You'll be Led to Me Again
Please Don't Leave Me!
B_25
Everything outward settled in composure as everything inward set upon its own collapse. You were tired, and you did not know the day, the year, or more importantly: the time. You had your duties. You saw them through. And time was the existence of the length they took and the distance until the next.
The toned velvet sea wasn't felt beneath your hooves. Golden regalia, frozen metal, separated the carpet from your hooves. The greatest fabric, the finest cut, and the strain of maintenance— all for it to go unfelt by the one who owned it all. What was the point of such possessions, if one did not experience them?
Appearances.
The voice is both was and was not your own. Your eyes closed as you suppressed it, and the guards stiffed at seeing this. They had no clue about your internal turmoil. That a princess was still a pony. You were a goddess on a higher level of existence.
Their worries would not concern you, but the possibility of you having sense something in them. These guards, these mortals, were imperfect. No amount of training can cease them from being living things.
Only better hide it.
Your eyes reopened slowly, and you found yourself still steady on your path. It always amused you that every day felt like this would be it. The day that you break. The one where the glass shatters and the castle fall to shambles. Where the world sees the weakness within you—and seeks to bring it out.
But your legs carry you as they should, and you walk with a gait that washes off a roll of power. Some stumbled as you passed them. They were knocked by some invisible force. You kept along because you had to.
Because you should.
Eventually, after turning a corner, you found yourself in a narrow hallway. Your door sits at its end. Two guards flank it but, with a nod from yourself, they salute, and begin to march past you. You don't watch them leave, but wait for their hoofsteps to disappear.
And once they do, with you closer to the door now, you lay your head on the frame. The tip of your horn ticked the ceiling as your forehead ground against the wood. More of your weight flooded through that spot, the pressure carrying through your forelegs.
You wondered that, if you were to slump, to fall and just sleep here... what really was the worst that could come from it?
Your legs buckled.
But then a wail from within shot open your eyes.
You blinked more than twice as the present swam into view. Suddenly, the world took to colours, the door smelling of oak, its texture smooth upon your snout. You sniffed the hint of a summer forest, and sunlight from the side warmed your coat.
Somehow, you'd come alive, as the cries carried on.
Your hoof raised toward the handle of the door, turning it, before pushing it open. The creaks seeped in the loudness of the crying. The wailing of a baby, small, curt, and tapered by growing teeth. You strolled into the room and closed the door behind you as you did, hearing the wood shackle back into place.
Even though your vision was detailed and delicate in colours, the brilliance of existence loomed to the sides as blurs. Your eyes were on the bed, which came in full clarity, as well as the blind drawn over it.
You planned on its nap being long, but you hadn't thought that court would have been longer.
Slowly, carefully, as though walking across glasses of wine, you walked to before the bed, where the wailing of the baby was without end. It was nothing like the tears of a colt. It was more primal. A sharp sound that bit through the skin.
It was as though you had left behind a crying shark.
But your hoof rose and slid the curtain aside. Looking down at the expanse of the mattress, right at the center of it, the baby dragon was curled into itself. It was no bigger than a ball as its tail curved from up between its legs.
Its petite, barely formed claws gripped that tail, crying into it. Wiggle into the thing as though it was the only external support it had. Yet, it was not enough. Whatever had come over it, nothing from itself could solve the baby's trouble.
“Shhuuush... shuuush now...”
The baby curled into itself more and cried harder for it, struck by terrible pain, a feeling which it would not comprehend. One never thought about what sends a little one into tears. The bed was soft, and it had been fed. In its limited experience of life, nothing had changed...
...except that you had left, and that you had left it by itself.
"Hey... hey!" You sink your chest onto the bed and feel it lean beneath your weight. Your elbows sunk into the mattress as you hovered your hooves over the baby. It still wailed, though it blinked through its tears. "I'm back now. Please, do not worry."
You'd been many things in this life.
But a parent was not one.
But the baby was led by your voice. It did not understand sounds or noises, words or actions. Everything was an unknown, and it could barely comprehend its own existence. It was nothing more than a bundle of nerves, which too were underdeveloped, and its life was a reaction to everything else.
Despite that. It searched for you. Even though your words were awkward, and your soothing could use some work, the baby was drawn by your voice. The baby dragon was led by something to come and find you. Everything must have been a haze of colours to it. Blobs of matter barely more than fuzz on the eye.
Yet when it looked at you, its crying came too slow, its wailing, softening, as its little shoulders no longer shook uncontrollably. Still though. It cried. Tearing up. Looking at you like a wound does to a bandage.
