The Life and Times of the Equestrian Dragon

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Magic is all around us. But it goes unseen, invisible to most mortals. There is a delicate separation between the two realms, between mythical creatures and humanity. They must exist side by side and in perfect harmony. But there is great wickedness in this world, a dark force that seeks to upset that fragile balance. And I am the only one that can keep the evil at bay.

Long before recorded history, humanity faced an evil of unimaginable power. And since the dawn of time, I have moved secretly through the centuries. Living many lives, struggling to reach the time when the few who remain will battle to the last. No one has ever known I was among you... until now.

This is my territory, and I alone am responsible for the many magical creatures living within it. From the centaur, centauress and centaurette herds of Vanhoover, to the floor of the secret Leprechaun Stock Exchange in Manehattan, from the gargoyle nests high atop the Chrystaller Building, to the kelpies of San Franciscolt, North Califoalnia and Horseolulu, Haywaii. I am their guardian and their protector.

My name is Master Kebroath Gilspotten Heathspike, and I am the Equestrian Dragon.

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All this has happened before, and it will probably happen again, but this time it happened in Equestria, a special place in the time and the life of a male purple dragon. And tucked away, deep in the heartland of Equestria, was a community rich in tradition.

It was here that the dragon made his home.

And he chose this particular place because there were people here who believed in him.

The day was August 17, 1998.

It was a Monday.

A black and white police car slowly crept through the Business District of New Canterlot City; a conurbation of tall buildings and large skyscrapers, asphalt streets and electric lampposts.

The squad car had push bars, lights, antennas and a spotlight mounted on the windshield pillar; hemmed in with radio consoles and a laptop terminal on a bracket, and the laptop screens showed GPS maps of the city. The doors had a silver shield painted on them with New Canterlot Police Department scrolled across the middle. To Protect was written at the top of the escutcheon, with And Serve added at the bottom. The two officers inside--Windstorm and Valkyrie--both had long, light hair tied back, black uniforms and gold badges pinned over their left breasts. They were fit, lean, tanned, athletic, neat and tidy.

The car went slow--barely 20 miles an hour--as Valkyrie, the one in the passenger seat, reached for the radio.

“This is Car 54 with our second sweep of Sector 12,” she reported in, clearly and calmly.

“Go ahead, 54,” the female dispatcher answered. “What’s your status?”

“All clear here, dispatch. Re-engaging for another pass,”

“Roger that, 54. Hey, you see him tonight?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, not tonight. We’ve got no sign of the Equestrian Dragon,”

“All right, you let me know if you see him, will you?”

The officers didn’t reply and continued with their patrol.

Ever since the dawn of Time, dragons were rarely seen—sometimes whole centuries went by without even a single sighting—but when they did appear, they made their presence known immediately. They would lay waste to entire civilizations, and then take up residence in a highly visible location, as if provoking humanity to retaliate. And this new “Equestrian Dragon” was an infuriating enigma to say the least, having been spotted in every major city from Fillydelphia to Applewood in southern Califoalnia.

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At that same moment, high on a hilltop overlooking the peaceful countryside stood a majestic castle, one of the most spectacular estates anywhere in the world. And within those colossal walls, a muscular male awoke. He was tall, six-foot-two, strong, with broad shoulders, chiseled features, and dark hair.

Rising from his large four-poster bed with blue draperies (which hung high above, creating a deep shadow over the pillows), carefully as not to disturb her, Spike Zenith reached in the dark for a black T-shirt and blue jeans. He pulled them on, thankful that his dark-colored clothes blended in with the shadows, and quietly made his way to the Prench doors that opened out onto his balcony. Easing them open carefully, Spike grimaced a bit at the squeaking noise they made and glanced back towards his bed.

One of his companions, Celestia Soleil, was sleeping, snoring softly, not even two feet away, and he didn’t want to wake her up. Her steady breathing told him that she was in deep slumber. Then she murmured something in her sleep, like she was having a conversation with herself. It was not the first time he had seen her (or her sister) do that, so it didn’t take him by surprise. She turned over on her side, away from him. A sigh of relief escaped from between Spike’s lips and he stepped out onto the balcony.

“I’ll be back before she wakes up in the morning,” he thought.

Celestia and her sister Luna were nice and all, but Spike was not sure he had much in common with them. From what he had seen, their world had seemed perfect. Ever since he first met them, many centuries ago, they had friends, fans, admirers, and they had him, the ideal life. But they had gone out of their way to be nice to him. It could have been because of his great wealth, but Spike didn’t think so. He really thought they were genuinely good women. He didn’t have time for friends, but if he did, they would be a good place to start.

