“I’d stop you.”
Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide, and nearly bugged out of her head. From over there, behind Scald and to the right, she frantically started drawing her hoof across her throat. Stop! Stop!
Scald looked bewildered for a moment, before his frown returned. “You? You would ‘stop’ me?”
A moment of confused silence passed quickly, and Scald let out a loud, hearty roar of a laugh. It echoed around the mountain peak far too long before he returned his scowl to the puny kobold beneath him. “You. You believe you could stop me,” he said, not a question, and his brow creased into an expression of skeptical puzzlement. “You are not even a dragon yet, kobold, and you believe you could stop me?” he growled as he towered over Spike. “Perhaps we need to revisit our lesson on the importance of strength and power.”
Spike drew himself up another inch, his eyes coals of burning, confident defiance. “Maybe you need the lesson more than me. I’m not just some kobold. After Ember? I’m the most powerful dragon alive.”
Stopstopstopstop! Rainbow’s frantic hoof gestures were a blur now, her face a masque of horror.
A wide, dangerous grin broke out on Scald’s lips. “Are you indeed? And so how would you stop me, hmm? You plan to fight me? I could crush you with my little claw.”
“I don’t need to fight you. I don’t even need to lift a claw,” said Spike, adopting an air of supreme confidence, but never letting his gaze leave Scald’s. He couldn’t blink now. Too much at stake. “I could stop you with a word.”
“A... word!”
“A word,” he said slowly, “Just one word. A word I learned a long time ago.” He produced the scroll-and-quill he always had on hand for Twilight List Emergencies. “In fact, I’ve known it since I was hatched, in one form or another.” With the quill he began to write, slowly.
“You believe a word could stop me? What is this? A spell? A kind of magic?”
“Sort of,” admitted Spike, marking the clean lines on the page, big and clear. “It’s a powerful word. It may be the most powerful word in all of existence. And I know it,” he said with a confident smile as he finished up. “It’s only four letters. You might even have heard of it.”
Scald’s frown relented a little and he adopted a dripping, sneering tone. “Hah. A simple word you claim gives you immense power? Let me guess... love!” he drawled, as though wanting to spit the word from his tongue lest it leave a bad taste. “You are a fool if you believe ‘love’ will stop me.”
“Not love. Close though,” said Spike. He finished inking and put the quill away, then turned the scroll around with a flourish. There, held up so that Scald could see, in big, unmistakeable letters...
HELP
A flash of green fire consumed the scroll. A wisp of smoke curled and darted away.
Scald looked down upon Spike. “You scribe a word so that you can burn it to ashes, and you believe this grants you strength?!” he roared. “If this is a joke, it is poor. If it is symbolism, it is flawed. Either way, you are about to be taught a valuable lesson about the true meaning of strength, kobold,” hissed Scald. He brought a foreclaw forward, placing it right in front of Spike, his index digit curled, tensed and restrained by his thumb as though ready to simply flick Spike from the mountaintop with nonchalant ease. “A flash of whim, a twitch of muscle and your entire fate is altered forever. This is strength. This is power, not some child’s game!” His voice dropped to a low growl. “I trust the lesson is clear?”
“You just wait,” said Spike, unflinching. “And you’ll see exactly how powerful I am.”
In the shadowed city far below, in the window of an opulent bedroom in a high tower, a light appeared, hastily lit.
“I’m not surprised you don’t fully get it. See... that word? It’s so much more than just a word. It’s the time I saved a friend from a giant monster wolf. It’s the time I saved an empire from disaster, twice. It’s the time I helped save this entire kingdom from being erased from history...”
In the city, more lights appeared at more windows. Sounds of commotion and hurried activity.
“It’s everything I’ve ever done to help my friends and the ponies I care about...”
More commotion. Sounds of shouting. Orders being barked.
“And it’s everything they’ll do to help me,” growled Spike.
In the silence that followed, before Scald could make reply, a bell rang out. Loud. Clear. Deep. Fast. An alarm.
Scald heard it. “What is this...?”
Before he could say more there was a blinding flash of searing light. In the air beyond the plateau a huge golden sphere seemed to appear from nothing and grew as the air it displaced seemed to sizzle and writhe, kicking up a strong gust. The sphere expanded to fill half of Scald’s vision before as quickly as it had appeared it vanished leaving enormous temporary black afterimages that danced behind his eyes. The whole sky brightened as the sun was forcibly dragged into the sky from its slumber below the horizon, and the moon about to set was hauled skyward too, blazing with a fierce pearl light.
