Cleaning the Wound

by daOtterGuy

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Spike, Garble
Length: 9430

Spike grew up without his kind. His first encounter went... badly. Twilight wants to fix that, so she goes to find a mentor. That mentor ends up being Garble. No one is happy about this.

Spike grew up without his kind. His first encounter went... badly. Twilight wants to fix that, so she goes to find a mentor. That mentor ends up being Garble. No one is happy about this.

Content Warning for Trauma, PTSD, and Blood

Edited by EileenSaysHi

Preread by The Sleepless Beholder, Aklinstar, TCC56, and Dewdrops on the Grass

Published 2024-08-07 01:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-11 00:18:18 UTC

Scrub It Off

It wouldn’t come off.

Garble washed his hands underneath the lava. Nails dug into scales as they scrubbed the skin underneath raw. Jolts of pain shot through his body from the rough contact. He ignored it. He’d felt worse.

Removing his hands from the fiery basin, he looked over them. Still red. The blood was gone, but… it was still red. Maybe if he scrubbed even harder—

No. He needed to stop. It was just the colour of his scales. No amount of scrubbing was going to make that go away. The point was that his hands were clean and he wouldn’t need to worry about his food having the metallic taste of blood on it.

Standing up to his full height, he stretched, then winced. Fresh wounds had made their presence known along his hide. There was nothing he could do about them. Standard medicine didn’t work (he’d tried everything). A tradeoff for high natural recovery. He’d just have to bear it.

Like he always did.

“Stupid Spike,” Garble muttered.

The whelp hadn’t inflicted the injuries to him, but he had caused them. Garble had been at the top of the hierarchy and then toppled from his pedestal, leaving the entire system in chaos.

Every dragon with even a spark of ambition was vying for his perceived empty spot. It meant fights and injuries and… blood. Red splattered across himself and the landscape like the world’s worst painter. It made him uncomfortable to be the one holding the brush.

A red pool. A furred face. A draconic face. One horrified, the other proud.

The latest battle had been rough. That Ember or whoever was going to end up a problem. Eventually. With the wound he’d inflicted — he hadn’t meant it to be that bad. He’d just wanted to scare her, not take her out — he wouldn’t have to deal with her for a while since she’d need to take time to recover.

That particular brawl had scared off the weaker-willed challengers, which meant quiet. He could take it easy for a while. Maybe write some more poetry, had out new verses from the safety of his—

“Hello.”

Garble whipped around, claws out and fire gathered in his mouth. He hadn’t noticed their approach. How could he be so stupid? He—

—Swallowed the flame.

“You’re the stupid pony that helped that runt,” Garble said.

“If you mean Spike… yes,” the pony replied. “I also prefer to be addressed as Twilight Sparkle.”

Normally, Garble would just call her Loser Sparkle, but dragons knew three things better than anyone else: gemstones, fire, and magic. The dumb pony in front of him radiated more magic than the most concentrated and pure gemstone out there.

He knew not to piss off a walking bomb.

“What do you want?” Garble clenched his jaw. “...Twilight Sparkle?”

She smiled at that. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Don’t care.” Garble walked away.

“But, you haven’t even—!” Twilight sprinted after him. She huffed and puffed as she did. “Don’t you want to hear about my deal?!”

“I don’t listen to namby-pamby ponies.” Garble waved his hands around to emphasize the point. “You don’t have anything I would want.”

“I have gemstones!” She offered.

And he had a hoard of them. Inherited and collected. “Pass.”

“W-what about magical artifacts!?”

Utterly useless against a dragon’s natural magical resistance… unless it came from her, at which point he was already a smear on the ground.

He snarled.

The pony panicked. “I-I could be your frie—!”

Garble wasn’t really sure what expression was on his face when he looked at the annoying twerp, but whatever it was caused the stupid pony to shut up and shrink away from him. Served her right.

“Not. Interested,” he said.

“You… are very different from what I expected,” Twilight remarked.

Because he didn’t need to showboat around some irrelevant idiot that didn’t belong there.

Aloud, he said, “What’s it to you? I’m not agreeing to your little deal. Scram.”

He roared in her face. That should have scared her off, but it would seem she was more stubborn than that. She stood up straight (barely coming to the bottom of his torso) and fixed him with a determined look. It was impressive… for a pony.

“What can I give you for you to agree to hear my request?” she asked.

Something to make him stop hurting all the time. Medicine that actually healed his wounds. Give him back his first friend. Make him not hate the colour of his skin. A long list of things that no dumb toy horse could possibly give him–

“Nothing,” Garble said.

He walked away again.

“...I just wanted to give Spike a friend like him.”

He whirled around.

“What did you just say?!” Garble shouted.

Twilight took a step back.

“You want—” He laughed. A shot of fire burst from his mouth. “Are you stupid? Why are you even asking?”

“I-I just—” She cleared her throat “—Okay. Since you’re listening. Spike is a dragon.”

Garble rolled his eyes.

“What?” She asked.

“No, duh, idiot,” Garble retorted.

“Aren’t you going to tell he’s a pony and not a dragon like you did before?”

Garble snorted flames from his nostrils, impatient.

“Right, moving on. I’ve raised Spike as my baby brother since I hatched him and… I don’t know much about him. Biologically. Ponies don’t know much about dragons and there are no other dragons in Equestria, so he doesn’t have anyone to ask about himself. Like what it will be like growing up or how to recover from being sick or—” She took a deep breath “—I’m hoping you could be the dragon he can ask.”

“Why would you ask me?” Garble asked. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her intentions. “I hate him.”

“Welllll, about that. You’re kind of a last resort.” Twilight chuckled nervously. “You’re actually the tenth dragon I’ve asked today. The others—”

“Immediately tried to kill you?”

“...Yes. But! You seem… different. Not what I expected, but at this point, I’ll take it… or just give up. So, could you help my brother? Please?”

Garble hated Spike. The stupid whelp was a total loser that ruined his life. Why would he help someone like that? Magic bomb or not, he was going to tell this dumb pony to leave and never come back.

“I’ll do it.”

Twilight looked as surprised as he was.

