Dovahkiin

by Silent_Witness

Epilogue: The Shape of Things to Come

Epilogue: The Shape of Things to Come

The first thing he became aware of was the pain.

A dull ache pulsed through his side as he opened his eyes. He could see he was lying in a crater, freshly formed by his impact with the ground. He lifted his head, and a pain in his back stabbed at him, reminding him of how he had fallen in the first place. He looked about, soon spotting another dovah, much smaller and weaker than himself lying nearby- the Dovahkiin. “Sahlo…” he mumbled as he looked down at his foe. “Your cowardly tactics reveal your true weakness, Dovahkiin.” His head reared back, as though ready to strike. “You are unfit to call yourself dovah.”

“Spike, no!” Suddenly, he felt an object wrap around his throat. He brought up his wings, but the bond would not come undone no matter how hard he pulled. Suddenly, there was a mighty tug, and he was thrown into the air, before whatever had taken hold of him slammed him back onto the ground, outside of the crater.

He quickly righted himself, but he was immediately knocked off balance by an invisible blow to his side. “Alduin!” the key’s small voice shouted. Its horn flashed, and the black dragon was struck by another invisible blow, and another, and then another. “You! Will! Not! Hurt! My brother!” With every word, the key’s horn flashed, and he reeled from an invisible blow. “I won’t allow it!” Its horn flashed again- this time, he could see the faint image of a translucent hoof before it struck him across the face.

He head whipped back from the force of the blow, and he staggered back. His ears rang, and bright spots danced before his eyes. He could feel something resting on his tongue- no doubt a tooth knocked loose by the blow. Slowly, he looked down at the key, before spitting the tooth out- it skittered and bounced across the ground, before coming to a rest by its hoof. “I do not recall asking your permission.”

The key’s horn flashed, and a column of earth shot out of the ground, striking the bottom of his jaw. The world was turned into a blur of purples and greens and greys- before he could recover, an invisible force took hold of him, before slamming him into the ground headfirst. He staggered to his feet, forcing his lungs to draw in breath. “YOL!” At his command, a plume of fire erupted from his throat… but the key simply strode toward him through his fire undaunted, protected behind a magic shield.

“I’m not just some mortal you can bully into submission, Alduin,” the key spat. “I am Twilight Sparkle, student of Princess Celestia, wielder of the Element of Magic, granted the power of the Voice by Spike the Dragonborn.” The key’s horn flashed, and his head whipped back from yet another invisible strike. “Remember that.”

His vision went completely black He stumbled… but he did not fall. “Who you are is irrelevant, joor.” He stood on his feet, and looked down at the key. “It matters not who you know, nor the powers you wield, nor how many titles you attach to your name. You are still only a mortal. You are food- nothing more.”

“Then let me put this in words that even you will understand. QO!”

There was a thunderclap. An involuntary roar ripped from his lungs as electricity surged through his body, forcing all of his muscles to contract erratically. He fell forward, still twitching uncontrollably, the scent of charred scales reaching his nostrils. The key approached him, looking down at him, as though it were the superior one. “Hon zu, Alduin. Zu’u Twilight Sparkle, ahrk zu’u faal joor wo fen krii hin, fah ahraan zuii zeymah.”

Hear me, Alduin. I am Twilight Sparkle, and I am the mortal who will kill you, for hurting my brother.

A fire ignited in his chest. He would not allow anyone to speak down to him, especially not a fragile, pathetic joor like this key. He would punish it for its insolence. He lunged forward, jaws wide, but the key escaped death with a flap of its wings. “NAHLOT!” he screamed. “No longer shall I devour your souls! Instead I will bind them to my own, and inflict upon you a never-ending hell of suffering and pain!”

The key’s horn glowed brightly- its magic began to coalesce, taking the form of a great hammer. The hammer swung through the air, and he felt his ribs buckle as the hammer struck his side. He tumbled across the ground, before coming to a merciful rest. “Why don’t you stop talking about what you’re going to do, and just do it?”

He had no more words for the key. Instead, he felt a burst of flames surge across his body, and he leapt at the key, a roar of pure, unbound rage ripping from his throat. The key jumped out of the way, only just avoiding being impaled on his teeth. He immediately lunged at it again, and again, the key only just avoided being crushed between his massive jaws. It stumbled back again and again, having no time to conjure any sort of defense in-between his strikes. Deafening, furious roars filled the air- it took a moment for him to realize that they were his own. And it took several more moments for him to realize he was shouting something in-between the roars- a single command, repeated over and over again: “DIR!”

Die.

The key continued to evade him, but its movements became more sluggish with each strike- it would only be a matter of time before it slipped up, and met a painful death by his teeth.

But then the key did something, something he had not anticipated: it Shouted.

“TIID!”

The key moved to the side faster than he could blink. It stood still for a moment, as though to catch its breath, before moving past him. He tracked her movement, before he began to turn away. The key was moving more slowly than he had expected, no doubt under the foolish belief that it could simply walk away before the Thu’um’s effect wore off- if he timed his movements right, he could catch it. He brought his tail back, before whipping it towards the key.

The small shock and the cry of pain told him that he had hit his mark. Without delay, he turned around to face his quarry.

The blow had knocked the key off of its hooves. Before it could rise, he placed his wing over her chest, pinning her to the ground. Its horn began to glow, and he felt an invisible force push against his wing, but he did not yield, no matter how hard it pushed against him.

The key’s horn began to glow, and he felt the world distort as it prepared to teleport out of his grip- he lifted his wing slightly, only to bring it down again in full force. The key released a satisfying cry of pain as her ribs splintered beneath his blow.

He glared down at the key, bringing his face close to its own. The arrogance it had displayed was nowhere to be found- now, he could only see fear and pain etched into her eyes. He Shouted down at her in his tongue- the world trembled, not from his power of his Words, but seemingly from the sheer force of the hatred behind them.

“DIE AND BE FORGOTTEN! DIE AND FEED MY POWER! BUT ABOVE ALL ELSE… Just. Die.”

He breathed deep, drawing the key into himself, feeling his wounds mend and his strength grow. He could feel her fight against the pull, against the inevitable. They always fought.

They always lost.

He felt the key’s resistance weaken. In just a few more moments, she would be no more, and he would be that much stronger.

“Twilight!” another voice called.

He tore his eyes from the suffering key and looked to the crater, the voice’s source, unprepared for the sight awaiting him.

The Dovahkiin was gone. In his place stood a void, a hole in the world in the shape of a massive dragon. This dragon was blacker than the void of space, and seemed to draw all surrounding light into itself. Only one feature was visible, one distinguishing mark emerged from that horrible blackness- its eyes, shining in the brightest, most furious shade of red imaginable, burning with an emotion that he was intimately familiar with.

Hate.

The black dragon braced itself, and Shouted, its words seeming to split the very air itself.

