//------------------------------//
// Chapter 6: Dragon's Gift 
// Story: The Problem of Evil 
// by Quixotic Mage 
//------------------------------//

Twilight woke up.

All things considered, she thought that that was a pretty good sign.

Slowly, the processes of her mind started to hum into motion.  She was lying on a soft surface she assumed was her bed, based on the way it molded perfectly to the contours of her body.  Now, what hurt?

Less than might be expected.  There were a few deep muscle aches and pains consistent with the strain of writhing in pain, but in general all the pieces of her body felt like they were where they were supposed to be.

Tentatively, Twilight worked her way into a sitting position, cautious for any sudden shooting pains.  None appeared, so she dared open her eyes.

Eye.

Oh.

That was going to take some getting used to.

The world around Twilight swum hazily into view. A flat view, like watching the world manifested on a pane of glass.  Her depth perception was, unsurprisingly, shot to Tartarus, though the dizziness she was feeling probably wasn’t helping matters.

Following her immediate instincts, she lit her horn and pulled a book off one of the shelves that lined three of the walls of her tower bedroom.  Opening it to a random page she reassured herself that the world of the printed word had not abandoned her.

Daring Do knocked the goblet from its plinth and into the lava below, shouting ‘you’ll never have it, Ahuizotl.’

Closing the book Twilight sighed with relief.  She had not lost her ability to read or her ability to do magic.  Therefore, the injury had, at the very least, not taken from her the two traits she held most precious.  It was not a catastrophic injury.

Rising from the bed Twilight made her way over to the bathroom, intent on inspecting her missing eye in the mirror.  Reaching for the handle she misjudged the distance and walked right into the door, banging her sore horn in the process.  Catastrophic or not, her injury still had done plenty of damage.  Hissing in pain Twilight fumbled for the handle again and let herself in, walking with her head down until she stood before the floor length mirror.

Altogether she really didn’t look that bad.  Sure she had bed head and her coat could use a good brushing, but really she was in better shape than she had any right to be.

Except for one thing.

Talking a deep breath Twilight’s vision drifted upwards until she could look herself in the eye.  Still she shied away from seeing it straight on.  Instead, Twilight let her gaze trace along the cuts standing out in angry red lines on her face, avoiding the dramatic mark at their center.

Slowly, reluctantly, she shifted her eye to regard the empty socket where her right eye once had been.  Unlike the cuts, her eye had not only been shredded by the shards of the teacup, but also cauterized by Spike’s flame.

Cauterized by dragonfire.  No power she had ever heard of could heal that wound, nor could anything restore her sight in that eye.  The emptiness of the socket and the sheer knowledge that this was something that could be fixed hurt, but not as much as she had expected.  Arguably not as much as was warranted.

She had already established that her magic and her books were still open to her and it was hard to imagine her friends or Spike or Luna abandoning her due to an injury.  The loss was painful, yes, but it would not destroy her.  Already, she had begun to plan how to replace the eye.

A magical artifact, perhaps? A crystal imbued with some type of sensory charm?  Or maybe a specialized form of depth perception detection?  An elaborate ring around her head using echolocation feeding directly into her spatial perception?  The ideas came thick and fast.

Too fast.

Twilight shook her head, still staring into her eye socket.  Why isn’t this bothering me more, she thought.  I just lost the eye and I’m already getting excited imaging the magical research I’ll get to conduct to develop a prosthesis.

Her thoughts seemed almost slippery, branching from main line to tangent effortlessly, easily tracking several trains of thought at once.  Twilight had spent quite a bit of time thinking.  She was very familiar with the strengths, weaknesses, and patterns of her normal thought processes.  This wasn’t normal.  Somehow, something in the mechanics of how she thought had changed.

As a test, Twilight posed a math problem to herself.  The square root of 546 is?

23.36664289109…

The answer came instantly, easily, and she cut it off after eleven digits.  What about science, she wondered.  What are the elements corresponding to, say, the atomic numbers 15, 8 and 28?

Phosphorus, Oxygen, Nickel.

Again, the answers were there instantly.  For a moment she dared hope that she had somehow become super intelligent.  Alright, now, what’s the solution to Fermane’s last theorem?

…

Ponyfeathers.

Disappointing though it was, Twilight had to rule out a sudden increase in intelligence.  It wasn’t that she suddenly knew more.  She certainly could have solved the other problems she’d put to herself, it was just that it suddenly took less time and required less focus.  As if she had spent a significant period of time memorizing those specific facts for quick recall when she hadn’t done any such thing.  Her brain was simply running as if retrieving any piece of information it contained was effortless.  But what could have happened to change how her brain ran?