And your heart throbbed blood.
"That's right." You did your best to smile, swallowing something down, be it pain or sorrow—it did not matter. "I'm here now. You don't have to cry anymore. Everything will be okay." There was no point in speaking words to a baby. It wasn't like it could understand what you were saying—or if the sound of your voice was any different from the other sounds.
Yet its tiny frills twitched at your tone, and its eyes shone through the haze of its infantile vision. Those emerald gems locked onto you in a sudden fascination. It wasn't due to you being a princess. Or even you being Celestia.
It was you being you.
And you being here.
You had others tend to the dragons. Some quit huffing, and others came bleeding from miniature cuts. The dragon settled on seeing you, although it occasionally puffed. You needed to calm it down fully. Lowering your hoof to its cheek, slowly, you went to cusp it.
Only for the dragon to scarily look at the hoof incoming and, on being touched by it, to break out into a sudden shriek. It rolled in place, eyes shut, as it hollowed its pain. The sound sliced your heart away until only its final chords remained.
"No, no! None of that now! Please, stop crying!"
Please, stop crying? That's all an immortal has to say?
Although...
...you didn't say much differently to me.
"I'm here now! I'm here! Celestia's here! W-What else do you want?"
The baby kept on crying and trying to roll away from your hoof. You pulled it back to your face to see your reflection in the gold. In a series of blinks, the problem became clear. Yet... you were hesitant to do anything about it.
Those horseshoes. The regalia you wore over your chest. The tiara that announced you to be a princess of the lands. These were things you wore to make yourself feel like something more. When you slipped into those shoes... once that harness was strapped on... you went from a mare to a princess.
From nothing.
To something.
Your identity laid within those objects. What the world saw you as. Even Twilight Sparkle was more used to seeing you with it on than off. Your previous student before her was the same.
Your failures are without an end.
You're great at being something, but you're terrible at being someone.
The world worships you.
And for what?
Do they ever address the loss of your sister? The role you played in that? What of your student, Twilight Sparkle? What right do you have to think that she will be different? You failed with me. You failed with Sunset Shimmer. When it comes to you being a mare, to you being a someone, you always fail.
There was something else in the room, another presence, standing in the shadows. Its eyes burned blue, and its mouth caused the darkness to move. You paid it no mind, focusing on the baby.
It continued to cry.
Still, you stared at the underside of your show, at the princess that looked back at you.
What makes you think this time will be different? That Twilight is unstable, and your presence itself sends her into a neurotic craze. Now you bring a dragon into all of this? One to be raised by ponies of all things? Or do you carry the silly notion that you will be a mother to the thing?
You glared at your hoof and brought it back to the bed, sliding the instrument off before doing the same with the rest. From the corner of the room, the figure walked out, the phantom of Nightmare Moon. You did barely more than glare at it as you undressed.
You couldn't support your family, and you couldn't save those whom you adopted into it. Now you're trying your luck with a dragon of all creatures? One forced to learn virtues over his instinct? To never have others like his own to relate to? Is it your wish to cast your loneliness of being an alicorn onto him?
The golden shoes pelted the bed as the harness dropped from your chest and struck the ground. The weight of the world lifted from your soul, and you could float in simply being still. Slowly, while shushing your lips, you brought your hoof back to the face smaller than your soles.
"Hey... hey now... I'm here now..." Your hoof lowered to its face and, even though it rocked away, every few seconds, it would roll back into the fluff of your sole. Slowly, it felt your fur, and seeped into it. Its eyes were clenched, but little by little, they opened by a wiggle. "I-I know... I know I can't be much more than that... but I'm here... I'm here for you now..."
The baby settled into your hoof, nuzzling into its broad size, and then, against all expectation, it started to laugh. Its little body thumped into the blanket as it buried itself inside your hoof. Its jabby snout tickled the underside of your hoof, the spines sharp like jagged spikes.
Then its little arms reached around your hoof, those soft little claws, settling beneath your coat and into your skin. It clung to you. Attached to you. You felt him, too. The smoothness of his scales and the little breaths he expelled. His scales were smooth like polish. There was a crackling of a pur, like a fireplace given a set of lungs. It warmed you just the same.
Without thought, you crawled into the bed and curled around the dragon. You must have been a white dam to him as you came to settle on your back. Then, with your other free foreleg, you came to cup the diminutive creature. You raise him through the air, making an explosion of air as you did so before settling him onto your belly.
