Finding Your Place

by Jake The Army Guy

An Old Habit

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Professor Fidelis Igneous, or "Fido" to his students and close friends, walked with a jaunty step towards the building, a humble smile on his face. His fine Neightallion shoes, which matched perfectly with his brown tweed suit, clicked against the cobblestone path, punctuated every other step by the sharp tap of his walking stick. His keen canine senses drank in the signs of summer: the scent of freshly cut grass, the sound of birds chirping as they fluttered about the trees, the warmth of the morning sun on his fur. Off to the right, he could see the topmost floors of Princess Luna’s School of Health and Healing. The navy blue buildings stood in stark contrast to the muted brown structures of Celestia’s estate.

He nodded in greeting to several students that passed him, smiling only slightly to avoid revealing his sharp teeth. Having spent most of his adult life in Equestria, he was fully aware of the effect his canine maw had on ponies. Oh, it was nothing personal, he knew—merely a factor of evolutionary leftovers: a predator showing teeth to a prey animal. The reputation Diamond Dogs held amongst ponykind certainly didn’t help that.

Still, he didn’t let it bother him. He maintained his smile, looking around the courtyard. There weren’t too many creatures about, as it was a scholastic holiday, but there were ponies, griffons, mules, and even a few camels walking about, no doubt engaging in serious study. After all, as he often impressed upon his own students, fierce studiousness and dedication to bettering oneself were the keys to a pro—

Keys.

Keys.

“Oh, ruddy hell...”

He reached down to pat his trousers, hoping that some kind of wormhole would open and deposit them in his pocket, but the laws of physics stood firm. In his mind, he could see the offending keyring on his nightstand, mocking him with its not-in-his-pocketness. A very loud, very canine snarl left his throat, turning into an embarrassed sputter as his eyes darted around. Thankfully, no one was near enough to hear his little instinctual outburst. Sighing, he marched forward once more, cursing himself silently.

The wide double glass doors closed behind him as he stepped into Clover Hall, home to the more advanced magical studies, and his own classroom. A griffon sat behind the welcome desk, beak-deep in a textbook, but he looked up upon hearing the Professor’s steps. The muscular bird smiled widely. “Guten tag, herr Professor!”

“A fine day to you as well, Gunter. I’m surprised to see you pulling a shift today.” He looked around the empty hall. “Actually, I'm surprised to see you pulling desk duty at all. I would think it to be beneath your station.”

The griffon chuckled, his feathers rustling as he leaned back in his seat. “Professor, while I am here, I am just another member to the student body. My dukedom is not common knowledge, and I prefer to keep it that way. Of course, you are here. A teachers work is never done, ja?’

Igneous sighed. “Yes, yes. Papers to grade, lessons to plan and all that. Say, um, Gunter...” He leaned on the table, doing his best to act nonchalant, “A lot of professors are working this weekend, yes?”

“Yes, there are many in the building.”

“Good, good. I say, would, um, Professor Sparkle be in, by any chance?” He grinned widely.

Gunter eyed him curiously for a moment before a smile slowly spread across his beak. “Forgot them again, Herr Fido?”

“Oi! Stop that, I’ll have none of that from you.” He waggled his finger in the griffon’s face, but the move was offset by his sheepish grin.

“I kid, I kid, Professor,” he said, claws held before him. “Do not worry. Fraulein Sparkle was here when I came on shift.”

Igneous’ ear flicked. “Oh? And when was that?”

“Hmm, it would have been about five this morning. I remember because Evening Star tried to make... me... um, is everything okay, Professor?”

Igneous’ eyes were wandering underneath his creased brow. The sharp rap of a talon on the desk snapped him back to reality. “Hm? Oh, um, nothing. Never you mind, Gunter. Have a fine day.” With that, he left the slightly off-put griffon to return to his book.

Igneous strolled down the hallway a bit quicker than before. In the three weeks they had shared a classroom, Professor Sparkle had been kind, but... distant, for lack of a better word. She always seemed distracted, and if she wasn't actively teaching or grading papers, she had a parchment floating before her or was clacking away in her custom computer. Anytime he would ask about it, she would merely smile and say it was a "personal project."

It worried the Diamond Dog a bit. He'd never met her before she came to the school, but he'd read her book, The Friendship Reports. She sounded like a much more outgoing mare than he had seen so far. Plus, the Dean had mentioned to him the professor’s tendency to... obsess. Reaching the door to their classroom, he flicked his ears, dismissing the worry. It wasn't as if she was burning the classroom down.

Sure enough, when Igneous reached the door to the classroom, he found it unlocked. The class was just as he remembered it from Friday afternoon. The chalkboard was divided in half, his brusque chalk work on the bottom, Professor Sparkle’s flowery script on top. The lecture counter before it was neatly—and, if he was being honest, a bit too methodically—divided between the two professors, and of course, Professor Sparkle’s ever-present shadow, standing sentinel several meters between the counter and the door to their shared office.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Cake.” He offered a cheerful smile and a small salute with his walking stick. Beef said nothing, staring straight ahead. Fido continued to stroll across the floor, crossing the distance between them while removing his jacket. “You and Professor Sparkle got an early start, eh?”

When he still didn’t get a reply, Fido turned to fully face the stalwart guard. He stood still like a statue, eyes still save for the occasional drooping blink. Fido approached him slowly. Though Beef was a large stallion, Fido still had to lean down to be on eye level. He waved one furry paw in front of the guard's face. “Um, Lieutenant, is everything alright?”

A trick of the light caught his eye. Squinting, he noticed a faint sparkle covering Beef’s eyes. Every five seconds or so, his eyelids would mechanically lower and raise. He leaned in even closer, to the point where he could smell the guard’s aftershave. “Lieutenant?”

“Zzzzzzzzz...”

Fido jerked back upright. Clearing his throat, he moved back towards the office, pointedly not looking back at the dozing unicorn. “I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or terrified.”

As he approached the wooden door, he could hear frantic scratching, as well as the hurried tapping of hooves across the hardwood floor beyond. He tried the knob; when it didn’t budge, he gently rapped on the door.

“Go away, I’m busy.”

“Professor Sparkle, it’s me. Could you please open the door? I seem to have forgotten my—” The door flung open in a lavender blur “—keys.”

Professor Sparkle stood before him, her usually-tidy mane a bit unkempt and her smile just a bit too wide for his tastes. “Oh, Professor Igneous! I’m so glad you finally came! I have so much to show you.”

"Yes, well I—" He yelped as she dragged him into the office, shutting the door behind him. The office was a fair size, roomy even with two full-time professors sharing the space. Two desks made of polished oak faced each other, one drowning in paper, and the other neatly kept and tidy, with a state of the art gem-powered computer taking up a good portion of it. A large window on the far wall opened into the courtyard, allowing warm sunlight to brighten the room. Shelves filled with magic tomes and research papers lined the walls behind each desk, along with a pair of large filing cabinets.

As Igneous regained his footing, Professor Sparkle was already back at the far corner of the office, furiously scribbling equations on a blackboard she had set up. A cloud of quills and parchment levitated around her, giving off a near-deafening wall of scritching. “I’m glad you’re finally here,” she repeated. “Now, where was I?”

Igneous looked around the room in muted worry. Bits of paper covered with hastily scribbled equations were pinned to the wall on her side of the office. He brought one close to his face. He recognized the spellwork—a variation of the Aero Glide principle of thaumatic conductivity—but it was heavily modified. "Yes, well, as I said I, uh..." He glanced over at the window ledge, noting the neatly folded pile of bed sheets and pillow, "I forgot my keys at home. Professor, um, pardon me if I overstep my bounds here, but... did you go home at all this weekend?”

