Memoir of a King’s Master Consort by Sir Spike

by CrackedInkWell

17: Camping Trip

We watched those five grow as the years went by. Once they were old enough to shed their larva chitin, not only were they considered old enough to leave the nursery, but they took on new, brighter colors, as well as able to develop their own personalities. Yet, to Thorax’s decree, the five of them were to spend their childhoods in the same room. Only when they’ve reached their teen years would they get their own rooms when they get a sense of privacy.

As months went on, the five hatchlings had collected things in which reflected the personalities that they put on display in their corner of the room.

Atalanta, for example, had slowly made clear that she was more of a tomboy than anything else. She loved the game of Changeling Ball, developed a taste for camping whenever we got the chance to, and (to Pharynx’s approval) she gathered a collection of toy soldiers in which she has them guarding her bed.

Junior took up drawing at an early age. At first, he used to scribble random lines on the page of a variety of colors from his crayon box. But as he grew up, those scribbles had started to take on shapes. Still crude, but from the stick figures, it became a little clearer what was on the page such as trees, the sun, the hive, Changelings, Thorax and Lavender, and even me breathing fire. Around his bed are discarded crayons and color pencils on the floor and dozens of drawings on the wall.

Velvet surrounded her bed with boxes of jigsaw puzzles. The only way I could describe her is that as soon as she was able to learn how to speak, she wanted to know how everything around her works. Almost curious at birth, she tends to ask a bunch of questions about anything and everything she found was new, and won’t let a question go once she asked it.

The youngest colt, Sekto is a little more interesting. For while he likes the outdoors as much as his older sister, interestingly he has picked up something from his father. In that, he plays whatever dolls or action figures that he could get his hooves on. Thorax paid close attention to him as he and his little sister are the most sensitive of the group.

And then there’s the youngest, Scheherazade. Who like the mare she was named after, fell in love with stories. Obviously, Twilight likes her so every time she visited, she had a little package of foals’ books to give her. So it’s no secret that her favorite time of day is bedtime as anticipates us reading a bedtime story to them. Out of all of them, she manages to play with all of them regardless of the activity.

Now that I’ve given you an idea of what our children are like, I have to confess that I’m not exactly sure what sort of stories about them and us I should tell. However, for the sake of the story, I suppose that I can tell you a few episodes in our lives to give an idea of what they were like as children. Now that I think of it, I think there’s one memory that illustrates the personalities of all five of these hatchlings.

I recall one summer when they were about six years old that the Changeling King decided to go on a camping trip into the forest nearby. On that day with a small entourage Atalanta, Sekto and Queen Lavender took to lead the caravan through the forest. On my back, I carried Junior while Velvet and Scheherazade walked next to Thorax.

“Uncle Spike?” Junior asked, still clutching to my scales. “How much longer?”

“You know we’re almost to our camping spot.”

“But how much longer?”

I judged the shadows from the trees. “Probably about half-an-hour, twenty-five minutes tops.”

“But I thought nothing is about twenty-five minutes?” Velvet inquired.

This got their father curious, “How so?”

“Well, have you ever noticed how anytime anybody uses the words, ‘It’ll be in twenty-five minutes,’ it tends to be much longer than that?”

“Sometimes,” the King nodded. “But that’s just a guess of how long something would take. And not all guesses are accurate.”

“What does ‘accurate’ mean?” Scheherazade inquired.

I answered this one. “It’s a word meaning that something is exact or it falls in how you’d expected to be.”

“Uncle Spike,” Junior whined. “I’m bored. Can you fly for a bit?” I grabbed him off my back to look at his green chitin and yellow antlers that started to grow from his head. He looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Maybe do like a loop-de-loop?”

“But have your wings developed yet?”

He stretched out one of his see-through, light green wings. “I’m not ready Uncle.”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the King. “Hey Thorax, you wouldn’t mind if I take Junior up to teach him how to glide?”

After looking up with a judging hum, he replied, “Just don’t go higher than the tree line, and don’t go out of my sight.”

“Got it,” I spread my wings and flew up about a good thirty feet in which I hovered over the trail. In my claws, I can feel Junior shaking.