Well, when she put it like that the answer seemed pretty obvious.  Her brain had gotten a nice dose of dragonfire.  The goal had been to cancel out… her… memory spell, but if there had been any other magic affecting Twilight’s brain it would have been destroyed as well.  Apparently, there had been magic tying up a non-trivial amount of Twilight’s mental processing.  She had never cast any spells on her own mind, there was far too much danger something would go wrong and permanently impair her thought processes.  So who could have cast it and what had the magic been meant to do?

Spike’s worried voice interrupted her musings.  “Twilight?  Where are you?”

“I’m in the bathroom, Spike.  I’ll be right out,” she called back.  Giving her new appearance a last onceover, Twilight turned away.  After performing her morning ablutions, brushing her teeth, washing her face, and brushing her coat, she walked out of the bathroom, still combing her mane.

“There you are.  Are you sure you should be up and about already?”  Spike asked, a frown covering his small face.  “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine Spike.”   Her stomach growled as she sniffed the air, catching the delicious scent of the breakfast he had brought with him.  “A bit hungry, but it appears you’ve brought the solution to that particular ill.”  She trotted past him, grabbing the breakfast cart in her magic as she went.  “Come on, let’s eat.”

Spike followed her over to a small round table across from the bed, where they had traditionally eaten breakfast when they had lived in the tower.  He wrung his hands, guilt twisting his face as he forced himself to speak.  “I – Twilight, I’m really sorry.  It’s my fault, all my fault.  If I hadn’t burned you maybe somepony could have healed your eye, but now they can’t and it’s my fault and you’re going to hate meeeeee,” his voice skirled upward as he spoke, finishing in a wail.

Startled, Twilight looked up and took in her number one assistant’s miserable expression, the tears building in his eyes. “Oh, Spike,” she said softly, “It wasn’t your fault at all.”  She knelt down and wrapped him in a tight warm hug.  “And I could never hate you.  Besides, you did exactly what I needed you to do.”

He sniffed, arms coming up to return the hug.  “Really?  You’re not just saying that?  I trust you, but I was worried that you were in a lot of pain and not thinking clearly.”

“I mean it Spike.  You saved my life.”  Twilight gave him one last squeeze and released him.

Rubbing the tears from his eyes, Spike sniffed again and made an effort to regain a measure of control.  “What happened there, Twilight?  One second you were talking to Princess Luna and the next you were screaming and your eye was all bloody and you were telling me to breathe fire at you.”

Twilight paused, parsing what Spike had just said.  “Does that mean you didn’t see how my eye got injured initially?”

“Not really.  It all happened so fast.”

Twilight was of two minds about how to reply.  One part of her believed in the whole truth at all times and so thought that she should tell Spike that she had injured herself in attacking him.  Another part never wanted to let Spike know how close she had come to harming him.  Or attempting to harm him anyway, since even sharp porcelain might not do much against dragon scales.  Though he was only a baby dragon and her magic was strong.

“I--,” she began, still uncertain what she was going to say, watching his innocently expectant expression.  Oddly enough, it was that innocent look that helped her decide in favor of the truth.  Twilight had kept herself from harming him while mentally damaged and in terrible pain.  She was not going to lie to Spike while her mind was clear.

“I was wrong, before, when I thought that the memory spell didn’t affect me.  You must have been safe because of the combination of the ward and your natural resistance as a dragon.  I got hit with a version of the spell that was altered by going through my ward.”  Twilight shifted uneasily as she spoke, trying not to dwell on how easily the interaction between her ward and the spell could have simply fried her mind then and there.  “It had been building for days and it got worse every time she was mentioned.”

Spike cocked his head.  “You mean Princess Celestia.”

Twilight fought down a conditioned wince, though the name shouldn’t actually hurt anymore.  “Yes, her.”  She shook off the discomfort and continued.  “Anyway, during my conversation with Luna the name was said often enough to reach critical mass.  The thought of her resonated through my mind and cast everything else out.  I could think only of her and everypony else was an enemy.  I had to attack to protect her, to show my loyalty to the only pony I could remember.”

Twilight took a steadying breath, marshalling her courage to tell the truth.  “I don’t think you could see, Spike, but after you ran over to me I was still holding my tea cup.  I crushed it into sharpened shards and pulled it toward you.”

“Toward me?” Spike asked, then his eyes widened in understanding.  “That’s why you kicked me.  I thought you were flailing out of control but you were pushing me out of the way.  Of course. There’s no way you could ever hurt me Twilight!”

