//------------------------------// // The Treasure // Story: The First Hearts and Hooves Day: A Legend of Spike Story // by DiabloGuapo //------------------------------// Thunder rumbled from outside as King Adamant and Prince Orichalum marched down the stairs to the dungeon, the sounds of the prisoner’s angry shouts coming from below them. Ever since the effects of the love poison had worn off, Prince Zephyr had been demanding for his release. The noise from outside the castle and the racket from within its walls only served to sour the Unicorn King’s mood. “Let me out of here!” Adamant heard his prisoner demand. The king entered the dungeon and saw two of his guards salute at his arrival. He ignored them and walked up to the bars of the cell, where he saw the white Pegasus struggling to break free from the chains that bind him. “I am a prince! You can’t treat me like this!” “Yes, I can,” Adamant coldly retorted. This gain the prince’s attention and he looked to the Unicorns that were glaring at him through the bars. As they were staring each other down, another thunderclap could be heard. “Ha! You hear that? That’s my army fighting to free me as we speak!” Zephyr boasted. “Once they break in, you’ll pay for this injustice!” “Not before you pay for poisoning my daughter,” Adamant growled, narrowing eyes at the prince. “I… I don’t know what you are talking about,” Zephyr stammered as he denied the acquisition. “Don’t play stupid,” Prince Orichalum ordered. “I take that back. You are stupid, so I suppose that can’t be help, but don’t you dare lie to us!” “How dare you!” an offended Zephyr shouted. “I’ll see that you’ll pay for that insult!” “You really must be an idiot. You don’t seem to realize that you’re in no position to make threats,” Orichalum shot back. “That’ll do, Prince Orichalum,” Adamant silenced his son and then levitated the empty bottle of tainted wine before him. “Recognize this? This the wine that you deceived my daughter into drinking.” “That doesn’t prove anything! It’s just a bottle of wine!” a sweating Prince Zephyr claimed. “It’s more than that and you know it.” Hoofsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and a guard approached the king. Adamant turned to him and said, “Speak.” “Your Majesty, the mages have prepared the tracking spell,” reported the guard. Adamant triumphantly smirked as he turned back to Prince Zephyr and told him, “It seems your plan has failed. We will soon track the Princess down and slay your dragon conspirator.” “Conspirator?” Zephyr said in confusion. “No! That dragon wasn’t part of the plan!” “So you admit there was a plan,” Adamant said, catching the Pegasus’s slip of tongue. Zephyr bit his lip in horror and said nothing else. “No matter. Princess Fiore Rossa will be rescued, the dragon will be slain, and you will pay for your crimes.” Adamant and Orichalum left the Pegasus Prince in his cell, swearing that he was innocent of all charges against him. As father and son ascended the stairs, another crash of thunder echoed. Orichalum asked his father, “How are we going to do this? If we send the soldiers to rescue Rose, we’ll leave the castle vulnerable to attack. I suggest that the soldiers create a diversion so that a small, elite team can sneak out unseen.” “My thoughts exactly,” Adamant agreed. “Assemble the knights and have them escort the mage that’ll track Rose. I want you to lead the team. I’ll remain here and deal with the Pegasi.” “Yes father.” “How did you and Rose up falling in love?” Spike asked. “Obviously it wasn’t love at first sight like it was for me when I first met Rarity.” “Ah, I remember that day. It was the day before the Summer Sun Celebration that Princess Luna returned from her banishment on the moon,” Rarity happily reminisced how Spike had arrived in Ponyville with Twilight Sparkle. It was the day that she and her friends were brought together by fate and forever bound together by destiny. Back then, her future husband was nothing but a chubby, wingless, baby dragon who was hopelessly head-over-heels in love with the fashionista. She then giggled and crooned, “Oh, you were such the cute little thing.” “I prefer ‘ruggedly handsome,’” her husband huffed. “There was… something… about… her…” Aurum explained. “An inner… light… that pierce through… my inner darkness… and softened… my heart…” Back at the cave, the dragon and the princess sat in silence. Periodically, he would look back down to the mare only to see that she hadn’t moved an inch, remaining in her huddled position with her legs tucked underneath her body. Convinced his “guest” wouldn’t try to run away, he allowed himself to relaxed and eased the tension in his limbs, assuming a more comfortable position by laying on his side but keeping his head raised just in case. Exhaling in contentment, he looked to the outside of his cave, viewing the misty, gray canyon that was his territory. As time passed, the dragon frowned contemplatively. He had kidnapped a princess, yet where were the knights that were supposed to rescue her? Where was the gold they would pay to have her returned? Perhaps she was right; maybe his plan wasn’t was well thought out as he originally believed. His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of someone softly sobbing. Looking to the princess, he saw her body shuddering as she wept, bitter