//------------------------------//
// Hearth and Home - Part 1 
// Story: King of Diamonds 
// by Midnightshadow 
//------------------------------//

          ♠♣♥♦King of
Diamonds
                              The Ambassador's Son - Book 2
═════════════════════════════════════


Chapter 13
Hearth and Home
Part 1
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow




    The train pulled into Gaskin Path, the whistle howling shrilly with a great billow of steam. The four teamsters, weary and grimy from their long haul, were unhitched from their harnesses and led away to water. The small, lonely station was momentarily busy with what passed for traffic in that remote corner of nowhere as the train was swiftly unloaded, reloaded and prepared for the rest of its trip. A couple of local weather pegasi dumped a whole cumulonimbus' worth of rain into the water-tank and four new teamsters were smoothly and quickly hitched up to the engine. The platform then rapidly cleared of passengers and freight, and with a great deal of huffing and puffing, the locomotive picked up speed and moved Eastwards towards Neighvada.
A few minutes later, the only people left at the station were a weary, bleary-eyed group consisting of ponies, griffons, a diamond dog and a dragon, and their little painted wagon full of travel supplies.
"Come on guys, last stretch," said Chip, yawning.
"Easy for you to say," grumbled Penny, "you don't have to pull dead weight."
"I can—" Chip yawned again "—pull if you want. It'll take a bit longer to get home though."
"Stuff it, scale-boy. I just wanna go home," grumbled Penny, with uncharacteristic gruffness. "My feathers itch, my tail's sore and I haven't had a good meal since Stalliongrad. Five days ago." The pegasus ruffled her feathers, shaking them out as she stomped into the harness.
Chip's ears drooped dejectedly. "I'm sorry! I thought you had fun, you know? It was fun, wasn't it?"
Penny grumbled something incoherent, biting her legs from the fetlock to pastern as she sought to quash an itch. Hairpin trotted alongside the grouchy pegasus and rubbed her head along the filly's barrel soothingly. Giving the Penny a motherly mane-grooming, she admonished the younger pegasus: "Language like that from a filly like you!"
Grumbling again, but less flagrantly, Penny raised her head and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just tired. I don't travel well and I want to go home. It's been exhausting."
Chip lowered his head and looked at the ground bashfully, rubbing his aching muzzle on his leg to hide the blush. "I'm sorry too," he mumbled. "I didn't know all this would happen."
"I suppose you couldn't," Penny said with a scowl, then grinned slightly. "But next time we go on an adventure like this, make sure I don't have to haul your backside halfway across Equestria!" Penny scowled again, but she couldn't keep it up when Hairpin started giggling. "That's not fair!" she moaned. "It's hard work!"
"I know, my little pony, but if you want to grow big and strong, and be the fastest flyer in all of Equestria, you've got to push yourself. My old master Pig Iron had me practice bringing kegs of ale up from the cellar, once I got big enough." Hairpin eased herself into the restraints next to Penny, aided by the helpful Carmine and Beth. "It was character building, like this is."
Chip, Bella and Ruff saw to securing the cargo and themselves in the wagon, and the griffons saw to the two pegasi, making sure they were comfortably snug. Once their job was done, the two griffons stretched in the early morning sun before taking to the skies. They circled lazily, with long, slow beats of their wings. The darkened desert around the group had been slowly growing brighter, culminating in the appearance of Celestia's sun as it rose above the horizon. Their spirits rose as did the temperature, the glare burning the night's frost off the surrounding flora. The day would be one of the last of the year above freezing – winter was approaching, even for the hot and dry desert. Soon enough, the storm clouds would be rolling in, thick and heavy with snow, towed by the travelling weather-caravans of the South.
"Come on, guys, let's go. Time's wastin'!" cried Carmine as she swooped low over the carriage, her crest rising up above her pink-hued head-feathers. "Time to head home!"
"I guess you're right, Chip," huffed Penny as she and Hairpin started to trot. "It has been fun, I guess."
"I'm glad you were with me. I... needed you with me. All of you," Chip said, grinning weakly as the small wagon picked up speed. The smooth concrete platform gave way to rough, pothole-strewn dirt road, and the conveyance started to jostle and bounce. Moments later, the two pegasi stretched their wings and leapt skywards, and the carriage swooped after them. The ground fell away, scenery dwindling until it was toy-sized, like a chequer blanket spread out below them.
"It's been amazing, awful and terrifying but... I'd do it all again," affirmed Penny, glancing over her shoulder. "Now though, I just want to get home. I miss Mom and Dad."
"Then let's go," agreed Chip.
"Aye," said Bella, a wicked grin on her muzzle, "giddy up!"
"Ruff want home," sighed the diamond dog pup, shivering. "Ruff want home very much."


