The Life and Times of the Equestrian Dragon

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Spike Zenith’s days always started at 4:27 a.m. sharp. He was awakened by a gentle nuzzle from a gray wolf named Sandra, who rested at the foot of his bed.

As he slept, Spike was overcome by a feeling that there was something outside of his window... just standing there on the balcony, someone watching, and waiting for him. Of course, he knew that was impossible. He knew there was nothing there. Still, the feeling remained. He couldn’t help but look... And when he woke up, he regretted it. It was always the same thing.

Outside, Milky Way, the milkmaid from Trottingham—a beautiful woman with enormous breasts—jogged back to her truck, three empty glass milk bottles in her hands, and drove away. Back inside, Sandra whimpered as she shook her head and got out of bed.

Using her nose, she pushed the door to the master bathroom open and walked in. Then, using her paw, she turned the faucet, turning the water on, and pulled the shower curtain closed with her teeth. She returned to Spike’s bed, dragged the covers off Spike, and nuzzled him again.

After Sandra woke him, Spike groggily rolled over in his bed and reached to turn off the radio on his military-grade alarm clock.

“The biggest move of the day, Zenith Industries. The stock is up $8.63, sparked by reports that Spike Zenith intends to purchase a prime section of Downtown Applewood real estate...” a voice reported over it.

Lacking the sharp night vision he had--and enjoyed--in his dragon form, Spike lay back down for a moment and glanced down at himself before finally getting out of bed and locking himself in his bathroom.

He had slept alone the remainder of the night, but his bedroom door wasn’t locked, and he thought that his companions might try to walk in on him. He needed breakfast, but first he needed to bathe. Then he would need to find some clean clothes. As Spike took a long, hot shower, he couldn’t stop thinking about Tirek and his pink Pegasus sidekick. He unlocked the bathroom after brushing his teeth and looking himself in the mirror; more specifically, looking himself in the eyes. They were the same fiery emerald color they’d always been.

He told the maid to not make up his bed then he walked across his bedroom to the touch-screen computer (the very first of its kind) next to his walk-in closet to pick out his clothes--always a tough decision. Dragons didn’t need such silly accoutrements; humans did. He browsed through its databanks, through images of dozens of neckties, collared shirts and pressed pants, lining them up to create an ensemble. He kept browsing until he finally came across a black leather jacket and navy blue Wranglers.

It felt like a black leather kind of day.

Adding in accessories, the program dressed up a three-dimensional image of Spike and selected the clothes from his wardrobe’s automated conveyor system. The racks in his wardrobe revolved electronically, past the dozens of nearly identical black suits that hung side-by-side, until they receded into one dozen identical black leather jackets. He slid a black T-shirt over his head, the short sleeves clung to his well-defined biceps; followed by a pair of black socks, the jeans, black boots, and then he buckled his belt. He finger-combed his hair and exited the walk-in, walked back through his room, and downstairs to the kitchen. It was warm.

Celestia Soleil, a glamorous woman with long flowing hair and dressed in a transparent white lace nightgown, was flipping pancakes—tossing them high into the air and catching them without looking—while making a long shopping list and watching a recording of one of Spike’s old late night television interviews with Dr. Hearthswarmer in Neigh York. Spike had known Dr. Hearthswarmer since she was a sniper in the army... but that was a long, long time ago. Back then, he had known her (and called her) by her codename: “Hot Lips.”

“I have just two words to say about our guest tonight: Spike Zenith,” her co-host said.

“That sexy man, Spike Zenith? On my show? Right here? And I can touch him? Kiss him, maybe? Fabulous!”

Needless to say, the good doctor was ecstatic.

“You know, not only is he one of the biggest names in the world, he’s dated the most beautiful women across Equestria, he owns a baseball team, his own dinner theatre, a series of restaurants, his own corporation, and he’s still an eligible bachelor,” her co-host said. “And speaking of bachelors, census reports tell us that there are 21 billion more singles now then there were in the 1970’s, and somebody designed a convention specifically for them: the Single in Neigh York Exhibition.”

Every word he said was true, especially about Spike.

When Spike wasn’t fighting magical creatures by night, he was the head of his own organization by day. As well as being a rare antiquities dealer and an expert on ancient artifacts, Spike was a semi-professional archaeologist, a world-class treasure hunter, a lawyer, honorary volunteer firefighter, the owner of the city’s largest manufacturing corporation, a notorious businessman, a soldier-turned-mercenary, medical doctor, a successful male model, a spokesman for several big name products, an international sex god and a world-renowned professional fighter. Many people found him scary, even terrifying, but that was mostly because he got no less than a thousand bucks an hour just to fight other people.

Spike didn’t pay much attention to the T.V., at least not at first. Instead, he noticed a plate of center cut hickory smoked bacon and scrambled eggs, and a bowl of grapes, strawberries and sliced apples on the kitchen table, and a note right next to them.

In an effort to inspire the all-important Equestrian Dragon to take time out of his busy schedule and actually consume a reasonable amount of sustenance, I have taken the liberty of composing a menu for today’s scheduled meals. It is my high hope that these elegantly prepared courses will not share the fate of their predecessors: resting cold and untouched on a computer console. - Luna

Spike then glanced at the menu she had made.

Breakfast: six scrambled eggs, bacon, mixed fresh fruit bowl, freshly squeezed orange juice (no pulp) and whole milk.

Lunch: chicken breast and thigh with garlic seasoning, oven-baked golden herb potato, and streamed broccoli.

Dinner: sirloin steak, asparagus with garlic butter, and roasted red pepper soup with smoked Gouda.

He was quick to notice that pancakes were not on the menu—or on his plate—but Celestia had made everything else (including the bread for the week) except the orange juice. She had even brought in the bottles of milk and cream.

Spike’s ears finally tuned into the interview Celestia was watching.

“Tell me about yourself, Mister Zenith,” Dr. Hearthswarmer said.

“Well, there’s not much to tell,” Spike replied.

“What do you do for a living?” she asked.

“I do nothing. I am rich,” he answered.

Spike could barely listen to a word of what was being said. He decided that he’d heard enough when his past self (the one in the interview) shared that he didn’t believe in sun tanning—artificial or otherwise—because he knew how dangerous ultraviolet radiation was.

He took the T.V. remote from Celestia and changed the channel.

“You just woke up and you’re already in a mood?” she asked.

“In some parts of the world, it’s considered good to know what’s really going on,”

The screen displayed the current events as Celestia started making the orange juice.

“Currently in New Canterlot City, it’s a sunny 75 degrees. The winds are calm, and the relative humidity is 23 percent...”

“Sounds like good weather to be under,” Celestia thought.

“We’re all familiar with the illegal poaching of endangered animals in the wild but never before has an animal in captivity been slaughtered for its pelt. Animal protection groups that monitor the international trade in game contraband have further told us that a white tiger is so rare that the offer of a pelt would surely draw the attention of law enforcement agencies. Shortly before dawn this morning, security staff at the Canterlot Zoo in Trotland discovered the excoriated carcass of its prized three-year-old female tigress. Police sources have suggested that the killing was contracted by a private collector. If the battle to preserve endangered species has moved into the urban zoological park, we must ask ourselves if any animal in the world is safe,”

Spike growled as Celestia asked, “Who would do a thing like that?”

