be asking him to do anything dangerous, this wasn’t exactly true. Obviously, now that Ember’s mom was Dragon Lord, she’d want only the best dragons for her guards. Ironscales, though few in numbers, had one of the best defenses in the world, it would be foolish to procure one as a guard.

And Uncle Smog had done his best to keep up a cheery outlook when Garble and Spike spent time with him, but Spike knew his uncle well enough to spot the little tells. There were things going on, which the grown-ups in their family didn’t want the kids knowing about.

Then there was Ember. Although the games she played with Smolder helped her mood, anyone that looked at her could tell she was putting on a brave face. How else was she supposed to feel? Garble tried to have Spike imagine what it would be like, if it had been him being left with another clan, with his family hurt and overworked. He’d be miserable.

There was not much he could do, though. Ember was a stubborn girl, after all. To her, and perhaps all young dragons, death was preferable to accepting help of any sort. However she didn’t seem to mind Garble’s company at night. Nor Smolder’s. Nor Spike’s.

The only one that seemed to be able to handle everything well enough was Garble. He wished he could be more like his older brother. Nothing ever scared him, least of all with his special knife. And Ember and Smolder, so far as he could tell, had gone on a relaxing day out with his mother. He still felt a bit jealous about that, yet they would be alright. Perhaps it was one of those things he had to let grown ups handle. It was an annoying sentence that all children his age had to hear. He could take solace in one thing though, his brother could handle it. In fact, his brother could handle anything, never wavering. For the most part.

He looked towards his brother, and his cheeks inflated due to sheer annoyance. He was with Ember, their spines lay flat against their backs, their backs were against each other. Worse, their tails were entangled. That wasn’t anything too alarming, they were tail wrestling before bed so it was to be expected. He shifted uncomfortably, and for a brief moment, Spike wondered if Ember was stealing away his siblings, but that thought quickly faded. They were still there for him. Ember just needed them more at the moment.

Celestia first heard a beep. Then another. And then the third, at which time she finally was stirred from her slumber. Her dreams were ripped away from her as she opened her eyes to a blinding light. But this was no light like the comforting warmth of her Sun; nor an ethereal shimmer such as the mystic plane where she’d once encountered Mi Amore Cadenza, years ago now, a little flightless pegasus who’d unlocked the door to alicornhood.

This light was cold, harsh, electronic. And today Celestia was the one who felt so vulnerable, so painfully mortal in her marrow, as Cadance had on that night.

‘Equestria?’ she thought to herself.

A pony saw her moving, and the clamoring began. She looked to her left, to find she was surrounded by ponies wearing white coats and scrubs.

What happened next was something of a blur. But soon she had the room to herself, a hearty slice of cake before her, along with a large sandwich, and a sports drink.

Celestia seemed to inhale her meal. She didn’t know the name of her drink, nor the taster, but the word ‘blue’ made the most sense to her. As for the sandwich, it had been made with all her favorite add-ons, of beetroot, lettuce and tomato. And finally, the cake was so light, fluffy, and moist. It must have been made in the last hour or so. Definitely a higher caliber than the usual hospital food. She suspected an import must have got specially ordered in from the Palace.

Blade Sentry could have told her, for he was the first face she recognised from the mass which had crowded her upon her awakening, the only one to remain after all others were shooed from the room, their jobs as physicians and trauma surgeons done for now. But this was a rare time in which Princess Celestia could do nothing except focus on what was right in front of her, and was driven to attend to her immediate physical needs. The Guard waited patiently as she sated herself.

It did not surprise Blade that the Princess was so hungry. Ravenous, even.

Magic exhaustion took a toll on the victim’s body. To pass out for a few days was the fate of a lucky pony. A spell cast was not a process that could be halted. When the spell required too much energy, the caster would start consuming their own body, starting by converting non-essentials such as body fat and even excess muscle into mana, which would keep going until the spell was cast successfully – or a vital was hit. The only course of action for someone as lucky as Celestia was to rest and eat, and avoid casting spells for a couple of weeks. The more unfortunate souls had months or years of recovery to undergo.

“Where are we?” Celestia asked, once she had drunk the last of her drink. “How long has it been?”

“Canterlot, ma’am,” said Blade. “Royal Hospital. You’ve been asleep for a few days.”

“What happened after I passed out?”

“We carried you to Griffonstone,” Blade sighed.

Despite the stoic mask he wore, Celestia could sense how much tribulation her Guards must have gone through, just getting her out of the Dragonlands. While Griffonstone was a shorter trek away than crossing the Celestial Sea, they would still have needed to transport her over a body of water. In fact, if memory wasn’t playing tricks on her, she’d been falling towards the sea when she’d blacked out.

“Once there, we managed to flag a sky-boat. Stopped by the first hospital we could reach, in the Griffish Isles. Then we got an airship to circle back to Manehattan, and from there, back here.”

That made sense. Although they had supplies in case of an emergency, field medics could do only a fraction of what a fully-staffed medical facility could. And even in the Guard, not many truly expected they’d need to heal their Alicorn Princess.

“How much do we owe the griffons for their kindness?” Celestia asked, aware that everything in Griffonstone came with a price tag attached. ‘We need an airship, now,’ had to be like telling a griffon ‘here’s a blank cheque’.

“It’s in the thousands,” Blade said wearily. “Besides which, we had to have the guy pick you up outside of town to keep anyone from trying any funny business.” He chuckled some, plainly recalling the reactions when they’d announced they needed a ship. “What was funny was watching every captain on the port scramble to undercut their competitors’ prices.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Celestia murmured. “And the dragons?”

“A few stopped by Fillydelphia with a chest full of gold,” Blade explained. “That’s as far as we were going to let them into the country. They didn’t get the warmest of welcomes, but Prince Blueblood’s already been to talk with them. The Dragon Lord wishes to call a truce. I’m paraphrasing, but the gist is, we let bygones and bygones, and just go back to ignoring each other. If there is an altercation, the criminals will face justice in the invaded kingdom.”

Which was a grim reflection of what had happened to the would-be dragon slayers, with the exception of Air Break. Or to the murderous dragons who’d razed Squires Gate. Celestia felt her eyes close, the eyelids gone heavy. The dragons could mete out their brand of justice however they pleased, but she had no taste for capital punishment. Yet in the heat of the moment, there’d been no recourse other than to enact a swift and immediate execution for no less than three marauding dragons.

One of whom upon she’d brought down the ax herself.

“Wait. The Dragon Lord,” Celestia said, frowning. “The envoys, did they mention Torch’s condition? Last I saw him, he’d sustained a quite terrible wound, inflicted by one of his own.”

Blade coughed. “Well, no,” he said, “not exactly. Dragons, they’ve got their pride, you know? But if I understand what Prince Blueblood reported, Lord Torch still lives. The mantle of rulership has passed to the Lord Consort while he is convalescent.”

“I see. That’s a relief,” Celestia said. “And the envoys, where are they now?”

“Gone back,” Blade said simply, pulling out a scroll. “His Highness was able to catch a few names, if it helps,” he added, lightly unfurling the scroll to read. “Razor Windwing, Gladius, Golem, that sort of thing. A gesture of good faith, they said, in accordance with the truce’s terms. Ponies stay out of the Dragonlands, dragons stay out of Equestria.”

Mutual isolationism was not a perfect solution, but it was the best that could be done, in light of everything. Celestia wondered how Topaz Goldwing and the citizens of Squires Gate would fare, robbed of the tidy trade arrangement they’d lived on for centuries. Then again, what the government didn’t know about any visits wasn’t going to hurt them. There was still the promise to Smog she made after all to consider.

And despite the pledge, other, newer problems were bound to arise, further down the line. Somehow, she felt doubtful the dragons would detour their Great Migration, which would be a great inconvenience. Or that the Dragon Lord could account for every wandering dragon who nested in Equestria. Ponies did have short memories, perhaps when the time came, everyone would be over it.

“I can live with that,” Celestia said, asking herself how true that was. “Does anyone know about me?”

“We tried to contain the news until we made it back to Canterlot, Your Highness,” Blade said, “but I fear every stallion has his price. Someone leaked information. We guess that it was either a hospital staffer, or some griffon on the sky-boat. The papers say you’ve come down with magic exhaustion, but leave out why. That’s because we never told anyone. Not that it’s stopped the rumors from flying.”

Her heart seized before going into overdrive. This was the best news she’d heard all day. If her people were still in the dark, she could control the narrative, smooth things over.

“Get me my niece and nephew,” Celestia told him. It was an order, not a request. “Now.”

Blade obeyed her on the dot. Within the hour, both Prince Blueblood and Princess Cadance were standing before Celestia. To say the two were looking fatigued would be an understatement. Bags were clearly visible under Cadance’s eyes, and she moved like one experiencing a malaise.

“Cadance,” Celestia said softly. “You have been moving the Sun and Moon in my stead?”

“I have,” Cadance replied, her voice weak, before letting out a donkey’s yawn. “Oh, Auntie, how long have you been doing this on your own?”

“It’s a necessity.” There was no way Celestia could sugar-coat the duty. She’d been forced to adapt, as Cadance was forced to for the last few days. “And Blueblood, how about Court?”

“I’ve been managing day-to-day operations,” Blueblood said wearily, rubbing his eyes. “If anything, it’s Kibitz who deserves a raise for his assistance.”

“I’ll see that he gets one,” Celestia nodded. “The chest with the dragons’ gold, where is it?”

“In the treasury,” said Blueblood. “I was adamant we wait for you to decide what to do with it.”

“Thank you.” Celestia looked at them both. “Cadance, have someone deliver the gold to Squires Gate. Make sure they are told it was given to us by a Dragon Lord seeking to make amends for the atrocity his committed by one of his subjects. Then, take a nap. You desperately need one. Blueblood, I need you to do a press release. Listen carefully, write it down if you need to. Near the end of my meeting with the Dragon Lord, there was an attempt on his life. I felled the assassin, but not before he grievously harmed the Dragon Lord. I healed the Dragon Lord’s injuries, draining myself in the process. When I moved the Sun and Moon later that day, I overexerted myself, and came down with magic exhaustion.”

Blueblood nodded in turn. There was likely something which Celestia was still leaving out, but he knew politics to be a dirty game. Sometimes, that meant skeletons in the closet. In rare instances, it was literal.

Equestria had treaties in place with less-than-savory nations, as well as their nobler brethren. Saddle Arabia, Griffonstone, Arcania, Those nations were better to be allied with than be made enemies of. He would find out the truth soon enough, and then proceed from there.

The two royal ponies bade goodbye, but Cadance paused at the door.

“Oh, Aunt Celestia, there’s someone else who’s been aching to see you.”

As if on cue, Twilight Sparkle dashed past the pink princess and into the room, and leapt on top of Celestia, hugging her tightly.

“I heard you were hurt, and I freaked out! Then, I was finally allowed to read the newspaper, and it turns out dragons attacked! Was that your Princess Business, fighting dragons?”

Momentarily, Celestia was too overcome to reply, focusing all her faculties on returning the hug, stroking Twilight’s back with one of her mighty, if currently weakened wings.

“No,” she said quietly. “No, Twilight. I went to talk to the dragons. They were very sorry for what those two did. At least, those I talked to were.”

“Then how did you pass out?” Twilight exclaimed. “You move the Sun and Moon like they’re nothing and it never seems to bother you!”

“Oh, there was an incident,” Celestia began to explain. “I had to use a very, very powerful spell. One that I haven’t tapped into for a long time.” She paused, letting the memory of the fiery mane and the glowing eyes wash over her, so terribly akin to the last time she’d seen her sister, on that unnaturally prolonged evening when she’d had to banish the Nightmare. “I endured it. But when I had to move the Sun and Moon, it was the drop that made the cup run over. Enough about me, though, Twilight. How was your break; did you do anything fun?”

“I played with Flash, and Timber, met a filly named Apple Bloom, and did you know Apple Jewel is real?”

“Yes, yes,” Celestia said, beginning to smile despite herself. “I’m the one who told you about her, remember?”

“But she tolerates Blueblood!” said Twilight. “And she’s got this accent that I thought he should hate, and he doesn’t make fun of her, not much anyway. Who can tolerate Blueblood? He’s Blueblood!”

“Many ponies, Twilight, me among them,” said Celestia, thinking fondly of her wayward, goofball nephew. “What else did you do? Spare no detail.”

Twilight eagerly began to regale her teacher about her stay in the Castle, delivering it just as she might have written a report for school.

Nothing that day could have made Celestia happier.

