//------------------------------// // Chapter 16: Rivals for Life // Story: Our Little Brother, Spike // by Hope Caster //------------------------------// A week and a half passed. Ember had not seen her father since her mother ordered him out of the cave. Ember asked why her father wasn’t allowed back in the cave, and why’d he been kicked out to begin with.  “He used his authority in a way that was hurtful, Ember,” Blaze had explained, sorrow present in her voice. “I know why he did it, but it doesn’t change that he hurt us both. I need some time away from him. You’ll see him soon, though, don’t you worry.” It was easier than saying Torch had treated her more like a servant than an equal, and Blaze wasn’t sure if she could trust him again. She suspected that with time, she would be able to think differently, but for now the wound was just too raw. Ember fared no better. Despite her ankle healing, she only ever ate a gem or two and sulked the rest of the day away. This wasn’t healthy. She needed to be outside running about, eating a full three meals a day, and laughing. Then came the third day after Ember’s ankle was healed, and Blaze nudged her daughter, who was still curled up on the floor. “Ember, it’s time to get up.” “I don’t wanna,” Ember sniffed. “You don’t have a choice in the matter, you need to get out. It’s not good for you to be cooped up in here.” Blaze let out a sigh. “I know it’s hard, but you need to go outside. It might feel like it, but the world hasn’t ended, sweetheart. You just need to go outside to see it.” Her daughter remained curled on the floor. Sighing, a reluctant Blaze gently nudged Ember’s prone little body over the dusty cavern floor, towards the entrance of the cave, until she was outside. Ember squinted as the sun hit her face. She grunted and stood up, murmuring to herself, keeping her eyes covered while they adjusted to the light. With a groan, she tried to take a step back, only to bump into her mother’s snout and get nudged back outside. Evidently, Blaze was not giving her a choice in the matter. So she let her shoulders slump and finally stepped out, moving without direction. Blaze followed her every step of the way. When they came to the quarry, Blaze waited on the outer edge with the rest of the parents, while Ember proceeded down to where the whelps played. It was a long shot, but Ember prayed none of them recalled her father’s order. She saw Clump, and memories from a year ago resurfaced. She wanted a rematch. Surreptitiously, she spent a good five minutes digging, and found an adequate gem to wager. Taking a deep breath, she called out to the fat dragon. Clump’s eyes turned to pinpricks upon seeing Ember approach him. Ember tossed her gem at his feet. “You against me, the winner gets the loser's gem.” “Just take it,” Clump said, throwing his gem next to hers, “I’m not about to get killed!”  Before she could respond, Clump had already dashed off, joining a group of whelps for safety. In anger, Ember picked up Clump’s gem, and threw it as far as she could. She wasn’t about to be given a gem, she was going to win one. Her sights turned to Fume and she tried again. Soon, she had been given at least a dozen gems and had thrown just as many away. They all remembered, all the whelps. Of course they did. Her father was the Dragon Lord. Falling to the ground in defeat, her lip began to quiver. ‘Keep it together,’ she thought to herself. ‘Keep it together. Keep it together.’ She kept repeating this over and over to herself until something brushed the back of her neck. It was a small, steady wisp of fire. Letting out a yelp of surprise, and doing her best not to burst into giggles as the flames tickled her scales, Ember launched herself forward before turning to face whoever had dared assault her. “Finally!” Garble snorted, “I was starting to think you were ignoring me.” Ember raised an eyebrow. She recalled that Garble was explicitly ordered to stay away from her. So it was a bit confusing to watch as Grable started to circle her, as if looking for something. He spoke at last. “Where is it?” “Where is what?” “The pink diamond.” She could recall that her mother had given her a pink diamond to eat earlier in the week, but once she had, Blaze had looked borderline horrified. “I ate it. How’d you know ‘bout the diamond my Mom gave me?” “You ate it!? You were supposed to bring it with you!” Garble shouted at her. “I gave it to you so I could win it back! Now you owe me a pink diamond!” “What?” Ember retorted, wide-eyed. “I don’t owe you