“In other news, officials at a Quested Aerospace research facility in Equestria have denied the rumors that twelve cases of missing Equestrium were in fact stolen from their vaults two weeks ago. A Neigherian terrorist group had claimed responsibility for the alleged theft. However, officials are attributing the discrepancy to a simple clerical error. The E.B.I., which is investigating the matter, had no comment,”

Spike finished his tumbler of milk after wolfing down his breakfast, and grabbed his lunch (which was in a sealed container) from the refrigerator, just as Celestia finished pouring the orange juice into a tall glass.

“Celestia, please, don’t start with the juice again,” he said.

“Spike, you need your Vitamin C,” she told him. “Here’s your briefcase.”

“I don’t need my briefcase,” he protested.

“It’s been a couple of months now, so I say we go out to Malibuck,”

“Don’t tell me those lowlifes have been calling again,” he growled in reply.

“They are your renters. Also, your appointment with Dr. Fauna is tomorrow, don’t look for an excuse to try and cancel or get out of it. Oh, and Fancy Pants is finally back in town. He’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Why?” Spike groaned.

“He’s your C.E.O.!”

Spike growled again as he headed for the door to his multi-car garage.

“Here,” she said, trying to give him the juice.

“Forget it!” he said as he tried to leave.

Celestia gave Spike a quick peck on the cheek as he grabbed a ring of keys from a hook on the wall, walked through the adjacent door, and peered into the shadowy space as the lights turned on overhead. He marched into the vast, concrete tiled garage, past a fleet of souped-up muscle cars and other classic high-performance luxury vehicles--including a golden 1966 Dodge Charger, two 1969 Dodge Darts (one blue, one green), a green 1969 Plymounth Road Runner, a red 1970 Plymounth Barracuda, a yellow 1990 Lamborghini Diablo, a black 1998 Porsche 911 Carrera [996], a black 1957 Coltillac, a red 1958 Plymounth Fury, a heavily modified 1971 Lincolt Continental Mk III, a customized 1980 Panther De Ville, several Cords and two cherry red Ferraris--towards the section that he had set aside for his motorcycles.

Spike passed a dark purple Suzuki B-King streetfighter, a black-and-red 2002 Triumph Speed Triple 955i, a massive rad Chopper motorcycle--royal purple with an emerald green flame paint job--and selected the royal blue Aprilia RSV 1000 R.

As his own seat met the seat of the motorcycle, Spike’s pager went off. He checked it and saw a message from the woman from the night before, asking Spike if he was still planning on coming into work that day.

“It’s not even 6:30, and Fleur is already paging me,” he groaned in thought as he clamped his pager back to his belt.

Spike put on his modular helmet, kicked the engine to life, dropped the clutch, and the motorcycle raced forward. A hatch and drawbridge disguised as a grassy hill opened downward into the front lawn and the motorcycle leapt out from a tunnel beneath the castle, and sped down the highway toward New Canterlot City.

.

Long ago, New Canterlot City had been a small, sturdy town by a wide, deep river and a large lake in a small part of a big Midwestern state. There wasn’t so much wilderness around that one couldn’t see the city; on the other hand, there wasn’t so much city that one could not see, touch and feel the wilderness. It had been there for over 200 years, but every single building was new. Built on reclaimed prairieland in 1786, it was the home of Equestria’s best-dressed store window. They had hunting, fishing, and a charming view of the sunsets. But it was known mostly for its affordable housing originally meant for young couples and happy families... now it was infested with hateful old codgers that simply refused to die and bitter, middle-aged divorcees that attracted wilderness lovers, a few loners and the occasional drifter. If a man was looking for a woman, New Canterlot City was the place. The winters were cold and lonesome, and there wasn’t a higher female-to-male ratio outside of Ponyville or Maretropolis. Oh, there were men in New Canterlot... just not many.

Make no mistake, though. The well trimmed gardens and calm façade hid a very frustrated environment... one full of paranoia and general hostility, where crime--especially marital infidelity--festered. But some refused to give in to sin... no matter how many new faces their temptations were given. The only real problems were the pests: mice, moths, mosquitoes... and monsters. Most people would leave, and a few already had, but not the rest of them. It was a community of almost exclusively Scolttish descent (many of them former Highlanders); they had stubbornness issues.

And even though New Canterlot’s total population was only 1,600 actual registered citizens--not counting the over one thousand college students and thousands of other people that commuted from other areas for work--it was still large enough that it had two baseball teams, the New Canterlot Knights and the New Canterlot Stallions, a basketball team, the New Canterlot Mustangs, an Equestrian football team, the New Canterlot Broncos, and an ice hockey team, the New Canterlot Bucks.

On the right was the drive in, the drive-thru, the drive-up and the dry cleaners; on the left, Big Tex’s Burgers, home of the “two-pound, double-bacon, double-cheese tongue-tantalizing, people-pleasing ton of fun on a bun.” The museum had the fastest turtle, seediest apple, and the only known prehistoric horse skeleton. It also had a high school, grade school, preschool, summer school, cemetery, aviary, and the home of Chunky Berry.

And Spike Zenith hated all of it.

He hated New Canterlot City.

It was a place full of memories that he would rather forget.

There was no place in the world he would rather not go ever again.

He didn’t fit in; he didn’t fit in anywhere.

Not only that, but nothing seemed to make him happy.

But he went into the city, anyway.

He didn’t know why; force of habit, more than anything.

And as he drove, Spike wondered if anything would ever change and for the better.

“Will that day ever come?” he asked himself in thought.

He doubted it.

Everywhere he went, the women were immodestly covered. Even though it was near autumn, many sported bare legs and pants so tight he saw the separation between their butt cheeks. His groin stirred, his cock hardening, as he crossed the stone bridge over the quiet pond in Beaumount Park and arrived at New Canterlot University.

Originally a prestigious school best known for their exclusively skirt student body, New Canterlot University (NCU) was infamous for accepting female students from New Canterlot High School and Crystal Prep Academy. It had become coed only a few years ago, when the newly appointed Dean Cadence Amore announced that she was changing the admissions practices of the school. Dozens of young men and women who never dreamed of going to college signed up immediately. Abacus Cinch, the greedy former headmistress of the University, naturally flipped. The sole reason she allowed the school to become co-ed was because she was convinced that more students attending would mean more money. However, the former all-female institute still retained a 70% female population, keeping them in the majority.

Spike’s motorcycle slowed as he rounded the turn, and he paused as he saw the dozens of young men and women in identical uniforms walking up the low hill toward the main building.

There were two types of uniforms for the women: long-sleeved jackets or sleeveless vests. Since it was August, most of them were wearing the jacket; a basic black with a chic design, giving out an elegant look, with the school’s emblem on the pocket above the left breast. Add the red ties, and the good gets better. And finally, the pleated black-and-red plaid skirts, which varied in length, as did the black socks.

“This is as scratchy as tweed,” one of the girls complained about hers. “A sack of potatoes has more panache! It’s criminal, downright oppressive!”

The boys’ uniforms were much simpler; black suit jackets with red trim and black slacks. Aside from their hair color, the kids look like they had just come off an assembly line. But Spike recognized six of the young men: Tender Taps, Rumble, Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Snips and Snails. Tender Taps was a very shy but very skilled dancer who unfortunately suffered from crippling stage fright; Rumble was a determined kid with a lot of heart who dreamed of following in his older brother’s footsteps as a fighter pilot, Pipsqueak, or “Pip” for short, was a brown-haired, brown-eyed foreign exchange student from Trottingham; Featherweight was an aspiring young reporter working as a part-time intern at the New Canterlot City Tribune, and Snips and Snails were a fat and skinny pair reminiscent of any of the old comedy duos.

