Shadow of the Dragon Lords
D. G. D. Davidson
My Little Pony is © 2012 by Hasbro, Inc.
Chapter 9: Spike's War
Back when he lived in Canterlot, Spike had two major tasks. First, he was the personal assistant of Twilight Sparkle. Second, he had a duty that earned him the derisive nickname of "harem guard" from the school's few male students and the nickname "Casanova" from the longsuffering Twilight.
Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns was old, like the princess herself, and therefore retained certain eccentric vestiges of its early days. Among them was the Box Stall, a large, elaborate facility built at a time when male and female students were strictly segregated. The Box Stall, in keeping with tradition, still admitted only females. Exactly one male, the house steward, could go inside.
Formerly, the house steward was, like many important officials in Canterlot, a gelding, but Celestia had outlawed the castration of colts several hundred years before, though memories of the practice remained. The majordomo of the palace, for example, held the title of chief gelding, though he was not gelded, and the steward of the Box Stall was still male, but to prevent any shenanigans, a pony no longer filled his office. With the banning of gelding, the position of steward fell to Canterlot's draconic hostage.
The day before Twilight took him unexpectedly from the capitol, Spike pushed through the revolving door of the Box Stall in the early afternoon, as usual, to begin his chores. Although being steward meant having almost no free time, Spike enjoyed the job immensely.
"Ah," he whispered to himself as he entered, "Unicorn fillies."
The interior of the Box Stall was a single large room sweltering under an enormous skylight. Taking up most of the house was a large pool in which several Unicorns were swimming. A few lounged in a nearby hot tub. Overhead, on a suspended trotting track, some of the girls strutted briskly for their afternoon workouts. Others used the House's exercise equipment. Some lay on plush velvet couches and read or napped.
When Spike walked in, a bespectacled, cream-colored filly named Whistle Down looked up from her book and rattled an empty plastic cup at him. "Hey, house boy," she said, "go get me another hay and carrot smoothie."
"Right away," Spike answered, taking her cup and jogging to the concession stand.
After he brought Whistle Down her drink, Spicy Sauce whistled for him from the weight-lifting area where she was performing tail curls. "Hey, house boy!" she yelled. "Come spot me!"
Spike joined her and counted out her reps. When she finished, he complimented her on her form.
"Don't get cheeky," she answered, giving his head a rough but affectionate pat.
"House boy!" Rosy Dawn called from the other side of the pool. "Yoo-hoo, house boy!"
Spike ran over to find the dusky pink pony lying languidly beside the pool, one hoof dangling in the water.
"Fan me," she said.
He pulled an ostrich feather from a nearby rack and proceeded to do as she asked.
He stopped, however, when another voice sailed across the room. "Spike! Spike, where are you?"
Spike tossed the feather aside and sprinted toward the pony calling him.
"Hey!" Rosy Dawn yelled. "That was too quick! And don't run by the pool!"
Spike's heart thumped painfully in his chest as he approached. It was his beloved Moondancer, languishing on a beach towel under a UV heat lamp, which made her white coat unbearably bright. She lay on her side with one hind leg thrown casually forward. The moon-and-star cutie mark glistened on her hip.
Nervously rubbing his claws together, Spike struggled to avoid hyperventilating as he asked, "W-what can I do for you, M-Moondancer, my sweet?"
She slid her dark sunglasses down her muzzle and gazed at him with shiny violet eyes as she held out a bottle. "I need you to rub cocoa butter into my coat."
Spike gulped.
As the sun lowered, Spike knelt in the middle of the library, held his pet baby phoenix Peewee in his arms, and wept.
That morning, Severin had sat across from him and said many strange and confusing things while Luna silently paced the room, her sharp eyes watching everything. Every word of Severin's was like a weight dropping onto Spike's heart, and the words piled up until he thought Severin would crush him. Luna at last spared him by inviting Severin to take a ride, leaving Spike alone to brood.
Spike didn't want to brood. He wanted to forget everything the ambassador had told him about the hellish homeland of the Earth Dragons, about the human slaves who crouched and quivered in their own filth and scraped before their reptilian masters, about the gaunt, pale virgins whom the dragons collected in the same way they collected gold and jewels, and about the cold and unemotional minds of the corpulent dragon lords who sat at the high stone table on a crag of the live volcano around which the cavernous buildings of Draconium's black capitol clustered.