The master bedroom, his bedroom, was on the fourth floor of his castle estate, so the drop to the gravel driveway below wasn’t really an option. He had thought about exiting through one of the many skylights in the roof and giving himself a moment to look out at the city in the distance—New Canterlot. Unfortunately, the city streets were too well lit for his purposes that night. He looked across the roof to the fire escape on the far end of the castle, to the West, over the fields to the forest beyond. And then Spike half-crouched, lowered his fist toward the ground.

Suddenly, a series of purple and green reptilian scales began to take form and creep up and down his arms and legs, covering his body in a sleek and smooth coat. The scales coated Spike’s shoulders then moved up his neck. They covered Spike’s chin and crept to his mouth and nose, which contorted and extended into a sharp snout. The fingers on his hands and the toes on his feet shot out and transformed into long, talon-like claws with very sharp points while a long, lizard-like tail protruded from where his lower back and his glutes met. As his body was changing, his clothes disappeared, and Spike said a silent thank you for Elven magic, knowing that they would return when he would transform back. He was every bit the dragon he had been born, including the bold confidence that came from a dragon’s strength. He rotated his head atop his long, sinuous neck; vertebrae cracked, and then he lowered his head.

Finally, a pair of huge, leathery, bat-like wings shot out from his upper back. They started flapping and he took off from the balcony and flew over the pastures, through the night sky. The clouds curled away from his speeding form as he skimmed above them. He twisted upward and hovered with the full moon’s clear light shining on him. His wings fanned out from his back like a frozen cape. Then he rocketed down, pulling a huge funnel of clouds down behind him. It might have only been a few days since he last transformed, but somehow, it didn’t seem like days, or even months or a few years. His body felt rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in centuries.

Four minutes later and he was in the woods—five miles into Unicorn territory. He knew it was their domain because of the glyphs that had been scratched into the bark of trees, signifying that the area was under their protection as well as Spike’s.

Unicorns were celestial creatures that wandered the realms, warding away evil and preserving and protecting sacred places like the enchanted forests they dwelled in. And-- unrelated to the horses they resembled--they sported a single spiraling horn that protruded from its brow, whose magical touch could heal the sick and injured. Their ears caught the words and whispers of the creatures that shared their domain, and they knew the languages of elves.

A unicorn’s forest was a place where nothing escaped their notice. They heard each tune sung by the birds that resided amid the treetops, and they sensed where every caterpillar spun its cocoon and each leaf and branch where a tired butterfly rested its wings. From wolves and foxes to birds, squirrels and tiny insects, the creatures of a unicorn’s domain seemed quite tame. Under the unicorn’s protection, they felt safe from outside threats.

They allowed good-hearted creatures to enter their woods to hunt and gather food, but they held evil at bay. Foul-hearted creatures seldom left a unicorn’s domain alive.

His plan was to start off with an hour of running. After that, he would work on his karate, then try a bit of meditation and observation. There was a clear, full moon shining through the trees, so the forest was a bit brighter than he’d hoped it would be. But the light was not really an issue for him. It was still very warm for the middle of August, and it reminded him of the day he was born.

Spike was not born in Equestria. In fact, his parents came from across the Celestial Sea. His mother was from the mainland of the old continent, somewhere between Germaney and Prance. His father was from Loch Neighss, masquerading as a shepherd.

It was a hot and dry day in July – 4:32 in the morning to be exact – in the Scolttish Highlands, when Kebroath Gilspotten Heathspike came into this world. Great name, I know. Dragons believed that a good, strong name would frighten off gnolls and ogres... as if their fearsome demeanor wouldn’t do that. Spike, as he was more commonly known, was the long-awaited first (and only) child of Locke and Barb Zenith; and at ten stones exactly (fourteen pounds per stone), was proclaimed the handsomest baby dragon in the world.

From the moment they were hatched, Dragons had been fending for themselves... and Spike was no exception. He was a born fighter, destined for greatness. But even though dragons came into the world fighting, Spike was born into a life of great wealth, prestige, power and privilege. And yet he was assuredly his parents’ most valuable treasure. Unlike human babies, dragons could walk as soon as they were born, and Spike had learned to climb when he was only a week old.

A sea serpent, and brother of the infamous Loch Neighss Monster (“Nessie” they called her—who bore a great physical resemblance to the now extinct Plesiosaur), fell in love with a blazing winged dragoness. Some say that when that sea serpent was still just a hatchling, he popped a Highlander’s head clean off his shoulders. Do I believe that? Yes. Yes I do. Taking human form, the sea serpent and the dragoness courted and he stayed by her side for two centuries, and long after she gave birth to a son. From the day Spike left the nest, his mother and father undertook to show their son all that was good in life. Although Spike’s father spent countless hours overseeing his vast, ever-growing horde and empire, he still found time to share simple pleasures with his son. Language and writing were made available, from poetry to philosophy, and he also came to know the pleasantness of female company.