And hovering in the air where the intense golden glow had been... an army. Hundreds and hundreds of golden pegasi-drawn chariots half-surrounding the mountain peak in a perfect stacked formation, columns twenty ponies deep and dozens upon dozens of rows of armoured warriors and mages, plate armour gleaming and speartips razor-sharp. And at the head of the army, two Princesses. The sun and moon blazed high behind them, shining directly onto the mountain top, into the eyes of all those who might call themselves foe.
They saw Spike, pressed back against the edge of the terrifying cliff. They saw Rainbow Dash trapped in a cage of stone. They saw one, large scarlet dragon looming over both who turned to regard them with fury. They saw him very clearly indeed.
“STAND AWAY FROM HIM!” commanded Celestia, enhanced voice ringing out loud and clear.
Scald’s annoyance seemed to peak. Slowly he straightened, unfurled his wings and beat them once, twice, and was airborne. He hovered only a few meters above the face of the plateau, just high enough that he was not being looked down upon by the royal sisters, and he fumed. “Who are you to demand anything of me? Leave and go back to cowering in your city while I allow it.”
“We will not! Return our friends and begone!” yelled Luna in challenge, and such provocation Scald could not resist.
A cruel, lopsided smirk turned upon his maw, his upper lip curling to reveal a sharp fang. “Do not say I didn’t give you fair warning...” He reared his head and drew a deep, deep breath.
“Contain!” barked Celestia, her horn lighting and joined at once by that of her sister. In a flash, a transparent sphere of shimmering gold appeared around the mighty scarlet-scaled dragon, with forks of electric-blue skittering and crackling across its surface. Scald unleashed an enormous gout of violet fire that was nonetheless blocked, and roiled against the inside of his new spherical prison. He had a moment to appear stunned as the flames evaporated, and he studied the orb that enclosed and now suspended him in midair.
With a furied roar he lashed out with a long, sharp claw, expecting to pierce the fragile-looking barrier. After all, there was no thickness to it at all. But as soon as he made contact, those sparks of blue lightning flashing at random across the surface redirected and converged at the point of impact, sending a surprising, painful jolt throughout his whole body. Scald recoiled in shock, perhaps having felt actual pain for the first time in a long, long while. The sudden reversal in his fortune – the irony of it – was not lost on him and he glowered with eyes filled with rage and vengeance. “Oh, you have made a grave mistake. You cannot hold me here forever... and when I am free, my vengeance will be terrible.”
“We can hold you for as long as necessary,” stated Luna. “A thousand years if need be.”
“And doing what is necessary to protect our friends will never be a mistake,” countered Celestia, an angry frown of her own adorning her brow.
As if on cue, at that moment, Ember emerged from the cave, no doubt coming to see what all the commotion was about. If she was at all surprised to see a horde of armoured ponies bearing weapons led by the two princesses of the realm and an entrapped, enraged Scald caught within a hovering magical bubble... well it didn’t show in the least. Instead her attention slipped to Rainbow Dash’s cage and she walked over to it, casually propped herself against one of the thick, angled pillars of rock, and leaned into it with her shoulder to watch the scene before her with the disinterested expression of someone waiting for something to be over so they can carry on with their day. Dropping her voice to a casual half-whisper she asked Dash, “Why are you still here?” Then seemed to focus on Spike stood right at the cliff-edge squaring up to Scald, and her brain made a few deductions. “Ugh... he’s an idiot,” she despaired.
Scald had not seen her arrival and nor it appeared had Celestia or Luna, their collective attention on each other, and Spike still at the cliff’s edge. Spike, though, noted Ember appear and adopt her casual lean against Dash’s cage, but gave her no more attention than a brief moment of eye-contact as he looked back up at Scald.
“You still think I’m not stronger than you?” he asked. “One word, Scald. That’s all I needed. One word, and you’re at my mercy. One word and I have the strength of an entire nation behind me. You say that depending on others makes you weak? Are you not seeing this?”
Scald roared with cruel, mirthless laughter which degenerated into a growl, then into a low snarl. “Do you not yet see your folly, kobold? Perhaps an entire nation of ponies has a combined strength greater than one dragon. But you would wager a nation of ponies against a nation of dragons?!” he seethed, then his voice dropped to a low, spitting hiss. “We can burn this entire army to cinders and it will be the work of moments! We can leave this entire land a smoking, charred ruin and it shall be the work of hours!”
Spike allowed himself a little, cocksure grin. “We?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Who’s ‘we’?” asked Spike. “Guess you don’t know dragons too well, huh?” He gave a knowing little nod upwards, beyond Scald to the peak of the mountain behind him.
Scald stared down at him. “What?” Then he twisted within his prison, neck whipping round to regard the remaining dragons atop the mountain. And what anger there still was on his face was replaced by shock and surprise.
