Though she might complain a bit on the surface, it was an open secret that Twilight Sparkle thrived on the workload Celestia sent her. Sure, to outsiders it could - at times - seem excessive, overwhelming even. But Twilight quietly reveled in the implicit sense of trust her mentor displayed. So much work upon one pupil might seem harsh, but that's not how Twilight took it! It seemed confident. It seemed assured. Not to mention the never-ending, enthusiastic support from her young study, Spike! And so it was with a happy, dutiful sigh that the unicorn sat at her desk under the gentle flicker of lamplight, parchments and quills and inkwells and books neatly placed before her. She took up her quill - tapping the nib carefully on the edge of the inkwell - in the shimmer of a purple aura, beginning to scrawl notes on the dusty parchment before her, outlining the dense tome her snout was buried in. It was a book on the pre-history of Equestria, detailing the Lunar Struggle that lead to-
...or not, Twilight puzzled, as it became quickly apparent that she was reading a book on the various flora of modern Equestria, and not a history book. With a scrunched muzzle and a frustrated huff, Twilight craned her neck, scanning the spines of the pile of books on her desk. Her eyes narrowed through dangling purple bangs, reading the rambling list of book titles. A Symposiom on the Ethics of Amniomorphic Magi, 1001 Uses for Molted Feathers, Humans: Myth or Monster?... nope, she didn't have that book with her! Twilight huffed, having her workflow so rudely interrupted.
"Spike, could you do me a favor? I forgot to get the ONE book I need, could you grab The Eternal Night: An Overlook at Threats Prevented? I think it's... on..."
Twilight's voice trailed off. The sound of the eager footfall of chubby dragon feet would have normally interrupted her by now, and it's absence slowly reached the precipice of her mind. She blinked, returning her neck upright, corners of her mouth falling into a concerned frown. Her head bobbed back and forth, scanning the library, and noting the conspicuous lack of a certain baby dragon. She swallowed a lump in her throat. With the heavy thump of hooves against hardwood, Twilight hopped out of her chair, calling out into her echoing hallways once more, "Spike...?"
No response.
Her eyebrows bent. Pensive hoofbeats and an audibly thumping heart echoed through empty hallways as she apprehensively proceeded, eyes warily scanning back and forth between infinite walls and rows of books. He's probably just focused on whatever dinner he's scrounging up. Yeah, he's just got a hungry belly, she tried to reassure herself. She chewed on the corner of her lower lip as she stepped passed the observatory window, catching a glance of the sinking sun in the sky, the rolling hues of vermilions and lavenders crashing against the rooftops of Ponyville. Despite the worry plaguing her mind, she couldn't help but pause and admire the sight - if only for a moment. The Royal Sisters did such beautiful work. Her mind would trail happily to Celestia before swirling quickly back to Spike, pupils constricting with the sudden rush of worried adrenaline. Twilight shook her head with a groan, and it was sheer serendipity that led her to stare back out the window one more time. And there, walking his stubby little legs with purpose, she saw a familiar blur of orchid and green scales making its way towards the library.
"Spike!?"
* * * * *
Pickaxe stumbled over his own hooves, encumbered with the weighty boots necessary for traversing such challenging terrain. He cursed under his breath with a stifled snort and a frustrated flick of his ears, doing his best to silence himself, pensive gaze scanning upwards as he craned his neck. The blazing sky gave no sign of relent as he squinted brown eyes from under the rim of his pith helmet, the harsh canyon walls framing the intense, beating sun and meandering sky, craggy walls offering the occasional whisper and grumble as errant pebbles tumbled down rocky walls. The Earth pony scanned the sky, gasping and hugging a shadowed wall at once! The sun momentarily gave way to the flicker of a shadow, a swooping wall of darkness passing overhead. Distant growls, roars rumbled. More pebbles - some rocks - tumbled their way down the canyon as the dragons overhead began to roost.
He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, doing his best to keep his breathing to short, quiet little puffs through gritted teeth. A trembling, clay-colored nose dove in his saddlebag, digging around before retrieving a notepad and pencil. He hunkered down, pencil in his teeth, doing his best to scrawl messily in his notes.
Dragons appear flighted, comfortable in arid terrain. Mated pairs? Maternal instinct apparent but unsure. 50ft observed approx. in flight, by shadow, assumed @ maturity? No speech observed, presumed oviparous, nests appear to be made of sto
Pickaxe swallowed a yelp at the overwhelming THUMP from above him, diving down and hugging the wall for dear life, notepad and pencil abandoned to fate. Terrified eyes dared to peek upwards through a pumpkin mane, and as he watched the violet, scaly hide settle on the rocky overhang mere feet above him, a mocking voice sang inside his head. Wow Princess Celestia, a Royal Exotic Field Researcher? Of course of course, thank you! I'm so honored to be considered for such a PRESTIGIOUS position!
A massive dragon foot pawed and scratched at the overhang, a cascade of rocks following soon after; Pickaxe winced.