Most of Spike’s knowledge came from books, he spoke over seventeen thousand languages, and he excelled in history, science, mathematics and literature. As he grew, Spike developed a keen interest in the creation and development of several key athletic events. He had everything a male dragon could want. Although at the age of three years, his flying skills left something to be desired. With combat training and various forms of martial arts, however, Spike displayed quite a precocious talent; which (as the years progressed) become more than just a favorite pastime. Truly, there never was a dragon with a more headstrong disposition... or a more spirited sense of honor and fair play.

After Locke and Barb married and she give birth to Spike, they settled in Scoltland after the Wars of Scoltish Independence. It wasn’t until sometime after, when Spike got separated from them, that he claimed Pendragon Castle as his own and had it moved stone by stone to Equestria, where he had lived ever since.

The Equestrian Dragon was broken from his thoughts by a ringing that came from the military-grade hands-free device that hung on his right ear. He was getting a phone call from his other companion. A mere thought allowed him to answer the device and the holographic image of a woman’s face appeared before his eyes.

“Yes, Luna?” he asked.

Luna was a beautiful woman, but she was nothing next to her sister. Celestia had a light in her eyes so warm that it made Luna just about invisible sometimes.

“I have a question that simply will not wait, Sir,” she began.

“Which is?” the Equestrian Dragon asked.

“I was inquiring as to what suit Spike Zenith might need pressed for his meetings tomorrow,” she said.

“And that couldn’t wait?” His tone was embittered.

“These are the things that keep me up at night, Spike,” Luna told him.

“Was there anything else, Luna?”

“I was wondering how long your training would go,” she said. “I’ve made Coq au vin.”

The Equestrian Dragon gagged slightly after sniffing the air.

“Looks like I’ll be late,” he growled softly. “I’ve got work to do.” The Equestrian Dragon growled again after he ended the call. “Tirek!”

He recognized that demonic centaur’s foul stench anywhere.

“What’s he doing here?” he asked himself in thought.

Looking at the ground, the Equestrian Dragon slowly began to put the pieces together: the centaur’s cloven hoof prints headed north from south on the night of a full moon. And they were in a forest that was home to a herd of unicorns.

The Equestrian Dragon inhaled sharply. “He’s hunting them!”

He knew unicorns were majestic beasts; a unicorn’s horn was the focus of its power. A shard of divine magic, it’s what gave them their magical abilities... and because unicorn horns were the equivalent of ivory in the magical world, they were an extremely valuable commodity on the Magical Black Market.
Suddenly, the Equestrian Dragon heard a twig snap on the ground behind him. He ducked behind a tree as quickly as he could. Then he heard a voice about four yards away. He couldn’t make out the words, and as the voice came closer, he took a chance and peaked low, above the grass line. He recognized the demonic centaur--a horse’s body, cloven hooves, with dark red skin and a black furred torso, white hair, a goatee beard, curved, dark horns atop a bull-like head, and muscular, like all centaurs, he was an intimidating sight.

He was treading to a clearing up ahead; a pair of white unicorns with pale manes and tails were drinking from a pond at its center. Tirek cautiously moved from tree to tree until he was a few short yards from them. The Equestrian Dragon had seen a lone unicorn hold its own against a pack of six Timberwolves, but Tirek was a force to be reckoned with. He had to help them.

“Now, you shall add to my power,” Tirek said.

The Equestrian Dragon narrowed his eyes as he crept through the trees.

“Taste my Dragon Breath, dirt bag!” he growled.

He grunted and exhaled a stream of emerald green fire, which startled Tirek and distracted him long enough for the unicorns to gallop away to safety. The Equestrian Dragon could hear Tirek cursing as the two unicorns ran.

Perturbed at his prey escaping, Tirek turned his anger on his attacker.

“Dragon magic...” he thought, “... even better!”

“You’re not going anywhere, Tirek!” the Equestrian Dragon stated.

“That’s Lord Tirek!” he bellowed. “And who’s going to stop me, you?”

The Equestrian Dragon padded forward, glaring, as Tirek glowered, two fangs jutting from his upper jaw. The Equestrian Dragon breathed fire at Tirek again, knocking the demonic centaur back. The villain ducked and dodged more of the Equestrian Dragon’s fireballs; he even deflected some of them with the silver gauntlets on his arms, before conjuring an orange energy orb from between his horns. The orb grew to the size of a boulder and Tirek took aim. The Equestrian Dragon ducked under the blast, which burned a line through the trees behind him, and Lord Tirek charged.