tears running down her muzzle and dripping onto the cold, stone floor of the cave. The dragon disregarded this pathetic display with a smokey huff. What did it matter to him if she cried or not? As long as he got his money and she wasn’t yelling hysterically like she was before, he didn’t care. However, the sounds of her lamentation stirred something within him. There was an uncomfortable weight forming in the pit of his stomach and a pang struck his heart. None of these discomforts were physical, yet they seemed very real nonetheless. The dragon didn’t like this new emotion; it was confusing and it wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation, the dragon was compelled to say, “Do not weep. Your cries bother me.” “I’m sorry,” she sniffled an apology, and tried to hold back her tears. This only caused them to build up until they burst forth with a loud, uncontrollable sob. The princess buried her face in her hooves, and the dragon looked around for anything that could silence her mournful sounds. The only thing he could find was his treasure hoard. It made him happy, maybe it could make her happy as well. He pluck a fire ruby from the pile and presented it to her. “Do not cry,” he softly and unsurely told her, presenting the jewel to her in his claw. “Here, take a look at this.” She tentatively peeked over her hooves at the gem and sniffed back her tears. Wiping her eyes, she shakily said as she saw the particularly shiny, red jewel, “Oh. H-how pretty.” The jewel in question had a unique shape that resemble a sunburst, streaks of fiery orange radiating from the center of the circular ruby. The dragon inwardly grinned, recalling how he discovered, mined, and matured that individual gem. Dragons had an encyclopedic knowledge of their treasure and instinctively knew how they obtained each and every piece. They knew their hoard so well that could tell one was missing or out of place from a mere glance. “I call this one the ‘Rising Sun.’ I harvested it from a volcano early in the morning one day. Just as I finished removing the surrounding rock, the sun rose and the orange streaks caught the light, reflecting it in a dazzling display.” “It’s so pretty,” she said, a small smile gracing her lips. She then looked to where he had retrieved the fire ruby and asked, “May I have a look?” “Um, sure. I suppose,” he hesitantly condoned and then waved a claw, beckoning her to follow him as he arose and led her to the hoard. Walking over to the back of the cave, she looked at the small piles of treasure in front of him, admiring the sparkling assortment of coins, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. “That’s a lovely collection you have here.” He gave her a surprised look, for no one had ever paid him a compliment before. In fact, the only words he had ever heard nowadays were the death threats and vows of enmity from his rivals. Her words reminded him of the dragoness that had hatched him. She was gentle and nurturing, but he hadn’t seen her since the time came for him to leave the nest a few years ago. This act of kindness from one that was supposed to be his prisoner confounded him, and in his bewilderment, he muttered the words, “Thank you.” “Do you mind if I took a closer look?” she asked, pointing to the treasure. His greedy nature and hoarding instincts screamed at him to roast her for even daring to suggest such an idea, but couldn’t find himself able to harm her. Instead, he rose and stood by his fledgling hoard as the Unicorn approached. He watched her diligently, ready to react if she tried something, but she only smiled appreciatively as admired the gems as though as they were priceless pieces of art in a museum. “And what about this one?” Fiore Rossa asked, pointing a spiraled, cyan jewel. “That one I call ‘Whirlpool.’ It is an aquamarine that I found by the sea. Since the cave I found it in was over a maelstrom, I carved the stone in that shape as a memento of the occasion.” “You have such wonderful pieces here. Why must you kidnap me to get more? None of the gems we have are cut or carved in such a marvelous way,” she tried to reason. “Because I am a dragon. We want more. It is in our nature to desire treasure.” “But do you have to steal it? Wouldn’t a gem that you obtained yourself be worth more to you than one you took from somepony else?” she asked. “Look at any of these ones you have here, would you trade…” “Dragons do not trade. We take all that we can and give nothing back,” he boldly declared. “Okay, fair enough. How about this? Let’s say that a major catastrophe suddenly happened and you were forced to evacuate. You only have time to save one of two gems; one of them is a special gem that you found, polished, and shaped yourself and the other is a gem with a standard cut that you got from the ransom. Which one would you save?” The dragon pondered her hypothetical question and weighed each option carefully. The ransom payment would symbolize his might and victory over the ponies. However, the hypothetical gems would be ordinary and would be nowhere near the monetary worth of an expertly crafted piece of art that were the gems of his hoard, and the sentimental value of each was beyond measure to him. He clearly remembered the feeling of excitement he felt when he first uncovered the ruby and the anticipation he felt as he