Oh? Of COURSE I understand the danger of such a position! Needless to say, most field research MUST be done solo as to
Even Pickaxe could hear the loud, snorting puffs of a curious dragon sniffing and inspecting... whatever it was that dragons inspected, even through the crackling drizzle of stones still falling. He whimpered, hoping against hope to avoid becoming dragon chow.
preserve the integrity of the natural habitats I would be exploring! I can't believe you would consider me for such a position, Celestia, th
A dragged foot could be heard overhead, followed by the loud tumbling of another stone.
ank you SO much, my liege! I won't let you down! Ha ha. Hahahaha.
He groaned with disdain as he trembled, booted hooves covering his snout. He lay there, frozen. Soon, there was an odd peace, only broken by the occasional tinkle of a falling pebble. Pickaxe worked up the courage from within his quaking form to peer out from his shielding hooves - and for all the quiet and still he'd been maintaining, the gasp pulled from his throat might have betrayed his presence that much more easily. But he couldn't help it; before him, laid not a particularly large stone, but rather what he could only assume was a dragon egg. He didn't move, he only laid there, shocked, noting its lightly dimpled, lavender surface, its purple freckles, it's... stillness.
But Pickaxe only admired such a rare sight for a moment before an entirely new rush of panic washed over the poor pony form. A dragon egg means curious, searching dragon parents. He assumed. He, nor any other pony, knew THAT much about dragons - that's what he was sent to remedy - but parents tend to be protective and he wasn't about to bank on an exception to that right now. Hooves trembling in their boots, he pushed himself off that wall he'd held onto for so much security, figuring that they'd either see him returning the egg on his own, or when they came to search for it; might as well demonstrate good will. His belly dragged along the unforgiving terrain as he inched towards the egg, terrified gasps muffled through a tight-lipped muzzle. Each inch he crawled took an eternity, eventually returning to the harsh rays of the assaulting sun, never before more thankful for his hat. Finally, thank the stars, he reached the large egg, almost touching his snout with it.
With shaky, slow, careful knees Pickaxe stood, eyes wide with terror as he slowly turned his head sideways. Some part of him was expecting to be greeted with a gnashing maw, a roar, and his own demise - so his entire frame visibly relaxed at seeing the colossal being at rest, back turned to the pony. The dragon was curled upon the overhang (which Pickaxe now guessed to be a nest?), wings furled around its shoulders, tail lazily wrapped around its massive girth.
And it was only then that he truly understood just how low the overhang was. An odd mix of terror and relief washed over him upon the realization that he could reach the nest.
Pickaxe swallowed, gathering within the pit of his being a new resolve. With an energized grunt, he circled the egg, rolling it forward with his forehead, carefully doing his best to about the bumps and pits of the uneven ground. In short time he reached the edge of the craggy wall, raising his head with a tight-lipped expression. Alright. Forehooves carefully leveraged themselves on the cusp on the egg, and he began to heft and roll the heavy object up the uneven wall. He could see the dragon's tail idly shifting so close above him; the trembles started again. He froze; egg pinned in between his forehooves and the canyon wall. He could see how close he was to the cusp of her nest, not to mention how close the dragon was.
Now or never.
With a grunt and a terrified shove, he catapulted the egg over its tail, into the nest, and threw his body again in the safety of the shadowy overhang in one scrambling move. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only wait.
And wait.
And after what seemed like forever, he again heard that familiar shuffling, the guttural grunts of the dragon trundling to its feet; Pickaxe remained frozen. Deep puffs of dragon sniffing, scraping of pebbles, dragon talons kicking, the tumble of an object, a familiar egg rolling before his eyes. His eyes grew wide.
Pensively, the pony crawled back out from the shadows, adjusting the rim of his hat, looking to the familiar egg, then back up to the nesting beast. Again, it was curled up and appeared to be sleeping once more. His eyes darted between the egg and dragon, confused. He furrowed his brow, and - emboldened by the heretofore lack of aggression from the beast - retrieved his pad and pencil. Returning to the shadows, he continued.
...made of stone, low altitude, brooding by 1(?) parent. Apparent incidents of rejection of young? Egg fallen from nest. Reintroduction attempted, rejection repeated. Causes unknown, further investigation needed
Pickaxe sighed, carefully sitting on his haunches, back pressing against the rocky facade of the canyon wall. The pencil hung lazily in his lips, notebook sitting idly in his hooves. His head lolled back with a gentle thump as thoughts raced through his head.
But his moment of peace was short-lived. The calamitous clanking and trumpeting of chariots, the echoing wingbeats, the determined whinnies and rustling of armor; Princess Celestia's entourage carried a distinctive noise. He winced at the whooshing rush of air pressure bearing down against him as the startled dragon took to the wing with a startled growl, hooves darting up to protect his noggin from sudden falling pebbles. He sat still, hearing the settling of the rocks before peeking up to see his liege, flanked by gold-clad pegasi, chariots crudely, crookedly parked on the narrow canyon path.