anything! My Mom gave it to me.” “I gave it to your Mom, so she could give it to you, so I could fight you and take it back!” “Well, if that’s even true, that’s stupid! I’m not allowed to fight, and you’re not supposed to get close to me.” Ember turned away, thinking the memory would soon scare him off. “I don’t care about that,” Garble scoffed. Ember perked up and she turned again, surprised. “You don’t?” “No, cos’ it’s a dumb rule, and you know it!” Garble answered, throwing up his arms. “We’re dragons, we fight! I fight, my sister fights, even my brother’s going to fight and he’s winning on his first punch! Your Dad’s just being dumb, like you when you ate my diamond.” “I wasn’t dumb! Mom never said anything about you, and even if she did, you wouldn’t have won it back!” “Wanna bet?” he asked, smirking at her. Ember’s eyes narrowed, and she pounced. The tussle was brief, as her two-week recovery had left Ember a bit rusty, which Garble soon took advantage of. He pushed her off balance, before tackling her to the ground, pinning her. “Easy!” Garble proclaimed, getting off his opponent. “You owe me a pink diamond.” Growling to herself, Ember made herself glare daggers at him, but she was biting her lower lip to keep from smiling. Garble was the biggest jerk in the whole world. So she didn’t hold back as her fist made contact with his cheek. It knocked him slightly askew, yet his only response to the punch was a wide grin. “Wanna fight for real?” She felt just the smallest twinge of excitement, her eyes going from narrow to wide. A real fight, with Garble no less. Ember gave him a nod, and tried to collect herself. Her body began trembling as they took their starting positions. It took all of Ember’s willpower to keep herself from squealing in pure delight. She had dreamt of this moment, lived it in her dreams. Once she beat him, he would have to admit that she was the future Dragon Lord, and then he’d be her Paladin. And thus indeed, Ember moved quicker than he’d have expected, swiftly punching Garble once, twice, three times. Then she pushed her luck and went for a fourth strike, her excitement clouding her judgement, and Garble caught her fist. Cursing, Ember berated herself internally for getting carried away. She should have gotten some distance, and waited, tiring him out just like she had with Arrow. Garble was smug, though, too smug for his own good. After getting that first hit in, he’d likely let her go so he could mock her. Ember was already fuming at the thought. However, it would give her time to recover, plan, and most of all, the time she needed to distance herself. She readied herself for the inevitable hit. Only, what happened was that Garble pulled Ember forward and his fist collided with her gut, which sent her to her knees, leaving her winded. Regret and guilt instantly surged through his body. Garble recalled when he’d carried her, how dirty he’d felt when she started crying. This was a hundred times worse. It was as if he had betrayed his purpose in life, and spat in the eye of Bahamut himself. He let go of her wrist and slowly backed away. “I’m not fighting anymore,” Garble said quietly. Groaning, Ember asked, “We’re finally fighting, and you’re giving up!? Why!? Is it because you think I can’t take it, or are you just scared of my Dad?” She slowly stood up so she could meet his eyes, continuing to glare at him. “Neither,” Garble mumbled. “I-" He paused for a moment, turning a slightly darker shade of red, "I just don’t like hitting girls.” “What was that?” “I don’t like hitting girls!” Garble said, much louder this time. It was not what she was expecting him to say. Although, it did explain a few things. Like why he never hit Scales whenever she got a bit too clingy, or why he’d only ever pinned or restrained her in a fight until now. “Why?” Ember asked. “We’re dragons, we’re supposed to fight each other!” “It feels wrong.” Always, there was always something in her way. She put her hands over her face and groaned in frustration, just as a deep voice snarled at them. “You little wretch!” The two whelps froze in fear as a shadow fell over them. ‘Dad,’ Ember thought to herself. The ground shook thunderously when the Dragon Lord landed. “Ember, find your mother, now!” Torch ordered, pointing a huge forefinger. Ember shot her father a look of ire, before reluctantly obeying. No sooner had she gone, Torch snorted a hot plume of smoke straight at Garble. “You. You dare to disobey me and lay a claw on her!?” Garble waved away the smoke, after a short coughing fit. He shot a glare at Torch, something that no whelp had dared do. By all logic, Garble should have been a trembling mess, at a loss for words. Instead, he was feeling defiant.  “Yeah, and I’d do it again!” Garble snapped. Torch’s face twisted in fury and disbelief. “You’re rule is stupid! Ember was winning that fight until she tripped.” “I don’t care how well you think she did. She got hurt,” Torch hissed. “Like how you just hurt her.” Garble looked down at his feet, but his defiant feeling hadn’t abated. “You helped her once, so I will give you one last warning. You shall stay away from her, or else.” Garble raised his head, and met Torch’s look with one of equal intensity. “Or else what?” “Seventy-two, s-seventy-three, s-seventy-” Garble let out a gasp as he collapsed to the ground.  As much as Torch was loath to admit it, there was not much he could do to Garble, not without incurring the combined wrath of the entire Ironscale clan, their allied clans, Blaze or every Paladin of Bahamut in a radius of twenty-five miles. The best-case scenario if he directly hurt Garble was that he’d be stripped of his title and branded a Dog of Tiamat, before getting exiled from the Dragonlands. So, Torch had given Garble a difficult, gruelling task instead. 200 push-ups. The whelp would have to be a fool to endure such punishment every time he fought Ember. “Rest,” Torch grumbled. “Once you can move, I expect one-hundred and twenty-six more.” Garble couldn’t help but let himself collapse to the ground. Yet when he next looked at Torch, his own glare was as strong as ever “I’m fighting her tomorrow,” he gasped, catching his breath. “Then you and I will be back here tomorrow,” snarled Torch. ‘Worth it,’ Garble privately thought, before resuming his punishment. “Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty-” Witnessing her mate punishing Garble had lit a rage within Blaze, but as she still held on to a basic sense of social etiquette, she deemed it best to leave the quarry with Ember, lest she wind up making a scene. Still, there was one thing about the event which shocked her, and this was how happy Ember seemed to her. Outwardly, Ember was still pouty, but there were subtle mannerisms to her demeanor that a mother could pick up on. Her stopping mid-sentence to bite her lip? It was because Ember wanted to stop herself from smiling. Marching about the cave all while she complained, but pivoting on one foot to turn around? Ember’s version of twirling. And her claiming Garble was a complete moron who used underhanded tactics to get her attention, but insisting that they still battle? Code for ‘I’m glad to have a friend’. “He actually hit me this time!” Ember happily recollected. Blaze felt a twinge of worry. While it was normal for dragons to get into scuffles, she didn’t feel comfortable hearing that anyone had punched her daughter, even if it was part of something that would make Ember happy. She watched as her daughter’s smile fell. “But then he wanted to stop. He said he didn’t like hitting girls.” “Oh... And how did you react to that?” “I got mad. But I guess it makes sense. A Paladin shouldn’t be hitting his future Dragon Lord; he’d be doing the exact opposite of his job!” That elicited a small chuckle from Blaze. “He would be, wouldn’t he?” “It got worse after he hit me. You saw Dad.” “Yes, I did,” Blaze nodded. “But… Garble didn’t even look scared when he was being yelled at. Mom, do you think we’ll be able to fight again?”  “Would be splendid if you could.” Blaze replied. She felt a twinge of guilt encouraging Ember to go against Torch’s wishes. However, she still could feel the sting of his abusive order. Ember was her daughter as much as Torch’s. She definitely had a say in who Ember could and could not see. Besides, Ember was smiling, all thanks to a little whelp brave and stupid enough to go against the Dragon Lord himself. Such an act deserved a reward, and Blaze knew just what it should be. Spike huffed poutily. “I can’t believe the Dragon Lord is a big jerk.” Garble had been chewed out by Torch himself, then their father, and finally their mother. Fortunately, Garble that was all that happened to him, their parents having decided that Torch’s labor was punishment enough. Garble mumbled something Spike couldn’t make out. There was a sudden commotion near the mouth of the cave. “We already scolded him,” their father bellowed, “what else do you need?” “Flare,” their mother scolded, “do not speak to her like that!” “Amber, he’s got every right to feel