Between a Roc and a Headspace

by Carnelian-Fox

Rating: teen
Tags: Zecora, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Princess Luna, Drama, Ocellus, Smolder, Profanity, Violence
Length: 6154

Smolder's nightmares have been weighing heavily on her, so she goes to the treehouse to clear her head, unfortunately waking up a hungry roc.

Memories of being ostracized by Cozy Glow and the other pony students, and bullied by dragons back home for going to "pony school", haunt Smolder as horrific nightmares that cause her to nearly break. On a particular night, after being awoken by one such nightmare, Smolder flies into the Everfree Forest and accidentally wakes a roc. Can any creature save her? Help her love herself?

Sometimes, we forget we realize how much we might mean to others. Some Smolcellus. Cover art by me.

Rated T for mild language, graphic violence, blood, a near-death experience, emotional abuse and implied physical abuse.

Published 2023-12-17 17:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-12-17 17:30:00 UTC

Between a Roc and a Headspace

Six students at the School of Friendship, founded by Princess Twilight Sparkle, had a very special connection with the Tree of Harmony, or as it was now known, the Treehouse of Harmony. Treehouse was a modest interpretation of the six’s special place, at that; it was more of an arboreal-looking mini-castle. It was a small slice of solace and paradise for Ocellus, Smolder, Sandbar, Gallus, Yona and Silverstream to get away from the stressors of daily life and academia for a little bit, chill and clear their heads. It was also where Silverstream had apparently met her friend and part-time pet cockatrice Edith, which was the kind of thing that would happen to Silverstream.

There was just one little issue with their home away from home, and it was the thing that every realtor or feudal lord would be made to drum into their own skulls: location, location, location. Despite the decades upon decades Ponyville was by it, the Everfree Forest was still one of the most underexplored places in all of Equestria, a treasure-trove of wonder and peril enshrouded under a canopy of leaves.

Smolder felt the cool night air on her scales and would occasionally marvel at the way they reflected the dim glow of the full moon as she flew above the tree line, the sensations doing little to distract her from the nightmares that plagued her. Nightmares blended with harrowing memories. Ghastly vestiges of ponies and dragons staring at her in bewilderment populated her slumber. Some nights, it was because she was in a dress that didn’t quite fit or her makeup was smeared. Others, it was because of a feat of strength that would frighten others. Others still, dragons like her would harangue her, call her weak, some even pinning her to hard stone walls and threatening to show her how “real dragons” behaved, as if she would be ostracized or worse for not fulfilling the stale, damaging stereotypes that provoked fear in the first place.

“Golly, Smolder, I don’t think anypony would want to have a tea party with someone so brutish.” Cozy Glow’s oozy-sweet faux paux of innocence would tell her. “Especially not with those scary fangs!”

In another place in her mind, at another time, the vestige of the petulant xenophobe had remarked, “I heard that Professor Sparkle’s little dragon once had a greed-based growth spurt. Is it true? Better not get too greedy with the magic of friendship.”

“Smolder can turn into a monster?” some of the others would murmur. The anxiety would always jolt her awake before she could scream that it wasn’t true, that she wasn’t a monster, and that friendship was meant to be shared. Besides, Smolder had every reason to believe that dragons were magical in their own right.

While in mid-flight, Smolder put her claws to her muzzle, self-consciously feeling the sharpness of her fangs. Her mind entombed itself in doubt. As much as she wanted to be seen as cool and tough, she didn’t have the heart to be scary. Even if the real Cozy Glow had never said it, at least not to her face in that off-handed demeaning commentary she would do, it was very much something she would have said, and surely something others would have thought. The dragoness told herself again and again that she didn’t need to care about what other creatures thought of her, but there would always be worry at some level. That was the same for every creature, right?