“You will?!” Twilight squealed, hopping up and down in place. “Oh my Sun, yes! That’s wonderful! Did you have something you wanted in mind then? No, actually, first, should I bring Spike here or—”

“I want to move,” Gabriel interrupted.

“You— what?”

“You come from some stupid pony town, right?”

Twilight nodded.

“Then that’s my condition. I want to move to ponytown or whatever.”

What in Tartarus was he doing?

That was the question going through Garble’s mind as he sorted through da— his hoard for his essentials. Books, gold, artifacts, and gemstones piled high enough to scrape the ceiling.

His home was in the dragonlands… where he always needed to be mindful of his surroundings. His people were there… that wanted him dead or hurt enough so they could take his place. He was going to go help the whelp that had ruined his life… whom he hated.

He grabbed a nearby gold plated plate and smashed it against the wall. He shouldn’t have done that, but he never liked that plate anyways. Power wafted toward him from his hoard, providing fuel for his anger. Enough strength to squash his enemies instead of what he was about to do which was to give up the position he had—

Clutching his head in his claws, he dropped into a crouched position, begging his thoughts to calm. He felt like he was under the waves, lava pulling him into the undertow and drowning him.

Garble had spent so much time building up his reputation and ascending the hierarchy to keep himself safe. A carefully crafted life that keeps ‘friends’ close and him away from red.

Now, he was uprooting his entire life to move to some dumb pony town.

Logically, he should tell that Loser Sparkle to shove it and leave. He had nothing to gain from this arrangement. He should just keep doing what he was doing. Fighting everyone. Always staying ‘on’ when he so desperately just wanted to be off. Seeing red spilled all across—

Packing would be easy. His main hoard, he could just seal using magically charged Tourmaline, making it impenetrable to everything barring the dragon lord. The source of his power would be secured. Well… most of it.

Moving around the hoard, he grabbed a worn pair of saddlebags refitted to be worn across his shoulder. Inside was an assorted pile of junk that made up his keystones. Most dragons used the best of their hoard. The shiniest and most powerful of treasures. Garble… didn’t.

The jade inside meant to preserve the items was still active. If he was smart, he’d leave it all behind. Keep it safe in the tourmaline. But… well, sometimes Garble really was as stupid as the other dragons.

He slung the saddlebags over him. He was going through with this. He was leaving the cave.

His home.

Good riddance.

Twilight Garble Camping Nightmares

Twilight didn’t know much about dragons. Not. At. All. From what she’d seen of them, they were prone to violence, had more muscle than brains, and were very resistant to magic.

The first two facts appeared correct. All of her attempts to speak with dragons were met with sharp teeth and claws. Any rocks Twilight tried to put between them to buy enough time to talk were easily destroyed by their strength. The third was strangely not true, however, as Twilight had little trouble blasting them off into the distance with a well-timed burst of concussive magic.

Due to her prior efforts, Twilight had expected Garble, the most stereotypical example of a dragon she’d ever met, to be exactly like the others.

He wasn’t. That confused her.

He wasn’t greedy. He’d barely batted an eye at her material offerings. He was smart. He could carry a conversation and have discussions about complex topics without any difficulty. He was volatile, but it was more emotional rather than… Twilight didn’t really know a nicer word for stupid. All of these aspects were why she agreed to Garble’s request, because he was different (like Spike). In a good way.

But sometimes he acted exactly like what she expected of a dragon.

“You think I can’t lift a tree?!”

Twilight blinked owlishly.

“You think I’m weak?!” Garble shouted.

“...No?” Twilight answered.

She had just remarked that she should get the firewood for the campfire since she could use her magic to pull branches off the trees. For some reason, this had caused Garble to get worked up into… whatever this was.

“You don’t think I can!” Garble accused. “Watch me!”

Garble stalked toward a nearby tree. He braced himself, dug his claws into the trunk then pulled. Veins popped along his neck and arms as he exerted effort attempting to uproot the tree.

“Garble, I don’t—” Twilight started.

Crack.

Twilight was startled as Garble tore it out with a grunt of exertion. Once freed, he smashed the tree repeatedly into the ground, breaking it into smaller pieces. He gathered the remnants then heaped them into the center of their camp. He blew a spew of flame onto the pile. It turned into a raging bonfire.

“Still think I’m weak?!” Garble shouted.

“...No?” Twilight repeated.

“You gonna thank me?!”

Twilight blinked owlishly.

“...Thank you?” She replied.

“Dweeb!” Garble shouted.

Then he wandered off to the opposite of the clearing and slumped onto the ground.

Using her magic, Twilight pulled out a notepad and a quill from her saddlebags. She wrote one sentence on a blank page:

Dragons are moody.

They’d been traveling together for a few days now. By hoof, since a mention of flying to Ponyville was met with a look that told Twilight never to ask again, and Twilight’s teleportation spell didn’t work on older dragons (something to keep in mind with Spike in the future).

In that time, Twilight had tried to get to know Garble more.

“So…” Twilight started.

Garble glared at her. He was seated on the opposite side of the campfire, leaning his body over the heat. It would be a tossup whether she’d get shouted at or regaled with little more than needless hot air. Both unpleasant, but surely she would eventually break through his defenses.

“...I guess your kind loves, uh, fire?” Twilight continued.

He smirked. “Did you just say ‘your kind’?”

Twilight was a bit thrown by the response. “I-I mean, you know all dragons—”

“All dragons?” Garble stood up, a sneer on his face. It felt overexaggerated, like what Pinkie Pie would use. “You don’t think all dragons are the same, do you?”

“W-well, there haven’t been many studies—”

“Studies? What? Can’t just ask us?”

“We tried!” Twilight exclaimed. “They all just try to kill the researchers!”

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

She could feel her left eye twitch.

“How is it our fault that dragons refuse to give us any information?!”

“Maybe because they don’t want to?” Garble shrugged. “You ever think of just leaving them alone?”

“B-But how would we learn about them?!”

“You don’t.”

Twilight’s brain screeched to a halt. The idea of just not learning was such a foreign concept to her that it broke her own train of thought.

