December 13th, 1000 Domina Solaria
Spike stares out into the white void, his eyes unfocused and barely watching the hills go by. The repetitive clank of the red-eye train rolling along fades into the background, only really noticed when somepony talks a little louder than normal. He sighs again, a deep, forlorn sigh at the thought of what he is missing. Could be missing. He doesn’t even know all the things he is missing!
The hills beyond gradually transition to a lush evergreen forest, blanketed in snow. The morning sun hurts his eyes as it glitters off the snow, thousands upon thousands of ever shifting pinpricks. None by themselves are enough to make him wince, but when they gather together it bothers him enough to get him to turn away, if briefly. Just like every little thing that bothers him about growing up with ponies.
Spike had never questioned his place in life before. Well, maybe a little when Twilight joined the herd, but still. Even from the start, his life had been easy. Get up in the morning, cry a little, get fed from a bottle. Slip into the pack on Twilight’s back, go to school. He learned language from the ponies, even getting his name from trying to pronounce the name of Twilight’s doll. Over time, the routine changed, as he started doing more and more things for himself. He became a study partner for Twilight, even on subjects that went far above his tiny baby dragon head. She didn’t care, she loved him regardless.
But now, for all things changed, they really stayed the same. He still gets up in the morning at the crack of dawn with more than a little grumbling. He still eats breakfast, but often cooks for Twilight, and Doug or Sweetie Belle whenever they sleep over or vice versa. Twilight bounces ideas off of him, but more and more relies on Doug and his superior interest in magic, even if he doesn’t know as much as the dragon who’s picked up bits and pieces for years.
So where does that leave him?
“How’s our little Spikey-Wikey?”
Spike merely stares outside. Rain now drives against the roof of the train, a hard, freezing rain that he can almost feel penetrating his scales, chilling his inner core and eliciting a long yawn. Cold water slides against the window, distorting his sight and frosts over the glass after every breath. Out of the corner of his eye a purple mane turns, shakes a little and then fades into the background.
He should be out there, braving the rain and cold and snow. Twilight tells him that hardship - like having to clean the dishes after lunch, or dusting the books in the library, or not getting his favorite blanket because it’s in the wash - builds character. By his calculations, he’s got plenty of character!
“Hey, Spike,” Sweetie Belle quietly says as the rain clears, brushing the pink side of her soft mane against his head. He sighs as she lays next to him in that pony loaf a dragon could never - no, scratch that - would never imitate. Purple mane spills off the other side, right where he would have put his arm if he felt like holding her.
“What’cha thinking about?”
Tears threaten to come to his eyes. Dragons aren’t supposed to want to hold onto soft, cuddly things like ponies! He sniffs, doing his best to hold it in. Dragons aren’t supposed to cry! They’re tough, ferocious, fearsome monsters!
Then why does he want to hold onto this filly next to him so badly?
His claw comes up an inch, before dropping back down.
Sweetie Belle doesn’t seem to notice, merely staring outside as the mountains to the south begin rising higher and higher, tiny spots of black making their way up and down the snow covered caps.
Maybe he should have walked. He would have made it. Living like a pony, it just makes life too easy! He feels like he has no challenges, no opportunities to prove himself, because they can just wave a horn or a hoof and *poof*, whatever you need is there!
Dragons did things differently. He watches as the train slowly catches up to the flight of dragons. A brief tussle in the sky, one of the dragons fouling up the other’s flight with their wake. And the ensuing aerial showdown, the cheers of the surrounding dragons audible even over the train as it chews mile after mile. Miles that he should have been traveling.
“That does it!” Spike shouts to the window. “I know what I have to do!”
His epiphany is cut short by the shrill whistle of the train, Vanhoover’s train station coming into view as the brakes screech.
“We’re here~!” sings Rarity, practically dancing on her hooves as the doors open and finally able to leave the cramped train car. A single saddlebag rests on her back, her winter garb already in place.
“Come on, Spike!” Sweetie Belle cheerfully yells as she hops down, Doug helping her strap into one of the Apple’s sleds. Stacks of luggage sit on the sled, though each of the Crusaders gets a similar arrangement. Rainbow Dash flies off ahead to claim their campsite, as the small city is nearly overflowing with ponies, with the occasional sighting of a griffon, minotaur, or teenage dragon. Spike can’t help but gape at the colorful crowds, the loud grinding of wheel and hoof against the already packed snow, the heady aroma of the Tarragon herbs.
Spike’s mouth waters as he spots a pony vendor offering a ‘Sweet Apple Acres Special’ to a red scaled dragon with yellow underbelly and orange ridged scales along his head and back. The dragon considers for a second before pulling out a fist sized fire ruby, his large white fangs dripping with anticipation! The vendor grins, pulling out seven more of the ‘specials’. Spike gasps; that’s Garble! Lead singer and guitarist in Dragonfarce!
Spike races forwards, only for Garble to take off, tearing half the wrapper off his meal and devouring the brown stick inside. Spike sighs as the colorful wrapper flutters down, catching the paper depicting a smiling pig waving at the camera. Behind Miss Pigglyton is a bottle of cider splashing brown liquid, and a long shot of Sweet Apple Acres.