Spike wanted to forget that his father was Lord Foulsbereth, who sat in the chief seat at the table, a seat to which Spike was heir. Severin told him repeatedly that it was his destiny to hoard things that did not belong to him and grow huge until he became the enemy of the ponies, and then they would ship him in a cage to his homeland, where his mind would return. He would become as compassionless as his father, and would grow massive and grotesque over several centuries as he lay atop a heap of gold, devoured jewels, and collected the virgins who would groom him and attend to his every whim.
Less than a year ago, he had begun to grow just as Severin described, and Canterlot had sent the Wonderbolts to capture him and send him home. They failed.
Even though, as he grew larger and larger, he stole everything he could put his greedy claws on, he really wanted only one thing, and because he had gained so much in size, he could finally have her: Rarity.
He had felt so powerful as he climbed over the hard, sharp rocks and saw all of Ponyville spread below him. He could still remember how soft and warm Rarity's coat had felt as he wrapped her in his tail. At last, she would be his forever, and he would share her with nopony. He would force her to find him jewels to eat, to groom his scales, and, of course, to lounge in his cave in decorative poses- for dragons, heartless and selfish though they were, had a keen if peculiar aesthetic sense.
But Severin was clearly wrong about one thing: it was possible for Spike to resist the hoarding impulse. He had done so; in the end, Rarity had touched his heart and reminded him of who he was. His love for her had overcome his covetous desire for her. He had been willing to let her go.
But that meant he was a baby, and would be forever.
As Severin talked, Spike remembered, too, the time he had attempted to join the great dragon migration. Those dragons had been wild, unruly, and harsh, different from the wingless Earth Dragons who ruled in Draconium. Spike had for a time considered remaining with those wild dragons, but in the end he went back to Ponyville. He didn't go home because he wanted to serve any political needs, about which he was, at that time, unaware. He went home because he wanted to be a pony.
"Severin," he said, interrupting the ambassador's lengthy spiel on the finer points of Draconic culture.
"Master," Severin answered, "I must ask you again not to address me by my-"
"Severin, I'm not really a dragon."
"Don't be foolish. Of course you are."
"What I am is not the same as who I am."
"That's gibberish, obviously. Who you are is dependent on what you are, and you are a dragon. You can't make yourself a tree or a bird- or a pony- simply by wanting it. Free will does not imply omnipotence, and wishing does not make it so." He turned to Luna, who was still pacing the room and watching. "Your Highness, I know you've studied philosophy. Can you explain this?"
The princess shook her head. "We are embarrassed to admit that, upon returning to our kingdom from our long exile, we discovered that modern ponies receive no education in metaphysics, Severin. Thou canst not appeal to Spike's knowledge of the problem of universals, nor of the four causes, nor of teleology, for I fear he hath none."
"Ah. Would you be so kind as to see to that gap in his knowledge after I leave?"
"We shall."
"What I mean," Spike said, "is that I may really be an Earth Dragon, but I don't want to be greedy, I don't want to steal stuff, and I don't want to have slaves."
"Don't worry," Severin said, "you will. I already told you that."
"And I'm telling you I won't!" Spike jumped to his feet and glared at Severin, who merely interlaced his fingers and gazed back with a smug smile on his face.
In the dark, Spike let go of Peewee, pressed his forehead against the floor, and clenched his claws into fists. He wanted to grow up, but he didn't want to grow up that way. Yet he knew that neither Rarity nor Moondancer could ever really love him if he spent the rest of his life in infancy.
At the same time, he could feel the desire to have, to take, the same desire he had felt after his first birthday in Ponyville, sitting like a dagger in his heart, threatening to overwhelm him, to destroy him. If he simply gave in to it and let himself become a monster again, neither Rarity nor Moondancer could say no to him. He could simply take them and have them both forever. To remain a baby forever meant giving up everything he wanted. It was a constant battle within him, a battle that, as time went on, he was less inclined to continue fighting.
After Luna and Severin left, Spike wandered out of the library and walked around town in a daze. The air was dry and cool, and an occasional sharp breeze reminded him that the Running of the Leaves would take place in a few days.
He met Rarity, who was out shopping. So absorbed was she in the rolls of fabric she had purchased at the open-air market, she didn't notice Spike's low mood, but did order him to carry her bags for her. Ordinarily, he jumped at the opportunity to do Rarity any favors, but his heart wasn't in it today.
"Oh, I wish you'd told me you were somepony so important, my little Spikey-wikey," Rarity chattered as she window-shopped on the way back to her boutique. "And the ambassador came much too suddenly. I should have made a new dress for the occasion. Ooh! And a cute little suit for you, of course. But goodness, having him just arrive like that! Why, I hadn't even shaved my fetlocks, I had simply nothing to wear, and, goodness, I haven't had my teeth floated in ages. I must have looked an absolute fright. That's no way to impress a prestigious politician, you know."
