“Ohhhhhhh, she'd go another man done gone
She lives in a swamp in a hollow log
With a one-eyed snake and a three-legged dog…” came up from the bayous of the Beast Makers realm, the hollers accompanied by the pickings of a banjo as dragons Bubba and Cleetus strummed away at their instruments. The air was hot and sticky with humidity, and strange and wild things grew as odd little sounds echoed up from the swamp muck.
“...This is where you live?” Spike asked as he looked at Smolder, the orange dragoness shrugging to herself. “No offense,” he continued. “But, it’s kinda uh… Oh, how do I put it?”
“Hot, muggy, a pile of crap?” Smolder remarked listing off the three on the tips of her fingers. “Go on, lay it on me. I’ve pretty much heard every smart remark about this place known to man and beast. Only about half of which are untrue, really.”
She laughed to herself before gnawing on a hock of lamb leg tearing away the flesh with her sharp teeth. “Oh, by the way, I really have to thank Alvar for the meat, so don’t let me forget that okay?”
“Is this what the definition of a henpecked husband is?” Spike asked himself. “Because that’s what this feels like. ...never mind the fact that I’m not even dating Smolder yet.”
“Trust me Spyro,” Smolder continued. “Being born on the bayou, it’s not exactly easy out here. So you make what jokes you can. Even if they’re at your own expense. When we say this place is beautiful, we’re only half-serious.”
“There is one thing I’m curious about, really,” Spike asked. “I mean, Beast Makers. The name really. Nobody’s actually ever told me what that’s all about, really… I thought animals already… well, existed. So you guys just make them or something?”
“Well, yes, and uh, no…” came a particularly rambunctious voice from behind Spike making him let out a very unmanly shriek and jump in the air. As Spike tried to collect his breath and save what little remained of his dragon pride, Smolder hugged the owner of the voice tightly. “We basically keep the balance. Overfishing, overhunting? We’re what puts the natural world right again until nature takes over and does the rest for us.” Bubba explained, having put away his guitar.
“That’s… uh, kinda cool I guess…” Spike said. “Way to lowball it there, man. This sounds like an actually important job.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet,” Bubba said, the dragon then smiling. “What I think you need here is a demonstration. Now, watch carefully.”
He held out his hands, a glowing green orb then manifesting between them as the air began to fill with a crackling humming sound. The orb flashed before in its place was a cute little bunny rabbit hopping off into the undergrowth.
“Wow…” Spike whispered his eyes wide with shock and aww.
“Now, it’ll only last for a few hours, but then again maybe that’s all it needs eh…?” Bubba said with a small wink. Smolder facepalmed.
“Really Uncle,” she asked in a flat, deadpan tone looking decidedly unimpressed with him. “That joke again? That’s the fifth time this week!”
“Hey, the old ones are the best!” Bubba said with a completely unashamed grin. Smolder groaned. “All jokes aside though, this is serious work. We have to be careful about exactly what we make, and how much we make of these animals otherwise Mother Nature? She won’t be pleased with us. Respect Mother Nature, and don’t piss her off is the word of the trade around here, and with good reason, I should add.” Bubba continued in a saged, wisened tone of voice.
“Why? What would happen if you…?” Spike trailed off, not sure if he absolutely really wanted to know.
“Didn’t respect her?” Smolder asked before rubbing her chin in thought. “Well, I’ve never actually seen it happen in person per se, buuttttttt as the rumor goes around here, if you go ahead and decide to just over create the local magic starts going… wonky. There goes this old tale of sorts of how one dragon created far too many boars in a month, and then when he tried to create the mother of them all, the magic worked a little too well if I remember correctly. Oh, he got the mother of all boars, alright. It got crossed with a wyvern, and the Beast Maker became Beast Food.” she said with a tone that was only half-joking as she continued to gnaw on her leg of lamb. Spike shuddered, getting the picture loud and clear.
“Basically, you get what you deserve if you’re stupid enough,” Bubba said. “Everything exists in a delicate balance. Upset that balance, and the consequences… well, they won’t be pretty.” he continued sucking in a breath.
“...Geez, I get the picture,” Spike said with a small shudder before deciding it best to change the subject. “So, uh, Smolder, can you… uh, create anything like your uncle?”