The largest of them was dozing in the newly-raised sun, another watched the scene below with an expression of only vague interest, alternating between paying attention and languidly searching the southern horizon with a neutral expression. And two of them were... were laughing! The one called Ash was even making digs at how ‘Great Scald’ had been ‘caught by puny ponies!’ to a raucous series of his own guffaws!
“How does helping a dragon weak enough to get himself captured by ponies... benefit them?” asked Spike, twisting the knife. Oh, whatever hierarchy the dragons had in terms of showing strength, Scald had most certainly been taken down several pegs. His face fell into an expression of shock and horror so satisfying to see on his usual arrogant features, as he finally seemed to come to terms with the reality of his situation. A dragon so used to ‘mastering his own destiny,’ alone and trapped, his only potential allies indifferent to his fate. Shock turned to desperation and quickly anger, and he thrashed inside the bubble, lashing out in fevered panic with claws, teeth and tail, electric bolts of lightning sizzling and snapping as they zapped him over and over again until he finally relented, the pain and fatigue becoming too much.
Scald’s eyes narrowed at Spike. “You are a fool! You believe these creatures are your allies? Your ‘friends’? That they care about you as if you were one of them?!”
“They’re here, aren’t they?”
“You believe they are here for you? You have simply given them an advantage they wish to press! They are not here for you, they are here for themselves!” cried Scald. “Did you not heed my words? You are a dragon. They do not care for you. You will grow and they will fear you! They will hate you! They will drive you away!”
“Maybe. And... if it comes to that?” said Spike with a sigh, “I’ll leave. Because I care about my friends, and I would never—”
But he was interrupted. By Celestia.
“What do you know of it?!” she yelled at Scald, one of only very few occasions Spike could recall where he heard true emotion – true anger – in her voice. “You believe we fear Spike because one day he will grow? The first time I saw him, within moments of him hatching, he had grown tall enough to put a hole in the ceiling of a castle tower! It does not matter to me – to us! – what size he may achieve: we will adapt. We will make allowances for him and I do not care how arduous a task that may one day end up being – Spike is a dragon but more than that he has always been a good friend to Equestria and to me, and I will ensure there will always be a place for him here if he wishes!”
And for the second time in as many minutes, Scald had to register surprise.
Spike used the moment to speak up, addressing Scald now in a slightly softer, less confrontational tone as he took several steps towards him. “I’m a dragon, and I do have friends who care about me. That’s what makes me strong. Stronger than you, ultimately. But here’s the thing... what if I told you you could have this too?”
“What... are you talking about?” Scald’s eyes narrowed and his brow darkened. “You have a very odd way of gloating, kobold.”
“I don’t really do gloating. No, I’m serious: what if there was some dragon out there who you could count on to come through for you, no matter what? Wouldn’t you want that right about now?”
Scald’s eyes narrowed again. “There are none. I am beholden to no-one, and there are none who owe me favours.”
“It’s not about favours. You don’t think there’s a single dragon out there who cares about what happens to you? Who’d go out of their way to be there for you, to maybe get you out of a jam like this?”
A long, uncertain, suspicious pause before...
“He’s talking about me,” answered Ember finally, pushing herself off the pillar on which she’d been leaning.
Scald’s neck snapped round and down, taken completely by surprise. “I— M-my Lo—?” he stammered.
Oh, but the look Ember gave him back. A gaze of cold fury, a stern rebuke and a silent but powerful order all rolled into one. Shut up.
With an eerie calmness, Ember strode forward toward the centre of the plateau and suddenly all noise save for the gusting wind seemed to die away. The eyes of every dragon and pony turned as one to regard her, necks shifting and heads turning, watching, waiting. By her very participation she had altered the balance of power: this was her show now. Even the Princesses could only watch and wait as Ember walked in silence, the look on her blue-scaled face somewhere between annoyed and angry.
But Ember’s gaze didn’t alight on the Princesses. Nor Scald, hovering above her. In fact it fixed firmly and unwaveringly on Spike and he felt a little bead of sweat tickle the back of his neck as he looked up at her with a newly nervous grin as she marched straight toward him. Ember strode right up and without warning jabbed him square in the chest with her index claw, sending him a step backwards off balance and hard enough to leave a residual dull pain. “You’re an idiot,” she growled.
She took a step back, raising her head and commanding the attention of every single creature on the summit as completely as if a spotlight shone on her. Her gaze travelled to Scald, suspended pathetically twenty feet in the air above her head, his face a satisfying mask of worry and confusion, and then to Celestia and Luna hovering on broad, feathered wings, horns alight. With unflinching determination she met each of their gazes, and finally spoke.
