The Wyrd of a Dragon

by Gizogin

The Dragon

Trixie's headache had returned with a vengeance. Being forcibly thrown out of a semi-telepathic bridge had a tendency to do that, apparently. As the little hospital room faded into view, Trixie noted with some surprise that the moon had risen. The small slice of skyline visible in the window was no less dark for it; Manehattan was known as 'the city that never sleeps', after all, and for good reason.

Twilight was on her in a flash, checking Trixie's eyes and horn. When she was once again satisfied that Trixie had suffered no harm, she unleashed a barrage of questions: what happened this time, did Trixie figure out what to do, why had it taken so long, was she hungry?

The last question was the only one Trixie had any interest in at the moment. Doing some quick calculations, Trixie realized that her last meal had been more than eight hours ago; she was famished. At some point during Trixie's wandering, a nurse or other hospital orderly had brought a tray of food to the room, and princess and performer took a break for a late dinner.

While it was perfectly ordinary hospital food, and therefore only a meal in that it was technically edible, Trixie was too hungry and exhausted to care.

"So," Twilight said around a mouthful of leaves claiming to be a salad, "what happened this time?"

It's amazing, Trixie thought, transfixed by the princess. Did nopony teach her to chew? I've seen tornados less messy. For her part, despite the protestations of her stomach, Trixie was taking her meal steadily. She made sure to swallow before answering, "Trixie ran into a dragon."

Twilight arched an eyebrow.

"Not like that. A real dragon. He mistook Trixie for a common thief and... took offense. Before you say anything, Trixie never so much as touched his hoard."

"Trixie..." Twilight said warningly. She'd moved on to the 'dessert', which did not resemble a slice of cake so much as a slightly damp kitchen sponge. How in Equestria does she eat so fast? Does she not need to breathe?

Deciding that wondering about whether or not pegasi–and therefore alicorns–had air sacs was not a productive use of her time, Trixie said, "Anyway, that's not important. Trixie might know how to wake Spike up."

Only her quick reflexes saved Trixie from a spray of crumbs. "What?! Why didn't you say so? You figured out why he's unconscious?"

"Not exactly," Trixie said. "But there's something... off in his head. I don't know how to explain it, but if I go back in, I think I can fix it."

Twilight considered this for a moment. Taking the opportunity to finish her own meal, Trixie tried to read the princess's thoughts. The pony she'd been dealing with all afternoon was a far cry from the unsure little unicorn she'd first met all those months ago. Her first impression had been of an indoorsy, bookish young mare who cut her mane with a straightedge; the sheer power in that little frame had blown Trixie away completely. The Princess of Friendship hadn't found a new stylist yet, but in every other respect she was barely recognizable. If the alicorn in this little room picked up a rampaging Ursa Minor by main force and carried it back to its lair, Trixie would be more surprised that she'd allowed it to run free in the first place.

Trixie could scarcely imagine the kind of turmoil Twilight had to be going through. By all appearances, she hadn't left this room once since Spike had been brought in. Add in a few hours of constant mental magic, and she had to have been almost dead on her hooves. And yet, Twilight let almost nothing show. She had a job to do, and nothing would be gained by losing her composure.

Really, the only thing missing was a basic understanding of table manners.

"Okay," Twilight said. "If you really think you can do this, I'll send you back in."

"I'm ready."

The pair rose to their hooves and resumed their positions beside the bed. "I don't know if Spike will be able to give you another try," Twilight said softly. "He's tough, but he's still young, especially for a dragon. This is probably the last chance we have."

Trixie took one last look at the recumbent dragon. "I won't need another."

It was amazing how quickly repeated exposure could turn even the most fantastic and alien experiences into routine. The first time Trixie had seen it, Spike's mind-tower had seemed impossible and imposing; by the third visit, it just looked like a giant slab of rock. The more interesting feature was the reappearance of the Hero in front of the now-closed front door.

He spotted Trixie immediately, and he wrested the tip of his lance from the ground. Though he held it in a threatening grip with the business end pointed square at the unicorn, he made no move to charge her. His intention, it seemed, was to scare her away.

Trixie took it as an encouraging sign. She hadn't been run through yet; there was a chance this could work. "Hello!" she hailed, keeping her distance.

"Trixie," the Hero spat. "You won't get by me a third time. I don't know or care if you think you're helping, but Spike is in enough trouble without you poking your muzzle where it doesn't belong."

Technically, Trixie only got by you once; the first time, you let her in yourself, she thought, though saying so aloud would only earn her another headache. Instead, she said, "Trixie is not here to cause trouble. In fact, she has no intention of entering that door at all."

The Hero snorted. "Right. You expect me to believe you came here to, what, enjoy the scenery? Maybe do a bit of grazing?" He scuffed a booted foot at the dry dirt that covered the ground in all directions, giving Trixie a flat look.

It was a wind-up, and Trixie didn't rise to it. "Trixie expects you to bring the Assistant and the Beast out here in the next thirty minutes. You don't have to believe anything."