♠♣♥♦


The throne chamber, secure at the very heart of the changeling Hive Citadel, was cavernous yet close. Situated deep underground, it was the protected from all save the most determined and capable of intruders. The thump thump thump of the air-pumps provided a comforting background ambience, almost hypnotic in quality. Vein-like channels in the superstructure pulsated with life-energy emitted by the queen. They glowed faintly, illuminating the various exits in the walls and ceiling.
The changeling queen shifted on her chitin-covered throne and brooded as she waited for her operatives to present themselves. The throne had been fashioned from the corpse of a rival or consort of some sort, she couldn't really remember which. Possibly both. Chitin lasted a long time, the original owner hadn't. The throne chamber appeared empty, but flickers of blue in the shadowy darkness betrayed her subjects' locations. They were watching and waiting to see if their queen, Emerald, was in a mood to punish or reward. The Hive in the back of her mind was subdued and tense, crackling with her own supressed emotions.
The three remaining changelings from the aborted mission in Stalliongrad had merged their intellects with the Hive gestalt, and were on their way to an audience. Comforting thoughts of welcome had begun flowing to them upon their return, lessening the pain of their prolonged exile. Changelings could act alone, but not for long; separation from the Hive brought great anguish, and eventually death. Only the queen was able to stand as a distinct mind within or apart from the Hive, but even she needed the song of her people to be truly at peace. Without a queen, the Hive was nothing.
The Hive ached with desire for their memories to be shared, much as their purloined emotions already had been, but the queen demanded her due. The three prostrated themselves in front of their ruler, angular horns touching the floor. Their gossamer wings fluttered in agitation, fear and love. An audience with the queen was bliss for the changelings, especially after their trials. The aura of love she gave off was palpable and they bathed in it, relishing the nourishing warmth. The audience came at a price, though; they had failed their mistress. The failure was painful and distasteful. It tinged her gifts to them, a sour note in an otherwise glorious aria within their minds and bodies.
Deciding to be kind, Queen Emerald exerted control over her emotions. Pure love and affection flowed through her to the Hive. The silent praise lifted the spirits of the whole Hive. This was her power, and her responsibility. Her people depended on an energy they could not generate for themselves. Unfed drones were not just unhappy drones, they were listless and incapable of the tasks required of them.
"Rise, my subjects, and report on your mission," Emerald said, her voice carrying to the far reaches of the chamber. "Aloud, please. I shall digest your Sharings fully later."
"Yes, my Queen," said one, rising to his hooves. He was followed by the others.
Emerald eyed the speaker thoughtfully as he began to speak. He had no truly distinguishing features now he was in his common form. His skin was black and chitinous, his eyes burned a light blue, his horn was jagged and pointy and his wings were translucent and fragile. The soft breeze from the air-pumps that kept the hive-air clean and fresh flowed through the holes in his legs. Turning slightly, he made them whistle. This idle action – partly a nervous tick, partly just idiosyncratic behaviour – had given him an actual name, Whistler. This penchant towards independent thought had lead to his being picked for the mission. Once, long ago, he had been a pony. Now, he was through and through an agent for his queen, Emerald. She had no doubts about that, and he welcomed it. It was troubling to recall life before the Hive, but he couldn't deny it was useful at times. It had helped him and his cell escape, though three others had died.
He told the queen, haltingly as speech wasn't something he was used to, about their tracking down of the dragon-led party, about their run-ins with other forces that had complicated matters, and of their final, crushing defeat by the dragons that protected Stalliongrad.
Emerald was quiet for a while, pondering. Then she stood up from her throne and approached her minions. They hastily bowed, wings buzzing in agitation. Judgement was to be bestowed. Gently, she caressed the three with her hooves and wings, touching each one with her horn. "You have done well, my subjects," she said, voice soft. "Few have gone up against so much and prospered so well."
"But, your majesty, we—"
"Shh," Emerald comforted, "you deserve rest. Three of our family have been taken from us; their memories will be shared and sung for three days, that they will not pass from the Hive in darkness." At her words, the multitude rang with cries of gratitude as well as the pain of loss. Mentally calling for calm, she continued when the hubbub had died down. "After that, we shall recruit more brothers and sisters." The mental chatter from the Hive grew louder again, almost overpoweringly so, at the news. The throne chamber rang with their chittering conversations. The queen smiled inwardly, and gave yet another silent command for peace. New changeling converts meant abundant food and new memories, as well as new siblings.
"We shall take them from the dogs," Emerald said, pausing a moment to revel in the wave of astonishment that swept through the Hive. "We shall take them from the pack which fawns at the hooves of the young dragon-prince, and we shall observe the youngling in secret. He is no fool, for all that his summers are so few. He knows what he has, as do our myriad enemies. If we cannot penetrate the dragon's hoard, we shall let others do it for us. And when we are ready, we will strike!" The queen struck her hoof on the solid stone floor, the impact reverberating throughout the hive. "We will strike, we will take what we desire, and we will master it!"
The answering stomps of ten thousand changelings reverberated through the Hive, buoying them and lifting their spirits. It was almost as good as love, though she knew it wouldn't last quite so long. Maybe it was time for her to visit the Birthing Chambers again; there were quite a few new subjects ready to share their love and in turn be made ready to share the bounties of the Hive. Her minions would need to be strong for their coming ordeals.