“Spike, I almost—“

“You didn’t,” he said firmly.  “I know you would never.  The only thing you did do was push me out of harm’s way, regardless of the cost to yourself.”  Twilight tried to protest again but Spike talked right over her, hurrying along to keep her from dwelling on what he apparently felt was misplaced guilt.  “So then the dragonfire, was that to cancel out the mental spell?”

“Yes,” Twilight replied, reluctantly allowing herself to be drawn forward in the conversation.  “That’s the gist of it, actually using the dragonfire that way without burning my own brain was a bit more complicated, but since I’m still alive and sane it must have worked out.”

“I’m glad it did,” Spike started to say, before being interrupted by a growling stomach.  “I guess I’m relieved enough to be hungry again,” he chuckled.  “How about you fill me in on the rest of the details over breakfast?”

Twilight nodded in agreement and the two settled in their places around the small breakfast table with the ease of long habit.  They talked as they ate, Twilight explaining the magi-mechanical underpinnings of what had happened, at least so far as she had figured them out.  She bounced ideas off of Spike and his familiarity with Twilight’s way of thinking let him act as a good sounding board.  She also mentioned the strange increase in the speed of her mental processing and the two considered explanations for that as well.

Both pony and dragon had happy memories of many mornings spent in a similar fashion, brainstorming Twilight’s latest project and area of study, laughing and joking with one another as they talked.   Though the subject matter was more personal in this case, the familiarity of the situation was a comfort to both, a reaffirmation of the closeness of their connection.  It wasn’t so much the words said as the warmth of the tone and the trust that anything could be shared, discussed, and dissected, that rejuvenated the both of them after the long few days they’d had.

Just as the meal was ending and the conversation wrapping up, Sunlit Rooms rapped lightly on the door and, after being given permission, entered the room.  Twilight couldn’t help but eye her askance.  After all, this was the pony who could possibly be one component of Princess Celestia.  Twilight couldn’t puzzle out whether she should respect Sunlit based on her feelings toward Princess Celestia, or if she should be angry at the other pony for abandoning her position and Twilight herself.  It was all too complicated to deal with immediately and in any case there was crucial information missing.  With an effort of will, Twilight walled off those conflicting emotions and focused on listening to what Sunlit had come to say without judgement.

On the other hoof, Sunlit Rooms, was unambiguously pleased to see Twilight moving around.  “You’re up!  I’m so glad.  We were all so worried.  The doctor Princess Luna brought in said that you seemed to be fine, but he wouldn’t know for sure until you woke up.  How do you feel?”

Twilight pushed away her misgivings and reciprocated the other pony’s cheerful tone.  “I feel fine now, Sunlit.  Ready to get back to work, even.”

“Oh no, you should take it easy and give yourself time to adjust,” Sunlit said considerately.

“There are too many things going on right now for me to take a few days to rest,” Twilight objected, shaking her head.  “Besides, Princess Luna might need my help dealing with the fallout from the light in the north.”

“Well…”  Sunlit glanced around for eavesdroppers and lowered her voice as if in fear of being overheard.  “The truth is Princess Luna did seem a little nervous about having to explain the light to the court.”

Twilight barely prevented herself from noting acerbically that, one, they were at the top of her tower and thus perfectly well protected from being overheard, and two, glancing around suspiciously and speaking in a whisper was the best way to alert an eavesdropper to the fact that something interesting was being said.

Instead of commenting, Twilight took Sunlit’s words seriously.  “That’s understandable.  The court will no doubt be pretty unhappy about this.”  She paused as if struck by a sudden thought.  “I know.  I’ll go back her up, help her deal with the explanations.  I’m sure the thought that both of us are on the case will be reassuring to the nobles.”

“No no, the medic said you were not to do anything strenuous after waking up,” Sunlit protested.  “I can’t stop you from doing any work, but facing the whole court is out of the question.”

“Sunlit, trust me when I say that Princess Luna would be very grateful for my help right now,” Twilight responded.  “Besides I feel fine.”

“I don’t know…”  Sunlit fretted.

“I do.”  Twilight turned to Spike.  “Can you bring out the roll of black fabric from my workshop?”

“On it.”  The little dragon darted across the room and undid a frankly ominous number of locks.  With a grunt of effort, he pulled open the heavy steel door, pushed open the second heavy steel door hiding behind the first, and disappeared into Twilight’s magical experimentation room.  She refused to call it a laboratory.  Laboratories were for mad scientists and she was an Archmage.

“Why does it have so many locks?”  Sunlit’s tone had become, if anything, even more fearful.