“We can’t just not study everything!” Twilight exclaimed. “Knowledge is so important!”

“Must be, since you asked me of all dragons to help you… though kind of surprised you wouldn’t ask somedrake closer to Spike’s species.”

“...There are different species of dragons?”

Narrowed eyes. Another sneer.

“You didn’t think all dragons were the exact same species did you?” Garble asked.

“...No?” Twilight replied.

Garble snorted. A dismissive sound. “You’re pretty speciest, Twilight.”

She was not! She’d never— Well, there was that time with Zecora. And Earth Ponies did in fact have magic even if it wasn’t formally taught in school. And Pegasi did not in fact eat clouds. And—

To her growing consternation, she realized that the list was only growing. Though unwilling to label herself as speciest, she did resolve to do proper research to fill in the gaps in her own education at a later time.

“W-Well, what species are you and Spike then?” Twilight asked.

“I don’t know.” Garble shrugged. “What do you think we are?”

“...You’re just baiting me now, aren’t you?”

Garble grinned.

Twilight had never wanted to punt another living being more than in that moment.

Having traveled with him for some time now, Twilight could safely say Garble’s mood fluctuated between two states.

There was the macho one. Something akin to a frat stallion persona that she had previously been subjected to during Shining’s days in the military academy. Those overblown displays of stallionhood and boisterous incessant bragging that grated on her nerves.

The other was a snarky one. Becoming more common as the days wore on, which was when Garble displayed that spark of intelligence Twilight had seen when they first met. The verbal barbs and keen intellect that showed he knew a lot more than he usually lets on. A breadth of knowledge that goes much further than what a dragon’s isolationist nature would suggest.

Both of these facets, Twilight had become very familiar with.

This, however, was a new one.

In a rare occurrence, Twilight was awake early, right before dawn. By chance, Garble had rolled over in his sleep to face her.

He looked… haunted. Pinprick pupils in too-wide eyes. Jaw clenched and mouth that trembled slightly, keeping whatever sound that wanted to escape firmly locked away. Claws dug into scales, too hard to be comfortable. Curled up into a ball to be as small as possible.

She’d never seen an expression like that. It felt wrong that she’d seen it. Like she was never meant to observe it. She’d done nothing wrong, but she felt like she’d gotten caught filching books from a library. Twilight knew she shouldn’t say anything. Not then. Not in this weirdly private moment she’d barged into. She should just close her eyes and go back to sleep.

“...What are you feeling right now?” She asked.

“...Nothing but red,” Garble replied.

He rolled over to his other side. Twilight couldn’t help but feel guilty that she asked.

“We’ll be in Ponyville tomorrow,” Twilight stated.

Garble grunted, devouring his eggs (Twilight never asked where he kept finding them).

“So, we’ll have to figure out where you’ll be staying,” Twilight continued.

He looked at her in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, I mean, you need a place to live right?”

“...Yeah?”

“We’ll need to find you a place when we get there.”

A pause.

“Aren’t I just staying with you?” Garble said.

“...What?!”

First Impressions

Garble knew a lot of words.

It was a weird thing about him compared to other dragons, but you had to know a lot of words to properly write poetry. How could he truly say he wrote a verse correctly if he didn’t use the exact word needed to evoke the emotion he wanted? That emotion usually being rage, since he preferred to write slam poetry and that was anything but nice.

Due to this, he had a lot of words on claw to describe Ponyville. Quaint. Rustic. Small. Cozy. Pleasant descriptors for a place very unlike his homeland. Words he would use if he was nice.

But he wasn’t, so he would describe Ponyville as vexatious, flagrant, and horrendous. The fun part of using those kinds of words is that it would take these yokel idiots a moment too long to figure out their meaning, which would make the ensuing offended rage all the more satisfying. Not to mention the offense that a dragon knew bigger words than them.

Seriously, the town was a dump. Small buildings, small ponies, and more colours than anyone — anything — needed. He hated it here and was already nostalgic for his cave back home.

Some had tried to approach him. They were easily dealt with. A bit of showboating, a few wide grins filled with too many teeth, and a snort of flame here and there made them run off.

If he was gonna be here for the long haul (which he expected, because Spike was an idiot), he needed everyone to know that he was on top. How else would he rebuild his circle of trust? He didn’t come all this way just to be stuck with the purple bomb and the runt. These ponies would be even better, because there was no way any of them could possibly stand up to him or turn on him.

Good to show dominance out early. Made things easier when he started picking his friends.

“Do you have to keep doing that?” Twilight asked.

She looked uncomfortable. Good.

“Yeah, I do. What’s it to you, dweeb?” Garble retorted.

“You could be nicer,” Twilight replied.

A pony was glaring at him. He showed them his teeth. They scurried off.

“Look, I do things my way,” Garble said. “I only agreed to help the whelp. Doesn’t mean I have to act like one of you dumb ponies.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. “Right.”

She picked up her pace, Garble keeping stride easily.

They stopped before one of the buildings in the center of town. It was a large tree. He wanted to immediately dislike it on principle, but he caught the scent of must and paper. It was a library, and he was hard pressed to hate something like that.

Squashing any outward tells of excitement, Garble asked, “you live here?”

“Yes. The Golden Oak—”

“Lame,” Garble interrupted.

“Why— nevermind.” She glared at him. “Please try to be nice?”

“No,” Garble said.

“But—”

“You want me to be his friend. I’ll be his friend.” He jabbed his chest with a thumb. “But I do it the dragon way.”

“What's the difference?”

“A lot, but mostly means I don’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows—” He waved his hands “—around him. Now, let’s get settled into this dump.”

Twilight looked ready to argue, but instead knocked on the door.

It opened.

“Twilight! You’re—”

Spike stopped mid-sentence as he looked up at Garble.

Garble smirked. He turned to Twilight, who had an uncomfortably wide smile plastered onto her face.

“Surprise!” she said.

A pause as the implications settled in.

“...Why?!” Spike cried out.

Garble leaned against a bookshelf.

He’d carefully arranged himself to look like he didn’t care, but had pointedly maneuvered his wings and back spines to not damage anything while he did so. Just because he had an image to maintain doesn’t mean he should take it out on the literature.

