//------------------------------// // Withered by Age // Story: A Piece of Unwritten History // by Of No Importance //------------------------------// Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Nine Thousand, and Eighty. Happy seven hundred and ninety-second anniversary to him. Now standing at the ripe old age of nine hundred and fourty-three, Spike was no stranger to celebrating said occasion alone. Dipping the tip of his quill into the ink pot, the colossal dragon wrote the next line of his journal. Seventy nine days since the last dragon encounter. Two hundred and five thousand, eight hundred and sixty days since the last visit by Princess Celestia. Fifty-one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-six days since the last pony sighting. Though keeping a journal was considered to be a necessity, Spike had settled largely for simply keeping records of any significant findings. His previous attempts at unpacking any sort of emotion onto the pages usually resulted in the loss of said pages, and there was only so much paper he could afford to waste. Placing the ragged tome back onto his mountainous hoard of gems, bits, knick-knacks, and other semi-valuable objects, the aged guardian stretched out, easing some of the stress out of his aching joints. There wasn't as much space in his cave as he had initially thought all of those years ago, but that was most likely due to his own growth. Yes, the years had changed Spike once again; this time much more drastically. Though he was still able to maintain balance on two feet, the dragon favoured the use of all four. It saved him from bumping his head on the ceiling of his cave, and there usually wasn't a great deal of motivation to leave the cave unless a dragon was approaching. His size was greatly different, as was implied. To give a clear point of reference, the fire ruby that he once wore as a bracelet now rested around the claw of his smallest finger on his right hand, and he had to be very observant of it if he didn't want it falling off. Gazing at Ponyville from the top of the mountain was forbidden as he was now large enough to be seen by any pony who just so happened to look towards the peak, and that was another reason that he could simply stay in his cave for another few weeks or so. Yes, the years had worn down Spike's initial enthusiasm for defending Ponyville, but he was as dutiful as ever before, and nothing would prevent him from protecting the ponies that still resided in that quiet little town. Of course, at the current stage, he had no real idea of who was inhabiting Ponyville, but he could picture them. Descendants of his beloved companions; spread out as far as the eye could see. Mares, stallions, fillies, and colts, all with the tiniest, but most significant of features that just called to a memory of simpler times. Even the thought brought a small smile to the reptile's face, before the inevitable realisation hit him: he would never see any of them. Every fifty years or so, he'd get that same feeling; like somepony he could've known had just passed from the world, while he rotted within his own personal hell. Reaching into his hoard, Spike retrieved a handful of gems, notably sapphires and emeralds, and shovelled them into his titanic jaws; the loud crunches echoing through the cave, serving to remind its occupant just how alone he really was. If he had been asked when he began his duty whether or not he would have a hoard, he would've simply laughed it off. No, Spike wasn't that type of dragon. "I'll scavenge for gems when I need them," he would have said, smiling like the youth he was, "it'll give me something to do." Yet, here he was, a very large dragon with a very large hoard. There wasn't any reason he needed to have such wealth; when he ate, he ate sparingly, and bits were of no use to him, but each piece of his pile had a significance to him, and every treasure he kept, a memory remained. Many ponies had theorised about a dragon's greed, but Spike was starting to think that it was sentimentality, not greed, that caused dragons to hoard. It wasn't so much that they wanted to keep everything for themselves, they just didn't want to be without something that could be of importance in the future. Did he always ramble so, or was it a symptom of his ever apparent old age? Spike's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of leathery wings, clawing at the sky. Lacking the finesse of a pegasus' feathers, or the buzzing repetition of a changeling, a dragon was soaring from over the mountain. Peering out from his cave, Spike caught a glimpse of the offending creature. It was pale orange, not an uncommon colouration, with thick, strong wings attached to its back. Judging by its wingspan, it was passed the adolescent stage, but it couldn't have been more than Spike himself had been on that first lonely night. Taking a deep breath, the guardian of Ponyville called out to the dragon. "Turn back and go home, young one; there is nothing for you here!" His voice was deep and booming, and he had hoped it would command some sort of authority. But, alas, the dragon seemed less than impressed. "Who's there?" The dragon replied; his voice fairly reminiscent of a few other dragons Spike had met over the centuries. Maybe all dragons just sounded alike. "I am the guardian of that town, and I assure you, if