Twilight glanced over at her.  “Does it make you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me, telling you would not help your peace of mind.”

Sunlit gulped but didn’t ask any more questions.

A moment later Spike trotted out of the dark room, redoing the locks and doors behind him.  “I brought the black fabric and a black leather strap.  You’re making an eye patch, right?”

“Astute as ever my faithful assistant.”  Twilight’s purple aura surrounded the two components and with a quick application of telekinesis, a cutting spell, and a melding spell she possessed a serviceable eye patch.  With a quick jerk of the head she fit it over her missing eye. “How do I look?” she asked the watching pony and dragon.

Sunlit Rooms and Spike glanced at one another, uncertain of how to respond.  The truth was that between the unhealed cuts standing out in angry red lines on her face, the black eye patch, and the fierce gleam in her remaining eye, Twilight was a frightening sight indeed.

“You, ah, you look pretty scary there Twilight,” Spike ventured hesitantly.

“Perfect.”  She grinned and Spike could have sworn that he saw teeth sharp enough to do credit to any dragon.  “Time to hold court.”


***


Luna had hoped that fear of the strange light up north would make the nobles of the court less intractable or, failing that, that necessity would make it easier for her to deal with the irritation they caused.  Neither turned out to be the truth.  Once again, it took only three minutes after the opening of court for Luna to find herself thoroughly frustrated.  Thankfully, rescue was on the way.

At the far end of the hall the towering oak doors briefly glowed magenta and slammed open, silencing the babbling of the nobles.  In strode the Archmage, Twilight Sparkle.

Nobles, by and large, could be fairly described as clockwork parasites.  Their goals tended to be no larger or more ambitious than skimming a few bits off the top while ensuring that ordinary life just kept ticking along.  Having made it to the top of the social totem pole they were happiest when times were normal and they were left to their own pursuits.

The nobles of Equestria knew that times were decidedly not normal.  Within the past year two ancient and sealed evils had returned to threaten all that they held dear.  Both had been stopped by Archmage Twilight Sparkle, apprentice to the princess, wielder of the Elements of Harmony and, presumably, other powers more eldritch still.  And now a great and terrible light shone in the north, displaying a power they knew they could not match.

So, when Twilight Sparkle walked the length of the hall, her eye newly missing, her face bearing the wounds of some unknown battle, they regarded her with a noxious mixture of hate and hope.  Hate because she was already a figure straight out of a legend, destined for great and terrible deeds that would disrupt their stable lives.

Hope because, when the proverbial shit hit the fan, when dead gods rose and strange magic shone forth, it was answered by Twilight Sparkle.

Luna could see that Twilight was aware of how the nobles regarded her, how she walked with purpose, head up, eye straight ahead to play to their expectations.  But there was something more to it as well, even compared to a few days before when Twilight had also burst uninvited into court.

There is some trace of regality in her bearing now, perhaps, Luna mused, or maybe it’s instead that a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, despite her injury.  Either way, no pony spoke or looked away from Twilight as she made her stately way across the hall and settled into the waiting chair just beside and below the princess’s throne.

In a clear almost lecturing tone, she spoke.  “The light is excess energy from an unraveling immortal spell.  When the energy of that spell has exhausted itself, a land called the Crystal Empire will have returned to the frozen north.  At that time, I will lead a team north to assess the situation onsite.  We will determine what is to be done with the new land when I return to Canterlot.  In the meantime, the royal guard will increase patrols and the palace will be restricted to authorized personnel.”

It was a good response, Twilight had answered their questions and been seen to do something productive.  The specific words and actions themselves were almost unimportant, it was the message the total package conveyed that mattered.  ‘The situation is under control, I will take care of it,’ is what Twilight was saying and it was exactly what the nobles wanted to hear.

Tension eased in the court as they understood that Twilight was claiming responsibility for the light.  They could dismiss it from their thoughts now and go back to their own concerns.  Twilight would handle it.

Of course, relief did not come quite so easily to Luna.  She knew that the burden of responsibility also rested on her shoulders.  Nevertheless, there was a certainty in this new Twilight that provided a measure of calm to Luna, a belief that the Crystal Empire would be dealt with and her sister would be saved.

A smaller echo of that calm came to Luna as she realized that Twilight would handling court for the day.  Watching petitioners come and go while Twilight dealt swiftly with their problems put her in mind of the way Celestia had described her student.  She had said that Twilight viewed interactions with other ponies as a transaction.  As the leader of court she had a clearly defined role: solve problems without letting the nobles have too much of what they wanted.  By contrast she felt adrift in ordinary conversations, uncertain of what role she should play.  For Twilight, a non-Pinkie Pie party was nigh unto hell, but presenting her thesis before 200 of Equestria’s greatest scholars presented no problem.

