The Life and Times of the Equestrian Dragon

.

Pendragon Castle stood on the outskirts of New Canterlot City. It was the only Equestrian castle ever imported stone by stone from Scoltland, and Spike was tremendously proud of it. It was his home, and it was more than what most people imagine. A magnificent colossal bastion that looked like it had been carved out of charcoal and black onyx, adorned with marble statues (mostly angels and dragons), this impressive structure was by all odds the finest home in Equestria, and yet some of the people felt it gave the country a certain licentiousness. With so many chimneys, the roof seemed a vast cemetery, each flue signifying the burial place of some old forgotten deity of fire. And every detail from the driveway to the lawn was expensive. But the most impressive thing about it all was that it stood near the base of Mount Drago, a majestic, pyramid-like mountain with a snowcapped peak.

Spike drove his motorcycle around the stone lions that spat water into the fountain out front, parked in front of the Castle’s main entrance, swung off his motorcycle after he shut off the engine and left it in the driveway, knowing that it would be parked in the garage later. He walked up the stone steps to the large, heavy, oak double doors emblazoned with dragons, and they opened into a vast, dark foyer with a large crystal chandelier and marble columns on either side of him.

He went inside, taking his shoes off as soon as the doors shut behind him. It was silent. Spike could hear nothing but the sound of his own footsteps as he walked along the imposing marble-floored hall, which the maids were currently polishing, shedding his clothes piece by piece until he was in the buff.

Luna, clothed in a form-fitting black suit coat and skirt, greeted him as he passed the conservatory filled with almost every plant imaginable, from wild red rose bushes to giant Venus fly traps.

“Welcome home, Sir,” she said, trying hard to not look down at his crotch. “You must be exhausted. Shall I bring you something to drink?”

“Just cocoa,” Spike replied as he stepped further into the house. “With dinner,” he added. “Thank you.”

“Certainly,” said she. “I’ll start making it right away.”

The inside of Pendragon Manor was fabulous, huge and beautifully furnished. A dozen silver-trimmed emerald green tapestries with the same image of a purple dragon embroidered on them hung from the high ceiling on either side of the grand staircase.

In addition to three new guest bedrooms, Spike had five 100% marble bathrooms installed and each had a combination shower bathtub with gold-plated showerheads and faucets. The living room area, with a large table and armchairs in the middle, had a polished hardwood floor, veined mahogany walls, and a grand piano that was always kept tuned.

Most of the objects in and around Spike’s home he had acquired over many years, including a collection of Reneighssance paintings, several dozen Kirin vases, thousands of Aquastrian coins (all priceless), and a tropical fish tank full of Jockeypanese fighting fish; beautiful, graceful, elegant, yet single-minded in purpose, and deadly when they found what they wanted. A stuffed boar’s head was mounted on the wall of the west wing above a line of suits of medieval armor wielding axes, and a cuckoo clock of the castle (built to scale). A figurine of Spike in his dragon form emerged from the tallest tower and the dragon breathed a small green flame with each chime of the bell before retracting.

The kind of things you see in rich people magazines.

Celestia, in a translucent white gown, was reclining on the chaise longue in the lounge and sipping a cup of tea when Spike walked to the rotary dial phone that rested comfortably on a tiny table made of Brayzilian rosewood. He frowned as he noticed the blinking red light on the answering machine, hit the play button, and began to listen to the voicemails.

“You have four new messages,” the machine said. “Message one...”

“Spike? It’s Nosey, Nosey News. Are you there? I know you’re listening to these messages. Look, if it’s about that article, blame Inky Quills. I had nothing to do with that, I swear... Call me, okay? I miss you, Spikey.”

“‘Spikey’?” Celestia echoed.

“Message two...” the machine went on.

“Spike, it’s Sweet Biscuit. You do remember me, right? I had so much fun the other night. You are nothing like what I read in the papers. Anyway, call me when you get this. I got a couple of cute friends who can’t wait to meet you...”

“Message three...”