Or maybe I am just a freak…

The dreams where Cozy Glow would berate her, or other students would avoid her like death and gawk at her like a circus act weren’t even the worst dreams. No. The nightmares that hurt the most were the ones where her friends would leave her, one by one. Sandbar and Yona, Silverstream, Gallus… Ocellus. Oh, Ocellus. The one creature she could tell anything. The one creature that let Smolder explore what it meant to be herself, more so than any others. Being left alone by Ocellus and the others would destroy her.

Smolder felt the most like herself when she was with her friends and could experiment with her lifestyle, figuring out what she liked without stigma. If she were to lose that, though, what would she have? A dragon’s bravado? She didn’t have a hoard, not yet anyway. The orange dragon didn’t even consider what she would want in a hoard, or if she wanted to risk scaring her friends and losing her sense of self in a greed-addled growth spurt.

Her doubts plagued her dreams, which sent her waking mind reeling. Smolder was proud to be a dragon, but that was always going to be contentious with history. Ember had been responsible for some drastic cultural shift in the Dragon Lands, however slow that was going, it could only do so much for them across borders. Smolder felt her tears fall behind her as her wings flapped more frantically. The peace and quietness of the Treehouse of Harmony would allow her to clear her head and re-examine her feelings. She knew she mattered, and her friends loved her. She also knew that ponies who thought like Cozy Glow were in the minority. Just how many Cozy Glows were out there, though? How many did she sit next to in class? Did they all view her as a scary winged lizard?

A horrific screech ripped through the still air and gave Smolder a pause. Her blood went cold, the back of her jaw felt numb, and the flapping of wings much larger and much featherier than her own could be heard approaching her. Smolder’s pupils shrank in spite of the darkness as she wiped her tears away and slowly turned around. It was just as she feared, and somehow even more terrifying. A roc, dragon-hunting bird of prey, was sailing through the air and headed right for her.

“Aagh!” Smolder screamed and resumed flying her path, survival her sole focus now. She cursed herself, figuring she had woken the giant raptor up with either her crying or her flying. It wasn’t nearly as potent a signal as the smell of a dragon’s molt, but evidently, it was enough to detect the dragoness in the stagnant darkness. As hard as she flapped and as much as she straightened her body to reduce drag, she could hear the roc gliding behind her, gaining on her. “Get away from me!” With her scream, she whirled around and spat a fireball at it.

The great bird screeched and frantically flapped back in surprise, but any singeing was purely superficial. She had only managed to peeve the predatory bird, flailing her arms as she propelled herself backwards. Smolder knew the best thing was to pivot and fly ahead at full speed, but in the second it would take to do that, the roc could have gripped into her with its talons. Those razor claws were both sharp and strong enough to pierce the scales of almost any dragon, and any that could stand up to the talons would earn her undying respect and praise.

Smolder narrowly dodged a couple of swipes from the mythically proportioned raptor before the creature did something that caught her off guard. It pecked at her with its great, hard beak. She put her arms up, crossing them over her face and chest. A sharp pain burned in her right arm while a dull ache sunk into her left. The faint scent of iron wafted to her nostrils, mixing with the scent of her pursuer’s burnt feathers. While the tip of its hooked beak having drawn blood, the roc’s pupils dilated, glaring at her with gluttonous wrath as it went to grab at her again.

“NO!” Smolder cried out as its talons grew dangerously close, sending another blast of fire towards the looming winged beast. The roc screeched, frantically flapping its wings and stirring up a fierce gust that was too much on her membranous wings. She was sent rolling back through the air, hurtling into the cold ground of a clearing below.

Everything began to hurt all at once as she crashed into the grass and dirt. Smolder rolled and tumbled, leaving divots in the earth as the inertia finally succumbed to the drag. With a groan, she struggled to get to all fours. The nerves in her arms, one bruised and the other bleeding, flared up in protest. Her back ached agonizingly from the bases of her wings to the base of her tail, and her knees buckled to the shifting of her weight. She felt a bit of blood trickle down her muzzle from her left nostril, a couple drops dripping onto the grass beneath her.