Twilight peeked from behind the blackboard to smile smugly at him. “Now, I know where you’re going, and you can relax. I’ve gotten 4.2 hours of sleep every night, which is the exact amount that I need to not sacrifice mental acuity and not risk any adverse health effects.”

"Okay, but still—"

"And," she said, levitating a bowl of a bland-smelling gruel over to him, "I've been eating a bowl of this three times a day. It's a special mix of proteins, lipids, vitamins, and complex carbohydrates designed to deliver the needed calories per day necessary to maintain optimum efficiency." As she spoke, she continued to scribe on the board, the cloud of quills also recording.

Hesitantly, Igneous dipped a single finger into the bowl. The mushy paste was lukewarm, and had the consistency of wet newspaper. He hesitantly brought his claw to his tongue, and immediately frowned and spat. "Oh, by the gods!"

She leaned over to glance at him from behind the black board. "No one ever said science was tasty, Professor."

“That’s all well and good, Profe—” he dodged to the side as she dashed past him to bury her nose in an open book on her desk— “Professor, but it doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t left this room in three days.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course I have.”

Igneous let out a sigh of relief.

“I used the faculty shower last night.”

Igneous took another slow scan of the room, the crumples of paper by the wastebasket, the Apparent nonsense scribbled on the walls. He turned back to see her nose-deep in the book. “Look, Professor Sparkle, I—”

“But! It was all worth it! I think I’ve finally figured it out!” She raced back to the board, the floating quill scribbling furiously onto a piece of paper. “I really should be thanking you, Professor. It was your runic sleeve that tipped me off.”

He idly reached down to rub the gauntlet on his arm. “Oh?”

“Yes! For weeks I’ve been trying to figure out how to generate a sufficient field of mainstate thaumatic energy without having it overflow into a resonance cascade, and then it hit me!”

He blinked. “Um, what hi—”

“Gemstones! If we enchant a stone—I'm thinking quartz, as it has the lowest resistance potential—to act not just as a medium, but as a capacitor, then the mana compression field should be able to maintain the spell!" With a wide, slightly too wide grin, she floated a parchment up to his face.

Igneous’ eyes darted between her wide smile and the parchment. “Look, Professor, I—”

“Please?”

He sighed. “Very well. Let’s have a look.” He grasped the paper out of the air and reached into his vest pocket. He produced a small pair of glasses, placed them on his muzzle, and began to read. Almost instantly, he raised an eyebrow. “Is this a joke?”

"Professor!"

"Alright, alright!" He cleared his throat and took another look at the parchment. His eyes darted furiously back and forth, calculations flying in his mind. "Well, the lattice is sound, and the spell crafting is... hm, actually rather brilliant." He chuckled at her light blush. "But the numbers..."

"I know, but that's where the gemstone comes into play. Like I said, we can—"

"Professor." He raised a claw to silence her, then lowered the parchment and gazed at her with heavy eyes. "You would need several hundred pounds of the highest quality gemstones, military grade even, just to kick start the spell!" He cast another glance at the paper. "Furthermore, if I'm reading this right, you would need exponentially more and more every year to maintain it. I'm sorry, but... it's just not feasible."

The office went dead silent. The army of quills swirling around the room all abruptly ceased scribbling and fell to the ground. Igneous could almost see the vigor and enthusiasm in her eyes die as her tail drooped behind her and her ears fell flat against her head. For a moment, his mind raced with how he should react if she burst into tears.

Then, slowly, the look melted from her face. She took a deep, laborious breath, letting it out with practiced ease. When her eyes opened back up, the heartbreak was gone, replaced with a resolute grin. "Okay, then. Thank you for your input, Professor. Now, back to the drawing board."

He sighed, and tucked his glasses back in his vest pocket. "Profe—"

"No, no, it's fine!" She marched back across the room to the blackboard and began erasing the numbers. "I mean, it's not like I wasted three whole weeks on a wild goose chase." Her toothy grin and somber eyes did not match.

"I really think you should just relax."

She gave him a strained smile. Looking straight ahead, she marched back to the computer and started clacking away on the keyboard. "I'm just fine! Just have to start from scratch while he’s out there struggling to get by."

"Right, that's it."

Twilight was about to ask what he meant when the screen in front of her suddenly went blank. She glared up at him as he retracted his paw, but he was already walking back across the room. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"Nipping the problem in the bud before it goes any further." He began folding up the whiteboard. "I should have seen the signs earlier, but now that I have, I must act."

She marched over to him. "Professor, what are yo—"

He leaned down to her eye level. "You, Professor, need a break." He grinned, then turned to open the window. A warm breeze flowed through the office, washing away the stench of the gruel.

She stomped a hoof. "Now, see here, Professor! I am more than ca—"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off as Igneous gently wrapped a paw around her muzzle, clamping it shut. She glared at him, but his soft eyes, floating in concern, gave her pause.

"Professor, please." His tone was soothing, easy. "I've been teaching for a long time now. I know the early signs of teacher burnout. You may think you can keep this up, but trust me, it will get the better of you eventually." He released his hold on her, slowly standing back up. "Now, I'm sure whatever you're working on is very important, but it can wait a few hours. I know a lovely little bistro just off campus with a fantastic view of Canterlot Central Park. Please, come with me, get some air and some decent food in your belly, then come back and hit this with fresh eyes, eh?"

She eyes him for a few moments. Then, like before, she took a deep breath, and have him a wry grin. "Okay, you're right. Just... don't ever do that again," she said, gesturing to his paws.

He smiled and wiggled his fingers. "Oh, don't worry, I know plenty of other ways to use these."

She blinked.

He blinked.

She blinked.

"Oh, dear." He cleared his throat. "Um... would it help if I said that didn't sound quite so perverted in my head?"

"Not really, no."

They both blinked at each other.

"Right, then, anyway, grab your coat, shut off the lights, lock the door... I'll be outside weeping." He walked stiffly to the door, doing his best to ignore her muffled chortles.

Twenty minutes later, the two professors were just leaving the campus grounds, Twilight having decided to leave the napping Lieutenant Cake behind. Fido had always been amazed at the jarring shift from droll utilitarianism to gaudy opulence once outside the gate. Buildings made of the finest imported materials and designed by the most overpaid architects lined well-paved roads that bustled with activity.

The two walked along the sidewalk in companionable silence, the rhythmic rap of Fido's cane the only sound they made, just audible above the din of city life. Twilight glanced over at the cane. "That's a very nice walking stick,” she said.

"Oh, thank you, Professor!” He held it up for her to examine. The wooden cane was a rich ebony, just a hair shorter than her, and tipped with a vibrant pearl cap at the bottom. The morning sun glinted off the polished silver grip, intricate tribal-looking inscriptions carved all over. “It was a gift from my father upon completing my doctorate."

"Twilight," she said with a smile.

"Hmm?"

She giggled. "We've been working together for a few weeks now. We're friends: you can call me Twilight.”

"Oh. Well, in that case, I suppose you may call me Fido." He raised a paw as she opened her mouth. "It's quite alright. As you said, we’re friends now. Now then, this," he raised the cane to his face, "is not a walking stick. It's actually a ceremonial piece. It's called a hrunting."

"A what?"

"A hrunting. A fascinating piece of Dog culture. Elders would walk with these so that their knuckles didn't drag across the ground. Sort of a way of advertising one's station."

"Oh? And what station are you advertising?"

He flashed her a cocksure grin as they neared the corner of a building to their right. "That I'm a nearly tenured professor at one of the most adva—"

A frumpy mare barreled out from behind the corner. Fido nimbly dodged to the side, but the mare, having made no effort to avoid him, ran blindly into his waist, sending them both reeling back. He quickly regained his footing and reached over to help her. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Madame. Are you alri—"

The mare recoiled from his touch and glared at him in open contempt. "Watch where you're going, you... you—" She huffed and walked away, nose haughtily thrust high. Right before she left earshot she muttered under her breath, "Filthy troll."