“Mr. Zenith, Filthy Rich calling. I apologize for going via your direct line, but I grow tired of this routine. Rich Enterprises Incorporated has made a very generous offer for Zenith Industries’ Experimental Tech and Weapons Division, yet your persistent unavailability begins to look less like a busy social schedule and more like deliberately antagonistic behavior. Come now, meet with me. I’m sure we can come to an agreement. A man of your refined taste doesn’t need an Experimental Tech and Weapons Division. He needs another trillion dollars,”

Filthy Rich was a fine businessman, but a bit of a thug. Fortunately, his bark was worse than his bite. Unfortunately, Spike had experienced both.

“Message four...”

“Spike, it’s Bonbon. You’re coming to Moon Dancer’s birthday party next week, aren’t you? No one’s seen you in months, Spike. And you taught me the importance of keeping up appearances.”

That message was several days old, as were all the others; proof that Spike didn’t check his home phone very often.

“End of messages...”

Spike had had a very long day, and it still wasn’t over. After Celestia finished her tea, she changed into a white sports bra with golden trim and matching shorts and joined Spike (who had put on a black T-shirt and shorts) in his private gym to train.

As well as a keen analytical mind, Spike had a body schooled in every known fighting discipline known to mankind. Part of his training was an extensive workout routine he picked up in his time in Feudal Jockeypan from a Ronin—a samurai without a master—named Midnight. It was Monday, which meant it was a day for self-control, balance and coordination. He had started with a 30-minute jog in the morning followed by 30 minutes of traditional kata (with focus on his Jockeypanese forms). Then in the evening, it was 5 sets 20-foot rope climb, 30 minutes gymnastic rings (work on muscle ups in particular), high box jumps—12 reps/8 sets, crunches—50 reps/5 sets, 30 minutes heavy bag, 30 minutes flexibility, and 30 minutes target practice.

Tomorrow would be Tuesday, which meant he would start with a 30-minute jog in the morning, followed by 30 minutes of yoga instead of meditation. And for the evening: a ½ mile swim, heavy dead lift—5 reps/7 sets at 620 lbs., followed by a lighter dead lift—30 reps at 310 lbs., and finally 30 minutes of sparring.

There was a time when the word “dragon” was synonymous with “sexy.” They were creatures of immense magical power, some of the most powerful creatures in all the realms. But in order to unlock his full potential, Spike had to master the fundamentals: Dragon Fire (his ability to breathe it and use it as a weapon), Dragon Fangs (a strong bite for self-defense as well as offensive attacks), Dragon Snout (sense of smell), Dragon Eyes (gaze for intimidation), Dragon Ears (hearing), Dragon Wings (flight), Dragon Claws (combat and climbing), and Dragon Tail (balance and coordination)... not to mention Dragon Tongue and Dragon Penis (to both attract and orally pleasure potential dragoness mates and bear them with child/a suitable heir) one at a time.

Unfortunately, their great power made them emotionally volatile. That’s why Spike had to always keep his emotions in check.

After his workout, Spike wiped his brow with a towel. He pushed open the huge oak door to his private study, entered, then closed and locked the door behind him, leaving the key in the keyhole. There was a huge globe on the floor nearby, a massive, polished desk cluttered with photos and documents, as well as envelope bearing cursive handwriting, and every shelf was lined with books. It was a handsome and masculine room.

Spike walked over to the bookcase built into the wall behind his desk, touched one of the fireproof hardcover books in one of the recessed shelves, the title of which said, The Dragon’s Roar, and tugged on it. A section of the bookcase rotated into the wall, revealing a retinal scanner with a mechanical iris at the back. A red laser projected a grid pattern onto Spike’s eye and scanned his pupil. Then the wall slid open, and Spike ducked through the secret passage as the hidden door closed up behind him.

He hurried down a winding staircase and entered a small room with hanging chains. He pulled on one of the chains, causing the floor beneath his feet to retract, and he fell through into a spiraling tube. As he slid down, a series of hanging torches illuminated the seemingly never-ending ride. Eventually, he landed in a massive subterranean cavern filled with smaller caves, Gothic-style columns, structures and metal catwalks. And a series of torches lit up around the cavernous chamber at the sound of his voice.

