//------------------------------// // CHAPTER I: Genesis // Story: Perseus // by Smoku //------------------------------//          Spike’s adventure into the Dragonlands was a harsh one. He had been dropped off just past the Equestrian border by a Royal Guard unit. From there, he had walked for many days, though he didn’t know exactly how many. He lost count after three. Eventually, he came to an inn located right on the outskirts of a small village.          Approaching from the south, Spike saw the small run down building. It was made of black stone, which seemed to be crumbling and showing many cracks throughout its surface. The building itself was a single story, with only half a roof. Standing outside the inn were several dragons around his height, though none of their scales could compare to the pristineness of his own.         A sign st atop the entrance to the inn. It was made of wood, and sat crooked with only one nail keeping it quasi-stable. It read, in dark red lettering, “The Winking Skeever.” Despite its crudeness and obvious danger, Spike found the inn to be oddly charming. As he entered the establishment, he could feel his nostrils be assaulted by the rank smell of smoke and alcohol.         Splattered across the walls were posters of scantily-clad dragonesses in very seductive poses. There was also some dragons throwing darts at what looked like targets on the far left wall. Placed near the back was a pool table where several dragons, each of them missing some sort of appendage, stood near it screaming. Near the entrance to the inn stood the bartender behind a crumbling and stained bar.         “Yo,” Spike said as he took a seat at the bar.                  “Yo,” the bartender said. He was an old dragon, that much was noticeable by his long, white beard. His scales were a dull red, with several scales missing. He hunched over the bar and asked Spike what he was having.         “I just want some information,” he responded.         “Oh? Really? Well, tell me, what is it you wanna know, youngin’?”         “I’ve heard there’s an old dragon named Hercales who dwells here. I’d like to know where I can find him.” The bartender raised his eyebrow at that and chuckled.         “So, you looking for ol’ Herc?” At Spike’s nod, he continued. “Alright, son. To the east of this shithole is an old run-down village. You wanna go past that pisspot and go west once you exit. There’ll be a cave not too far where you’ll find Persy.”         “Thank you,” Spike said.         After his conversation with the old Bartender, Spike spent the night at the Winking Skeever. When morning came, he decided it was time to head out to find Hercales. Just as the old dragon had said, there was a rundown village just east of the inn. Spike passed through it without incident, as he didn’t stop to talk to anyone. If a week in dragon territory had taught him anything, it was that keeping to himself was the best decision most of the time. Leaving the village, he did indeed see the cave the Bartender had mentioned. It looked to be about a full day’s hike from where he was.                  Just as he thought, Spike arrived at the cave around sunset. It was a large cave, etched into a mountain easily hundreds of feet tall. The mountain itself was, like most of the Dragonlands, covered in a never-ending sheet of snow and ice. It looked like the mountain’s original coloring was black, though now it was mostly white due to its being buried in snow.          Looking through the entrance of the cave, Spike couldn’t see a thing. Nothing but total and complete darkness faced him. He supposed he wouldn’t have any idea what he had gotten himself into until he was face-to-face with it. Typical, he thought.          Even as he entered the cave, no discernable image revealed itself to Spike. He stepped right into the darkness, his heart racing. What he could tell, though, was that the cave was quite spacious and felt freeing almost. Strange, he thought, I thought most Dragon’s caves were cluttered with gold and jewels.          “Hello Spike.” Spike heard a deep and reverberating voice call to him, and suddenly his racing heart didn’t make a single sound. Something deep within him stirred awake and he turned around, focusing his eyes trying to find the source of the voice.         “Who said that? Show yourself!” He yelled into the darkness.         Suddenly, Spike heard a deep sound that seemed to be a chuckle, though louder than most beings’ greatest yell. “You certainly are your father’s son. If it will make you feel better, yelp, than I shall reveal myself to your eyes.”         Suddenly the cave was alight by what seemed to be torches placed all along the walls. The walls were rocky, made of some kind of black mineral that looked sharp enough to impale the thickest of scales. In front of Spike laid a behemoth of a dragon.         This dragon was larger than any single creature Spike had ever seen. Though the cave was absolutely massive, the Dragon actually took up the back third of it. Its scales were a dark deep blue, the kind of shade one only encountered when looking out across the most vast and unknowable oceans. The dragon’s wings were larger than Princess Celestia many times over. Atop his head lay two curved horns that looked to be made of gold the way they shimmered and shined in the fire of the torches that lit the cave. Its claws were sharper than any sword or spear Spike had ever seen. Even the mineral that the cave was made of, that Spike thought could pierce any dragon’s scales by their look, bent and broke to those claws.          