meticulous shaped the aquamarine. “I concede. I would save the gem that I found myself,” he answered honestly. “Wouldn’t having a treasure comprised completely of gems that you’ve earned yourself be worth greater than any other treasure in the world?” “But… It takes so much time!” he tried to counter. “It is easier to pillage and raid treasure that is already uncovered.” “Easier? What about all the fighting and destruction that is caused in the process? What about the lives of those you affect? Did you ever think how my father and brother must have felt when I was taken away from them?” she lectured. He could scarcely believe that a little pony such as she had the nerve to stand up to a dragon and could feel his inner fire start to rise within him. It was ridiculous! He was a wyrm, the apex predator! He took what he wished, when he wished, and none dared oppose him! A rabbit does not scold a wolf for being a wolf. Who was she to challenge his methods? This was the same mare who was crying like a foal mere minutes ago! Her words should mean nothing to him, yet why did they pierce him so? “That is what dragons do,” he repeated his previous justification, but his words had little strength behind them. “That may be what dragons do, but what do you want?” she questioned. “Why do you, not other dragons, but why do you want to hold me for ransom? Why is having a hoard so important to you?” “Because all dragons have hoards. They are the standard by which we compare ourselves. The larger the hoard, the more successful we are, and the more we are respected by our rivals,” he explained. “So all of this is to fuel your ego,” she said, almost unbelieving that centuries worth of legends of castles destroyed and cities razed were all due to a race’s need to pacify their insecurities. “Forgive me, but that sounds rather petty.” “That is the way of the wyrm. Do not judge me when your kind is also flawed,” he retorted defensively. The Unicorn mare backed away as he faced her and advanced as he continued. “I have seen the hypocrisy of ponies. You declare peace one day, yet go to war the next. You toil for your wages during day, yet you steal at night. You declare your love for one, yet fornicate with another. That is why dragons are solitary; you can never trust anyone.” As he finished his impassioned rant, he panted, agitated by sensitive topic. Fiore Rossa stood silent as she took in his words, astounded by his declarations. She wanted to counter his claim in the defense of her kind, but she knew his words contained some elements of truth. “You are right,” she gently admitted, catching him off guard by this statement. He had expected her to jump to the defense of her race’s challenged honor, not her agreeing with him. “Ponies are not perfect. No one race is. But you are only looking at the flaws. If that is all you’re looking for, that’s what you’ll only find. But if you truly looked, you would also see the great amount of good that us ponies are capable of. We may have our problems and there are those that lie, steal, and hurt others, but they don’t represent us as a whole. Look to the soldiers who loyally serve and protect our citizens. Look to the kindness and gentleness with which a parent raise their foals. Hear the laughter we share during the best of times to celebrate our accomplishments as well as the laughter we share during the hard times to give each other comfort. Look to the generosity that a community rushes to give when misfortune befalls somepony by. Look to the honesty and integrity that supports our laws and how my father rules in fairness. All of these virtues is what we ponies strive for, and that is something truly magical.” The gold dragon carefully regarded her words and reflected upon his own race. There was little trust amongst dragons, for each one envied the other’s wealth. They would gladly beguile and deceive to attained that which they desired. They jealously guarded their ill gotten gain and viciously and relentlessly pursued all that would threaten it. For every virtue that the ponies held dear, it seemed that dragons cherished its opposite. “I have a question for you,” Fiore Rossa asked him. “Are you happy?” “Am I happy?” he repeated, confused by the question. “Are you happy being all alone in this cave with a beautiful treasure that you can never share with anyone, never trusting anyone and not having anyone to talk to?” One cannot miss that which they never had, but the dragon once again was reminded by this pony of the dragoness that laid his egg. For those few years, he did experience those things which the mare told him that her kind enjoyed. His mother generously fed and sheltered him, loyally protected him from predators, kindly silenced all of his fears, raised his spirits when he was sad, and he could always trust her. But then the day came for her to drive him away from the nest and he suddenly lost all of those wonderful things. It wounded him to his core and left a void in his heart that he sought to fill with treasure. He wondered if all dragons hoarded treasure to mask the pain of loneliness. “I am… lonely,” he said ruefully confessed, and saw the red mare looking up at him with pity. Pity? She pitied him? She was his prisoner, and yet she acted like he was some fragile whelp. He didn’t need her sympathy! Pity was for the weak, and