“Let him go.”
There was no anger, but there was a command. An order that was expected to be followed. And in the space of a moment the remaining dragons on the peak above shifted and rose onto their limbs, heads low, necks and tails arrow-straight with the odd fang bared. Like a pack of dogs, waiting.
It began to dawn on the Royal Sisters that they had little choice but to acquiesce. The immediate danger to Spike was past and they could not remove Scald from the mountaintop without the dragons becoming violent in consequence. And if the dragons attacked en masse both sisters would need their magic at their full disposal to give the Guard a fighting chance, not focused on containing one single dragon. Celestia drew a deep breath, shared a reluctant glance with her sister, and then the light in her horn died, followed by that of her younger sibling.
The force-field around Scald faded and he dropped several feet before he realised he needed to use his own wing-power to stay aloft. His wings extended and he beat them allowing him to land back on the plateau with only a modest amount of lost grace. Emboldened by the fact that he had an ally – and that his ally was the most powerful dragon in the world! – his face contorted into a snarl and he glanced round at Ember, eager to obey any order to leap headlong into the battle that was to come now that he was free. And so was surprised when she only glowered at him furiously in response. Don’t. That order was very clear.
The ponies in the formation all hefted shields, adopting defensive postures and scanning the peak and the plateau, eyes darting, waiting for the direction of the first assault. Every set of ears strained, waiting to hear the order to attack, however faint, that would signal the onslaught. The dragons bristled, spines along their backs standing prouder like hackles rising, the ponies’ defensive preparations like a red rag to a bull or a scurrying mouse to a cat. But like well-trained hounds they did nothing until bidden by their stoic master, the order to begin the slaughter delayed inexplicably, even though they faced certain victory. The air seemed to become thick with fraught tension. Ponies and dragons: two incredible forces, one of steel and magic, the other of fire and fury, each battle-ready and willing to fight at the next moment, each with nerves as tightly drawn as a crossbow cord, but each disciplined behind their commanders as Pony Princesses locked eyes with the Lord of All Dragons, all of them awaiting a single terrible command... the width of a mere word between themselves and war. Even Scald, perhaps sensing the importance of the moment, waited.
Stillness followed, drawn out from moment into moment. An unrelaxing calm before the inevitable storm.
The silence stretched on, and as it did, Spike smiled, the first one on the plateau to relax. He knew. He had been nervous, yes, but he knew. The Princesses would never order an attack unless there was no other choice, and right now there was another choice – even if that choice was inaction. In this stalemate, there was peace, and they would have it persist until there was no other way.
Ember could only have suspected, not known for certain, that the Princesses would not order the pony forces to commit to battle first. But that uncertainty didn’t matter: her forces were dominant and she had no need to initiate a first strike against an army that – though impressive in its size and scope – was no real threat to her or her dragons. And so the impasse lingered.
Neither side needed to fight. Celestia and Luna would never choose to fight. In fact the only variable in the whole equation that left it adding up to war was whether Ember might want to attack. A variable guessed at by many but known for certain only to herself, and to Spike. And when after a few more moments Ember was satisfied that the ponies weren’t going to be even more foolish than Spike had already been she relaxed too, and gave a subtle nod. She looked up at Scald, his muscles still tensed and ready to launch himself into battle, and with a very direct glare caught his eye, and gave the subtlest of nods to the cage behind her. “Let her go.”
Scald looked at Ember with surprise, the command not the one he was expecting to hear. “My Lord? I don’t—?”
“Let her go,” pressed Ember, though her gaze cooled, making it clear she wasn’t prepared to repeat her order a third time.
Scald’s eyes widened in surprise, but he refused to voice further objection. Obeying, he turned and reached out with a claw the size of a dining table, grasped one of the angled stone pillars he had earlier driven into the mountain rock, and pulled it smoothly free as though it were a toothpick.
With the newfound gap in the cage made, Dash stepped out, finally free. As she stepped cautiously towards Ember the dragoness gave a nod skywards, towards the ranks of flying pegasi and their chariots. Dash ignored her gesture though, and trotted on past, straight over to Spike and stood protectively next to and slightly-in-front-of him, looking back at Ember with an uncertain, suspicious expression and subtly flexing her wings, getting blood flowing back and ready to give Spike a quick exit if this still went south somehow. Ember rolled her eyes. Okay, whatever. She looked again at Celestia and Luna still hovering over her. “She’s unharmed,” she explained.
Another moment dragged on in silence but the tension seemed to ease by a fraction. The dragons atop the summit settled back down, albeit a little more restless than before, and in response gold-plated shields were lowered, just a little.