The day had grown late, and after the Royal Guard had finished dragging the last reporter out of the Palace, Prince Blueblood retreated to his bedroom, wishing that he had a stiff drink that his aunt sometimes nursed after a long day. After dipping his hooves into the waters of Canterlot politics, with a lifetime of these horseapples to look forward to, he could hardly blame her for having a personal stock. Other teenagers thought they had problems, that they carried the weight of the world. Peanuts, compared to being a royal pony, for whom this was actually true. He had nicked a small bottle of wine one time, Rosewine it was called. Blueblood took a sip, grimacing at the taste. It became clear that it was not for him.

The press release went about as well as it could. He could bet that the papers were running the presses at this very moment. Those muckrakers were too clever for their own good. Several had asked the same questions as he regarding Celestia. One had even pointed out that, although healing spells might take a lot out of an ordinary unicorn, the Princess moved the Sun and Moon on a daily basis, which would surely make this child’s play to her. The reporter was right, of course, but Blueblood had declared he was taking no further questions, adding that healing a dragon was not in the same vein as a pony, and left it at that.

He ran the scenarios through his head, trying to determine the spells that could drain her like that. Logically, there was only one conclusion. Daybreaker had made an appearance.

Alicorns were said to inherit traits of all pony tribes. Most would assume this meant the strength of an earth pony, the flight of a pegasus, and the magic of a unicorn. However, there was a fourth race, which brought with it a fourth trait – the shadow of Umbrum.

All alicorns had this trait. Celestia, his Aunt Luna, and even Cadance as well. No one knew exactly where the Umbrum came from. Some believed they were ponies who’d sold their souls and were punished to walk the earth as shadows. Other legends said the shadows were fallen Celestials, otherwise known as Angels, much like how alicorns were said to be from an angelic lineage.

Celestia had informed him otherwise. Alicorns were simply another brand of pony, just more powerful than the rest. No angelic lineage required. Outside of being born an alicorn, something unbelievably rare, there was only one way a pony could become an alicorn, transformation.

There was a wellspring of mana in all ponies that they normally couldn’t access. If they did, it triggered the alicorn transformation. Starswirl himself tried to achieve this for decades, but failed each time. From what Blueblood had been told, all a pony needed to do was find a way to channel that mana once in order to access it. It couldn’t be done by normal means using a standard conduit, it needed to be done by understanding an Aspect. Celestia did her best to try and explain it to him. An Aspect was an abstract concept in the world, like love. If a pony could understand it, embody that concept, and cast a single spell using the concept itself as a conduit, then the wellspring was unleashed. However, this also gave birth to what his aunt called the Umbral State. The Umbral State was Daybreaker, Nightmare Moon, and whatever lurked inside Cadance, waiting for just the right time to break loose. It was the Shadow of the Umbrum brought forth.

Blueblood had asked about the Umbral State, but Celestia herself wasn’t sure if it was another personality, a murky part of the wellspring that amplified someone's negative traits, or some other entity that possessed the alicorn. Whatever it was, it took a great deal of mana to push it down, and lock it away. His aunt said that when it first happened, the first time she’d unleashed Daybreaker and put her down, the Sun and Moon had ceased to move for two days, not until Arcanian mages had got involved and done it for her. If Daybreaker had come out again while confronting the dragons, it would explain her exhaustion.

He was the only one privy to this information outside of his royal Aunt. The reason this was the case was because he was descended from Princess Celetia’s brother-in-law on her late husband’s side – thus, he was family, and entitled to the knowledge. Some might think that this would drive him to a state of madness to attain that power, but the steps sounded so tiring and tedious. He would much rather have a political or legal career, a lovely wife to come home to, maybe three or four foals.

Cadance knew part of the truth. But so far, she believed Luna and the Umbral State to be legends Celestia was telling her to keep her on the straight and narrow. Yet according to his Auntie, legends often came with a name, an address, and a TBD on their return ticket to Equestria. Auntie’s infamous ex-boyfriend was still a lawn ornament, after all. However, that was something to ponder another time. For now, things were returning to normal.

He leaned against the door to his room and slid down to his haunches. “She’s okay, she’s okay,” he repeated to himself, a weight easing off his shoulders.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar rapping. Had it been anyone else, Blueblood would have turned them away, but he recognised the rhythmic secret pattern he’d developed with a certain pony. Special somepony, one might say.

Raising himself and opening the door, Blueblood was soon joined by the very pony he wished to see.

The hug was a surprise, but a welcome one. “Ah can’t imagine how ya must feel,” Apple Jewel said, resting her head on his shoulder. Something of a lie, but Blueblood didn’t need her turning his scare into a competition.

Blueblood’s head fell on top of hers. “At this point I’m relieved. Thanks for staying a bit longer than expected. Your presence has meant everything.”

“Shoot, no need to mention it!” That being said.

“It should though, I can only imagine your family needs you more than me,” Blueblood said, though in truth, he still felt sad to know he wouldn’t see her next year.

“Ya know, if ya ever need something to take the edge off, I can get you some good ol’ Apple Family Cider. Warms the stomach, twice the goodness, and none of the same bad habits as that stuff your aunt drinks.”

Blueblood smiled faintly. “That’s a good sales pitch, Miss Apple. I’ll consider it.”

“‘Sales pitch’?” Apple Jewel imitated him teasingly. “Ah’m saying this as a friend! We Apples treat our friends like our family, and family always sticks together.”

“For that, Applejack… I am thankful.”

“Shucks, ‘Applejack’? Who are you and what have you done with Prince Blueblood?”

“Your father has been slain.”

Slicer had known the moment he saw the Paladin that something had happened. He was expecting to hear the worst, but it did nothing to ease his shock. He only stood in the Sunwing family cave, stunned, staring at the Paladin kneeling before him.

He knew the Paladin was still talking to him, he could see his maw moving, but all he heard was static.

“Who?” he was finally able to ask.

“The Princess of the Ponies. I’m sorry, little one.”

Sorry. He’d heard that word so many times. First Onyx, then Gemstone, his mother, and now his father? They were all dead. What did anyone saying ‘sorry’ to him accomplish?

“Dragon Lord Blaze is making arrangements for him,” he heard the Paladin say to Scales’ mother. “Once her mate is healed, we will come to take him to his new lodgings.”

“Dragon Lord Blaze?” she asked.

Everyone knew that such a thing was possible, however, none had expected it to actually happen during their lifetime. What could have happened to Torch’s mate that she would need to take up the mantle?

“Torch is incapacitated for the time being. A dragon made an attempt on his life.” The Paladin momentarily glanced towards Slicer. “The attacker has been dealt with, but Torch was gravely wounded and needs rest. As such, the Lord Consort has shouldered his duties. She respectfully asks that you watch over the child for the time being.”

“We will. I’m sorry to hear about Torch.”

Whereupon, the Paladin left. Slicer followed the dragon out of the cave, as if meaning to got after him. But when the bearer of bad news spread his wings and took to the skies, Slicer went no further. Moving without knowing why, he found a rock at the cave entrance, and sat down.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. He couldn’t recall hearing anything, he didn’t recall doing anything. It was like he was just a spectator in his own body.

At some point, his only source of sunshine crept behind him, and wrapped her arms around him.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” Scales said in a soft whisper, as if she didn’t know what else to say or do. “Come on, Slicer. Let’s get you up. You can’t stay sitting there all day. I’ll take you to the quarry.”

Of course Scales was still there. What else could he expect? She was always there for him. He’d often heard drakes and girls gossip about her, and each jeer made him furious. They didn’t know her as he did.

But, how long until life took Scales from him as well?

She rarely left his side, typically staying in the dark corners that he shoved himself into. The only reason he’d begun to go outside again was because watching him wallow in his misery made her as miserable as he was. She didn’t deserve that.

Time at the quarry brought no relief. Dragons came and went, offering him their condolences.

“Sorry for your loss.”

“It will get better.”

“This will pass, and it won’t hurt as much one day.”

There was more, however. He heard dragons whispering about him as he played. Some sympathetic, others less so.

“That’s the traitor’s son, right?”

“How long before he goes insane as well?”

“Think he might start a war?”

It didn’t take long for him to piece it all together. His father had injured Torch. And then the pony princess killed him. Who were any of them to judge his family? Who were any of them to judge him?

“Are you okay?”

Slicer spasmed as he was torn out of his thoughts by Scales, who’d seized his wrist.. She looked worried, frightened even.

“I don’t like that look on your face,” Scales murmured.

He felt her grip on his wrist tighten.

“I’m going to take a walk.”

“Where?”

Slicer remained silent, but Scales already knew the answer.

“Can’t you just let it go?” she pleaded. “You’ll die!”

Death. Was that supposed to scare him? At this point, what did it even matter?

“Haven’t you been hearing what everyone’s saying about me; Who would miss me?” Slicer sneered, tearing his arm away from Scales.

She stood in a stunned silence, as he walked away from her.

“I would,” Scales whispered, too far for him to hear.

Atop a volcano’s rim, Elden Emeraldwing sat watching the land, counting down the days until the Gauntlet arrived. How long was it now, ten years? The length of a courting period before two dragons wedded, barely any time at all. Not that he could participate; he would be over fifty, the cutoff age for participants. He was excited because his companion had often said that a wrong would be righted. He was anxious to find out what said rightening would look like.

In the meantime, he was on guard duty. Ever since the incident with the thieves – he adamantly refused to call them slayers, after hearing about them – he had been watching out for ponies, and any other outsider, taking care of them if needed. So far, nothing. It was boring, but he did his duty without complaint. Normally the outskirts were barren, save for the rare first-time diggers out looking for gems under the watchful eyes of their parents.

However, today was different. A lone whelp traveled further and further from the main kingdom. Curiosity got the better of him, or perhaps it was a moral issue. A whelp, alone, so far from home? Something might happen, if someone didn’t keep an eye on him.

He started to follow the whelp. If some outsider did attack, he could always save his life. The boy’s posture told a whole story. He was angry. Punching the air, kicking stones, letting out grunts of frustration. He even slashed at a boulder. Many whelps broke their claws doing that. This one’s claws cleaved through the stone cleanly.

‘The Steelspine boy,’ Elden thought, examining the marks after the boy moved on.

Elden had always found the name to be confusing. While there were many clans, two stood out above the rest in his opinion, other than his own and those of his friends. The Steelspines and the Ironscales. Two powerful, yet deceptively simple abilities. The first was the ultimate weapon. Claws that could cleave through anything. The second was the ultimate defense. Scales that could block any attack. If not for Flash Magnus discovering what platinum could do, and the fact that punches and bludgeoning didn’t need to break through scales to be effective, the Ironscale Clan would have been seen as mythic dragons. All the same, he’d been instructed by his late parents to never seek out a fight either unless his life depended on it.

Not that he would even consider fighting a child. His trajectory was on course to hit the coast, if he continued straight. What was he doing? Was he following in his family’s footsteps to attack the ponies? Elden allowed himself a chuckle. Was the whelp’s plan to swim to Equestria? Unless Steelspines had a hidden ability that allowed them to breathe underwater, this lad would drown before making it a tenth of the way there. And if he did somehow make it, without becoming a geyser-eel’s next snack, then a roc would see him, and make a meal of him.

Elden’s smirk fell, the longer he followed and the closer they came to the coast.

‘Sweet Asgorath, he’s actually planning to swim to Equestria.’ Elden stood dumbfounded. He recalled being taught that children could be thick, but this was another level of dense. Not that he couldn’t understand. He could see the anger in Slicer, even from a distance. That, and the boy’s ability? Why not help him out?

He decided to make a move.

Slicer nearly jumped out of his scales the moment a towering emerald figure appeared before him.

“Hello there little one,” said Elden, looking down at the whelp, close enough to see the feral anger in Slicer’s eyes. “Let’s you and I take a walk.” He reached out his claw and grabbed Slicer by the scruff off his neck and carried him away.

It was rare that a dragon could cast magic. Elden prided himself for his clan’s ability to do just that, if only that granted his clan the status of Mythic. Magic was versatile, useful, powerful, but now he knew why the Steelspines were considered the ultimate weapons. Slicer’s claws cleaved through even a magic shield like wet paper if it wasn’t strengthened enough. The brat now hung in a fiery green aura, thrashing in the air, weeping, spitting out streams of fire.

He was finally released into a cave, as the towering emerald figure took a seat before him.

“Why did you stop me!?” Slicer yelled, speaking through bitter tears.

“Because what you were doing was a fool’s errand,” the emerald dragon said. “Ignoring the fact you had no way of getting to Equestria, Celestia felled your father with little effort. What chance do you have? That’s if you didn’t drown, or get torn apart by a sea predator, or have a roc snatch you up!”