It stood in the center of a wide plateau of natural rock, one of many workstations occupying different levels in the vast caverns located beneath Pendragon Castle. Lights placed strategically in the vaulted ceiling shone down on an array of highly sophisticated computers and an interlocking arrangement of laboratories furnished with state-of-the-art equipment, all designed to provide the best in crime-solving techniques. Ramps connected the workstations to a gallery of strange souvenirs and trophies from the past—hundreds of items of immense magical power and various mementos from his enemies, including mortar cannons and cannonballs, and a giant wagon full of Union and Confederate uniforms, as well as relics from the First Great War (the Thousand Year War), the Second Great War (World War I according to mortal/human history books), the Equestrian Revolutionary War, the Equestrian Civil War, and the Third Great War (World War II)—not to mention an assortment of high-tech vehicles that provided unparalleled transportation capabilities in the air, on or beneath water, and on the highway.

One level was filled with nothing but clear, tube-shaped display cases, each one housing a different keepsake from Spike’s many exploits; including a wide variety of axes, blades, arrows, giant harpoons, caltrops, poison darts, invisibility potions, scrolls, magic orbs, telescopes, compasses, tabards, capes, chainmail shirts, gloves, scabbards, 869 metal and wooden shields, 70 pairs of tall black leather boots (designed for all types of weather), 976 daggers, 765 sets of leather armor, over thirty-five-hundred training manuals, fourteen-hundred crystal shards (from deep underground caverns), 203 meteor fragments, 32 tornados in jars, bars of iron and steel, bottles of oil, pieces of cloth, common herbs, several lengths of rope and bits of string.

Another level housed a hall of trophies, which consisted of glass jars filled with various body parts from the numerous monsters and mythical titans Spike had defeated over the years (everything from Dragon Roosters to Harpies). His latest additions were the remains of two water dragons--their tails, two fangs, one’s skull, both their beaks, their spines and their hearts; two “stoneskin” dragons--one’s skull, one’s tail, one’s shell, a fang and both of their spines; and two red dragons--two tails, one beak and one spine... for a grand total of 282 shells, 227 fangs, 325 tails, 239 eyes, 274 beaks, 239 plumes, 280 spines, 81 hearts, and 60 skulls.

More torches lit the massive space as Spike exited the armory, where he kept a collection of various suits of armor--modern as well as ancient--as part of his study of military history; including ones worn by Medieval Europonean knights, desert nomads, and Jockeypanese Samurai warriors throughout the centuries, as well as the remains of a purple speckled egg (his egg that he had hatched from), and made his way to the cavern’s inner sanctum, where a computer screen the size of a billboard hung over the precipice. He slumped into the chair in front of the console, turned on the news feed, and started typing.

“The Senate is expected to vote on this tomorrow,” Inky Quills reported. “It was another brutal week in Equestria. A string of home invasions rippled through New Canterlot’s already crime-infested South Side. And we have breaking news tonight—five terrorists are in custody after an attempted break-in at the Capitol Building. The notorious Equestrian Dragon was on the scene... In thirty years’ time, our nation’s crime rate has risen to a worldwide high. And according to the latest national poll, fear of dragons is at an all-time high. How long must our country live under siege? Is there no hero among us? Who can stop the Equestrian Dragon? Join us tonight for an in-depth report.”

“Next up, trillionaire Spike Zenith contributed an unprecedented sum to New Canterlot City’s hospitals,” Nosey News said. “And in other news, tonight is the grand opening of Club Pegasus, New Canterlot City’s newest nightspot. Count on high society to flock to Cozy Glow’s very exclusive opening night celebration.”

“Which Spike Zenith will be there to endure,” Spike thought to himself.

As Spike searched the computer’s database, Fancy Pants approached the nearby wet bar and poured himself a brandy. As Fancy lifted the glass and uncorked the decanter, his ears perked when he heard Spike say that Cozy Glow had been working her way into New Canterlot City’s big league with the opening of her new nightclub.

As much as Spike hated to admit, it was a massive feat of architectural engineering. Built by the only surviving member of a wealthy high-society family, Cozy Glow had invested her inheritance and seven years of her life to construct it. Spike soon realized that Cozy Glow had made a grave mistake by building it on the sacred burial ground of Vladimir M. Balmer, otherwise known as the legendary vampire Zudak the Barbarian. Of course, Balmer/Zudak had been dead (or rather, undead) for quite some time and his crypt remained undisturbed. But the sounds and vibrations from the energy above would awaken him sooner or later, and Spike would have to prepare for that eventuality.