“Is that a challenge?” Smolder asked cocking an eyebrow. “Or are you just asking rhetorical questions? Because of course I can!”
To prove her point, she created a small orb in her hands like her uncle had a few moments before and then it popped revealing a small gecko which rapidly clambered up her arm. “See, piece of cake!” Smolder laughed.
“Um… Okay… wow…” Spike said.
“Okay, glad to know my awesomeness is blowing you away and all that,” Smolder remarked. “But you could stand to be at least a little more talkative right? Or am I just that little bit too cute for you?” she teased tracing a finger along Spike’s jawline as his heart skipped a few beats and his face flushed red. The epitome of subtle he was not.
Spike’s jaw opened and closed, but no words came out. Smolder burst out laughing and smirked. “Yeah, I thought as much. Glad to know I’ve still got it with you, right?” she continued before taunting off deliberately making sure to put that extra little sway in her hips.
Spike finally managed to regain the power of speech and flopped down into the grass muttering: “I’m sooooooo doomed aren’t I?”
“Yeah, probably,” Bubba agreed.
“Thank y… HEY!”
Bubba just howled with laughter. “Ah, to be young again…”
Meanwhile back in the Artisans realms, Spyro was mustering up his courage for a talk with Nestor. He and Cynder had decided it was finally time to come clean and admit the truth to his adoptive father figure.
Today, the carpenter was found in Stone Hill, working on repairing the main building after a really nasty storm had come in and trashed the roof. Raising one mighty hand, with hammer grasped in his claw he brought it down with one powerful swing hammering in a nail. In the background, Gavin held up a sign reading a perfect ten. He looked to Argus, who was too busy munching away on a watermelon his sign tossed to the side.
“...Really, we’re doing this?” Argus said after finally noticing Gavin via pointed glare. “Go on, just admit your love towards the guy. Personally, I don’t see the point in this, given you can see Nestor hammering away at something any other damn day of the week.”
Tossing the watermelon up in the air, the dragon then opened his jaw in almost comical fashion as poor Gavin was spattered by red melon guts and seeds. “You have the table manners of a boar, you know that right?” Gavin deadpanned.
“...I didn’t know us dragons were supposed to have good table manners,” Argus shrugged. “What, you want me to grab a fork and a spoon along with wrapping a napkin around my neck?”
“...Well, if it keeps you from covering me in melon guts then yes…”
Nestor could only facepalm as the two squabbled in the background. He enjoyed the company of his friends, he really did but they could be such idiots at times. He then saw Spyro and Cynder flying their way and apparently so did Gavin as he cried out: “Oh, look high! Hero of Avalar and the Dragon Realms, incoming!”
Gavin then took note of the look on Spyro’s face and quickly decided to take his leave knowing when he wasn’t needed. Taking a sip of his coffee, he grabbed Argus by the shoulder and dragged him off.
“Oh, Spyro,” Nestor said flying down from his perch on the castle scaffolding. “Pleasant surprise to see you here. Come to admire your old man’s handiwork? I admit it’s nowhere near my best but…”
“Uh… Yeah, something like that,” Spyro replied with a small nervous laugh. “Can… we… uh, talk? Like, right now?”
“Yeah, there’s sorta something we’ve been keeping from you actually…” Cynder added. Nestor looked fairly pleased by this.
“No, wait, don’t tell me,” Nestor said before bringing Spyro and Cynder in for a massive nearly bone-crushing hug making their eyes almost comically pop out of their skulls. “You’re finally…? Oh, have you told Spike yet? He’s going to be so pleased to learn he’s now a big brother.”
“I’m not… Spike’s not…” Cynder whispered fighting back the hot tears that threatened to stain her face. “I’m not pregnant. And I can never be…”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Nestor said his voice filled with a soft surprise as Cynder looked away in shame.
“Cyn, you don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to…” Spyro said putting a hand on his mate’s shoulder. “I can go ahead and give him the news if you want…”
“No… No, I can do this…” Cynder whispered. “I… I just need to work up the courage and…”
“Spyro, is there something you’re not telling me?” Nestor asked in a suspicious tone.
“No… No, everything’s fine…” Spyro squeaked out suddenly losing his nerve.