Slicer opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Even he could admit that his plan was less than ideal, logical, or realistic in any sense of the word.

Elden sighed. “Dry your tears. They’re of no use to you, nor your family.”

Slicer did as he was told. Crying didn’t bring Onyx back. Crying wasn’t going to bring anyone back. But what did the emerald dragon want with him?

“Where are we?” Slicer asked, sniffling.

“A safe place. There are a few dragons you should meet.” Elden gave a whistle, and slowly, more dragons came out of the shadows of the cave.

“Who the hell– You brought a kid into our cave?” cried an amethyst dragon, floating down from the roof of the cave, landing on the floor without so much as a sound.

“Looks like a runt, and sounds like a whiny runt,” sneered a shimmering blue dragon. A cold chuckle left his lips. “Did a mean bully steal your gem, is that why you’re crying?”

“Throw him out, I don’t need some brat making more noise,” snarled a yellow dragon from further within the cave.

Slowly, they surrounded the young dragon, jeering and taunting him, until a flash of light filled the vicinity, blinding the group and making everyone see spots for a moment.

“Enough crowding him!” shouted a feminine voice.

A white dragon, her scales glistening as if they were made of pure diamond, pushed everyone away from the whelp, even the calm green dragon. She soon lowered herself and smiled at him “Hello there. My name is Cream Crystalclaw. What’s yours?”

“Slicer Steelspine,” he said, once he was able to find his voice.

She was warmer in demeanor than the others, it seemed. There was even a certain glow about her that made him believe she was a kind, gentle dragon. More amazingly, it was as if her claws, and her spines glowed with light.

“That is a very nice name, Slicer. Very strong. I’m sorry about my friends. They get fidgety when they meet someone new. And between you and me, they’re not too bright.”

She began to introduce each dragon, starting with the green one that had brought him here, and following the order they had approached him in.

“This is Elden Emeraldwing, he’s the calmest of our little group. The others are Aero Amythsttail, Surr Sapphirespine, and Thal Topazhorn, I’m sure you can figure out who is who by their clan name. They’re nicer once you get to know them.” Cream turned towards the green dragon. “Elden, I suppose there’s a reason you brought him here?”

“His father was killed by Princess Celestia of Equestria, the rest of his family was slain by ponies. Slicer wanted to hunt her Royal Highness down, but I decided that he wasn’t going to throw his life away.” Elden glared at the three idiots he called his friends. “Perhaps you three have something to say in light of the circumstances?”

The three dragons, who had been taunting Slicer seconds earlier, fell silent, and murmured both their apologies and condolences, only for Elden to wave them off, while Cream gave him a much-needed hug.

“Fools, all of you,” Elden said, glaring at the three dragons. “Sometimes I wonder if you have anything in those skulls of yours.”

There came a cold chuckle in the back of the cave. “You and I both. But why do they need brains of their own when they have you, Elden?”

Slicer watched as a cloaked dragon rose from the shadows, and turned towards the group. He slowly strode towards them, humming a tune that was too light and optimistic to be from their lands. The dragons seemed to stand at attention, save for Cream, who put her arms behind her back, coyly rocked her body from side to side, smiling at the dragon dreamily as he approached. He gave her snout a playful poke before squatting to look over Slicer.

“Let’s have a look. Oh, there’s a fire in you, boy. Not too surprising. It takes courage to hunt a demi-god. Foolish, but brave nonetheless,” the cloaked figure said, giving him a smile. “My name is Shard Obsidian. A pleasure to meet you.”

Slicer got a look at the dragon’s face under his hood. His golden eyes seemed to fiercely glow. He was covered in scales that seemed to be made of onyx, and his face was cracked, as if he were made of glass. Strangely, the longer Slicer looked at the dragon, the more he got the feeling of something off about him. The feeling soon became overwhelming and his instincts screamed for him to run.

The cloaked figure frowned when he saw Slicer step back. “Hmm. I do have a face that makes dragons want to run,” Shard said with a sigh, adjusting his hood. “I’m sorry for your loss, little one. I also know what it feels like to let your family die.”

This insult had the whelp seeing red. Slicer’s attack came quickly, his claws slashing across Shard’s face. Before the other dragons could move, the cloaked dragon bade them to calm themselves with just a wave of his hand.

Slicer’s anger quickly faded, and he took several steps back. “I-I didn’t– I’m–”

“An amazing hit,” Shard said. He drew back his hood a few inches. Not a single mark was present on his face, save for the cracks already present.

Slicer trembled in his place. He was certain that he’d hit his target. His claws could cut through the hide of the Ironscale clan, they cleaved through rock and stone like water, yet not a single cut was present on this dragon.“I-I’m sor–”

“Do not apologize,” Shard said. “I can’t blame you for lashing out. I would have done the same thing. Make no mistake, though, I do know how you feel, all too well.”

“How do you know anything about me?” Slicer asked, his body relaxing.

“Because even now you’re wondering what you could have done differently to keep them alive. Wondering why you let them die.” Shard stood, and stared at the back of the cave. “Foolish thoughts. You’re a child, you couldn’t have done anything. That doesn’t make you feel any less alone. You just want to fade. Huddle into some dark corner somewhere and vanish. Dragons say it gets better, but you also know that’s just a comforting lie they’re telling you– or maybe one they’re telling themselves, so they don’t have to care about you. And the whispers, they sneer at you behind your back for what your family did. Who are they to even speak their names? And that anger you have, that unrelenting anger, it calls to you constantly, even now. Their precious princess murders your father, her people come to our land and kill your sibling, and she acts as if they are the victims in all of this.”

“How did you–?”

“Because, my father was murdered by a pony.” Shard’s claws dug into his palms. “A pony he plucked off the side of the road. Whose life he saved. A pony he sheltered and nurtured, protected and comforted. A pony he showered with riches and gifts and love. Can you imagine that? A paragon among mortals, and he gave a wretched little equine his love. Her gratitude was shown by stealing from him, and then murdering him in cold blood.”

Shard let out a deep, deep sigh.

“I refuse to lie to you. This will never be better. The pain you feel will never truly leave. No one will even want to try and punish that wretch that the ponies fawn over. And those thoughts running through your head, not a day goes by when I wonder what I could have done to save my father.” He sat in sad recollection, giving Slicer a sheepish smile. “But that anger will get you killed if you do not rule it. Tell me, before the ponies, where did you see yourself ending up once you got older?”

“I was going to be the Dragon Lord. I was supposed to teach my little brother to fight, my sister would teach us to read, and then– and then–”

Slicer’s mind went blank. He always saw them there with him, but now what did he have?

“You didn’t think much, did you?” said Shard. “Understandable. I was like that too. And what do you wish to do now?”

Slicer didn't need to even think about it. “I want to burn them all,” the whelp spoke with a growl. “When I’m Dragon Lord, I’ll order every dragon to burn Equestria to the ground!”

Shard frowned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to discard that thought, someone else is destined for that mantle.”

“Destined? There’s no such thing as destiny!” Slicer shouted.

“True, which is why I try to make sure we avoid our worst instincts. I might not look like much, but I am something of a soothsayer, if you’ll believe it.”

Slicer gave him a questioning look, but Shard only chuckled.

“It’s true. I have seen the future. These colorful dragons before you can attest to that.”

“Yes,” Cream said reverentially. “He predicted that four years ago, a pony would cause a Rainboom. Not only was he right, but he also predicted other occurrences with great accuracy. Elden saw a filly rescued by butterflies, who then coaxed animals from their dens with nothing more than a sweet voice. Aero saw a giant lizard burst forth from Canterlot castle. Surr followed an orange filly from a city to a farmhouse. Thal saw– what was it you saw?”

“I saw a pink pony get a poofy mane and then throw a party.” That earned a chuckle from the group. “She gave me something called a cupcake, and it tasted fantastic.”

“Yes, now I remember,” Cream nodded. “I watched as the cutest little filly used her magic to find countless gemstones. I have a feeling more and more of his predictions will come to fruition as well.”

“Indeed they will,” said Shard. “Such as the new Dragon Lord. I have foreseen him taking the scepter, and to make sure he does, I’ve been keeping certain things on track. That includes ensuring other dragons do not hinder him directly or indirectly.”

Slicer’s eyes narrowed. “They killed my family–”

“And his clan has lost legions to those ponies when the slayers were first born. Rivers of blood flowed freely as dozens of their sons were culled. A once mighty clan, bordering on the title of Mythic, nearly wiped out because ponies used their own sacred metal against them.” Shard sneered. He quickly calmed himself. “Dear boy, while I may empathize with your plight, don’t fool yourself. Many, many other dragons have lost far more than either of us.”

“Then what am I supposed to do!?”

“Be his loyal sword. Cull the ponies under his banner when the time comes. Make those animals know your name, fear it, like dragons fear the name Flash Magnus and Grimhoof. He will be our Celestia, but you will be our legend.”

He gave Slicer a smile.

“Consider this proposition, if you would, Slicer. You can spend time with our little group for as long as you want, and we can make sure you’re kept in fighting shape for when the time comes. We’d love to have you. And, since fate is a fickle thing, if I foresee the winds changing, I see an excellent Dragon Lord before me. No reason you shouldn’t be prepared to take the mantle just in case.”

Shard saw his eyes light up. He could already see that Slicer had made up his mind about joining them.

“This dragon that’s supposed to be Dragon Lord, what’s his name?” Slicer asked Shard.

“That’s a secret,” Shard put a finger to his maw. “I know I’m asking a lot, but patience is a virtue, dear boy. You’ll get your chance to meet him, and your chance to cull those wretched little creatures, but not yet. The time will come, but until then, bide your time. Do you have anyone you’re close with?”

Slicer nodded. “Scales Sunwing.”

“Cream, see to it that he gets to his friend safely. And Slicer, we’ll be in touch.”

Cream led Slicer out of the cave, but as they walked, his body wavered. A miasma seemed to wash over him, draining his stamina. He felt like he was about to collapse, but he was able to keep himself standing through sheer force of will, and kept moving forward inch by inch.

She glared at Thal, who stood grinning, leaning against a nearby wall, before cursing him in Draconic. He raised his hands and Slicer seemed to instantly recover. Not wanting to waste another minute, Cream picked Slicer up and hurried out, apologizing to him on Thal’s behalf.

“I like him,” Thal said, once Cream was gone. “I think I’ll look after him if we bring him on board. Hey, if we’re taking runts under our wings, think we should bring in that one drake you keep telling us about?”

“No,” Shard's voice was stern, like a father talking to his child after asking to break a rule in place to protect him. “It takes patience and precision to truly change the future. The worst thing you can do is try and rush things. Usually, such actions only ever benefit ponies. I will tell you when to move. Until then, we wait and relax.”

“Kid seems like an emotional wreck,” Surr said. “He attacks you, and you don’t even want to raise a hand to him? You really think this kid is worth the effort?”

“Yes. And that is final,” Shard said. “Three of us empathize with him. And we are partly responsible for his plight, after all.”

“Right, that ripple effect guff you keep spewing,” Surr said. “Speaking of that, the future Dragon Lord you’re always droning on about, how do you even know he’s going to do what you say he will? Shouldn’t your ripple effect change things?”

“It will. But that’s not always a bad thing. What we did removed an obstacle, the main obstacle, in his way to claim the scepter. Add the happy accident involving that egg, his clan’s already fuming hatred for ponies, and you have a dragon who’d love to see nothing more than that miserable little country burned. His ego will cause him to mouth off, and he’ll be too cowardly to take back his words.”

“If he’s that spineless–” Elden began, but Shard was quick to cut him off.

“I never said he was perfect, just the right tool for the job,” Shard said, sighing. “If he does grow a backbone to back out, we can apply leverage, but it needs to be done with care. Certain events need to happen to make sure the flames are fanned.”

“Do you even know who this kid is? You say you can’t tell us about him so we can’t screw things up, but part of me thinks you’re going to point at whoever’s the strongest when the time comes and declare him the one.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Shard smirked. “I can predict the moment a foal breaks through a magic barrier, I can predict what will happen to a pink pony living on some backwater farm. I can name the destination of a bumpkin leaving a city, but for some reason, you don’t think I can name the next Dragon Lord? That’s what I like about you, Thal, you’re adorably skeptical. Does anyone else share his concerns?”

The remaining dragons all raised their hands.

“I see. Yes, I know who he is.”

And he did. Shard had memorized the dragon’s face, his scales, his wants and desires, even his embarrassing little secrets.

“Tell you what, come his molt, I will introduce two of you to him. There’s an important event that we need to be a part of, one that will give us a foothold in his life. Surr, Elden, you two will be the ones to accompany me. I’ll need your hunting skills, Surr. And Elden, just make sure you can cast a spell that can kill a dozen or so soldiers all at once.”