Luna shook herself from her musings and tried to focus on the court itself.  Sooner or later she was actually going to have to lead the court and here was a perfect opportunity to watch how her sister would have done it, albeit filtered through Twilight Sparkle’s interpretation of Celestia.

Slowly, as time wore on and ponies came and went Luna began to understand the rhythms of the court.  It was not unlike a scene she had seen on the far off Zebrican plains.  A pack of hyenas working together to bring down a large elephant.  One would nip at it on the right and when the larger animal turned to crush the offender another hyena would attack on the left, and so on and so forth.

So too would the nobles nip at Twilight, their pestering drawing her ire but never quite becoming egregious enough to be worth striking down and bearing the fallout the others would inflict.  Still Twilight was far cleverer than any elephant and more than a few nobles left without achieving their ends.

The whole spectacle just served to convince Luna that her idea of a few nights ago would indeed change things for the better.  However, she was not yet prepared and the time was not yet ripe so she shelved that thought and returned her attention to the court.

As Luna had been thinking court had been winding down and soon the last petitioner was leaving through the court doors.  The departing pony inadvertently let the doors slam shut with a crash, leading the doorman to grumble that it truly was not necessary to for the court doors to make noise every time they were used, and that he spent a great deal of time making sure that they could be opened and closed silently and he didn’t appreciate ponies rendering his hard work moot.

Together, Luna and Twilight departed the court for the princess’s study.  Twilight explained what she knew of the cause of her injury.  Then, with the aid of Sunlit Rooms, they finished off the affairs of state and put their minds to work researching both Celestia’s predicament and anything they could find on the Crystal Empire.

Poor Sunlit was run ragged making trips to the castle archives and when Spike joined them in the study he shared a long suffering look with the short of breath aide.  Alas, little progress was made that day and when evening fell they departed dispirited with the lack of success.


***


The next morning the dragons returned to court.

Spike was not in attendance, mostly because he still had not been told that a dragon claiming to be his mother had arrived in Canterlot.  Ordinarily the rumor mill would have quickly passed the knowledge along, but the light in the north had become the prime rumor before Spike could hear of the other dragons. Plus, Spike was not overly given to gossip anyway.

On the other hoof, the fact that Twilight had not told him was rather more surprising.  If asked, she would have claimed that it had slipped her mind sometime between the argument with Luna and gouging out her own eye.  This excuse would be true, but not the full truth.

As Twilight watched the two dragons slowly and respectfully make their way down the hall to the chair and throne where she and Luna sat, she forced herself to face the truth she was flinching away from.

In truth, she was afraid.  She might not have laid Spike’s egg herself, but she had hatched him and he was her closest family by blood and by sentiment.

The hatching of a dragon involved a sort of magical transference, an offering from the hatcher to the hatchling.  When a dragon hatched a dragon egg, a piece of soulfire budded off of the parent to light the soul of the hatchling, much like one might use a lit candle to light another.  Soulfire was the heart of a dragon.  It enabled a dragon’s fire breath and provided the energy to fuel their magic.

Since Spike had been hatched by Twilight, it was a piece of her magic that lit his soul and burned in his chest, making him a hybrid of sorts.  It gave him the kindness of a pony and allowed him to suppress his draconic instincts such as the urge to hoard, though those could come out under duress.  By his very nature, Spike would forever be caught between two worlds, obviously not a pony, but certainly not the same as other dragons either.  However, he had lived his entire life among ponies and so he was unsurprisingly curious about other dragons.  Many a night he and Twilight had searched through the Canterlot archives for records situations similar to his own, though nothing they found matched perfectly and they were never able to answer all of his questions.

It was due to the memory of those nights that Twilight, despite knowing the depth of their connection, couldn’t help worrying that the dragoness that had laid Spike’s egg might be able salve his curiosity and so forge a stronger connection to him.  Twilight dreaded the possibility that that dragoness might be able to persuade Spike to leave Equestria for the dragonlands to learn more about his kind.  Yet Twilight also couldn’t outright deny Spike this chance to learn about that neglected part of himself.  So, as the dragon’s made their way to the throne, Twilight’s gaze was cold but she held her tongue.