Spike pulled up everything he could find on Cozy Glow. There wasn’t much to go on except that she was an internet idol of the exhibitionist kind. She posted all kinds of pictures of herself from sort-of-sexy to naughty bikini shots; stuff that was right up Score, Dumb-Bell and Hoof Dunkington’s perverted alley. To most people, she was of the pure-hearted angel variety with a bit of a mischievous side. At present, she was the most famous of all the net idols; the number of visits to her website alone was scary. And because of that, she could easily manipulate anyone. All men were completely under her spell; they were absolutely powerless against her.

As Spike looked at the photos on Cozy Glow’s website, he couldn’t help but think that she looked strikingly similar to the pink Pegasus he had seen with Tirek the night before, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. And what little info Spike had been able to dig up on Club Pegasus itself was that it served hors d’oeuvres as well as cocktails, the music was mostly electronic or “progressive” rock, and all the bouncers were six-foot-four ex-wrestlers.

“Pendragon Castle has the master bedroom, 75 guest bedrooms, 67 bathrooms, a living room, a den, a smoking lounge, two dining halls, four kitchens, three ballrooms, five libraries, a conservatory, a billiard room, a music room, a drawing room, a private study, a 30-lane bowling alley, and a home movie theater,” Fancy Pants said as he picked up a silver jigger. “And yet I always find you down here... in a cold, wet hole in the ground.”

“You know I’m more at home here than the rest of the castle put together,” Spike told him. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m finished. People with regular jobs can do their work anywhere, but for me... this is my office.”

“I agree, it isn’t ‘normal’ work,” Fancy Pants said as he sipped his brandy. “Even worse, the best outcome is that no one ever finds out you’ve done it.”

“Yeah, well, good deeds often go unnoticed,”

“Though not unappreciated,” Fancy said as he watched the news.

“Chief Ganache, can you verify rumors that it was the Equestrian Dragon who apprehended crime boss Maretini and his gang?” one reporter inquired.

New Canterlot City’s Chief of Police, Chocolate Ganache, was the exact opposite of the rest of his department: thin dirty hair with sky-high blood pressure and the blotchy red and gray complexion of an unfit, overweight mess... in short, an incompetent waste of space.

“Do you know of anyone who’s actually seen this Equestrian Dragon?” The fat police chief spoke in a wheezing gasp which would have been a shout if it hadn’t been strangled by bad lungs. “Of course not, because he is what’s called an ‘urban myth.’”

The local police knew little about the Equestrian Dragon, the criminal elements were beginning to realize that he was threat to them, there was still a widespread speculation and skepticism regarding his existence, and conflicting reports if he was only one man or many.

“Why that cheeky...” Fancy Pants began.

“It’s all right, Fancy,” Spike said. “The Equestrian Dragon is exactly where he likes it: hovering just below the radar.”

“You were never one to bask in glory, sir,” Fancy Pants replied.

In addition to Spike and Fancy Pants, the cavern was host to numerous other inhabitants, their presence signaled only by the faint, ceaseless rustling of their leathery wings high above. Fancy Pants turned and crossed the plateau toward the man working intently at the long lab table on the other side of the huge cave. Spike didn’t look up as Fancy joined him; he was focused on his work. Fancy raised a thin, dark eyebrow as he peered over Spike’s shoulder.

“May one inquire as to what that is?” he asked, pointing at the object in Spike’s hand.

Spike brushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead. He was poking at a fragment of discolored glass with a tiny pair of forceps.

“It’s a piece of the windshield from the late Ragamuffin’s boat,” Spike said as he placed the shard under a specially designed microscope.

Spike reached out and pressed a small button on the console in front of him. To his right, a rectangular section of metal flipped open. He placed the glass fragment into the shallow chamber and pushed the lid shut. With his left hand, he tapped rapidly on the computer’s keyboard. An enlarged image of the glass shard appeared on the monitor above the lab table, the degree of amplification specified in blue numbers in the lower right-hand corner of the computer screen. Other information was given in green on the left. The numbers and letters changed rapidly as Spike’s hand played over the keyboard and the magnification increased until he could see the chemical makeup of the greasy substance covering the glass.

“There’s a residue baked onto it,” he mused thoughtfully. “Some kind of chemical... a dense long-chain macromolecular polymer... adaptogenic...”