That seemed to shut them up. Shard just needed to make sure they didn’t do anything too damaging when they finally met his Champion. A Champion who was filled with potential, yet that potential could be realized if, and only if, it was allowed to grow properly. He’d seen a future where that growth was impeded by the unworthy and the weak.

Now? Who could impede him?

Ember Brightcrest? With how things stood, she was destined to die in a little over a decade after bumping into his Champion mid-flight and falling into the sea. Drowning, or taken by sea predators, it was all the same either way. The land would be better for it, too. Shard pondered if his Champion would have gotten off so easily saying sorry after razing a village over the title of Honorary Yak. Considering that the drake in question wasn’t someone who looked cute and seductive, he doubted it.

Lord Torch? His reputation would be in the gutter after all that transpired the last few weeks. The Champion’s words would rally dragons together and they would surely trample the old dragon in their wake.

The Chaos Spirit? Paladins would make quick work of Discord. If there wasn’t a call for his head as soon as he was released from his stone prison, then it meant that the Platinum Paladins saw him as a non-threat. There was a reason the coward hid away in Equestria. Shard pondered if that fickle friendship with that pathetically mewling mare was stronger than his own sense of self-preservation. Given Discord’s nature, and how easily he’d stab her in the back time after time, Shard was convinced he’d run if he didn’t join the winning team. If he did stand against them, there was no need to worry, his beautiful Cream would send him to the Nine Hells where he belonged.

Speaking of mares, the Elements of Harmony could prove an issue, but they had one weakness – all six Bearers needed to be present. Slay one, and all would fall. Lady Twilight was by far the most dangerous, followed by Rainbow and Applejack. However, Rarity, Pinkie and Fluttershy were so out of place. He wondered if Pinkie’s mane would deflate once she had a horrifying realization that he was going to kill one of them. Fluttershy could get a burst of courage and ferocity, but what would that amount to? Once the shock wore off, she was just an average mare, facing off against dragons. Shard was almost eager to see what a firm backhand would do to her newfound bravado. Finally, there was Rarity. She had skills, but a seamstress was a seamstress, so how useful was she?

Perhaps he’d roll a die to decide which one he'd kill. It’d be more fun that way.

Smolder Ironscale? She had yet to meet her little friends. As things stood now, Ember would never be Dragon Lord, so why would she turn against her brother? There would be no school, thus no lonely griffon, moronic yak, sickeningly cute Changeling, annoying Hippogriff or bland and boring pony for her to make nice with. No lessons to weaken her, no disloyalty to be had. But he was nothing if not cautious. If she started down that treacherous path early, a pony spear would find its way into her heart, and his Champion would have one more reason to burn Equestria.

Of course, thanks to his actions, Shard had to help that wretched little country until the time came. Sombra could prove difficult to deal with if left to his own devices. He didn’t want some upstart Umbrum getting in his way, nor did he want the mare that’d keep his bed warm becoming a nuisance. Starlight Glimmer? It was a gamble to let her run loose, and he detested gambles. Perhaps he could let her and Twilight come to an agreement, but it would be simpler to have her explain the reasoning for her ideology to the citizens of Our Town, and then have everyone laugh at how pathetic she was. Maybe he would arrange a meeting with Sunburst before she got any stupid ideas, to spare her that humiliation. After all, Equestria had a mail system, why not have her take advantage of it?

What about Sunset Shimmer and the Dazzlings? He’d check on them, but if push came to shove, the Crystal Mirror was breakable. He was curious about that realm himself. Why was he able to see events there? If it was another world, he should be blind to it. Questions for later.

And if his Champion somehow failed, there were so many other calamities to look forward to.

The Changelings’ invasions. The Storm King. The Pillars of Equestria returning alongside Stygian, who’d be throwing his tantrum. And if all else failed, he had the last resort. Precious little Cozy Glow and her magic-draining spell. He was blind beyond the moment of the Tree of Harmony’s intervention, so he had five chances to get things right.

But Shard wouldn’t have a need to go past the Gauntlet. Really, there was only one person in the world that could have been a threat to his plans. Perhaps Spike the Dragon would somehow stand tall and claim the mantle himself, or perhaps he could empower others to do so as he was so fond of doing. Shard had to keep himself from bursting out laughing at the thought.

In his mind, there was no dragon that deserved more ire than the elusive Spike. He was a meddling wretch that could do nothing on his own, but whine and pontificate, praying that he rallied someone with actual strength to his cause. A weak and pampered, half-impotent whelp with delusions of grandeur. This was, of course, if he didn’t turn out to be some hypocritical, violent narcissist with a feckless harem at his beck and call. Shard honestly didn’t know which was the bigger threat to his plans.

Yes, Spike the Dragon could have proven to be a problem.

The memory of that night, the ponies crying out in agony, pleading for mercy. The weeping, half-dead mother begging and screaming as her wailing son was torn from her arms, still brought a smile to Shard’s ruined face. His only regret was entrusting the deed to Aero, and not being there to witness the glorious moment Spike was slain.

His disappointment was probably for the best. Spike's mother was an unknown factor in the grand scheme of things, and for that, she needed to be taken care of. True, he’d saved her from her initial fate, but that was because he needed her alive for just a moment. Then that moment passed. Now, there was nothing to stop his Champion from claiming the title of Dragon Lord, and nothing to deprive him of watching Equestria burn. He merely had to wait until Dragon Lord Garbuncle Ironscale at long last claimed his scepter.

But the boy needed guidance, a hand to keep him on the right path, and to make sure major events were kept on the straight path.

It was easy to do. He had foreseen it. In just four years, young Garble was going to be abducted, chained up like an animal. It would plant in him a seed of distrust of all outsiders. Oh, but Shard would be there in his time of need. When the hour seemed darkest, Shard would be there with his elite dragons to part the cloud and deliver a ray of light. From there, he would teach Garble, train him, mold him into becoming a warrior beyond comparison. He couldn’t wait for it to happen.

Little did Shard know that Spike the Dragon had already ruined his plan.

Author's Note

This took much longer than intended, but here is the next chapter of Our Little Brother. Hope you all enjoy, and the next chapter should be out much, much sooner.

Chapter 28: A Life Worth Preserving

Lord Torch soon recovered from his injuries, much to Blaze’s relief. Her stint in the role of honorary Dragon Lord had come and gone without further incident, yet for the first time, she had found how heavy the mantle of rulership was to bear over so proud and bull-headed a people as the dragons. Always, Blaze had to keep an eye out for quarrels. Grown-up dragons were about as fond of fighting as their whelps were, and whilst for many a drake, whatever small grievances lay between them would easily be satisfied by a playful tussle, the duty of a Lord was to spot when the smallest ember might flare into the fires of an outright feud.

Admittedly, the source of most disputes came down to fair trade, a matter on which the priesthood would oft be called upon to help cast judgment. Whether or not this dragon or that dragon had found a precious gem first. Whether an armorer had been paid their rightful due for what they’d forged. Or whether the armorer’s work was subpar, and thus deserved no full payment. In fact, before Torch had become Dragon Lord, he himself had once been at the heart of just such a dispute, regarding the armor he so proudly wore nowadays. The court had split the difference; Torch and his armorer would let out their bad blood in a fight, which he won readily, but he owed the other drake the full price.

Afterwards, Torch had graciously admitted the armor was great at deflecting his opponent’s blows.

It said a lot that a Dragon Lord usually need only command a pair of quarreling dragons to fight once and be done with it, after which the two would be best of friends again, as if nothing had ever happened. And thus Blaze only felt sadder to think that the Ironscales and Steelspines might never get the chance for such a reconciliation now. Would the two clans have escalated into a full-blown feud, managed to work out their differences, or perhaps just ignored one another? With the Steelspines whittled down to the last child, none may ever know for sure.

When Torch returned home, nursed back to health by Topaz, Blaze decided to apologize for underestimating the work he did in maintaining order. She was smart, but intelligence could only go so far without the strength to back it up. Nevertheless, hers was a quiet apology. Seeing how much trouble he’d gone through in these last few months, she thought it best to show him some form of kindness. She had not yet fully forgiven him for using the Dragon Lord’s Voice on her, much as she may have wished a couple times she could tap into that power while acting as his regent. But she knew Torch’s devotion to Ember, and that counted for a lot to her. Torch was merely happy to be reunited with his family; his beloved mate and daughter.

However, in the years which followed, the Brightcrests were not the sole denizens of their cave.

Whereas the dragons had grieved for the Steelspines following the loss of their egg, that initial sympathy had almost wholly dried up, ever since the incidents at Sardior’s Pit and Squires Gate. While general opinion still held the Equestrians accountable for starting the bloodshed, many dragons agreed the Steelspines had disgraced themselves by not only escalating the violence, but also by attacking a Dragon Lord. Of course, there were still a number of dragons who only saw the latter as a minor issue, and the former as an active good.

The Sunwings granted Slicer shelter for the time being, mostly because their daughter was fond of him. Yet there could be no doubt that Slicer’s time with them was to be short-lived. Already, some were whispering that it was inappropriate for the two whelps so close to one another to be living under the same roof. However, Torch wasn't hasty to find new accommodations for him. There was a risk of someone taking the lad in, only to feed that fiery rage likely growing in his heart.

Both Torch and Blaze gave the matter much thought, before reaching a decision.

Perhaps, deep down, Torch remembered his meeting with Amber Ironscale, when she’d presented him the infant Heathspike, whom he’d handled so poorly. Be that as it may, the irony was not lost on either of the Brightcrest parents when they chose to take in Slicer, an orphan of their own.

Torch was not without misgivings, nor was he without compassion. It was foolish of dragons to blame the wrongdoing of a parent on a child. What worried Torch most wasn’t that Slicer may still want to wage war on Equestria, it was a dragon pushing him to make on another foolish attack and getting him killed. While he couldn’t read the minds of his subjects, he knew himself and his mate. They could steer him in the right direction.

Thankfully the boy seemed calm about it now. So strangely calm. Against his better judgment, Torch let it go. If Slicer had lost his hatred, then there was no sense in getting him to recall it. Or maybe Slicer was simply less exacting than his father, and considered Torch suitably punished; even with Topaz’s art of healing, the damage inflicted by Kalamet had left its mark.

For the rest of his days, Torch lost sight in one of his eyes. He kept this hidden under either a patch, or a new metallic piece to his crown that obscured the wound. Dragons, especially teenagers and youngsters, began to call him One-Eyed Torch. Fortunately for the Dragon Lord, the addition of an eyepatch to his crown and the scars left by his attacker only served to enhance his mystique. It made him look intimidating, which was Torch’s favorite thing to be. But, having consulted with Blaze, Torch also gave words of reassurance to his people.

Thanks to his account of the last fight at Sardior’s Pit, which carefully made no mention of him the fiery Princess Celestia, but emphasized her partially healing him, as well as embellishing his and Kalamet's fight, many dragons decided to forget about the equine, viewing the creatures as wastes of time. In a hundred years, no pony born today would even be alive. Why bother with grievances towards them? After this much death, would it not be justice for dragons to just choose to live?

The shared experience of bringing an orphaned whelp into their fold also brought Amber Ironscale and Blaze Brightcrest closer together, as did the latter’s accounts of the challenges she’d faced during her brief time on the throne. Not everything was the same; even Amber’s maternal nature felt put to the test by the thought of anyone adopting the son of a clan who’d nearly killed her family, least of all Blaze. Her feeling sorry for Slicer, when so many had given up on him, only went so far.

The generosity shown by Torch in taking Slicer in had warmed her to Blaze’s mate. At the same time, it made her wary. He likely assumed that, even if Slicer were to someday act out of line after all, a lone clanless drake posed no real threat.

Males did not think long-term. There were things they did not see.

While part of her was thankful Slicer did have a friend to call his own, Amber was well aware that Scales Sunwing once had an eye on her eldest son. Despite her personal indifference for the Sunwings if, for some reason she couldn’t hope to fathom, their clan had proposed a betrothal, Amber’s would reject it on very simple grounds; ‘it will not work out between them’.

There was nothing abnormal about Scales. Yes, she could be a bit of a brat sometimes, but so could Smolder, Ember, Spike, Garble and any other child when they were so young. The worst she could name in recent memory was the embarrassment Scales had caused by hounding Slicer at a gathering, the same gathering when Smolder made friends with Ember. The issue was what Garble seemed to like in girls. He liked Ember, and that was because she had grit and determination, and a certain level of intelligence, which was tempered by her impulsiveness. While, Scales seemed to possess a devious mind for her age, but she never liked to push herself all that much. That seemed to be a deal breaker for her eldest son.