Twilight and Spike were having a hushed argument on the other side of the room, out of earshot. Or at least they thought so, since he could hear every word very clearly, even as far away as he was.

Both were frustrated, particularly Spike, and Garble considered that a win.

While he waited, his eyes perused the shelves, taking in all the available options. He spied a section of avid interest for him, as he was certain that was where the poetry collection was being kept. One such book spine denoted the pages within to be compiled from the Sappho, which he was ready to commit murder to read.

Their conversation seemingly concluded, the siblings approached him.

“Okay. We talked it out,” Spike said. “You can stay, but there are conditions—”

Garble snorted. “Hah! Funny.”

“What is?”

“I’m not following your dumb rules, dweeb.”

“B-But—!” Spike’s face twisted into anger. “You have to!”

“Says who? You?” Garble smirked. “How are you even going to make me? Have me sign a contract then wave it in my face whenever you don’t like what I’m doing?” A bark of laughter. “I’m a dragon. I don’t care.”

“You—!” He tugged on his sister’s leg. “Twilight!”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, Spike. He has a point. There isn’t really any way to enforce what you want.”

“Then why would I even agree to this?!” Spike demanded. “It’s Garble! What could he possibly offer—”

Garble blew a small bout of flame into the air. The gout morphed into the shape of phoenix, circled around the library then fizzled out.

That got Spike’s attention. He had the look Garble was expecting. That spark of want every dragon had. His senses could feel the Greed in him roil within its (impressively) tight restraints.

“...What was that?” Spike asked, awe in his voice.

“Dragon magic. I’ll teach you. My way.” Garble crossed his arms over his chest. “Take it or leave it.”

Conflicting thought raced through Spike’s eyes. He could see the tug and pull of benefits versus downsides. However, Garble already knew how that argument was going to resolve.

“...Okay, fine,” Spike said.

Garble grinned.

“Are you sure?” Twilight asked.

“He’s a jerk, but I can see that he’s a useful jerk,” Spike replied. “We can keep him around.”

“Like you could have stopped me if you didn’t,” Garble said.

Spike scowled.

“Well, your room will be on the ground floor, just in the back.” Twilight’s horn glowed and arrows appeared along the floor leading toward a door on the farside of the room. “Feel free to—”

Garble tuned out the rest as he walked toward his new dwelling. He’d gotten what he wanted, so nothing else they said mattered. He swiped a few books discreetly from the poetry section on the way, excited despite himself.

To get in, he had to get down on all fours. Not something he enjoyed doing. Inside, the actual space was pretty big and the ceiling was tall enough for him to stand. It was minimal, but that suited him fine since he had no intention of staying inside besides to read.

Dropping his bag to the ground, he took out his keystone chest and shoved it under the bed. His treasures hidden, he curled up onto the bed and started to read the books he swiped.

Red.

Everything was red.

It filled everything around him, in him. He was drowning in it. It clogged his throat. He couldn’t breathe.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

Hands and hooves grabbed at him. Clawed and furred.

‘Why you not protect me, friend Garble?’

‘Why’d you have to freak out like that, Garble?’

‘Why’d you have to be such a pathetic son, Garble?’

Voices joined the chorus, adding their truths to the mix. He hadn’t meant for any of this. He hadn’t meant for things to go so wrong.

They pulled him up. Dragged him to his feet. There was a blue dragon before him. She looked up at him. Two defiant eyes. One sparkled in the weird light of the red. They goaded him. Pushed him. Told him to do it.

Do what dragons do.

Be a dragon.

Do it.

Do It.

DO IT.

DO—

He swiped at her.

Her eye was his now.

Garble woke up.

His heart pounded in his ears as he struggled to breathe. He groped under the bed and dragged out his chest. He clutched it tight to himself.

Wood dug into his scales, little splinters trying to pierce through his tough hide. A deep breath. The musky scent of old items and the earthy scent of jade. He flicked out his tongue. The dry taste of dust. He listened. Faint birdsong signifying the start of dawn. He looked. The room was bare and wooden, just as he’d left it.

He could feel his breathing begin to even out, his heart to settle.

One more squeeze then he put the chest back into its hidey hole.

Sleep wasn’t going to happen, despite how exhausted he felt. He got out of bed and stretched out the kinks in his body. He could read until morning officially came, but he didn’t want to mix something he loved with how low he felt.

That meant only the usual option was left.

Go work out.

Surely there was something around here he could beat into submission.

Working Out the Problems

Garble tore into the Timberwolf’s hide. Green syrupy blood splattered across his scales.

It roared as it lunged to bite into Garble’s neck. He grabbed it by its scruff and slammed it into the ground, burrowing his claws into the wood. It snapped at him as it struggled to get out, but Garble kept a firm grip on the monster.

He bit down on the obsidian he kept in the back of his mouth. Black flames gathered in his throat, spewing smog from the corners of his mouth. He breathed it on the beast, leaving behind nothing but ash.

The timberwolves that had gathered around to observe the fight whimpered and darted deeper into the woods. Wimps. This forest sucked. Everything was too weak to bother with or too strong to handle. He’d thought the Timberwolves might have been good, but they were brought down easily by obsidian charged flames that quickly burned out the magic that animated them, leaving them as just very flammable wood.

Taking a bite out of the cockatrice he’d hunted earlier (Even easier. Just don’t make eye contact like a moron), he’d reflected on the so-called “most dangerous forest in Equestria”.

He found a castle. Lame. Already been looted and any of the magical items were either useless to him or he already had. There was a zebra living there whom he hoped he never met face-to-face since Zebra potions were dragons’ bane. There were a few dragons that lived in the area, but… they’d left the dragonlands. There were only a few reasons why that happened and any one of them meant he should stay clear of them.

All of this was to say that he was bored. Nothing in this forest could get his blood pumping and help kick off the remnants of his nightmares. Worse, he was pretty sure that they had only become more prevalent in his thoughts, which meant he’d accomplished the exact opposite of what he’d wanted.

Disgruntled and frustrated, he started to head back to town.