“Of course,” Fancy agreed, humoring his boss as he turned with a miniscule shrug.

The cylindrical elevator that connected the cave to the castle above slid open, revealing Celestia, who had showered and was now dressed in a tight, white mini dress that barely covered her thighs (one that was made for clubbing).

“You look lovely,” Spike told her.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Just my old dress made over, but it did turn out rather nicely.”

Dinner at Pendragon Castle was served precisely at 4:00 p.m. and traditionally consisted of a grass-fed local sirloin steak, well done; an oven-baked golden potato, asparagus sautéed in garlic butter, roasted red pepper soup with smoked Gouda.

Luna came in carrying Spike’s and Fancy Pants’ meals on a large silver platter: the sirloins, potatoes, asparagus, and two bowls of the red pepper soup. And for Spike, a cup of hot chocolate and two little white pills on a small dish to the side of the tray.

“The soup is hot, the steaks are well done, the cocoa made with whole milk, and the extra strength painkillers are for your migraine,” she said, motioning to each of them after setting them down on the console next to Spike.

Spike sniffed the cocoa appreciatively, smiling at the milk at the top that had foamed to form the image of a heart, and raised the mug to his lips.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “Some days I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“For starters, you would do your own laundry,” Luna replied. “By the way, Spike Zenith is expected to appear at Moon Dancer’s birthday party at the grand opening of Club Pegasus tonight. I’ve laid out your clubbing suit and shined your best shoes. They are waiting for you in your bedroom upstairs, as is your invitation.”

“That’s tonight already?” he asked.

He’d already forgotten, even after Minuette had been at his office to personally remind him a few hours earlier.

“Yes, sir, and since the party was planned by Spike Zenith, and you are the one who paid for said party, it would be impolite for you not to make an appearance,” Luna advised before she headed toward the spiral staircase that led back up to the castle. “We shall be taking the Buick this evening. It will be idling out front with a full tank of gasoline.”

Spike started to protest when Luna added, “For the Equestrian Dragon to remain below the radar, Spike Zenith must occasionally venture above it. The party is in exactly one hour. Let’s try not to be late, as usual.”

Spike tore himself away from his investigation before anything started to get cold.

As he watched Luna leave via the stone steps that led up to the secret passage hidden behind the grandfather clock in the main library, Spike couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She and Celestia both loved him very much, and he hated himself because he felt that he did little more than take them for granted. Deep down Spike knew that some days he couldn’t even find a pair of matching socks without their help.

“How does she put up with me?” he thought out loud. He turned to Celestia, gazing at her passionately, and asked, “How do you put up with me?”

“Well, you do have $27 nonillion dollars in gold, silver and precious gems, a castle with indoor and outdoor Coltympic-size swimming pools, a car for every day of the year, your own personal fleet of private jets, a submarine with its own ZIP code, and no less than two of everything else,” she replied.

“Are those the only reasons?” he asked her.

She kissed him strongly on the lips. “No. You also have the sexiest ass I have ever seen on any male... dragon, mortal or otherwise.”

Celestia followed her sister, and Spike couldn’t help but smile at her words.

“Fancy Pants, did you hear that?”

“Indeed, sir,” he replied, somewhere between smiling and stone-faced. “Miss Soleil worships your ass. I am most delighted for you.”

After they ate dinner in the cave, Spike and Fancy Pants went up the stone steps—a different set that led to the kitchen.

Later, in his master bedroom upstairs, Spike disrobed once more and took a quick shower. Then he put on the clothes Luna had laid out for him.

Like his private study, Spike’s boudoir was a masculine room. It offered every amenity and elegance, but it retained a manly air. There was a huge trunk at the foot of the bed, and there were matching armories in the two rear corners. Across from the fireplace and facing the windows was a large oak desk, and closer to the sunlight was a small round table covered simply in white linen. An open doorway led to a dressing room. Spike strode to the doorway and stepped through. To the far rear of the small room was a rack hung with coats and other apparel.

He then picked out a full length black Crombie that just barely touched the ground, fit snugly above his waist, had a 40-inch chest because he needed the sleeve length, and draped out into an A-line below. Spike then straightened his immaculately knotted tie as he walked back to the bathroom and looked himself in the mirror... and saw his father staring back at him.