At the moment, they were talking to a group of six older girls standing--and sitting--together around the fountain before class. Spike started to look longingly at the six young women. They were all smart, pretty and different in their own unique ways... and Spike had befriended each of them very, very gradually.

.

The first girl was Applejack Smith; a tall, deceptively strong, extraordinarily lovely farmer’s daughter with a long blonde ponytail and Southern drawl. She was third-year student and recent transfer who didn’t believe in anything that she couldn’t see with her own two eyes. She reminded Spike of the Amarezon warriors.

The fiery redhead was Sunset Shimmer, a beautiful former bully and bad girl of many talents and interests with an even more beautiful heart.

Fluttershy, a kind, timid, gentle, pale, breathtaking young babe of a woman as lovely as her name, sweeter than any honey, who was known for her big bust size, her collection of stuffed animals... and her bikini-clad photo spreads in Equestria Weekly magazine, courtesy of the photographer (and former classmate) Photo Finish.

Then there was Pinkie Pie, a very positive, energetic, chipper, talented baker and chemistry major who loved every shade of pink from hot pink to soft pink, but unfortunately had a bad habit of taking her clothes off at the most inappropriate moments (mostly because of her lack of shame).

Rainbow Dash, a tomboy whose boldness and tan complexion made her stand out among the other girls, was the captain of literally every female sports team at New Canterlot City University--except cheerleading--who prided herself on “being one of the guys” and also held the college’s title of “Heaviest Drinker”.

And finally, Rarity St. Germaine, a lovely lady with almond-shaped eyes and always perfectly brushed purple hair, ranked high on the “Most Eligible Bachelorettes” list, she was the resident drama queen and man-eater, yet had a reputation for staying single. The first time she saw Spike, it didn’t start out well... and it only got worse.

Presently, Rarity was nibbling on a low-fat mini-muffin while Pinkie Pie gorged herself on orange juice, a cheesy frittata, a chocolate biscotti and a box of bacon-flavored doughnuts.

“Early morning, sweetest part of the day,” Pinkie said with a sigh, “quiet, peaceful, just me... and these succulent little babies, right here. You gals want some?”

Sunset Shimmer looked at Fluttershy, who was repeatedly running one of her hands through her pale pink hair, and asked, “Hey, did you get your hair cut? Why’d you get a haircut?”

“It’s because she hopes Spike will be here today, right?” Applejack teased.

“Spike has nothing to do with it,” Fluttershy lied.

“Wait, Spike’s back in town?” Pinkie asked. “As in ‘hot babysitter Spike’?”

Fluttershy blushed and nodded as she remembered the man in question tucking her into bed one night while her parents went out to dinner. She was just a little girl back then, but now she was a young woman, and Spike... well, Spike was a man of the world.

“Who?” Featherweight asked, as if he didn’t know (because he didn’t).

“Spike Zenith, of Zenith Industries and the Zenith Foundation; also known as Spike Zenith, the richest man in the world,” Fluttershy said.

“We used to beg our parents to call him,” Pinkie said. “I think Fluttershy even chipped in her allowance once!”

Fluttershy blushed again.

They all knew Fluttershy was bashful, diffident, self-conscious, timid and coy. She was so demure and skittish, she couldn’t help acting shy. And they all knew the reason why.

Spike Zenith stepped out of every woman’s dream. He had the kind of body that would shame bodybuilders and a face that would make any man proud... and he cooked and sewed as well. In martial arts he was beyond compare, once threw a bull at the county fair, superior at boxing and lifting weights, and outfought the champs of every single one of the Equestrian States. They had never known anyone even a fraction as skilled and talented as he was.

He had the world at his feet.

His life was everyone’s envy.

He’d never had a want, and he never would.

He lived like a king, with his hands covered in big gold and silver rings, full of emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds and pearls, and girls, girls, girls, girls, girls.

In their minds, he did whatever he felt like doing all the time. Spike did what he wanted, when he wanted, and how he wanted it. He was the epitome of freedom.

“Ah, Spike,” Sunset sighed.

“What’s so great about Spike?” Rumble asked. “I mean, seriously, what do you girls see in that guy?”

“Should we start with his feet and work our way up?” Sunset asked.

“Or his hair and work our way down?” Pinkie added. “He’s a super mysterious hunk with good looks and a perfectly sculpted body; a strong chest, broad shoulders, a chiseled chin, a handsome nose, and the faintest hint of a Scolttish accent. He’s just such... a man. Such class, such distinction... Not to mention, he’s so suave and sophisticated and handsome--”

“I’m just as handsome as he is!” Snips interjected. “If I had his chin and his chest... and his abs... and his muscles, and his deep voice...”

“Hey! You forgot his cute dimples!” Pinkie told him.

“He is pretty cool, all right,” Applejack admitted.

“Um, don’t you mean... cute?” Fluttershy asked.

“Spike rocks!” Pinkie continued. “Hard worker, sharp dresser, you gotta respect that.”

“Respect,” Sunset agreed.

When they first met Spike, there was very little known about him. What people did know about him was that he was a stunningly wealthy, extremely wealthy man. He collected everything from vintage automobiles to fine wines; he was living a life that most people dream about. Not only did he own a castle valued at over one trillion Equestrian dollars, he had (among many other things) a massive 30 million dollar house in South Flankida, one of the largest townhouses in New Yoke City, an entire apartment building in Mareis, Prance; his own private, permanently reserved V.I.P. box at the Kentbucky Derby; several private islands (plural) in the Carriagebean, a sprawling ranch in New Mexicolt, helicopters, airplanes, mines full of diamonds, and an endless supply of clams and oysters for harvesting pearls. And even though he was no longer the chief executive officer, he was still the founder and owner of Zenith Industries, the dominant economic force in New Canterlot City.

They had also heard that Spike practiced and taught all kinds of martial arts, so not only was he super-manly, but super tough, too. All the male students at New Canterlot University idolized him and the female students practically fell at his feet. He was a friend to animals as well as a philanthropist, plus he had been named “Sexiest Man Alive” multiple times in all of the most popular magazines. He was a modern day knight in a world overrun with brainless morons. But he was so popular that he seemed to show no interest in dating at all. That being said, that didn’t keep women from continuing to confess their love to him.

“Would all of you stop?” Rainbow Dash snapped. “Sure, there’s no question that Spike’s a twelfth-degree stud with great hair, dreamy eyes, and a cute smile, but that doesn’t change the fact that...” Rainbow Dash paused, startled, and felt a peculiar sensation sweep along her spine. Her lips parted into a soft gasp. “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” she asked.

“No, just over there,” Pinkie said, pointing across the courtyard.

They all swung around and whitened; for they saw that the subject of their conversation had pulled up along the curb across the way.

“He’s got a motorcycle?” Dash grinned when she saw it. “Now that’s hot.”

Being an athlete, Rainbow Dash was markedly attracted to such things. Plus it was against the University’s rules for students to come to school on a motorbike—it gave Spike kind of a bad boy vibe—which Dash liked (in fact, it made her like him even more).

Spike removed his helmet, revealing wavy green hair that topped the most handsome face they had seen outside of a movie, feathered away from those piercing emerald eyes, which gleamed even when narrowed against the sunlight, above the sharp, handsome nose, firm jaw, and the strong chin, which whispered of his Europonean ancestry. At six-foot-two, with strong arms and long legs, he was as smoking hot as the motorcycle he rode. His smile was also perfect. His hands were large and manicured and his face seemed to have been frozen in time, untouched by the developments of style and technology. But, despite the fact that he was very well-built, his movements were elegant and graceful like a big jungle cat.

