His earliest memories were of a very small, warm and wet place.
Had he been a mammal, this would have been his mother's womb, and he would never have remembered it. Prenatal mammalian minds are not that well-formed: they have sensation and identity, but only short-term memories.
But he was not a mammal. He was an archosaur. Specifically, he was a Dragon.
And, while his literally-embryonic memories were confused and limited, they were present. There was a big warm comforting female presence that occasionally spoke to him, in a language he did not yet understand, but whose intonations meant to him love. Then there were sharp frightening sounds and voices raised in anger and fear.
Then nothing.
And then ... a series of separate impressions. Energies pouring into him, another kind of voices speaking another language, which he later knew to be Equestrian. A whole different set of voices speaking, but in a tongue that changed but slowly from voice to voice. Much, much later he knew what had happened, that these were mages, many different sets of mages across many generations, trying and failing to hatch his egg. Each time they failed, he returned to the nothing.
Then, another voice, another presence, a pattern of magic sensed. That pattern reached out, responded, matched with his own. Energy surged into his accumulators, tiny and weak though they were at this stage in his development. The energy and the pressure built up irresisitibly, and he had to stretch.
He stretched, and burst out of his eggshell. Instead of tumbling out of the egg, he instead found himself floating in midair, caught in the gentle telekinetic grip of the same energy which had just helped him hatch.
As was the nature of his kind, he emerged facing the source of the energy-boost that was helping him hatch. He gazed wonderingly, and lovingly, into the face of his hatcher. Some things did not match his instincts -- she was too small, and too soft, all lavender coat and indigo hair and purple eyes. He of course did not yet have the terms, but she was no archosaur. She was, rather, a mammal. Specifically, a Unicorn filly.
But those purple eyes looked joyously into his own, and in them he sensed love and caring, and a program evolved deep into his own mind, one which predated sapience or even great intelligence among archosaurs, engaged. Imprinting, would have been what it would have reported if it had worked in verbal terms. Mother.
It would be a long time before he understood this, because he was as yet a new and ignorant creature, and he was for years to be confused by the fact that, in the society into which he was now born, the relationship of Twilight Sparkle to him would be not "mother," but rather "adoptive elder sister." The role of "mother" in terms of raising him would be split between Princess Celestia Sola Invicta, who was his first guardian; and Twilight Velvet, the mother of Twilight Sparkle, who would mostly take care of him after Celestia was forced to return to her national obligations.
He of course knew nothing of this yet. All he knew was that he finally had some room to move around in. He yawned, and stretched ...
... and then something terrifying then happened. Twilight Sparkle shrieked, her eyes glowed white, and she levitated, as an immense surge of magical energy flowed through her into Spike. Wild magic sprayed everywhere, and suddenly the rather large chamber in which he, she and several other Ponies had been shrank until it was smaller than Spike's original egg.
For the second time that minute, Spike hatched; his head now poking through the roof of the chamber. He blinked in confusion, seeing the city of Canterlot, and the Mountain and Vale of Avalon spread out below him. Somewhere in the sky, he saw a beautiful rainbow-hued explosion. He gazed at it, fascinated by a particular dark-purple band in the play of colors ...
It was a lot to take in for a highly-intelligent, but woefully-ignorant young archosaur whose entire visual world had, up until now, consisted of an egg. The world certainly was big, and interesting!
He was not sure what to do next. One set of instincts told him to work himself clear of the egg -- but he'd already done that, and he wasn't sure whether the chamber had shrunk or he'd grown, and it might be bad for him to start thrashing around if the latter was the case, another set of instincts told him.
The Ponies in that chamber, and in Canterlot, were quite fortunate that he came of a kind which actually had instincts regarding what to do if they grew instantly to greater size. Another sort of creature, or one which hadn't just imprinted on a Pony, might have done Canterlot considerable damage in its newborn puzzlement.
Then there was another powerful magical presence by his side, and an energy touching him and reaching into the link between himself and Mother. For a moment he was frightened, but the energy felt very warm, female and friendly. Trust me, it said. I'm here to help.
And Spike, who was in his mind but a newborn Dragon, trusted her. The energy did something, and the structure in which he was standing once again expanded -- or he himself shrank, he was fairly sure now that it was the latter -- and he was sitting amidst the remnants of the egg and the nest in which it had been sitting, contemplating the one he thought of as Mother, Twilight Sparkle, who was being regarded by a much bigger white, horned and winged creature of a kind similar to herself. This other Pony had a very strange mane and tail, a pastel rainbow which billowed as if blown by an ethereal wind.
And that was his first visual impression of Princess Celestia, who was to become very important in his life.
He needed something comforting after all these shocks. He twitched muscles and a spade-tipped tail appeared before his field of view. It was his own tail. He sucked on it, and immediately felt somewhat better.