upset,” they heard Blaze say. “And I apologize for anything the Dragon Lord did. I’ll handle him as soon as I take care of business here. You’ll have nothing to worry about going forward.” “You had better! Why, my son defends his whelp, and then he- Ow!” “Flare, don’t you say another word,” said their mother, the signs pointing in all three children’s heads that she’d likely just bonked their father on the head. “Blaze, what do you need to talk with Garble about?” “I wanted to give him something,” Blaze said. “It shouldn’t take too long.” Their mother called for Garble. Garble remained in his spot. She called for him again. Again he ignored her. She called a third time, this time in a warning tone.  “Garbuncle Ironscale, come out here. Now.” Garble groaned, lifting himself up as Spike called to the front of the cave. “He’s coming, Mama, I just needed help with a few words!” Spike really was too kind to him. Garble couldn’t name a single dragon that would have covered for him like Spike. Once he was far enough away, though, Smolder came to Spike’s side, watching anxiously. “What do you think she’s gonna give him?” Spike asked. “I bet it's a treasure, like-like a sword, or a magic crown or something!” “I dunno, maybe a gem or, oh, or-or-or Ember's hand.” Smolder said, hopping about excitedly in her spot. “Maybe they’re gonna get betrothed!” This was a word she’d just learned from their mother, and she’d unfortunately grown obsessed with the fantasy thanks to her princess books. At this, Spike stuck his tongue out in disgust. “That’s dumb.” “You’re dumb!” Smolder snapped back. Unaware of his siblings’ bickering, Garble soon came before the Lord Consort. By all rights, he would have done something to give her a show of respect. Yet he was feeling too exhausted now to give anything more than a slight wave. “There you are,” Blaze smiled at the young drake. Still, she pressed a claw to the scruff of Garble’s neck. “Come, let’s you and I talk outside.” “Am I in trouble?” Garble asked, resisting the urge to push off her claw. “No, quite the opposite, young dragon,” Blaze assured him. “I wanted to give you something for what you did for Ember.”  Garble blinked as his feet trod upon outside ground. “Carrying her?” “No,” Blaze said, coming to a stop and circling around to gaze down upon him. “For what it is that you said to her, and did for her today. Did you know that besides me, not one dragon had ever told her she was strong?”  “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Garble said with a shrug. “Does this mean I can still play with her?” “I think so, but I need to have a chat with my mate about it. Torch worries about Ember, too much in my opinion. Never mind that, though. Here, Garble. As thanks.” Blaze opened her spare claw, presenting Garble with a sheathed knife. He looked at the gift curiously. It looked nice. The grip appeared a little too big for him now, but once he’d grown bigger, it’d fit him perfectly. He took it, and gazed up towards Blaze. “Go on. Unsheathe it.” Garble did as he was told, giving the knife a pull, to slowly reveal the blade. Spotting the glittering silver metal, Garble’s mouth fell open, his eyes turning into saucers. “Platinum,” he mouthed in an amazed whisper. “True Platinum,” Blaze corrected. True Platinum was not just a valuable metal. It was sacred to dragons. Platinum was said to be the metal which Bahamut’s roar ripped from the ground during the dawn of creation, the metal he’d enchanted and forged into his body. It was the metal used by his Paladins to cull the Dogs of Tiamat. The metal forged into the crown of the first Dragon Lord Sardior, Maker of the Bloodstone Scepter, the only dragon to be handpicked by Bahamut himself to rule dragonkind. It was said platinum could harm malevolent spirits on contact and protect dragons from foul magics. Being one of the strongest metals in the world, only the Paladins and Priests of Bahamut knew the method to enchant and refine the element, a secret that they guarded with their lives. “Why?” Even Garble understood that anyone giving him such a treasure was absurd. A gem? Maybe. A knife like this? His father had told him of dragons who had died fighting over the tiniest speck of the metal. Yet here was the Lady Blaze, handing him a blade forged from it. “It’s simple. What you did for Ember is worth just as much as that knife. Torch can be overbearing at times… Bordering on the unwittingly cruel. You have no idea how happy you made her. Garble, I want you to consider that knife the centerpiece