Daring to glance at the sky, Smolder saw the roc glaring daggers at her and preparing to dive. Quickly, the dragoness turned her focus to the tree line and began to crawl, clawing herself forward through the dirt with all her might. She couldn’t have said she was surprised, be that because the bird was a persistent predator or because she felt too much dread in her heart to feel anything else.

She originally didn’t want to fight the creature, a shadow in the depths of her mind taunting her about becoming the monster the voices in her nightmares warned of. Now, with survival on the line, Smolder doubted she had the strength left. If she could only get to the trees… She grunted, “Damn… Got to…get…away…!”

The roc dove for her, talons outstretched and eager to grab hold of their prey. Smolder knew she couldn’t drag herself across the clearing’s floor fast enough to get to cover. She rolled over and sought to prepare another fire blast but grimaced from the pain radiating throughout her body. It was no good. Time seemed to slow down. All she could do was grunt in pain and spare one last glance at her demise, the roc being the last creature she would ever see…

Or so she thought. Backlit by the full moon, a pony-like silhouette caught her attention. The new creature had four hooved legs, was built like a pony, but had a narrower snout, and the horn seemed split at the very tip. Most familiar of all were the semi-transparent pink wings and tail. The roc descended, but it would never reach its mark as the teal blue projection of a fist slammed into the bird, sending it careening back. As it struggled and regained its balance in the air, the silhouette flew closer. It really was almost too good to be true. It was Ocellus!

“Ocellus!” Smolder exclaimed. Ocellus descended right in front of her, offering a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Smolder asked her friend, “What are you doing here?”

Ocellus’s smile morphed into something resembling a smirk and she was enveloped in magical green flames. Before the dragoness was the form of Rarity, and in Rarity’s voice, she said, “Come now, darling. I’ve always wanted to rescue the lady fair.” With that said in the poshest way she could think of, Ocellus reassumed her regular form.

Smolder huffed; a blush struck across her face. With a deadpan tone, the dragoness remarked, “Yeah, sass isn’t really your thing.”

Ocellus laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll explain later. Hang tight.” She knew she wouldn’t have time to explain how she had found her friend while danger still flew. Ocellus leapt into the air with impeccable force and then began buzzing her wings, fury burning in her normally kind eyes. Her gaze locked onto the roc; her voice edged with the venom of vitriol as her next words came out. “I know you were just hunting, and I can’t blame you for doing what’s in your nature. Still, you hurt Smolder. You were gonna kill her, and I don’t like buzzards who try to kill my friends.”

Naturally, the roc didn’t respond. It didn’t need to. Its anger was like a flickering fire that refused to be snuffed out, Ocellus could see that much, but it was nothing compared to the swirling rage she felt born of the love she had for her best friend. The bird and the Changeling charged at each other. The roc swung its massive talons in a grab at Ocellus, but she was too quick for it. She turned into a tiny Parasprite at the last second, saying of her dodge, “Right on time!” She flew up along its leg and around its torso before she changed again into a boa constrictor. The bird was stunned and hapless by the sudden appearance of the snake, but Ocellus was far from done. In this serpentine form, Ocellus coiled herself around the roc until she got to its head.

Smolder was so stunned by what she was seeing that the soreness making her body feel like a lead block took a back seat in her mind. What happened next was even more mind boggling, as Ocellus changed into one more form, one she had never seen before and couldn’t place. In a swirl of green fire, the Changeling had taken on a slender bipedal form with long, spindly looking legs that still somehow looked powerful and well-defined, arms that seem to flare at the wrist like sleeves before ending in hands unlike any she had ever seen, and a flatter looking face that made her shimmering blue-green eyes look even bigger and brighter, contrasting beautifully with deep fuchsia lips. Her horn was replaced with curled antennae. Her mane-like head fin was replaced with an actual flowing mane of bright pink that almost seemed to glow as it glistened under the moon. Her wings had transformed into wings resembling a swallowtail butterfly. She was equal parts beautiful and fierce, taking Smolder’s breath away.