“Spyro…” Cynder whispered before taking a deep shuddering breath before speaking again. “What he means to say is… Well, I can’t exactly get pregnant really…”
Her voice was at a low whisper, almost completely inaudible.
“What was that?” Nestor asked not sure if he had heard correctly. But he could have sworn Cynder was whispering something about how she couldn’t get pregnant. He was about to make a joke on how it just required that few extra tries but then he saw the look on Cynder’s face. “...Cynder, please tell me that…”
“I’m infertile, okay!” Cynder shouted suddenly. “I… I can’t ever have kids!”
“Spyro, is this true?” Nestor asked turning back to look at his son.
“Yes… it’s true, all of it,” Spyro said refusing to meet his eyes. “We… haven’t had the heart to tell you, and we were hoping when we adopted Spike you’d just… forget about the whole idea really. You’re… you’re not mad are you?”
“I am, I admit,” Nestor grumbled crossing his arms though his eyes spoke of sympathy towards the violet dragoness he’d happily let into his family. “But not for the reason you might think. I thought we could trust each other with things like this, not just… lie about it. Yes, it’s true I wanted grandkids but you could at least have trusted me from the start about this whole thing. I’m your father, to both of you.”
“...I… I guess we just wanted time to process this, and try and handle it all… That’s it, I guess…” Spyro mumbled.
“And I understand that,” Nestor said. “And I sympathize with you, given now I know why you were so happy to adopt Spike in the first place beyond the obvious reason. It’s just family should trust each other enough to be able to talk with each other about these sorts of things.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry dad…” Spyro whispered. “We both are.”
“How… how long have you known?” Nestor asked gently turning back towards Cynder.
“Soon after we married,” Cynder said. “I… I took a trip to the Magic Crafters and talked to Eldrid, to see if he could figure out what was wrong. Well, he did and… I basically asked him to keep it quiet. He held his silence on the matter, nobody else knew besides Spyro, Spike -and even that was by accident!- and now you.”
“So I see…” Nestor trailed off. “I don’t think any less of you for all of this. In fact, I understand. It was your business to keep, actually. ...By Lord Torch, I feel like such an ass for making all those remarks about when you were going to give me grandchildren…”
“No, it’s okay. We should have told you sooner, really…” Spyro sighed.
“Hug it out?” Nestor asked and Spyro and Cynder took a nervous step back.
“No… No, I think we’re good actually…” Spyro said before seeing the dejected look on Nestor’s face. “...Oh, what the hell? Alright, fine…”
As Nestor hugged his adoptive son and then her in turn, Cynder felt a great weight being finally lifted up off her shoulders for what felt like the first time since she’d first found out and this whole mess started. She felt… loved. She chuckled. “He really is Spyro’s father, isn’t he? Even if not by blood. They share the same warmth and the same general goofiness. Yeah, I’m proud to be a part of this family.”
Spyro meanwhile had realized something. During all of these talks about family, he had remembered when exactly his mysterious dreams had started. They’d mainly kicked up just right after he’d adopted Spike and when his insecurities about not being a good father figure were at their height. So this begged him to wonder, was the dark dragon in his dreams really a nightmarish evil figure like he’d suspected at first or was he something else entirely. And then there was that one particular remark the dragon -if that’s what he really was- had made.
“It seems we share other qualities besides that of our color.”
“Excuse me,” Spyro said tearing himself away from Nestor. “There’s something I have to check out.”
“Spyro?” Cynder asked in a concerned tone. “Is… is something the matter?”
“No, not at all,” he reassured his mate. “Let’s just say I think I may have had something of an epiphany!” he declared before rocketing upwards into the sky in a sort of hammerhead style maneuver and heading off towards the directions of the alps that the Magic Crafters called home.
“Should we be… concerned?” Cynder asked not having entirely believed her mate.
“Possibly,” Nestor said doing very little to reassure the dragoness. “But Spyro… he has a way of conquering whatever challenge set in front of him doesn’t he?”
“Yeah... “ Cynder agreed as she watched her mate’s retreating form. “That he does. That he does…”
Spyro meanwhile narrowed his eyes as he saw the alps rapidly coming into view. Years ago, he would have needed a balloon for this sort of thing, now he could travel between realms via just wing power alone. “Okay then Mister Dark and Scary, let’s have ourselves a little… chat. On my terms this time.”