She cared for Blaze as a friend, truly and deeply, yet she also understood convenience. And so it was that one day, while the two were lying by a river of lava on a lazy afternoon, dipping their forepaws into the bubbling warmth, Amber asked a question seemingly out of the blue.

“What do you think of a betrothal between our children?”

Blaze stared at her friend for a few seconds, before finding her voice. They had been discussing Ember’s latest escapade with Smolder, so her mind was on her daughter then, but the shift in topic had slipped in hard enough to catch her off-guard.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Garble and Ember, what do you think of a betrothal between them?”

“Amber, they are ten!”

Amber shrugged her shoulders. It would be far from the youngest betrothal there was in the Dragonlands. And it wasn’t as if they'd be forcing their children into anything. Parents hedged their bets. If the pair still had feelings for each other once they grew older, a betrothal would allow Garble and Ember could shorten their courting time down to less than a decade. If they couldn’t stand each other, they’d go their separate ways and no-one would speak of the matter ever again.

“Selena and Ring were five when they were betrothed,” said Amber, “and they’re on their fourth child by now, are they not?”

Blaze wasn’t going to engage. Likely Amber had memorized countless examples of such betrothals which ended in happy families. By comparison, Blaze could think of only maybe three courtships which had ended up for naught, and each of the mismatched couples still remained on speaking terms. But the thought did occur to her that more went on between cave walls than was polite to admit. Dragons were meant to mate for life, after all. And if she had one example of how the measure of a successful marriage went beyond a good courtship, the rough patches in her own relationship with Torch sprung to mind.

She tried to remember if Smog Ironscale, the eternal bachelor, had ever got betrothed by his parents, before giving up on that line of riposte and cutting to the chase.

“Why are you bringing this up?”

“When a young dragon cries, how do dragons typically respond?” Amber asked.

This did not answer the question, but Amber sometimes acted roundabout like that. True, it was a habit that would get on Blaze’s nerves after a while, yet she could play along for now. “They’re mocked.”

“So, what does it tell you when a very strong drake, the pinnacle of what a growing whelp should be, comforts a girl who refuses to leave him alone and attacks him on a near-constant basis? Better question, what does it tell you about said drake when he stands up to your mate on her behalf? In fact, what does it say that she gets pouty whenever she isn’t able to spend any time with him for a day?”

Right. So that was it. Sound enough logic, by Blaze’s estimation. Garble and Ember had an unusual relationship, but they also cared for one another, it seemed, in their own way. Still, a betrothal was not a mother’s choice alone. It was both parents’ choice.

“I see your point,” Blaze sighed. “Counterpoint– my mate will say no. Every time.”

“It’s just food for thought,” Amber said with a smile.

It was the last time for a long time that a betrothal was brought up directly, but when their children played together, Amber would wear a knowing look on her face, and glance at Blaze every so often.

Before anyone knew it, three years came and went.

Garble grew, over a head in height, tall for a drake of his young age. Even wingless, still recognisably a whelp yet to molt, the signs were there already of the strong and muscular dragon he was bound to be. Smolder grew too, though rather differently from her older brother. Contrary to him, she remained short for a dragon, what a pony might have cutesily called “petite”. She never voiced it out loud, and it was one thing her brothers never dared tease her about, yet the family knew she felt self-conscious about it. Ember, of all dragons, had experienced a growth spurt. Smolder hoped she might still catch up one day. At least this was something else on which both girls found common ground.

But most importantly, Spike grew. The little drake was able to blow a steady stream of fire now, and best of all, he fought. Not as intensely as his brother nor sister, yet still. He was above average, in terms of strength and skill. Amongst his peers, little Jade Spiketail thought him the greatest. They grew closer over the years, and though Jade’s affection could be irritating at times, Spike could admit he would rather have a friend around than not.

Today was like any other day when Flare stepped into his family’s cave, where he noticed all three of his children huddled around a ceramic case.

Inside the open case was a familiar-looking egg. A phoenix egg, to be precise. He recalled that the only time dragons interacted with phoenix eggs was during egg raids. He’d heard that other races would regard such practices as barbaric, but Flare considered those races to be spoilt. For dragons, whelps especially, egg raids were a necessity.

When a whelp reached puberty, anywhere in the range from thirteen to fifteen, they typically underwent their first molt. As a right of passage, they left home for two weeks to survive on their own. Although girls may sometimes be shadowed, unknowingly, by a family member or a friend, boys had to make do on their own. Food was sure to be scarce and a whelp might need to fight over it with another dragon, a fight with far more serious and life-threatening stakes than the constant tussles of youth.

Even though they were small, a young dragon was a force to be reckoned with. Only rare and powerful beasts like the roc, the tatzelwurm or the hydras would even consider attacking a whelp, attracted to them by the pungent scent of their molt. Other beasts, should the whelp’s claws, fangs and fire breath not suffice to scare them off, instinctively knew they ran the risk of a whelp crying out and drawing in an extremely protective, furious mother not far off.

Phoenix eggs in particular provided a good meal for a whelp in a dire situation. Doubly so if they managed to catch a full-grown phoenix. However, phoenixes were tough prey for dragons, with the parents matching their predators in protectiveness. Not to mention, the fire-birds were some of the few creatures who had nothing to fear from a dragon’s flame. This was why every so often, whelps would be nudged by their parents to go on egg raids. They would get practice, and should they succeed, a snack to cook for themselves.

However, the question now was just why Spike had an egg secured in a very fancy case.

“Spike, what have you got there?” Flare asked.

“I got it on an egg raid with Garble!” Spike chirped.

Flare squinted at his youngest son. Despite the upbeat tone, there was evidence of tears on his cheeks, glistening against purple scales.

Why had Spike been crying? He turned to Amber, who silently motioned towards their firstborn. She did not look angry, yet there was a hint of disappointment in her face.

“Garbuncle, come with me,” said Flare. “You and I need to talk.”

Garble groaned, but he appeared to have been expecting this, getting put on the spot by his father.

He got up and followed Flare outside, walking behind him until they had reached the foot of their mountain home. Then Flare rounded on him.

“You took your brother on an egg raid,” Flare said, in a quiet voice. “Care to explain why Spike brought home an egg intact?”

Garble’s shoulders were slumped and he was having trouble looking Flare in the eye. He remained silent for a good long while, until finally he sighed.

“He couldn’t smash it.”

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?” Flare asked. He waited, but Garble looked away. “Why didn’t you make him? Garble, there are times you need to go easy on Spike, but this is not one of them! He needs to be able to make these choices! What if he were to molt tomorrow?”

“I know, I know,” Garble said, taking a step back, trying hard not to stammer. “B-but, he was there, Dad, he saw that egg the ponies broke, remember? And– and I think it’s keeping him from doing it. You weren’t there, you didn’t see how he looked when everyone else smashed their eggs!”

Flare felt ready to bark at him, yet he managed to stay collected.

He often forgot that his eldest was still young, too young to instill this kind of lesson in Spike. Garble himself had similar reservations once. Amber was a fine mother, but she wouldn’t be able to force this type of lesson on them.

“Go up to the cave, and send your brother out. He’s to leave the egg with you and your sister. Tell your mother we likely won’t be back until tomorrow. Understood?”

Garble nodded and did as he was told.

Soon, Spike came pattering down the mountain. “Garble said you wanted to talk?” he said, with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Flare nodded, and lowered his wing.

“Climb on, Spike. You and I need to take a short trip.”

Hours must have passed. Spike clung to his father’s hide as they soared through the air, feeling a mounting anxiety, the longer they flew in silence. The sun was just starting to set, and the forest they were flying towards cast an eerie shadow, in his eyes. Despite Flare calling this a “short” trip, judging by what Garble had told their mother, they weren’t returning to the cave for the night.

Part of him was excited. He’d never slept outside the cave before. However, any excitement was soon overtaken by his uneasiness.

“Dad, is everything–”

“Garble told me about the egg raid.”

His father’s voice was stern, lacking most emotion, and Spike had never heard him speak like this before.

“A-are we going to try again?” Spike asked, almost in a whimper. He saw the forest fast approaching. Realizing they were soon to land, the anxiety within him tightened his guts into a knot.

“No. We’re here for something else.”

Flare went silent, purveying the woods below them. He could feel Spike’s grip tighten as time went on. However, in a clearing, he saw what he was looking for.

“Hang on,” he told his son. Flare nose-dived towards the woods, only to narrowly avoid crashing into the ground and flying back up. It did not matter. While Spike may not be able to see it from where he sat, Flare’s dive had got him what he wanted.

Shaking his head, Flare found them another clearing, where could let his wings spread.

“Off,” he told Spike.

Spike did as commanded, landing on all fours in the soft grass. He looked up at his father. And he noticed that the great dragon carried something between his claws. It was a boar. The beast struggled in vain to escape as its cries echoed through the woods. It tried to gouge his father’s flesh, kick and bite, but its tusks and teeth could not pierce scales.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

Spike’s apprehension had faded, yet what was left was no better, a pervasive, icy discomfort he’d never expected to feel in his father’s presence. Not when he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. Somehow, this just made it worse, especially as Flare stayed silent.

“I– I think you’re scaring it,” Spike said in a weak, frightened voice.

Flare spoke at last. “I’m sorry, Spike,” he said, still in that cool, emotionless tone. “But this is something you need to learn. Garble had to learn it. So did I, so did Smog, and my father, and his father before him. Even Furnace. Are you hungry, Spike?”

Spike could not understand, or perhaps did not want to understand what his father was saying. Instead, he focused on the question itself, as if it had been asked in a vacuum. The flight had been a long one, indeed, and he was starting to get hunger pains.

“Y-yeah, but–”

Spike saw his father’s fingers grip two of the boar’s limbs, and turned before he had to see what his father was doing. He heard the snaps, and the squeals that followed. When he finally found the courage, he turned back around to see the creature thrashing on the ground, as it tried to escape from his father, two legs bent at unnatural angles.

However, seeing the futility of its position, the boar soon ceased its struggles, and waited for the inevitable, letting out low, pathetic cries into the dark of the woods.

“This is your meal.” It was not a warm voice, nor was it cold. It was just a statement of fact.

Spike’s mind became abuzz. He wanted some way out of this. He quickly recalled something that was taught to him at a very early age. “But, we’re not supposed to eat living–”

“I know,” Flare interrupted, having heard the excuse more than once, even used it himself at one time. “That’s why you need to kill it first.”

Spike stared at his father in disbelief.

Flare recognized the look instantly. Garble had given him that look. As had Smolder, for that matter. He too had given his own father the same look, when he was a whelp. He simply said what his father had told him, and what he’d told his eldest son.

“It’s suffering and doomed to die, if not to us, then to something else that will come along. Unlike us, they will not care if the boar is alive or not.”

The words were recited more than spoken, and only by force of will did Flare speak the words by more than rote, pouring into them a tinge of the emotion he’d previously held back. Because this was not just an empty ceremony nor cruel tradition to him; what he sought to teach tonight, he knew from experience, held very real meaning.

He showed Spike where to cut, using the very tip of his claw to make a light puncture wound on the boar’s neck.

“I’m sorry, but If you want to eat tonight and go home, Spike, you need to go through with this.”

With that, Flare sat and waited.

Smoke rose into the air from the campfire that Flare had built. Despite his many reservations, Spike had managed to cut deep and quick. The boar died quickly and painlessly. After Flare cleaned and skinned it, the beast roasted on a spit above a raging fire.

The cooking smell wafted through the forest, attracting beasts from the woods. However, upon seeing a fully-grown dragon, they left in a hurry. Flare savored the cooking. He even cooked certain innards like the boar’s liver, kidneys and heart. He felt a quiet sense of pride in his son.

Spike sat in silence, looking deep into the fire, the food on his stone slab scarcely touched.

“How are you?” Flare asked him, softly yet not too gently.

Whimpers began to echo in the clearing, eliciting a sigh from Flare.

“I know, I know.” He carefully curled around Spike, and the fire he had built. “It’s not an easy thing that we do, but it’s necessary. When the molt comes, you shall need to make such choices.”

“Why?” Spike asked, sniffling.

“Because you will be making these same decisions as you grow up,” Flare warned him, sighing. “Life is not always an easy ride, son. You need to strive and stay determined, but sometimes that isn’t enough. Growing bigger means you’ll grow stronger. It also means you’ll have to do more to stay strong. And that might mean fighting to live another day. Gems won’t sustain you like they did as a whelp, and when gems are hard to find, you have to turn to animals.”