you get any closer, you will regret it." The other dragon hadn't gone any closer to Ponyville; his course had instead changed to that of Spike's cave. "This is your last chance, young one. Turn back, return to your roost, and never return." The trespasser stopped to hover just outside the entrance of Spike's cave, the larger dragon concealed completely by darkness. He clenched his fists and yelled into the cave, "Make me!" Though not as agile as he once was, Spike was faster than a dragon of his size had any right to be. The orange dragon only saw the glint of his killer's green eyes before a massive claw lunged out towards him. Being not too slow himself, the orange dragon managed to narrowly avoid decapitation, but he did not escape injury. The tip of one of Spike's razor sharp talons had clipped his side, and blood oozed out of the fresh wound, glistening in the sunlight like a freshly polished ruby. Unlike the ruby, however, neither dragon found this to be appetising. Catching a glimpse of his opponent, the challenger made an attempt to escape, soaring into the open air. Unfortunately, he had missed his opportunity to leave; he had seen Spike, and he couldn't risk the chance of being swarmed by enraged dragons. Spike darted after the fleeing drake, making good use of his superior wing power, and the other dragon's injury, to close the distance between them in a matter of seconds. As his claw approached his prey, Spike could've sworn he heard weeping. It didn't matter, though. It would have been over in a single swipe, but the younger dragon made one last attempt to dodge, dropping down to avoid a fatal blow. This drop, however, only led to Spike's claw tearing through one of his wings, shredding both cartilage and bone alike. He plummeted towards the ground, screaming all the while, and Spike sincerely hoped he would die on impact. Unfortunately, he didn't. When the ancient dragon reached the injured drake, he was desperately trying to crawl away; leaving a trail of blood behind him. Without much exertion, Spike flipped the drake onto his back and prepared to deliver the final blow. "P-Please," the dragon pleaded, "I'll go! I give up!" Spike simply shook his head, considering his options for the fastest and cleanest kill. "I gave you the chance to surrender, youngling, and you ignored it. I'm sorry." "Wait, n-" The blow was quick; the tip of his claw piercing straight through the dragon's skull and ending his life instantly. Upon withdrawing his claw, Spike was greeted with blood gushing from the corpse's cranium, and dyeing the grass an unpleasant shade of red to match the aforementioned trail. "I warned you." Spike muttered bitterly to the quickly forming pool of blood before picking the body up and flying towards a clearing between the mountains. As he flew, Spike could feel the warm liquid dripping through his claws, dyeing his purple scales crimson; a reminder of his actions. The dragon in his claws had once been an egg, just like him, and his death brought no joy to him. It was the nature of his duty, and he had sworn long ago to uphold it. Day Eighteen Spike awoke to the sound of birds singing, and the sight of the freshly risen sun reflecting off of the fire ruby that was resting atop his journal. Everything in Equestria seemed to be saying that it was all going to work out for the lone guardian of Ponyville. Spike stretched out his arms, retrieving the fire ruby while he was at it. He slipped the pendant onto his wrist, as always, and ate a few of the gems he had found the previous night. The drake had restricted himself to only scavenging at night, as he had seen several ponies near his usual stomping ground on his first scavenging run, and the entire point of his position was to remain unseen. The 'guardian of Ponyville', he loved that title, opened his journal and wrote the day down. He was getting into the habit of writing the day at the beginning of the day, and then writing the events of the day as they went along. One of the things he had first discovered about living in isolation was that boredom occurred quite frequently, so having something to do throughout the day was certainly one way of keeping himself occupied. When he wasn't writing in his journal, he was usually looking through his photo albums, or climbing to the peak of the mountain to watch the world around him. He didn't know why, but there was something magical about that place, and it was quickly becoming the highlight of his day. Just as the dragon was considering flipping through his photo album for the umpteenth time, a sound caught his attention. It wasn't a bird singing, or a pony wandering too far away from home; it was different. Slowly, Spike crept out of his cave, and flew towards the source of the commotion. What he saw took him far more by surprise than it should have. There was a dragon headed towards Ponyville. The dragon was a deep blue colour, and from the looks of things, he was slightly bigger than Spike was. But, Spike's jaws were slightly longer, and rather than having curved spines, the other dragon's looked like somepony had impaled him with a picket fence. The thought of confronting another dragon was a detail that Spike had neglected to think about when he was planning his transition into the guardian of Ponyville, but it was what he had to do. After all, no dragon would