"Yeah," said Spike, not really listening.
Rarity stopped talking. The bags he held were blocking his face, so he couldn't see her. He kept his eyes on the ground; much as usually liked spending time with Rarity, he found himself wanting to get away from her.
She magicked the bags out of his claws and pressed her front hooves against his cheeks. "Oh, Spike, are you upset about something?"
"Rarity, don't!" He backed away from her.
She frowned.
Moondancer, apparently out for a walk, rounded a corner and stopped when she saw Spike and Rarity. Spike's heart sank. He didn't want to spend time with either Rarity or Moondancer right now, and he certainly didn't want to spend time with both of them together.
The easy grin on Moondancer's face grew larger, and she tossed her head as she trotted over. "Hello, Spike. I feel like I've barely seen you since I've been in town."
"Well, you've only been here since last night," Spike said.
"True enough." Her smile disappeared for a moment as she tapped her horn, which the dingy gray magical shield still enwrapped. "I was really hoping I could find Princess Luna and get her to take this off. It's difficult to function without magic."
"You and Spike must have been friends in Canterlot," Rarity said. "Spikey-wikey, aren't you going to introduce me?"
"What did you call him?" Moondancer asked.
Spike swallowed. He looked back and forth between the two Unicorn Ponies. Their manes were different colors, Moondancer slouched while Rarity stood straight, and Rarity had perfect conformation while Moondancer was slightly over at the knees, but otherwise they looked a great deal alike. "Uh . . . Rarity, this is Moondancer. Like you said, we were friends-"
"Oh, Spike, I always thought of us as more than just friends," said Moondancer, giving him a wink.
Spike felt heat creep into his face.
"I agree," Rarity said. "He's so helpful. Sometimes I tell Twilight I'm so jealous that she has such a wonderful and kee-yewt assistant." She rubbed his head.
Moondancer frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Yes. I can relate. But I hardly think cute is the right word."
Startled out of his melancholy, Spike gazed up at her. "You don't?"
"Of course not. You're a dragon. Dragons are fierce, powerful."
"Sometimes I don't feel very fierce or powerful," Spike mumbled, walking away.
"You shouldn't," Moondancer answered as she and Rarity followed, trotting alongside him. "You're a baby dragon," aren't you?"
"Sounds like it."
"Well, someday soon, you'll grow up. You'll be plenty fierce then."
"Oh, good Celestia, no," Rarity said. "And ruin his adorable little baby face?" She reached for his cheeks again.
"Rarity, cut it out." He brushed her hooves away.
"Why don't you leave him alone?" Moondancer snapped.
"Leave him alone? But I was just-"
"You were just treating him like a baby, and it's obvious he doesn't like it."
"But he is a baby. You said so yourself."
"Yes, technically, but dragons don't age like ponies, now do they? Get all gooey on him and the poor thing will stay a baby forever." She gave Spike a gentle nudge with a knee. "I always thought you acted quite mature, Spike."
"Oh," he said, blinking, dazed. "Did you?"
She leaned down and whispered, "You couldn't tell?"
He felt his face growing hot again.
Rarity's mouth hung open for a moment. "Well, I never," she said when she recovered, sticking her muzzle in the air.
"I'm sure," Moondancer answered. "I'm sure you never. Come along, Spike."
"But-" Spike started to protest, but in the end followed Moondancer, leaving Rarity behind.
When they rounded a corner into an alley, Moondancer looked right and left, and then she planted a kiss full on his lips.
Spike felt his face grow hot again, and then the rest of him followed. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, and his head lightened, as if had downed a full mug of strong sarsaparilla.
Moondancer pulled away, but then nuzzled his cheek. "Grow up quick," she breathed in his ear. Then she galloped away.
Spike leaned against a wall to catch his breath and let his heart slow. He looked up, and his stomach sank into his knees: Rarity stood at the opening of the alleyway, a look of disgust on her face. She turned from him with a snap of her head, lifted her muzzle into the air, and walked off.
Spike slid down the wall and buried his face in his claws.
Border towns as a rule had few Unicorns to begin with; generally, Earth Ponies were more inclined than either Unicorns or Pegasi both to exploration and to hard work. Due to the recent string of grisly murders, the few Unicorns who lived in the wilder places were moving to the urban centers, leaving the settlers without any magical aids.