“WULD… NA KEST!”

There was a clap of thunder. The dragon darted past, almost too quickly for the eye to see. Almost. He began to turn around, to face his new opponent. But as he turned, he saw a spray of red mist, so faint as to be almost invisible, rise from his right shoulder. He looked, just in time to watch his right wing detach from his body, and drop to the ground.

A roar left his throat. But it was not a roar of pain- at least, not entirely. He was not unfamiliar with the sensation of pain. But this dragon- no, this… beast- it had cleaved through scales and flesh and bone in an instant, with ease, as though he’d merely sliced through the air. As he brought up his remaining wing to shield his wound, he felt something, an emotion he had not felt in a great deal of time, not since the voice that had guided him to this point first spoke to him.

Surprise.

The key forgotten, he turned to face the beast, nearly falling on his face when he attempted to support himself with a now nonexistent wing. But barely a moment had passed before the air was once again split by the thunder of the beast’s Voice.

“WULD… NA KEST!” The beast raced past him again, leaving a gouge that cut deep into his scales. “WULD!” The beast raced by a third time, leaving another gash that erupted into a fountain of blood. “WULD! WULD! WULD WULD WULD WULD WULD WULD!” The beast darted past him over and over again, slicing deep gashes into his scales. Massive bursts of fire left his throat as he attempted to immolate his attacker, but it was useless- the beast simply moved to quickly for his eye to follow. And with each cut, a new emotion set in, one he’d thought long forgotten.

Fear.

He stood and reared back, preparing to let loose another stream of flame. But at that moment, a blade raked across his throat- air and blood rushed into his lungs through the fresh hole. At once, his body sputtered involuntarily as it attempted to clear the unexpected obstruction, and he pressed his one wing against his throat, but it did nothing to stem the flow of blood. His feet caught on some unseen object, and he fell back, feeling the blood pool in his throat.

Suddenly, the beast appeared before him. It glared down at him, its eyes burning through that horrible blackness. His heart filled with an alien sensation. He identified it- it was an emotion he had instilled in others countless times, but until now, had never experienced it for himself.

Terror.

Terror stemming from a horrifying, inescapable realization.

He was going to die.

“Dovahkiin… n-no…” He spat up blood, dragging himself away from the black dragon. “M-Mercy, please, I beg you!” It was unfitting for a dovah to flee from battle, to beg for any reason. But at that moment, so blinded by terror was he that such nuances held no meaning to him.

“Mercy?” The hateful beast approached. His eyes blazed like fire, his words thunder. “After everything you’ve done… after everyone you’ve killed… do you really think, that for even one second I would show you any mercy!?” The dragon raised its claw high… and plunged it into his throat.

Fire pulsed through his veins. A roar of pain ripped through his throat. He flailed, feeling his one wing strike the beast and knock it back. His mind was filled with a single overpowering command- stand.

Stand and fight.

Every muscle burned, every fiber screamed in protest against his action, but in the end, they obeyed, and he righted himself. His breaths were ragged, and his body pulsed with pain.

But he was not afraid.

Yes, pain was good. As long as he could still feel pain, all was not lost.

Through his darkening vision, he saw the beast standing before him, but it had changed- no longer was its body an impenetrable black void, but rather it rippled and billowed, as though made of smoke. That could mean only one thing.

The beast was vulnerable.

It took every ounce of effort his body had to offer, but he threw his wing out before him, and pulled himself forward. His feet dug into the ground, pushing him further- he would take every inch he could. Air rushed into his lungs, leaving in the form of whispered Words of Power, calling upon the flames that had smote a thousand of his enemies.

But the flames died in his throat, drowned by his own blood, and emerged only as faint sparks. And no matter how far he dragged himself, the beast never seemed to grow any closer.

His fury mounted. He would not- no, he refused to give in before exacting the vengeance that was rightfully his. He would die here- he had accepted that. But he would not become one with the All-Father alone. So long as he ended the beast’s life before passing, he would be at peace.

Only one option remained.

His body shuddered as he summoned all the remaining strength his broken body had to offer. His muscles tightened, burning as they sought to unleash the energy contained within. He glared at the beast for a moment- it glared at him in turn, dark and unknowable.

He leapt forward. His feet left the ground. He opened his jaws wide, letting out one last roar.

His teeth met only air.

The last of his strength had been spent in his final, unsuccessful attack.

He fell to the ground- he willed himself to rise, to move forward, but his muscles would not obey. The darkness at the edge of his vision had grown, leaving him only a pinhole through which to view the outside world, but even then, he could still see the beast glaring down at him with those hateful red eyes. The world grew silent, and he could hear nothing, not even his breaths, nor the beating of his heart.

Though his body was still, his mind raged.

His eyes, his ears, his Voice, his own body had betrayed him.

He couldn’t even roar in fury at his failure.

All he could do was lie on the ground… and die.

---

Spike jolted, his leg kicking out. He sat up, breathing hard, mind racing with jumbled memories, none of which were his own. Spike focused, trying to remember the mantra Twilight had taught him, before reciting it aloud:

“My name is Spike. I am a dragon. I was born in Canterlot. I live in Ponyville with my sister, Twilight Sparkle. And I am the Dragonborn.”

With each recitation, the flurry of foreign memories that filled Spike’s head receded, until the only his own remained. With his mind clear, he remembered that he was back in the Canterlot palace- in his and Twilight’s old room.

He let out a breath, resting his claw against his forehead. He remembered what Celestia had said- that after absorbing another dragon’s soul, he gained access to all of their knowledge… and their memories. But something Celestia hadn’t told him was that he didn’t gain access just to Alduin’s memories, but the memories of all the souls Alduin had devoured. Only two days had passed since he and Twilight returned from the World Beyond, since Alduin had been slain, but already he dreaded the memories sleep brought with them. Memories of fire, of blood and death. Memories of a dragon, as black as night, descending from the skies to speak death with every word.

Spike looked out the window- the position of the sun told him it was still early in the afternoon. They must have still been setting up for the Gala. He hopped out of his bed- his body, still sore from his battle with Alduin, pulsed with pain from the sudden motion, but it was nothing he couldn’t live with. The work would help take his mind off his dreams.

He stretched, in an attempt to relieve the pain, before leaving his and Twilight’s shared room. No sooner had he shut the door and turned around that he ran into the lavender alicorn herself.

She looked surprised, as if she hadn’t him to be up and about. “Spike? I thought you’d still be asleep.”

His response was blunt. “I woke up.”

“Where are you going?”

“To help set things up for the Gala. I promised the Princess I would.” He moved past her.

A hoof rested on his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that, Spike. After everything you’ve done, you deserve a rest.”

He looked back at her. “You were there with me. So why aren’t you resting, too?”

She hesitated for a brief moment before replying, “…I had something I needed to take care of.”