Garble was confused.

The front yard of this one pony’s house was filled with strange metal equipment. Garble couldn’t figure out the purpose of any of it, but it looked cool, and that made Garble want to know more about it.

“You interested in lifting?!”

Though thrown off by the enthusiasm, Garble took in the brute of a pegasus that approached him. He was easily twice the size of any pony he’d met so far, but with the smallest wings he’d ever seen.

“No,” Garble said. “...What’s lifting?”

If he was put off by the immediate denial, the newcomer didn’t show it.

“You pick up and drop weights in different ways to get stronger and build muscle!” the pony excitedly explained.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah!”

“Sounds lame,” Garble retorted. “Fighting’s better.”

The pony circled around him, inspecting him with narrowed eyes. It made Garble uncomfortable.

“Back off, twerp.” Garble snarled.

“You could use some work on your deltoids,” the pony declared.

“My what?!”

“Come on! I can show you.”

The pony entered the front yard, opening the door invitingly for him. Whether it was from utter bewilderment or just exhaustion from that morning, Garble went into the yard.

Garble pushed. He had two iron rods with heavy balls on the ends (dumbbells, the pony called them) in his hands as he sat in a backless chair. He was desperately trying to get them above his head with his feet burrowing into the ground with how hard he was braced.

“YOU GOT THIS!” the pony shouted at him. “PUSH!”

With a roar, Garble exerted the last of his strength to push the dumbbells up before dropping them onto the ground to either side of himself. Even though he was exhausted, he still pumped up his arms in victory.

“WOO!” Garble shouted.

“YEAH!” the pony added.

A towel was offered. Garble waved it away. Dragons didn’t sweat.

“How do you feel?” the pony asked.

Tired. Content. Finally free of the funk he was in since that morning. Not that he was going to tell him that.

“Too easy,” Garble said. He crossed his arms over his chest. A difficult task with how worn out he was. “Was totally dumb.”

“You should do it more though! You got the perfect build for it!” The pony said, excitement in their voice. “Would be a waste not to!”

Perfect, huh? Him being the best at this lifting thing did have some appeal.

“...Maybe,” Garble relented. “Are you here most early mornings?”

“Yeah!”

“Then I might drop by sometimes… but fighting is still better!”

“Sure! But lifting will give you more strength for that.”

Garble grunted. “What’s your name?”

“Bulk Biceps.”

“Ugh, why do pony names sound so dumb? Whatever, I’ll see you around, dweeb.”

Garble stood up.

“What’s yours?” Bulk asked.

“Garble,” Garble replied. “Way cooler.”

Bulk tilted his head to one side. “Isn’t that word used to describe a message that’s total nonsense?”

“No!” He whirled on him, teeth clenched with a glare firmly on his face. “It's— Whatever! Pony names are dumber!”

He stomped off.

“See you again!” Bulk called after him.

Garble really didn’t like small doors. Ducking into them or worse crawling in on all fours like a pony just felt demeaning. Sure, the library was definitely bigger than most places, but all the doors were universally too short.

His two annoying housemates were seated at the big table in the main foyer of the library, having breakfast.

“Where were you this early in the morning?” Twilight asked as she sipped some beverage out of a mug.

“None of your business, nerd,” Garble retorted.

Twilight shrugged and took another sip.

“So, what great things are we learning about today?” Spike grumped as he munched on his gem toast. “Bullying for dummies?”

“You wish,” Garble said. “You couldn’t take on a hunk of pumice even if I softened it up for you.”

“...Pumice?” Spike scrunched up his face. “What’s that?”

“Seriously? You don’t even know what pumice is? You can’t be that much of a dunce.”

Spike crossed his arms and puffed out his cheeks. Like a toddler. The brat was such a pain.

“It’s not my fault ponies don’t know much about dragons,” Spike grumbled.

“I mean, duh. Ponies are dumb. They don’t even know the difference between a Wyrm and an Amphiptere. Though, you’re a hybrid I guess sooo…”

He noticed the blank looks he was getting.

“What’s with your faces?” Garble said.

“What’s a Wyrm and an Amphiptere?” Spike asked.

“...You?” Garble answered. More blank stares. “Wait, you seriously don’t even— No. Absolutely not. Get up, loser.”

Garble picked up Spike’s chair and dumped him out of it.

“Hey! What’s—” Spike protested.

“We’re going out,” Garble interrupted.

“Why?!”

“Because you’re an idiot, that's why. We’re learning basic biology.”

The Wyrms and the Amphipteres

“Alright listen up, dweeb. I’m only going over this once,” Garble started.

They were in an open field just outside of Ponyville. Spike and Twilight sat in front of him, the prior apprehensive and the latter eager.

“First off, I’m a Wyrm,” Garble continued.

“Which means?” Spike asked.

“I have four limbs, wings, and stand upright.” Garble gestured at his upright position. “I can use Breath, plus we’re known to be the most aggressive of the species.”

“What’s breath?” Twilight asked.

“It’s Breath. Use the capital B as it deserves, idiot.”

“How can you even tell I didn’t use the capital letter?”

“It’s in the tone!” Garble retorted. “It deserves the respect of a capital letter! Whatever, moving on.”

“But what is—”

“Wyverns,” Garble interrupted.

Twilight scowled.

“No arms, massive wings, and they’re basically storm junkies,” Garble continued. “You won’t see many since they chase lightning off of coastal regions like adrenaline-fueled addicts.

“Knuckers have long claws, no wings, and kind of look like moles with horns. They live way way underground and don’t like top surface… ever. All they do it dig, and they really like doing that.”

“Okay, so that’s three of them. That leaves… Amphipteres?” Spike said.

“Got one right at least, runt. Yeah, them. Descended from Lungs, and those are extinct. No limbs, decent-sized wings, and are the most magically powerful of all the species.”

“Then how am I one?” Spike waved his hands at Garble. “I have limbs.”

“Do you even listen? You’re a hybrid. Two different dragons in one. In your case, Wyrm and Amphiptere, so you get the best and worst of both of them. Weird that it happened, but some Wyrm probably inflamed your egg when the Amphipteres weren’t looking, which means your Greed is focused around both size and magic.”