Back in the swamps of the Beast Tamers, Spike had decided to try his hand at creating a creature of his own. “Now feel the energy of the planet moving through your hands, your body. The power of the Goddess Gaia herself,” Bubba instructed. “Do you feel it?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I feel something at the very least,” Spike admitted. “Though I’m not sure if it’s actually the energy of the planet or anything. It could be just my stomach settling from lunch earlier. I’m not sure those fried crawdads agreed with me.”
“More information than I needed Spike… So, gee, thanks for that one.” Smolder deadpanned as Bubba let out a deep belly laugh.
“Okay, now focus that energy, let it flow into your hands. Imagine something, anything really. Doesn’t have to be large, or anything particularly interesting. It doesn’t have to be for your first try,” Bubba continued to instruct. “Okay, so do you have something in mind?” he then asked.
Spike nodded.
“Good,” Bubba praised. “NOW CREATE!”
And so Spike let the magic flow, a shape coming into being. Mind you, things quickly soon began to spiral out of control as a little too much magic was poured into the creation of this new lifeform. Soon, there was a massive -and quite angry- warthog, tusks quite easily able to gore someone if not dealt with.
REEEEEEEEETTTTTTTT!!!
“So, was this in the plan?” Smolder said as both Spike and her ran like Hell itself was after them.
“Gee, what do you think?” Spike snarked before turning around and seeing that, yep, the hog was still after them. Then came a mighty war cry as Cleetus came out of the undergrowth with mace in hand before he slammed it head-on into the warthog soundly knocking it unconscious.
“...Um, sorry?” Spike laughed nervously. Bubba let out a deep belly laugh and slapped Spike on the back, accidentally sending him sprawling into the mud.
“Why be sorry?” the dragon asked. “I haven’t seen something that inspired since… since myself actually!”
“...Yeah, inspired’s one word for it really…” Smolder muttered to herself.
“That was impressive, actually,” Bubba said. “To create such a thing at a young age, and one your first try as well! Seriously, I bet if you try again when you have more experience in controlling natural energy, you could create something truly… astounding.”
“I’mma going to take a wild guess here and say you’re kicking me out in… polite fashion.” Spike thought to himself.
Spike then found himself in Dry Canyon, on a whim. The way he figured it, if he was going to be a proper dragon and make sure history never repeated itself and no other drake had to feel the same pain as him he would become a warrior. Or, at least in theory anyways. He found himself being coaxed by Conan, a thin and rather tall dragon, with yellow scales and armor resembling that of Don Quixote.
Cynder was there as well, having been… intrigued by this new development. Watching with interest, she sat atop a cliff with Spike not even knowing she was there.
Spike, for his part held a bow and arrow and targets shaped like gnorcs popped out of the ground.
“Rule 95 of being a Peace Keeper: Concentrate,” Conan said in this calm voice.
Spike fired, and soon Conan changed his tune upon being pinned to a tree by a barrage of arrows. Cynder winced. “Oooh, yeah, that had to hurt…” she thought to herself.
“Rule 96: Aim.” Conan just sighed trying to avoid outright facepalming.
“Well, at least he didn’t fail him outright…” Cynder thought. And then came the next test. And that revolved around rescuing a damsel from gnorcs. Conan was the gnorc, of course, alongside Maximos. This mainly involved painting their body green and roaring and stomping around like idiots.
“...I’ve never felt so embarrassed in my life…” Spike muttered. “Those are supposed be gnorcs? Then I must be A.K Yearling!”
“Rule number 5 kid,” Cynder said having to play the instructor as her comrades were too caught up in acting badly. They would never be in one of Alban’s features, let’s put it that way and leave it at that. “When rescuing, always handle with care.”
As Cynder pressed her stopwatch, Spike broke into a run with ‘damsel’ in arm. Said damsel was actually a sheep wearing a wig. Again, not particularly convincing but it served its purpose. I do feel sorry for the sheep though.
“You never told me this was timed, I hate timed things!” Spike shouted as he ran before tripping and falling flat on his face. As for the ‘damsel’? ‘She’ was thrown into a tar pit. Um… Oops?