He pulled away from her grip. “So do I.” And with that, he strode away.

He didn’t mean to be short with Twilight. She didn’t know, after all. How could she have known? He was the one who had devoured Alduin’s soul, the one who had gained all these memories, not her. And of course, he hadn’t told her about them yet. If he did, she would worry.

And he’d had quite enough of ponies worrying about him.

With the so-called “Aduin Crisis” resolved, the Princess had ordered the Grand Galloping Gala to resume as scheduled. The repairs to the palace hadn’t been finished quite yet, but after a delay of nearly two weeks, Celestia was eager to resume the festivities, to cap off the successful resolution of the crisis.

The palace corridors were nearly empty at first, but rapidly began to fill up as he approached the main hall- servants and guards were setting up decorations, ferrying construction materials out of the main hall, and food and decorations in. Spike pushed his way through the throngs, until he reached his destination- a pair of golden doors that separated the main hall from the palace’s western wing. It was nowhere near as tall as the main hall’s main doors, but five ponies could stand on top of one another and still not reach the top. The doors were open wide, to allow as many ponies as possible to pass through.

The grand hall was, if anything, even busier than the surrounding corridors. So many pegasi filled the air that the ceiling was almost completely obscured. Dozens of objects and decorations floated through the air, guided by unicorn magics. The floor was just as crowded, as dozens upon dozens of ponies tried to push past one another to reach their destinations. And at the center of it all was a white stallion, barking orders to servant and soldier alike.

Spike again pushed his way through the crowd before reaching the stallion. “Hey, bro.”

Like Twilight, Shining Armor seemed surprised to see him. “Spike? What’re you doing here?”

“Yesterday, I told the Princess that I wanted to help you guys get ready for the Gala. Is there anything that still needs to be done?”

“Well… we still need to break down that scaffold over there.” He pointed toward the massive window Alduin had crashed through on the night of his return- about half was still covered with tape and plastic and wooden boards, where the construction workers weren’t able to finish repairs. Sure enough, a scaffold had been hastily erected in front of it. “Think you can handle it?”

“Not a problem.” Without another word, Spike bounded up the steps to the window, scurried up the scaffold, and set to work disassembling it. The work was mind-numbing and repetitive, but that suited him just fine.

But as he worked, his mind began to wander. But they wandered not to the nightmares that plagued him, but into the memories of the black dragon he had slain, memories that were now his own. There were, of course, memories of death and fire, but there was something else, something from… before. Memories of endless, gnawing hunger. Of being forced to submit to unimaginable torment, and wishing for death if it meant release from his tormentors. Memories of sinking into the deepest, darkest despair imaginable.

Memories of a voice that spoke to him from that darkness, promising to give him everything he could have ever wanted, and more.

Memories from before the birth of the dragon named “Alduin.”

---

Normally, a fresh battleground was a veritable goldmine in supplies abandoned by fleeing armies, especially food. But these soldiers, the soldiers of the nation called “the Soyuz,” had been thorough, destroying anything that might provide the Equestrians with an advantage in their retreat. What the soldiers hadn’t taken with them had long since spoiled, or had been burned to ashes.

The soldiers had departed several hours earlier, but he had chosen to wait until nightfall, stealing away to the Soyuz campsite under the cover of darkness. But it seemed his caution had been all for naught, for seemingly nothing of use had been left behind- if anything of value were here, then surely there would be other scavengers, picking through the remains alongside him.

What did it matter, whether or not he found anything? If he didn’t, he’d spend yet another night hungry. And if he did, Viinturuth and the others would simply take what he found, leaving him with a mere scrap if he was lucky, or with nothing if he wasn’t.

More often than not, he was the latter.

He slumped against the ground. He thought, as he often did, about running away. About fleeing to some obscure corner of the world where Viinturuth and the rest of his dragonflight would never be able to follow. But did such a place even exist? He’d run before, but no matter where he ran, no matter how long… they always seemed to be able to find him.

He brought up a wing, looking at the sharp talon at its bend- if he were to rake it across his throat at that very moment, he would die in less than a minute. Such thoughts tempted him often; it seemed that only death would free him from the others’ grip…

Or would it? Would death free him, or would the others simply find a way to force him back into their service from beyond the grave.

It was at that moment that a voice spoke to him.

Look at yourself, it said. Your kind once ruled this world. Now you skulk in the dark, digging through refuse to stave off death for just a while longer.

He shot to his feet and whirled around- the voice seemed to come from every direction at once. “Who said that!?”

I did.

He focused, but he could not determine the direction of the voice. “Where are you? Show yourself!”

I am all around you. I am within you. I am you.

He growled furiously. “Enough! Who are you, really!?”

I am someone who has been watching you for a very long time… Kahvozein. I have borne witness to your struggles. I have heard depths of your rage and your despair. And I have decided that you are the one to whom I shall grant my blessing.

Kahvozein narrowed his eyes at the darkness surrounding him. “Blessing? What sort of blessing?”

Of all the world’s resources, which is the most important? Gold? Food? No. The greatest resource of all… is power. So long as one has power, all else shall follow. But power is a difficult resource to gather, and those who have power are often ill-prepared to share it with others.

Kahvozein narrowed his eyes further. “…Is there a point you're trying to make?”

I see that you are still not convinced. So, I give to you a gift. A small taste of the power that only I can provide for you.

Kahvozein doubled over as a hot lance stabbed into his brain. His mind burned as Words of Power were seared into his mind, Words that he had never known before. Three words in sequence… a Thu’um.

With these Words, even mountains will bow down to you. Go. Use them as you wish. And when you are satisfied… I shall be waiting.

The voice grew silent. Kahvozein listened, but heard nothing else. He looked around at the blasted field surrounding him, but he was utterly alone. His eyes soon fell on a large stone, presumably unearthed by the recent battle, as the voice’s words echoed in his minds.

Even mountains would bow to him…

It was no mountain, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to try it. Making certain to keep his voice low, he Spoke the Words the voice had taught him.

The stone briefly flashed with a golden glow, and twitched several times, before it began to roll towards him, stopping when it reached his wing.

The trip back to the camp was the short one.

Even before landing, Kahvozein could see the rest of the dragonflight were still lying about, just as they had been when he’d left that morning. With only himself providing for all of them, it was a wonder none had died yet.

“Kahvozein,” one of them said. This one rested on a large mound of earth, above the others.

Viinturuth. The “leader” of the dragonflight.

He looked down at Kahvozein. “You’re back.” He narrowed his eyes. “Where’s the food?”

Kahvozein answered truthfully, “I didn’t find any.”

Viinturuth rolled over, his back facing towards Kahvozein. “What a shame. You better go back out and find me some, then.”

Kahvozein almost turned. He almost obeyed. Almost. Before standing straight, and looking up at the dragon. “No.”

Viinturuth lifted himself up and looked back. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. No. If you want food, you go out and find it for yourself.”