“What?” the Equestrian Dragon thought. “You’re not tired? You just burned own a mile and a half of forest!”

He evaded Tirek’s fists and flew into the trees before bursting back out again and spitting a fireball that hit Tirek square in the chest. Tirek stumbled back and shot more fiery beams from between his horns, and two of them struck the Equestrian Dragon to the ground. With a smirk, Tirek conjured another flaming orb, which hovered above his right hand, but the Equestrian Dragon got back up and dodged the attack.

“You’re going to have to be a lot quicker than that!” the Dragon shouted.

Suddenly, something struck the Equestrian Dragon from behind, knocking him back to the ground. It was a pale pink Pegasus with a curly blue mane and tail!

“What the-?! What’s a Pegasus doing helping Tirek?” the Dragon thought.

The pink Pegasus positioned herself between Lord Tirek and the Equestrian Dragon, and she gave the latter a hateful glare as he slowly got up.

“You wanna go?” the Equestrian Dragon shouted at her. “Is that what you want?! Well, let’s go then!!”

The Equestrian Dragon flew at the pink Pegasus and kicked her across her muzzle, stunning her, before ricocheting off a tree, back towards Tirek. He grabbed the centaur by his horns and slammed him forward into a cluster of hanging vines, which tangled around his horns like a Cat’s cradle. One of the vines had wrapped around Tirek’s left wrist, which the Equestrian Dragon (now standing on the evil centaur’s head) pulled on like a puppet string, and made Tirek repeatedly punch himself in the face with it.

“Why are you hitting yourself?” he asked. “Why? Why? Why? WHY!?!”

After eight solid punches, Tirek was in a daze, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, which gave the Equestrian Dragon the opportunity he needed. Tirek wobbled and fell forward, flat on his face. Then the Equestrian Dragon rode Tirek’s head like a surfboard down the cliff, impaling the centaur’s horns through two different trees.

“Had enough yet, Rhino-Rump?!” the Equestrian Dragon shouted.

Instead of simply pulling his horns free, Tirek tore the trees from the ground, right down to their roots, and tossed them aside, freeing himself.

“Seriously?” the Equestrian Dragon thought. “All that and you’re still not winded?”

Tirek was about to charge up another energy attack when something small and sharp flew past him—barely an inch from his face—and sank into the trunk of the tree beside him, and the demonic centaur turned to see what it was.

It was a knife. Then Tirek, the pink Pegasus and the Equestrian Dragon all looked up, into the trees, where it had been thrown from, and they saw a female figure with pale violet eyes, clad in white from head to toe. More knives were tucked into her robes and she carried a sword at her hip.

“Aww, you started without me,” she mock pouted.

She somersaulted off the branch that she had been perched on, and stuck the landing on the ground, next to the Equestrian Dragon, whom she stood alongside.

“This is not over, Dragon!” Tirek swore as he and his Pegasus sidekick disappeared in a blazing inferno.

“That’s right, you better run!” the newcomer shouted as the blaze went out. “If we catch you in this forest again, you will wish we’d finished this here!”

Once she was certain that their enemies were gone, the woman removed her mask, revealing a porcelain face and a mane of long, light hair. She turned just in time to see the Equestrian Dragon shooting a brief glance at the woman he knew as Fleur de Lis.

One of New Canterlot’s socialites, Spike met Fleur the way he met most people: not in a board room, or a bar, or in the back of a limousine somewhere, but in a prison, where they both fought to survive. She enjoyed being the center of attention, but she used her high position on the social ladder to draw that attention to the charity efforts she supported.

“I didn’t need your help,” he grunted. “I was doing just fine.”

“I thought that’s why you asked me to join you on these little outings,” Fleur replied. “Spike, when are you going to learn you don’t have to go it alone?”

But he didn’t listen; presently, all his attention was focused on getting home.

Already he could picture the dragon-sized bed in his master bedroom, slipping between the sheets buck naked, burrowing into the warmth of the down comforter.

“Tomorrow, I’m stepping up my training,” the Equestrian Dragon told himself.

“That was a weird team-up, wasn’t it?” Fleur asked.

“Them? Or us?” he countered and he flew back to his castle.

Fleur raised an eyebrow, smiled, and said, “Touché.”

Once the Equestrian Dragon touched down on his balcony, a ball of emerald fire enveloped him as he transformed back into his human form. His wings retracted back into his shoulder blades, and his purple and green scales faded away. Then the Dragon’s snout, claws and tail shrank and curtailed until they were a human nose, mouth and chin, fingers and hands, and toes and feet once more. His clothes also reappeared, but were quickly discarded when he climbed back through the balcony doors and he heard Celestia stir in her sleep.

He lay down in his bed and closed his eyes.