Twilight's tail froze behind her. She made to follow when Fido's cane stopped her. "Let her go, Twilight. She's not worth it."

"But, she called you a... a..."

"Troll? Heh, my dear, I've lived in Canterlot for many years now. I've heard worse." He gestured in front of them, and they continued walking.

"Really? Here in Canterlot?"

He shrugged. "Nothing prevalent, mind you. Merely a vocal minority that still views my kind as uncouth bandits. Not that the proclivities of some of my species in the fringe country helps the matter at all."

"Yes. I have to admit, before I met you my only experience with Diamond Dogs was... not pleasant."

"Oh?"

She nodded grimly. "One of my friends was briefly kidnapped by a small pack of Dog slavers."

Fido jerked to a halt. "My gods! W—How did she escape?"

"She whined at them."

He blinked hard. "You're pulling my leash."

She giggled at the incredulous face he made. “Nope.”

 "How does that work?!"

"Well, I explained to her that her show of such a strong personality triggered an instinctual submissive response, while her voice reached a high enough pitch to cause pain. She insists that she was, 'simply that fabulous’."

They shared a laugh as they continued down the road. Eventually, they came to an imposing wall of trees marking the bounds of Central Park. Much like park in Manehatten bearing a similar name, Canterlot’s version of the urban park was a massive affair: dozens of acres of land in the heart of the city covered in lush grass, sports fields, and jogging paths. They could see ponies spread all over the massive park, engaging in sports, or just enjoying the warm summer day. On the corner before them stood a quaint restaurant, and the two made their way to the patio.

Fido ushered Twilight across the patio, guiding her to a wrought-iron table far enough away to offer some privacy while still having a view of the park. He darted in front of her, grabbing one of the large cushions stacked neatly in the corner, and swapped it with one of the chairs. He gave an exaggerated bow, eliciting a giggle from Twilight as she eased down. As soon as he reached his chair, a thin, mustachioed waiter had appeared at her side. Orders were taken, a chopped salad for her and grilled chicken breast for him, and the waiter dashed off, leaving glasses of water for both of them.

Fido took a moment, as he always did, to simply enjoy the serenity of the scents and sounds that wafted over from the park, and he noted with a slight grin that Twilight was doing the same. The spring blooms had left dazzling flowers and broad emerald leaves as far as the eye could see, painstakingly arranged by the city to create a picturesque view. She smiled, and Fido couldn’t help but feel just a bit of warmth spread across his muzzle; for a pony, Professor Sparkle had a smile brighter than the purest of gems. When she wasn’t in the grip of mania, of course.

"Wow, this really is beautiful." Twilight scanned the park. "It's funny, I was raised in Canterlot, but I never really paid this much attention to it."

Fido gave a small nod. "Say what you will about the overly-opulent architecture, Canterlot certainly knows how to please the senses. I sometimes forget how stark the difference between here and home, as long as I've been here."

 "How long have you lived in Equestria?"

"Oh, most of my adult life. Spent the better part of a decade at Her Majesty's school."

"Wow." She grinned sheepishly. "I just realized that I don't really know that much about you."

"Not much to tell, really. I was born in Canidea. Like most pups of semi-affluent packs, I was sent to Trottingham to study. Earned my first doctorate in Thaumatic Geology, then came here to finish my PhD."

Twilight nodded, taking a sip from her water. "You keep mentioning your 'pack.' Is that anything like the old pony herds?"

Fido rubbed his paw along his chin. "Hmm. Uh, somewhat, though there are key differences. Whereas the equine herd is a small family unit, matriarchal in nature, with several mares to every stallion, a pack can consist of anywhere from dozens to hundreds of dogs, all led by a singular male Alpha."

"Wow, one dog controlling hundreds? That sounds... hectic."

"Well, don't think of it as a family, more like... a commune." He leaned back in his chair. As he spoke, he gesticulated wildly, as if speaking to an entire classroom. "Each family is largely autonomous, and can be spread to the four winds, but they each pool resources in times of need, help the others when called to do so. However, all matters of importance to the whole fall under the Alpha, as well as all marriages and breeding."

Twilight choked on a few drops of water. "Um, did you say breeding?"

Fido nodded. "That's another large difference. Now, as I understand it, the concept of the 'herd' came about as a result of a severe gender disparity, yes?"

"Mh-hmm. Pony genetics has always favored mares to stallions, but in ancient times, the ratio was around seven-to-one."

"Yes,” he said with a nod, “sort of a way to 'spread the genetic wealth,' as it were. Well, the pack is the opposite. It's more about breeding rights and population control. The average litter is anywhere from five to seven pups, and with us living as long as we do, you can see how measures would need to be in place."

Twilight nodded. “Okay, but this Alpha, he doesn’t have that much sway over you, does he?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. If I understand correctly, the herd isn't something practiced anymore?"

"Well, the gender disparity leveled off several generations ago, so it's not exactly common anymore, though both more rural and upper-class areas still practice them."

"Ah, the rustic clinging to their traditions, and the elite clinging to their bloodlines." They shared a laugh. "Well, the pack still figures greatly in Dog society. My Alpha, if he could demonstrate how it would benefit the pack, could make me return home, or do anything, really."

Twilight gasped quietly. "Really? He could do that?"

"He never would, though. My Alpha is a wise old Dog, never meddled in our affairs. But, should I ever wish to marry, then it's 'game on,' as I have heard students say. I would have to prove why my mate would be a good addition to the pack."

"Is that really so hard?"

"Sometimes. I have a second cousin who worked for several years to convince him to allow her husband entry. On the opposite side of that, my mother is a Wolven. She stands almost twice as high as my father, and considerably more solid, and her pack owns a substantial amount of farmland. She was all but welcomed with open arms!"

Twilight giggled over her water. "So, what about you?"

He shrugged. "Me? Oh, there'll be plenty of time for all that later, at least until I've gotten tenure. After all, I'm still young, for a Dog. But, I have thought about it, of course. Settling down, finding a nice bitch." A barely suppressed snerk came from across him, and he turned to see Twilight red-faced, trying desperately not to laugh. "Um, have I said something?"

"I—snkt—I think we just crashed head first into the culture barrier."

The two looked at each other. The instant Fido's eyes widened, Twilight lost her composure and descended into a fit of giggles, soon joined by his barking laughter.

As they laughed, the waiter returned, placing a delectable looking salad before Twilight. The instant the scent of the fresh produce hit her, her stomach let out a disgustingly loud groan. She shot Fido a sheepish grin. "Heh, sorry. I guess I'm hungrier than I thought."

"Well, it's not exactly mushed-up newspaper, but it does look tasty."

Twilight smiled, but her ears boxed down against her head. "Profess—Fido, I really need to thank you. I haven't... well, I haven't freaked out like that in a long time. I thought I was past that kind of thing."

"We are naught but slaves to our nature, Twilight." He delicately cut into the chicken breast. "Though I may be able to be of more help if you told me what exactly you're working on."

"It's a spell to help my brother," she said as she tucked into her salad.

Fido coughed, swallowing a bite. "I'm almost afraid to ask what the Prince Consort could possibly need with a spell outputting more power than the Hoofer Dam!"

"No, it's for my little brother, Spike."

"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you had another sibling. What is he, unicorn, pegasi?" He took a drink of water.

"He's a dragon."

