Ponies have always struggled to understand dragons.
On the one hoof, the overwhelming majority of ponies would never see a dragon, let alone meet one, unless they happened to live near the current migration path during that once-a-generation event. The average pony therefore knew next to nothing about dragon culture, biology, or magic. On the other hoof, just about all of those provably uninformed ponies would swear up and down that dragons were nothing more than huge, vicious, greedy, nigh-immortal monsters who would burn down a city as soon as look at it. Equestria's thousand-year history was littered with groups calling out to Celestia to save them from the oncoming draconic horde. A horde that must surely have been about to arrive at any moment after having so many long, peaceful centuries to prepare.
The trouble was that ponies never quite understood the predator mindset. They picked up on the obvious things-- the aggression, the hunting, the territorial instincts --but they did not appreciate the caution. Dragons, namely the mature specimens that every end-is-nigh fearmonger imagined when whipping up the public anxiety, earn their place at the top of the food chain the hard way. Every towering adult began as an egg no larger than a hoofball and hatched little more prepared for the world than a pony foal. It takes centuries of fighting and scraping for survival in the wild lands, far from the luxurious cities of ponies, for an infant to grow to maturity. No dragon, not even the most slug-brained brute, makes it to five-hundred years old without cultivating a healthy level of pragmatism, for no creature is more aware than they that dragons are far from indestructible.
There are a thousand ways for a dragon to die, and an adult will have seen them claim peer after peer until a scant clawful of their generation remains. The ones who make it are the ones who learned to ask themselves two words, two words that have protected Equestria and every other nation in the world since time immemorial:
“Why bother?”
They could raid that small mining down for gems but… why bother? The ponies shipped out their finds too often for there to be a big stockpile, so a decent meal's worth would still need to be dug up. Just dig on the other side of the mountain and skip the trouble.
They could follow that would-be-thief all the way home and raze his town to the ground but… why bother? It'd just stir up the rest of the ponies with their ballistas and their lightning and their spells, and who wants to deal with that? It's a lot easier to just take a nap for a few decades, after which any given annoying pony will probably be gone or too old to cause trouble.
They could attack every pony who passes through the fringes of their territory but… why bother? One good scare every few years or so was enough to remind the ponies just who is at the top of the local food chain and why they should expand their town the opposite direction. Sure, it's fun to chase one around every so often, but it's not like there's going to be a shortage of ponies to terrorize any time soon.
In truth, there was a good chance that the average pony wouldn't find any of that particularly reassuring. Learning that your civilization exists because it's too much trouble to burn it down is something of a cold comfort. Most would probably prefer that the lack of razing was because of Celestia's magical protection, or some ancient, inviolable pact between ancient Equestrian heroes and dragonkind, or even just pure dumb luck. But that was the way things went when ponies learned about dragons. For every one commonality that opened a door towards friendship, there was another difference that set the ponies on edge or, alternatively, into a blind panic.
This was a lesson that Smolder was, albeit inadvertently, being taught by one Princess Twilight Sparkle.
It had all started so innocently. The headmare wanted to learn about dragons, Smolder wanted to eat a huge bowl of gems, it was a win-win. The pony princess had asked a few tame questions about diet, illnesses, lifespan, that sort of thing, until she finally asked for the leading causes of death for dragons.
Smolder was pretty well educated by dragon standards (meaning that she could read, write, and do basic math beyond counting gems), but the dragon educational system was founded on the ancient academic principle of “eh, you'll figure it out”. This meant she didn't have access to a census to base her answers off of so much as she had what she'd heard from other dragons her age, and what her parents had told her to watch out for. So she'd put together a list on the fly that seemed right to her based on what she knew, and called it good.
In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best way she could have handled that. She'd been in a tutoring session with the three younger ponies who ran the school tutoring program when the fallout from that talk with the headmare had reared its head. Before she knew what was happening, she was being dragged along by Counselor Starlight to “help clean up this mess”. Then she'd been sidelined to the hall outside the lounge and told to wait until she was called in. Now she was stuck just listening to a half-muffled argument from across the hall while the three tutors huddled around the door with their ears pressed to the wood so tightly they might have been glued there.
“Be reasonable darling,” Professor Rarity's voice sounded with remarkable clarity, “it's not as though Spike could drown in the middle of a classroom! … Well, yes, I suppose that's-- … I'm certain that-- … Yes, I imagine it could-- … Twilight, you and Starlight are the only unicorns in a hundred miles who could possibly perform a spell like-- put her down this instant! Applejack, a little help?”