He took a moment to let the words sink in, curling his tail further around his youngest son. When he felt that time enough had passed, measured by the flickering embers of their campfire, Flare delivered the rest of what he had to say. Unlike before, the words were all his.

“I’m making you do this now for two reasons,” Flare said, nuzzling Spike. “Firstly, so that when you find yourself in a hungry situation, you can go through with it. But not just the act of killing. Any hunger-crazed beast can kill for food. You must know what you’re doing, and why.”

Tentatively, Flare brought his claws to stroke Spike’s forehead. The same claws which had seized, and held and hurt their meal of the night, a living creature. He sensed Spike stiffen at his touch, yet felt a little lighter when his son did not recoil.

“And secondly, Spike, your life is worth preserving, even if that means other creatures must die. If I had to choose between you and another dragon, or boar, or a pony, I wouldn’t hesitate to choose you. Your mother and your siblings, they would all do the same, like I know you’d do the same for them. You’ll understand it when you're older. If nothing else, I want you to remember the following rule. Kill animals to eat and survive. Never relish in the action for the sake of it.”

Spike nodded. “Dad, do I need to get rid of the egg?”

“No. You can keep the egg. I don't know what will happen with it, but I trust Grandma Topaz and Smolder will help. In exchange, you need to start hunting with your brother and sister. It won’t be easy at first, but it’s needed, Spike. Do we have a deal?”

Spike nodded wordlessly.

“Good. Now, I’ll teach you to know when each part of the boar is done roasting.”

Spike was unable to deny that he had a very filling meal.

Out of all the innards his father taught him to prepare, the liver was by far his favorite. Boar meat overall? There was something called the loin that was tender and flavorful. Not as good as a gem, but certainly a healthy, nutritious meal for a growing drake. His father’s appetite was nothing to scoff at. All that remained of the beast after they were done was a pile of broken bones. Spike tried the marrow inside the bone, but found it tasted like iron. His father said it was nutritious and that in a pinch, it could help him, though certainly it was an acquired taste.

Flare stayed curled around his son, and the two slept undisturbed through the night.

The two dragons woke at the crack of dawn, and flew back to the familiar lands of their home. They landed in one of the more populated areas for a rest, and so that Spike could forage for a gem or two. Back to sweeter flavors, for now. Spike hadn’t spoken a word during the whole of the flight, laying upon Flare’s back as if there was a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“Spike!”

He heard a little voice cry out to him, as he dug into the ground, searching for a nice snack. Spike looked up to see Jade, who was shadowed by her father, Brutus Spiketail.

“I didn't see you yesterday. Were you out with your dad?”

Still without saying a word. Spike rushed toward Jade, trapping her in an embrace. A milestone for him, in the time since they’d become firm playmates. Jade didn’t seem to mind one bit, and happily returned the hug with the sweetest smile.

“I missed you, too,” Jade whispered.

Her father scowled, evidently less welcoming, but rather than roar, Brutus wisely chose to only glare at the drake who held his daughter close, as not to make a scene. His mate was close by watching their younger whelps, and he was not about to fight with an Ironscale of all dragons.

Instead, Brutus looked towards Flare. “Any reason why your whelp has my girl in a death-grip?” he said through clenched teeth.

Flare answered him in a level voice. “I expect he’s seeking some comfort.”

“Oh?” sneered Brutus. “And why would he need comfort?”

“He killed his first boar yesterday.”

Brutus fell silent and let the matter be. It was a hard lesson to learn for everyone. It got easier, but no one truly forgot their first.

He could tolerate it just for today.

As for Spike, he made good on his promise to his father, hard indeed as it was at first. In private, Garble would reveal his reservations about hunting to his brother. Smashing eggs was one thing, yet holding a living being between your claws, and ending its life, was another. And Garble too hadn’t forgotten the tragedy of the Steelspine egg, even if Slicer and he were neutral towards one another.

Still, hunting made for a bonding experience between the brothers, who gradually learned how to cook excellent meals out of their prey.

As promised, Spike was allowed to keep the egg, and the egg soon hatched, giving birth to a healthy phoenix chick. He didn’t know where his great-grandmother had gotten the supplies necessary for him, but he was thankful for them nonetheless. Unbeknownst to them and to most dragons, and to most of Equestria, Topaz still visited Squires Gate, now rebuilt and better than before. Luckily the townsfolk held no grudges, and still held Topaz in high regards.

The chick needed constant attention at first, and Spike made certain to measure out his food correctly, as one of the books said overfeeding a phoenix chick could be lethal. But soon enough, when a healthy coat of gold-and-scarlet feathers grew, the little bird fluttered out of its nest, and into the claws of the dragon he had imprinted upon.

Spike welcomed him to the family, dubbing the little phoenix Pee-Wee.

Chapter 30: New Home, New Family

The Feast of Fire marked the turn of the year in dragon culture. And though a dragon may not overly concern themselves with the other beings who populated their world, such festivals were to them just as much a time for family and feasting. But not all in the Dragonlands could always get into the festive spirit; behold, spin the wheel to a prior Feast of Fire, two years before Spike Ironscale and Jade Spiketail sat down to hear a little story told by Elder Blast, when another whelp of the Dragonlands was still coming to terms with his new lot in life.

By all accounts, Slicer Steelspine should have been happy. The Brightcrests were kind to him, there was no denying that. And since they had taken him in, legally, he should now be considered a prince. Honestly, which child had never once dreamt of something like this happening to them?

He’d have gladly traded it all away, if it meant seeing a single member of his true family again.

It wasn’t like Slicer tried to keep the Brightcrests at a distance. It just seemed to happen on its own. No matter what, despite their efforts to make him feel included, there was always a chasm that separated them. And it was worse at this time of year, when he had such strong memories of past Feasts spent with Kalamet and Pala and Gemstone.

At one time, Slicer might have liked it if Lord Torch was his father. If nothing else, the Dragon Lord told the best stories, boisterous and loud as a dragon should be. This meant he nearly always won the gem-pile at a Feast-time contest, of course, but since he’d share it back right after, not much was lost from it and everyone had heard a good story. Wrestling the great Minotaur champion, Darkhoof, in a contest of strength. Facing down an iron battle-airship powered by the flames of an angry Kirin. The hunt for a giant snake called “Grootslang”, which Torch claimed could swallow a dragon whole.

But Slicer could never look at Torch without the reminder that Dad and the Dragon Lord had fought. That damn eye-patch. What quietly infuriated Slicer even more, was how many young dragons thought it made him look cool.

Most infuriating of all was that Slicer probably would have agreed with them. If only he hadn’t lost his Dad when Torch lost his eye.

“And that’s how,” Torch told Ember, finishing his latest tale, “your father brought up the wreck of the Alicorn from the bottom of the Crystal Sea, despite the best efforts of the Kraken to stop him. I only regret not giving that beast a good scar. But I still keep the ship’s hull tucked away safe, off in a little creek with the rest of ‘em. I’ll show you them all, one day.”

Ember had been listening to the story with rapt attention. She’d told her own story earlier, in preparation for a competition later on in the week. Had even bet a few gems against her father, thinking hers was that good, but really she’d had no chance at winning this one. And yet instead of sulking about it, she was positively beaming at her father for outshining her.

“Alright, Dad,” Ember said, with a wide smile, pushing a few gems his way. “You win.”

Which were words she would never say in a fight. From his sitting position in the family circle, Slicer reflected on how he should have felt touched by the display. When all it did was disgust him to see Ember act like a Daddy’s girl. She must have forgotten he was there. If pressed, she would deny ever having talked this way. Ember annoyed him to no end. She was all hot air and no fire-power. How hard must it have been, for her to stand upright with such a swollen head.

‘Everyone is a boulderhead! Oh, I can read as well as Heathspike now! I almost beat Garble!’

This was how she usually told stories. She always ‘almost’ beat Garble. Really, it was just another way of saying she wouldn’t have lost if only he weren’t trying.

Off to the side, Lady Blaze was smiling too, saying nothing as Torch pretended to hide all of Ember’s precious gems in one fist, only to show her it was empty, and they were in the other. Her gaze did not linger on the pair, though, as she glanced towards him.

Blaze was the only one of this family whom Slicer actually liked. He didn’t think anyone in the Dragonlands disliked her, except for a few dragons with high opinions of themselves like Scales’ Mom, and even they afforded Blaze a grudging respect. When she treated him kindly, he never felt as if her kindness was laced with condescension. He could tell she felt sorry for him, yet she never went out of her way to tip-toe around him. She was just a nice lady, and she took care of him.

Even so, Slicer could not bear how living with her meant living with Ember and Torch. He knew why he’d been adopted by the Brightcrests, not some other family. Just because he was young didn’t mean he hadn’t figured it out.

The Dragon Lord wanted to make a big display of no hard feelings towards what was left of the Steelspines, because he was the only dragon who could absolve the Steelspines for having treacherously attacked a Dragon Lord. That was all. Without their protection, Slicer would be living out in the wilderness before he’d even molted, at the mercy of rocs and tatzelwurms.

And meanwhile, Blaze was contemplating Slicer, knowing this, and knowing that he knew. Despite the Feast, her heart lay heavy. Every so often, ever since that conversation she’d had with Amber regarding their children, her mind would go back to one word.

Betrothal.

Such a meaningful word that was. Yes, their children were closer than was typical, but betrothal? Sometime after the initial conversation, Blaze had asked Amber if she’d think about doing such a thing to Heathspike, only to receive a very enthusiastic ‘That’s a marvelous idea! I hear Jade asked her cousin about that just a few days ago,’ in response.

Keeping such thoughts from showing, Blaze looked towards her ward, and offered him a smile. There had been a break in the winter rainfall, and so Slicer had got to spend time outside the cave, which she suspected he’d prefer. On this first Feast day without his birth family, he wouldn’t be quite ready yet to accept the Brightcrests.

Surreptitiously, she’d asked Topaz Ironscale to keep an eye out for him. Despite the old healer’s large size, Topaz was good at discretion, which was presumably how’d she gone shopping to that pony town for so long. Doubtless she was twice as careful nowadays. Should anything happen to Slicer in a mud-slide or similar accident, the best dragon at hand would be there to help.

She could only hope Slicer didn’t begrudge all Ironscales.

“How was your day, Slicer,” Blaze said quietly. “Did you find any good gems?”

Blaze would have given him one as a present, but while dragons liked gifts, digging for and fighting over gems was whelps’ delight. And few dragons were receptive to charity at the best of times. Offering it now would very likely only have put Slicer off-side.

“Nah. Not really,” Slicer said tonelessly, shrugging his shoulders. “It was okay, though. I mostly played with Scales.”

Blaze could hear the disappointment in his voice. Slicer, once an object of pity, seemed to be left a pariah overnight. Although no-one was so callous as to say it out loud, the words “sins of the father” lay on everyone’s minds. This made Blaze somewhat thankful for his relationship with Scales. At least there was someone out there to help anchor him.

Ember did her best, but it was clear the two didn’t mesh well.

However, it would be a lie to claim Blaze didn’t have reservations. A part of her still didn’t understand what Scales’ game was with Slicer, why she’d attached herself to a Steelspine. Was it to exact revenge on Garble for spurning her affection? She could foresee how risky this might turn out for the Ironscales. The loving, affectionate side of her wanted to see two children seeking comfort in one another, nothing more. What was pragmatic and draconic in her nature saw differently.

Betrothal, was it? Today, the idea of Slicer and Scales joining names seemed unlikely. But just wait a few more years. Benefiting as he did from the Dragon Lord’s patronage, it was wholly conceivable that Slicer might restore his clan’s honor. And although the Sunwings may show reluctance, if Scales remained willing, then Slicer had a potential mate waiting, along with a valued ally. She could only imagine how such a union would enhance the Sunwings’ prestige.

And Blaze could see it happening. Scales still proclaimed her desire for Garble, but she was young. It was easy enough to imagine that in a few years, the girl would hardly remember Garble existed, much less any desire to be his mate.

“I’m going to sleep,” Slicer mumbled, before skulking his way towards his own little corner.

“Oh. Good night, then.”

She received no answer.

The next day dawned as lonely as ever for Slicer.

Before his life had changed, the young drake hadn’t understood how it is possible to feel so alone while surrounded by others. He’d thought he’d had it bad before, when he was off in a corner mourning his unborn sibling. Little had he known. His family were still there for him back then, and though they’d been just as wrapped up in grief, at least this meant there’d been dragons around who could share these feelings.