Celestia broke from her position at the head of her army and fluttered toward the plateau, slowly and careful not to provoke. She alighted on her hooves next to Rainbow and Spike, and gave them both a worried, questioning look up and down. Rainbow Dash turned to look up at her, and glances and nods were exchanged between her and Celestia. Confirmation that she was, as promised, okay. Celestia raised her head again to look at Ember, stood alone and distant across the plateau, a definite gulf between them.
“Thank you,” she said, and dipped her head respectfully.
Ember sighed a weary, resigned sigh, her arms half-splaying for a moment before falling limp at her side in an I-give-up gesture. She couldn’t even bring herself to be angry anymore. Just disappointed. “What are you thanking me for, Princess?” she said heavily, shaking her head before meeting Celestia’s gaze once more. “Not torturing your pony? Not immolating your army? You’re thanking me for not being a monster.” Another sigh. “I should be insulted... but that’s how the whole world sees us,” she said with a glance upward at Scald’s huge, brutish presence beside her. “I thought... we could be something more.”
Ember looked back to Celestia, her expression once more that of resignation. “Look at him, Princess. Look at any of of them. See how confused they are? They don’t know why we aren’t fighting right now. They have no idea why I want your pony to be returned safely. They have no comprehension why I’d go out of my way – why their Dragon Lord would lift a finger or even draw breath – to intervene on Scald’s behalf. Look, see? He’s still waiting for me to name my price – to tell him exactly why I need him, or perhaps reveal how much receiving the help of the Dragon Lord herself is going to cost him.” She shook her head sadly, sighed again, and looked at the floor. “He doesn’t understand what help is. None of them do. Neither did I, until someone showed me. And there was only one place he learned it,” she finished with a glance at Spike before her gaze was once more back with Celestia. “I came here because I wanted my dragons to come and see this great land you’ve built together; the harmony you have here... and take something away from it. Something I don’t think we’ll find anywhere else.”
“Equestria’s Greatest Metaphor,” scoffed Scald.
“Scald, do you want to go back in your bubble?! Because I can ask!” snapped Ember. She fixed him with a furious gaze, her patience with him finally at an end.
He must have sensed because in reply he bowed his head in an oddly – for him at least – humble gesture.
“What do I have to do to make you see it, Scald? Just look at Spike. Look at what he just did,” said an exasperated Ember, motioning to Spike. “He’s not a king, or a queen or a lord. He’s no-one special... except to his friends. His friends care about him so much that if he’s ever in trouble an entire army will rally to help him. They’ll give him enough strength to overcome even a brute like you, and they’ll ask for nothing in return.” She paused. “What if we had that too? Can’t you imagine?”
Scald eyed Ember warily, clearly wanting to choose his words carefully lest he risk further chastisement. “It is a fool’s notion, my Lord. It will never come to pass.”
“But it did! Just now. It’s already happening.” Her gaze actually softened a little. “I’m your Dragon Lord. You’re all my dragons. That means if – if! – you ever get into any trouble out there in the world, no matter what or where it is, and you need help... even if it’s you, Scald... I’ll come for you. And if it’s necessary, I’ll bring every single dragon with me.” It seemed to take Scald a while to process the information, prompting Ember to add, “I know what it’s like to need help. It’s not a nice feeling. And as long as I’m Dragon Lord, any dragon that needs help is going to get it. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“That I have only to claim to need help and...” said Scald with an uncertain cadence. Then he raised his head and looked out to the horizon with eyes that widened with wonder, as though the conclusion was a beautiful flower blooming before him. “I... will be invincible...”
Ember smacked her palm into her forehead in exasperation and hung it. She mumbled something almost inaudible under her breath, though the final few words were “...against a brick wall.”
Finally Ember composed herself. “Nevermind... just... get everyone ready to fly. The princesses want us gone... and there’s nothing for us here.” She looked back to Celestia. “If you want, I’ll let your army escort us to your border.”
“My Lord—?!” said Scald, once again confused.
“Yes?!” snapped Ember, and Scald had to recoil to deal with yet another rebuke.
“Forgive me please, my Lord but...!” he dropped his voice to a whisper, though why was unclear: large as he was, even his whisper could be heard by all assembled. “—why? You talk of a collaboration among dragons that would increase our strength beyond theirs exponentially... and then decide to flaunt weakness in front of them? To allow them to dictate our actions?”
“Scald, for once in your life, just—” she began. But was interrupted.
“I see no weakness,” Celestia spoke up. She gave a solemn nod and began walking toward the centre of the plateau, fixing Ember with a kind gaze, and one that at last bore a measure of understanding and empathy. “I see a ruler who commands absolute power... yet acts with restraint. Even though their pride might be threatened. Even when surrounded by those who demand action. That is not weakness to me. That, I see as a hallmark of incredible strength.”