“Excuse me?” He leapt down from his mound and approached Kahvozein, drawing himself up to his full height. “You seem to have forgotten how our arrangement works. So let me remind you: I am in charge. And you obey me. I tell you to do something; you do it. When I tell you to jump, you jump. And when I tell you to find me some food, you find some, or else I rip your throat out, and I eat you. Understand?”

Kahvozein drew himself up as well. “Well, I think it’s about time we had a change in leadership.”

Viinturuth brought his face very close to his. “Is that a challenge, Kahvozein?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. Viinturuth, I challenge you to tinvaak.”

A murmuring arose among the other dragons- even among those who held fast to the Old Ways, tinvaak- a formal style of dueling bogged down by a tangled weave of strict rules and guidelines- had been all but abandoned. It was likely that Kahvozein’s challenge of tinvaak was the first issued in centuries. But, be it through story or practice, all dovah knew the rules of tinvaak.

And Kahvozein wanted to make a statement.

“Very well. Zu gehtik- I accept your challenge.” Viinturuth walked past him, turning when he reached the designated starting position. “Normally, the rules of tinvaak state that the challenged- in this case, me- would open the duel. But seeing that I’m in a generous mood…” Viinturuth held out a front claw to Kahvozein. “…I will let you have the first strike.”

Arrogant until the end. Exactly as he’d hoped. Kahvozein inhaled deeply, before unleashing his new Words on his tormentor.

“GOL… HAH… DOV!”

A golden wave emerged from his throat and washed over Viinturuth. He staggered back, before looking down at himself. “What- what sort of Thu’um have-”

He stopped suddenly. His slit-pupils widened into great black circles, and his mouth froze mid-sentence. Viinturuth stood utterly still, not even breathing- or, if he was, breathing so slowly it was imperceptible.

For several moments, no one spoke. Until Kahvozein asked, “Can you hear me, Viinturuth?”

Viinturuth's attention snapped towards him. “I hear and obey.”

Kahvozein was surprised. So surprised in fact, that it took him a moment to formulate his next words. But then, he said, “…Listen to me. You will turn control of this dragonflight over to me. You- and every other dragon here- will do everything I tell you to. Do you understand?”

Viinturuth nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“Excellent.” Kahvozein stepped toward his former leader. “Now, ever since I joined this dragonflight, you’ve made me suffer for your own amusement, have you not?”

Viinturuth nodded again. “I have.”

“Well, now that I’m in charge, you will suffer just as I have suffered.” Kahvozein gave Viinturuth a hard glare. “You are going to kill yourself, right here and now, using the most painful method you can imagine.”

Another murmuring arose among the others. But Viinturuth again nodded, his expression still vacant. “As you wish.” The dragon then raised up his claw, and without any hesitation, drove his talons into his own throat. He sputtered and choked as blood poured from his wound, but he did not stop. Viinturuth sank to his knees, the blood falling from his throat like a waterfall, but still, he didn’t stop tearing at his own throat until he collapsed. But even as his flesh burned away, his claws continued to move, still carrying out the order Kahvozein had given them.

Kahvozein could only stare in stunned silence. Viinturuth, his tormentor for so many years, was dead. He had seen the deed with his own eyes and still, he couldn’t believe it. But then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before setting his face into a hard glare. He was the one who was in charge now. He had to act like it.

Kahvozein turned to the other dragons. “Does anyone else have a problem with my leadership?”

His eyes swept over the others. He looked- no, he hoped for any signs of defiance, for another opportunity to demonstrate the power he now held over them.

Much to his disappointment, there were none.

But he ensured his expression remained level. “I thought so.”

Kahvozein looked back at the body lying before him, now merely a skeleton laying in a pool of drying blood. With but three words, he had forced his tormentor to submit to him, and to take his own life.

…So, this is what it was. To have power. For another being to live and die on his whims alone. A strange sensation crept into his chest, one he hadn’t felt in a long while. He felt… it felt…

Good.

“…I like it,” he said aloud.

As I knew you would, the voice replied. But this is only the beginning. I can give you so much more.

Kahvozein smiled. “I can hardly wait.”

But first, one small thing. From this time forward, your life, as it has been, is over. The dovah named Kahvozein is no more. I bestow upon you now a new name, one more befitting for the wielder of my power. From this time forward, you shall be known by my name.
Alduin.

---

“Spike!”

Celestia’s shout snapped Spike out of Alduin’s memories. He crawled to the edge of the scaffold and looked down to the alicorn who had called him. “Princess.”

“I apologize if I startled you, but I really must speak with you.”

He loosened another bolt and pulled it free. “Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid not, Spike.”

Spike sighed, before hopping down from the top of the balcony. Once he reached the floor, Celestia said, “Come with me, please,” and began to descend the stairs. Spike followed.

Spike didn’t need to push past anypony as he followed the Princess- the crowd parted on its own as the Princess approached. They passed through the doors that led to the palace’s eastern wing, and wound through the seemingly endless corridors, until they stopped in front of a large, heavy wooden door. Spike recognized it- it was the door that led to the forge. Without knocking, Celestia opened the door with her magic- Spike followed, and shuddered at what he saw within.

Spike remembered the night when he returned to Canterlot after killing Alduin. The Princess had teleported them to the palace, but as they made their way to the infirmary, the guards, and even his friends gave him odd looks. He couldn’t figure out why until he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror- he was covered in so much blood that his scales, his armor was completely covered in it. He barely even recognized himself. In disgust, he tore off his armor and ran away before anyone could stop him. He spent the rest of the night locked in the bathroom, scrubbing off the blood so hard he tore out half of his scales.

He hadn’t thought about his armor since then. He didn’t want to think about it, or Alduin, or anything that had happened over the last two days just yet. But there, in the forge, adorning a small mannequin… was his armor.

It was still covered in a thick film of dried blood.

“I understand that you might be hesitant to wear it again so soon,” Celestia began, “but the armor has become… a very powerful emblem since Alduin’s defeat. The citizens of Equestria will be expecting to see you wear it.”

Spike did not respond. He merely glared at the armor.

“Please, Spike. It will only be for a few hours. And you only need to put it on just before the Gala begins.”

It took several moments before Spike was willing to reply, “…Fine.” He then approached the mannequin, and began to strip off the armor.

“You’ll be making your entrance at ten, through the main doors. I would recommend you exit the palace through the east wing…” Spike only half-listened to Celestia as he gathered up the armor pieces, noting that another gauntlet had been made to replace the one he had lost. The entire set carried the scent of blood- it wasn’t overwhelming, but it was enough to make feel nauseated.

After a minute, the last strap came undone, and Spike began to carry his armor to the door, when the Princess called to him.

“Spike?”

He stopped, and looked back at the Princess.