Years of etiquette training was all that prevented an epic spit take. As it was, Fido merely froze mid-sip, his eyes comically wide. "Well... that would explain the power needs. I've only heard rumors, mind you, but draconic resistance to unicorn magic is legendary." His eyes narrowed as he lifted his fork to his mouth. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"

He listened intently as she laid out her plan, chewing thoughtfully, offering the occasional "hmm." When she had finished, he sighed. "That's certainly very... ambitious, Twilight. I also assume that you intend this to be permanent, yes?"

"Yes. Well... maybe. I hope." She sighed, resting her head on her hooves above her now empty plate. "I'm sure later on down the line, the princesses will be able to think of something more practical, but for now, this is my idea."

"I see. Twilight, I hate to be the wet blanket, but you may have to accept that... it may not be possible."

She shook her head firmly. "No. I won't accept that. The answer it out there, somewhere. I just have to find it. I'm prepared to dedicate however long it takes. Even if I have to devote my whole life to it."

Fido set down his fork, dabbing his muzzle with a napkin before setting it on his empty plate. "Twilight, you're a professor now. You have responsibilities. You can't just—"

"Then I'll quit."

"I'm sorry?"

She looked at him with hard eyes. "I'll quit my job if I have to. Princess Celestia would understand. She'd support me."

"Would she?" He leaned across the table a bit, his yellow eyes boring into her. "Would she support you throwing away the summation of your entire life's work?"

"Then I'll make this my life's work."

He sighed. "Twilight, I—"

"I have to!"

Fido yelped, his ears falling flat on his head. Her shout was still echoing when she looked back at him.  

"I'm sorry, I..." She sighed. "Do you have any little siblings?"

He nodded. "Four."

"And are any of them going to outlive you by thousands of years?"

"Obviously not."

"Heh, right." She fidgeted in her chair for a moment, her eyes roaming the scenic hill before them. "I've been taking care of him for so long. Taught him to read and write, helped him through his first crush, held him when he had nightmares. All those times I was there for him, he knew he could count on me.

"More than that, I owe him... well, I owe him my life. He saved me from myself so many times. He likes to act so mature, but I know that beneath the snark, he's still... still a child."

"Hmm." He nodded thoughtfully, resting his head on his folded hands. "Obviously I've never met the lad, but perhaps you're underestimating him a bit? He sounds like he has a firm footing."

"For now, yes. He's adjusting, but what about later? What happens in a thousand years when he can't even fit in the city limits of his hometown? When he's so big no one can see past the scales and they only see a monster?"

"You don't know that will happen, Twilight. Ponies are a skittish lot, yes, but you have good hearts. I think ponies would give him a fair shake."

Her eyes narrowed. "Like they give you?"

The fur on the back of his neck bristled. "That's different."

"How? They look at you and only see a troll, yes?" The instant the words left her mouth, she winced and rocked forward ever so slightly, as if she was trying to recapture the words. "Oh, professor, I'm sorry, I—"

He waved his paw with a quiet breath. "It’s alright. As I said, I’ve grown a thick hide about it over the years, but I would think you of all creatures would have faith in the equine heart. Do you really think the ponies who have known him for years would turn on him over the course of a generation?”

"I can't take that chance. I can't..." She took a deep gulp of air. "I can't go to my grave without knowing he's taken care of. When I die, he'll still have thousands of years. I have to set him up right. I know he's strong, but... some ponies can only take so much before they break."

Fido sighed, scooting his chair away from the table and leaning back. "Tell me, Professor, what do you know of Diamond Dog magic?"

Twilight blinked at the seeming non sequitur. "Well, I know it's inherently passive except for a few rare cases, gem based—"

"No, no," he said, interrupting her with a raised finger, "not gem based. Stone based." He chuckled at the blank stare she gave him. "You know what I love the most about thaumatic studies? It is at once scientific and artistic. It's measurable, quantifiable, yet at the same time, there a poetic nature of it not find in other disciplines."

Twilight nodded, but still quirked an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

He smiled, pulling off his glasses and placing them in his jacket pocket. "Every creature has their place in the realm. Unicorns," he gestured to her, "are of the mind. Dragons, the heart."

Fido stood, slowly walking around the table to stand behind Twilight, who turned to follow him. "Pegasi and griffons are of the sky, earth ponies as well as dozens of others are of the earth." He stopped several meters from her and stood in a wide stance, bringing his fist up to his face. "But the dog..."

Twilight's eyes went wide as a dull orange glow surrounded his fist, his face twisted in concentration. An almost imperceptible tremor built up beneath them, and she gasped as a corresponding glow appears directly beneath him. A low growl of effort in his throat, he raised his glowing fist.

"... the dog is of the rock!"

He drove his fist into the ground... literally into the ground. The instant his hand made contact, the ground seems to lose all solidity, his fist passing through like water. He twisted his arm around as if looking for something, then smiled as he apparently found it. "The very foundation of the planet!" He yanked up, and Twilight jumped back with a loud yelp; his fist pulled up a spire of whitish stone about her height. He stood back, panting lightly, a proud smile on his face.

"Wha... how?" A beam of purple light shot from her horn, scanning the stone up and down. "That's... that's solid granite! That has to be from nearly two kilometers down!"

"Two point five, to be precise," he said, still grinning.

"You mean you summoned bedrock from over a mile underground?!"

He nodded. "The Diamond Dog mages of old were called 'Stonetalkers.' It was believed that they could commune with the spirits of the bedrock, ask for aid in times of need.

"This is a marker. In ancient times, they were used to mark territory when the nomadic packs would move to follow prey herds." As he spoke, his finger waved back and forth in a flurry, all the while glowing that same orange hue. "Messages would be left for others to see, a way to guide stragglers."

With a smile, he stepped away, motioning for Twilight to come closer. She did, looking at the area on the marker he indicated, and couldn't suppress a giggle: carved in the rock, written in perfect cursive, were the words Hullo, Twilight.

"Professor, this... this is incredible! I had no idea Diamond Dog magic was this powerful."

"Oh, it's not about power. Remember, it's passive magic. It's all about skill, finesse." He once more reached a glowing paw for the stone spire and grasped the topmost portion. The stone melted into his hand; the large chunk of rock looked like gelatin in his paw, quivering and twitching. His other hand came up and began to whittle away at it, tiny flecks of rock spilling off his paw, turning solid once more the instant it left. "It's one of the first lessons one learns when studying canine thaumatology."

Twilight stepped closer, intently staring at the new magic happening in his hand. "And that is?"

After a few more swipes, Fido smiled and knelt down to her. "That with the proper application of magic..." Twilight gasped at what was in his paw: a small, near-perfect replica of her cutie mark, complete with outer stars. "... even the firmest of rock is malleable."

While Twilight studied the carved stone, Fido turned and placed a paw on the pillar. Another dull flash of orange, and he gently pressed down, forcing the rock back down into the ground. A quiet pop, and the ground was like new, only a little bit of upturned dirt mixed in the the grass. Nodding to himself, he turned back to Twilight. To his surprise, she was not smiling, but instead was staring at him with a look on her face he could not place. “Twilight? Is everyth—”

“What did you just say?”

“Heh, I didn’t think I would have to spell it out for you of all creatures.” He knelt down to her once more, placing a paw on her shoulder. “Be his friend! Spend time with him and I assure you—”

“No, no, what did you actually say?”

He arched his eyebrow. “Um... with the proper application of magic, even the firmest... of rock...” Her eyes were no longer locked on his. Instead, they were darting back and forth beneath a crinkled brow, her jaw hanging open. “Twilight?”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “Magic... magic, wait if... if I readjust... no, no, it coul—wait, no, yes! If the ionization rate is constant, then the lattice should—would be able...” Her face lit up like she caught on fire, and Fido could have swore he saw a flicker of light in her eyes. “Professor, you’re a genius!” She lunged forward and grabbed him in a hug so tight he had to gasp.