The words “I will not be around forever,” still echoed in his ears.

.

Locke had explained to his son that dragons were not the only magical creatures living on earth and that some humans had been born immortal. Spike also learned that the Immortals had been waging a secret war since the Thousand Year Conflict, fighting and killing each other until the last remaining few would meet at a yet-to-be-determined point in time to fight for some “grand prize.”

He helped Spike to gain better control of his powers and strengthen his abilities, which would came in very handy when he’d be confronted by his many enemies.

“Were you seen?” he asked Spike after he’d survived his first real battle.

Spike shook his head.

“In this you must never lapse. Even those who would be your allies would not understand. Your domain is the shadow, stray from it reluctantly. For when you do, you must strike hard and fade away... without a trace,”

“I lost a fang,”

“Then it is lost,”

“I can get it back--”

“Spike... let it go,” his father had said. “Your skills are reaching their peak. Only one truly important lesson remains, but must wait. I know how difficult it has been for you. Your mind is broad and eager, but you must never stop trying to better yourself. You are still young, but one day, I will be gone. Use my teachings wisely.”

Spike was a Dragon, like his parents were before him, their parents before them, their parents, and six generations back. And he missed out on many things; while his friends went to parties and the movies, he was battling everything from giants and demons to hairy, twelve-eyed spiders and bullywugs (nasty, brutish humanoid frogs armed with tridents). And the worst of it all was he couldn’t even share that info with anyone.

“This is your burden, and you must bear it alone. It is your destiny. I know you can rise to meet it,” his father had said.

And as time went by, Spike grew and became the wealthiest guy in the world. He was the handsomest, most available bachelor, and he owned the biggest, most successful company, as well as being able to change into his dragon form... and nobody knew that the dragon was him.

.

Spike shook off the memories and looked at a portion of the bathroom wall next to the mirror, where he had punched a hole in it years ago. It had since been repaired, but the memory kept coming back.

“Great, another thing I have to fix,” he’d grumbled to himself.

That’s when Celestia had walked in on him.

“Spike, I know this has been hard on you,” she had said. “I mean, first, you find out you’re a dragon...”

“Oh, I’ve always known that,” he’d told her. “It was the whole, ‘Oh, and by the way, you’re responsible for the protection of an entire magical underworld’ that’s got me so upset.”

“Well, that’s why it’s so important for you to master your powers,” Celestia had told him. “Believe me, I know Star Swirl can be eccentric at times, but you just have to trust him.”

And trust him Spike did... up until the day he died, when Spike witnessed the wizard’s murder at the hands of an evil necromancer.

Now, as the Equestrian Dragon (one of the world’s most loyal defenders), Spike patrolled the Equestrian mainland and its surrounding territories—from sea to shining sea—using his mental strength and physical superiority as a dragon to bring his enemies to justice.

Once again, Spike was brought out of his memories by Celestia, who placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What were you thinking about just now?” she asked.

“I was thinking about the last time we were here,” he replied. “Just like this.”

Celestia smiled knowingly and said, “Come on. Let’s go.”

The pair made their way downstairs, where Fleur was making fun of Fancy Pants as he put on his gold cuff links.

“You’re kind of feminine, you know that?” she asked him.

Not at all startled by the cheap insult, Fancy Pants countered with, “Oh, and which of us can only go to cool parties because her man was invited?”

“Touché,” Fleur replied.

The group made their way out the front door and down the steps, ready to go to the party. They each opened a door handle and climbed inside the Buick—Spike took the driver’s seat, Celestia the front passenger side, Fleur de Lis sat behind her, and Luna took the back seat behind the driver (Spike), with Fancy Pants wedged in between Fleur and Luna.

“Luna, would you hold Moon Dancer’s present until we get there?” Spike asked.

“I still fail to see why I have to attend a party of one of your cohorts,” Luna told him.

“Because men find you attractive, sister,” Celestia answered.

“Shut. Up,” Luna replied.

“It’s true, Lulu. Everyone thinks you’re beautiful,” Celestia said.

“Now, listen up,” Spike told them before they took off. “Moon Dancer is my friend, and I flake out on her enough with all the fights I get into, so all four of you had better behave.”

The charismatic quartet nodded in reply as Spike turned the keys in the ignition and he drove them back to the city.