She stopped before Ember and when she met her eyes now her gaze carried with it the utmost respect. “Throughout the ages there have been too many hierarchs who thought themselves strong, but whose egos were curiously frail. The annals of history recount many times over the anguish of the innocent who suffered for no other reason than one ruler or other perceived a slight to their dignity, and tried to correct it lest they be seen as weak. In my experience it is, in fact, only the strongest and most self-confident of leaders who can afford to let such matters go.” She stopped before Ember. “I do not see any monsters here, Lord Ember. I see a strong-willed leader trying to make the world a better place for her people at no expense to anyone else. That is something very rare... and very familiar. I regret that I did not see it earlier,” she finished with another, deep dip of her head. “At our first meeting I said that Equestria has nothing to offer those who would come in force... and that is true. But to those who come in peace? With open minds and tolerance in their hearts? To them we have much we wish to share. Please... I hope you can forgive my brusqueness yesterday. Equestria has never had any quarrel with you, but your arrival was sudden and intimidating to many, and we came to believe that you may have one with us. I became defensive because I misjudged your intentions – and you yourself – even against the advice of a trusted friend, and for that... I am sorry.”
Ember was surprised for a moment. “Huh...” was all she could say at first. Finally she managed to order her thoughts into words. “I wasn’t expecting a full-on apology from the Princess of Equestria. Especially such a plain-spoken one. Aren’t you supposed to disguise it a bit better? Or make it sound like you might be apologising but not actually say it?”
Celestia gave a humble shake of her head. “No. Because I was wrong. And I consider myself fortunate that my own pride still allows me to acknowledge when I am at fault, and not to hide my own errors behind blame for others. I am being sincere when I say that I hope you will accept.”
Scald – never one to learn – butted in again. “Our Lord? Accept an apology from you? Mewling weaklings who nonetheless have the audacity to call armies and send spies against us? Why would Lord Ember accept—?”
“OUR AUDACITY?!” screamed Luna, zipping from her place in the formation to hover almost muzzle to muzzle with Scald. “Let us talk of audacity! Let us talk of dragons traipsing across borders; of them turning our mountaintop into a wrestling ring; of them claiming they will leave only to skulk into our city in the dead of night; of them taking captives unprovoked!”
Scald’s eyes narrowed and his grin turned thin and cruel. “Oh, I like this blue one, my Lord. May I take it to keep as a pet?”
Luna’s horn flashed dangerously into life. “I will make the bubble soundproof...”
“Stop, both of you!” cried Spike, half in desperation, half in annoyed anger. “You’re not helping!”
Ember regarded Celestia, a defeated, hopeless expression once more coming to her. “Actually, they’ve summed it up pretty well. There’s... a lot to unstick, isn’t there? You’re making weapons to use on us. We... caused a panic. It doesn’t feel like we can just ignore all these things.”
Celestia just smiled kindly, and gave a slow shake of her head. “We have both had ample pretext this past day to take offense. To further any narrative that leads away from peace and toward conflict... but here and now we have both chosen to see past our errors in favour of something more constructive. Many others would not be able to. I can say to you here, now, that of all the actions Equestria has taken, none of it was ever done because we wanted to cause harm to you. If you will say the same... that is enough for me. No-one has been hurt, and nothing has been done that cannot be undone. The rest is... talking and honesty. Why must it be any more complicated?” She allowed herself a little chuckle. “Believe me: even with all that has happened, talking to someone who actually wants to talk back and resolve our differences rather than brood over them... I would rather be here than many other diplomatic positions I have been in. And you might be surprised at how readily forgiveness can be shared when two parties want to respect, trust, understand and work with each other.”
Ember was silent for a moment, her eyebrow still raised. Then at last she conceded, “Look, I’m... new... to all this. Diplomacy. I don’t get how some of it works.” She drew herself up. “But it sounds like we both have things we regret. I’d like to accept your apology. That is, as long as you accept mine. I mean, if you don’t, I’m not accepting yours at all. Or apologising myself.”
Celestia nodded, dipping her head deeply and even letting out a little chuckle. “I would be honoured to accept, Lord Ember.”
Scald’s jaw had dropped in a look of horror, a silent ‘Why?’ on his lips. Ember looked up at him and sighed. “Go join the others. Get them ready to fly.” Never quite losing his look of bewilderment, Scald turned and began to climb the mountain slope, quite dismissed.
Ember sighed. “I wonder if they’ll ever see it...”.