“W-What if I fall?” he timidly asked.

I pointed out that falling is part of gliding. “If anything, you’re using your wings to not only control how slowly you fall but were as well. Don’t worry, you’ll have me just right above ya. But first, you need to spread both of your wings out wide.” He did so. “Now the trick is to keep them straight and even so that way, you’ll fly around like…” I thought over for a moment when I figured out the right comparison. “Just like how you toss around those paper airplanes.”

He looked up at me with those light blue eyes. “A paper airplane?”

“Yeah, exactly! In fact, that’s all they do is glide around the room. Same idea here. So as long as you don’t move your wings, you should be able to do the same. Okay?”

Junior nodded timidly, his eyes looking down at the trail. Then on the count of three, I tossed him forward, letting him out a shriek as he flew. Of course, I had a claw reached just underneath in case that he decided to close his wings too soon or steered off in the wrong direction. However, within a moment, his terror melted as he glided, and the look on his face when he realizes that he was doing it on his own… it brought pride to my heart. To see his fear evaporated to that of wonder through the air is one of those things that will forever be part of my memory.

By the time we glided a few times and landed before Thorax, Junior went up to him excitedly, “Dad! Dad! Did you see that?”

He patted his head, “I sure did.”

“Can you teach me to fly too Uncle Spike?” a chorus of hatchling voices called out. By now, even Atalanta and Sekto came, asking for me to instruct them.

“How did you get Junior to fly?” Sekto asked.

“It’s not quite flying. Just… falling in slow motion.”

“Oh! Can I go next?” Atalanta asked, hopping in place. “That looked like so much fun.”

“Come on you guys,” Thorax told them. “We have to keep moving if we want to get to our campsite before dinner time.”

“Tell you all what,” said I. “Once we get to where we’re staying for the night, I’ll show you all how to do what Junior did. And I’ll throw in a game once you’ve all managed to glide.”

This caught Atalanta and Velvet’s attention. “What kind of game?”

“An old Pegasus flying game. But for now, let’s follow everyone to the campsite because it’ll be the perfect place to show you.”

---

There is a certain place in the forest near the hive in which would make one feel like they’ve stepped through an old oil painting. Not only are there trees everywhere, but in this clearing, there are boulders to climb on, a cool stream to swim in, and soft grass to lay on. It is a place where on a clear night you can see the stars in every direction with no hint of light pollution anywhere. To the children, this quiet place was a paradise as there are places to climb, trees to play hide and seek and once a good size fire is going, the perfect setting to tell stories in.

It did take a while to teach the kids after jumping off from boulders, but once they’ve learned how to glide, I’ve shown them how to play a game that was part tag, part parkour. Once they were able to glide, they’ve managed to hop from rock to branch trying to tag the other. I and the other Changelings kept an eye on them as the climbed and flown over from one tree to the next.

“You’re it!” Sekto yelled as he touched Atalanta’s white chitin.

The other children instantly scattered now that it was her turn to tag someone else. We watched as she glided from branch to branch, chasing after her brothers and sisters. Then suddenly, she disappeared in the foliage, much to our and her sibling’s confusion.

“Huh?” Scheherazade asked aloud, “Where did she go?”

Lavender’s eyes widened, “She transformed into the threes! Quick! To the boulders!”

The four of them flew over to the boulders in which they were back to back in a tight circle, looking in every direction.

As this was happening, Thorax’s brother sat himself down next to us. “So what’s going on?”

“They’re playing ultimate tag,” I explained to Pharynx. “Atalanta’s disappeared and they’re all on the lookout for her.”

“Oh this I got to see,” he said as we watched. For a tense moment, the four of them looked at every direction, but no sign of their sister. None of us were certain what this child was going to do. Then out like a fully wound jack-in-the-box, she suddenly appeared right above, landing on them.

“Tag!” she called out, “You’re all it!”

“Clever girl,” Pharynx nodded, seemingly impressed.

“I don’t wanna play anymore,” Sekto crawled off the rock. “No one said that you can transform.”