She… hesitated. “I realize that this comes rather late, but… you have done an immeasurable… I cannot express the…the service you have provided is… thank you. For all that you’ve done.”

Spike adjusted his load before replying, “It wasn’t any trouble.” He turned, and concentrated- the wooden door flew open, and Spike stepped out of the forge.
But as he walked down the hall back to his and Twilight’s room, he muttered, “… but I didn’t do it alone, you know.”

---

Night fell over Canterlot. It seemed to come much sooner than Spike would have liked- he had spent the rest of the day in and Twilight's room, painstakingly scrubbing the blood from his armor. He was just about to start on his helmet when a knock came to the door.

He sighed and set the helmet aside. “Just give me a minute.”

Spike began to put on the armor, one piece at a time. First was the cuirass- his fingers flew across the straps and clasps, securing them all with little difficulty. Next came the gauntlets- lifting his arms was no longer a struggle. And last was the helmet- the tip of the left horn had broken off, and it was coated in dents and scratches.

The armor didn’t seem as heavy as when he’d first put it on. Putting it on, wearing it, seemed… natural.

And that deeply worried Spike.

But his feelings were interrupted when a second knock came, much firmer than the first. “Alright, just hang on!” he said as he approached the door, exasperated. He pulled the door open, but much to his surprise, it was not Celestia outside of his door, but Luna. “Luna?” he asked. “Where’s Celestia?”

“She is in the grand hall, welcoming guests. Now come.” She turned and strode down the hall- Spike caught up to her with ease. “You will not be carrying any weapons this time, Spike,” Luna added. “As a security precaution. I am certain you understand.”

“Of course.” Between his magic and the Thu’um, not having a sword meant little. Spike considered it a small miracle he was still allowed to attend the Gala at all. The two walked down the hall- Spike was very familiar with their route, as it was the same one that led to the sparring hall. But rather than entering, the two passed by the heavy oak door, and proceeded to the double doors at the hall’s end.

“I am afraid we must part ways here,” Luna said. “I trust you know the way to the courtyard?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Spike replied, before stepping through the doorway. Outside some distance away was a large building- the guard barracks- separated from the rest of the palace by a large open field- the Royal Guard’s training grounds. He had seen it numerous times from various vantage points around the palace, but this was the first time he could recall ever setting foot in it. But there was no time to marvel- Spike had somewhere he needed to be. Thus, he began the long, silent walk around the palace’s eastern wing, to the front courtyard.

As he walked, Spike wondered if news of his actions had spread. He hadn’t been out of the palace for the last two days, so he didn’t know how much the rest of Canterlot, how much the rest of Equestria knew about his battle. Twilight knew without a doubt, Celestia knew (and so did Luna, presumably), the rest of their friends knew, and most of the palace staff seemed to know, judging from their reactions. But what of the public at large? As the palace drawbridge came into view, Spike supposed he was about to find out firsthand.

The palace courtyard was normally bustling with activity, even at night, and especially on the night of the Grand Galloping Gala, but at the moment, it was eerily deserted. It seemed Celestia didn’t want anyone spoiling her guest of honor’s grand entrance. The great golden doors that opened into the main hall were shut tight. Spike brought his ear to the door- he could hear the muffled but melodious voice of Princess Celestia, as she apparently addressed the crowd. He looked back for a moment, noting the time on a clock tower visible through the palace gate, rising over Canterlot proper- only two minutes remained. He listened a little longer- the palace shook for a brief moment, and he distinctly heard the word “Dovahkiin.” No doubt the Princess was telling the prophecy to the crowd.

Then, the sound of a clock chiming met his ears. One, two three… until finally, the tenth chime sounded. Spike stepped back from the doors, and waited. Several moments passed, but nothing happened. It seemed that he would have to invite himself in. He held up a claw and focused- he moved his claw forward, and the doors responded in kind, slowly creaking open.

Being a dragon, Spike naturally drew stares no matter where he went. But there had never been this many before, and never before had those stares been so intense as that moment when he entered the main hall. He could see fear in the eyes of some, of course- that was no surprise. And neither was the hatred he saw in the eyes of others- he’d long since accepted that no matter what he did, there would always be ponies who would never accept him.

Spike turned his gaze away from the crowd, toward the far end of the hall- there, standing upon the landing of the grand staircase, was Celestia, just as she had been on that day almost two weeks ago. “Speaking of which… May I introduce this year’s guest of honor, the slayer of Alduin himself… Spike, the Dovahkiin.”

Several moments passed, before someone began drumming their hooves on the floor in applause. Others followed suit, and soon, the hall was filled with the thunderous sound of applause.

In all honesty, Spike would have preferred the silence.

But suddenly, the drumming ceased, replaced by terrified cries as the crowd began to retreat. For a moment, Spike thought they were running from him, until the ground beneath his feet shook, making him stagger. Without hesitation, he whirled around, reaching for a sword he didn’t possess, to find himself facing… Yolvahdin.

The elder red dragon looked absolutely exhausted. Much of her body was wrapped in thick bandages, no doubt provided by Celestia during her last visit. The left side of her face was turned slightly forward, almost certainly in an attempt to mitigate the blind spot caused by her missing eye, but also seemingly as an attempt to hide her scarred face.

Immediately, a team of guards charged forward and formed a half-circle in front of Yolvahdin, separating her from the crowd. She looked down at them, unamused.

“You are quite bold to threaten a dovah. Even in my weakened state, your blades could harm me no more than could a blade of grass.”

“Hold.” At once, the line of guards lowered their weapons, but did not break formation, save to allow Princess Celestia to pass between them. She stopped in front of the red dragon, as she looked up at her, she said, “You should be resting.”

“Nii los nid praan fah aan kinbok. Orin fah gein voth nid aarre.” There is no rest for a leader. Even for one with no followers.

“No, I suppose there isn’t. But that doesn’t explain why you’ve come here.”

“The Dragonborn has returned, and the Nameless One lies dead. All that has been said in the prophecy has come to pass. I would hope that you above all others would understand what this meant.”

“Yes, of course, but… now? Can’t it wait until you’ve healed?”

“It cannot.” Yolvahdin paused for a moment. “I understand your strunmah was damaged when the Nameless One made his return to the world known. Will it hold as perform the rite?”

With a wave of her hoof, the guards parted, allowing the Princess and the dragon passage. “Of course it will. Do you still remember the Words?”

“I do.”

“Would you have me Speak with you?”

“No. Only we were to speak the Words, when the time was right. Though I am the only survivor, this has not changed.”

“Very well. I’ll leave it to you, then.” Celestia stepped back, leaving the Yolvahdin in the center of the hall.

A tense silence filled the hall. Then, the red dragon began to speak.