set foot in Ponyville, he had sworn it. Steeling his nerves, Spike took off after the dragon, using his well practiced aerial skills to intercept the misplaced flier above a clearing between the mountains. The dragon looked at Spike curiously for a moment before speaking. "Who are you?" he asked. From the sound of his voice, he couldn't have been much older than Spike, perhaps he was in his late hundreds? "I'm the guardian of this town, and I'll have to ask that you leave it alone," Spike replied, giving his best intimidating glare. The other dragon just looked confused. "You... You're the- Wait, what?" the dragon babbled, immune to Spike's obviously threatening gaze. A few moments passed before a smile finally grew across the dragon's snout, and he burst into laughter. "Oh! I get it now! Oh, wow, you had me goin' there for a second, buddy. Yeah, good one. Did Vizk put you up to this?" Spike was less than amused, because the dragon was now trying to move passed him. "What are you doing, friend?" "I'm not your friend, I'm the guardian of this town. Now turn around, go back to 'Vizk', and keep away from Ponyville." Spike's tone was far more dark than he had expected it to be, and the dragon seemed to notice. His smile vanished, and was replaced by a scowl. "Oh, well then, 'Guardian of Ponyville', what are you going to do if I say no?" The dragon inquired, prodding a claw at Spike's chest. Once again, Spike fought against his nerves and conjured a reply. "I'll stop you." "How do you intend to- Oh, hello... What's this?" The dragon's gaze had moved from Spike to the pendant wrapped around his wrist. "Now where did a pony-sympathising slug like you get this pretty little thing?... And how is the 'Guardian' going to stop me from taking it?" As the blue claw reached for Spike's most precious jewel, something clicked within the dragon, and he swiped his own claw out to stop the slightly larger dragon. The blue drake pulled his claw back and hissed, blood dripping from his now injured hand. "Leave this place, now!" Spike commanded, hoping that the scratch would at least prove that he wasn't without bite. The other dragon just growled, and the next thing Spike knew, he was being pushed towards the ground with extreme force; a pair of claws holding him by the shoulders. They weren't too high in the air, but the impact still hurt like nothing Spike had ever felt before. If it weren't for the toughness of his scales, he knew he wouldn't have survived it. The blue dragon raised his claw and brought it down with ferocity, but Spike managed to catch it with his own, and he quickly brought the arm down to his jaw and bit down. Bone broke under his jewel-crushing fangs, and the warm taste of blood filled Spike's mouth; he had never felt more sick in his life. To make matter's worse, he heard the dragon scream, but not from on top of him; the dragon had staggered away, and Spike had separated the claw from his arm with a single bite. Not wasting any time, Spike spat out the severed limb, and jumped to his feet, ready for the next bout; but the dragon wasn't there. A drop of blood landed on Spike's nose, and he knew that his opponent was flying away. Spike couldn't help but grin, his bloodstained teeth gleaming in the sunlight. He had defended Ponyville from a dragon! But there was something else that came to his attention. It was a single, simple four letter word: Vizk. The dragon had mentioned his friend, and there were probably more where they came from. If he returned to the roost, and he told them about Spike, they would come in a group, and he would- No; that couldn't happen. If Spike were to die, the dragons could take Ponyville, and Spike would have failed every last pony in the town, Celestia, and even the loved ones he had lost. Twilight hadn't raised him so he could allow innocent ponies to die. Spreading his wings, Spike once again claimed the skies, and sped towards the fleeing drake. Within a few moments, Spike was upon the one-handed dragon, and the moment they locked eyes, both knew the outcome. He tried to swing his remaining claw at Spike, but he had lost a lot of blood, and his precision was sloppy at best. The battling drakes were so caught up in their conflict, that they neglected to watch their path, and they soon found themselves impacting with, then tumbling down, the face of a mountain. Spike curled up into a ball, tucking his wings in to avoid any severe damage; but, from the sounds of things, the other dragon hadn't been so fast on his feet. When they finally stopped rolling, Spike had only a few bruises and scrapes to show for his journey. Slowly, but surely, the predator approached his quivering prey. Upon closer inspection, the blue drake hadn't fallen too badly, but he was certainly in worse shape than Spike was. When he saw the other dragon approaching, he sputtered out a few words. "Y-You don't have to d-do this..." he said, barely able to talk over his pain; blood still oozing out of his stump. "I'll g-go- A-Ah.. A-away..." Spike didn't slow his advance, soon standing over the doomed dragon. "P-Pu-Ple... P-Plea... Pleas-se..." "I warned you..." Spike replied, a devastating dread growing in the pit of his stomach. "I warned you!" He raised his claw up; it was shaking so much he feared he couldn't hold it there for long. "N-No, please!" The dragon cried, but his pleas