he was a dragon, the living embodiment of might! Despite of this, her words and her soft gaze had him at her mercy. Uncomfortable with this conversation, he turned away from his hostage and laid upon his treasure, coiling around it. He hoped it would give him comfort and a sense of security like it always did in the past, but now it only felt cold and uncaring. Fiore Rossa looked to the dragon atop of the treasure and then back to the entrance of the cave. If she wanted to, she could make a run for it and he wouldn’t even notice or care in this state. The thought was tempting, but seeing the miserable creature upon his bed of gems, she dismissed the idea. How could she on her own good conscious leave a crushed spirit when she had just spoken of the merits of kindness and mercy? The dragon had closed his eyes, but they shot open in surprise when he felt something soothingly stoke the top of his head. He rolled his green eyes upward to see the Unicorn gently offering him a smile while she petted his head. At first, he felt humiliated and wanted to roar at her to make her stop, but the soft brushes of her hoof against his scales felt so good and it eased the pain in his heart. “My name is Fiore Rossa, but please, call me Rose,” she introduced herself. He didn’t say anything, but allowed her to continue to stroke his scales. “What’s your name?” “I do not have one,” he told her. “Oh my,” she gasped. “Your mother didn’t give you a name?” “Dragoness do give their offspring simple names, usually a description of their appearance or behavior,” he explained. “Dragons earn their names later from their peers or from their victims by their victories and their reputation. The more fearsome we are, the more impressive the name we receive.” “You depend on your enemies to name you?” she asked, surprised by this fact. “It is a great honor to hear your enemies to cry out in terror and scream your name in despair. A great wyrm of old was named Trogdor the Burninator for he had completely burned down the first village he raided. He was feared by the ponies of that land and his fellow dragons respected his might. Another was named Vermithrax Pejorative. She demanded that a kingdom offer her a virgin sacrifice twice a year, so the king would hold a lottery and the maiden chosen would be fed to her.” “I don’t think that is a pleasant way to receive a name,” she told the dragon. “You are a pony. Of course you would not think so,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “I was named Fiore Rossa because my coat is red like the flower and my late mother loved roses,” Rose explained. “What was the name your mother gave you?” The dragon cut his eyes towards Rose from being asked such a odd question. A dragon’s “nest name” wouldn’t be impressive nor would it intimidate anyone, and was cast aside once the dragon received its “true name.” He then thought about his mother once more and the happiness he had in those days. “She called me Aurum, the Golden One.” “I think Aurum is a lovely name,” Rose complimented. “You should keep it.” “Perhaps I will,” he said pensively. The name was associated with a happy chapter of his life. Perhaps his old name could help him remember those better days. “Well, despite the circumstances, I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Aurum,” she told him. “I wished we had met in a different way. “I as well,” he returned the sentiment. He then thought of his plan to hold her for ransom and that uncomfortable feeling returned once again. He knew what he had to do to make it go away, but it would require him to swallow a lot of pride in order to do so. He gulped and then slowly started to say, “I… apologize.” “I’m sorry. What was that?” she asked, hardly believing what she had heard. “I apologize for kidnapping you,” he said a little louder, forcing a huge amount of ego down his throat. “You are no longer my prisoner.” “You’re not going to eat me?” she gently asked, seeing pass his defensiveness and spotting the vulnerability and uncertainty that laid within his heart. After waiting a few seconds, he finally whispered, “No. I… I cannot even dare to think of harming you. You are too… nice.” “Why, thank you,” she graciously accepted his compliment. “You are welcome.” He then coiled around his treasure tighter as he told her, “You are free to go.” Rose’s heart leaped within her chest at the return of her freedom. She would like nothing more to return home to her family, but I thought came to her. “How do I make it out of the valley?” she asked Aurum. “I’ll get lost in the mist.” She half expected him to say that he didn’t care, but he said instead, “I will return you to your castle.” He raised himself up and started to head to the entrance of the cave. She followed him, but then noticed that the gray haze coming from outside had darkened, indicating nightfall was quickly approaching. “It’s getting late,” she observed. “So?” “Maybe we should wait until morning,” she suggested. “And this way, we can talk longer.” “As you wish,” he shrugged as he returned to his pile of treasure. As he settled down onto his expensive bed, Rose walked up and laid down beside him, smiling pleasantly up at him. Aurum snorted in mild amusement at the bizarre turn of events. How did the pony that he planned on ransoming and then eating become the first friend he ever had?