Now, there was no-one. Even Scales, and that secret group he’d fallen in with, could only scratch at the surface. And even if there were a few other families in the Dragonlands among whom a parent or child had passed away too soon, they could not know what it was like for him, to have lost everyone so swiftly, so brutally.

Certainly not the Brightcrests, and least of all Ember. The Princess was visibly struggling with the new addition to her family’s home. Her mother had likely put her on her best behavior, and at least she probably felt sorry for his loss. But no way Ember wasn’t a little prickly about no longer being an only child. Sure, she hung out with that Ironscale girl, Smolder, whenever she could. It wasn’t the same as having to share a cave with her.

Stiff and sore from a bad night’s sleep, Slicer took a peek out of the cave’s entrance. Today was a gray, cloudly, miserable day. A typical wintry day in the Dragonlands. If only it had rained, there may be gems to collect. Yet although the clouds looked as if they might eventually burst, the downpour had not come.

“You up already?”

Slicer did not turn around. It was Ember. Yes, he’d got up early, and so had she. Soon after waking, he’d noticed her parents were still fast asleep, tucked together in their spot, with both their tails wrapped around the other.

He’d been unable to stand the sight longer than five seconds. His and Gemstone’s parents had been just like that, the morning after Feast-time. Grown-up dragons snoozing away, momentarily leaving the children to their own devices.

“Yeah. What do you want?”

Ember walked up next to him. He saw she was bristling. Looked as if he’d touched a nerve.

“Oh– nothing much,” she said. “Just wondered if you got any plans.”

Despite the tension, it sounded like Ember was trying to be friendly. Putting in a special effort for Feast-time, he guessed.

“Why?” Slicer asked, leaning a paw against the cave wall. “Weren’t you gonna go spend time with that orange girl, reading books or whatever it is you do?”

“I wanted to.” Ember stared outside, glancing up at the ominous gray sky. “She said it depended on how the weather turned out. If it already rained last night, fine, no problem. But it didn’t. So, no-show.”

“How come?”

“That’s none of your business.”

She must have thought that’d be the end of it, and Slicer would be none the wiser. However, no boy his age was unaware of why rain might be such a big deal, especially for some. He felt himself begin to smirk. It wasn’t nice, he should have sympathized as a boy, and yet right then, he wanted to take it out on someone, anyone.

“It’s because of Garble, isn’t it?” Slicer scoffed. “Everydrake knows he’s got a problem with water.”

Ember turned a little red. “Shut your mouth.”

But Slicer couldn’t hold back. “That’s one mighty Paladin you got there, Princess, if he can’t even handle a bit of rain.”

He’d gone too far. Slicer saw Ember was balling her claws into fists, and her teeth were clenched. Briefly, he wondered if she was really going to punch him.

Worst of all was that, deep down, Slicer might have hoped she would. Yet at great personal effort, given how badly she shook, Ember pulled her punches, having not thrown a single one his way.

“What? You’re not even gonna fight me?”

She took several deep breaths. “I’d like to,” she said, glaring at him. “But Mom would have words. Besides, I’m not going to give you the satisfaction. If you wanna fight me, Slicer– find something else to start a fight about.”

Ember was halfway to turning around and stomping off. Which would have suited Slicer just fine. Except that she then turned back, still glowering.

“And for your information– Paladins wear armor. Wait and see how tough water is once Garble gets his suit of armor!”

Slicer tried not to groan. There she went again.

Get Ember started, and there was no stopping her rambling speeches about what she’d do once she became Dragon Lord. Hah, like that was ever going to happen. The only way Ember could dream of getting the Bloodstone Scepter would be if someone handed it to her. Slicer wondered if Garble ever threw a real punch when they played together. Then again, the Princess probably hid behind Daddy if things got too hard for her. And dragons called Scales a brat. How did Garble tolerate her?

He opted to ignore her, doing a few exercises one of his new friends had assigned, while she pontificated.

After a few hours, Ember’s parents awoke, shutting her up at last. Breakfast was shared, without a word mentioning how the two kids had almost come to blows.

Once all was said and done, Slicer announced he was going out. Nobody stopped him, despite the unpromising weather. Ember might have denied him the satisfaction of one thing, but unlike her, he wasn’t going to spend the whole day stuck in her parents’ cave.

He’d just spend the day alone outside.

Well, Slicer was not quite alone. At least he still had Scales.

For a while, getting back in her good graces had not been smooth sailing. Slicer learned that telling someone who cared about you to essentially jump off a cliff wasn’t the best way to keep them in your corner. He still thought Scales had a funny way of caring, sometimes remembering how their relationship had started, with a single force-fed gem in a quarry. But during the short time he’d spent without her, he’d come to realize what he was missing. He’d acted terribly distant towards her, in those last few weeks at her parents’ cave, then lost touch with her once he moved to the Brightcrests’.

Making up for it had involved telling her how grateful he was for all she’d done, back when he’d only been half as miserable as he was now. That and a rare gem he’d happened upon. She appreciated the Earth Topaz tremendously.

She was a strange girl, Scales. He didn’t think she had many friends, but this wasn’t something she seemed to mind very much. She was perhaps the only girl he knew who’d spend hours primping and preening herself with jewelry outside of gatherings. Back at the Brightcrests’, Slicer had noticed certain drawings made on the cave wall by Ember and Smolder; he wondered if she would enjoy dresses as much as Smolder did.

Outwardly, it was as if nothing had changed for Scales in the Dragonlands. On that level alone, much to his own surprise, Slicer felt comfortable around her. They’d hugged, that night when Slicer’s father flew off to his death, but that was it. No displays of condolence, no signs of pity. If Scales felt deeply, truly sorry about anything, she kept it to herself.

The key was that, contrary to what you’d expect, Scales was a good listener. She may be vain, she may be trying too hard to look regal sitting on her gem-pile, yet she wasn’t full of herself like Ember. In fact, today Scales had been listening quietly, all while Slicer told her about the incident with Ember.

When he finished, there was just one question on her lips.

“Have you fought anyone yet? I can’t imagine how desperate you must be if you tried to get Ember to fight you.”

“No.”

The truth was that Slicer couldn’t recall the last time that he’d fought anyone. At first it was due to pity. For half a year after his family’s deaths, hardly any other drake his age had sought to challenge him over the slightest beryl. Then time went on, and he’d issued a few challenges of his own, but he’d been irritated at how half-heartedly his opponents fought back.

Eventually, some of the guys had decided it was okay to play rough with him again. This made him feel better, for a time.

Today? Something else was going on and he didn’t like it.

“I want to fight someone,” he grumbled.

“Want me to look for someone?”

“They’ll just run off.”

Slicer found the lack of fighting all the more aggravating when he needed it most.

Thal seemed to have taken a liking to him as much as Shard had, and as such, gave him special exercises to do in his free time. Part of him was thankful for it. He had kept in touch with the group, but days could go by without a peep from them. If he was lucky, he would spot Cream Crystalclaw, the only one of these dragons who regularly made a public appearance, and manage to get a quick conversation in. Normally, she would just assure that Shard hadn’t forgotten about him, before hurrying him along.

The group wanted to keep a low profile, yet Slicer had found a clever excuse to talk to Cream as much as she wanted. If anyone asked, he’d simply say his late sister had known her. This appeared to satisfy any curiosity they had.

Speak of the fiend, as his mind wandered, who else should he spot at the bottom of the pit.

“Cream!” Slicer nearly shouted.

The name seemed to set off alarms in Scales’ head. “Cream? Who’s Cream?”

“One of the dragons I met! You know, from that secret group I told you about?”

Although Slicer had been sworn to secrecy about the group, he’d been far more open with Scales than with others. While most adults knew about Cream Crystalclaw, it was better to keep everyone else away from the public eye.

“Look, she’s right there!”

He pointed to the dragon with glittering white gemstones for scales.

“You didn’t mention she was a girl,” Scales grumbled. Slicer had also left out the fact that she was very pretty. He only ever talked about two dragons named Shard and Thal. “Well, she looks busy, so we should–”

Scales was interrupted by the clattering of stones and saw that Slicer had left her to scamper towards the pit. She glared at the crystal dragon.

“Hussy,” she spat, before following her friend down the sloping path.

Clan Crystalclaw could have made the need for healers obsolete, had there been any more of them left.

Alas, Cream’s clan was doomed to forever spawn a single male, and then only as many daughters as they desired. As far as drakes knew, Cream could make her claws and spines majestically shimmer, veiling herself with an air of mystery and beauty. This was not all she could do. That shimmer carried with it just a touch of magic. Nothing like the kind wielded by unicorns. No, hers was more static.

Practically useless when used against an opponent, but not when a whelp took a nasty tumble off a gem pile. Her friends knew she had a magic touch. They just didn’t know that it was her ability.

She finished bandaging up a Firefang whelp, who had a nasty gash on his head. Once the bandages were set, she slid her claws across.

A single touch was all she needed to heal the wound. Her claws faintly glowed, their shine invisible in the light of day, and the whelp seemed to improve immediately.

“There we are, good as new. Now, be more careful when playing King of the Hoard, and please tell your sister she owes me a few gems for the last time you needed fixing up.”

The whelp nodded and scampered away, only for Slicer to take his place.

“Slicer!” Cream exclaimed, brightly. “You finally got back into a scuffle, and need my help?”

“No. Can you take me to Shard? I need to talk to him.”

Cream nearly groaned. But she was cut off by a peculiar sight.

She watched as an adorable pink dragon arrived behind Slicer, growling, her tail slamming against the ground every so often. Classic show of aggression. Likely she’d witnessed her mother or father do it to some other dragon trying to claim an item they’d found first.

But there was more to this. Cream saw it in her eyes. Jealousy, anger, all undercut by the darling look of wrath the girl was giving her. She didn’t know why whelps thought that inflating their cheeks and holding their breath would be threatening, but she wasn’t complaining. Actually, she was struggling not to laugh.

“Slicer–” Cream put her hand over her maw, to stifle a snigger. “Slicer, I’ll be right with you. But first, mind if I talk to your friend in private?”

Slicer gave her a look, before glancing back and spotting Scales. Grumbling, he left them alone.

“So, you must be the famous Scales that Slicer mentioned. My name is Cream Crystalclaw. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Scales didn’t move an inch, save for her tail slamming the ground. Cream merely smirked.

“What’s with that look? Is it because you’re worried I might steal Slicer away from you?”

The girl continued to glare at the older dragon, unafraid.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m already spoken for. Slicer’s all yours.” She leaned in close. “Between you and me, I think he has a crush on you.”

Scales’ cheeks flushed, her expression breaking at last.

“W-well, good! He should! I’m a beautiful flower, after all.” She looked back towards Slicer, who was waiting for them to finish. “Just bring him back safe after whatever it is he needs.”

Cream assured her she would do just that.

Was there anything that he’d overlooked?

Shard kept going over events in his head. He was keeping an eye on the Dragonlands, but he checked his other prospects periodically.

The Changeling Hive was still functioning, not that anyone could get close without their magic locking up. Trying to communicate with the Hive was a pain, especially if he wanted to send Elden, whose magic made him a valuable member of their team. Perhaps Surr would be better, if only he could be ensured not to kill someone of value, like Pharynx. A pity that Pharynx and Thorax were a package deal. Shard would have loved to get Surr to snap that weakling’s neck.

The Storm King, or Frost Monarch as he was known at this time, was likely prepping a ship for a future scouting mission. One armed with a few cages, nets, and disciplinary tools. Oh, Shard felt excited for that little adventure. He could barely contain his glee. But he needed to make sure the Storm King was kept safe once things fell through, and that his group could be seen as potential allies. That would be easy. Each of his comrade’s abilities rivaled the Mythic Dragons of old, if not surpassed their abilities. A demonstration was all it would take to sway the Storm King to his side. There was also the matter of Tempest, or Fizzlepop Berrytwist. If only he’d had his father’s old scrolls, he could have restored her horn and simply set the payment at serving the Storm King, until the time was right. A pity they were lost time.

There were the Pillars of Equestria. Should he obtain the barrel which Sunburst was supposed to buy and then send it to his door? It would remove chance from the equation. Time and fate were fickle creatures, after all. Some no-name could come along early and snipe it. Then what? He’d lose Stygian, and Elden wouldn’t get to throttle Flash Magnus like he so dreamed of doing.

And what about Cozy Glow? He needed to send someone to check in on her.

All of those were worries for later. The first three took priority, and that meant focusing on getting Garble on his side first. It wouldn’t be long now. Once two more winters had passed, at the start of the following spring, Garble would start his molt. The lynchpin that would burn all of Equestria to the ground. Cozy Glow could wait. So could the Pillars and Stygian. After all, what more fitting fate was there, than for seven idiots to spend eternity trapped in a hell of their own making?