Transcendent and gorgeous were just a few of the first words that sprang to mind. He cut an imposing figure, his well-honed physique shown to best advantage in that custom black leather jacket. His dark blue Wranglers were brand new, perfectly tailored, and his black boots unscuffed. He reminded them of Flint Westwood back in his spaghetti Western days. Anyone would have to be legally blind and brain-dead to not see how unforgettable he was.

As he walked slowly away from his motorcycle, and made his way across the courtyard, he was met with multiple passionate gazes and sighs from the female students and a collective “Whoa,” from the guys.

“Hey, check out that guy...”

“Wh-who’s that?”

“I don’t know,”

“He is fine!”

“Wow, he’s hot!”

“He’s, like, really hot,”

“He’s beyond hot!”

“He’s way too hot to be a student here,”

“He’s like a model,”

“Is he a model?”

“I like him,”

“I love him!” one woman said.

“It’d be great if someone like him was my boyfriend,” said another woman.

“Who is he?!”

These weren’t the first girls to check him out (and they wouldn’t be the last, either). It wasn’t Spike’s fault he was a hard man to ignore—but his height and broad shoulders made it hard to hide in a crowd. His green hair, emerald eyes and clear skin added to the striking looks that had a bad habit of attracting female attention. Almost all women took a second look.

He was a pheromone-arousing package of good-looking male.

“Like, wow,” they all thought. “Just wow.”

Needless to say, he was easy on the eyes... very easy.

Suddenly, the mob of girls stampeded toward him as if he were a rock star, trying to touch him or just to get a glimpse of the famous young man. Some even wanted autographs.

“Wh-who are you?” one of them asked timidly.

“Do you have a brother?”

“Or even a half-brother?”

“Wh-What’s your name?”

“Zenith,” he answered. “Spike Zenith. Nice to meet you.”

His voice was rich like dark chocolate, mature and extremely soothing. And just like that, their heads were swimming. When he looked at them, all their normal thoughts, their priorities, their feelings... all seemed to just vanish into thin air.

“Like, wow!” they sighed.

“Rrrrroow!” others purred.

“Oh, my God, you are such a hottie!”

“Are you single?”

“Are you free? Do you wanna hang out with us?”

“You’re so handsome! Do you want to go out with me?”

“Don’t go out with her, go out with me!”

“Go out with me! Please!”

“Please go out with me!”

“No, go out with me!”

“No, with me!”

“With me!”

“I only have eyes for you!”

“Marry me!”

“Or you could just be my husband!”

No less than two dozen of the female students surrounded him, almost screaming, “No, with me! With me!”

“As if!” Spike thought as he gently shoved them all away.

Spike Zenith didn’t date women younger than himself... especially not college girls. They were like puppies—or some other hyperactive animal that jumped on and slobbered all over him—always in constant need of attention.

Dragons were notoriously picky.

“Here he comes,” Snips said. “Betcha he says hi to me.”

“Nah, not his style,” Snails replied. “Spike doesn’t say ‘hi.’ He’s too cool for... ‘Hi.’”

“Hi, Spike,” Snips said. “He blinked! Did you see that?”

“He totally ignored you,” Snails replied.

“Blinked,”

“Ignored,”

“Hold on, that’s Spike Zenith?” Pipsqueak asked. “I thought he was just a myth.”

“I heard he scored five cheerleaders, the coach and the coach’s two daughters all in the same summer!” Rumble said.

“All the girls at dance camp knew about him,” Tender Taps shared.

“Come on, guys, those are just rumors,” Featherweight told them.

For a brief moment, Spike couldn’t help but think about their lives and how nice it must be to just be normal eighteen, nineteen, or twenty-something kids about to finish school. But then he thought of how his meditation techniques really needed some work, and of how he could use a couple of hours concentrating on his breathing control.

At first he thought, “Why should I make friends with humans, people who would kill me if they knew what I was? What if I give myself away?”

But the yearning continued.

It was then that Spike realized that he did not know how to make friends.

He had always had other dragons around him, dragons that now hid in their separate caves. There had always been dragons. He had never had to reach out for company, it was always there. They were still around, of course, but now he couldn’t bear to be with them, and they could never just be his friends, either. The males and females all saw each other as potential mates—be nice to one, and the others would sulk and snap. Fight, fight, fight, that’s what paying attention to them meant.

“I want other friends,” Spike thought.

But no one seemed to want him.

He was tall and striking, like his father, with a full chest, slim waist, and strong hips... enough to show he was male. His skin was gently pale; it had always been pale, and his hair was thick and green.

So why did most people stop talking whenever he approached them or answered his openings with terse words that killed any conversations that he tried to start? Was he too good-looking? Was that the threat they saw? He was a handsome specimen, he knew—the dragonesses roared for him—but what did human eyes perceive?

Spike knew he had an uncontrollable appeal to women.

The human females, young girls and adult women, nudged each other when he passed; he’d seen them out of the corner of his eye. They noticed him. And he understood why they blushed and stammered if he talked to them. There were always shy girls who would die if any guy noticed them. But where were the bold ones?

But male or female, humans resisted him.

He was halfway across the courtyard when he was stopped by another trio of cute girls.

The first was Apple Bloom, a redhead with a pink bow in her hair, who was Applejack’s younger sister, and she was currently dating Tender Taps. The second girl was Sweetie Belle. As well as being Rarity’s younger sister, she had some kind of love-hate relationship with Rumble (they weren’t dating, but no one really knew for sure exactly what it was). And finally, Scootaloo, another tanned tomboy who looked up to Rainbow Dash like a big sister and had really grown since last summer (she was beginning to think she’d never need a bra). She was an Aussie, but she didn’t talk like one (no accent). The buzz about her was that her parents had an arrangement with her father’s sister and her partner so that whenever Scootaloo wasn’t going to school she spent part of the year in Chicoltgo with the aunts and the other part in Austailia (that’s AusTAILia, not Australia) with her mom and dad. But for now, she was happy in New Canterlot City with her friends.

“Why am I even coming to this stupid orientation with you two if I’m not even sure I’m going to college?” Scootaloo asked them. “College is no guarantee of a job. It’s a useless waste of time. I mean, Spike never went to college and he makes lots of money making weapons for the military... and he always drives a nice car.”

“Speaking of whom, looks like you’re a little late again today,” Sweetie Belle told him.

“So?” Spike replied indifferently.

“Well, we’d just like to see ya for more than a few seconds before ya have to go to work, that’s all,” said Apple Bloom.

“Oh? You’re starting to sound like you want to go out with me or something,” he replied.

Spike managed to keep his expression bland, but his piercing gaze made her blush.

Damn. She’d inadvertently drawn his attention to her major flaw: redheads were notorious blushers. On the other hand, only a blind man would miss Apple Bloom’s brazen hair.

“It’s not just ‘any’ or ‘something,’ I do want to go out with you, Spike,” Sweetie Belle said quietly, her face heating with her own blush. “That is, if you want to.”

“Zenith, don’t make any of them cry!” Rumble warned him. “If you do, you’ll have their big sisters coming after you!”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Sweetie Belle told him. “We are not crying, at all!”

“Spike Zenith!” Applejack shouted.

Spike ducked as Applejack threw a textbook at his head. It flew across the courtyard and landed in a tree behind him, scaring the birds that had been nesting in it.