♠♣♥♦


Sharptooth moved the chair again, sighting along it to the door as he sought to place it for maximum effect. Once his errant, adopted offspring returned, he would be seated and ready to bestow justice. The back now faced directly away from the cave-dwelling's entrance. He snorted and shook his head. He twirled the chair around so the back was towards the fireplace, shivering as he looked out the window, and then changed his mind again. He placed it back where it had been in the beginning. Then he angled the chair just so to make the most of Chip's entrance. He was still tweaking the seat's location for the best impact when the door swung open. Sharptooth spun to see a bedraggled, exhausted colt dragging in two overfull saddlebags. For a brief moment, the two stood stock still as the chill air flowed in. Then, wordlessly, Chip dropped the bags and ran to embrace his father. Chip closed his eyes, squeezing them shut against the tears.
Sharptooth patted his son on the head with a forepaw, feeling awkward. He hadn't been aware it would be so bittersweet, being a parent. He stroked his son's mane and murmured comfortingly as the boy pressed himself against the older dragon. Sharptooth looked up, not breaking the embrace, as Hairpin eased herself tentatively in through the still-open door. Sharptooth motioned with his head up the stairs, to the pegasus' bedroom. She gave an indulgent smile, bending her head in genuflection to the elder clan head, and disappeared into her room.
Sharptooth turned his attention back to his son. You went to Stalliongrad without my permission? You are so very grounded, his head wanted to say. His heart had other ideas. "Are you alright, son?" There was a wordless sob, and Sharptooth felt the boy nodding. "Come on then, I think you should curl up in front of the fire. I'll get you a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it."
The dragon busied himself around the house, pulling out some extra cushions and a blanket for the boy, before bustling in the kitchen to make tea. As he prepared the ingredients, Sharptooth listened to the sound of armor falling to the floor followed by the muffled sounds of his son making himself comfortable. Smiling to himself and shaking his head, Sharptooth readied the tea and stepped back into the living room. "Of course you know, you're groun—" Sharptooth began, but then he stopped. As he neared the bundle of cushions and blankets near the fire, it came to no real surprise to hear snores coming from its general location.
A roughly pony-shaped lump was curled up on the cushion-pile, completely covered by a blanket, with only the very tip of Chip's muzzle poking out. He was fast asleep. Chuckling, Sharptooth settled into his chair. It creaked as the dragon leaned his bulk back. He slurped his tea thoughtfully; last time he'd tried to discipline the boy, it hadn't really been fair and hadn't really worked. It didn't look like he'd have much luck this time, either. Still, after whatever the lad had gotten up to, it seemed unlikely he'd be straying for a while. It was good, Sharptooth realized, to have his son home, and far more important than the tea-set or the state of the tea.


♠♣♥♦


Chip came suddenly awake in the semi-darkness, memory fuzzy as his brain slowly fired up. He ran through the past few days in his mind; there had been a train ride, though he was no longer on a train. There had been the long, tense carriage-ride from the remote hamlet of Gaskin Path, which had ended when they pulled into Tacksworn. He'd done his best to escort his friends home, passing on the lift up the mountain, to trudge the lonely stone staircase by himself. Then... he wasn't quite sure.
He yawned and tried to stretch, and found himself clutched tightly in the claws of Sharptooth. Memory returned; he was home, he had answers – of a sort – and he had put to rest the madness that had claimed his birth-parents, at least for now. He was, however, still concerned; the staff would be trouble, but it was hidden. It wouldn't stop the determined, so he'd have to think of somewhere to put it for good. Asking Ruff to keep it would almost certainly be trouble. Unless...
"That might work," Chip whispered to himself.
The snoring stopped, and one great eye opened. "Hmm, what's that? Oh, Chip, awake again?"
"Sorry, Dad, I was just... talking to myself. I didn't mean to wake you."
"Then you shouldn't have snuck down here to sleep like a little hatchling under my wings."
Chip opened his muzzle, then shut it again. "That never happened."
For an answer, Sharptooth curled up tighter.
"Should I be going to school today? What day is it?"
"No school today, but you're so very, very grounded. You went to Stalliongrad without my permission," the older dragon rumbled, his displeasure clear. "And it's worse than that."
"What?" Chip asked, perturbed. What could be worse than traipsing halfway across the country with a purloined carriage?
"You tried to pass through the Way. I told you, boy, it was not safe."
"I'm sorry," squeaked Chip. He rolled over, kicking his hooves about until he could look his father in the eye. "I didn't mean to, it just... happened. We were in the cave and there was this... crack. One second I was looking at it and the next, the mountain was falling down around us."
"I had thought my warning enough to keep you clear of it. The untempered schism of an unstable Way is not to be taken lightly, young dragon. The raw powers of chaos seep through into places such as that path, and they have their own ways of tugging at the mind and soul."
"I know, now. How did you... Were you spying on me?"
Sharptooth chuckled. "No, lad, no. You were trespassing on my domain. You must remember the sigil of the Diamond Expanse Clan carved into the rock floor of the cave?"
Chip nodded as he recalled it, and Sharptooth continued.
"I laid that grounding spell hundreds of years ago. When you crossed the threshold, I knew where you were. Had you not escaped, and had you not been sucked into the howling wastes between worlds, I would have rescued you. It would not have been pleasant, but I would have found you. I will always find you; you are a part of me. You will learn this, with time. It is how I know you were in Stalliongrad, though not what you did there. I trust you had good reason to travel to the ends of Equestria?" Sharptooth paused, one eyeridge raised quizzically.
"I... did. We all did. We had no choice."
Sharptooth was silent for a moment as he contemplated the meaning of these words. "It was to do with your parents?"
"Yes, sir, it was."