“Shard.”

He turned, pulled away from his thoughts.

“Cream, and Slicer,” Shard greeted them with a smile. “What brings the two of you here? An emergency, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Shard was not unreasonable, nor was he cruel. Not without cause, of course. While Slicer needed guidance, Shard himself needed to stay unnoticed until the right time. Slicer, and meddling in affairs in general, brought unwanted attention. So there was a rule in place where Slicer could seek him out only in case of an emergency.

“I want to go to Equestria, and tell the Princess I forgive her.”

Shard could clearly tell what the boy just said was a lie, but he had to wonder why he was doing so.

“Slicer, if this is your idea of a joke, it’s in incredibly poor taste,” Shard said in a very flat tone. “I’m open to talk when you need me, but spouting off complete nonsense is a waste of time. I refuse to engage when you waste my time. ”

Shard went to turn back around, but was shocked when Slicer ran up and hugged him. Shard didn't tip toe around him, he was blunt to the point.

An unexpected gesture, to be sure. Yet not one he minded. He patted Slicer on the head. “Very well. Why not tell me what’s really on your mind?”

Slicer did just that. Shard sat quietly, his fingers interlocked, with one claw absent-mindedly tapping his knuckle. He was thankful Slicer had come to him. Sent to live with the Dragon Lord in person. Who knew the damage Torch could have caused. Fortunately, everyone treated Slicer like an outsider, so who else could he turn to other than their group?

“That is quite the predicament,” he finally said. “First we need to ask, why is Torch doing this?”

“I don’t know. For show, I guess. He doesn’t seem to like me all that much.”

“Oh, liking you has nothing to do with it. It’s simple, Slicer, he wants you to fall in line. He wants to break your sense of justice. He’s afraid that you’ll lose control of yourself, do something stupid, and get yourself killed. He has a point, you know. You’re young, emotional from everything that’s happened. It’s not out of the ordinary for a child to lash out.”

“I’m not like that at all! I always think before I do anything.”

“Slicer, when Elden first brought you to us, your plan was to swim to Equestria and assassinate Princess Celestia– who holds enough power to move the sun, a creation of the god Asgorath, the progenitor of dragonkind. I care for you, dear boy, but I will not lie and say you are not impetuous. First, you need to hide your hate and control it. Do not let your feelings about ponies come to light. Next up, you need to find an outlet for your aggression. If things become too much, have Cream escort you to Thal, or me if I’m available. We can spar. I cannot promise we’ll always be available right away, but if you call, we’ll answer as soon as we can.”

“What about everyone else?”

“If full-grown dragons feel the need to treat you as a pariah, let them,” Shard said. “If they cannot see your worth because of your family, they are not worth your time. Dragons should judge dragons by their actions. Not their words, not the actions of their relatives, not stupid hypotheticals they cooked up in their heads. What matters, Slicer, is what you do, regardless of what others say. You can wallow in self-pity, or you can take that frustration and channel it into something productive. That being said, treasure those that remain at your side. If they are able to see your worth, you’d do best to see theirs.”

“Thanks, Shard.”

“Anytime, dear boy. One more thing– talk to Torch, see if he can’t help straighten things out for you. You shouldn’t have to be left friendless because some overbearing parents think you mad. He may be scum, but even scum has its uses.”

Slicer paused for a moment. “Shard, I know I should just ignore her, I mean, everyone knows Ember’s annoying. But she’s not who you say is going to be Dragon Lord, right?”

The name brought a fury to Shard, as well as the thought of her becoming Dragon Lord. “I can say without exaggeration, that I’d sooner die than knowingly make that bloviating brat Dragon Lord. You are a lion, Slicer, and lions do not concern themselves with the bleating of sheep.”

He got down to Slicer’s level to make sure he was heard.

“Let me tell you about Ember Brightcrest, so you know where you stand compared to her. She’s an entitled, spoiled also-ran. Everything her father says about her is not only correct– I would consider it an understatement. She is enslaved to her emotions and vastly overestimates her abilities. Believe me when I say, if she is so much as poked, she crumbles, and I will spare you my diatribe regarding her countless insecurities. The only way she can beat anyone is if they go easy on her, while she receives every magical buff she can from disgusting, impotent little halfbreeds.”

Shard paused, and took a deep breath before continuing.

“Just let her pontificate. She’s a fool. The thing about fools is that if you engage them, they will drag you down to their level and defeat you with a lifetime of experience.”

Maybe, just maybe if she was lucky, Ember could do the one thing she seemed to be good at in the future, and keep someone's bed warm.

“Do you hate Ember?” Slicer asked.

“Hate cannot begin to explain my vitriol towards her. There was one dragon I despised even more, but he died some years ago.”

“What did he do?” Slicer asked.

“Nothing too bad, he just consorted with ponies, disgraced everything dragons stood for, and oh! Planned to install a Dragon Lord of his own choosing, to have these lands bow before Equestria. Wouldn’t that have been fun to witness?”

“He’s dead, right?” Slicer asked with a growl.

“Stone dead. For the best, in my opinion. His clan ability wasn’t just powerful, it’s terrifying when you think about the implications. He could very well collapse societies with his power.” Shard chuckled. “The worst part? I don’t think for a moment he’d have been aware he was even using his ability. There’s nothing more terrifying than a fool with power.”

“And the dragon they planned to use?”

“Oh, without him, even if they won, the idea wouldn’t cross their mind.”

“Do they have a name?” Slicer asked.

“They do, but you don’t need to know it. Remember, Slicer, judge dragons by their actions, not what might be.”

Slicer was about to argue, but took a deep breath. He calmed himself. “Understood, thank you.”

“Run along now.”

Slicer scampered off, and Shard turned his attention to a special dragon.

“You did good, bringing him here, Cream. Keep up the good work.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before sending her after Slicer. For Cream, a simple kiss like that was all she wanted out of this.

A little later, Cream and Slicer were walking away, the boy deep in thought.

A dragon who’d betray his kind for ponies. One with an ability so powerful, it could destroy societies without the dragon knowing he was doing it.

“What kind of ability can destroy society?” Slicer asked after a short while. He felt like he knew what the word meant, but asked just in case. “Society means how we live, right?”

“For brevity’s sake, it does. As for the ability, that’s something Shard never talked about much,” Cream shrugged. “I think he was scared that we may have tried to recruit him to our cause if we knew what it was, instead of doing what needed to be done. I did ask him why we couldn’t try and he said that everything in creation has a certain nature about it. A snake will always be a snake, a bird will always be a bird, and the dragon he talked about will always be drawn to Equestria. Even if it’s the most useful ability in the world, his nature was the issue.”

“So, not even you know what it was called?”

“No. All he said was that any dragon with his ability was dangerous. Elden mulled over the possibilities. He thought it had to be a mythic ability. Problem is, the dragon was male, so that can’t be the case. Quite the mystery, isn’t it? If Shard is keeping it to himself, I trust it’s for a good reason.”

Cream knelt and looked him over, checking that nothing was out of place.

“We’re almost back. Remember what Shard said, alright? Oh, and gems are one thing, but make sure to tell your little friend you appreciate her every once in a while. Okay?”

Slicer nodded, understanding just what she meant.

Over the next two years, life returned to normal for Slicer, albeit reluctantly.

Week after week, month after month, Thal made sure to whip him into shape. His lessons mainly consisted of sparring, learning how to exploit an opponent’s weak point, or outlasting the other fighter if such a thing wasn’t available. Slicer collected many bruises in that time, yet Thal’s true lesson was simple. The greatest enemy would not be another’s strength, but his own weakness. For even the strongest are beset by limitations. It was vital that Slicer learn to overcome them.

Thus, besides the moves to use in battle, Slicer was taught endurance. He felt sure Thal would have put him through trials that could have killed him, had Shard not been there and paying close attention during their lessons. If Shard was unavailable, then Thal simply wasn’t allowed near Slicer, much to the whelp’s chagrin. As it was, these lessons were borderline sadistic, or so it seemed to Shard whenever the lad reached the cusp of exhaustion.

With Thal as a teacher, lifting boulders and holding them over one’s head merely counted as basic training. Trying to carry enough stone to build a cairn, for dozens upon dozens of miles, up the steepest of pathways, was merely a warm-up. Their real practice was when they came to blows. He made sure that Slicer knew how to throw a punch and how to take one.

Not to mention the countless balancing exercises. Slicer’s least favorite of these consisted of him standing atop a stone pillar, on one leg, his arms outstretched, for as long until Thal gave him permission to leave. Maintaining his equilibrium was something it took forever to learn, when the slightest gust of wind could make him fall. He did ask Thal why this was necessary, only for the dragon to shrug, and say that one of his compatriots suggested it.

Thal gave him plenty of incentive not to fall, however. Surrounding the stone pillar were some of the sharpest, pointiest rocks to be found anywhere in the Dragonlands. But Shard put his foot down at this, and had them removed. Just because Slicer had thick scales didn’t mean this couldn’t hurt like Tartarus if he fell. If he’d been unlucky, he might even have lost an eye like Torch, or worse.

“For once, try and use whatever is rolling about in that thick skull of yours!” Shard ordered Thal.

Such training very often resulted in Slicer trudging back, battered and bruised, to the group’s hideout in the evenings. It was only thanks to Cream’s unique healing abilities, administered only after she chewed out Thal for being “irresponsible and borderline cruel”, that he’d be fixed up and all good to go the next day, leaving none of the Brightcrests or other dragons any the wiser as to what he got up to.

It was hard, but that was what Thal thought Slicer needed. His philosophy was one of pure strength. Might makes right, as Shard explained it. It did not matter to him if a group was moral, wise, intelligent, or charismatic, just so long as they were strong. Yes, the topaz dragon was a hard, tough teacher, nevertheless, the results spoke for themselves. Had Slicer been able to spend all the year round under Thal’s tutelage, had the group not needed to stay hidden, then he would have strode forward thrice as fast.

What helped was that Thal was not Slicer’s only teacher. The one named Surr, under the watchful eye of Shard, took over the duty of teaching him to hunt and survive in the wild, while Shard tried to teach the boy strategy.

Slicer was slow at first. It was like trying a new muscle. Over the years, he started to notice things. Spike Ironscale, with his pet phoenix, a weapon no-one else had. Or when Smolder Ironscale fought, the way she kept using feints, which others thought of as cheating, including Slicer. Still, most children fell back on brute force, but some of them never came close to those that could think on their feet. Once in a while, they’d pull out a trick once their back was against the wall, yet usually, the one who punched hardest was the one who won.

Perhaps if he tried to learn some tricks of his own, he could reach heights he’d never thought possible. He certainly rose in the ranks, but he was nowhere near what some considered the top ten. Arrow Firefang beat him time and again, none of their fights being particularly close. Then there was Garble. Slicer did not know what was more irritating. The fact that no matter how hard he pushed himself, Garble always remained ahead of him. Or how nonchalant Garble would be about their fights. He was laughing by the time it was over. Shard assured him there was no real shame in that defeat, and that his laughter was merely a child enjoying a good brawl. It didn’t keep Slicer from thinking that Garble was laughing at him at times. But it was nothing compared to the constant stream of praise from Garble’s little brother.

‘My brother is so awesome. My brother is amazing. My brother’s the strongest dragon there is!’

Perhaps Spike was related to Ember.

‘Like Garble would lose to you. He’s my Paladin after all, he needs to be unbeatable for the most part. Paladin this, Paladin that.’

He would have complained about Spike to Shard on a multitude of occasions, but then he remembered that he was a lion, thus he did not care for the bleating of a lamb. The only one who seemed to be on his side now was Scales, shockingly enough.

‘He has to be cheating!’ she would say. ‘If you could use your claws, you’d win without breaking a sweat! Garble’s lucky you’ve got to handicap yourself.’

He never forgot to let her know how much that meant to him. It invariably earned him a kind, genuine smile. It was a very nice smile.

Just like the one Scales was sporting now, as she approached him out of the crowd of young dragons, carrying a gem between her thumb and forefinger.

Like the rest of their age group, Scales had grown over the years. Not by much. The girl was still recognisably herself, with the lithe pink frame and striped horns. And yet for reasons Slicer found hard to explain, he was appreciating the look of her in ways he hadn’t before.

Of course, Princess Ember did not care much for Scales. Never had a kind word to say about her. More likely than not, Ember would have a few choice things to say over in the cave if she saw them together. He paid her no mind. Clan Brightcrest may house him for now, but he would forever be a Steelspine. And although he’d lost his family, he had gained a new one, headed by Shard Obsidian.