The tiny little dragon settled onto your tummy with a squeak of laughter as well. The beast barely rose above your coat as its claws took to digging into your skin. It made you flinch, but the pain was worth the contact.
Never had something touched you before. Been so close, so personal, so real to you. Laying on your back, you watched as the dragon crawled up, barely, on all fours. Falling on his elbows with laughter as he would disappear beneath the snowy grass.
You couldn't help but cheer, wishing him across, wanting nothing but the best for him. Even if he were to fail, you would embrace him the same, as was the desire deep within you. You've never been this close with another. Twilight Sparkle was family, but she was not your daughter.
But this little creature, no barely bigger than a tennis ball, crawled across your body on itty-bitty claws and paws. It wiggled across you, touching places unfelt before. It caused you to feel alive, like you were someone.
Because this wasn't a noble who wanted some favour, and your exchange was some game.
Nor was this a stallion trying to woo you in his ways.
This wasn't a foe whom you had to battle.
Or a friend you had to impress.
This was a baby. Your baby. That wanted nothing more to be with you.
Not a princess.
Not Celestia.
You.
Where will you find the time? How will you raise it, teach it, while still running a school, while keeping a nation intact? From the side of the bed walked the Nightmare, towering over the mattress. It looked down from the moon at you. Can you care for it the same? Give it all the attention and love it will need? Would you even be able to defend it from me?
Your hooves crossed over the boy at once as your eyes narrowed on the Nightmare. Though your horn did glow, you knew it to be a flaw, as none of this was real after all. The projection snickered, and your shoulders deflated.
But then there was a wriggling beneath your wrists.
You checked across the landscape of your chest to see the little dragon captured there, glad to be pinned by those arms, as the two of them were blankets to him. He snuggled into your chest, into a thick portion of your tuft. Its eyes closed, and it purred a release of smoke.
End your failure early.
You caressed the boy in helping him back to sleep. Your hoof lifted only to stroke the development of his spines. His smile required you to squint, but the perfection of it was worth the effort.
I'll be back soon.
And I won't be alone.
There will be others to challenge you.
You stroked your boy, feeling him rise and fall with the ascent and descent of your breath. Your heartbeat cradled him, rocking him in place. He nuzzled into it, becoming blissful in feeling the vibrations. The dragon didn't understand anything. Yet, in being close to you, was all that he wanted.
Can you be a mother and a princess? Can you defend him from your enemies and be there when he needs you to? Ponies will think Twilight Sparkle is your weakness. Hurt her: they hurt you. What do you think they'll do once they've found you've accepted a kid into your heart?
Your heartbeat became troubled, and the slumbering dragon squeaked out a groan.
He'll be the first we take. The first we hurt. The one we know you'll do anything for. It's not too late to end this quickly. That dragon is young, and he won't even remember all of this. You can save him from being locked away. Although, that isn't his fear.
Your hooves lifted from his body, and you watched him raise with the waves of your chest, how he was curled into himself. Leaning forward, you kissed the top of his head, capturing half of it between your lips.
This dragon isn't by the broken rocks and coursing lava of his home. He's away from dragons, stolen from his family. Even a baby will mourn the loss of their supposed environment—but not him. The only thing that causes him to cry is the lack of you.
Your lips linger as your eyes close, infusing all that you felt into that final kiss. Every ounce of love and turmoil. Even though you had no reason to love this kid, everything within your existence did. Your heartbeat toward him, and your soul was softened by him.
To retire beneath the blankets, with him clutched to your chest, that would be harmony.
But you can't be the mother he needs.
Princess and teacher? You can manage that.
But the greatest pain you can inflict on that dragon... is not to be there.
Save him that turmoil of waiting for you—because you can never be there.
Save him from being hunted by us who lurk on the edge.
Give him a chance at life.
Even if it's a life without you.
Should this connection be real, and this love of yours be true... then surely, he would be led back to you.
There was a knock at the door. Minor knocks from a filly that awkwardly delivered them best. With an exhale, your mind cleared, and the phantom was gone. You looked at the boy, and you cradled him. Coming to rise, coming to stand, you held him to you still as you reached the door.
Pulling it back, you looked at the ground, at the lavender filly who sat on the carpet. Her face took to glee at seeing you—then surprise at the lack of your dress. You smiled in return, before looking down at the one you felt to be a son.
"You wanted me to see you?"
You nodded, smiled, and lowered the baby.
"Indeed." You held him out, and Twilight offered both forelegs at once. She looked at him curiously with a held breath. "It has been a long time since you've hatched his egg. I've seen how much you've developed... and I think you're ready for the responsibility."