That wasn’t even mentioning the creature’s eyes, though. Those eyes were a deep, dark shade of purple. A shade of purple Spike had only ever seen floating above him in the depths of the sky during particularly beautiful sunrises. The eyes of the creature bore into him, larger than life. Spike could feel himself whimpering whenever he stared into them. “What are you?” Spike asked.          “Just a Dragon.” The beast responded.          “No,” Spike said, “you are no Dragon. I have seen Dragons. I am a Dragon. You are a behemoth.”                  Again, the beast bore a deep, resounding chuckle that deeply frightened Spike. “No. You are but a child, barely even a hatchling. And those others are not Dragons, not really. The blood that flows through their veins is of the Wyvern. Mine and yours, though, that is the blood of those old, immortal beasts: the Dragon.”                  “Is there a difference?” Spike asked.         The beast shook his head and snorted. “Faust, Celestia withheld from you even that simple information? Yes, there’s a damn difference. Dragons are majestic and powerful creatures, Gods amongst mortals. Wyverns, though, they are but overgrown lizards completely lacking in the grace or power of their most distinguished cousins.”         Spike felt himself shrink at that. “How do you know my name?”         “Celestia told me you were coming,” the beast responded. “She believes it is time you discovered your heritage. And she knew it was best I recounted it to you.”         “My heritage?” The young drake asked.          “Yes,” the beast confirmed, “your heritage. Your parentage, your destiny, if you will.”         “What would you know of my destiny?” Spike asked in a soft, barely audible tone.         “Oh,” he chuckled, “quite a bit. I am your brother, after all.”         “My brother?”         “Yes, your brother. Your father is my father.”         “And I assume you are Hercales?” Spike asked.                  “Among other things, yes,” he responded.         “And why should I believe anything you say?” Spike asked, shakily.         “I think you know,” he said.         Spike realized Hercales was right. As much as he wanted to fight it, he could feel a certain connection to this dragon. The same he felt for Twilight, he knew. He could feel it in his very soul, that this creature was of his blood, that all he said was the truth.                  “I do,” said Spike. “What can you tell me about my heritage?”         “Whatever you want to know, whelp.”         “Can you tell me who my parents are?” Spike asked.         “Of course. Our father is the same, though our mothers differ, but I can still tell you of her.” Hercales responded.         “Who is my father?” Spike asked. Finally, he thought, this is what I’ve waited for.         “Your father is King Zeus.”         “King Zeus?” Spike liked the way those words felt on his tongue. King Zeus, huh?         “Yes,” Hercales continued. “King Zeus, though king is a misleading title. He is more than a King. He is a God. The King of the Old Gods, in fact.”         He continued to speak despite Spike’s confused look. “Zeus is the King of the celestial, ancient dragons whom reside over all creation. All of the Old Gods have some area of the physical universe they hold dominion over. Our father’s is the very sky.”         “No way,” Spike said. “Everyone knows the Old Gods abandoned all of creation millennia ago. The Equestrian Princesses are all that remain of their time.”         “You’re right. The Old Gods did abandon us. But they still exist. Atop the City of Olympus. And our father is their king.” Hercales responded.         “As crazy as it sounds, I think I actually believe you,” Spike said. I must be losing my mind, he thought. “Then who’s my mother?”         “This one will surprise you. You’ve met her. It’s Celestia.”         “Celestia?” Spike asked, wide-eyed. “No way. You’re lying. You have to be.”         “Ah, but I’m not. Zeus had a love child with the Princess of Ponies many millennia ago.”         “But I’m not even twenty years old!” Spike practically yelled, feeling the heat in his chest rise up.         “You hatched not even twenty years ago. Your egg is many millennia old. Your egg laid unhatched for so long only because your grandfather attempted to have you killed.”         “Why would he do that?!” Spike practically yelled, feeling his chest contract in frustration.         “That’s simple. He was told of an old prophecy, one that said his own grandson would slay him, so he had you stolen from your mother and she banished. Eventually, she found you but was unable to hatch you for many years due to the Divine Magic embewed within you.” Hercales explained, smirking. He took much pleasure in seeing the gears of Spike’s head slowly unravel.          “Holy shit,” Spike said, “this is insane.”         “Stories involving Zeus usually are,” Hercales responded. “Anyway. Zeus has shown an interest in meeting you. I believe you know where he is.”         Again, Spike knew that Hercales was right. As he learned of his parentage from his half-brother, Spike felt a swelling deep within him. Eventually, he was able to decipher it. It was a map, a map visualized in his head. He supposed it was a map to his father. Did he really want to do this? Confront his birth father? He supposed it was time to find out. Before that, though, he resolved to speak to Starlight and Twilight.