fell upon deaf ears; Spike had no choice. He brought his claw down, intending to go straight for the heart, but he was shaking so much that he missed, instead slicing a gash into the other dragon's gut. The smell was foul, the feeling was even fouler, but the dragon's screams were the foulest of all. The second attempt once again failed, leaving the dragon screaming even louder as his innards were exposed to the air. "Please! K-Kill me!" Spike was panicking; he didn't know what to do. So, in a quick decision, he dragged his claws across the screaming dragon's throat. Blood poured out of him, leaving the blue drake gargling for air. He finally stopped twitching after a minute or so. Spike was left there, alone, staring at the body of a dragon he had been talking to not half an hour before, and now he was dead; brutally murdered at the claws of one of his own kind. Spike looked down at his claws; they were coated with blood. The fire ruby, which had been a symbol of love, generosity, and joy, was no dripping with the crimson residue that pumped through his very own veins. It was then that Spike realised the worst part of it all; he couldn't leave the body. No, ponies could never know of the dragon's existence, so he had to get rid of it. Thinking quickly, Spike found a soft patch of dirt and began clawing his way through the ground. Luckily, he had spent a long time digging up gems, so tunnelling through dirt was almost second nature to the drake. Within ten minutes, he had a hole large enough to contain the body, and he set to the task of dropping the still dripping corpse into its resting place. He was just about to fill the hole when another realisation hit him; the dragon was missing a claw. Spike quickly ran to retrieve the severed limb, and tossed it in to join the rest of its kin. Finally, the hole was covered over, and all that remained of the blue dragon was his blood stain on the clearing grass. No matter how hard Spike scrubbed himself with the cool water from the stream, he couldn't feel clean, and he couldn't even stand to see his own reflection. He was a murderer, a killer, and nothing could change that. I had to do it, he thought to himself, desperately attempting to find solace in mental justification. Who knows what he could've done to Ponyville? It was true; the dragon was going to Ponyville, and stopping him was the entire purpose of Spike's being there. He performed his duty, nothing more. More would come, and when they did, he would have to- No! He couldn't! Every life was precious, the taking of life was never justified. He could've solved it another way, and he would have to solve it another way the next time. Spike the Dragon would never take another life again. It was then that a glisten caught his eye; a sparkle in the sun. A beautiful pendant, laid out to dry. Though Spike could never make himself clean, a simple scrub had polished the fire ruby to a sheen. It was then that Spike saw her; a gorgeous mare with a flowing purple mane, laughing and dancing in the sunshine. Then came the dragon. A great, towering beast, with razor sharp fangs, a jaw larger than Spike's entire body, and eyes as red as blood. The dragon took the gorgeous mare with a flowing purple mane, and vanished into the night. The sun had gone down at that stage. Spike had been in the stream for hours. As Spike dried off by the fire he made, green flames crackling in his dreary cave, he retrieved his journal and filled in the 'Day Eighteen' entry with a single sentence. I will protect Ponyville, no matter the cost, even if it means I have to become something I hate. It was after reading this sentence that he concluded he needed another sentence to clarify it. It's for them, and I will not let them down. Spike didn't sleep that night. Between sudden vomiting from the shock his body was in, and the weeping from the shards of his conscience that remained, he couldn't find the will. Day Eighteen bled into Day Nineteen seamlessly, and his watch resumed. Shaking away the memories of days long passed, Spike landed in the clearing. With one hand holding the dripping corpse of the orange drake, the colossal reptile set to digging a grave with one hand. Seeing as his claw was rather large, it didn't take him long. The body was disposed of and covered up in a minute or so. With nothing more to say or do, Spike took to the sky once more, the sun still hanging high in the sky. There was still a day of watching to be done, and he couldn't afford to be distracted by the foolishness of a stubborn creature. So, he paid no mind to the dragon he just killed, and he paid no mind to the countless graves that surrounded him. Spike was going to protect Ponyville; he had sworn it. His claws were never clean, and his conscience was always heavy with his deeds, but the ponies of Ponyville could rest peacefully in their beds, blissfully unaware of the foul acts that had just been committed for their sakes. No mare, stallion, filly, or colt, would ever have to lie awake in fear, hoping that they'd have a chance to live another day. It was thoughts like these that allowed Spike to sleep at night, despite his inner conflict. Spike was a killer, Spike was a monster, and Spike was the Guardian of Ponyville. That night, the massive dragon slept just fine; with thoughts of Ponyville in his head, and a fire ruby held in his claw.