“We both know it is possible. After all, there are two examples of those who already have right here. And with you as their ruler, I believe they have every chance.” Celestia raised her head. “Luna? Recall the Guard and stand them down.” She looked at Ember. “There will be no need for an escort.”
Luna nodded, and with a barked order she wheeled around in the air and was instantly at the head of a triple-file column of ponies hundreds strong as they streamed back towards the city below, leaving Ember, Celestia, Spike and Rainbow Dash on the plateau.
Suddenly, Spike spoke up, scampering forward to join the group. “So we did it, right? No harm done and we’re all friends now?”
In reply, Ember suddenly turned upon him a frown coloured with the same disdainful expression she had used earlier. “You’re an idiot,” she said to him again.
“What?” he said, confused.
“You were supposed to take the hint, Spike. In fact, exactly which part of, ‘I’ll make an excuse to get rid of Scald and then conveniently turn my back and leave you alone with your trapped friend so you can help her escape,’ did you not understand?”
“Oh... that,” said Spike. He looked at her sincerely. “Come on, Ember. I couldn’t leave this. Not when there was still a chance we could work things out peacefully.”
“And this was better, was it?! This was your plan for peace?! Oh of course, it’s such a good idea! Call an army of ponies to face off against a rabble of testy dragons! Do you have any idea how badly wrong this could have gone?! I pulled your scales out of a tar pit here. You owe me big for this.”
“It wouldn’t have gone wrong,” insisted Spike.
“Really? Can you imagine what carnage would have happened if your ponies had attacked?”
“They wouldn’t.”
“Oh yeah? What if I’d attacked?!”
Spike smiled. “You wouldn’t,” he said softly.
And there, that was the crux of it. A war was like a bonfire. It could be the largest, best-prepared bonfire ever, with the driest wood and the best kindling, ready to take instantly and to burn and blaze with the magnificent light and brilliant heat of untold, unstoppable destruction... but someone had to light it. Someone had to want to see it burn. And even if both sides held matches, if neither wanted to strike theirs, the fire would forever stay unlit.
“Urgh.” Ember shook her head. “And her?” she said, nodding at Rainbow Dash.
“Well, we thought about getting me out...” admitted Rainbow Dash. “But... y’know... if Spike wasn’t leaving, I wasn’t either, and I didn’t want him to get in trouble for helping me.”
“You... stayed? Here? On purpose?”
“Yeah. Something something loyalty etcetera.”
Ember shook her head. “I’m starting to regret coming here for entirely new reasons. You’re all idiots,” she grumbled. She turned to look at Celestia and sighed. “Princess, your ambassador here is an idiot... but he’s probably the best at dragons you’ve got, so I’ll take him. And as for your spy?” She put on a little frown... and then gave a short sigh. “For the record, she didn’t tell me anything... but I think that’s largely because I didn’t ask. Oh and also, she needs a new serial number. A short one. A really short one.”
“Never living it down,” came a very muted groan from Dash’s direction.
Celestia stifled another chuckle, then turned back to Ember. “There is one other matter... I am not certain that I can truly help you with what you came here seeking. We can forge alliances, pledge to assist each other in times of need, open trade and act for each other’s benefit... but if what you wish is for your dragons to learn friendship... to help and care for each other; to build their own society and their own relationships... that is beyond us. Friendship is a treasure, to be certain, but it is not something that can be packaged and given away, by us or by anyone. The most we can do... is offer it.”
“That’s enough for a start. I just... all I need is for them to see how it works,” said Ember. “And, even for how stupid an idea it was, they’ve just seen ponies putting themselves in danger to help a friend they care about – a dragon no less – and joining forces to overcome an impossible obstacle. I guarantee that’s got their attention. If they see what friendship like that can achieve, maybe they’ll try it. If they try it, they might like it. If they like it, they’ll share it with others.” She sighed. “It’s a long road, and we’re only on our first step. But we’ll get there. I know we will.”
“You have made friends here today, Lord Ember. And if we can help you further your cause, then we will do what we can,” said Celestia. “You and your dragons are welcome here – though perhaps the next time you visit, a little more warning would not go amiss?”
Ember looked up sincerely. “I understand. And thank you. These dragons? Outside of the Dragon Lands... they’ve never been made welcome anywhere. So I appreciate the gesture. For now though... I’m gonna head home. Regroup a little. Maybe take this a little slower before I decide to plunge across anyone else’s borders again.”
