A trio of dragons stood together on a grassy knoll just outside of Ponyville. The sky was clear, and the air carried on it a hint of fresh earthiness. Leaves were only just beginning to sense the coming change in the season, the tips of their green leaves taking their first steps towards an autumn wardrobe.
The dragons looked out across the town, and their eyes were immediately drawn to the gleaming prominences of the castle, where once grew a humble oaken library. A bit further beyond the library’s husk, small figures flitted around the roofs of the School of Friendship and roamed its manicured grounds.
Scintilla pointed at the crystalline castle. “You live in that?” she questioned in wonderment and blatant disbelief.
Spike, his chin up and claws at his hips, nodded once. “Sure do. I even have my own seat next to the princess.” He pretended to inspect his talons. “Yep. I guess you could say I’m like the deputy princess.”
Flint was busy flipping through a hefty tome with elaborate silver inlay across the covers and spine. He paused halfway through and held the book open for Scintilla to see the entry. It showed a likeness of a younger Spike, carved from pure crystal, standing heroically in a town square.
“And he’s a hero of this...Crystal Empire?” He gazed down at his son, the pride on his eyes warm enough to have melted the thickest of snow drifts from the north. “You’ve grown into a true dragon, Spike.”
Scintilla scooped up her son into a hug. “We couldn’t be more proud of you.”
Blushing, Spike returned the embrace and then wriggled free. “Ah, shucks. Thanks, Mom and Dad.” He turned to face the town and spread his arms wide. “There’s so much here I want to show you. It would really mean a lot to me if you would change your minds about leaving.” He lowered his arms and turned back to his parents.
“I never would have done all that stuff you’re proud of, or seen all that I have without my pony friends. Plus, Twilight’s basically my big sister.” He hoped up to hover at eye level with the two older dragons, his claws clenched in earnest sincerity. “That’s gotta count in the ‘ponies aren’t all bad’ category. Right?”
Flint winced but held his son’s pleading gaze. “I’m sure it’s a great place, and I guess I can understand your attachment to the ponies.” He sighed and looked over to Scintilla, who offered the barest of nods. “But we’re just not up for it right now. We’ve been prisoners of ponies for a long time, and there’s a lot about us that’s changed in those years.” His voice dropped in volume to just above a whisper. “Changes that have made me question whether or not I’m still a real dragon. Before getting captured, before seeing you for the first time, I’d never hugged anyone.”
“We’re not going to feel comfortable around them for a while,” Scintilla continued. She fluttered her wings and looked at them appraisingly, noting with a grimace how the muscles and membranes were stringy and gaunt. “Old wounds take time to heal.” She saw the defeat that was welling up in Spike’s eyes and hurriedly added, “But we do trust you when you say that your friends are the good kind of ponies.”
Spike lowered himself to the ground as he watched his parents shift their weight from side to side. “You know,” he started. “Most of Equestria is full of good ponies, like my friends. And there are a lot of good people outside of Equestria too. You can’t judge an entire group by the actions of just a few.” Spike saw a hint of shame creeping into his parent’s eyes and sighed. “But I get it. I might feel the same way if it had happened to me.”
The trio stood together silently, watching the lives that were playing out in Ponyville from a distance until Spike finally asked, “So, you’re going straight to the Dragonlands?”
Flint nodded. “Yes. We need to tell the Dragonlord everything about the Scale Collectors. What we heard and saw. That way, she can spread the word. Then all dragons can be better prepared.”
“Ember’s a great Dragonlord. I think you’ll like her.”
Flint’s mouth cracked into a smile and he snorted, a small jet of flame escaping from his nostrils. “I still can’t believe you’re friends with the Dragonlord, too.” He punctuated the statement with a jab to Spike’s shoulder, causing Spike to teeter to one side, who quickly recovered and returned the gesture.
“I promise that I’ll come to visit you guys as often as I can, but I have duties here in Equestria. It probably won’t be as often as I’d like.”
“We know,” his mother replied. “And we promise, one day you can take us on a tour of your...home.” Flint nodded in assent and moved to put a supportive wing around his mate.
On an impulse, Spike launched himself at his parents and wrapped his arms around them as best his arms could reach. “I love you guys.” They wrapped their arms and wings around Spike, and the little family held one another in a cocoon of familial joy.
Spike looked up to see his father blink away a drop of moisture that had collected in the corners of his eyes. “Are...are you crying, Dad?”
Flint cleared his throat loudly and sniffed. “Of course not. Real dragons don’t cry.”
“I thought dragons didn’t hug, either,” Spike added, elbowing his father.