“Easy now, sugarcube. Now I know yer worried 'bout Spike, but smotherin' him just ain't gonna work. … Uh, can y'all speak up a little? A mite hard ta hear ya through that there, uh, bubble 'o yours. … Uh-huh. … Now that just don't make a lick 'o sense. … Spike don't even live in a cave! … Er, well, I suppose the castle is-- … Yeah, reckon I-- … Uh, girls, one of y'all might want to step in here, 'cause some of this is startin' ta make sense.”
“Ugh, Applejack, honestly! Fluttershy, darling, if you wouldn't mind?”
What followed was several long minutes of silence in the hallway. The tutors pressed their ears all the harder against the door, but trying to eavesdrop on Professor Fluttershy through a closed door was a fools errand. Funnily enough, she actually lasted the longest against Twilight out of the professors so far before somepony else spoke up.
“Okay, this is getting weird now,” Professor Dash said, probably interrupting Professor Fluttershy. “Twilight, open up already!” If Smolder cupped a claw to her earfrill, she could just make out the sound of hooves beating on a magic barrier. Counselor Starlight's voice heaved a loud sigh.
“Rainbow, that's not going to work.”
“Oh yeah? Well, watch--”
A bright, raspberry pink flash of magic flooded the hall and Professor Dash appeared flying full tilt down the hall before smashing into the wall at the end. Slowly, she slid down and settled on the floor in a heap alongside a stray feather or two.
“…this.”
The lounge door swung inward, sending the gawking tutors sprawling into the lounge at Rarity's hooves.
“Girls! Have you been eavesdropping?”
“Uh…”
“Um…”
“Maaaybe…?”
Smolder snorted. “You haven't really been keeping your voices down, y'know.”
Professor Rarity frowned and shooed the fillies back out of the room with a hoof. “You can all go back to your little office now, girls. We'll take it from here. Smolder? Be a dear and step inside, won't you?”
Professor Dash stumbled to her hooves, grumbling and ruffling her wings while the tutors shuffled past her as slowly as they thought they could get away with. Smolder was willing to bet they were going to stop just around the corner and zip straight back to the door the moment they heard it close. Rarity leaned her head further out into the hall to regard her fellow teacher with a raised eyebrow.
“Really, darling, what did you expect? Now, come along, Smolder.”
Smolder rolled her eyes and made her way across the hallway. She brushed past her fussy teacher then came to a dead stop when she saw what lay beyond the door.
“Whoa.”
A shimmering, raspberry pink barrier dome the size of a garden shed glowed at the far end of the room. Headmare Twilight sat defiantly beneath it on a two pony sofa to the left of a pile of mismatched sporting gear that happened to have a small purple dragon embedded within it almost as an afterthought. Said dragon also wore an utterly deadpan glare on the portion of his face that could be seen through the face guard of his hoofball helmet. The headmare, on the other claw, had a somewhat haggard and mildly deranged glare that spoke of paranoia and a severe lack of sleep. The rest of the main school staff stood around the barrier, including all the professors and Guidance Counselor Starlight.
Professor Applejack stood awkwardly to the left of the bubble, clearly not sure what to do about the situation. Professor Fluttershy stood on the right, attempting to comfort Spike by delicately resting a hoof against the barrier. Counselor Starlight was a few paces away from her, locked into a staring contest with Twilight as her own horn glowed with pale green light. Meanwhile, Professor Pie had gotten on top of the barrier and was bouncing up and down, giggling as the magical energy tickled her hooves with every landing. Professors Rarity and Dash filed in behind Smolder just before the door shut.
“Uh,” Smolder said, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, “what's going on?”
“Smolder!” Twilight said, a little too cheerfully. She broke off her staring contest with the counselor so she could grin much too widely at her student. “Great, you're here! Now YOU can tell everypony that my precautions are entirely reasonable!”
“Uh,” Smolder repeated.
“It's like you said: Predators, slayers, cavern collapses, landslides, and drowning!” Her left eyelid twitched. “I've taken precautions against all of them!”
It was at this moment that Smolder noticed that all the rest of the staff (minus Pinkie and Fluttershy) were now glaring at her. She got a particularly cranky one from Professor Dash as she flapped past and took up a position hovering near Professor Applejack.
“Yeeaah,” Smolder began, slowly. “Did I mention that I don't actually have numbers to back that list up?”