“He’s sort of right,” I got up, walking over to the boulder. “That was a shifty move, Atalanta.”

“What? You didn’t say anything that we couldn’t.”

After picking her up, I held her up to eye level. “I believe that right there is the definition of shifty. You didn’t see any of your brothers or sisters transform, did you?”

“W-Well… no.”

“You need to learn that if you’re going to play, you have to do so where it’s fair for everyone to give them the opportunity to win. Sure, I didn’t say that you couldn’t transform, but it’s not good sportslingship to give yourself an unfair advantage. Understand?”

She sighed, “Yes Uncle Spike.”

I looked down at the rest of the siblings. “Do you guys still wanna play?”

“Nah,” Junior said hopping down. “I’d wanna draw.”

“There’s paper and crayons in your bag.” After he left, the other girls said that they weren’t feeling tired, so I let the three of them returned to their game. As I turned around, I remembered seeing Thorax putting a hoof around Sekto that looked like he was on the edge of crying. Going up to them, I heard him comforting him.

“Hey look,” said he. “There’s nothing damaged. Your chitin is still in one piece.”

“But it still hurts, dad.”

“Where does it hurt?” Sekto lifted up a hoof. “Go dip it into the stream. It’ll help numb the pain.” After kissing his forehead, the kid did as he was told and let his hoof hang over into the water.

Hours later, Thorax, Lavender and I sat by the fire pit, simply basking in its warmth (and beauty for the Changelings) when Junior came up to us with a small stack of papers in his aura. “Dad, Mom, Uncle Spike, can I show you my drawings?”

“Sweetie,” his mother kissed his forehead. “You know that we always look forward to what you’ve come up with.”

“How many did you make?” I asked.

After flipping through the pages, he told us, “I’ve made six.”

“Well let’s see them,” Thorax smiled warmly.

Junior flipped them over and upright to first us a drawing in crayon and color pencils of me and him with our wings spread open. “This is me and Uncle Spike flying earlier today.” Then to the next one where it showed a child’s caricature of Princess Twilight with dozens of colored lines around her. I asked her what those meant to be, “Those are Auntie Twilight’s books, in which she has a lot.”

“Technically you’re not wrong,” I muttered jokingly.

He then showed the next picture, “This one is of my imaginary friend.”

“Ooh, may we see it up close?” Thorax asked and he nodded, letting the picture be enveloped in his aura to draw it closer to us. It showed a smiling sphinx that had orange and purple poke-a-dots. “Does this have a name?”

“Bob,” he said gleefully. “I couldn’t think of any other good name for a… what is it called?”

“A sphinx Junior,” Lavender patted his head. “Are there any more?”

He nodded as he held up the next picture. “This one is of the mountains outside of our window.”

Admittingly, that drawing was pretty good. The way of the lines and colors blended that, while still crude, was pretty nice looking for a six-year-old. “I like that one,” I told him.

And then he showed us the final picture in which the three of us blushed at. It showed me and Thorax in bed… in a rather… compromising position. “This one’s called Dad and Uncle Spike wrestling.”

I think you could forgive me if I was too mortified to do anything. Luckily, Lavender snatched up the picture in her aura and, as nicely as she could say. “Uh, Junior, sweetheart? You didn’t go into Daddy’s or Uncle Spike’s room when you’re not supposed to, have you?”

He tilted his head, “What do you mean? That picture was supposed to be in your room with the door cracked a little.”

After giving her husband an angry glare, she excused herself and took Junior off to the side. Safe to say, Thorax could sense how I was dying of embarrassment as I covered my face with my claws.

“Why do I have the feeling that we’re gonna need to get him a really good therapist down the line?” I muttered.

“I guess that’s my fault,” he told me as he patted my back. “I could have sworn that I’ve closed and locked the door…”

“Yeah but… he saw us.”

“I know that now…” he exhaled. “I’m just as humiliated as you are. And I really hope he didn’t see too much of something that he shouldn’t know yet.” The king rubbed my back, between my wings. “Besides, I think that must be it. After all, he just said ‘wrestling’ so maybe we’re jumping to conclusions of what he thought he saw.”