Fireflight was a white Pegasus, a royal guard from Canterlot Castle, and he had the unenviable duty of overseeing the hunt for the killers. He had spent the last week in the desert town of Appleloosa, which was blistering hot even in late fall. He sweltered in his ceremonial armor and dreamt of the day he could return to the capitol and take a proper bath.
He had spent the last week assisting Sheriff Silver Star and the recently deputized Braeburn in their investigations. In the process, Fireflight had concluded that Silver Star and Braeburn were uneducable hicks from the sticks, and Silver Star and Braeburn had simultaneously concluded that Fireflight was an insufferable city slicker.
The three of them now trotted through miles of hot sand on the way to the buffalo camp. Braeburn and Silver Star were properly shod for the journey and were accustomed to long walks. Fireflight was exhausted, and he kept getting sand in his platinum bell boots, which were chafing his coronets. He would have simply flown, but his armor was heavy.
They stopped to rest in a narrow canyon where they could share a patch of shade under an overhang of sandstone. Braeburn took a knife in his teeth, stripped the needles and skin from a prickly pear, and ate. Fireflight pulled a canteen and a portable salt lick from his saddlebags and tried to replace some of the fluid he was losing in his constant stream of sweat. Silver Star lit a cigar.
Fireflight scrambled to his hooves when he saw two bulky figures standing on a ledge over the end of the canyon. Wavering in the heat rising from the rocks, the figures gazed solemnly down at the ponies and then silently disappeared.
Silver Star stubbed out his cigar. "That's th' signal, I reckon. Let's go, boys."
The canyon ended in a collapsed slope of boulders. The ponies scrambled up to the top and found a knot of buffalo waiting for them, including Chief Thunderhooves, wearing his regal headdress of eagle feathers, and the young Little Strongheart.
Braeburn leaned toward Fireflight and whispered, "Listen, compadre, ya wanna be real respectful when talkin' t' buffalo. Jist let me an' the sheriff-"
Fireflight cut him off. "I have taken many courses on the proper ways to communicate with the more primitive species, Braeburn. Leave this to me."
"But-"
Fireflight cantered up to the buffalo, cleared his throat, and raised his right foreleg. "How. Me Fireflight. Me servant of Great White Pony. Great White Pony is heap big mucky-muck, have-em big medicine, make-em sun move in sky."
Thunderhooves turned to Braeburn and Silver Star and asked in his slow, deep voice, "Who is this imbecile?"
"He's from Canterlot and serves Princess Celestia," Braeburn said.
"Well, why did he not say so? I cannot understand a word of his nonsense. Now, what is this I hear about murderers?"
"Somepony's killin' Unicorn Ponies, and we need trackers," Silver Star said.
Thunderhooves tilted his head toward Little Strongheart. "She is the best tracker among the buffalo."
Silver Star swallowed. "Uh, y'all wanna send a filly? We have to deal with some things that ain't so nice."
"I can handle it," Little Strongheart said.
Braeburn and Silver Star glanced at each other. Silver Star shrugged.
Little Strongheart poked Fireflight in the side. "Come on, heap big imbecile, let's go find these killers of yours."
They stood in a small box canyon. After they drove off the buzzards, all was silent except the droning of flies over what remained of the three Unicorn corpses. Fireflight, a hint of green having entered his face, held a perfumed kerchief to his muzzle.
"We didn't move anything," Silver Star explained. "Didn't want to mess up your work."
Little Strongheart calmly walked around the bodies. They were bruised and battered, having apparently been in a terrific struggle, but the only mortal marks on them were on their heads, where their horns had been torn away, exposing the red insides of their skulls, at which the buzzards had been picking, and over which the flies now crawled in seething masses.
"Tell me about Unicorns," Little Strongheart said as she moved her eyes carefully over the bodies.
"Well," Braeburn said, "they got magic powers. What else you wanna know?"
"Everything. Why would somebison take their horns?"
"That's the source o' their magic, but that's about all we can tell ya. Nopony really understands Unicorn magic or where it comes from . . . Oh, their horns are hard, too. Nothin' can cut 'em, 'cept diamond. Some o' th' fancy-shmancy ones polish their horns with diamond files."
"The killers cut around the horns," Little Strongheart said. "And it looks like they did it while the Unicorns were still alive."
"We know all this!" cried Fireflight.
Little Strongheart pointed to the deep cuts in the dead ponies' fetlocks, which were tied together with ropes. "They struggled really hard," she said.
"Can you find the killers?" Fireflight shouted. "Useless settler ponies, useless buffalo! Did we march all the way out there and back to hear things we already know?"