“Ahem.” Princess Luna’s voice broke in as she alighted on the plateau next to her sister. “The Guard have been recalled and will be standing down.” She locked Ember’s gaze. “Before you depart, Lord Ember, I have a... a message for you,” she said awkwardly, and actually looked a little embarrassed. “I gave my word that I would pass it on if we were to meet again and if the situation were... amicably resolved. Something which – when I agreed to this – I was less than confidant would happen given our first meeting.” She produced a folded piece of paper and opened it out, clearing her throat again and reluctantly began to read. “‘Dear Miss Blue Dragon Lady. I would like to invite you to my birthday party next Friday. Mom said I couldn’t have one because I didn’t have anypony to invite but now if you and that other nice dragon come, brackets he’s invited too, there’ll be three of us, and we’ll have lots of fun I promise. Please say you’ll be there. Yours hopefully, Lavender Charm, eighty-six Sunset Walk, Canterlot, Equestria.’”
Ember looked dumbstruck.
Celestia put on a sly grin and dipped her head a little closer to Luna. “Very eloquent, sister. Did you write it all by yourself?”
“Laugh all you want, sister, but I have bad news for you. If Lord Ember is not in a position to accept, we are attending in her stead.”
Celestia’s eyes snapped wide open. “What?”
“What was I supposed to do? A young filly handed me an invitation for Lord Ember which was by no means guaranteed to be delivered, and said she said she had no friends to invite to her birthday party! I couldn’t allow her to not have one. So... I agreed. Then she asked me if you would be there too – you are her favourite apparently – and I said yes, absolutely. Not without a measure of satisfaction, admittedly,” added Luna. She turned back to Ember. “If you wish, we will make your excuses for you. But the invitation is a genuine one. You made quite the impression.”
Ember raised a claw to her chin. After a moment, she said, “You know what? Let me think about it. It’s not a no.”
Luna nodded. “Very well.”
Ember nodded back. “Look, I should get going before they start fighting or something again.” She looked at Spike. “What about you? I guess you’re staying?”
“Now that everything’s worked out... yeah. I mean, if that’s okay with you... Dragon Lord Ember?”
Ember smiled. “You’re a dragon, Spike. That means you do what you want until I need you for something. And if what you want is to stay with your friends, then that’s what you do.”
“Maybe... if you were looking to learn more about friendship... you could come and visit me in Ponyville sometime?” asked Spike, utterly unable to keep the blatant hope from his eyes.
Ember paused. “Maybe,” she said, considering. “I’ll think about it.” At last she spread her wings and took flight, giving the assembled ponies one last look. Then she turned and soared upwards, high over the peak of the mountain and struck a course eastwards. The remaining dragons, led by Scald all unfurled gargantuan wings, beat them hard and hefted themselves into flight, following behind, leaving Equestria in the direction of the newly-risen sun.
Which left only Celestia, Spike and Rainbow Dash.
“I owe you an apology too, Spike,” said Celestia. “You tried to tell me and I did not listen. To respond to the unknown with hostility – as I did – is an act borne of fear. I believed I was being strong, but in fact I was only afraid of all I might lose. To have approached with kindness and understanding, even in the face of doubt... that would have been an act of true strength. Something that you have displayed in abundance.”
“I’m just glad it all worked out,” admitted Spike, though his cheeks coloured noticeably.
“I honestly believe that, were it not for you, they would not have,” said Celestia. “Only you had the confidence and perseverance to keep our chances for friendship alive, and it seems Lord Ember has already vouched for you.” She drew her head up a little into a more formal, regal posture. “I therefore would like to formally offer you the official title and position of Equestria’s Ambassador to the Dragon Lands. I trust you will consider it?”
“Will I?!” cried Spike in amazement. “You bet! Official ambassador, huh? Wait till Twilight hears about this! Wait...” sudden doubt accosted him. “I don’t have to leave, do I?”
Celestia chuckled. “Equestria? No. I meant what I said, Spike. There will always be a place for you here. However I would recommend removing yourself from this mountaintop. The chill is quite brisk. I trust Rainbow Dash will be able to see you safely back to Ponyville?”
“You betcha, ma’am,” said Rainbow Dash with a grin, snapping a quick salute. “Hop on, buddy.”
“Right.” Spike clambered up onto Dash’s back and she spread her wings, giving them a little flex. “Sixty seconds, wasn’t it?” asked Spike with a little grin. One that Rainbow Dash matched.
Without further ceremony, Dash raced to the edge of the plateau and launched herself into the air, wings thumping as she raced away, determined to beat the minute-hand back to Ponyville.
Celestia remained a moment and smiled, then turned toward the morning sun, and the direction that the dragons had left. She had come close, she thought, to losing it all. But perhaps not as close as she had feared. And now, there was hope of a new dawn with the dragons, thanks to Spike. Equestria’s true treasure was its ponies, she reflected with a smile. Even when they weren’t ponies at all.