If the headmare heard her, she gave no outward sign beyond another eye twitch which might have been coincidental. “And as soon as we get this all straightened out, I'll be able to get to work on remodeling the castle! I really have been comPLETEly irresponsible this whole time. When I think back on all the obvious mistakes I've been making,” her sentence was interrupted by a series of raspy, gasping barks that might have been a laugh, “well, it's just crazy!”
Smolder considered this for a couple of moments before she turned to the counselor. “Okay, what's going on?”
Counselor Starlight sighed. “In my professional opinion as school counselor… she's overworked. Between the school and her increasing royal workload, she feels out of control and has latched onto protecting Spike as something that can give her a clear sense of purpose.”
Professor Dash snorted. “Or she just hasn't slept in days because she micromanages ALL of the grading!”
“Don't forget the coffee~!” Professor Pie called, each word punctuated by another bounce on the barrier.
“I thought y'all were gonna cut her off?”
Professor Rarity heaved an over-the-top sigh. “Twilight is fully capable of going to Barnyard Bargains for coffee on her own. Or so it would appear.”
“Hey!” the headmare snapped. “I'm right here, you know!”
“Of course you are, darling. It's just that, well… I am trying to be delicate, but--”
“I am NOT 'Twilighting'!”
“Perish the thought, dear! But, you must admit that you are, shall we say, stressed?”
“I am NOT stressed!” Twilight shouted. She sprung to her hooves, wings flared out and tail lashing. “And I am NOT overreacting! I am being completely, one hundred percent rational about the importance of Spike's health and well-being. And there is nothing anypony can say to convince me otherwise!”
“Um, actually…”
Twilight rounded on Professor Fluttershy, grinning ear to ear. “YES!?”
The professor shrank back, then rallied her courage to look the headmare in the eye. “Twilight, you're not thinking clearly, and you need to calm down,” she said firmly.
Headmare Twilight relaxed little and giggled to herself. “Oh, don't be silly! I'm perflectly fline! Perfectly fine! What makes you think anything's wrong?”
“Um, it's just…” The pegasus took a deep breath and raised a hoof to point over Twilight's head. The headmare and everypony else in the room followed the imaginary line with their eyes up to the corner where the outer wall and the ceiling met. The upper third of the wall had receded and reshaped itself into a luxurious theater balcony, complete with rich mahogany railings and curtains the color of vintage wine. The plush seats within were occupied by not one, but three Discords eating popcorn.
The middle Discord lifted his red and blue glasses and leaned forward. “Oh, don't mind me. Please,” a slightly sinister grin snaked across his face, “continue!”
Twilight sat down. Hard.
“Okay. Okay, you… may have a point. I just--” she looked around the room, eyes scanning over her friends, her student, the barrier, and the pile of sports equipment formerly known as Spike. She rubbed a fetlock against her eyes. “I'm doing it again, aren't I?”
A murmur of relieved agreement rippled around the room.
“If'n it's any consolation,” Applejack stepped forward, right to the edge of the barrier, “I know how ya feel. I'm sure y'all remember what happened with me and Apple Bloom. Somepony ya care about is growin' up, and ya don't know how to handle it, right? You're worried sick that you're doin' it all wrong and they ain't ready. But ya can't protect him from everything. If ya go 'n hide him away to keep him safe from dyin', yer gonna keep him safe from livin' too.”
Twilight's ears drooped. “But I can't just ignore what Smolder told me!”
Smolder ran a claw over her crest. “Uh, yeah, about that. I was sorta winging it with that list. You'd really have to ask the Dragon Lord for the last Counting. And besides, Spike isn't like other dragons. He wasn't kicked out to fend for himself. He doesn't have to find his own food or hide from predators or fight with other dragons over a pile of gems. Seriously, do you have any idea what a sweet deal living in a place like this is for dragons our age? Timberwolves are easy compared to hydras. Plus, he has all of you!” She waved her arms in a sweeping gesture over all of the assembled ponies. “He's got friends on all sides who will protect him from anything! He's probably the safest kid in Equestria!”
The headmare slumped a little. She took a long look over her shoulder at Spike, then sighed and dropped her barrier… and was promptly flattened by Professor Pie.
“Whoopsie! Sorry, Twilight!”
Starlight set Pinkie on her hooves and settled Twilight back on the sofa with her magic before she got to work on digging Spike free.
“I'm sorry everypony,” Twilight mumbled.