"Twilight Sparkle," said Princess Celestia. Her voice was kind, but there was a tone in it that demanded attention. Spike of course did not yet know this, but she had been practicing tones like this for some two millennia.
"I'm very sorry!" squeaked Twilight Sparkle. "I didn't mean ..."
"You have a very special gift," said Princess Celestia. "I don't think I've ever come across a unicorn with your raw abilities."
"Huh?" said Twilight Sparkle, surprised by this.
"But you need to learn to tame these abilities, through focused study."
"Huh??" Twilight Sparkle was clearly confused.
"Twilight Sparkle, I'd like to make you my own personal protégé here at the school."
"Huh?!" Twilight Sparkle was even more confused. She looked at two adult Ponies -- a mare and a stallion, Twilight Velvet and Night Light, Spike would later learn, her parents and the ones destined to be his own adoptive parents. -- seeking guidance.
The two nodded vigorously, whinnying with the intensity of their excitement.
"Yes!" cried Twilight Sparkle happily, leaping in sheer exuberation.
"One other thing ..." said Celestia.
"More?" asked Twilight Sparkle.
Celestia waved a hoof wordlessly at Twilight's rump.
Twilight's gaze followed the motion. Her eyes widened when she saw the stars that adorned it.
"My Cutie Mark!" she exclaimed in delight. "Yes!" she cried, leaping to her feet. "Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes!!!" hopping and frisking all around Celestia, who smiled indulgently at her.
And that was how Spike was hatched.
Much of his life was spent in the Royal Palace at Canterlot: that great rambling complex from which the supernally-beautiful and almost-unbelievably wise Princess Celestia ruled most of the North Amareican continent. Most of that Palace was of metal-reinforced solid stone, faced in white marble and accented in gold; an architectural masterpiece of greater volume than most towns, and immensely valuable.
The main building -- the Palace Capitol -- was huge and extremely strong. While its wide windows prevented it from being a true fortress, its sturdy though soaring walls were both designed and enchanted with considerable resistance to any but the heaviest of siege artillery. Here was the center of the government; the head offices of the major Ministries, and the residential quarters of Princess Celestia herself, in the higher chambers of the Solar Wing.
Here, too, lived the hatchling in the first months of his life outside the egg.
There, he was tended to by none other than Princess Celestia.
Spike was never, in all his immensely-long life, entirely certain why Celestia had chosen to assume this burden herself. Later -- very much later -- he was to learn of an earlier Spike the Dragon, one who had been taken in by the immortal Mares of Paradise Estate, long millennia before one of their number had given birth to Celestia and Luna, itself long millennia before the present day.
That Spike had performed signal service to the Mares of Paradise Estate, and in the process played a role in saving all Ponykind from the Time of Extermination. This Celestia had never forgotten, and when she had found herself positioned to do good for a Dragon descended from that earlier Spike, had seized the opportunity.
But she did not have to take on the tasks of new-hatched child care herself. She could have delegated them to many others among her numerous servants. Instead, she chose to perform these services -- even of the most humble and personal nature -- herself.
Admittedly, another reason may have been to spare her servants the difficulty and indeed danger of tending to a Dragon hatchling. For while Spike in his first few months was far from the massive, armored, firebreathing monster he was to eventually become: while his scales then were tender and his smokes cool by the standards even of Dragon babies; still, he was a Dragon.
Celestia had faced unafraid on the field of battle full-grown adult Dragons, singly and in groups, and vanquished them. She was an Alicorn Major: herself strong, powered by the same fires that nourished suns, shielded by interlocking spells woven into her very anatomy, and capable of regenerating almost any harm that did not slay her outright. There was no irreperable harm that little Spike might wreak upon her, no matter with what simple-minded infant energy he gnashed his baby jaws or squeezed his tiny claws or vomited flame from his barely-functional pyrogastrum.
The same would not have been true as regarded mere normal Ponies. And Celestia was known to geniunely care for the fates of her servants.
So it was that the business of administering a vast Realm were delayed or delegated to subordinates, while the immortal Avatar of a Cosmic Concept tended to one new-hatched Dragon.
At the time, of course, Spike thought nothing of it. He demanded attention with the shameless selfishness of any infant being. He cried out for food and drink (though neither milk nor pap, as he was no mammal, and even his weak newborn jaws were quite capable of crunching through solid bone, which was indeed part of the problem); he was given such sustenance. He wanted to be burped and changed after his meals, and so it was done. He wanted to be hugged and kissed and cuddled and fondly murmurred to by his mother, and the Ruling Princess Celestia Sola Invicta assumed this office, just as if she had not not borne upon her shapely white withers the dignified burden of sovereignity over a large portion of the Earth and leadership of a great nation of Ponies.