Haltingly, Chip began to tell Sharptooth of what had transpired between his group of friends over the last couple of weeks, and how come a brief trip East had turned into a trek from one end of the known world to the other. When Chip described the encounter with the green-blooded shapeshifters, the older dragon hissed in displeasure.
"They were changelings, Chip. Distasteful creatures that can assume – with practice – many other forms, including that of a dragon. It is more than a mere glamour spell, but not a true transformation. Such magic is for only gifted creatures such as you or I, or the pony and griffon sorcerors. For all Changeling Glamour is a shallow facsimile of true becoming, it is all the more insidious as it is as natural to them as breathing is for other insects and vermin."
"Where do they come from?" Chip asked. "What do they want?"
"They can be found in many remote locations – the Frozen North, the jungles of the Eastern Wilds, and they want what their queen wants. What she wants is love."
Chip righted himself and furrowed his brow. He stared at Sharptooth. "What's so bad about that?"
"One changeling is little more than a pest. He or she will assume the guise of a loved one, and steal a kiss or a hug. When they are determined, however, they are foul beasts. They will replace the original creature, assuming their lives, whilst the hapless prisoner becomes one of them, milked for the emotion that would be rightfully theirs until there is nothing left but an empty shell. When a whole swarm of changelings invades, they do not stoop to such trickery, they merely suck the life from all who stand in their way. Unstopped, they sweep over whole communities, draining the life from everything and everyone."
Chip shivered, cold despite the warmth from the dragon. "Y-you've dealt with them before?"
"I am an ambassador," said Sharptooth, slowly. He looked away, eyes fixed on the past. "I am an ambassador, but they cannot be reasoned with. It is the only time I have ever been close to regretting my actions."
"You didn't stop them from... eating everyone?" Chip asked, in a small voice.
"No, my boy, I did stop them. I burned them; I ravaged their hive and executed their queen. None escaped, whether it was by my claw, or starvation as the Hive withered without her."
Chip felt sick.
Sharptooth nodded wisely at his son's expression. "I am a dragon, my child, as are you, now. When the time comes, you will know what that means... and that time will come. There will be great rage, and within you will stir the spirit of our ancestors. Master it, or it will master you." Sharptooth stretched and uncoiled, rising from his warm, comfortable weyr.
"Did... did it master you, dad?" Chip asked, voice quiet.
Sharptooth looked down with a sombre expression, gaze far away. "No, it did not." Wordlessly, the dragon extricated himself from his bed, leaving the boy alone in the shallow depression.
The dragon stomped from the room, his tail flicking angrily. Chip winced as the door to the sleeping quarters slammed shut, the sound echoing through the otherwise-empty chamber.


♠♣♥♦


Chip avoided his father for most of the rest of the day, attempting to make good for his transgressions by doing odd jobs around the house, including seeing to a worn-out Hairpin.
He knocked gently on Hairpin's door and then opened it. He peeked around the corner, grinning hopefully. "Would you like some tea?" he asked, pointing a hoof to his haunches, where a tray was expertly balanced.
Hairpin was reclining on her bed with a towel around her head. Her feathers were well-preened and her coat, mane and tail shone. She'd spent half the day in the bathroom and was now surrounded by a large selection of brushes, combs and curlers. She was making the most of the large, low flat bed that Sharptooth had purchased for her. She looked up from a scroll, with a thin brush in her muzzle, and smiled. Placing the drawing implement into a small inkwell, Hairpin blew softly on the scroll and then rolled it up, before turning to Chip.
"Hello, Master. Did you have a nice day?"
"I... I came to bring you a bite to eat." Chip nodded towards his back, the tray was stuffed with several plates of food and a large cup of fruit juice.
"And also to escape your father, am I right?" She laughed as Chip blushed, tray halfway to the bedside table. "You may be one, but I know dragons better than you do. I also know fathers quite well, especially draconic ones. He worries about you, for all he sets you free to make your own decisions and your own mistakes."
"It's... not at all like... like..."
"Like your parents were?"
Chip shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. "No, yes, I mean... yes. They were... strongly about duty and honour, and behaving properly, and knowing the right things. But Sharptooth..."
Hairpin patted her bedding, and shuffled backwards. "Come, lie down for a while whilst I eat."
"But..."
"Too big to lie down? Too high and mighty a dragon lord to consort with slaves?"
"It's not that!" Chip protested, scowling.
"Good. Sit." Hairpin wriggled closer, draping a wing over Chip. Once the draconic colt was comfortable, she continued. "Dragons are territorial, masters of their domain. They will allow nothing truly threatening to their offspring to dwell within their demesnes. Sharptooth sees all of Equestria, or at least this part of it, as his own, so he lets you roam free. But he still worries."
"I don't want to disappoint him, Pin," Chip said, sighing.
Hairpin chuckled, nuzzling the pony-shaped dragon as he rested his head forlornly on her foreleg. "You want to know why he's so grouchy? It's because you didn't."