of your hoard. You’re three years away from your molt, correct? No reason you shouldn’t start building one.” Garble sheathed the blade. He held it close to his chest, grinning. Spike was going to go insane when he saw this. So would Smolder. His friends would be amazed and envious, and just imagining when he showed it off to Ember! He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face. “I’m glad you’re happy,” Blaze said with a giggle. “Run along now, I need to get back to my daughter, and I think you’ll wish to show off your treasure to your siblings.” Grinning from ear to ear now, Garble nodded frantically and dashed back into the cave, crying for his family. On the surface, the knife did seem rather plain-looking. The sheath which held it was itself metallic, but a dull metal, painted black. “What does it look like? Take it out,” Spike urged, anxious to see a real weapon, somewhat hoping that he’d get to hold it. Ever the big brother, Garble complied, and unsheathed the sacred weapon for his family to see. His parents’ mouths fell wide agape, Spike’s eyes went round. Oddly, Smolder was looking rather disinterested. The blade was a light silver in color, its twinkle like that of stars glistening in the night. while the knife’s hilt was gilded silver and the handle wrapped in leather. Best of all, the rounded pommel had a fire-ruby stud embedded in the very bottom. “Garble, are you sure Blaze gave you that as a present?” his mother asked. She was shocked to receive a nod.  Spike marveled at the knife. He had always dreamt of having his own weapon, ever since reading Burnferno. “That’s so cool! Can I hold it?” Before Garble could answer, Flare spoke up sternly. “Before anyone holds anything I want to show you all something regarding that knife,” he said, laying his fist on the ground. “Heathspike, Smolderessense, listen closely. I want the two of you to try and scratch me.” His whelps stared at him in confusion. “But I hurt Spike last time-” said Smolder. “I know, but this is important. Just this once, the rule is rescinded so long as you attack me.”  Spike tilted his head at a word he didn’t know. “It means you can break it and I won’t punish you,” explained Flare. Cautiously, Smolder and Spike crept forward and hit their father. The punches they threw landed weakly at best. Flare rolled his eyes. “I know you two are stronger than that. Hard as you can now, go on.” They obeyed, and were relieved when they saw no injury. Then they slashed again, and again, and again, slowly breaking into giggles as they assaulted their father. It was like a game. Soon, the pair collapsed in exhaustion, though their laughs still echoed through the cave. There was not a single scratch on him, as expected. “Good try, very good try,” Flare said softly. “Now, Garble, use your knife. And don’t stab it in, just try to make it a shallow cut.” Uncertain where this was going, Garble placed the knife upon his father’s claw. Moving slowly, he slid the blade just a bit along the thick scales and drew blood. The knife fell to the floor with a clatter as the whelps jumped back, terrified. “Th-that’s not supposed to happen,” stammered Spike. Even Smolder looked shaken, her face pale. Flare’s voice was very quiet. “In most cases, you’re right. I can scarcely name anything that can cut us Ironscales. Keep in mind, True Platinum is said to make up the very scales of Bahamut. So, if Bahamut is the dragon above all dragons, why would our scales be stronger than his?” He put his claw to his mouth, and began to suck on the wound. He could see something of understanding in their eyes, but the knife still terrified them. “Pick up the knife, Garble. This is an important lesson.” Garble stepped forward, picking his knife up once again. There was a new weight to it now. He took a deep breath, wiped the blade with a rag Amber silently handed him, and sheathed it. “See?” Flare said, in a gentler tone. “It’s just a knife. It’s not hurting you nor your siblings.” “But it can,” Garble whispered, eyes locked on the small trickle of blood that escaped his father’s claw. “Yes, but only if you use it irresponsibly. Treat it like it’s a toy, and dragons can get hurt. However, if you treat it like a weapon, it will serve you well.”  