Affection like this wasn’t something he had much experience with. At a loss for anything else, he gave a few hesitant pats to her back. “Uh, eh-heh, n-not that I’m disputing that fact,” he gingerly eased out of her iron grip, “but what exactly did I do?”

She didn’t fight his efforts to release himself. She was already zoned back out, and Fido could practically see the calculations flying in her head. “All I have to do is reconfigure the mana stream to allow for the constant flow from it to him, but I’ll still need a harness of some kind.” Finally, she looked back to him, her eyes wider than he would have thought possible. “I’ll need your help with that part!”

“Um, what part of what?”

“I’ll explain later, I have to go to the princess, okay, thanks for lunch, I’ll get with you later when I need you, bye!” In a flash of lavender, she was gone.

Fido blinked hard, staring at the now empty space before him. After several moments, he stood and made his way back to his chair, a smile on his muzzle. “Heh... what an odd pony.”

"Pull!"

An apple flew over the warm pavement of the old drill pad, propelled by a bluish haze. Squinting hard, Spike tracked the airborne fruit with his hand, while at the same time thinking back to the first time the Cakes came home with the twins. A flick of his finger sent a single bolt of electricity shooting from his arcing claw, and the apple exploded in a cloud of fine mush.

The sun was just beginning its trek west as the trio sat in the open space. Spike was curled up on his belly, legs tucked underneath him, enjoying the warmth the concrete had saved up during the course of the day. He was more than a little beat after a day full of exercising, a bit more help to Moondancer's construction, and flying laps around Canterlot with "Auntie Luna." When she had first returned to Equestria, Spike had initially resisted calling her that, but when a physical representation of a living goddess begs and makes puppy-dog eyes, even the coldest of hearts tend to melt.

Now, the trio sat on the drill pad that served as Spike’s temporary bedroom. They were surrounded on all sides by the dilapidated barracks, and one pile of rubble that had been a dilapidated barrack building before a draconic temper tantrum had leveled it. On the side farthest from them was the castle wall, though one spot looked much newer than the rest.

"Woo-hoo! Go, Mr. Spike!" Jeckel currently sat on his haunches leaning against Spike, his skinny frame rising and falling with every breath of the big dragon.

Spike smirked over to Heckel, who stood off to the side. "Heads up on this one, Jeckel. Pull!"

Heckel's horn flared, sending another apple flying. This time, Spike thought back to when Rarity held her second fashion show for Hoity Toity. He rotated his claw with a jerky motion. A fierce gust of wind came out of nowhere, instantly arresting the apple's flight and sending it careening back, where Jeckel caught it in his open mouth.

"Hood haim, Hisher Hike! 

Spike beamed under the praise. "Yeah, this whole magic thing isn't that hard once you get the hang of it."

"So, let me get this straight," Heckel said. "All you have to do to access untold amounts of magic is... think happy thoughts?"

Spike shrugged. "It's not that complicated, really. Like that jerkface dragon said, draconic magic is controlled by emotion, not thought. Feeling, not will. So, whenever I want to do something, I just think about my hoard—"

"All your friends in Ponyville, right?"

"Mm-hmm. Pull!" Another flying fruit. "I just remember all the good times—" Twilight receiving her first bachelors degree— "and boom!" His claw glowed a bright green, while an identical one surrounded the apple, jerking it to a halt. Spike grinned and floated the apple back to him.

"That's amazing, Mr. Spike! Heh, it took my brother months of hard study to learn kinesis!"

"Hey!" Heckel scowled as both earth pony and dragon giggled at his blush. "I was a late bloomer. Eat me. And while we're on the subject, how in the hoof can you even USE kinesis? That's a unicorn-specific magic. Every foal knows that!"

"Pony-shaped dragon," he muttered, eyes intently focused on the apple floating before his face.

"Huh?"

"Either of you ever been to a town called Tacksworn?" The twins shook their head. Spike chuckled as he floated the apple in front of his face. "It's not surprising. It's not the middle of nowhere, but you can see it in the distance. Anyway, I got a buddy that lives there named Chip, an earth pony. A while back, his parents died, and through a seriously messed-up series of events, Celestia sent him to be adopted by a dragon."

Jeckel spat out his bite of apple. "A dragon?!"

Spike nodded. "It's a long story... but a good one. Anyway, this earth pony gets adopted by a dragon, and not three weeks later, he eating gemstones and spitting fire like he'd been doing it his whole life."

"Horse apples!" Heckel stomped his hoof for effect.

"Nope, true story. It was actually the subject of Twilight's first publication: Sympathetic Yet Unintended Assumption of Species-Specific Thaumatic Traits Due To Familial Links." He chuckled at the blank states from the twins. "Yeah, she kinda sucks at titles. Long and short of it, by truly accepting the pony into his family, a bond was formed between their magic, allowing Chip to absorb some of the dragon-specific magic. Sharptooth tried to spin some crap about, 'the mysterious nature of dragons.' Heh, guess we know that's a load now, don't we?”

“But, Mr. Spike, um...” Jeckel’s brow furrowed hard, like he was contemplating the nature of the universe, “aren’t you a dragon?

Spike rolled his eyes. “Uh, duh! Of course I’m a dra—” The full weight of Jeckel’s words sunk in. “Yeah, well... I mean, it’s not the... Y—” He snorted a large plume of smoke. “Of all the times, now you decide to get smart...”

Jeckel beamed at the insult, then turned to his brother and blew a raspberry. “He thinks I’m smart!”

"Please fall in a hole somewhere," Heckel grumbled. "And would you get off of him? He's your charge, not a Lay-Z-Colt!"

"Aw, come on, Heckel!" Jeckel nuzzled lower into Spikes belly, earning a snerk of laughter from the large drake. "He's so warm! He's like a... a giant recliner with scales!"

"I'm not sure how I should feel about that," Spike mused.

Jeckel scooted over, patting Spike on the belly. "Come on, cop a squat!"

"Not on your life," Heckel growled through gritted teeth.

"Come on..."

"No!"

"Come oooonnnn..."

"Grr, you're not gonna shut up until I do, are you?!"

"Nope!"

Heckel growled one more time, then trudged over and plopped down with a loud harrumph. He wiggled his shoulders back and forth, scootching his rump this way and that before he finally found a comfortable position. As Spike exhaled, the unicorn sank into his belly just a bit.

If one had a microscope and a scholar's patience, one might have seen his scowl lessen, just a tad. "It's... not too uncomfortable."

"Well, slap my flank and call me a mule!"

Spike truly loved his life among ponies, but the one thing that always bugged him was ponies were always looking down on him... literally and figuratively. It's hard to take somepony seriously when they only come up to your kneecaps. But even past that, he had for years begged Twilight to stop referring to him as a "baby dragon." Sure, in the context of his species, he technically was, but he was almost twenty!

Now, though, his physical stature finally matched his ego; when everypony around you is the size of your head, a feeling of superiority is to be expected. Still, even after his unnatural growth spurt, there were two ponies that always made him feel small: Princess Celestia, and the behemoth of a mare that rounded the corner with Shining Armor in tow. Slate grey coat and crew cut mane, feminine head atop a body rippling with the kind of muscle that would make Big Macintosh want to take up crochet, and one of the two or three ponies on Earth who could look Celestia in the eye: General Stone Wall, commander of the Earth Pony Corps of Their Majesties' Royal Guard.

The burly mare looked to Shining. "Jeez Louise, Shiner! When you said he was big now, you wasn't kidding!" Her voice was coarse, like chewed gravel, but somehow light and bubbly. She turned to Spike. "Damn, boy, you get into some Miracle Gro or something?"