With the raptor’s neck between her calves, Ocellus torqued her whole body, running her momentum through her core, bringing the roc up and over her before flinging it mercilessly into the ground below. The roc hit the ground with a booming thud and sent up a great dust cloud as it cratered the earth. Once more, the Changeling was alight with magic as she reverted to her original form, and she descended to Smolder again.

The orange dragon felt her jaw hanging open, blown away by a feat that took the perfect combination of ingenuity, strength and grace to effectively pull off. In the middle of the clearing, the winged beast that had terrorized her now lay motionless on the ground. A long moment rolled by on a gentle breeze across the forest floor before Smolder spoke again. “Is it…dead?”

Taking a deep breath, Ocellus answered, “No. It’s alive. Just knocked out.”

“How can you tell?”

“Changelings have to be able to sense love to feed off it. We could do that with other emotions, too, and we did back when we had to. Its subconscious emotions don’t taste like anything, but there is a texture, if that makes sense,” Ocellus answered simply, tenderly eying Smolder. Then, she laid down and instructed, “Climb on my back. I’ll carry you to the hospital.”

“What? No way!” Smolder protested. “If you’re going to take me anywhere, can’t it be the Treehouse? Or back to the dorms?”

“Smolder, you’re bleeding, you have bruises everywhere and we really ought to have a doctor make sure nothing’s broken. And honestly, I’m worried about you,” Ocellus replied, her voice breaking from being overwhelmed with concern, sadness and relief blended together. “I don’t want you to suffer.”

Her blush returning, Smolder grumbled, “Fine.” Wincing a bit, she climbed onto Ocellus’s back, finding some comfort in her sturdy elytra. She kept the arm that had been pierced by the roc’s beak level, wound facing up. Her other arm found purchase holding onto Ocellus just under her collar bone. The Changeling smiled at the added pressure of Smolder’s weight, coaching herself as she carried the dragon under the protection of the trees.

Smolder was quiet, passively observing the surrounding woods as Ocellus trekked on. It made her consider how far from her intended path she’d strayed in her attempt to flee with her life. Maybe it was because she didn’t share the same appreciation for the forest as other creatures, but the trees all started to look the same.

Exhaling through her nose, Smolder groaned, “There’s no way it’s taking this long to get out of the Everfree.”

“We’re not leaving just yet. Small change of plans,” Ocellus replied stoically. “We’re going to Zecora’s first. First aid to get some pressure on your arm, stop the bleeding. Get you cleaned up a bit. Then I’m taking you to the hospital. Plus, her hut’s not out of the way.” Smolder felt some wetness on her claw and caught a whiff of saline.

Choosing her next words carefully, Smolder recalled, “You never did tell me how you found me.”

“R-right,” Ocellus agreed, a shakiness entering her voice. “Princess Luna came to me in a dream.”

“Luna did?” Smolder echoed.

“Yeah. She said she was surveying your dream and could tell you were suffering, but you woke up before she could intervene and threw her back into the collective unconscious,” Ocellus elaborated, more tears going down her cheeks and onto Smolder’s grip. “She said you were being bullied and tormented, so I thought you’d head to the Treehouse to clear your head. It’s what any of the rest of us would have done… I’ve been a bad friend.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Smolder huffed. “You just saved my life. I’d be a goner without you.”

“I didn’t know about the nightmares, or how you felt. How you were treated. I didn’t know just how deeply you felt hurt when everything went down at the school. The way they treated us under Cozy Glow and the things said about us behind our backs. I had no idea how hurt you were by it all.”

“…It started before then. There were a couple dragons back home who gave me a hard time over going to a ‘pony school’. First, the dreams were about other dragons, then about not being accepted by the ponies. It started to pile up, but I kept it to myself because…” Smolder swallowed hard. This was the one creature she could have been more open with than any other, even the rest of her friends, yet she had to force the words out. “Because…if I admitted it to myself, it would feel too real. That maybe they’re right. Either I’m a big scary dragon or I’m a pansy not worth her scales.”