The shimmery serpentine blue dragon led this time and it spoke for the other dragon.  “Greetings, Princess of Night, Archmage.  May I present my companion, Iolite,” he nodded to the tall female purple dragon on his left.  “I am Simulacra Seven, commonly known as Sim.  As we were bidden we have spent the past three days meditating on our rudeness and now bitterly regret out actions.”  It’s voice high and androgynous, just shy of unctuous.  “Introspection is not sufficient, of course, to make redress for our transgression.  Therefore, we have brought a small token to demonstrate our remorse and desire to make amends.”

A glow suffused the scales of the blue dragon and when it faded a suit of armor hung in the air before it.  Overlapping scales, similar to those of a dragon shaped the back and connected across the spine, with two slits for wings to slip through.  Shell like, the scales wrapped around the body and would cover the wearers belly as well.  Strips of sharpened metal spooled around the wing holes, designed to fit over the edges of the wings similar to the griffon wingblades.  Greaves connected to the underside of the armor, covering the legs and ending in wickedly sharp claws.  A chest plate guarded the wearer’s front and an unattached helmet and neck guard with a hole and brace for a horn covered the head.  To a pony used to royal guard armor it was more elaborate, covering more of the body, and crueler, containing many sharp edges designed to attack rather than defend.

 It was also lavender with pink and green highlights.  And, just in case there was any doubt about who it was for, the chest plate had Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark emblazoned on the front.

Pleased with the expressions of shock from noble, princess, and Archmage alike, the blue dragon gave a high chuckle.  “This armor is made from mithril, mined and forged by Queen Tiamat herself.  There is very little in this world, mundane or magical, that can harm the wearer of this armor.”  It tapped on the cutie mark on the chestplate with one long dainty claw.  “She wanted you, Archmage, to have it specifically.  I believe her exact words were ‘consider it an early birthday present’.  Does this meet with your highness’s approval?”

“A princessly gift, is it not, Twilight Sparkle?” Luna asked, nodding approvingly.  Court might have been confusing to her, but formal reparations for an insult tendered had been a common custom when last she ruled.  In the old days, a suit of armor as an apology sent the message that the giver was willing to see the receiver strengthened without any guarantee that that strength would not be turned against the giver.  Adding the cost into consideration and the suit of armor represented one of the sincerest forms of apology, like a stallion buying his mare a pony-sized bouquet when he knows that he has well and truly screwed up.  “It meets with my approval,” Princess Luna formally declared.  “Let it be known that with this gift the debt of insult incurred three days ago is balanced.”

“Yes, it is very nice.”  Twilight rose from her seat and stepped forward to inspect it more closely.  She did indeed admire the craftsmanship that had gone into creating the armor, but something about it seemed odd, above and beyond the incongruity of giving a suit of armor to a peaceful scholar.  She pointed to the wing holes.  “If this armor was made for me why are there holes for wings?”

“If you asked that I was instructed to smile enigmatically.”  The blue dragon shrugged.  “Please take my response as having done so.”

The wing holes were indeed strange but there was something else about the armor that was bothering her.  She gave it another onceover noting the beautiful familiar colors, lavender, pink, and green and it clicked.

“You knew,” she accused Sim.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You supposedly came here to find her hatchling,” Twilight said, indicating Iolite.  “And yet this armor, made for me, includes the hatchling’s colors as well.  This could not have been constructed quickly and in any event you have not yet seen his coloring.  Therefore, you and your queen must have already known that the hatchling was with me.”

A peculiar expression came over the Sim’s face, half grimace half smile as it turned to meet the burning anger of the enraged dragoness.

“Is this true?” she asked, danger coloring her tone.  “Did you and the Queen truly know where my hatchling was for all these years?”

“I-”

“You must have known.  Even I had heard rumors of the Archmage of the ponies and the strange company she kept.  How much more must you have known, you snake!”

“And what of it?” it said, sharply cutting off her tirade.  “You gave the egg to the queen mother to use as she saw fit.  It is only by her forbearance that you were permitted to come seek it out.  Would you scoff at her kindness?”

“No, I just…” she trailed off, the fight going out of her as she hung her head.  Desperation crept into her tone.  “I just want to see my child,” she finished scarcely above a whisper.

Twilight felt the hardness in her heart melt slightly.  Whatever scheme the blue dragon and Queen Tiamat had devised, and Twilight was sure such a plan was indeed in motion, the dragoness before her was plainly sincere.  She seemed a kindred spirit in her sorrow.  It was easy to imagine Princess Celestia taking Spike away after he had hatched, claiming Twilight was too young to live with a dragon or that her magic or his was too unstable.  Another life where she had been raised without her faithful assistant was too painful to contemplate and that pain pushed upon her an unwanted empathy for the purple dragon’s plight.