Hairpin jumped awake as the door to her room flew open and Sharptooth stormed in. She raised her head in surprise, the dragon hadn't even knocked. He looked flustered, and was doing a bad job of hiding it.
"Hairpin, have you seen Ch—" he began.
"Chip's here, Elder Sharptooth. He's sleeping. Shh!" Hairpin rebuked, her ears flicking back against her head. Hairpin carefully moved her wing to reveal more of the sleeping form underneath. "It seems he was more tired than he let on," Hairpin whispered, smiling fondly as the lump under her wing snored heartily.
Sharptooth cleared his throat, blushing. He backed up slightly, his bulk filling the doorway. "The boy has spent a long time being a dragon. Perhaps he is owed some time being a pony?"
Hairpin snapped her teeth angrily at the retreating Sharptooth. "Master Chip deserves some time being a child."
The green dragon raised one eye-ridge, visibly taken aback. Hairpin almost laughed at the creature's surprise, but kept a straight face.
"Fine, then," Sharptooth huffed, a puff of steam issuing from each nostril. "I shall leave him to your tender ministrations, my good mare. I am going to bed."
The pegasus winced as the door was slammed shut, but she smiled softly as she arranged a blanket over herself and the sleeping Chiphoof. "Don't worry, you big, silly lizard," Hairpin whispered, "your son is safe with me."


♠♣♥♦


Chip awoke slowly, enshrouded in feathers. The experience was rare enough that he was quite unsure of his surroundings for a good half minute. The enclosed space was warm and comforting, and he felt very safe and relaxed. It was a feeling he didn't want to let go of. "Mom?" he asked, as his mind cleared.
"No, Master Chiphoof, you are with your favourite pet, Hairpin Turn." The feminine voice rang with peals of silvery laughter.
Chip's eyes shot fully open. "I'm..." He glanced bleary-eyed around at his surroundings; bright sunlight filtered through well-preened feathers, lithe and shapely legs were curled protectively over his haunches, and there was a tail wrapped around his head for extra warmth.
"Hush, you were very tired. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Hairpin's tone was full of mirth, and the unapologetic pegasus nuzzled his haunches. "Everypony needs somewhere safe to sleep occasionally, even a big strong dragon-lord like you."
Chip was up in a flash, face burning with a blush which he was sure would melt the floor if he stood there long enough. "I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"Shh, I meant it. You were tired; I let you sleep. You should, however, ready yourself. Today is the first day of your return to school, and I would advise against being late."
"School?" replied Chip dumbly, before his brain caught up. "School! Oh horsefeathers!"

Chip scrambled out of the room, hooves skittering on the floor, as he hurried to ready himself for school. Hairpin's bright laughter followed him down the hallway. He brushed his mane, brushed his teeth, scooped together all the books he could find into his saddlebags and fled out through the front door with only one piece of draconic armor properly applied, the rest were scattered around the fireplace. It was only the several-thousand-foot drop which brought him up sharp. He panted heavily as he watched small stones kicked up by his passage disappear into the depths below. He groaned loudly. "Shards! No wings! And I'm grounded!" Chip glared angrily at the circular stairway leading down and around the mountain, and stomped a hoof.
"Just because you're grounded," a deep voice interjected, "doesn't mean you need to be late for school."
Chip turned to see Sharptooth towering over him. The young dragon's eyes lit up. "You mean it?"
"Only one way to find out, hmm?" Sharptooth pointed a claw at the momentous drop.
Chip blew his mane out of his eyes, twirled around in a circle, and then without a moment's hesitation, leaped straight over the edge. Sharptooth watched for a moment, eyes glittering with pride, then with a great swoop of wings, sped after the receding spot.