Ocellus stopped cold, harsh distress rising up with her voice. “Those aren’t the only options. You’re not weak. You’re not scary. You’re Smolder, and you’re more than perfect as you are. Those sick, vile creatures who’d say those things to you, do those things to you, aren’t worth the time of day, much less you almost getting yourself killed over.” The Changeling craned her head back to the dragon on her back, allowing her to see the freely flowing tears. The descriptors for the tormentors in Smolder’s dreams were venom on Ocellus’s lips, injected with lethal precision.

Smolder’s eyes bulged as she stared at her friend’s crying profile, only for her to then realize her own tears had started to well up and blur her vision. As soon as she noticed them, they spilled over, and she wept, “B-but what if they’re right and I can’t control my greed? What if I become a monster that drives you away?”

Ocellus sniffled and wiped her tears away with a foreleg, and her somber smile looked even gentler in the moonlight that filtered in through the leaves. “You couldn’t become a monster, and the rest of us would be there to snap you out of it.” Facing forward and resuming her pace, she remarked, “And even if it all went wrong, I wouldn’t leave you.”

Smolder could hear it in her friend’s voice, feel it in the shifting of her haunches with every step, see it in the way she carried herself. The love that the Changelings learned to share, the love that made them whole and healthy, Ocellus was sharing it with her. It was warm, like the pools of lava she had relaxed in so often back in the Dragon Lands. It didn’t make the pain in her body go away, but her injuries from the confrontation with the roc and subsequent fall were weirdly bearable. With a quiet sob, Smolder gingerly hugged Ocellus’s neck and said, “Thank you.”

Ocellus remained quiet as she walked closer and closer to Zecora’s hut, allowing Smolder to let out her repressed grief in peace. She slowed her pace so Smolder could cry more privately for as long as she needed. Even though she believed Zecora wouldn’t say anything, she feared for her dragon friend’s propensity to grow self-conscious in her current emotional state.

It wasn’t long before Zecora’s hut was in sight and the Changeling’s stride slowed to a stop. Smolder let out a loud sniffle and assured, “Okay. I-I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Ocellus’s reply came simply, plainly, serving as a poor attempt to veil her concern for the dragoness’s well-being.

“And thank you…your love is…” Smolder began, her face growing hot. “It helps with the pain.”

Ocellus gave a light, wispy laugh and told her, “I’m glad.”

“I owe you my life.”

“So live. Come talk to me instead of going into the Everfree in the dead of night. If I had been a second later…”

“I know…”

Ocellus approached the hut, took a moment to admire the Zebrican mask at the peak of the doorway, and knocked twice with a hoof. When the zebra opened the door, she wore a warm smile that quickly melted into utter shock.

“Ocellus, what a surprise. Is that your dragon with you or a trick of my eyes?” Zecora asked in her rhyming way, standing aside from the door and gesturing for Ocellus to come in.

“You two know each other?” Smolder mumbled, taking her turn to be as shocked as her body would allow. “Like casually?”

“It’s a long story,” Ocellus said, waving the question off. “Zecora, Smolder needs first aid. Wound cleaning, ice, bandages, the works. I’ll take her to the hospital after, but you have everything I need to make the trip easier for her. Can you please help?”

Zecora beckoned her over to a low sitting cot and answered, “Of course I can, as you’ll soon seen, but won’t you explain your predicament to me?” She busied herself with gathering her first aid supplies and pain killing potions.

Ocellus lowered herself and allowed Smolder to get off her back and prop herself onto the cot. The dragon grunted, “Well…I was on my way to the Tree of Harmony—well, the Treehouse of Harmony, and then this roc started chasing me. It bit into my arm and my fire did nothing.”

“Very curious. Rocs are not normally nocturnal, though my regard for the beasts is that they’re infernal,” Zecora pondered, shuddering as the recollection of being snatched up by a roc the day Spike molted floated to the surface of her mind. “Built to hunt dragons, their feathers resist fire. I imagine your breath only invoked its ire.”