“My Greed?” Spike tensed. “Wait, the size thing is—”

“A natural thing… for Wyrms,” Garble finished. “When Wyrms cave into their desires they get increased size and strength, but also really really dumb. You’re a hybrid though, so you won’t experience the worst part of a Wyrm’s Greed.”

“And what’s that?” Twilight asked.

“None of your business.” Garble crossed his arms over his chest.

“Wha— You can't just not tell us!” Twilight exclaimed.

“First off, there is no us—” Garble wagged a finger between himself and Twilight “—just Spike and I. You’re optional. Second off, Spike literally can’t do it, only full-blood Wyrms can. There’s no point in telling him.”

“But what if I have to deal with a Wyrm?” Spike asked.

“Are you going back to the Dragonlands?” Garble asked.

“No?” Spike replied.

“Are you planning on fighting any Wyrms?”

“No!”

“Then you don’t need to know. I don’t want to tell you and I sure as Tartarus ain’t showing you. You shouldn’t encounter other dragons since they don’t venture outside of the dragonlands unless…” Garble looked askance. “Well, unless.”

“We’ve seen a dragon around Ponyville, though. He—”

“Has his own reasons.” Garble clapped his hands together. “Okay, that’s all for today.”

“But we barely went over anything!” Spike exclaimed.

“And you've barely answered any of our questions!” Twilight added.

“Yeah! Like I wanna know about the other thing Wyrms—”

“No,” Garble interrupted.

“But—!”

“No!” Garble roared. “I’m calling the shots here and I say we’re done for the day. Be here tomorrow at noon and we’ll go over more. You’re dismissed.”

“But—” Twilight and Spike both started to say.

Garble glared.

“Right, tomorrow then!” Twilight said.

“I was getting tired anyways,” Spike added.

“Uh huh,” Garble said. “I’m going out for a while. I’ll see you back at the tree later. Got… stuff to do.”

Before they could respond, Garble launched himself into the air with his wings and flew off.

Garble was flying. Wind whipped by as he flew… somewhere. He didn’t really have any particular destination in mind, but ‘anywhere’ sounded good.

He felt uncomfortable. And annoyed. He couldn’t really place the why or the what that had caused it, which was what accounted for the second half of his feelings. He just needed to get away and flying off into the sky seemed like a good idea as any, if only because running was slower.

His thoughts were all over the place, a swirl of emotions, which was stupid because dragons didn’t get caught up in their emotions. They just punched something until the emotions weren’t a problem anymore then moved on with their lives since dwelling on them was dumb.

Also, what was the big deal with not showing them? He was being so weird about it. It wouldn’t be hard to just do a demonstration. Would even feel great since they’d know not to mess with him. He was being so unreasonable… or at least more than usual.

Garble could even do it right now.

Just think of the things he wanted, grow three times his size and then show off what made Wyrms scary when they got into their Greed. It wasn’t hard, wanting things was easy if you let it happen, he just kept a tight leash on it since he didn’t need to go rampaging around with no cause.

He just had to do it. Just do it. Do it.

Bile was rapidly climbing his throat. He dropped to the ground, found the nearest bush then vomited his guts into it. It hissed and burned, a mixture of stomach acid and flame.

This didn’t make sense. This was a basic biological function for all dragons. Whatever, he’d just refocus, think about his desires and—

He lurched forward for another round with the bush.

This was stupid. Why was he puking into a bush? This was dumb. He was dumb. This was basic stuff. Whelps learned this within the first few years of their life and he couldn’t do it.

As he breathed raggedly, throat raw from the bile, all he could think about was how pathetic he was.

Dad’s Lesson: Wyrm Greed

Garble was a preteen.

“Want,” his dad hissed.

“I’m trying,” Garble desperately replied.

He was pinned to the rocky floor of the cavern by his dad’s massive claw. Breathing was difficult as he scraped futilely against the ground, trying to find traction to leverage himself out of the situation.

“Not enough! You have to want it! You have to need it!” his dad continued.

“I know!”

“If you know, then do it!”

Once more, Garble tried to ‘want’. To call on his inherent Greed that every dragon had to grow in size and escape from this situation. He scrambled for any desire he had that could fuel him.

Get permission to leave the cave? He didn’t really want to do that, he just felt that he had to. Make friends? Slam Poet still made that word bitter in his mouth even if it had been a long time ago. Be stronger? Being strong was something he wanted, but his only model of strength was his dad and… he didn’t want to be his dad. Get his dad off of him?

That was the worst one to grasp for, since most of him just wanted to give up and let his dad— he didn’t want to finish that thought.

“I-I can’t do it!” Garble cried out.

Tears formed in his eyes. He hiccupped. He couldn’t have felt more pathetic if he tried.

His dad released him with a grunt of frustration and moved out of his vision. Garble sat back up, wiping the weakness out of his eyes as he wrestled with the intense feelings of shame he felt. Dad paced back and forth, shaking the cave with each heavy stomp.

“Sorry…” Gabrle muttered.

A harsh glare, shadowed yellow eyes looking at Garble with nothing but reproach.

Garble flinched.

“Never mind my permission to leave the cave anymore, you can’t keep being this pathetic,” he muttered.

Guilt tore at him inside. It was all his fault.

His dad stared into the middle distance for a while, weighing a decision in his mind. A decision was made.

“...Fine,” his dad said. “We just need to make it more real.”

“Make it—?”

Pain. Claws sliced through scales. He screamed as blood splattered the cave floors. He scrambled away, but was caught. The world rang out as his head was smashed against the cave wall.

“Fight back!” His dad roared at him. “Want it!”

Release. A moment of reprieve. Then he was flying through the air, his breath knocked out of him by a tail.

He coughed. A pool of red on rock. He was shaking.

“You’ll die if you can’t! I mean it!”

He hit the floor again. His own blood got in his eyes. He was seeing red. Red everywhere. There was more roaring, but Garble couldn’t hear it. There was red and blood and it was everything.

Garble couldn’t take it. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.