“...It pains me to watch this…” Conan muttered to himself. Maximos could only pat him on the back in abject sympathy. Needless to say, perhaps, Spike was not having a good day.
To be honestly fair to poor Spike, being a Peace Keeper was… difficult as any of them could tell you. Getting around the fact that you had to stand the hot sun until your shift changed, there was learning every weapon and every form of tactic known to dragonkind. It generally took several years to become a fully-fledged master at this entire craft. And that was presuming you got a good teacher. So, all in all, for his first day Spike was doing quite well. Better than Cynder actually.
Okay, so how much worse could Cynder have been? Well, let’s just say it involved one unlucky dragon being hit in the one place no drake ever should have been hit. It was pretty shocking, to say the least, for the reincarnation of the Terror of the Skies to have been so bad starting out as a warrior. Not that Cynder would ever tell anyone about this little hiccup. She actually tried to forget about it if possible. Not that you could blame her given poor Spyro was nursing an ice pack on his crotch for a good solid week.
Speaking of Spyro actually, he was once again in the dream realm, thanks to a potion given to him by Eldrid and once again wandering a realm of fire and stone. “Alright then…” Spyro muttered to himself. “You wanted me, come and get me!”
“So I shall…” a deep voice remarked from out of the aether.
A dark cloud of smoke rocketed by Spyro before seeming to ‘land’ atop a nearby cliff, with the smoke beginning to form into a shape. Spyro’s eyes widened when he saw that the shape was almost an exact duplicate of his own, and in fact if not for the blank white eyes you could be forgiven into thinking that this was in fact Spyro himself.
“So, you’re…. Me?” Spyro asked. “Or, well, sorta me anyways. Listen, glad to know I’m loved here, like I’m really feeling the love but looking at myself in a sorta funhouse mirror fashion is starting to really creep me out here.”
The dragon leaped down to face Spyro. “Huh, interesting. Very interesting…” the dark dragon noted. “It took you this long to figure out who and what I am? I thought you were supposed to be smart. I mean, you’re me. And I’m you.”
“And now that we’re all together in a yellow submarine, you mind being a little less cryptic?” Spyro asked. “Like seriously, you could give the Dream Weavers a run for their money really.”
“You flatter me,” the other Spyro said holding a claw to his chest. “Like, you really do.”
“Trust me, that’s far from my intention…” Spyro said his eyes narrowing and blowing out puffs of smoke from his nostrils. “Now you mind telling me who you really are instead of just putting on this funhouse act? Because trust me, it’s really starting to get real old quite quick.”
Then the darker Spyro got very close -uncomfortably so- to the original, breaking off a crystal and nibbling on it in his mouth like some sort of oversized pocky stick. “And I thought you came to me for the inside story. I’m hurt, I really am!”
Spyro just knocked the crystal out of his other half’s mouth with a swipe of his claws. “Do you do nothing but make jokes?” he demanded a flame beginning to build up, Spyro’s throat glowing a sharp orange color.
“Oooh, getting testy I see,” Dark Spyro commented. “But of course I make jokes. I’m you aren’t I? Weren’t you voted the class clown of the Artisan realms? I fail to see how exactly someone as free-spirited as you is even able to take care of a child! Hell, even Cynder with all of her issues could be a better parent than you anyways, she has to pick up the slack as it is already…”
Spyro growled at his dark counterpart, whirling on him and firing a blast of flame at him. “Now see, we’re just getting nowhere,” Dark Spyro commented as he hovered above him. “Like honestly, I talk you try and attack me. It’s like we’re going around in circles!”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so annoying…” the original Spyro muttered to himself. “But yeah, you’re right… I admit it, I am a bit of the class clown and a bit of a dunce at times. But you know what?” he asked stamping his foot. “At least I try because by Lord Torch I try.”
“Perhaps,” Dark Spyro admitted. “Perhaps. But is trying really good enough?”
“Well, it’s all I can do, right?” Spyro asked. “I have to be a good father for Spike because I’m all he’s got right? I have to set a good example. Sure, I’m probably not the best adoptive father in the world, but I don’t have to be. I just have to be there for him. And I think you know that as well because you’re… me. Born out of my own insecurities and doubts.”