Spike grinned, barely having to look down to look her in her old, intelligent eyes. "Nope, just ancient, forbidden magic powered by equine sacrifice at the hooves of a lunatic who wanted to take over the world."

"Ha! Sounds like my average Friday!"

Shining stepped next to her, a bemused smile on his face. "Enjoying the break, gentlecolts?"

Both Heckel and Jeckel emitted a very loud meep, leaped to their hooves, and slammed salutes so hard that Shining cringed a little. Heckel cleared his throat. "Er, just, um... providing him cover?"

"Good evening, General Stone Wall, ma'am!" Jeckel yelled.

She returned the salute. "Private Jeckel, nice to see you again! How ya been?"

"Wait, you know him?"
Stone huffed at Spike. "I know every earth pony in my command, especially the ones I loan out to the screwheads."

"That's what I miss most about living in the Crystal Empire, Stone,” Shining said with a roll of his eyes, “your delightful passive racism.”

"Oh, hush," she said, waving a massive hoof dismissively. "It's all in good fun. One force, one fight, right? Hell, I'm married to a unicorn!" She knelt down to Shining, a lewd smirk on her grey features. "Of course, I'm pretty sure he's a half-breed, cause I'll be Luna damned if'n he don't act more like an earth pony in the sack!”

Shining did his best to suppress a gag. “Be careful, Stone, they say they can hear you when you swear by them."

"Heh, in that case, I should probably find them both and apologize for last night! I didn't know I was that flexible anymore." All four males collectively shuddered as images of the giant earth mare and her diminutive husband doing things best left unsaid played out in their minds.

She didn't seem to notice, turning back to Jeckel, placing a hoof on his shoulder that was bigger than his head. "How are you, son? They treating you right?"

Jeckel nodded furiously. "Oh, yes, ma'am! Just the other day, we got in a fight with a dragon!"

"A dragon?!" She leveled a glare at Spike that could kill a manticore.

He shrugged. "He started it."

She held her gaze for several moments before turning and looking behind him. Spike followed her gaze, only to find she wasn't looking behind him, more looking at his behind.  He fidgeted, his muscular legs crossing a bit. "Um, what... what are you doing?"

"Just trying to see where you're hiding them brass balls!"

Without thought, he replied, "Oh, they're internal."

"Aw, dude!" Shining turned away in disgust as Stone howled with laughter.

Spike turned beet red, but the epic grimace from Shining demanded he press on. "What, you mean you never noticed a lack of... well, a lack?"

"I don't make it a habit to check out other dude's packages! Besides, you're like," he shuddered, "family or something."

"And this is officially the most disturbing conversation of my life," Heckel grumbled.

"Ah, you already got a stick on your head, don't get one up your ass, too, Corporal!" Heckel nearly collapsed as Stone cuffed him on the shoulder. "Anyway, I just wanted to stop and check in with ya, Spiker. Ain't seen you since you was knee-high to a parasprite." She took a few steps closer to Spike. "You know you can always talk to me, right? I may not be a damn counselor or anything, but I'm always ready to lend an ear."

For a few moments, Spike could see the glimmer of maternal instinct in her hard eyes. He chuckled. Beneath all the muscle, the huffing and posturing, she was still a mother, wife, and a plain mare. "I know, Mrs. Wall, I know."

They shared a brief moment, then she offered a mocking scowl. "How many damn times I told you to stop calling me that?! You're making me feel old."

"You are old," Shining said, though Spike noted that he took several steps out of hoof's reach when he did.

She glared at him and knelt down into a combat stance, flexing her massive muscles. "Yeah, maybe, but I can still kick your sorry flank six ways from Sunday, you little screwhead twerp!”

“Oh, yeah?” Shining squared himself off, his horn glowing fiercely. “Bring it on, you mud-sucking grandma!”

The drill pad was silent for several precious seconds, save for the thrumming of Shining's horn and a quiet growling from Stone. Spike and the twins stared at the sight, totally and completely not hoping the two formidable warriors would throw down and have what would surely be the coolest and most ferocious battle of muscle and magic the world had ever seen. The two soldiers eyed each other with deadly intent, bulging muscles twitching and horn ablaze, each waiting to see who would blink first.

Stone cracked. She nearly collapsed to the ground in bellowing laughter, one foreleg clutching at her sides. “General Armor, sometimes I forget why I like you so damn much!”

Shining dimmed his horn. “Well, once you figure it out, remind me so I can stop doing it.”

To his credit, only one of Shining’s knees buckled when she slapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, Shiner, I'm gonna head on. Don't take too long, ya hear?" Shining nodded, and she looked back to Spike. "Don't you be a stranger, now, scales."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Wall." He waved at her as she walked away, the ground all but trembling under her hooves.

Shining cleared his throat, looking to the twins. "Why don't the two of you take the rest of the day off?"

Heckel opened his mouth, but Jeckel leaped forward. "I'm sorry, sir, but we can't just leave our charge. We have a duty to protect him."

"We're on castle grounds, you don't need t—"

"Welp, see ya tomorrow, Mr. Spike!" A dust cloud left in his stead, Jeckel bolted at speeds that would make an Olympian blush. Heckel rolled his eyes and grumbled, storming off after him.

Spike shot a look at Shining. "Equestria's finest, huh?"

"Well..." Shining watched Heckel trudge off, "in theory."

They both laughed as Spike stood up and stretched to a symphony of pops and cracks that made Shining cringe. "Jeez, Spike, I thought Luna healed you."

"Even alico-oh, dear goddess." A deafening crack came from his spine. "Even alicorn magic has its limits.” He grumbled contentedly and laid back on his stomach. “Say, shouldn’t you be in the Empire?”

Shining shook his head. “Celestia called an emergency meeting of the Defense Ministry."

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just some noise coming from Gryphonvale and Canidae."

Spike arched his eyebrow ridge. "I thought they were both cool with us now."

"Oh, the governments are, but they're not the only ones with sway in those countries. Apparently, several criminal outfits are rising in influence."

"What, like mobs?"

"Yup," Shining said with a nod. "And with Manehatten being so close to both borders, the princesses are a bit on edge about it."

"Wow. So, what are they gonna do about it?"

"I don't know," Shining said with a shrug, "I haven't gone to the meeting yet." As Spike face palmed, Shining's eyes narrowed just a bit. “Shouldn’t you be in Ponyville?”

The mirth instantly fell from Spike's face. He fell back to his belly, suddenly finding something off in the distance very interesting. “I’m... working on it.”

“Oh, really? How so?”

“Well, I... uh...”

Shining’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, for Celestia’s sake. You haven’t even told Twilight yet, have you?”

“I will!" he said, his tail slapping the concrete pad. "Look, it’s complicated, alright?”

“No, it’s not.”

Spike snorted. “Oh, and how would you know? I just found out a few days ago that I feel some kind of genetic feeling of ownership for all my friends and a town! It’s a bi—”

“No, that’s not it. You’re scared.”

Spike tensed, then stood to his haunches, glaring down at Shining. “Excuse me?”

Even in the face of a pissed off dragon, Shining never flinched. “You heard me.”

Spike’s tail slammed on the ground, rattling the windows of the disused barracks around them. “Not three days ago I punched a dragon in the face, then proceeded to beat the ever-loving crap out of him! What could I possibly be scared of?!”

Shining stared straight into him. “Being on your own.”

A tiny plume of smoke escaped Spike’s mouth. Quickly, he turned away and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, horse apples, you don’t!" Shining marched over to Spike's other side, staring him down. "I can see it plain as day!” When Spike said nothing, he pressed further. "Tell me, have you started packing yet?"

Another plume of smoke. "No," he mumbled.

"Spoken to anypony in Ponyville?"

"Well, I, uh..."