“Ya’ll have got some nerve, pickin’ on my little sister, ya dirt bag!” she said as she grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket.

“Will you calm down?” he asked. “I was only talking to her.”

“That’s right, sis! He wasn’t pickin’ on me,” Apple Bloom said. “We were just talkin’.”

Applejack relaxed and slowly let go of his jacket. As tough as she was, AJ deeply cared for her younger sister... but she cared for Spike just as much (even if she did have an odd way of showing it). He was one of the few good things in her life, in all of their lives. And she cherished every moment with him, every touch.

And feeling his leather in her hand was one of those many moments.

Spike shrugged as he readjusted his jacket and looked toward the other girls, and Fluttershy smiled a big smile as she waved at him.

“Yo, Spike,” Rainbow Dash greeted him. “What’s cracking?”

“What’s up, Dash?” he replied.

“Spike, what’s up?” Pinkie asked. “You want some bacon-flavored doughnuts?”

“Thanks, I’m good,” he politely refused.

They were soon joined by another girl. Trixie Lulamoon, daughter of the famous stage magician, Jack Pot, and one of Spike’s fewest, oldest and closest friends. She had grown up to be every bit the magician her father was, both on and off the stage.

She shuffled the playing cards she was holding and told Spike to draw three from the deck: the Queen of Spades, the Ten of Diamonds, and the Ace of Hearts.

“Looks like you’re going to be late again tomorrow,” she told him. “On your way to work, you’ll have a romantic meeting with a sweet girl. You’ll forget all about the time, and that’s why you’re going to be late.”

“Seems to be oddly specific,” he thought.

“Is that so?” Applejack smiled.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” he asked her.

“Nothin’ at all, lover boy,” Applejack replied, patting his shoulder.

Spike brushed off her comment as he looked at Fluttershy again, who raced over and hugged him, clinging to him tightly. He noticed that she didn’t have her lunch with her. He gave her his meal—the garlic chicken with the golden potato and broccoli—and remembered that it was the exact same meal he was eating when she last saw him.

.

It was a couple of years back, when Spike was walking along the wall of the University’s main building. He had been debating with himself on where to eat when he looked into the courtyard and saw a beautiful, demure girl with very, very long hair and delicate, pale skin sitting alone beneath one of the trees. She was a third year student, maybe even a little older than that, even if she didn’t look like it. She was at least two years older than the rest of the students, including Applejack. Her eyes were as blue as the sea and as skittish as a newborn filly’s.

“Hi,” he said as he sat down beside her.

His voice was deep and smooth, calm but firm. It was the voice of a handsome man, the kind of masculine baritone that always made her heart beat a little faster. Yet it complimented his boyish good looks almost perfectly.

As she looked up at his perfect face, his fierce yet gentle gaze seemed to consume her.

“Are you eating alone?” he asked.

“What do you want?” she asked in the softest, sweetest voice he had ever heard.

It was the barest, breathless whisper, but Spike heard it.

“Nothing,” he replied. “I was just wondering why you were eating lunch alone.”

“The leaves sure are pretty, aren’t they?” she asked, looking up at them. “They really take my breath away.”

“They’ll be gone soon,” he said. “Just wait. By this time next week, it’ll be like they were never here in the first place.”

“That’s true. But they’ll come back next year. And the year after that, and the year after that... if only for a while, they’ll be beautiful again,”

Spike removed the lid from the box containing his food and the girl’s mouth started to water from the aroma.

“Did you make that?” she inquired.

“No, one of my servants did,” he replied. “Would you like some?”

She appreciated his kind offer. Then he quickly remembered that he had only one set of eating utensils with him... so he gave her his whole meal.

“It’s really good,” she said after tasting some of the potato and broccoli.

He smiled in reply.

She had trouble meeting his eyes directly because his gaze was so strong.

He had a fire in his eyes that wouldn’t let go—intense emeralds that were thousands of years old and had seen everything.

“Let me ask you something. Do you like this place?”

“No, not really,” he answered.

“I have to say that I love this place very, very much. I used to have friends I could talk to and teachers I was close to. But now, it’s just... I had to take the year over so everything’s changed. I was sick, out of school for a long time last year, so everything’s different. Everybody that I knew is graduated and moved on with their lives, so there isn’t anyone I know here anymore. Fun things, happy things, they’ll all... they’ll all eventually change someday. But can you still love this place?”

She tried to keep the trembling from her voice.

Spike listened hard, for her voice was still the softest whisper.

“All you have to do is just go out there and find more,” he said. “It’s not that difficult.”

She laughed to herself, a light, melodic sound that lifted Spike’s heart and made him think of happier days.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’ve only just met you and I’m telling you all this!”

“It’s okay,” he smiled.

“I have to admit, I’ve always been shy and kind of clumsy. Everybody I’ve known used to always tease me about it,” she said. “I guess I don’t stand out much, even in my own classes.”

“Well, if you’re always looking so sad, you won’t make any friends. Aren’t you in any of the clubs?” he asked her.

“Well, I really wanted to join the Midsummer Theatre, but I don’t know,” she shared. “Physically, I’m weak, so I can’t be very active. I don’t think I’d get any parts.”

“If that’s the case then just do what you can,” Spike told her. “Why not at least check them out after class?”

She did... only to find the room that its members usually met in was empty.

She also learned that the Midsummer Theatre had been on hiatus since Charity Kindheart retired in March of the previous year. And even though it (technically) was headed by one of the students, Miss Coco Pommel, it had been disbanded because there weren’t enough people interested in it to keep it going.

“I had heard they’d always had few members,” the girl admitted.

“But they can get going again once all the requirements are met,” Spike said. “Why don’t you just hang in there a little bit longer? I’ll help you.”

“Can I ask you something? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me? You only just met me a little while ago,”

“Why am I being nice? Don’t know, good question,”

She coughed, trying to push aside the girlish thoughts that were beginning to bubble inside of her. And when she finally smiled at him, Spike’s breath caught in his throat at the gentle curve of her lips. He was struck by her beauty. It was a soft, gentle beauty that grew with each second he looked at her. She was stunning.

Spike couldn’t help but notice that her quiet competence around him was a direct contrast to her behavior around other people. He’d always had a way with other beings—they instinctively trusted him. But humans were a distinctly different species, especially the women. This girl didn’t need any great perceptive skills to realize that the others treated him like a pariah. For most women, that would be a steer-clear clue that he was a man to be avoided, and with his height and size, the last instinct he usually aroused in females was security. Yet she treated him as if she’d instantly labeled him “safe,” no one who was going to cause her trouble.

Fluttershy could see right from the start Spike had a good heart.

“Well, I have to go,” he said.

He stood up to leave, telling her that she could keep the rest of his meal.

“By the way, my name is Fluttershy Breeze,” she stood up and properly introduced herself. “What about you?”

“Does it matter? I’m just a guy who decided to share his lunch with you,”

“It might not mean much to you, but if I ran into you again and didn’t know your name I would feel bad,” she told him.

Seeing her point, Spike smiled at her again. He couldn’t help it. She just made him smile; it was like an infection... a good kind.

“I’m Spike Zenith,” he said.

“It’s very nice to meet you,”

“Yes, same here,”

She extended her hand to him and he took it, careful not to crush it. Humans were so delicate. That’s when Fluttershy noticed a dark mark on the back of his right hand, at the base of his scarred knuckles. It curled around his wrist, all the way up his right forearm and ended just short of the elbow.

“Hey, that’s a really cool dragon tattoo,” she complimented.