♠♣♥♦


Carmine flipped her wings against her body and then, with a forepaw, settled her satchel snug against her chest. School, the griffon huffed to herself, so lame. As she turned dejectedly to go into the wooden building, she studied the decor – anything to avoid actually stepping inside. It sported a fresh set of paint and there were a good few of Chip's diamond dogs seeing to the grounds, but nothing could hide that it was the same, stuffy place of torture, and likely always would be. She sighed, and prepared to go in. A sound stopped her. The sound was far away, and rather piercing. It had crept up on her ear sneakily, only making itself known once it had become too loud to ignore. It was a curious sound; long, drawn-out and somewhat melodic, though frightfully off-key. It sounded almost like words, Carmine realized, or rather one word. One long, joyfully exultant word—
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-HOOO!" Chip screamed, as he plummeted in free-fall towards the ground. Landing heavily and skidding to a halt in a cloud of dust, the obviously mad pony-shaped dragon was grinning like a maniac.
The unmistakable leathery sound of dragon wings, and the angular shadow of Sharptooth soaring overhead made Carmine squawk in surprise and instinctive fear, but as the dust settled, she fought to hide a grin. School may always be school, but Chip would always be Chip, and there was nopony else quite like him.
"Hey, dragon-boy. Daddy let you out to play?"
"He threatened to drop me off the cliff rather than take me to school, but I showed him!"
"You dived off the edge, didn't you?"
Chip just grinned. He opened his mouth to answer, when a shadow fell across the doorway.
"Hey, Buttbreath," Butch began, looming behind them.
"Hey, Butch," Chip gritted his teeth. "I thought we were past—"
"Can it," the diamond dog said. "Truce still holds. You did good. Not excellent, but good."
"He killed a dragon, Butch, and conquered a pack of diamond dogs into the bargain. Not bad, I'd say." Carmine clicked her beak in annoyance, flicking her tail.
"Yeah, yeah, we all know your boyfriend's a bigshot."
"I'm no—" Chip began, but huffed into silence when the griffon punched him in the side.
"He didn't conquer anything; he's only pack leader by default, and he hardly killed that dragon alone. He crashed into it."
"My fist's gonna crash into your face if you don't push off, mongrel," Carmine hissed.
"Oh yeah? I wanna see—"
"Butch," Chip said softly. "I'm sorry, okay? I think you were awesome that night, and you're right. I crashed into Swiftwing. I don't even want to be their Alpha! I'd give them away, but to who? I... don't want there to be any more fighting, not in Tacksworn, not over a mistake. I didn't do anything to deserve what I got. You did. You... lost a lot."
"And Chip lost everything, Butch. His parents, his home... they're gone, you butt-head," Carmine seethed. Chip winced at the words, flicking his tail in agitation.
Butch growled softly, but nodded. "Truce holds, chicken-boy," the troll said, then he stomped off.
Chip let out the breath he was holding, shaking his head.
"I think he's warming up to you," the griffon said.
"You mean it? What you said?"
"Yeah, that's his way—"
"No, I mean about..." Chip mutely pointed his hoof at Carmine before pointing back to his own body, grinning hopefully.
Carmine rolled her eyes and punched him again. "You're impossible."

The lesson was endless torture; it was a ceaseless cavalcade of mundanity, a non-stop parade of the blasé and pointless. At first it had made a wonderfully refreshing change, but that insanity had soon worn off. The teacher, and it was once again Miss Calligraphy Quill, was droning on and on about precipitation and cloud dynamics. Chip, for his part, was trying extremely hard to keep his eyes open and not fall asleep. The clock on the wall ticked so slowly, he swore it was running backwards. Just three more periods, he told himself, and I'm free!
He looked at the clock again, and once more became convinced that he was stuck in some sort of timeloop, that outside of the school ages had passed. Mountains had crumbled, the seas had dried up, the stars had fallen...
He was, in short, bored. He was bored, bored, bored, bored!
Beneath the table, behind their seats, Carmine's tail deftly twirled with his own. Fighting to prevent giggles, attempting to not create an almighty crashing clash of metal from the attached weaponry, the two youngsters did their best to distract each other from the monologue. Around them, life was normal. It was mundane, uninteresting, plodding and banal. Despite themselves, grinning to each other, they were glad of it.
Outside, the sky was grey and overcast, with a few flakes of snow drifting down. The wind whistled shrilly as it blew through town. The inside of the school's windows were icing up, even though the fireplace was roaring with warmth. Chip shivered despite himself, it was comfortable in the classroom – yawn-inducingly so – and even before he'd become a dragon, cold hadn't really bothered him, but the desert outside seemed all the bleaker for the encroachment of winter. This was his future, he realized, or at least his present. A comforting normality, built of friends found in the most unlikely of places, of a family to call his own that dampened but did not erase the pain of what he had lost, and a future open to interpretation.
Yes indeed, boredom was something he could deal with.
He looked at the clock.
Well, he could deal with it for another three periods, at least. The thought surfaced that this was going to be his fate for the foreseeable future. Slowly he sunk his muzzle into his hooves, headbutting the desk.