"Fireflight," Silver Star said quietly, "I'd kindly ask ya t' shutcher yap 'fore I shut if for ya."
"There are drops of blood on the ground to the southeast," Little Strongheart said, "and the sand is disturbed. The killers walked that way. There were at least four of them, and they bent this grass as they passed." Keeping her eyes low to the ground, she followed the trail. "They brushed their tracks as they went."
"Maybe tied branches to their tails," Silver Star suggested. "That'd do it."
"These weren't ponies. Or buffalo," Little Strongheart said. She ran up to the open end of the canyon, watching the displacement of rocks, the broken leaves of grass, the disturbances in the sand. When she reached the end of the canyon, she stared out over the broad desert. The small, dusty town of Appleloosa nestled to the south. Sand dunes and broken boulders stretched to the east. To the north were steep mountains full of caves.
She looked back over her shoulder. "It's the way they move," she said. "They walk very strangely, and they only have two legs."
"Minotaurs, maybe," Braeburn suggested. "Or satyrs. They can both be pretty vicious."
"Could be satyrs," Little Strongheart said, "but they weren't heavy enough to be minotaurs."
After the ponies joined Little Strongheart at the mouth of the canyon, she pointed to the mountains. "They went there."
Silver Star nodded. "I'll round up a posse. Think you can take us straight to their hideout?"
"Probably, but I can't guarantee they'll still be there."
"Let's go, then," said Fireflight. "At last we're getting somewhere."
Braeburn shook his head and spat into the sand. "You three go. Somepony needs to bury the dead."
Night had come, and the moon was high when Twilight Sparkle at last walked through the door of the library. She had been out all day, unsure when she was welcome to return, and hoping to avoid further encounters with Moondancer. She crept in as quietly as she could; because the lights were out, she had assumed Spike and the ambassador were in bed. She was surprised to find Spike sitting in the middle of the floor, holding Peewee.
"Spike?"
He looked up and snuffled. "Twilight?" She couldn't see his face clearly in the gloom, but the stuffy sound of his voice suggested he had been weeping.
"Where's the ambassador?"
"I don't know. He left with Luna, and they haven't come back yet."
She slowly walked toward him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Doesn't sound like nothing."
He looked down and petted the baby phoenix. "Have you ever wanted things you know you can't have?"
"Of course. Everypony has."
"Have you ever wanted a bunch of things that you can't have at the same time?"
"Well, I don't know about a bunch . . . I've simultaneously wanted an ice cream sundae, and to stay thin. Does that count?"
"I want to grow up," he said, "but I don't want to take things that aren't mine. I want to meet my parents, but I don't want to be a dragon lord."
Twilight drew closer; Spike looked up at her, and she could see tears running down his cheeks.
"I wanted to find out who I really was," he said, "but I didn't want to find out I was an Earth Dragon from Draconium."
"Oh, Spike."
He set Peewee down and ran to her. She wrapped her front legs around him and held him as he sobbed.
"Why didn't Celestia tell us?" he cried.
"She meant to, Spike. She said so. But she wanted us to grow up first- both of us- before we had to deal with it. And she did tell us, remember? After the dragon migration, when she got your letter? She called us to Canterlot to tell us where you were from, and she gave me the Encyclopaedia Draconica-"
"I wish she'd told me before. But I also wish I'd never found out."
"I'm sorry, Spike. You can't choose what you are or where you're from, but you can choose what to do with it."
"Can I? Am I going to be a baby forever?"
"I don't know."
He clenched his claws in the fur of her neck. "I don't want to be what I am, and I don't want to be from where I'm from."
Twilight said nothing.
"I wish I were a pony," Spike whispered.
She thought silently for a long minute before she answered.
"I . . . I wish you were, too." She bit her lip, swallowed, and added, "So you could be here with me forever."
She looked down at him. His slit pupils reflected a white glint of light. His arms clutched her neck, and his claws tangled in her mane. Under the pressure of his grasp, she slowly lowered her face toward his. She could hear the rate of his breathing increase slightly, and he swallowed. His eyes still looked into hers. His breath smelled like sulfur. She heard her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Suddenly, Twilight pulled away and rose to her hooves. "This isn't right," she said. She walked away from him, shaking her head. "I've barely slept in the last two days. I need to get to bed." She glanced over her shoulder. "You should get to bed, too, Spike."
She walked up the stairs to the bedroom, leaving Spike alone.
Again, Spike held his face in his claws and cried.
Next: Severin's Heroes