Dark Spyro blinked. “...How did you…?”
“It took me a bit, yeah, I admit that,” Spyro said. “But as soon as I realized when you started to really appear in full, then I figured out just exactly who you were. Your little remark about how we shared more qualities aside from our color was the final hint I needed and just now you assuming your true shape clinched it for me.”
“Well, I guess you’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” Dark Spyro complimented doing a little mock bow. “You got it in one, I’m just those little emotions you keep up bottled away and try not to think very much about but yet, they’re still there! So hello, I’m your dark side!” he said doing a little wave.
“You’re not very threatening, for my dark side you know that right?” Spyro told his other self in a flat, deadpan tone.
“Well, I am you remember?” Dark Spyro returned. “I’d hate to lose my sense of comedic timing.”
Spyro rolled his eyes. “So… uh, yeah… isn’t there supposed to be some big scene with soft orchestral music where I hug it out with you and tell you I accept you and such?”
“Well, this is your dream after all,” Dark Spyro pointed out, poking his counterpart in the chest. “So if you want, you can make it happen…”
“Yeah… I don’t think we’ll be doing that…” Spyro said flatly. “I’m pretty sure I don’t swing that way, like 99% percent sure.”
“Oh shame,” Dark Spyro returned. “Because I really wanted to feel the love here. Ah, what the hell?” he shrugged before hugging his other self tightly while Spyro just blinked as his dark self practically melted into his body leaving no trace of his presence.
“Okay, now that was just… trippy…” Spyro muttered even as the whole world began to turn white. Soon, he found himself back in the alps of Magic Crafters with Eldrid looking over him.
“You feeling alright Spyro?” the elderly alchemist asked.
“Yeah… I think I’m feeling better than I have in years…” Spyro smiled. Meanwhile, back in the dry canyons of the Peace Keepers realm, Spike sighed to himself as he sat upon a rock.
“...Well, today was a wash…” Spike muttered to himself kicking a pebble into a nearby tar pit. There was the sound of wings flapping from behind Spike, and he turned to see Smolder looking at him, arms crossed with an expression of disappointment.
“...Wow, way to rub it in Smolder,” Spike deadpanned. “You could at least try and fake not being-”
Smolder slapped him upside the head. “Ow, what was that for?”
“Oh, woe is me, so I screwed up!” Smolder drawled. “Now I’ve got to throw myself a pity party! You screwing up is not what I’m disappointed with you for, it’s your attitude that’s the problem,” she said poking him in the chest.
“You saw me today,” Spike exclaimed. “I mean, Lord Torch above, mom must be so disappointed in me…”
Smolder had finally had enough of this one-man pity party of Spike’s as you might have guessed by now and had decided to set him straight. While she may have been a year or two older than the drake, it didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy having him around. He was… fun in a sense. He had a noble quality about him that attracted Smolder to Spike like a magnet of sorts. And she doubted it was just Spyro and Cynder raising him that contributed. Smolder suspected, no she knew it had always been there. Recent events had only just managed to magnify it, that was all.
“Oh, I see the problem,” Smolder said rolling her eyes. “You’re such a mommy’s boy, you know that right? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you’re trying so hard to be her, that you haven’t yet figured it out. And that’s you are not your mother. I mean, look at what you did in Beast Tamers, you created a big warthog for Pete’s sake.”
“Yeah, a big warthog that nearly killed us both,” Spike muttered.
“So?” Smolder asked with a small shrug. “I mean if anything it shows you have potential. I mean, you heard Uncle Bubba right? That was no small feat. So give yourself some more credit eh?” she asked punching him in the arm.
She then said: “I swear, you lurking around and feeling sorry for yourself just doesn’t suit you. You’re the most upbeat guy I know, that’s why I like you.”
Spike began to feel his heart beating that little bit faster and his face flushed again.
“L-Like me?’ Spike stammered out with Smolder now very close to him. “As in… Like like?”
“You dork,” Smolder asked wrapping her arms around him. “What other kind of ‘like’ could I have possibly meant?”
And with that, as the setting sun as their backdrop another day coming to a close, Smolder finally closed the gap between them.