No more blood. No more red. No more. No More. No More. No—

It came to him then. Strength coursed through his body as he felt his body crack to accommodate the flood of growth that went through him. It hurt. He screamed, it came out as a roar. Was it supposed to hurt this much? Wasn’t magic supposed to make it not? He couldn't stop it. He just grew and grew and—

Everything was burning. The red was burning up, disappearing. Like he wanted. His blood was on fire, both in and out. Heat filled him as his body turned into that of a feral beast.

Flames erupted along his back and wings and scales and everything.

It hurt. It was red. It needed to go away. All of it. It wouldn’t leave on its own. So he’d make it.

Heat exploded from him. It melted rock into glass. He wasn't even aware or in control of his body anymore. He wasn’t cog— cogni— what was even the word? Aware. He wasn’t aware anymore. Like someone else was making the decisions necessary to ensure they got what they wanted. Needed.

Something attacked him, them. They breathed gouts of flame at the attacker. It was making them hurt. That could lead to red. They needed to get rid of both.

It wasn’t enough as the next thing Garble knew, he was on the ground. Air wasn’t coming in. His vision became blurry. Strength left him as unconsciousness came.

Then suddenly he could breathe.

A huge gasp of air.

“Better than I could have even hoped for.”

His dad was overtop of him. He had one of those rare proud smiles on his face. He didn’t like it. Too many teeth.

“You’re just like me. Strong as a volcano.” He said that as if it wasn’t the worst thing Garble had ever heard. “Nothing will be able to hurt you.”

Then he left.

Garble curled in on himself, desperately trying to disappear, or at least be as small as he could be. His dad’s words echoed over and over again in his head.

He was just like his dad.

He was just like his dad.

He was—

Stitches

It was a terrible morning in Ponyville.

Garble had woken up just before dawn. Again. He had scrounged up breakfast in the Everfree (easy, since nothing could put up a good fight), looked for an opponent worth fighting (there was none), then started a workout with Bulk (which was still lame).

“So, you like lifting, right?” Bulk asked.

“No, it’s dumb,” Garble said.

He lifted up the barbell with a roar, then slammed it back into the holder. He could feel the exhaustion in his body, but, just like last time, the residuals of his nightmares were fading, which made all the effort worth it.

“All you do is lift a bunch of heavy stuff over and over again,” Garble continued. “It’s nothing compared to getting into an actual fight.”

“So why don’t you fight someone in Ponyville?” Bulk asked.

Garble snorted. “Sparkle bomb will kill me if I do that.”

“...Sparkle bomb?”

“Ugh, Twilight or whatever her dumb name is.”

“Right.” Bulk nodded sharply once. “But what if someone wants to get into a fight with you?”

“You offering?”

“Just asking.”

“Then still no, since then I’ll end with one dead pony and a pissed off Twilight regardless.”

“You’re pretty confident.”

“Because I know I can take anyone on in this loser town.” Except Twilight or the zebra in the Everfree, but Garble wasn’t going to admit that aloud. “Anyways, gotta go. Whelp is due for a lesson.”

“Alright, see ya.”

Garble flew off.

“Where’s the runt?”

Twilight didn’t look up from her book. “He’s with Rarity.”

“Who?” Garble asked.

“One of my best friends.”

“...Who?”

“She’s a seamstress and lives at the carousel boutique up town. It’s shaped like its namesake.” Twilight put her book down. “Why?”

“We got a lesson now.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were serious about what you said yesterday.”

Garble scowled.

“Don’t give me that. You ended the lesson early since you were apparently sick of dealing with us. We figured you wouldn’t want to see either of us for a while.”

She wasn’t wrong, but that would require admitting that she was right about something and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“I’m a dragon. I mean what I say, unlike ponies,” Garble retorted.

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. “Bold words from the dragon that got worked over basic biology.”

“Whatever. I’m getting the runt.”

“Can’t you—”

Slam. Garble already left.

True to Twilight’s word, there was a building shaped like a carousel on the other end of town. It looked tacky and gross. He barged inside.

The interior gave him pause.

It was filled to the brim with fabric, gemstones, and ponyquinns laden with fancy clothes. One such piece that drew his eye was a dress composed of nothing but frills. It had sapphires sewn into the fabric that sparkled in the lights of the boutique.

A normal dragon would question why some pony would be wasting perfectly good sapphires on some frilly stupid dress, then proceed to tear them off and eat them. Which is what he should do since he was a dragon.

But he always loved sapphires for how pretty they were, and the dumb fabric made them… prettier.

“You must be Garble.”

He jerked his head toward the voice. A white pony looked at him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The tone was pleasant, but he could read between the lines and know that he wasn’t welcome there.

Garble didn’t care.

“Where’s the whelp?” Garble asked.

“Whelp?” Her face scrunched up in thought then opened in realization. “Oh! Do you mean Spike? He’s gone to fetch more sapphires from the basement for me.”

“He’s supposed to be at the field.”

“For?”

“Learning how to be a dragon, since he’s bad at it.”

A momentary twitch in the perfect facade. That had clearly struck a nerve. Wouldn’t endear him to her, but Garble wasn’t looking to make friends with any of the bomb’s inner circle.

“Well, he doesn’t need to do lessons every day, does he?” Rarity asked.

“He does, if he wants to not be a loser.”

She snorted. “Now, listen here—”

A door in the back burst open.

“Rarity! I—” Spike called out.

He was carrying way too many bolts of fabric. It was stacked higher than he was tall and teetered precariously in his arms. His expression looked surprised to see him here.

“You’re late,” Garble said.

“Late for what?” Spike asked.

“Today’s lesson.”

“You were serious about that?!”

“Obviously!” Garble growled. “What? Are you as stupid as you are lame?”

“I’m not—!”

Rarity slammed a hoof into the floor. It drew both of their attention to her. She flashed Garble the most fake smile he had ever seen.

“Now, Garble. Since today is Sunday and a day of rest for most in Equestria, why not let Spike have the day off and continue with your lessons tomorrow, hm?” Rarity proposed.

“As smart as you are beautiful, my lady,” Spike agreed.