Rarity brushed past Smolder, favoring her with a nod and smile before moving to her friend's side.
“Think nothing of it, darling. It's nothing a little sleep won't cure. When did you sleep last?”
“Er,” Twilight ducked her head a little, “Three days?”
Professor Dash's jaw dropped. “Three DAYS!?”
“Land's sakes, no wonder y'all're actin' up!”
“Whatever were you thinking!?”
“There's just so much to do!” the headmare protested. “Ever since Celestia and Luna said they want me to take over, I've been studying everything I can find on Equestrian law and governance, but there's still so much to do for the school, and I can't give it to Starlight because she's already overworked, and all of you already have other jobs, and Spike needs his time to spend with his friends and--”
“Okay, sloooow down,” Rainbow Dash cut in. “We can handle all the work junk later. Right now, you need some serious downtime.”
Spike, finally free from the confines of his safety gear, slipped off the couch to stand next to Twilight. She immediately reached out and pulled him into a hug.
“I'm so sorry, Spike, I don't know what got into me.”
Spike hugged her back. “It could've been worse. I know you just wanted to protect me.”
“I'm not really sure you need my protection,” Twilight relaxed her grip so she could look Spike in the eye. “I could barely make that roc flinch, but you drove it off with one flame. You can fly now, and you're only going to get bigger and tougher. Pretty soon you won't need me at all.”
“I'm always gonna need you, Twilight. I'm pretty sure you're always gonna be smarter than me, and I'll always need your advice. Just maybe let me handle some stuff on my own, okay?”
She reeled him back into a hug. “Deal.”
“You know,” he said, slyly, “if you really want to make it up to me, you could always let me have a tub of ice cream.”
Twilight giggled. “Oh… fine. But after dinner, mister. And the stomach ache is on your head.” The pair shared a laugh and parted, Twilight rubbing at her eyes again. “The worst part is, I don't even know how to give you advice. It's like flying lessons all over again. I just don't know how dragons handle their problems.”
“No kidding,” Smolder mumbled under her breath. She glanced over her shoulder at the door. Nopony was looking at her so she could probably sneak away without them noticing. Or…
Her eyes wandered back to Spike. She couldn't even imagine what it must've been like, being raised by ponies. How would it feel to the only one of your species around, surrounded by creatures who didn't understand you or how to live with you? He couldn't even laugh properly without risking hurting everyone around him. His reaction to the Molt was funny at the time but, looking back, he was probably scared out of his mind. He'd never had his parents to tell him what was coming. He'd never had a mother to teach him how to find gems, or a big brother to teach him how to claw-wrestle, or how to do a fire duel. He never got to sit around a fumarole with other dragons his age, telling stories and steaming fish in the hot fumes. Sure, Ponyville life was pretty sweet, but there was so much he was missing out on.
Things that Smolder found herself missing, too. Their trip to visit Garble at the Hatching Grounds had reminded her of all the stuff she couldn't do with her other friends. Dragon stuff. She'd already been teaching him a little about fire-breathing contests and flying techniques since Sludge came to town. Would it really be so hard to step that up a notch?
She squared her shoulders and stepped forward.
“I'll teach you.”
Twilight and Spike both looked at her, wide eyed.
“You will?” Spike asked.
She shrugged. “Why not? I can't do a worse job than Sludge did.”
“But, you just said you weren't even sure about the leading causes of death,” Twilight said.
“I might not know the actual numbers on predators, but I know how to avoid them. Plus all the other things that can get a dragon killed. Besides, there's LOTS more to being a dragon than just flying lessons and breathing fire. I always kinda figured you weren't interested in the serious stuff, but I can teach you everything I know if you want.”
Spike's wings flared out excitedly while his grin almost split his face in two. “Really!? That'd be great! When can we start?”
“Later,” Starlight interrupted before Twilight could even open her mouth. Twilight cringed a little.
“That's probably a good idea. I could really use some sleep.”
“I suppose this means that the show's over,” Discord lamented, making the whole group jump. He dropped down from the now absent balcony and tossed his popcorn aside. “Ah well, it was fun while it lasted. Do let me know if you need to take a vacation. I'd be happy to fill in as vice head-draconequus again.”
All eyes turned to a suddenly uneasy Starlight Glimmer. “Er… sure! That sounds… great.”
Discord flashed them all a crooked grin then tugged sharply on his beard, rolled himself up like a window shade, and vanished.
Twilight turned back to her friends.
“Was I really that bad?”