//------------------------------// // 36 –"The King Sits There" // Story: Spike Quits His Job and Goes on Numerous Quests // by B_25 //------------------------------// ~36~ "The King Sits There" Spike sighed a heavy breath that alleviated the tension clenching at his chest and cleared away the fog that had been plaguing his mind ever since the fall. Sitting upon the throne without a worry as to what the suits of armor would do to him, or what he would do once he left the castle. He was swept away in the same serenity that had washed over him when he first ran away from the library and came to rest against a lone tree, where Fluttershy had come to wake him up hours later. He remembered his eyes drifting shut once more, but he didn’t fall asleep, nor did he remain fully awake. Jumbled blurs wisped into existence in the vast black space contained behind his sealed eyelids, distorted voices joining in on the long forgotten memories, brought back to the dragon in the instant he had decided to relax his soul. He watched the times where he would approach a much younger Twilight with his tail clutched between his talons, voice almost imperceptible to her keen ears, announcing once again that he had wet the bed. Spike expelled air from his nostrils akin to a chuckle at the memory, as her familiar embrace in the memory wrapped around his scales in the present, protecting him from the chill of the metal which he sat on. The memory disintegrated back into the depths of his subconscious, but not before another one wished into existence. It was a time after Twilight had integrated herself into Ponyville, and she and the girls were going on a quest to resolve friendship problems around the world. The face of the foe who brought harm to the town proved to blurry to be described, but Spike remembered watching from a distant, as his friends came together in a barrage of impressive moves to kick the sorry evil butt. The girls were handed medals on elevated wooden stage afterward, with a crowd of masses cheering their names and labeling them as the town’s heroes, as Spike too cheered from the crowd. But the mares and stallions were too tall for the girls to hope to see him possibly, and his cheers were outmatched by the much deeper and louder calls of those older to him. The drake became the only one not cheering in the crowd of those who were grateful, and was the first one to walk away, and board the train express heading home. Spike shook his head to cut the memory short, watching it shatter back into the streams of his subconscious, where instead choose to retrieve fantasies to watch and to enjoy. The fact that he was already sitting on some ancient throne did wonder for when the envisioned dragon prince came to life in the dreamscape, watching him descend forth into fields lit ablaze by the fires of chaos. His sword of almost equal length and girth to him came down on the pack of orcs assaulting one of his guards, using the opening he had just made to slash across the entire pack in one swift swipe. Jolts of ecstasy coursed through the drake’s bloodstreams as he watched his princely form continue to take the field, commanding his guards to his side and taking down any enemy with elegance and swiftness. The Prince held an expression of stern handsomeness that spoke both of his beauty and of his tameness when the time called for it. Dressed in golden armor capable of exuding a royal aurora only when worn by those who held that grace within the seals of their hearts and possessed the wisdom in their minds. Spike fell in love with this romantic Prince, the perfect display of all that he hoped to become, as his calm nature allowed the drake to project all of his fantasies into him. How he must have the smoothest tongue capable of conceiving and chanting others, not always flapping around at everything like Spike’s does. The same tongue that induced some chuckles to escape the confines of his throat. Underneath the Prince’s armor must be the perfectly chiseled body, both robust enough to accomplish whatever it is that needed be done while being at the perfect shape to have even a pony fall in love with a dragon. Love. The thing Spike often question about himself, if he was capable of falling truly in love or even sharing the sensation with others. This Prince would come to be the embodiment of it, wishing it upon both his enemies and his friends, and help anyone who had a question on the subject to help them find their path. Those chuckles soon grew into laughter at the thought, a ticklish-warmness spreading underneath the purple scales as endorphins coursed through his mind. That was right. All types of creatures would go to the Prince for his wisdom and his protection, falling in love at just the sight of him, hoping to stay around him to see his personality slowly being to reveal itself. The fantasy was cut short there, leaving its ambiguous continuation a constant pleasure and possibility in the young dragon’s mind. His laughter continued to ring out, until it halted at something bother warm and cold enveloping his hand, forcing open his eyes to words written in a golden aurora. “Off my chair, jester. The King sits there.” The golden aurora wrapped around the drake’s claw pulled him off from the throne and pivoted him down the red-carpeted step, twirling him left to where a grand hallway awaited his entrance. Spike felt the flickering aurora let go of his claw and wisped forth into the hall, not before morphing once again into some words to string the dragon along into its little game. “Come now, Forgotten Drifter, to where you were once a Guardian.”