"Aha, Princess Celestia! What a sight for tired eyes," Pickaxe would practically laugh as he bowed on his forelegs, looking up from under the rim of his hat with a wearied smile. Never before had he been more happy for such a serendipitous rendezvous time.
"Sir Pickaxe!" The princess would smile a stately smile, craning her long neck in return with a grin. "It would seem we arrived just in time, then? Are you okay?"
"Y-yes, Princess! I mean, yes, I'm okay. But also, y-yes, I'm very thankful that... yes, everything is okay, Princess."
She would smile, relieved. But it wouldn't take long before she looked over idly, noticing the lavender egg laying several feet from her field researcher. She turned to Pickaxe, mouth opening to speak - but he would beat her to the punch.
"Y-yes, Princess, the egg! It's, um, I have to be honest and say not something I wholly understand myself? But. Well," he stumbled over to Celestia's side, nosing through his notes enthusiastically, tripping over his words and clamoring to tell him what he'd observed. How it'd pushed it BACK out of the nest, and how he'd THOUGHT it was just an accident and and and.
Celestia listened intently, gentle eyes following along in his notes. Once he'd reached the end of his diatribe, she would take a moment to digest all she'd just heard. A light sigh would escape her nostrils.
"Well, if such is the case..."
* * * * *
Sure, some part of Spike's mind was faintly aware of the sinking sun, and another faint part of him was probably aware of the curious nature of such a late arrival home, but those thoughts were distant and irrelevant to the smirking dragon. No, Spike had plans. Big ones. Plans so spendiferous and fantastical that they needed every ounce of cunning and wit he could come up with (which was a lot). There had been false starts in the past! Attempts and follies, times that Spike was sure that he was using every ounce of cunning and wit he could come up with. But this time, he was positive; he HAD to be! And so it was with all the bravado he could muster that he combed through the (proportionately) tall grass homewards, clutching an armful of sundry items against his chest as well as he could manage, humming a gentle tune under his breath.
Due to the umbrella in his grasp jutting in front of his line of vision, Spike didn't even see Twilight galloping towards him. It was only the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats that betrayed anypony's approach, and Spike did his best to maneuver his tiny snout around the armful of objects to see the source of it. It was a futile endeavor, teetering on unsteady feet to try and catch a peek.
"SPIKE!"
"G'ahh!" he yelped, tossing his prizes with the shout. He looked to Twilight with a pout, then to the ground, "Do you know how long it took me to get all this stuff?! What the hay, Twilight!" he huffed, immediately setting to the task of gathering them back up with a dour expression.
"Where were you? You didn't tell me you were going anywhere!" Twilight's chest heaved, jaw just barely hanging slack, eyes restlessly pinging between her young friend and his strange collection of goods. The tiniest of shakes was perceptible in her legs.
"Geez, Twilight, relax, I'm fine," he grumbled, doing his best to compromise a long length of rope on top of of a pair of goggles in his clutches. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes pinned downwards.
"I can see that now, but I didn't... know... Spike, what is all this stuff?" she said, tone changing mid-sentence, catching her breath with a few deep sighs, tossing her head lightly in a nervous gesture, blinking.
That question seemed to be enough to snap Spike out of his grump. His eyes flickered with a glimmer of enthusiasm, flicking his earfins as he looked up to Twilight with a big grin. "Aha, so you noticed!"
Twilight's expression was a tight-lipped one, and her eyes rolled the lightest of rolls. Horn shimmering, she hefted Spike's umbrella out of the grass in a helpful gesture, only to have Spike hop and snatch the hovering implement in his own claws. Twilight's magical grasp didn't relent, and Spike hung there, tail tip barely touching the ground, one arm skywards and clinging to the umbrella, the other cradled around his stuff, holding it tightly to his chest. She couldn't help but chuckle a little bit seeing his short legs idly kick and search for ground, but it wasn't long before she gently lowered both dragon and umbrella, lavender aura dissipating from it.
"Very perceptive, Twilight!" Spike grinned.
Twilight blinked.
"Well, you know how last time I was SURE I had figured out the ultimate plan, right?"
"Wait, Spike -"
"Yeah, of course you do! Every bit of my cunning and wit, right? Well now I'm ultra, super, one-hundred percent -"
"Is that a hairbrush?"
"Yes. ...sure that THIS plan has EVERY bit of my cunning and wit, and -"
"Oh no, Spike, no no no. Not this again, please."
" -this is finally it! Gosh I'm so excited Twilight, I've planned out every detail to a T, this is gonna be perfect and -"
Twilight groaned before he could even finish his sentence. To be honest, she was barely listening; not out of disrespect, but out of the knowledge of what her young friend's spiel was. She'd heard it about seven times before, by her count. And so due to this, the duo spoke the next sentence in perfect synchronicity, apart from tone;
Twilight grumbled and Spike declared with bubbling enthusiasm, "Tomorrow's gonna be the day I FINALLY win Rarity's heart!"