"Made arrangements for a place to st—"

"Okay, okay!" Spike pinched the bridge of his nose. "So maybe I'm a bit... nervous. What would you know about it anyway?"

“I felt the exact same way when I shipped out for basic," Shining answered evenly.

“What are you talking about?! I was there at your going away dinner, remember? You were all smiles and trying to act like you weren’t making googly eyes at Cadance!”

“Yeah, but you went back home to the castle that night. You weren’t there in the morning when the chariot came. Not even Twilight was there.”

Spike huffed and looked away. “So, you were a bit nervous?”

“I was in tears.”

Spike's entire body twitched. “You... you were crying?”

“Not just crying, bawling my eyes out. I was terrified!” He cast his eyes down, scuffing a hoof along the ground. “It... it was the first time I’d left home. Sure, I’d been pretty independent for a while, but this was different."

Spike huffed once more, but a noticeable amount of tension left his body as he watched Shining walk over to the pile of rubble. "How so?"

Shining's voice suddenly got very distant. "It was the first time I'd left home. Oh, I was all excited to be 'a real stallion,' but once that chariot pulled up, and it was right in front of me, that's when it really sank in."

"What?"

Shining sigh, and though he faced away, Spike could all but hear his broad shoulders slump as he idly flicked his hood across a two-by-four. "That I didn't have momma's apron strings to hide under anymore. From now on, everything was on me. My entire life was officially in my hooves... and it scared the horseapples outta me."

Shining finally spun back to look at Spike, his eyes firm. "Look, you can't keep putting this off. As I understand it, you have to do this, right? You need to be near Ponyville."

Spike fidgeted around for a moment. "Well, it... I mean, I don't have to... I don't think."

Shining tilted his head a bit. "But, the Princess made it sound like—"

"I know!" He sighed, resting his hands on his great belly. "I don't really get it myself, but now that I know about the whole hoard thing, it's easier, like... the itch is still there, but it's manageable."

"Manageable?"

"Yeah," Spike replied. "I figure if I just visit Ponyville every now and then, I could stay and help out Twilight with her job. No need to up and leave."

Shining nodded. "Okay. For how long?"
"Huh?"
"You heard me. How long are you going to hang off momma's teats?"
A visible shudder ran through Spike, ending in a sputtering cough of sparks and smoke. "Dude! That's your sister you're talking about! Besides, Twilight is not my mother!"

"Maybe not," Shining said, his eyes still hard, "but you're sure acting like it, trying to hide underneath her legs like a foal."

"That's not it!" Spike finally rose to his haunches and glared down at Shining. "Twilight needs me!"

Shining balked. "Stop trying to make this about her. It's about you, and what you need to do."

Spike snorted, crossing his arms and scowling. "Oh, do tell. What do I need to do?"

"You tell me."

The bluntness of his words had a visible effect on Spike. He all but fell down to all fours, rattling the ancient buildings around the pad. His massive shoulders slumped, and all his back spines and head fins fell flat against his body. "I don't know," he whined. "I know I should go, but... ugh, what would I even do?! Sure, the town is kind of a doomsday magnet, but it's not every day. What do I do on the normal days? Just walk around the city like some stupid guard." He stiffened. "Uh, heh... no offense."

"None taken," Shining deadpanned. "Okay, so what would you want to do?"

Spike just shot him a look.

"Well, before you got all big, what did you want to do? What were your plans for life?"

Spike shrugged. "I, uh, I-I don't know."

Shining looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Spike..."

The whiny, petulant sound Spike made was very out of place coming from the hulking dragon. He rolled onto his side, his tail curled up along his trunk. "Promise not to laugh?"

Shining nodded his assent.

"Well..." Spike groaned again, folding his claws under his head, his head fins twitching. "And you have to swear to not tell Twilight!"

"Spike, spit it out already!" he chuckled.

Spike rustled about for a few moments, looking around to be sure they were alone. "Well, I kinda wanted to, um... whrm... mn-libr-mhmm."

Shinin blinked. "Um, come again?"

Spike groaned. "Ugh! I wanted to work in the library, alright?!"

Thanks to years of living with or around Shining, Spike could plainly see the barely-restrained fit of giggles hidden just beneath his practiced mask of military bearing. "O—Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, keeping it all organized, it's kind of like a jigsaw puzzle; everything has to be in just the right place. It's fun if you let it be." He rolled back on his belly, head firmly rested on his folded arms. "Plus, I get to read all I want, but not when I don't want, unlike school. Make my own hours, live my own schedule, especially now that I’d be running the show, not Twilight. And it'd be a great way to keep track of my po—er, I mean, my friends." He shot a toothy grin down to Shining, who just chuckled.

"It's cool, Spike, I get the whole 'my ponies' thing." He blinked. "Actually, uh... no, no I really don't."

"Heh, neither do I, at least not completely. It's a bit hard to describe in words." He ran a claw along his jawline. "Hmm, it's, uh... oh! It's like a combination of your soldiers and your kids!"

"Um... what?"

"Well, see, I love them, like you love Dusk and Glimmer, but at the same time, I'm responsible for them, like your soldiers. Like... their lives are their own, but... they're also mine, because I... um, I mean I live through the— uh, no, no that's not right..."

Spike's confusion must have been plain on his face, because Shining silenced him with a hoof before he could embarrass himself further. "It's obviously something I couldn't get, but it's also very obvious how important it is to you."

Spike smiled at him. "Like I was saying, despite what a lot of ponies think, the Ponyville library actually gets a fair amount of business, so it'd be a great way to stay in the loop." His smile fell. "Not that it matters anymore." He shook go head and looked back down. "So, how did you get over it?"

"Heh, I didn't."

A pregnant pause. "What?"

Shining grimaced. "I didn't get over it. I just told you! The recruiter had to all but drag me away from Mom and Dad!" Behind him, Spike slowly rotated back onto his back, the chimney of smoke diluted into the occasional cloudy mist.

"Look, Spike." Shining turned away from him and took slow, even steps towards the castle. Spike rolled his eyes and sighed; he had spent enough time around the Sparkle family to know when one was getting into lecture mode.

  "I get that you've been dealing with a lot of 'dragon only' stuff lately, and I'm not going to even pretend that I understand it at all. But this, this is something that every sentient creature on the planet has had to deal with at some point.” Shining turned back to face Spike, a gentle smile on his face. “The sad fact is there isn't any spell or potion you can take, and it's not going to get any easier the longer you wait. You just have to do it."

A moment of silence passed between the two. An errant gust of wind caught Shining’s white-streaked blue mane, sending it flitting in front of his face in a very picturesque manner. His eyes trailed off to some distant point past Spike, his head tilting upwards ever so slightly as a confident smirk settled on his face.

Spike chuffed hard. "That's it?"

Shining blinked hard several times. “Huh?”

“That’s all you got?” Spike said, throwing his arms up. “No words of wisdom? No sage advice garnered from years of experience with this sort of thing that will lead me to a jarring realization? Just... do it?”

“Uh... yeah, pretty much.”

The only response Spike could muster were several loud sputters, combined with wild gesticulation. Finally, he groaned, running a claw over his face. “Dude, you suck at this.”

Shining turned his head and looked around, apparently trying to find whomever it was that Spike thought he was talking to. “Suck at what?”

“Ugh, nevermind.” Before Shining could respond, Spike trudged over to the castle wall and slumped down onto his rump.

For several moments he sat there, pondering Shining’s words. Though he would hate to admit it, especially to his face, his surrogate brother had a point; the decision wasn’t going to get any easier the longer he waited. At the same time, however, he knew Twilight! She was too smart for her own good, and she...

“She’s a grown mare,” Spike muttered.

“What was that?”