“Actually, it’s a birthmark, believe it or not,” he replied.

They heard the school bell ring and Fluttershy bid him farewell before taking off for class. At the time, Spike didn’t think much of it. But now that he looked back, he realized that was not the first time he’d met Fluttershy.

That morning...

The next time Spike saw Fluttershy, he found her standing in the courtyard with a broom, sweeping up by herself. After she had finished, they talked and they talked. Somehow, the conversation shifted to the point where Spike shared that he had been a member of the city’s boxing club. But when he said that he’d quit, Fluttershy asked if he’d come to hate sports because of that. He told her no, but he also told her that he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d put on the gloves.

“Hey, Spike, why not spar with me?” she asked. “Teach me how to box. I’ll wait for you in the boxing gym after class tomorrow.”

The following day, Spike stood at one of the colossal windows of his mansion, looking out at the cloudy sky.

Fluttershy’s words still echoed in his ears.

“Teach me how to box.”

He thought that, because it was raining, there was no way she would be there... just waiting for him. But he decided to go to the gym anyway. And when he did, he found her standing in the rain... without a coat and without an umbrella.

“What are you doing out here?” he shouted. “You should have gone home!”

“But if you came after I left, I wouldn’t have been able to meet you to box,”

“There was no guarantee that I would come, was there?”

“But you did, didn’t you?”

Spike’s face softened, and his anger was quickly replaced with shock.

“You’ve always been there for me,” Fluttershy said. “I thought the least I could do was spar with you to pay you back. At least show me how to punch and how to block. I’ve never seen a boxer throw a punch up close...”

He nodded and they went into the locker rooms to change.

Spike came back out, and not a moment too soon, because he saw the exact moment that Fluttershy was being harassed by two thugs.

“Hey, where you going, baby?” one of them chuckled. “Come on!”

Fluttershy’s face wasn’t flushed, it was stark white. Even from yards away, Spike could see her expression wasn’t flustered or embarrassed, but downright scared, and she ran as the pair approached her. She quickened her pace as a third punk joined in the chase and they trapped her with her back to a corner.

Spike recognized the bullies as Hoops Dunkington, Dumb-Bell and Score. They were all jocks, but not good ones. They could run well, but they couldn’t hold onto a ball even if it had a handle. Hoops said something—undoubtedly some kind of vulgar compliment, because it made Dumb-Bell laugh.

“Are you here alone?” Hoops asked.

“You’re pretty cute,” Dumb-Bell added as he tried to grab her by the shoulder.

“Do you wanna have a little fun with us?” Score asked.

Spike saw when Hoops hooked an arm around Fluttershy’s waist and Score snatched something from her neck.

“That’s mine! Give it back!” she shouted.

“Admit it!” Score taunted her. “You believe in dragons!”

“So what if I do?” she asked.

“Everyone knows they’re just fairytales!” Dumb-Bell added.

“Get off me!” she shouted as she lashed out with her hands and feet.

She tried to fight them, but they easily overpowered her.

“You’ve got really nice tits. The real deal,” Hoops said as he reached for them. “And dressing like this make you even cuter—”

Protectiveness flared deep inside Spike. All his attention was on her when he stalked over, his step so quiet that no one even realized he was there—until he suddenly appeared, positioned himself between Hoops and Fluttershy, then he reached out and smacked Hoops’ hand away. It was as if he’d just appeared out of nowhere.

“She may look cute but that doesn’t give you permission to touch her, you bastard!”

The three bullies were taken aback by Spike’s sudden interference and Fluttershy gasped as she watched as her assailants were dragged away by Spike!

“Get lost,” Hoops told him.

He had a beer flush and the adrenaline of rage was flashing in his eyes.

“I said, leave her alone!” Spike growled as her bullies, the reason for her panic, approached again.

How dare they even consider touching her.

Spike rose to his fullest height and his widest stance; the better to protect her.

“If you don’t know how to respect a woman I’ll have to teach you,” he said. “I will do anything to get what I want. And I want you on your knees, begging forgiveness from this lady.”

Spike didn’t really want to fight them... unfortunately, getting their butts handed to them was the only way those three were going to learn their lesson.

“I should warn you, I promised my mother a long time ago. I had to give people a chance to walk away,” he said.

“You a momma’s boy?” Hoops asked.

“She liked to see fair play,”

“There’s three of us and one of you,”

“You can still walk away,”

“You can’t take us three-on-one,”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe one of you will stay on your feet long enough to get to me. But which one of you will it be? You have no way of knowing. One of you will be taking the other two to the hospital for a six-month stay. You want to take those odds?”

Spike’s hands were down at his sides, his feet apart, securely planted. He could feel the earth through the soles of his shoes. He folded the fingers of his left hand flat against his palm, raised the hand, very slowly, brought it level with his shoulder, palm out. The three bullies stared at it; the way Spike’s fingers were folded made them think he was hiding something. But what?

He snapped his fingers open. There was nothing there. In the same split second, he moved sideways, heaved his right fist up, and caught Hoops with a colossal uppercut to the jaw. The massive impact snapped his jaw shut, lifted him up off the ground, and dumped him back down in a vertical heap on the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Score and Dumb-Bell sprang back and apart into wide defensive stances, crouched and fists ready. They weren’t total amateurs. They reacted well and pretty fast.

“Now it’s two against one,” Spike said as he landed a right cross to Score’s nose.

“What the Tartarus?” Score exclaimed as he cradled his face with his hands.

“Didn’t your mothers tell you to fight fair?” Spike asked them.

Enraged, Score ran at Spike with his head low, aiming for Spike’s chest; looking to drive him backward and have him stumble and fall to the ground, whereupon Dumb-Bell could pile in with him and stomp Spike and kick him to their hearts’ content.

That was a big mistake.

Score charged and Spike turned slightly sideways, bent his knees a little, timed it just right, and drove all his weight up and forward off his back foot through his shoulder straight into Score’s face, breaking his already bleeding nose.

Spike had hardly moved at all, but Score bounced back, stunned, staggering on stiff legs, desperately trying to stay upright.

The two punks spread out and Spike proceeded to give them a beat down.

First, he head-butted Score... then he delivered an elbow to Dumb-Bell’s jaw.

He practically danced around them.

“How’d he do that?” Dumb-Bell thought.

Spike rehearsed his next moves; main difficulty would be limiting the damage. Careful restraint would be required. He stepped in and kicked Dumb-Bell in the groin, but with his left foot. Right-footed, he would have popped bits of the guy’s pelvis out through his nose.

“A rotten way to win in a fight, but it’s effective,” Spike thought. “One day that big soft heart of yours is what’ll get you killed…” he added, “... but not today.”

Then Score pulled a switchblade.

“A cowardly choice of weapon,” Spike thought.

While Spike’s back was turned, Hoops (having regained consciousness) pulled out a TASER and zapped Spike from behind with it... but the shock had absolutely no effect on him. Then Spike turned and punched Hoops square in the jaw after he took the stun gun from him and crushed it in his bare hand.

Hoops gasped and swore that he saw fire coming from Spike’s mouth, but he couldn’t be sure because before he could even throw another cheap shot, Spike had crouched, spun around and swept Hoops’ legs out from under him. Spike spun back with an elbow to the head for Dumb-Bell, ducked under the inevitable roundhouse swing coming from Score, let him follow through, and put an elbow in his kidney, forcing him to drop his knife.

In the end, except for the TASER attack, Spike was untouched... and Hoops, Score and Dumb-Bell all ended up on their backs.