“I hear it’s a pony thing,” Flint explained. “If we’re going to visit, I might as well get used to it.”
Spike tightened his hug, doing his utmost to pour all of his strength into the feelings that were bombarding him. “I know, Dad,” he managed before the words caught in his throat. Then the family parted. Flint and Scintilla launched themselves into the air and pirouetted to the southeast.
“Goodbye,” Scintilla called as she and Flint caught a breeze, beginning their ascent towards the thin clouds on the horizon.
“It’s not goodbye, Mom,” Spike yelled back as his parents rose higher. “It’s see you later.” Scintilla waved one last time. Then the dragon pair beat their wings and were away.
Spike stood on the knoll, alone, for a long time. He watched his parents fly away until his eyes could no longer make out their dwindling shapes. When Spike was sure there was nothing but empty skies, he sighed deeply and kicked at a small rock. He did not turn when he heard the light pattering of hooves on grass approaching from behind.
“How did it go?” Twilight asked.
“They’re not ready to be around ponies,” Spike answered. “And I don’t blame them.” A quiet moment passed before the dragon turned around and offered Twilight a noncommittal shrug. “But they promised that one day, I could show them around.”
“If I can help at all, just say the word.”
“Thanks, but not right away.” Spike looked back over his shoulder in the direction his parents had flown. “I’ve been thinking. They said they were really proud of how I’ve grown up and all the things I’ve accomplished.” Then, for the first time a long while, Spike climbed up Twilight’s shoulder and sat down in his old spot upon her back. “But all that is thanks to you.”
Though he was undoubtedly more substantial than he used to be, Twilight bore the weight without complaint. She craned her neck around to look at him. “Me?”
“Sure. You’ve been there since the day I hatched. Looking after me, taking care of me, teaching me everything I know.”
“Oh, Spike,” Twilight chuckled. She plucked him from his perch with a bit of magic and drew him into a tight embrace. “You’ve always been like a little brother to me. I only did what any big sister would do. Sometimes I’ve wondered if there wasn’t more I could have done to help you along. But in the end, the dragon that you are today is because of the steps you took for yourself.” She pulled away enough so that she could look him in the eye.
“I tried to show you the right path as best I could, but all the hard work and right choices were yours to make. I know your real family probably said it a lot already, but your adoptive family is very proud of you too.” She hugged him again, and a few warm tears wound their way down her cheeks.
“Ah geez,” Spike groaned, himself struggling to sniff back his emotions. “I’ve already had to deal with one of my families crying today.”
Twilight giggled and dried her eyes. “Come on then. I’m anxious to hear from Starlight how the substitute teachers fared while we were gone.” Together, they pushed off from the ground and flew, side by side, towards the School of Friendship.
When they arrived, the rest of their friends were waiting at the front entrance with Starlight. Twilight excused herself and followed Starlight, who quickly accelerated to nearly a trotting speed, into the school and down the hall towards Twilight’s usual lecture hall. The rest of them followed at a more leisurely pace.
Rainbow Dash took the opportunity to nudge Spike in the shoulder. “So, did your parents decide to head back to the Dragonlands after all?”
“Yeah.” The school bell rang, and the six of them dodged around a flood of students who were racing to get started on their weekend plans. “The time we got together was great, and I’m sad to see them go already, but we’ll meet up again real soon.”
Fluttershy was beaming with joy. “We’re all so happy for you.” The others heartily agreed as the tail end of the student wave trailed off. They rounded the corner outside of Twilight’s classroom, and everyone came to an abrupt halt as a familiar maroon unicorn stepped out into the hallway.
“Excuse me,” she began, but a pink rocket darted forward and nearly bowled her over with a hug.
“Fizzy! I didn’t know you were teaching while we were gone. How are you?”
Applejack tipped her hat to Fizzlepop as Pinke detached herself from the startled mare. “That was mighty kind of you, Tem--uh, Fizzlepop.”
Fizzlepop dipped her head in greetings. “Thank you.” She looked past the others in the direction which the students had run off, a little smile on her face. “The students seemed to respond well to my instruction methods. It was actually kind of fun.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But there might be a problem.”
Rarity stepped forward. “Whatever is the matter, dear?”
Fizzlepop gestured towards the classroom door, and her little smile widened. “I was just debriefing Twilight on this week’s progress and I, um, think I may have broken your Headmare.” From out in the hallway, Spike and the assembled ponies heard a strained, high-pitched voice.
“She said my history lesson syllabus was too narrow? What does that even mean? And what kind of catchphrase is ‘friendship is strategic?!’”