While Twilight was thinking Luna had grown curious.  “Before we rule yea or nay to your request to visit the hatchling,” she began, “we would know the terms by which your queen gave up the hatchling’s egg.”

A hint of triumph flickered so quickly in the blue dragon’s eye that none could be certain it was actually there.  It spoke with precisely the appropriate levels of surprise and confusion.  “But your highness, did you not yourself approach our queen and offer an exchange for it?”

Ponyfeathers!  Luna chastised herself.  Obviously, Celestia must have acquired it, how else would it have come to be used in an entrance test for her school?  But now, by asking I’ve made it clear that I don’t know and lent credence to their assumption that I am not the pony that bargained for the egg.  She thought fast for a way to hide the truth.

“Of course I did,” Luna said aloud.  “I was merely curious if the details of our exchange had been revealed to all dragons.”  Brilliant, what a perfect save Luna!

“Perhaps.  But regardless, surely you do not want the details revealed before your entire court,” it said, waving its claw broadly at the watching ponies.

“I see dragonkind still knows the value of discretion,” Luna said approvingly.  Inside she was cursing the dragon’s deflection.  Still, if Celestia had chosen to keep it secret it would be better not to reveal the specifics of the deal prematurely, particularly as she still did not know the details herself.  “I am somewhat inclined to grant your request, with certain restrictions.  Archmage Sparkle, this affects you far more personally, what is your opinion?”

“Hmm?”  Twilight looked up, startled out of her thoughts.  “Ah, yes.  I agree.  It would be appropriate to let my brother’s kin speak to him, so long as I introduce them.”

“Is this acceptable to you?” Luna asked.

The blue dragon looked about to object when Spike’s mother spoke up.  “Yes.  That’s fine.  Just as long as I get to speak with my hatchling.”

“Very well.  Then after court is adjourned you and Twilight will go to see the hatchling.  You are welcome to wait and observe the court in your role as diplomats,” Luna offered.  “Refreshments and jewels can be brought.”

Accepting the current situation, Sim bowed, though unlike the previous time its tail did not touch the ground.  “Thank you for your generosity, Princess.  We humbly accept.”

The dragons, were escorted to the side and servants were sent to bring whatever they might desire.  As they were getting settled Twilight penned a hasty note to Spike, advising him that they would be having guests after court ended.  A part of her wanted to tell him everything by letter to avoid the difficult conversation, but she knew it would be better face to face.

“Can you send this to Spike please?” she asked Luna in an undertone.  Luna, having been connected to Spike’s fire by Celesita, nodded and the message disappeared in a puff of green smoke.  That settled, Twilight turned her attention back to slapping down the impertinent nobles.  Unfortunately, her heart just wasn’t in it any longer and her eyes kept drifting over to the dragon’s table.


***


After court ended Twilight had no choice but to lead the dragons towards her tower and the baby dragon it contained.  They were all silent as they walked.  Iolite was clearly worried over her first meeting with her hatchling.  Twilight worried about Spike’s reaction to the dragoness his egg had originally come from.  Sim, realizing it was between two emotionally tense and magically powerful beings, worried about itself if it made the mistake of choosing to talk.

As the strange group walked on, Twilight’s mind turned over and over, trying to figure out how to break the news to Spike.

She’s your mom, Spike.  No.

She laid your egg, Spike.  No.

I’m worried you will want to leave me for your own species.  Definitely not.

Twilight dashed away the beginning traces of frustrated tears in her eye.  She forced her mind to keep working, everything was better with a proper plan, after all.

The phrases tumbled one after the other in her mind, searching for the right one to tell Spike what he needed to know without being harsh or driving him away.  And then there was no more time.  They stood before the door at the base of the tower she shared with Spike.

Moving on autopilot, Twilight opened the door and called up to Spike, “Guests are here!”

“Coming!” He called back.  A moment passed as the dragons made their way inside.  Spike finished with whatever task had been occupying his attention and appeared on the landing at the top of the staircase.  He froze as the dragons came into view.  “Twilight,” he said, a trace of fright in his tone, “what’s going on?”

Twilight opened her mouth, still unsure of quite what to say.  A large purple and pink shape shot past her up the stairs.  Before anypony or anydrake could move Iolite had swept Spike up in a desperate hug.  “My hatchling, oh my hatchling,” she sobbed over his shoulder.

“Twilight?” Spike’s voice skirled upwards with a rising note of panic.