♠♣♥♦


Chip woke up slowly. He yawned and smacked his lips, stretching his eyes open until they stayed that way rather than tumbling closed again. Days had turned to weeks since he and his friends had returned from their trip. There had been school, there had been weekends. There had been training atop 'dragon-lesson mountain' and there had even been flying lessons, despite his being double-grounded. Butch had been a butt, the teachers had insisted on his learning things and the weather had progressively gotten even colder. Cold enough, he mused, that he didn't really feel like coming out from under his covers this morning. He'd hoped that sleeping in the ratty sofa which passed for his bed would mean Sharptooth would forget about him, but it hadn't really worked so far.
"Up and at 'em, I said," rumbled the green dragon, again.
"Awwww, Dad, I don't wanna! Lemme be I'm just gonna—" Chip yawned again "—stay here a bit longer an—"
Sharptooth chuckled to himself. "That's not going to work, my boy." The dragon dragged the covers off his son and held them just out of reach.
"Daaa-aaad! No fair! I'm a dragon now! Aren't we supposed to, like, sleep for a hundred years or something?" Chip tried to curl up into a small, warm ball. He contemplated digging under the seat-covers.
"Hmm? Oh, so you have been paying attention in class. Yes, Chip, we dragons do sleep for the occasional century, but there's more than a few indicators that such a wyrmsleep is approaching, and you exhibit none of them. On the contrary, you exhibit a good many signs of the condition known as 'dontwannagetup-itis'. It's rarely fatal, and the only cure is being turfed out of bed by your parents. Now hup, or I shall fetch a bucket of water."
Chip tensed, eyes wide. "You wouldn't!" he exclaimed, glaring up at his adopted father.
The grin on the dragon was wider than the muzzle holding it. "Try me."
Grumbling, Chip gave in and got up. Then he stretched and twisted his head to and fro until his neck joints popped. "What'm I getting up for anyhow? Isn't it the weekend?"
Sharptooth rolled his eyes. "I've been telling you for the last couple of weeks, my boy. It's the weather-caravan."
"And?"
"And we have plenty to prepare for; we have to stock up on supplies, grit the steps and prepare the bonfire for the show, along with laying out a decent spread for the neighbours."
"Bonfire? Spread? Show? What? I thought this was just, you know, weather?"
The dragon grinned. "Tacksworn doesn't see all that much action and excitement, Chip, so the arrival of the weather-caravan is something we like to make a little special. It's nothing too huge; fireworks, food, drink, music, and..."
"And?"
"What do all good storms have?"
"Thunder and lightning?" Chip hazarded a guess, spirits lifting.
"Thunder and lightning. Directed thunder and lightning, with a cloud-play by the Wonderbolt Reserves. And guess who has the best seat in the whole town?"


♠♣♥♦


The clouds rolled in slowly but steadily, the temperature dropping by the hour. Chip stood uncomfortably on top of the mountain-top, decked in full draconic regalia. He wouldn't have minded, but he'd spent all day preparing for the show.
The bonfire had a base that was made of smooth rocks which Sharptooth had enchanted to burn hot and clean. Piled atop them was a year's worth of burnable trash, broken household items and other flammable material. Chip and Sharptooth had spent the entire day dragging it all up from their home below and arranging it into a pile neat and regular enough to stay together until reduced to ash. The lighting of the bonfire had been a private ritual of sorts for the elder dragon; Chip gathered it was something from long ago, forgotten by the rest of Equestria. He wondered what it was.
The buffet table was packed with an eclectic selection of meat, fruits and vegetables, and rock-cakes. They were clearly labelled – idly, Chip wondered how many ponies or griffons had chipped a tooth or their beak in years past. He'd helped make them all, and was quite pleased that his contributions were generally good enough to not stand out from the rest.
With raucous cries and  loud bellowing neighs, their flighted and not-so-flighted neighbours started to arrive. The griffons circled before swooping in, but the pegasi just charged in directly. The younger, less self-controlled members of the Tacksworn Griffon Protectorate descended more or less directly on the buffet, but various clan-heads greeted Sharptooth properly. The pegasi were formal, as were the unicorn and earth ponies they'd brought with them.
The two huge dragons Arganthious and Fangaur, sent by Quetzalcoatl the Dragon Emperor, had already carved out weyrs for themselves in the surrounding mountains, and were sleeping the winter off. They'd eaten their fill before Chip's trip to Neighvada, had made their presence known, and had staked claim to the land surrounding Tacksworn, under the aegis of Sharptooth. Anything daring to bother them would be dealing with two very annoyed wyrms. The actual dragons in attendance were few; they huddled close to the fire, using the burning rocks to keep their hookahs alight. They spoke reverently to Chip and Sharptooth, and were friendly and open to the other guests that dared fraternize, but it was clear dragons weren't a common sight around town. They hadn't been, at least, until Chip had arrived. There was one group of youths who were more than happy to spend time with dragons, or at least with one dragon in particular.

"Hey, dweeb. Nice place you got here," called Carmine, tail lashing in the firelight, as she stepped around the flames.
Chip turned, grinning as he realized who it was, and bowed to her, waving to his friends. "Welcome to... uh, well, I call it 'dragon lesson mountain'. Dad kinda drags me up here to show me the ropes."
"Wanna show me around the place?"
"There's not much to show, it's kinda dark..."
"That's the point you dufus."
Beth clawed the ground in annoyance as Chip and Carmine sauntered off. "Oh, that's great, Car. Just ditch us, we don't mind," the griffon complained, flipping her wings angrily closed as Carmine smirked and gave a triumphant flick of her tail-tuft.
"Come on, bird-brain," Bella called, her horn glowing softly, "there's plenty more boys up here, and I know for a fact that a certain Diamond Dog came up with my herd."
"Thorn's up here?"
"Uh huh, and Beryl's helping cook more Rabbit Surprise, so he's all alone."
"Not for long!"
"That's the spirit!"