“Guess I messed up,” Smolder mumbled.

“Not at all,” Ocellus assured, wrapping her forelegs gently around Smolder.

Zecora came over soaked the corner of a clean rag with a mysterious red-orange liquid, agreeing with Ocellus, “Self-defense is not a crime, and your flames bought you precious time.” She gingerly held up Smolder’s right arm with a hoof and eyed the wound from the roc’s beak. “In order to ensure a clean healing, I ask that you endure a slight sting.”

“Huh—nnngh!” Smolder started an inquiry that was cut short when she inhaled sharply in time with light dabbing of the rag on her wound. She wrapped her tail around Ocellus, who wrapped a foreleg around her in turn and held her still.

“There we go, nice and easy,” Ocellus whispered encouragingly.

“A special remedy born of the earth; I hope you’ll soon see its worth. Antiseptic can damage tissue, which I don’t need to explain is an issue. The bacteria will wash away, but the platelets are here to stay,” Zecora informed as she finished applying the cordial.

“I didn’t get a word of that,” Smolder admitted, her body going lax in Ocellus’s embrace. “How do you know each other, anyways? And when did you get so powerful, Ocellus? You throttled that overgrown bird like it was nothing!”

Ocellus blushed bashfully and looked to Zecora, who only nodded in affirmation and encouragement while gently wiping the dried blood from Smolder’s snout. With that cue, Ocellus said, “Headmare Twilight said I have an affinity for a lot of different kinds of magic, so she and Zecora have been taking turns training me. That blast that looked like a giant magical punch was part of that.”

“Are you a superhero?” Smolder asked, beaming at the Changeling. She barely noticed Zecora wrapping her arm, instead entirely focused on Ocellus. Ocellus, blush burning even brighter, shook her head furiously. Smolder frowned. “You saved my life. You could probably be a hero if you wanted. You’re mine. And that last form you used was incredible. I’ve never seen a creature like that before!”

Ocellus’s voice shrank with her response. “I made that one up myself.”

Smolder’s beaming intensified, while Zecora seemed to not pay their conversation any mind. She finished wrapping Smolder’s one arm and applied ice to the other, earning some heart wrenching wincing from the dragoness. Ocellus gingerly wrapped both forelegs around Smolder now.

“The swelling could be much, much worse. If it helps endure the pain, you may scream and curse,” Zecora said, holding the ice on Smolder’s arm.

Smolder took deep, labored breaths as the frigid sting laid into her unwrapped arm. It was bearable because Ocellus was there holding her, and for that, she was wordlessly grateful. Even if the seconds felt like minutes, time still flowed on like a stream, and Smolder prayed for what might have been the first time ever that Ocellus could detect the love and appreciation she felt underneath the stinging and aching.

Zecora finally pulled the ice away, and Smolder relaxed again. Relief came in like the morning tide. The zebra’s attention turned to Ocellus as she instructed, “I’m afraid that is all I can do, as a trip to the doctor is now due. No matter what, she is not to be jostled, even if you encounter a hostile.”

Ocellus gave a nod and pulled back one of her forelegs to slip it under Smolder’s legs. Keeping a hoof at the dragon’s back, she said, “Hold onto me.”

“Only if you keep it between us,” Smolder replied, though she didn’t even bother waiting for a response before following through. Ocellus buzzed her wings and hovered in the air, holding Smolder securely, establishing a firm-yet-gentle grip.

“Thank you for everything, Zecora,” Ocellus said to the zebra, who simply nodded and opened the door. Ocellus zipped out of the hut at a breakneck speed, Smolder laughing with exhilaration all the while. It was then that it occurred to Smolder that she wasn’t afraid of driving her friends away anymore, and the ache of her body for the confrontation and the crash outweighed the ache that weighed heavily on her heart since the nightmares began. It was comforting, but only without morbidity when context was added. Even if she nearly died and didn’t make it to the Treehouse, she was able to think clearly, calmly, without the pesky voices of the tormentors tearing down every assurance she could think of.

