//------------------------------// // Mirror, Mirror // Story: My Little Dragon // by Metal Pony Fan //------------------------------// That was a disaster. Spike examined his reflection in the mirror. A complete and total disaster. After rinsing the last of the sticky substance off his face, he applied a spell to grow back the missing patches of fur. He had been through torture that didn’t hurt as bad as that, that caramel apple. The apple part was fine. In fact, it was amazing. It was unlike anything Spike had ever tasted. It was sweet and crunchy, but juicy and light at the same time. It had to be the perfect food. So who’s bright idea was it to cover one in sugary glue and sell it as a snack? Spike checked his reflection one last time to make sure he had himself completely patched up before exiting the library’s bathroom. The bathroom exited to a small hallway with three doors. He had just exited one of them. The door closest to that one was open; it led to a storage closet full of cleaning supplies. Spike walked towards the third door, the one at the far end of the hall that led to the library’s main room. The main room was large, easily able to hold several dragons, provided they could fit through the door, of course. Being a library, bookshelves filled every nook and cranny. In the center of the room stood a large table built from a slab of dark grey stone. Cushions of various sizes sat on the floor around the tables edge. The cushions caught Spike’s eye when he entered the library. One of the things Ice Heart taught him, when he wasn’t enduring some bizarre new training exercise, was how to watch for signs of other dragons, even if the dragons themselves are not present. One of those signs was the wear and tear on everyday objects. Of the dozen cushions, only six of them showed any appreciable signs of wear. Two of the cushions were worn more than the others. Spike assumed these were used by Rarity and Twilight. One was a bright red velvet with gold accents. It was about the size of his own cushion in the royal library. The other was smaller, overstuffed, and pushed right up against the velvet one. The purple fabric was patched in places and scorched in others. A line of indentions in the padding seemed to mark where a small dragon, presumably Twilight, laid back to read. Spike pushed the thought of seat cushions out of his head as he pushed open the door to the main room. Rarity was sitting on the red velvet cushion, confirming Spike’s suspicions. A nervous smile rested on her face and her eyes darted about. Twilight was not sitting in a cushion. Instead, the hatchling was on the floor, giggling and rolling around. With a forced chuckle, Rarity snaked her tail around the young dragon’s midsection. She hoisted Twilight into the air and set her down in an upright position facing their unicorn visitor. “Good as new,” she proclaimed loudly, “what do you think, Twilight?” “I think that was funny.” The hatchling immediately dropped to the floor and started rolling and laughing again. “I like you, Spike.” Spike let his head droop until it was even with his shoulders. At least he made a good impression. Just once though, he would like to find a way to do that without incurring bodily harm on his part. Rarity saw Spike’s reaction and tried to cheer him up. “It wasn’t that bad, darling.” Her resolve faltered a little. It was pretty bad, especially the screaming, but she could downplay it a little. “Twilight is just …” she picked up the hatcling as she rolled by, “easily amused.” Rarity set the hatchling down and gave her a stern, warning look before shooing her off towards the stairs that lead to her room. “I’m sure she didn’t stick it to your forehead on purpose.” “Yeah I did.” Twilight grabbed a book off the shelf closest to the stairs. “I had to see if it stuck to fur as well as scales.” She examined the book for a moment before deciding it was the one she needed. She started up the stairs with a gleam in her eye. “I have enough data, now I can try to help Pinkie make a caramel coating that doesn’t stick so much!” Spike rubbed the aforementioned spot with a hoof. The fur was back, good as new, but he could still feel the sting of it being pulled out. It was like some sort of phantom pain from when Grumble tried to remove the caramel apple. The fur also felt different. It was softer and smoother than the rest of his coat. Spike wondered if it was supposed to be like that, or if it was a side effect from an imperfect spell. “I have to make sure Ice Heart never learns of that particular treat’s existence.” He put his hoof down and looked off to the side, wondering if such a task was even possible. “Or at least make sure he doesn’t learn about them in the next two weeks.” “Um, excuse me?” Rarity stepped off her cushion and towards Spike as he sat there lost in thought. She gently placed a claw against his unscarred shoulder to get his attention. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you keep saying, ‘two weeks’? Is something going to happen in two weeks?” Spike snapped himself out of his cogitation and quickly turned to face Rarity, completely unaware that she had moved closer to him. The ends of their noses bumped together. Spike backpedaled quickly, but tried to act like nothing happened. Tried. “Oh! Um, no. I, uh, nothing’s happening!” He blushed furiously as his tongue tripped and tumbled over his words. Rarity turned her white-scaled head to one side, glancing away. “If you say so.” She put a claw to the side of her face, scratching in what she hoped would appear to be a neutral gesture. Under her claw, unseen by spike, her face carried a tint similar to that of a ruby. Spike shook his head when she wasn’t looking and tried to focus on something besides her. He looked at the cushions again and tried to determine what sort of dragons frequented the remaining four. “Actually, In two weeks, my military service ends.” One of the cushions was bright pink, maybe it belonged to Aunt Pinkie. Rarity walked over to the nearest window and started fussing over the curtains. “I see, you are retiring then?” Is that dust? She flicked at the curtain with the back of a claw. Yes, it most certainly is. This place needs a thorough cleaning one of these days. There was an orange cushion, that one was pretty much flattened. The dragon that sits there must be the largest of the bunch. “I’m not actually retiring.” The last two cushions were yellow and light blue. They showed the least amount of wear. The dragons that sit there must be light, most likely flying types. That, or they just don’t come by as often as the others. “You have to be career to retire, I’m just finishing up my mandatory service.” “Really?” Rarity moved on to a nearby bookshelf. She levitated a small rag up to the highest shelf and rubbed it against the surface. “I may be mistaken, but I thought centurion was a rather prestigious rank.” “Well, I don’t know about prestige,” Spike scratched at his mane, something he’d been doing a lot lately, “General Ice Heart never really was one for ceremony. He just grabbed me one day and dragged me to a meeting of all the generals. He introduced me as his personal aide and gave me the rank of centurion on the spot. Things sort of went downhill from there.” “Yes, depths of tartarus and what-not,” Rarity mumbled, recalling the conversation she overheard at Sugarcube Corner. She pulled the rag down from the top of the bookcase and inspected it. Competely covered in dust, this place is simply filthy. “So, how does the ranking system work?” Spike took to inspecting a large wooden statue of Starswirl the gilded that was tucked away in the corner. “The lowest rank is fighter, you receive that after completing the basic training course. One step above that is the rank of specialist.” “Ah, yes.” Rarity ran out of things to pretend to clean, so she grabbed a magazine that was tucked in with the books and flipped it open to a random page. “Grumble introduced himself as a specialist.” Spike nodded. That statue is quite detailed, it must have been expensive. “Specialist isn’t exactly a rank though, it’s more of a title. It’s given when a dragon demonstrates a useful or unique skill, for example, Grumble’s skill was silent flight before he lost his secondary wings, after that he became proficient in aerial combat. A dragon that doesn’t gain the title of specialist usually doesn’t make it past the rank of fighter.” “I see.” Rarity looked down at her magazine and read the title of the article she opened to. “Ten ways to tell if he’s the Drake for you.” She folded the magazine up and shoved it back on the shelf, silently vowing to make some changes to her choice of reading material. “He certainly demonstrated those skills earlier. So, what about the higher ranks?” Spike walked to a bookshelf on the other side of the room. “The first real rank above fighter is Pentarch, like Fire Flash. A Pentarch has five fighters under his or her command. Above that is a Tetrarch who commands two Pentarchs and their fighters for a total of twelve dragons. A centurion commands ten tetrarchs and their subordinates for a total of a hundred and thirty dragons. The last rank, General, puts one in command of between two and five centurions. A general answers directly to the princess.” Spike reached out and took hold of a random book. “Except Ice Heart, I don’t think he answers to anydragon.” Spike glanced at the book he was pulling off the shelf. He pushed it back into place as quickly as possible. “Wooing your Dragoness: A reference for boneheaded idiots.” Rarity gave up on finding distractions and set herself down on her cushion. “So, what do you plan on doing with your… I hope