Garble looked at his newly-sheathed knife, before wordlessly lumbering to his sleeping spot and placing it gingerly down there, feeling conscious of both his siblings and his parents’ silent, watching gaze. He wouldn’t need it anytime soon, so he would build a hoard around it. Just like Lady Blaze had suggested he do. There was something nerve-wracking about seeing Torch after so long. But what exactly could she be frightened of? Blaze knew Torch well enough that he’d never strike her, anymore than he could order her about. Well, the latter was not entirely true; he could give her an order she’d be unable to refuse on the spot, but if he did that again, it would make her choice all the more clear. True, part of her missed him. The part of her which just wanted to forgive him and be done with their little spat. Maybe she would eventually, but she still needed time. And he needed much more than that. She entered her mate’s cave. Despite herself, Blaze felt a twinge of pity for him. His private cave was rather small compared to the cave they shared as a family. It was large enough for Torch, but it felt so cold and lonely inside. However, this wasn’t about Torch, she reminded herself. This was about Ember and her playmates. Blaze cleared her throat, which instantly gained Torch’s attention. “Who do you think-” He stopped himself upon seeing his mate standing at the cave’s entrance. “Blaze,” Torch said, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. He took a few steps towards his mate, only for her step back, causing him to stop in confusion.. “Lord Torch,” Blaze said, bowing her head. Throughout his life, Torch had been punched, slashed, beaten and had his bones snapped. Any pain inflicted on him paled in comparison to what his mate had just done. ‘Lord Torch’ was but a formal greeting, a sign of respect given to him by his subjects. Blaze was not supposed to be one of his subjects, she was supposed to be his equal. “Blaze, please don’t-” His mare held up a claw, silencing him instantly. “Please, my Lord, I request that you allow me to speak, if that is permitted.”  Some part of him knew he deserved this. That didn’t mean it couldn’t sting. “Speak.” “Thank you,” Blaze said coolly. “I heard you scolded a whelp who was playing with my daughter. I ask that you let me raise my child as I see fit, and stop meddling in our affairs.” There was no priest accompanying her, hence it stood to reason that he and she were still wed. At least on a technical level. The way she was speaking to him, though, it was as if a priest had not only declared their vows to be void, but had stripped him of all access to Ember. Except that hadn’t happened, so did he not still have a right to raise Ember as he saw fit? “And what does your mate say?” Torch said tonelessly. “Honestly, I don’t know if I have one at the moment.” She didn’t know if she had one? Rage, sorrow, regret, and a slew of other emotions ran through Torch. What was this about? The rule, or his order? Perhaps it was both. Was he just supposed to be a slave to all her demands? No, no dragon would dare want that. Blaze didn’t want a slave nor a master, she wanted a partner. He needed to compromise. He could opt to rescind the rule for any girls Ember whom spent time with at gatherings. And for the Ironscale brat, if it meant that much to them. But if that little red troublemaker ever upset his princess, he’d reinstate his rule within the hour. “Alright. She’s free to play with any girls at a gathering,” Torch sighed. “And the red one. The red one only. Should I see any drake sneer at her, or if that runt touches her in a way I don’t like, I won’t hesitate to put my foot down.” For emphasis, he stomped his foot on the cavern floor, creating a few cracks in the ground as dust fell from the ceiling around them. “Understood,” Blaze said, as the reverberations subsided. It was better than she’d expected him to grant, “Thank you for your kindness.” With a bow, Blaze turned and began to leave. One last chance, then. “Wait. How is Ember?” “Pouty,” spoke the back of Blaze’s head. “She misses you very much.” “Please let her know…” Torch said, his voice quivering and him hoping she wouldn’t notice, while perhaps also hoping that she did. “I miss her as well.” “Consider it done.” Torch remained standing tall until his mate was completely out of the cave. As soon as Blaze was gone, he collapsed on his stomach, and let out a disappointed sigh. Couldn’t she talk to him about why she was so upset? Then again, why wasn’t he any good at talking about what he’d done wrong, or better yet, apologize for it. Maybe he simply wasn’t ready to let go. They’d forgive each other someday, he hoped. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Little did either dragon know that day would come sooner than they expected it to.