Spike briefly looked back at Shining. “Nevermind.” He sighed deeply and ran both claws over his head, smoothing down his spines. “You know, this has been the absolute craziest month of my life, and,” he chuckled, “and for a guy whose family and friends regularly either stop or start apocalyptic havoc, that’s really saying something.”

The two shared a laugh as a warm breeze washed over the pad. Shining shook his head and looked back at the massive drake that, in the most roundabout way possible, had become his little brother. “I gotta head to the meeting. You... you gonna be okay?”

“Heh, I’m getting there,” he said with a half-grin.

Shining smiled and turned, but stopped, whirling back around. "Oh, before I go, there’s one other pony who wanted to say something to you." As he spoke, he made his way back to the building he had first appeared from. There, just appearing from the shadows behind the dilapidated structure, Cadance stood with a warm smile gracing her lips. A modified set of saddlebags around her flank held little Twilight Glimmer, happily mouthing on a plastic toy, uttering an occasional infantile cry of joy.

Spike smiled widely. "Cadance!"

Before he could rise, she shook her head. "Not me."

Beside her, Shining spoke to another pony still hidden by shadows. "Come on, buddy."

After several moments of stillness, Dusk Shine hesitantly stepped from behind his mother's legs. His purple eyes were still wide as dinner plates, though the pegasus colt's wings were not splayed out in fear as they had been last time Spike saw him.

Instinctively, Spike dropped as low to the ground as he could and laid his spines as flush to his body as he could. Dusk's steps were trembling, but solid. He gulped visibly, stopping just shy of Spike's massive snout. "U-Uncle... Uncle Spike?"

Spike's voice was barely a whisper. "Yeah, it's me, flycolt."

Dusk's jaw hung open in awe as he craned his little neck, trying to take in the massive body before him. "How did you get so big?!"

"Heh, I, uh..." He cast a quick glance to Cadance. "I ate my alfalfa."

The colt gasped loudly, then turned and faced Shining. "Daddy, can we have 'falfa for dinner?"

"We'll see, buddy," Shining said, before nodding back to Spike. "But isn't there something you wanna say to Uncle Spike?"

Dusk slowly turned back to Spike. As he did, his wings drooped."Daddy said I made you sad.”

Spike winced a bit. “Well, yeah, it hurt a bit, little dude.”

Dusk’s eyes fell to the ground, and he kicked at the dirt beneath him. “I’m sorry.”

Spike had to chuckle as a twinge shot through his chest at the adorable display. "Aw, it's okay, Dusker. Don't worry about it." He leaned in closer, thrilled that the colt didn’t flinch or shy away, and rustled his mane a bit. "I'm still your favorite uncle, right?"

Dusk blinked hard several times, his face twisted in foalish confusion. "But... you’re my only uncle." It was obvious from his face that Dusk had no idea why that was so funny, but when his parents and Spike all laughed, he quickly joined in.

Suddenly, Dusk's face lit up brightly. "Oh!" His tiny wings buzzed like a honeybee and he raced through the air back towards Cadance. He hovered over her rump and reached down to where baby Glimmer was gnawing away at her pacifier. He let out a little grunt and lifted his baby sister into the air.

“Dusk, sweetie, be careful,” Cadance said.

 “Don’t worry, mama, I got her!” His flight path back to Spike was erratic and shaky, and Spike couldn't help but notice the faint blue aura keeping Glimmer steady.

Already exhausted from the strain, but not caring as children are wont to do, he set Glimmer down on her back at Spike's head. The infant's eyes bulged from her head, her mouth open in the enraptured awe of a baby as she looked up at the massive dragon before her.

Dusk walked towards Spike, stopping next to his head. "This is the baby, Uncle Spike. Her name’s Glimmer!” He whirled around to face his sister. “Glim, this is Uncle Spike,” he said, gesturing to him with a hoof.

Glimmer cooed in fascination, and Spike felt his heart flutter a bit. He gently, so very gently, reached a single claw towards her. He noticed Cadance tense just a bit as the razor-sharp claw that was longer than she was tall reached for her baby daughter's exposed belly, but Shining quickly nuzzled against her, soothing her worry.

"Hey, Glimmer," Spike whispered as he poked his claw at her belly.

The foal's eyes never left his face, her jaw still hanging. "A-buh-buh?"

Dusk crept up beside her, laying on his belly, and gently nuzzled against her head. “Don’t be scared, Glim. Uncle Spike’s a big scary dragon,” he smiled up at Spike, “but he’s our big scary dragon.”

As he spoke, Glimmer finally looked away from Spike's face, turning her attention to his jutting claw. She squealed in foalish glee and reached up for his claw, bringing the tip of his claw to her mouth and sucking on it like a pacifier.

"Oh, good grief." Spike grinned at Cadance and Shining. "I think I'm going into diabetic shock."

Cadance stifled a laugh while Dusk began flying laps around Spike. "Yeah, they tend to have that effect.”

On the other side of the Castle grounds, the ivory and gold-laced halls of the Royal Court echoed with shrill, pathetic sobs. A frumpy, elderly stallion was on his knees, wailing theatrically.  He took a gulping, sniveling breath and looked up to the ivory and onyx thrones, where sat the Royal Sisters. "And so you see, y-y-your Highnesses, I would be most honored if, in your in–infinite wisdom, you saw fit to honor his memory."

Celestia smiled warmly down on the quivering pony, summoning as much compassion as her ancient heart could muster. "We shall certainly take your petition under advisement, Lord Bitsmouth, and we are very sorry for your loss." The stallion brightened at this, and Celestia let out a small breath; she didn't think the stained-glass windows of the Court could handle another round of his wailing.

The stallion gave a deep bow. "Thank you, Your Majesties." After another bow to Princess Luna, he turned and trotted off, sniffling quietly.

As he left, Princess Luna maintained her tight-lipped smile, offering a genial wave of her hoof. The instant the door to the court chambers closed behind him, Luna turned to Celestia, fixing her with the deepest glare possible. "No, Tia. Absolutely not."

"Oh, Lulu, have a heart," Celestia pouted.

Luna's eyes all but bugged out of her skull. "I am not creating a new constellation to commemorate his dead goldfish!"

"But Luna," Celestia cried as she gasped in shock, "you heard him! Poor Mr. Shiny-Fins was his only friend."

Luna groaned and sank into her onyx throne. "Only because it forgot about his pompous, arrogant flank every five seconds," she huffed.

The diarchs giggled furiously until the court viser's dusty voice called out from below them. "Next petitioner, a Doctor Twilight Sparkle, Professor of Advanced Magical Theory, Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns."

Celestia perked up, turning to see Twilight cantering down the red carpet towards them. "Twilight, my faith—"

"Former student of Her Serene Immortal Highness, Princess Celestia, and Bearer of the Element of Magic."

Celestia smiled beatifically. "Yes, thank you Quick Wit, we—"

"Savior of the Frozen North, noted scholar an—"

"Oh, shut up!" Luna snapped.

The wizened stallion looked up at her with a devious smile. “Noted scholar and friend of the crown.”

Luna shot him a cold glare usually reserved for only the most petulant of noble petitioners.

He gave a sly grin and bowed as low as his old bones could manage. “Your Highness.”

She huffed, and blew him a very dignified, princess-like raspberry

Celestia snickered at the scene, then turned back to the approaching Twilight. Slowly, her smile faded from her face. She had known Twilight for many years, and was almost as adept at reading her moods as Spike. The thin, not-quite to her ears smile, the ever so slight hesitancy in her steps, and the one or two out-of-place hairs in her mane. "Twilight? My dear, what's wrong?"

Twilight finally reached the thrones, and gave a slight bow before looking back at them. "Princesses," she gulped and flashed a very wide grin.

"I need a favor."