“Drem yol lok. Greetings to you all. I am Yolvahdin, survivor of the great Dragon War six centuries ago, and one of the last Min Vahlokke- Lorekeepers, of the dovah.” She paused briefly. “Today, the race you know as ‘dragons’ lie scattered across the world, warring both with other races and with one another. But it had not always been so. Once, in an age that has been all but forgotten, our kind- indeed, our world- was ruled by a single dragon. His name is lost to us, but we know still his titles: Strundu’ul- Stormcrown; Saraan, the Firstborn; Venloktul, the Darkening Cloud; but above all others, he was… Unslaaddovasejun. The Immortal Dragon Emperor. He has long since passed from our world, but it was said that one day, when a great shadow spreads across our world, our Emperor would be reborn, to strike down this evil. Thus was born the tale of the Dovahkiin.”

A murmuring rose among the crowd, but was silenced when Yolvahdin began to speak again. “Very recently, the Usurper King from the days of the Dragon War- the one you know as ‘Alduin,’ returned to our world. And this young dragon who stands before you now-” She motioned to Spike. “-the one you know as Dovahkiin- challenged him in the field of battle, and slayed him. If the tale of old holds true, then this dragon, Spike, is indeed our Emperor reborn, and I stand before all of you now to proclaim to the entire world this fact.”

Spike took no notice as all eyes in the room fell on him. Him, an Emperor? The idea was utterly laughable, and yet the gravity of Yolvahdin’s words told him that it must have been true. And yet his mind refused to accept it. All he could do was stand frozen, gaze fixated on Yolvahdin, caught between a state of belief and disbelief.

She looked to Spike. “Come, Dragonborn. I would Speak to you.”

Yolvahdin’s word snapped Spike out of his stunned state, and he stepped forward, stopping when he was in front of the elder dragon.

She looked down at him for a moment. Then, Yolvahdin began to Speak. At once, her Words battered against Spike like powerful waves, but he braced himself, and endured. He could barely open his eyes as the Words whipped past, but still, he stood firm. The ground shook, and his very bones rattled, but he refused to falter. Somehow, through the turmoil, Yolvahdin’s Words reached his ears:

“Lingrah krosis saran maarrot Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Bormahu, naal suleyk do fin Monahven, ahrk naal suleykke do pah fin Geinnebo. Meyz nu Unslaaddovahsejun, fin Saraan, fin Thu’um do Vahzen. Dahmaan daar rok.”

Long has the name Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. We bestow it to you now, in the name of the All-Father, in the name of the… Mother Wind… and in the names of all the Ones Above. You are… you are… Spike struggled to decipher the next word. Un… Undying Dragon… King? he thought. Everything that followed was easy: …the First, the Voice of Truth. Hearken to it.

Spike slumped over, breathing hard. He had done nothing but weather Yolvahdin’s words, but the effort had taxed him far more than he’d anticipated. But he was not the only one affected, it seemed- Yolvahdin too slumped forward, breathing heavily.

But soon enough, she was upright once more. “…It is done. That you still stand before me means that you are indeed the one we have waited for. It gives me great joy to welcome you into the living world once more… Lord Stormcrown.” She brought herself low. “I humbly await your order.”

Again Spike was stunned into silence. Yolvahdin, a dragon several centuries his senior at the very least, was bending her knee to him. He dropped down to one knee, his mind simply shutting off with the overwhelming influx of information.

But very soon, there was a commotion as a mare pushed her way through the crowd. She approached

Spike, and touched his shoulder. Her touch alone told him that it was Twilight. “Are you okay?”

He pushed up his helmet and rubbed his temples. “I will be. I just… need a minute.” Spike slowly began to limp away, toward the doors leading to the garden.

“Spike…” She began to follow him-

“Qozul.” Twilight stopped. She had heard that name exactly once, and yet she knew instantly that she was the one being addressed. She turned to face her addresser.

“Yolvahdin,” she began.

“I must speak with you, kiir. It is a matter I can entrust only to you.”

She could see Spike passing through one of the doors leading out to the gardens; it took every ounce of willpower she had to keep from following. “Okay… what is it?”

“Walk with me. And if it does not trouble you, I would that you remain to my left. I fear I have not yet adjusted to my reduced field of vision.” Yolvahdin turned and began to exit the main hall. Twilight followed- the crowd parted as the dragon approached, more out of fear than respect. “Faal Kulaasse have ruled this nation of Equestria since wresting its throne from the Uznahgaar, the Unbridled One, two thousand years ago. But their reign, long though it has been, will not last forever.”

Twilight was silent. She knew in her heart that one day, the royal sisters would no longer sit on Canterlot’s throne. Though she’d never put much thought into it before that moment, she shuddered at the thought of Equestria without Celestia and Luna at its helm.

“With the Nameless One dead, the task of guiding the Dovahkiin falls to Celestia and Luna. But one day, perhaps sooner, perhaps later, they shall no longer be among our number. When that day comes, I ask you- not only as his briinah, but as a fellow dovah- to defend him. With your life, if you must.”

Defend him? Twilight thought. Even with all his power? Even after everything he’s already accomplished? She replied, without a moment’s hesitation, “Spike doesn’t need to be protected.”

Yolvahdin shook his head. “Ah, you misunderstand, kiir. I do not doubt that the young Lord can weather the relentless assault of the hokoronseslen- the enemy without. But it is the hokoronsesil- the enemy within- that you must guard him against.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “…Enemy within?”

“Geh. Now that he has been made aware of the return of the Unslaaddovahsejun, Alduin will use any means at his disposal to sway the young Lord into His service.” They passed through the main doors and turned right, walking along the side path that led to the palace gardens. “You must ensure that this does not happen, no matter the cost.”

Twilight looked up at the elder dragon in confusion. “Alduin? But… he’s dead. We spent all this time preparing so we could beat him. It’s over now… isn’t it?”

“Nid. The Nameless One lies dead, but Alduin yet lives. Though his agents fall, un Lot Hokoron- our Great Enemy- endures, as always.” The two had stopped at the outer wall at the edge of the garden. Yolvahdin pushed herself up on her hind legs for a moment, before resting her forelegs on the top of the wall. “So it is. So it has always been, long before Bormahu breathed life into this once-lifeless world.”

Twilight did not respond. It was evident to her now that the Alduin of which Yolvahdin spoke was not the Alduin Spike had defeated in the World Beyond. The name was the same, but the meaning behind it… she couldn’t put her hoof on why, but it was different. She was sure of it. It was larger than just a single dragon. More powerful.

More menacing.

Yolvahdin looked to Twilight, her gaze intense. “Darkness stirs. Black clouds will grow and fester in the hearts and minds of all who inhabit this world. And those who cannot resist Alduin’s flatteries and false promises will bend their knee to Him readily. His ranks will grow like a cancer, and threaten to consume the entire world. There is but one who can oppose Him… and the Great Enemy knows this. Every resource will be spent tempting him, every moment spent waiting for a moment of weakness.” Yolvahdin looked away. “It is the fate of the Dovahkiin, the Emperor Stormcrown reborn, to unite the world under his banner once more and put down the rising Darkness… but he cannot possibly do it alone.”