you’ll forgive me if I call it retirement, but I simply cannot think of a better word for it.” Spike wasn’t so easily deterred he reached at least another dozen books before noticing their titles. “Well, I have two years worth of reading to catch up on, then I’m going to try to find out more about my species.” After a while, Spike noticed a small brass tag attached to the front of the bookshelf. “Romantic self-help.” He cleared his throat and moved on to the next set of shelves. “After all, I can’t be the only pony in the world.” He grabbed a book with no title on its gold-leafed spine. With a deep breath, he steeled his resolve. It couldn’t be any worse than the others. He pulled it out only to be faced with a picture. An orange dragon in a hat was pulling a cart full of apples up a steep hill. The cart was larger than the dragon and some of the apples were falling out of it. The title of the book was above the picture, “The Little Farmer that Could: Written and Illustrated by B.M. Apple.” Spike let out a sigh. Who keeps the hatchling’s books next to the romance section? Rarity glanced over at Spike, then down at the book in his hoof. “Ah, I see you’ve found one of Twilight’s favorite books.” Her eyes darted to the side as her mind started churning, forming an, “Ide~a!” She hopped out of her cushion and headed for a door tucked away between two bookshelves. “Come with me, darling. Oh, I don’t know why I didn’t realize this before.” She went through the door, leaving Spike alone in the library’s main room. He glanced around before shrugging and putting the book back where he got it from. He then followed Rarity through the door into what appeared to be a basement. There was a set of stairs before him descending into darkness. He could see a faint purple glow ahead of him, most likely Rarity casting a light-gathering spell. He cast his own green tinted spell and followed her down the steps. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, He saw the dragoness walking along the wall, searching for something. He walked over to her and adjusted his spell. He made it a little brighter and removed the green tint. “That is so much better.” Rarity kept searching along the wall. “Ah! There it is.” She walked over to a switch on the wall and pressed her claw against it. “You may want to close your eyes dear, it is about to get a little-“ The lights snapped on, sudden illumination burning Spike’s dilated pupil’s. “Gah! Bright!” He closed his eyes and threw a hoof over his head in a futile effort to shield them. Whatever light source now lit the room, it was far brighter than the spells he and Rarity had been using. He lifted his hoof slowly, squinting and letting his eyes adjust. When he could comfortably look around, the first thing he did was look up. Glowing spheres were embedded in the wall near the ceiling. Spike couldn’t look at it for long, it was far too bright for that. “Are those electric lights?” Rarity glanced up at the light. “Oh, goodness no,” she gave a dismissive wave of a claw, “nothing so fancy. Simple Chlorocrysts, they store the light absorbed by the library’s leaves, though I’m sure you’ve heard of them before.” Spike hopped up on his back hooves, placing his front hooves against the wall as he examined the light-emitting gem. “I’ve heard of them, but they’re kind of rare. Not many dragon settlements have enough plant life to install them.” “That’s not surprising.” She stole a glance at the unicorn and thought about what he said earlier, about him finding her attractive. He certainly wasn’t bad looking himself, but the fur coat struck her as odd. An idle claw found its way to the end of her nose, listlessly rubbing where his bumped into it. His fur was a bit softer than Opal’s, and she found herself wondering if he had to take special care of it to keep it that way. Opalescence would probably be so much nicer looking if she was brushed every so often, but that silly tiger just refuses to be pampered. “Anyway,” she walked towards the middle of the room, “I was hoping you could help make some sense of this.” “Huh?” Spike cut short his examination of the room’s lighting and turned around. He let out a horrified gasp at what he saw. His left eye started to twitch and his upper lip pulled back in disgust as he walked forward stiffly. “What happened here?” Rarity looked at the pile of books beside her. His reaction seemed a little severe to her. Sure, it was a little messy, but none of the books were damaged. “We ran out of room upstairs. We had to start bringing the books down here.” Maybe he’s just surprised by the size of the pile? It is taller than either of them. Spike reached a shaky hoof towards the pile. “B-but,” he swung his hoof around to indicate the surrounding walls, each of which had bookshelves carved directly into them, “why are they on the floor?”