You passed the baby into her forelegs, and the filly drew him close, holding him to her chest. Twilight's parents stood several feet behind her, wide-eyed and only now daring to come close. They quickly bowed without much regard. They came to their daughter's side, and the little one would soon be doing the same.
You glanced at the two of them. "I trust this arrangement works comfortably with you?"
They nodded.
"Of course," answered the stallion. "Without hassle!"
You nodded, smiled, and turned around.
"W-Wait!" You turned back around to see Twilight cradling the baby, but looking up at you. "W-What is his name?"
You blinked as you hid away a tear as you returned to your room. You swallowed, taking a few moments to breathe—never wanting to give your weakness or pain away. It was only in loving him that you could be yourself. That you could feel better about yourself in caring for him.
"Spike."
You cleared your throat.
"Spike seems like a good name—but please, call him as you wish."
You closed the door behind you. Second later, crying rose, the wailing of a baby. Once more, you had left him with strangers in a strange world. You felt his little head swinging around, those pinpricks of emerald eyes searching for you.
Something always led him to you.
But now you had shut the door to prevent that.
And, walking to your bed, you redressed like a princess.
You were sitting at your desk when you blinked, and just like that, decades had passed. The passing of time did not matter to an immortal—it was the living beings they cared for that caused the seconds to tick. Yet you sat at the same desk as you had so many years ago, without much change, and with only a few breaks in the repletion.
You sighed as you wrote in a scroll...
...until one burned to life before you.
You blinked at the flash as another scroll dropped from the air. Striking the table, it started to unravel. You noticed the handwriting at once. Your breath caught, and your eyes were set on the page.
Dear Princess Celestia...
Or just Celestia...
It's me. Spike. The dragon. Not sure if you know anyone else named Spike—or dragons, for that matter. You're a princess and all that, so I'm not sure what kinds of mail you get. Then again, I don't think anyone else delivers you letters like this.
Well, other dragons could if they wanted to. Or maybe they already do.
Sorry... I'm losing track!
I was just writing to you about what happened the other day. When I came to see you and... stuff. I, uh, I'm not sure if that really happened. Usually, you'll have an intimate moment with someone or a friend, but after that, everything goes back to the same. Sometimes, whatever happened doesn't even feel like it even happened.
But you helped me a lot then.
I just wanted to say that I'm a bit better on my feet now. That I feel happier... knowing that you're there. I can't remember the last time that I was hugged or... felt so loved. It's weird! It's strange! I was so empty and broken for a while there but, after that time with you, suddenly I'm able to get along now.
I hope that you're okay as well.
I don't really know what it's like being a princess. I mean, compared to you, I don't really have much to complain about! In fact, I still feel guilty about leaving all of that stuff at your hooves—when you already deal with so much more, and do it without breaking apart like I do.
But, then again, you said that loving me caused you to feel good.
Well, not feel good—but something close to that.
I don't know how anyone could feel good loving me. Even saying that feels... wrong? Makes me sound full of myself. But, then again, everyone should be loved, and that should apply to me as well. But when I think of forcing someone to do that, I—
Sorry. Forgo all that.
And second sorry.
I'm not used to writing these. Or writing to you directly. I'm not sure what tone I'm supposed to take. Or what I'm supposed to refer to you as. You said that you're my mother, but I don't want to send you a scroll saying 'how's it going, mom?' because it feels like you need to wait for a few more letters before you can start talking like that.
Do stallions even call their moms' mom at this age?
In either case.
I hope everything is okay with you, mom.
I... love you. Like, love you in the mom kind of way. It's always been there. I've always felt it. But it always felt wrong to label you as something that you weren't. It might have felt like you were something close to a mother to me—but forcing you to go along with that would have been wrong!
Dang it. I'm not making much sense anymore.
In either case.
Love you, mom.
And I hope, uh, that the castle... isn't too bad?
Let me know if you need a spare set of claws to help around.
~ Spike
You stopped reading the letter with an open mouth. Something wet struck the parchment. You blinked, sniffing back the sorrow. Your mind was empty, yet your heart was full. Before you could so much as think, you floated another empty scroll over, raising an ink quill over it.
You thought about what you should write, what you should say and do but, in seeing how the dragon was willing to risk himself on the page—you dared the same. To expose the mare beneath the coat. The soul behind the crown.
You wrote.
Dear Spike,
Or, rather, my son...
Author's Note