Again, Yolvahdin looked to Twilight. “So, when the fated day comes, and the Dovahkiin is all that stands between us and utter annihilation- and mark my words, that day will come- that you stand alongside him. That you defend our world from the Looming Shadow.”

Twilight’s response was automatic.

“I’ve been standing with Spike from the moment he was born. I won’t turn my back on him- not now. Not ever.”

Yolvahdin looked away from Twilight, nodding. “Your resolve has not faltered. This is good. The Dovahkiin’s strength will only continue to grow from this day forward. But so will yours. And you will need this newfound strength to keep the young Lord on the Gro Lok- on the Right Path.” She spread her wings. “I must return to my post. If ever you find yourself in need of guidance, do not hesitate to seek me out.” Powerful gusts of wind blew across the garden as Yolvahdin took flight. For several moments, Twilight watched the elder dragon fly across the night sky, before losing sight of her somewhere in the darkness.

She turned away. When this was over, she needed to speak with Celestia. And Luna. Whatever this “new” Alduin may have been, she needed to be prepared for it. To be able to recognize the signs of its influence in Spike. To ask if she could be corrupted as well. To-

Twilight stopped. At that moment that she spotted something out of the corner of her eye.

Spike.

He was standing at the edge of the garden, where the outer wall was low, looking out over the countryside. He’d taken his helmet off, and had set it aside on the wall. He seemed… tired.

And she didn’t blame him.

Twilight approached the young dragon. “Hey… what’re you doing out here?”

Spike didn’t turn towards her. He didn’t even look at her. “Call me crazy, but I’m not really in the mood to celebrate just yet.”

Twilight could certainly sympathize with the young dragon- a lot had happened over the last twelve days. Almost too much, it seemed. And if what Yolvahdin had said was true, then things were going to get much worse. But still, she touched his shoulder and smiled at him, as if nothing was wrong. “It’s finally over. We won. You’re not happy? Not even a little bit?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe one day, but… but not right now. Especially not after what Yolvahdin said.” He looked to her. “You heard what she called me, right? The… what was it…? Undying King of Dragons?”

“Immortal Dragon Emperor, Spike.”

He turned towards her. “Twilight, how can you be so calm about this? I mean… what does that even mean? Will I have to go away again? And what if I can't come back this time?”

“Spike, everything will be just fine. You’ll see.”

Spike sighed. “I wish I could have your optimism, Twilight.” Spike rested his hands on the wall again. “And what was that other thing she called me? ‘Stormcrown?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

The name was one Twilight had never heard before. “I’ll look into it when we get home.”

Spike crossed his arms, before resting his chin on top of them. “I wish Thorn were still here. Maybe he’d know.” He suddenly stood up straight. “Maybe we can use the portal to talk to him!”

“About that, Spike… Thorn is… well, he’s gone.”

Spike looked at her. “Yeah, I know. He’s dead. I saw.”

Twilight shook her head. “That isn’t what I meant, Spike. I mean, he’s gone.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Twilight, you’re not making any sense.”

She sighed, before she began to explain everything.

Spike stepped back, eyes wide. “W-Wait… What? Thorn…? He was…?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “You… really didn’t figure it out on your own?”

“Well… I guess I thought there was something kind of weird about him, but I was so focused on

Alduin that I didn’t really think about it.” He leaned against the wall again. “So, what happened to Thorn? You said he faded away.”

“I have a theory- it’s only a theory, mind you, but my guess is that since Alduin is dead in the present, he can’t destroy the world in the future, so the future Thorn came from doesn’t exist anymore. He wouldn’t have had a reason to come back.”

“So… does that mean in two hundred years, I’m gonna have to go back in time, help myself defeat Alduin, and then die?”

“Um…” Twilight froze, uncertain of how to answer that question. Things were already confused as it was with Thorn’s time traveling- she didn’t want to muddle things further by considering the possibility of having to create a time loop. “…we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Spike.”

“So you have no idea then,” he replied harshly. “Great.” He pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk away. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait, where’re you going?”

“I don’t know. Just… somewhere that isn’t here.”

“Spike!” Twilight called. Her horn glowed, but Spike disappeared in a green flash before she could grab him.

Twilight hadn’t told him how teleportation spells worked, but they seemed simple enough based on his past experience- all he needed to do was picture where he wanted to go in his mind, concentrate, and he was there.

When Spike opened his eyes, he was met with a familiar sight- the glowing crater of a volcano far away from Ponyville. The mass of slumbering dragons told him that a second dragon migration had yet to begin. He began to walk forward when a voice called to him.

“Well, look who it is.”

Spike looked to its source- an adolescent dragon with red scales. Spike never did catch his name. He was, as before, flanked by three other dragons: a taller white dragon, a lanky purple dragon, and a stout brown dragon. “What’s with the get-up?”

Spike didn’t respond right away. It seemed the world had spared him the trouble of finding his target.

“Hey, what’re you, deaf? I’m talking to you!” The red dragon raised his claw to push him.

Spike’s hand shot up and grabbed the red dragon’s talon. “Don’t. Touch me.”

The red dragon brought his face close to Spike’s. “Oh yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

For a moment, Spike merely glared at the red dragon. Then he inhaled sharply. “FUS…”

Twilight heard a deep rumble from somewhere in the distance, and swore she could hear a faint “…RO DAH!” echoing from somewhere within. Another green flash returned Spike to her side.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

He sighed as he slumped against the railing. “…Not really.”

For a long while, Twilight and Spike simply stood at the balcony railing, looking out over the countryside in silence. Though close to the grand hall, the gardens were strangely quiet- perhaps Celestia had closed them off temporarily, to give the two of them space.

Eventually, Twilight asked, “…Spike?”

He looked to her. “Yeah?”

She had nothing to say. No words to comfort her younger companion. As Spike looked at her in confusion, she leaned forward, and did the only thing she could think to at that moment.

As soon as it had happened, Twilight pulled away. Spike could only stare at her, eyes wide, slowly raising a claw to touch his lips. “…T-Twilight…” he stammered. “Wha… what was that?”

“Isn’t… that what’s supposed to happen?” she asked. “The hero saves the day, and a girl kisses him?”

“Twilight…” Spike began. “This isn’t like one of those old fairytales, you know.”

“Isn't it?” She looked away, and put her front hooves on the wall. “Everything that's happened these last few days, it all feels so… unreal. Like, at any moment we'll both wake up back at the library, and find out none of this actually happened.”

“If only we could be so lucky.” There was silence between the two for several moments, before Spike said, “…You know, I was saving that for Rarity.”

A moment passed before Twilight replied, “…She doesn’t have to know.”