Spike had a dumbstruck look on his face directed at Rarity. He was practically falling over himself both literally and metaphorically. He could immediately tell that the drake had it bad for her. Garble could not even begin to describe how wrong that was.

“You’re pathetic,” Garble said.

“Garble!” Rarity snapped with indignation.

“He is!” Garble protested. “If he doesn’t learn, then he’s just going to stay that way. It’s my literal job to make sure he doesn’t.”

Rarity glared at him. Any semblance of niceness gone. Her eyes were narrowed into slits and she looked raring for a fight. It was a breath of fresh flame to Garble who was getting sick of the pony’s fakeness.

“I’m right and it’s stupid that you don’t even know how right I am,” Garble continued.

“...Fine, I won’t argue, mostly because I don’t think you’re capable of a civil discussion.” She upturned her nose at him, as if a pony could be better than a dragon. “What if I bribed you to let him go for the day?”

Garble snorted. “What do you even have that I would want?”

“Twilight told me you aren’t interested in gemstones, however, how about a gemstone mine?”

“Earth ponies don’t have any gem farms this far North,” Garble said.

“What? What in the world is— No, I’m not talking about an… earth pony gem mine.” She had a hint of confusion in her tone as she said it. “There are some Diamond Dogs set up in the foothills. They have—”

Garble tuned her out. She had nothing else of worth to listen to. He’d already heard something that interested him: a Diamond Dog colony. They were notoriously tough, but hard to find. If there was a group of them nearby that would make them great candidates for friends… so long as he beat them into submission first.

“Yeah, sure,” Garble interrupted.

Rarity stopped mid sentence. “Really? Wonderful!” She waved a hoof toward the door. “Then off you go! I have dresses to make.”

She grabbed several bolts of fabric from Spike in her magic and trotted toward one of the bare ponyquinns. Spike, the lovestruck idiot, waddled after her. Normally, he would get mad at the dismissive attitude, but he’d already gotten what he wanted and had no reason to stay in this lame shop any more.

The whelp could have his date (even if he was the only one that thought it was) while Garble dealt with something more important.

Making friends.

Digging For Trouble

The outskirts of Ponyville was one of the most confusing places Garble had ever seen.

In one direction were wide open fields of tall grass. In another was the ‘wild’ Everfree Forest. Then there was the ‘tamed’ White Tail Woods. Finally, there were the foothills, an area Garble felt most comfortable in due to its similarities with the Dragonlands.

That was where most of his confusion stemmed from, because he wasn’t in the Dragonlands. Why would Equestria have something similar to his home sitting outside of Ponyville?

He could tell at a glance that the place would be rife with underground veins of gemstones. Any dragon worth their scales could figure that out. It was so utterly out of place with the general biome around Ponyville that Garble half expected to hear that the ponies made this place the way it was and buried their own precious materials in it.

By extension, he could also tell that there were Diamond Dogs around. Telltale claw marks in recently disturbed dirt and the scent of Diamond Dogs marking to scare off anyone dumb enough to cross into their territory.

Well, Garble wasn’t dumb, but he was definitely crossing into their territory.

Garble stomped about leaving heavy footprints in the dirt. He’d been doing it for a while now, and was starting to get annoyed that no Diamond Dogs had appeared. Impatient, Garble stomped over to one of the buried holes, dug it out until the tunnel was revealed, then blew a burst of flame into it.

“Yipe!”

A Diamond Dog jolted out of another hole clutching the singed part of his behind. He was yipping as he scraped his bottom onto the dirt to put out the fire.

“Whew.” The Diamond Dog wiped his brow with a paw. “That a clo— yipe!”

Garble grabbed the Diamond dog by the scruff of their neck and brought them up to his eye level.

“Take me to your colony. Now,” Garble demanded.

The Diamond Dog nodded his head rapidly.

The ‘colony’ was a hovel. Garble was used to the elaborate cave systems of the Diamond Dogs out near the Dragonlands. This group was pitiful by comparison. Just a few burrows loosely connected to each other by rough tunnels. The gem stockpile was pitiful, barely enough to scrape by.

Garble was unimpressed, to say the least, which was made worse by the Diamond Dogs themselves. They were a mangy group. Underfed and desperately needing some kind of windfall. This situation was only made worse by the fact Garble was certain there was a gem vein literally right in the wall next to him. What kind of Diamond Dog couldn’t find a gem vein?

All of the Diamond Dogs (and he couldn’t believe the entire colony consisted of only twelve Dogs) were gathered before him with looks of false bravado. Puffed up chests and gritted teeth that were about as threatening as a fly. Annoying and not worth the effort to torch.

But that meant it would be easier to make them his friends.

One of the Diamond Dogs, taller with a red vest and pointed ears, approached him while the others hung back.

“What does dragon want?!” he demanded.

Garble stepped forward, towering over the Dog. He gave him some credit. While the others shirked away, Red Vest stood his ground.

“I need some buddies,” Garble said.

“You—” Red Vest shook his head. He jabbed a finger into Garble’s chest. “Why should we friend dragon?”

“Cuz this dragon is better than all of you combined.” He jerked a thumb toward the wall he’d sensed the gemstones in. “You missed a vein over there.”

Red Vest snarled. “We no miss anything!”

Garble rolled his eyes. He pulled back a fist. The Dog flinched. Garble smirked then punched the nearby wall. It collapsed. Shattered rock fell to the cave floor. Behind it was a massive wall of topaz and quartz.

Feeling smug, Gabriel said, “there. Now you— what are you doing?”

Red Vest had bowed to him. A right angle with his hips as the hinge.

He barked back at the other Dogs, “bow to new boss!”

The others followed suit.

“Dragon new boss now!” Red Vest said.

This was an unexpected turn to the situation, but not an unwelcome one. They usually put up more of a fight, but Garble had acquired new friends. He’d have to rub it in the purple bomb’s face later.

“Yeah!” Garble crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m the new boss. Let’s hear it for me!”

Red Vest stood up straight, put an arm and shouted, “new boss! New boss! New boss!”

The others soon followed suit, chanting his new title in a chorus.