Firing off a quick teleport, Twilight appeared on the top of the stairs where Iolite held Spike.  “She’s a… she’s your…relative,” Twilight managed, still stumbling over exactly what to say.  “Your egg came from her.”

“W-What?” he stammered.

Iolite finally released him and sat back on her haunches, holding his shoulders in her claws.  “It’s true.  It was for the crown, our version of your princess, but I’ve regretted giving in to her demands for years.  And now look at you!  So precocious you can already be left alone,” she practically cooed with pride.

“Is that not common?” Twilight asked.

“Remember that dragon life spans are exceedingly long,” Sim said, having followed the others up the stairs at a more reasonable pace.  “Most hatchlings his age would be considered infants, not yet allowed to leave their mother’s side.”

Some part of Twilight felt a guilty twinge of joy at those words.  She knew how much Spike relished the independence and responsibility he had earned.  Taking it away so that he could cling to the metaphorical skirts of a dragon he had never met would not appeal to him.

“But where are you wings?” Iolite asked, having examined Spike fully.  “They should have started to come in by your age.”

“Wings?” Spike had already looked dumbstruck at the sudden appearance of a dragon who was apparently related to him.  The mention of wings just sent him spiraling further into confusion.

“Of course, living with ponies you must not have had them opened.  Here, hold still.”  Iolite moved around to his back, one sharp claw extending with a snikt.  Her claw moved once, twice, thrice, and Spike cried out in pain.

Immediately, a purple glow surrounded Twilight’s horn.  Sim moved to intercept but his reflexes weren’t quite fast enough.  With a burst of energy Twilight broke through the natural anti-magic defenses of a fully grown dragoness.  Her magic surrounded Iolite and threw her away from Spike sending her tumbling backwards down the stairs.  At almost the same time the magenta glow gently surrounded Spike and pulled him to her.  She spun in place, putting herself between the two dragons and Spike, and prepared another offensive spell.

“Wait!” Sim called, raising open claws in a conciliatory gesture and pointedly making no attempt to reach for its magic.  “The hatchling has not been harmed.  Look at his back.”

Twilight eyed it suspiciously but it met her gaze without hesitation.  Not taking her eye off it she slowly backed up and spared a quick glance down.  There were two long thin vertical incisions running down the middle third of Spike’s back.  Instead of blood she could see traces of a leathery green fabric-like substance.  At his neck was a small horizontal incision which did bleed slightly.

“The cut as his neck?” she asked.

“There’s an innate blockage in a dragon’s nervous system that prevents them from using their wings when they are too young,” Sim explained.  “There would be a risk of permanent damage.  The parent removes it when the time has come for the hatchling to learn to fly.  Knowledge of this is not widespread because it is arguably a weakness, but as the guardian of a hatchling you have the right to know.”

She looked down.  “Spike, how do you feel?”

“Really confused.  Also it stings a little.”  He stretched, wriggling different muscles in his back.  “I feel like I can almost move something back there.”

“Pull his wings out of the slots,” Iolite called as she made her way back up the stairs.  A tumble like that wouldn’t hurt Spike, let alone a fully grown dragon, but Twilight’s success at using magic on her had clearly left her rattled and she regarded the Archmage with a newfound wariness and respect.

Twilight’s magenta aura carefully surrounded Spike’s folded wings and gently pulled the pair out.

“Hey I can feel them now!” Spike said happily.  The wings were dark green in color and wrinkled.  Though that was partially because they were wet, like the wings of a butterfly that had just emerged from a cocoon.  Twilight could see the muscles on Spike’s back tense and flex as he figured out how to move the new limbs.  At last he managed to fully extend the pair, just a bit less than his body length from tip to tip.  They were bat-like, with bony ridges along the top and long leathery folds that hung down in between three cartilage partitions on either wing.

“Awesome!”  Spike craned his neck backward trying to get a good look.

Smiling slightly at Spike’s exuberance, Twilight turned to Iolite.  “I’m sorry.  I thought you were hurting him.”

Iolite shook her head.  “I would have done the same.  It was a fitting reaction to somedrake hurting your hatchling.  I am pleased to know he has had such a guardian all this time.”

 Twilight bristled at Iolite’s use of the past tense.  She started to respond but the sight of Iolite cooing over Spike’s new wings stopped her.  Watching the two of them, so similar in appearance, talking excitedly about wings and flight like a mother and son gave her pause even as it wounded her heart.  As Iolite instructed Spike in the movement and training of his new appendages, Twilight couldn’t help but wonder what else of Spike’s dragon heritage that he might miss out on if he stayed with her.  And, on the other hoof, she wondered if she could bear to let him go.