---

The night of the Grand Galloping Gala, two hundred years later…

The lavender alicorn walked down the hall alone. Though it was the night of the Grand Galloping Gala, she had removed herself from the crowds on the palace’s lower floors, and in her solitude she had set aside her royal regalia. She was taller now, her horn longer and sharper, her features more well-defined. Her violet mane and tail flowed as though caught in some unfelt breeze, divided by a single unmoving magenta streak. Her swollen belly did little to hamper the grace of her stride.

Eventually, the alicorn stopped in front of one of the numerous stained glass windows that lined the hallway. The window before her depicted a small purple dragon, clad in armor of leather and iron, standing atop a horned dragon’s skull, wreathed by spiraling columns of red and blue fire. It was not the newest window, but it was the very first she had designed herself, in honor of a dear friend.

“Another trip down memory lane?” a voice to her right asked. The voice was deep, like two great stones grinding against one another. “You seem to be taking a lot of those lately.”

She looked to the voice’s source. Had Twilight not personally bore witness to his transformation, the dragon approaching her would have been completely unrecognizable. He was massive, utterly dwarfing her in size, at least for the moment- he could change his size at will, his larger form being used solely to fulfill foreign dignitaries’ expectations about what a dragon should look like. His underside was a deep purple- his back was coated with a layer of stars set into a pitch black background, which remained static even as he moved. If Twilight were to look outside the night sky above, she would see that the dragon’s back reflected it perfectly.

“Isn’t it rude for the guest of honor to sneak out of his own party?” Twilight asked the dragon.

“Well, I thought it was okay for a dragon to be worried about his wife.” His form began to change as he approached, shrinking down until his body had become long and slender, standing only slightly taller than her. “Besides, it isn’t just my party, Twilight. I thought we weren’t arguing about this anymore.” Spike looked at the stained-glass window. “I know it’s just me up there, but I couldn’t have beat Alduin without you. Or Thorn. You know that.”

“I know.” Twilight looked to the other stained glass- each chronicled a past adventure, a great triumph over the forces of evil. But with each successive window, their friends disappeared, one by one, until only she and Spike were left.

Spike could sense Twilight’s melancholy. “This isn’t just about the party… is it?”

“…I miss them. The Princess, Rarity, Fluttershy…”

Spike rested his head on Twilight’s shoulder. “I miss them too, Twilight. That’s why we have to stick together- all we have now is each other.” He looked at her. “But… it isn’t like we can’t visit them, you know. The portal’s still open.”

Twilight touched Spike’s neck with her hoof. “I know. But it isn’t the same. It’s not like having them here, with us.”

Spike lingered for a moment, before pulling away. “Well, all the same, I think you should pay them a visit. They might want to hear the good news.” Spike’s eyes fell on Twilight’s rounded stomach. “So… how long will it be?”

“The doctor said it shouldn’t be too long now. No more than a month.”

Spike slowly began to move his claw towards Twilight’s stomach, before stopping himself. “Twilight… can I…”

Twilight frowned. “Spike, you’re my husband. I don’t think you need to ask for my permission.”

Spike’s claw hovered for a moment, before finally resting itself on Twilight’s stomach. Even through her skin, Spike could feel the hard mass developing within his wife’s body. “I still can’t believe you’re okay with this.”

“It’s not like dragons haven’t been part of the royal family before, Spike.”

“I know. But this will be the first dragon born into the royal family… ever. It’s kind of a big deal, you know.”

She pulled away, and began walking down the hall, down the way Spike had come. “You’re not worried, are you?”

He quickly caught up with her. “No! …Well… a little. Yeah. I remember the stories Mom told about me when I was little.”

“Everything will be fine, Spike. I do have experience raising baby dragons, after all.” Twilight and Spike had somehow found their way onto one of the palace’s numerous balconies. The two fell silent as they approached the railing, and looked out to the countryside.

On the horizon, the two could see brilliant golden spires rising from where Ponyville had once stood- where it still stood, unrecognizable from the small town Twilight and Spike had first set foot in on that day over two hundred years ago. Canterlot, in contrast, had changed little in the past two hundred years, standing as a monument to Equestria’s past.

“It’s so different from what I remember,” Spike said.

“I know,” Twilight replied. “I wonder what the others would think of it.”

Spike looked down at her. “I’m sure they’d love it.”

She smiled, nodding. “You know, I think you’re right.” Twilight rested her head against his shoulder. “…I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Spike nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

He draped his arm around her neck and pulled her close. The two fell silent once more, simply enjoying the company of the other… until the sound of hoofsteps met their ears. It normally wouldn’t have caught their attention… except that there were no guards posted in the hall on that night. The footfalls stopped at the door, just a few feet behind them- the two looked back, to see a dull grey earth pony standing in the balcony’s doorway.

“Visitors aren’t permitted in this part of-” Spike stopped. The creature standing before him was not a pony. Its odd, slumped posture, its glowing red eyes… everything about it told him it was nothing more than a facsimile of a pony. And the creature wasted no time casting off its disguise.

“Glory to the Great Shadow who envelops us in His embrace forever and ever!” the pony shouted before suddenly exploding in a shower of blood and torn flesh. In its place stood a bubbling mass of writhing limbs, chittering madly, its dozen irregularly shaped eyes fixated on the two.

“The sensors should’ve caught this one,” Spike said. He extended his arm and focused- with a flash, a sword appeared in his hands.

“We had to disable them for the Gala,” Twilight replied, her horn beginning to glow. “Too much risk of false positives.” There was another flash, and Twilight was covered in heavy golden armor. “Remember last year?”

“Yes, yes…” Spike replied, reading his sword. “Just be careful. The doctor said not to do anything strenuous.”

“I can handle myself, Spike.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s the egg.”

Twilight gave Spike a hard glare.

“Okay, that sounded a lot less offensive in my head.”

The beast tired of waiting for them, and charged. Without hesitation, Twilight and Spike did the same.

Comments

[Princess Cadence]

Shoggoths invading now? Oh well, just another day...

[DarkDMan]

Truly awesome chapter! Please end it here. This is to good as it is to continue!

[DX-1118 C]

I wish thorn would come back. Existing out of time because of a paradox that separates you from your own timeline is possible. There are a fed ways you can make it happen too.

[KARLOS1234IFY]

4496220

[KARLOS1234IFY]

What a great ending.

[Sille]

Ten quid says it's Hermeus Mora and old Miraak. Good ending though, can't wait for the sequel.

[ChaoticImp]

An amazing story comes to a close, and what a close at that
Here's hoping that you might consider continuing this in a sequel

[Thegodhand]

Finally got around to reading the end of this story, and now I'm kicking myself for waiting so long. Thanks for the great story.

[Ignaltus]

Lovecraft and Equestria... ofcorse.

[Magos Xenos Disathairne]

367102 i thought this was a shipfic