The night was clear on the plateau, the clouds swirling below like a boiling sea of vapour. The stars were bright and hard like diamonds. In front of them lay Tacksworn. Above Tacksworn was a carpet of thick, black clouds that rumbled and protested as they were shepherded into position by hundreds of pegasi and griffons. On the outskirts of the town was a massive roiling storm-wall, thousands of feet high, seeding snow over the desert. For now, it was being kept back from the town proper, swirling endlessly in a circuit and forming a natural amphitheatre for the show which was to be held within.
Through gaps in the clouds above Tacksworn, Chip could see myriad fires similar to their own, with townsfolk huddled around them. As he sat with Carmine, the pair leaning against each other, he could hear snatches of conversation and laughter that echoed and rebounded until it was little but a melodic and joyful melange of sound.
Once again, he marvelled at how the diamond dog tribe he had seemingly inherited had integrated with the peoples of Tacksworn. They'd moved in, founded businesses and generally been helpful and open in building and rebuilding. They still regarded him and his father as their superiors, but at the behest of the head of the Diamond Expanse clan had got on with their lives. Still, it unnerved him, as every now and again he would idly wish for some item or trinket whilst about town, only to have it turn up on his doorstep the following morning. He'd wanted to tell them to stop it, but Sharptooth had bid him hold his tongue – he was contractually their alpha, and being able to please their alpha was an important part of the day-to-day happiness for a good deal of the more feral diamond dog tribes.
To give them something to do, he'd requested them to help ready the town for the official transition from autumn to winter. They'd gone all out to please him, and by all accounts this year's celebration was shaping up to be the best ever. It wasn't until the storm-show began that Chip understood what all the fuss was about. With expertly shaped clouds being dragged around by small teams of pegasi, accentuated by fireworks as well as thunder and lightning, stories of old myths and legends were re-told in the dark skies about Tacksworn. Great shapes of dragons, griffons and ponies were formed and dashed against each other, flowing across the sky like water, as ancient battles played out. There was Discord, and there was the Sundering, the battle of the griffon clans... and then Chip realized he was watching the history of Tacksworn itself. His new father, depicted in brightly lit thunderheads, swirled effortlessly around a diamond dog, a pony and a griffon, until the four came together into a shapeless mass which was swiftly reformed into a replica of the town itself. Chip could hear the applause from below, and stomped his own hooves in appreciation.
He'd turned away at that point to refill his plate from the buffet table. A tug on his tail made him turn his head, muzzle full of quartz, to look up into the eyes of Sharptooth.
"You'll want to see this bit, my boy. I think you'll enjoy it, you and your little friend both."
"Whaffat?" Chip mumbled, swallowing a good deal of his mouthful of food whole. Wincing from cramp as it refused to go down, he beat himself in the chest with a hoof before trying to talk again. "What? Why's that?"
"Just look." Sharptooth's great blunt muzzle was almost unreadable. Chip furrowed his brow in confusion but turned as he was bid to watch the next part of the show. There were two massive shapes fighting, their forms little but masses of cloud, lit by lightning. Slowly, Chip realized they were dragons. Around them swirled an alicorn, shooting fireballs from his...
"That's... that's me!" Chip exclaimed, spitting out what had been a mouthful of gravel. Chip watched, spellbound, as the alicorn that he now recognized as himself with the helmet and wings he had worn, slammed into the two dragons in a final shower of thunder and burst of coloured lightning and fireworks. As the smoke cleared, the wall of storm clouds that had been kept at bay exploded over the town and obliterated the tableau, to thunderous applause.
"But... but... why?"
Sharptooth grinned. "They need new material, son, to keep the show interesting. That little display will be repeated all over Equestria, wherever this weather caravan goes."
"And nopony will have the slightest idea what it is, will they?"
"Probably not. They'll think it Celestia or Luna, most likely. After all, there are very few ponies with wings and a horn."
Chip sighed. "I miss my wings."
"So did I, whilst I was healing. Mayhaps you should design new ones? We can take a look in my library tomorrow. I have some books which you may find interesting. I do recall that your first pair of wings, whilst an unqualified success, did mainly lead you downwards. I think a proper pair of wings should take you up as well. And that requires a power source."
"I know, b-but I'm not a unicorn!"
"No, you're a dragon. A long time ago, a dear friend of mine worked on something truly amazing, centuries ahead of its time. Only now is it beginning to see application. You've probably not heard of him; his name was Bevelmeiter, and he made exactly what you're looking for."
Chip shared a glance with Carmine, whose eyes shone in the semi-darkness.
"No more falling with style, eh?" joked the griffon, neck-feathers ruffling up with surprise.
"Oh, no, miss Carmine. With Bevelmiter tubes, young Chip will be flying for real."

Chip stood on the edge of the plateau, looking down at the town of Tacksworn. Actual flight was being promised. He could hardly believe it, but then again his life was lots of things he wouldn't have believed, a year ago. Winter was here, but couldn't have felt better about it. Life was good, and this close to Hearth's Warming, he was glad.
Maybe everything really would turn out for the best, Chip reasoned. Maybe he could relax, enjoy things, and begin to hope that whatever passed for normal would come his way.

Yup, everything was going to be perfect.


♠♣♥♦