It was more than most monarchs would have done, but then Princess Celestia was more than most monarchs: more, indeed, than even her subjects would imagine until that dark day, then still three and a half decades in the future, when the heavens would tear asunder and darkness spill through to threaten all Earthlife. Then, the world would be glad that Princess Celestia was even more than she seemed.
But that day was not yet. Besides, Celestia had always loved little children.
So passed the first few months of Spike's life.
The time came when Celestia reluctantly surrendered her charge to Twilight Sparkle.
He was not, of course, unused to her. Apart from his initial imprinting, Twilight Sparkle had regularly come to visit and check on him. Celestia encouraged her to do this, because she had always meant her student to take care of him. She needed very little pressure to do this, because Twilight found the hatchling utterly fascinating.
When Celestia told Twilight that she wanted to make Spike her student's charge, the young Unicorn was of course at first utterly overwhelmed by this. Twilight Sparkle was in no way ready for such a responsibility. She was at the time but eight years old -- herself still a young filly; far too young by normal standards to care for a younger Pony sibling, let alone a hatchling Dragon.
She did have several things going for her, though. First, she was a Light: scion of an old Canterlot clan with a history of courage and determination. Lights did not readily give up; especially not on a charge of honor. Second, she was Twilight Sparkle: one of the smartest Ponies of her generation. Even as a filly, she could solve problems that might stymie lesser mortals.
Third, and perhaps most importantly, Spike was a baby Dragon. Product of an evolution in some ways harsher than that which had produced the Ponies; physically far tougher than any non-Alicorn; he was by no means as like to come to harm as a Pony foal. Even as a hatchling, there was metal reinforcing both scales and bones. Twilight Sparkle would have had to make an egregious error indeed in order for it to prove literally fatal.
Finally, in regard to the important issue of his rearing, the young Unicorn filly had the very great advantage of having been raised by the redoubtable Twilight Velvet and her husband Night Light, two highly competent parents. Twilight Sparkle of course shaped her care for Spike on their excellent example: and, if that were not enough, on her holidays, the student took Spike home with her, where those two worthies themselves helped care for him.
So it was that the young Dragon received an excellent upbringing, by Pony standards. By Dragon standards, of course, he was treated far more lovingly than was the draconic norm.
It is not, of course, that Dragons do not love their get. They are highly-intelligent, slow-breeding creatures who but infrequently lay very small clutches of eggs, and whose offspring require several decades to reach adulthood. In consequence, they employ a K-selected reproductive strategy, just as do Ponies, and often love their children very much, with a fierce possessiveness alien to most Ponykind.
However, Dragons are huge apex predators, who contend for dominance with a frank ferocity also alien to most Ponykind. Dragon parents would do their children no favors by softly coddling them. Instead, their love would seem harsh to Pony parents: they do this to fit their young for the sometimes necessarily-violent life that awaits them; both the rough-and-tumble play of Dragon children, and the more serious fighting they may have to do in adulthood.
Spike was, by Dragon standards, a very spoiled child.
Yet it was not as bad as it might have been.
For while it was and is true that Pony children are, especially compared to Dragons, quite tenderly reared, it is also true that some Pony clans had heroic traditions. These included the Winds, the Kickers, the Apples, the Pies, the Runes, the Moons, the Nights -- and the Lights.
Twilight Sparkle was a Light by both parental lineages, and a Night by her paternal one. Her family had long served the Realm, as administrators, scholars, mages -- and soldiers. This had been true since the shadowy centuries when it was said that Two Sisters had helped establish the Realm: there was a family legend that they were in some way specially connected to the younger of those Two Sisters, the Moon Princess, the High Lady of War.
In more historical times of darkness they had fought hard to preserve the Realm, giving unstintingly of themselves to serve Celestia. And this tradition of brave and unselfish service was kept ever green even to the present day. Many Lights had died; many had won high honors: a Light neither shirked the burden nor feared the danger; a Light but rarely counted the cost. They were respected among the other gentry, and had paid for that respect in their own blood. This was both their duty, and their pride.
And in their service to the Realm, the Lights showed a fierce perseverance, verging on outright belligerence, that was perhaps not so alien to the nobler ideals of Dragons.
Thus it was almost inevitable that little Spike, growing up as he did immersed in the traditions of the Lights, and in the near-constant company and under the tutelage of perhaps the finest filly ever to be born of that stock, would adopt these ideals for his own. In doing so, Spike absorbed the most admirable aspects of Canterlot upper-class Unicorn culture. He utterly-internalized the Light code of honor, making it his own, and bound up his own self-esteem in behaving according to that ethos -- which included considerable self-control.
Well it was for both Spike and the Ponies around him that this was the case. For, even as a young child, Spike was stronger, pound for pound, than any Earth Pony; clad in metallic scales atop an almost indestructible skeleton; with teeth and claws able to rend solid stone, and the ability to spout out plasma fire.
Had Spike not decided from an early age to be an honorable Light, he might have instead become a monster.