Ocellus’s beeline to the hospital had more than paid off. By the time the crack of dawn broke over the horizon, the dragoness was confined to a bed in the emergency room and excitedly regaling her other friends, the professors and any nurse who happened to pop in about Ocellus’s feat. Occasionally, the dragoness would stop when she’d get distracted by her own claws and the movements they would make when she flexed them. Hospital pain killers truly were in a league of their own. The Changeling, for her part, didn’t say anything, waiting on the results of Smolder’s x-rays. The flesh wound from the roc’s beak was finally stitched up; the hospital had custom ordered needles that could pierce dragon hide once Spike had been living in Ponyville for a good while.

Luna’s words made so much more sense to her now that Smolder was safe and had confided in her. Those ominous words that hit so close to home.

Affirm her, affirm who she really is. I fear that doubts will lead her further down the path of strife, damning her sense of self. She needs the one closest to her. That’s why I came to you.

It was Smolder who had shown her that she wasn’t going to end up like Chrysalis and that a Changeling could change for the better, so it made her happy to be able to return the favor. No, even more than that, it made her happy to be Smolder’s confidant.

“…And then, she turned from a snake into this awesome butterfly demon with wings this big,” Smolder regaled, stretching her wingspan and the span of her bandaged arms for emphasis, “and she grabbed its fat, meaty neck with her legs and flung it like a paper airplane she was mad at.” When discussing Ocellus’s throw, Smolder went to smash her right fist into her left palm, but the telekinetic force of Ocellus’s magic stopped both limbs from connecting for the third time since they arrived in the hospital. Smolder didn’t seem to notice or mind, but Ocellus only wished more fervently for the radiologist to come in and tell them what the damage was before Smolder did something to make it worse.

Sandbar, one of the more grounding presences in the friend group, was the first to step up and say something as the story reached its supposed conclusion again. He said to his dragon friend, “I can’t even imagine what I’d do in your situation, Smolder. I’m glad you’re alive, but are you feeling alright?”

“Totally, Turtle Butt,” Smolder replied, trying to match Sandbar’s cool-as-a-cucumber persona.

Being the first of the professors to speak since their arrival, Rarity cleared her throat, saying, “We’re just glad you’re safe and that Ocellus was able to rescue the…‘lady fair’.” Ocellus’s cheeks burned bright red as the impression was brought up once again. “But if any creature is making you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable, you can come to any of us.”

“Yeah,” Starlight agreed. “I know I won’t be your counselor for much longer, but my door’s always open. Especially for something like this.”

“Us, too,” Silverstream chimed in. “We’re all best friends, right? Heck, your bestest friend only knew you were having issues because a princess with one hoof out the door was playing dream hokey-pokey! Wait, is dream hokey-pokey fun? I wanna play dream hokey-pokey!”

“I mean…in certain contexts, it’s fun?” Twilight tried to answer, looking to her friends for some sort of affirmation. They all just shrugged.

“I mean Scoot got a wingspan half the size of the moon that one time, so…” Rainbow Dash remarked, trailing off, her experience with Luna’s dream magic being something of a whirlwind tour through the minds of Ponyville’s denizens.

“Anyway,” Twilight said, taking a place right at Smolder’s bedside, “we’ll address the situation with the other students in stages. Some cross-cultural lessons to break down stigma, for instance. It’ll take a while, and I’d like your help with that in whatever way you’re comfortable with. And with Cozy Glow gone, I’m sure a lot of her sympathizers got a major wakeup call. And you can talk to us if and when you’re ready if anything or anyone specific comes to mind.”

“Thanks, Headmare Twilight,” Smolder mumbled bashfully, her cool-as-a-cucumber façade melting before the tender gaze of the princess. She glanced over at the pale turquoise Changeling and asked the rest of the gathered creatures, “Could you all give Ocellus and I a minute?”