A moment of utter bemusement gave way to several more of roaring laughter. Trixie waited patiently for the Hero to regain his composure and wipe the tears from his eyes. "Wow," he said breathlessly, "forget stage magic; you should do stand-up. You want me to abandon my post, again, and convince not just the Assistant, but also the Beast to walk all the way up here just because you asked for it? Trixie, are you completely insane?"

Trixie carefully kept all emotion from her face. Any other day, and Trixie would challenge you to a duel for an insult like that! Wait, no, no more duels. Well, she would... forbid you from attending her shows! Consider yourself lucky, Spike.

The Hero seemed to realize that Trixie was not, in fact, joking. "Yep, completely insane," he muttered. "Okay, Trixie. Even supposing that you really do think the Assistant and the Beast need to be here for some reason, and that somehow they can help you help Spike, I don't trust you enough to leave you out here alone. And I definitely can't let you in again."

This is it, then. Time to see if I'm right. "You can trust Trixie," Trixie said. It was less a promise than a statement of fact. "That's what you do, isn't it? It took Trixie a while to figure it out, but you're not really the Hero. This whole place is Spike's mind, and ponies—er, dragons—don't have different personalities living inside them." She noted with satisfaction that the Hero had put up a stoic facade, trying not to show what he was thinking. He wasn't very good at it. "That means you have to represent something else. Isn't that right, Conviction?"

The Hero—or, if Trixie had guessed right, Conviction—lowered his lance. "That was either a lot of creative thinking or an absolutely inspired guess," he said. Then he smiled. It wasn't like the ones he'd shown earlier; instead of bravado and fierce teeth, this smile showed admiration and a little bit of embarrassment. It was the kind of smile that Trixie saw on the little colts and fillies who had just seen her show for the first time and wanted to meet the mare who'd shown them something new and magical. That kind of smile was why she wore her hat and cape, why she went on stage in the first place. It had taken losing to Twilight Sparkle twice for her to remember that.

"I'm right, then?" Trixie asked. The figure now positively identified as Conviction nodded. "Then the other two must be Reason and Instinct."

"Right again."

Thank Celestia. Trixie didn't know what she would have done if her hypothesis hadn't panned out. Conviction hadn't been far off the mark to call it a lucky guess. Time to make a few more. "So, can Trixie count on your help?"

"Well, it's not that simple. It's like you said; trusting is what I do. The others will take some convincing," Conviction said. He seemed almost expectant, as though waiting to hear what Trixie would say next.

"Trixie has an idea about that. Is it safe to say that Spike trusts Twilight's judgement when it comes to magic?"

"Well, yeah," Conviction said, as though the answer were so obvious that he couldn't believe it had been asked.

It was exactly what Trixie had been hoping to hear. "In that case, tell Reason that Twilight Sparkle would not have sent Trixie here if she were not convinced that doing so was the best way to wake Spike up. Because she did not give any specific instructions to Trixie, she must think that Trixie can work best on her own initiative, and Trixie's initiative requires him to come outside the tower. Make sure he understands that this spell is incredibly difficult and that Twilight has been holding it up for more than two hours. He should be able to figure out the rest."

Conviction nodded in understanding, if not necessarily confidence. Just to be sure, Trixie made him repeat back to her what he was to say. When she was convinced that Reason would get the message, she moved on to Instinct. This would be trickier; Trixie had no idea how to convince a territorial dragon to abandon his hoard, even if only for a moment. What do dragons value more than gems?

The answer came in a flash; he'd told her himself, after all. "Tell Instinct that this is a story he won't want to miss," she said simply.

"That's it?"

"That's it." There was so much that could go wrong. Trixie's plan would only work if Conviction could get both Reason and Instinct to follow him to the surface. More than that, all three had to be willing to listen to her, and she barely knew what to say. She was still missing the final piece, but it wouldn't matter if the rest fell apart.

Trixie put those thoughts and doubts out of her mind. On stage, worrying about making a mistake was the surest way to make one; the best thing was to deal with problems as they happened. Above all, she had to believe it would work. As long as Trixie gave it her all, even if a trick fizzled, the audience would at least see her best. The show would go on.

Conviction promised to give Trixie's messages to his compatriots, then disappeared into the bleak tower. He pushed the heavy door closed behind him, but, as Trixie had suspected, it swung open a few moments later. This place is still infuriatingly metaphorical, she complained inwardly. All it had to say was 'open-minded'. Trixie wasted a lot of time on this door. Still, even though it wasn't directly related to Spike's current condition, the open door had given Trixie the hint she'd needed to figure out her next move.

Instead of following the armored figure back into the tunnels, Trixie turned around and headed in the opposite direction, further into the featureless plain surrounding it. Out here, in whatever part of Spike's subconscious this was supposed to represent, was the last piece of the puzzle. Conviction, Reason, and Instinct were just ways of thinking; by themselves, they would stay trapped in the same circles forever.