“Up on your knees, insects... Now!” Spike said. He picked up Score’s switchblade and tore the fabric of the bullies’ shirts with it. “When I get bored with tearing your clothes, I’ll tear out your hearts.”

Another cut in the fabric and the whites of their eyes were wide with satisfying fear.

“Swear you will never touch her again,” Spike told them.

“We swear,” Hoops, Score and Dumb-Bell replied. “Forgive us!” they added.

“Now get out of here,” Spike growled.

The trio slowly got to their feet, still groggy from their injuries, then turned and ran back the way they’d come.

Spike discarded the ugly blade into a nearby trashcan and turned to see Fluttershy still cowering in the corner.

He asked, “Are you all right?”

Fluttershy was breathing heavily as she looked at him.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

That’s when Spike saw the tears in her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean...” she cried softly. Her voice shook as she said it. “I’m always... I’m always causing you trouble... I’m...”

Fluttershy suddenly felt lightheaded, like she was overcome with a fever. She fainted as Spike reached out and caught her before she hit the ground; his muscular arms around her felt oddly familiar, almost like they were meant to be there.

The last thing she heard before passing out was Spike calling her name.

Spike bowed his head in acquiescence, his strong arms wrapped around her, pressing her against a chest as warm and hard as sun-soaked stone, followed by his wings, as he felt her go limp in his arms. Never had he held anything more precious than her trembling form, and he would protect her with every part of his being. He began to whirl her around, spinning in a tight circle that only seemed to squeeze her harder, smother her, until she could no longer breathe and darkness took her, and they were transported to a room with a pink-swathed single bed.

This was where she slept.

Spike unfurled his wings, so that he could carry her to her bed. Her scent filled the air between them, winding its sweet, floral fragrance about him as securely as any spell. He didn’t want to let her go.

She gave a little sigh, as if she shared the sentiment.

But sentiment was all it could ever be.

He was her protector. It was his duty to keep her safe.

He tugged off her shoes and covered her with the duvet as triumph swelled in his chest. He had successfully protected her; maybe not perfectly, but he’d gotten her home safe.

Rustling from the bed told Fluttershy she was awake. When she opened her eyes, she was lying in her bed at home with her parents, Gentle Breeze and Posey Shy, looking at her with great concern.

“Fluttershy, we were so worried,” her mother began.

“Your trainer told us you had collapsed,” her father added.

Fluttershy’s memory of that day was so murky she could barely remember it.

“My... my trainer?” she asked weakly.

“Your trainer who said he was teaching you self-defense,” her mother, Posey, replied. “Fluttershy, why didn’t you tell us you were taking a self-defense class?”

“It’s okay,” Gentle Breeze gently jumped in. “He also told us that he was teaching you free of charge, so don’t worry about it. And because he was so quick in getting Doctor Horse to come here, you’re going to be all right... Try to rest now,” he said, kissing his daughter’s forehead before leaving.

Before they left her to rest, they also told Fluttershy that the doctor had told them that she needed to stay in bed for a few days. What her parents didn’t tell her was that as soon they got home, Spike was on his way out. That’s when he introduced himself to them as Fluttershy’s self-defense trainer and explained to them what had happened. Then they told him that as a thank you for his kindness in saving their daughter’s life they were forever in his debt. If he ever needed anything, all he had to do was ask.

Posey Shy had insisted Fluttershy stay home, in her old bedroom, as if she were still a child and not a young woman trying to finish college. And Fluttershy had considered telling her parents that she was still sick, so that she wouldn’t have to go outside the house and risk seeing her bullies again. But those thoughts quickly dispersed when Fluttershy turned her head and saw a long white and green striped garment neatly folded on top of her nightstand.

Spike had left her his scarf.

The scarf he had been wearing earlier that day.

She smiled, settled down again, before snuggling back down under the quilt, and drifted back to sleep.

Fluttershy had never been strong as a child, and not just physically.

She had been depressed for a very long time. At cleanup time at school, the whole class would work together at first; but before Fluttershy knew it, she would be left all alone. She tried to get over her depression without anyone’s help. She had lived like that her whole life. But then, when she met Spike, she realized that it wasn’t enough. Thanks to him, she felt much better. He made her so happy that she wasn’t depressed at all anymore.

After that, Spike started going to the boxing gym again... and he started teaching Fluttershy more than just self-defense. Their hearts pounded wildly every time they trained together. Eventually, Fluttershy’s health improved to the point that she wasn’t sickly at all.

Then one day, after their sparring session, Fluttershy said, “I never really thanked you for coming to my rescue.”

“It was nothing,” he replied.

“I-I’m so glad... so glad that I got up the courage to talk to you,” she went on. “I thought you wouldn’t forgive me... after-after I let you get hurt that day.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you,” he told her. “I’m really sorry those guys tried to take advantage of you like that.”

There was a moment of silence before she asked, “I’m so silly, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but you’re also sweet,” he said.

“You think so?”

“We’re more alike than you think. Things may be hard sometimes, but instead of crying alone, call me,”

Fluttershy smiled as she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, but not before two of them fell onto her chest.

That’s when Spike noticed the piece of gold hanging from the necklace that she was wearing. It was a tiny gold figurine of a dragon with ruby eyes.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, suddenly defensive.

“Where did you get it?”

When she still wouldn’t answer him, Spike decided to change the question.

“Fluttershy, did you have some kind of childhood experience with dragons?”

She looked away, smiling rather sheepishly.

She remembered that night all too well... the night she first saw the dragon.

.

A full moon was hanging in the midnight blue sky over Fluttershy’s childhood home and a comet trailed magical light as it shot over the trees in the neighborhood.

Inside the house, a breeze blew through the curtains of Fluttershy’s bedroom window as she slept. She awoke, sat up, and noticed a strange shape being cast from her window and onto the wall across from it. She glanced over her shoulder, threw off her covers, and climbed out of bed. Fluttershy gaped as she peered out her window to see a purple and green dragon land on the lawn in the middle of her backyard. The Equestrian Dragon sniffed the air, looked around, walked past a shrub, and then hid something underneath it. He hid another object further down and then hurriedly flew off.

Excited, Fluttershy, still in her pajamas, grabbed her camera, ran downstairs and hurried outside, only to find the dragon already gone. She glanced over her empty yard then looked down to find two big emeralds in the grass and a tiny gold dragon-shaped pendant on a chain lying between them. Fluttershy picked up the gold dragon necklace and studied it. She glanced around again, returned her fascinated gaze to the piece of jewelry, and placed it around her neck.

That night was almost twenty years ago...

.

Shy Fluttershy liked her quiet life... until it was turned upside down when she saw the huge creature outside her house. A creature she’d only heard about in books, a creature so terrifying that people only spoke of it in a whisper.

She had kept the two emeralds and the gold dragon necklace, which she always wore. She never took it off, not when she went to sleep... not even to bathe. Now, she collected dragon figurines and other related memorabilia. She even had a stuffed baby dragon plush doll that she loved to cuddle with. It was one of the things that she almost never let her mother wash. And to this day, she still slept with that plushie under her arm every night.

Fluttershy had been infatuated with dragons ever since, even though people made fun of her for believing that they weren’t just fairytales.

Since then, she also dabbled in cryptozoology as well as mythology; she was like a mythical creature fan girl. She read books on dragons and dragon folklore all the time -- strictly small press. Of course, it had been over 1600 years since the last confirmed dragon sighting (every one since then was unconfirmed) but humanity still viewed them as a threat, as monsters.