Ocellus looked up, shocked and maybe a tad incredulous. Yona spoke before she could, however. “Dragon friend want every creature to leave?”

Smolder gave a slow nod. “Please? I gotta thank her properly. You know what I mean?”

“I think I do,” Gallus said slowly, shifting to herd his friends away. “Alright, give the dragon some breathing room. Just a bunch of creatures shuffling through the ER, nothing to see here.”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, she and the other faculty following.

Once the dragon and the changeling were alone, Smolder began to beckon her companion. “C’mon, Ocellus, you’re never this quiet. What’s rolling around in that head of yours?”

Ocellus scooted closer and mumbled, “Just tired…reeling a little. Worried.”

“Relax! They’re not gonna admit me. It’s not like I broke every bone in my body or popped an organ. I’ll be fine. I won’t sound it when these pain killers wear off—c’mere, gimme a squeeze,” Smolder insisted.

“Smolder…” Ocellus groaned, smiling scooting closer regardless.

In a hushed voice, the dragon asked, “You meant what you said back there, right? That you’re not gonna let me turn into some monster?”

Quizzically, Ocellus gawked at Smolder and asked, “Do you think I’m a monster after seeing what I did to that roc?”

“Of course not! You were amazing back there.”

“Then I think you have your answer. I don’t have it in me to give up on you.”

The answer made Smolder’s cheeks and ear fronds burn, and she muttered, “Come a little closer.” Ocellus scooted closer. “Little more.” She scooted again. “Like you mean it.” Ocellus scooted one more time, her face now inches from Smolder’s. The amount of excitement that coursed through her body when the dragoness gave her a kiss on the cheek caused her wings to buzz. Crystal blue met dark teal, and Smolder said, “I know it’s not enough, but thanks for everything.”

“Don’t worry about it being ‘enough’,” Ocellus replied, lightly touching her horn to Smolder’s forehead and closing her eyes.

“Mm,” Smolder grunted in affirmation, closing her eyes as well. “Okay. It was a start, though, right?” She felt Ocellus’s snout touch her own, and everything was serene. No ominous suspense or mounting anxiety. She’d trust in love, trust in her best friends, and finally get some much-needed rest.

About fifteen minutes later, the radiologist pulled the curtain aside to go over the results with Smolder, focused more on the x-rays than the patient. There was a hairline fracture in the arm that had been bitten into by the roc, and another doctor reported muscle contusions in various other parts of her body. He’d expected much worse, considering the size those raptors were and the force they could put into their pecks and grips. “So sorry for the delay, Miss. I—oh!”

He hushed himself, stumbling upon Smolder passed out in her bed, Ocellus half sitting in the chair at her bedside and half sprawled on Smolder’s lap. They slept like stones. The doctor blinked, briefly scanned over the chart, took note of the time the Changeling brought the patient in, and closed the curtain. He decided, at his own discretion, it would have been better to let them rest.

When the radiologist turned around, he found himself face to face with the last pony he’d expected to see: a dark blue alicorn with a nebulous mane clad in pitch black metal regalia. Anypony would have expected her to be fast asleep in Canterlot by daybreak, given the nature of her nightly duties. Instead, here she was in Ponyville General. With a deep bow, the doctor humbly began to ask, “Princess Luna! To what do I owe the—”

Princess Luna gently put a hoof to the doctor’s muzzle and shook her head. Her shimmering cyan eyes wandered to the curtain, and she quietly poked her head in. She smiled warmly at the sleeping forms of Smolder and Ocellus, not needing to look into their dreams to know they were at peace. She had full confidence that Ocellus would make Smolder’s recovery as smooth as possible, and they’d be able to overcome all sorts of challenges together.

Author's Note

There's a lot I could say, but the most important thing I could say is thank you. Thank you for getting this far. This was a ton of fun to write. I know this is much darker than my other Smolder-centric story, which will be getting its own sequel at some point.

Thank you for reading. Please love yourselves, love each other and have as nice a day as you can.