They were the mind. They needed a body.

If Trixie couldn't find it, Spike would never wake up. With only the tower and her own gut to serve as her guides, Trixie started walking.

All the energy in Twilight's spell had gone into constructing the tower of his thoughts and memories, it seemed; the plain of flat, featureless dirt was perfectly uniform and empty in all directions. It made judging distance and direction all but impossible, since Trixie's hoofsteps left no prints and there wasn't even a sun or moon to give a heading. Trixie made absolutely sure to keep the tower that was her only landmark in sight at all times.

On the upside, the utterly barren landscape did make finding her target much easier. Trixie only had to circle the tower once to spot the one patch of dirt that looked different, and she made a beeline for it.

Drawing closer, Trixie saw the patch of raised earth for what it actually was: Spike. He looked much closer to his actual appearance than did any of the other mental representations she'd seen so far. He might have been a bit leaner, a bit less stocky, but otherwise he was the same as the dragon back in the ward, right down to the way he was lying motionless in the dirt.

"Spike?" Trixie called when she was just a few strides away.

Slowly, Spike tilted his head to look at the source of the noise. If he was surprised to see Trixie, he didn't show it; nor, in fact, did he show any reaction at all. A moment later, as though the simple act of raising his head had overcome him, he dropped it back to the ground.

It was a pathetic sight, if not an unexpected one. "Spike," Trixie said, firmly, "get up."

"Don't wanna," he answered.

Ugh, it's like getting a colt out of bed in the morning. "You can't lie there in the dirt all day."

Spike shrugged. "Why not?"

Ponies are worried about you, Trixie could have told him. It was true, and it might at least have made Spike feel guilty, but it wasn't what Trixie said. No, she'd been through far too much nonsense today to deal with a moody psychic construct. What came out of Trixie's mouth was, "Because if you don't get up right now, I will grab you by the tail and drag you to the tower. How do you think that's going to look, hmm?"

The little dragon sat up laboriously, frowning at Trixie. "That's the best you can do? Seriously?"

"Time to go," she announced, stepping forward to take Spike's pointed, purple tail between her teeth.

Before she could get there, Spike hopped to his feet. "I'm up! I'm up," he said hurriedly. "To the tower, you said? Lead the way!"

Trixie pushed Spike to the front, letting him take the lead. That way, he wouldn't be able to slip away and go back to his spot in the dirt. The tower wasn't far, and Trixie hoped Conviction and the others would be there when they returned.

"So, uh," Spike ventured, unable to keep a hint of amusement from his voice, "my tail?"

"Trixie has had a long day."

Conviction, Reason, and Instinct were waiting for Trixie and Spike when they reached the front of the tower. Conviction and Reason were arguing about something, judging by their bearing, while Instinct ignored them both. The enormous dragon had evidently been unable to fit his whole body through the door; he'd settled for having just his head and neck protrude from the tower. This had the side-effect of completely blocking the only entrance, meaning Reason and Conviction would be stuck until he deigned to return to his lair.

Whatever their discussion had been about, the sight of Spike rounding the corner, Trixie at his heels, brought it to a halt.

"Trixie! There you are!" Conviction greeted. "These two thought you'd stood us up."

"It was the most likely conclusion, given your past behavior," Reason helpfully added. The pony in Spike's colors somehow made even the featureless dirt look exciting by comparison. Unfinished was the word that came to mind, as though somepony had made the basic shape of a pony and left all the details for later.

In stark contrast, Instinct looked every inch the dragon he was. Each scale and wicked fang stood in sharp relief. Though he glanced in her direction when she arrived, Instinct showed no other reaction to Trixie's presence.

"Trixie was looking for him," she explained, gesturing to Spike. He gave a sheepish wave.

"Who's this?" Conviction asked, apparently noticing Spike for the first time. Even then, he seemed to be having trouble focusing; his gaze kept sliding off the little dragon.

He's trying to connect, Trixie thought excitedly, but it isn't enough. Just a little bit more. "Reason," she said, addressing the pony from Spike's mental library, "any guesses?"

"He looks like..." Reason started, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to say any more.

Instinct snorted impatiently. "You promised a story, and all you have are riddles. Just tell us who he is."

Trixie shook her head. "Sorry, Instinct. You have to figure it out yourselves. All three of you."

Surprisingly, the two dragons and one pony didn't even argue. Instead, they huddled up around Instinct's head and whispered furiously to each other, pausing only for an occasional glance at Spike.

They're curious. That's a good sign.

"Hey, Trixie?" came the voice of the fourth Spike at her side.

The uncertainty in his words caught Trixie's notice. "What is it?"

"I know you said they had to figure out who I am for themselves," he said, "but... who am I?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"It... it is!" he yelled. Evidently, it had come out a bit louder than he'd expected, as he immediately clamped a claw over his mouth. It was too late; his outburst had caught the attention of the other images of Spike, who stopped their debate to focus on him. At Trixie's encouraging nod, he said, "I'm Spike!"