“Come on, Spike!” Sweetie Belle calls, waiting for him while the rest of the herd makes their way south. “We don’t wanna be left behind!”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Spike says, slipping the paper away as he watches Garble disappear into the mountains. At least they are going the same direction. Spike grabs the couple of bags left for him to carry, trudging along with Sweetie Belle as they get to the campsite. Really, just a flat clearing with a few pre-dug holes.
“Look, Fluttershy,” Doug calls as he and Applejack unpack the larger suitcases, “you don’t have to go to Tarrapalooza-
“Tarrapalooza!”
“-if you don’t want to. There are lots of trails out here that you can wander around, see the winter critters that live in these parts.” He pulls out the first of the four tents, passing it off to Twilight and Trixie to set up.
“I know,” Fluttershy quietly says, coming out from hiding under a snow-covered blanket, “but what if I stumble across a d-d-dragon while I’m walking around?”
“Well, I’d introduce myself.” Doug looks around at the various fillies playing in the snow, Rainbow working to clear out a few clouds above to keep from snowing more on them, and Pinkie Pie as she gets some food ready, and Rarity as she supervises. “Dragons know not to eat anything that talks back. Or they should.” He pauses for a second. "Maybe running away and screaming for your life is the best bet."
Fluttershy can't help but smirk. "I am good at that. But, um, maybe later,” Fluttershy quickly says as she disappears into the first tent as soon as it gets set up.
Doug sighs, opening up the next suitcase. His eyebrows narrow as he pulls out a green dragon costume, studded with gems and big enough for three ponies to fit inside. “What is this?”
“Oh, that?” Rarity calls as she walks over. She quickly pulls up some suitcases, making a wall blocking them off from the rest of the herd. “That is my fabulous creation. Do you like it?”
Doug looks it over. It even has eye holes for the pony walking in front, and wing holes complete with zipper. “I didn’t know they had cos-playing events here.”
“Oh, darling,” Rarity says, shaking her head. She whispers into his ear, “That’s for us when we follow after Spike. You heard how much he wants to figure out what it’s like to be a dragon. And we’re afraid he’s going to hurt his cutesy wutesy head!” Rarity glances around, a worried look coming over her face. “Speaking of Spike, where is he?”
Spike hustles along one of the hard packed snow trails, following in the many hoofsteps of previous ponies. He keeps going the direction Garble was flying, though the dense trees make it difficult to make out anything besides the trail he should be following. The path takes a turn, now leading him away from his intended destination, wherever that could be. He steadfastly marches on, looking for a gap in the trees.
After several minutes he finds one, the snow down what could charitably be called a path otherwise untouched. He glances back; maybe he should have told somepony where he was going.
Nah. They probably won’t even notice that he’s missing. Serves them right, too. Besides, how is he going to find out who he is with them watching over him every second of the day?
Spike turns back to the opening, missing the glimpse of pink and purple trailing through the trees. He pushes through the lighter path, spiny branches roughly scraping against his scaly hide. Eventually he comes to a long slope upwards, mysteriously clear of trees, the snow getting sparser as his eyes trace upwards.
Then he spots them.
Dragons.
Two massive adult dragons lazily lay near the top of the ridge, asleep or watching whatever is going on inside. “Oh, jeez,” Spike mutters to himself. He can hear cheers from inside, and he hastily makes his way up the mountainside, keeping well clear of any of the adults.
Spike peeks over the ridge, spotting Garble and the rest of Dragonfarce! Next to the group of seven teenage dragons is their instruments, like they are getting ready to practice for their headline tonight, and a giant pile of gems! Now, that's more his speed, and taste, too!
“You got it?” loudly exclaims Nickelbangs, the tall purple dragon shaking his yellow hair out of his eyes just long enough to spot the brightly colored packages in Garble’s claws.
“Sure did!” Garble tosses each of the six other dragons a Sweet Apple Acres Special, keeping the last one unopened as he finishes off his own.
“You get any of the deluxes?” asks Clump, the fat brown dragon already finishing off his while the other dragons take more measured bites and looking expectantly at Garble.
“Nah, I like the pork ones better,” Garble says with a sneer, finishing off the rest of his first meal. He pulls out the second one, about to rip it open to the bedevilment of Clump as he spots the small purple dragon coming down the ridge.
“Um, excuse me?” shouts Spike as he nearly tumbles down the ridge. “Hi! My name is Spike!”
“Sorry, dude,” Whip says as he stands between Spike and the other six, the green dragon’s grossly oversized tail swinging forebodingly behind him. Spikes unsheath from it with a loud ‘schwing’ as he growls, “This area is for dragons only.”
“Aww, but you guys are my favorite!” Spike exclaims, then looks down at himself. “Hey! I am a dragon!”
“Yeah, bro, you’re cool,” Whip says. He flicks his head past Spike. “I was talking to her.”
“Um,” Sweetie Belle says, doing her best to not appear as utterly frightened as she feels, with both adult dragons turning their heads to stare at her. The rocks under her hooves make it hard to keep her balance, tumbling down and occasionally knocking into the dragon’s clawed feet. “I-I’m with Spike?”