“‘Monster’ is in the eye of the beholder,” Fluttershy once said. “They fight us because we keep trying to kill them.”

She would have even gotten a pet dragon, if that were possible... but she settled for a green tree python she’d named Rupert. And Fluttershy’s friendship with Spike flourished as well; he’d even introduced her to Dr. Fauna, the city’s veterinarian, a good doctor for Rupert. And speaking of Rupert, that’s who was slithering up Rarity’s leg, causing her to shriek.

“Calm down, you’re scaring him!” Fluttershy exclaimed.

“Scaring him?” Rarity asked.

“He was just giving you a hug,” Fluttershy said calmly.

“I don’t know why you have to bring that thing with you!” Rarity shouted. “You know I hate that thing. It could have bitten me!”

“Rupert is a python,” Fluttershy corrected her. “He doesn’t bite, he squeezes. Besides, I can’t leave him alone at home. Wherever I go, he goes.”

“Yuck!” Rarity gagged as Fluttershy kissed the top of Rupert’s head.

As gross as Rarity thought Fluttershy’s pet was, Fluttershy thought that Rupert was the cutest, most adorable thing in the world... besides Spike, of course.

“Come on, Rupert, say hello,” Fluttershy said as he coiled around her neck. “Tell Rarity you want to be friends.”

Spike smiled again as he glanced at Sunset Shimmer’s homework.

The week before, they had been discussing how many animals, rather than living alone, lived in groups to survive. One could call this self-interest, but some life forms, such as ants, would sacrifice themselves for the good of the colony. And wolves would instinctively place themselves between their newborns and a threat. Such traits were vital to the survival of many species, something from which humanity could learn a lesson.

The quick look at her books told him that they were learning about the ancient pyramids of South Equestria.

“You know, some people believe that the South Equestrians didn’t even build the pyramids,” Rumble commented. “They think it was aliens.”

“Actually, it was goblins,” Spike muttered under his breath.

“What?” Tender Taps asked.

“Nothing,” Spike said quickly.

“It is Mythology 101,” Applejack said. “But we’re talking about stuff like elves and unicorns, stuff that isn’t even real.”

“If she only she knew the truth,” Spike thought.

Being a dragon secretly living among humans, Spike had a more than thorough knowledge of the many truths behind history’s greatest mysteries, especially those connected to magical creatures. And since humanity in general had little to no realization of these facts or events, he had to be careful with what he said and who he said it to... but every once in a while, he would slip up. Even a dragon trained to curb his tongue had to be mindful of such things.

But the girls didn’t argue with him; all they could focus on were those gorgeous green eyes of his.

“So, any of you got plans after class?” he asked.

“The city finally reopened the downtown skate park,” Rainbow Dash said. “I’m gonna hit dat! So, you in or are you in?”

“Sounds sweet,” Spike replied, “but I’ve got to work.”

“No! Not again! This is the eleventh time this month you’ve blown us off!” Pinkie said.

It was true; ever since Spike fully embraced his responsibilities as the Equestrian Dragon, he flaked out on them on a regular basis and (in the process) had acquired a reputation for being just plain weird.

“Maybe next time,” he told them.

“Alright, but I’m telling you, you’re missing out,” Dash replied.

“I’ll see you all around,” he said as he started to walk back across the courtyard, toward his motorcycle. “Oh, Fluttershy!”

He smiled as he tossed her a chocolate peppermint, which she caught with both hands.

“Spike...” Fluttershy sighed dreamily.

“He’s so sweet,” she thought.

“That was a slick move, tossing you a gift just as he’s leaving,” Rainbow Dash said.

“He is quite a charmer,” Sunset Shimmer agreed.

“And a hunk,” she added in thought.

“Tasty treat,” Pinkie Pie joined in. “His eyes have a certain warmth, like a New Trotland sunrise, handsome as a lion... and don’t get me started on that ass,” she carried on as she bit her knuckle. “You should have seen yourself,” she told Fluttershy. “How you held that candy in your hands with a look of love all over your face... It was so cute!”

“Was it really that obvious?” Fluttershy asked, blushing.

“I just wish I had a camera to capture that beautiful moment!” Pinkie sighed with a smile.

“On videotape or in a photograph?” Sunset Shimmer inquired.

“Ooh, good one!” Pinkie replied. “I could watch that forever,” she sighed again as her eyes zoomed in on Spike’s backside.

“I’d much rather sit and look at Spike all day than listen to another one of Juniper Montage’s presentations on the existence of ‘magical creatures’,” Dash put in.

Ah, Juniper Montage. Film director Canter Zoom’s niece, who dreamed of becoming an actress herself one day, her poor people skills and social awkwardness made her oblivious to the discomfort she caused others. She came off as a know-it-all; obsessive, extremely ambitious, highly resourceful, and desperate to prove herself, especially to her uncle, who she openly resented for not taking her seriously.

Suddenly, a dark cloud settled over the courtyard as everyone turned their heads and saw Juniper Montage chewing out a group of boys whose uniforms were “not up to standard.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Shirts are to be buttoned and belts fastened at the waist!” she shouted.

Almost as soon as Juniper was done ripping into them, she started ripping another group of boys: Hoops Dunkington, Dumb-Bell and Score—the same trio that used to bully Fluttershy—who were looking at a magazine. Hoops, the one that was holding the magazine, snapped it shut.

“Is that pornographic material you’ve got there?” Juniper asked them.

“No, it’s just a magazine,” Hoops said. “It’s got some bikini pin-ups, but they’re tasteful, we swear!”

“Confiscated!” Juniper shouted as she snatched it out of his hands.

“That is so unfair!” Hoops exclaimed. “You girls get to do whatever you want, but we guys get punished for every little thing?”

“Talk about inequality of the genders,” Dumb-Bell grunted.

“If you’re gonna be tough on us you have to be tough on the girls, too!” Score added.

Juniper scowled. “You’re right. But inappropriate content is banned, no matter who is in possession of it,” she said. She glanced at Spike out of the corner of her eye and yelled, “What are you looking at?!”

He snorted in reply as he started his motorcycle and sped off as the school’s bell rang.

“Isn’t he just the cutest?” a charmed Fluttershy gushed.

“I dunno, he seemed really down,” Rainbow Dash noticed. “Sometimes I wish I could figure him out.”

“I know,” said Pinkie. “He acts so together, but he’s really very lonely. The poor guy...”

“It must be cool to have everything,” Sunset added.

“Well, I wouldn’t know!” Rarity remarked rather covetously.

“Go easy on him, Rarity,” Applejack said. “It’s not easy growin’ up an orphan.”

The girls—especially Applejack, Sunset and Fluttershy—all watched him go with feelings of great sympathy. For as long as they’d known him, Spike had been a fighter. He’d always had to fend for himself. And it was because of this that they saw themselves as the closest thing to family Spike had. In their minds, they were the closest things he had to friends.

They simply could not imagine what it was like being the wealthiest, and handsomest, philanthropist in Equestria’s history. From the outside, Spike’s life was a dream.

He had the freedom to pick and choose what—and whom—he wanted. He enjoyed the freedom that came with bachelorhood. Yet, for all of his public prestige, Spike Zenith was a very private man who rarely discussed personal topics. And because he was such a recluse, he was seen as an incredibly snobbish, self-centered and uncaring elitist prick.

Nevertheless, Spike saw this as a small price to pay to keep the truth secret, to make sure no one would ever associate him with the Equestrian Dragon.

But all of that was about to change...