I only groaned.

“Are you okay Uncle Spike?” we both looked up and twisted our heads around until we found Velvet there. “You don’t feel too good. Like you’re in trouble or something.”

I picked her yellow self up into my claws. “It’s nothing Velvet.”

“Then why do you feel bad?”

With a snort from my nose, I answered, “Let’s just say that I did something that we shouldn’t have, but accidentally did.”

“Oh,” she looked over to where her mother and brother were. “Is Junior in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Thorax said. “Frankly I hope that he isn’t.”

“What did he do?”

“He might have seen something that he wasn’t supposed to.”

Before she could ask another question, Lavender and Junior returned, and after shooing them away, she told us. “That was a close one. He told me that he was walking by on the way to lunch back in December when he noticed the crack in the door and only got a quick glance at you two before he had to hurry off.” She folded her forelegs, “Still, that was rather careless on your parts. And in my room too without my permission.”

“I could have sworn that door was closed,” Thorax responded. “And besides, Spike was in rut at the time and he needed to be…” he cleared his throat. “Taken care of. Besides, we couldn’t make it to our rooms at the time because doing so would have embarrassed Spike even further.”

She faced hoof, but after breathing deeply, she said, “Okay, fair enough. But you guys need to be careful. You don’t want anyone uninvited to burst in or get caught in the act. You know what, let’s just drop it for tonight. It’s getting close to their bedtime anyway.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” he turned to the other Changelings. “Would you guys bring out the marshmallows with sticks? And go get the kids, it’s story time for them.”

After some calming down on our parts and the kids (along with the other changelings), we started to roast marshmallows, giving us enough time to let the embarrassment flow away. Then a couple of burned gelatinous treats later, I called Scheherazade over and I had her sit on my knee. “Are you guys ready for a story tonight?”

“Is it a new one?” the youngest asked and I nodded.

“It is indeed. Tonight, I’m going to start on a tale that has a bunch of goodies in them. However, if I’m going to get to those stories, there is one important one that all of you must know because nothing after it would make it any more incredible.” I looked up at the stars and began my story to them. “Once upon a time, in the desert lands of Saddle Arabia where there was a lush kingdom that was like an island in an ocean of sand. In this kingdom, there ruled a king or Sultan in which he had a wife whom he loved more than anything in the world. He spoiled her with riches, silks and constructed beautiful gardens.

“However, it wasn’t until after many years that he found that she was deceiving him. And that her behavior was so bad, that in a rage, he felt that he had to put her to death. From that day on, grief controlled him, his mind nearly gave way to the point where he was convinced that deep down, all mares were as wicked as his wife. That fewer the world contained them, the better. Since then, he would marry a new wife, only to have them executed the following morning. The Kingdom was stricken with terror. So much so, that laughter and joy had left its subjects, fearing that their daughters might be next.

“As it so happened, the Sultan’s adviser had a daughter of his own. Whose name,” I smiled as I looked down at the purple filly. “Was Scheherazade.”

Her eyes widened. “Hey, that’s my name!”

I nodded, “Yes. And you were named after the mare in this story because of what she had done.”

“What did she do?”

“Well, the mare was brought up in reading every book she could get her hooves on. From fairy tales of faraway lands to journals of sailors that journeyed out at sea. No book was too dull to catch her interest, from medicine to history, she became wise as she was beautiful. Now when the Sultan carried out this terrible deed, she knew that she had to do something to save the Kingdom.

“So, after some intense arguing with her father, she was able to convince him to allow her to marry the mad king. While the previous mares had tried to save themselves through their beauty and charm alone, Scheherazade had a different plan that she hoped would not only save her from execution but the kingdom as well.

“The night after she married the Sultan, she found that her new husband was sleepless, and didn’t trust her at first. To this, she instantly sprung her plan into action. ‘O great king of the sands,’ she began. ‘My father has said of me, that I have told him many wonderful and fantastic tales that are extraordinary. I pray that before the sun rises, would you grant me to have you as my final audience to tell such stories?’

“Hearing this, the sultan was intrigued, none of the mares have ever asked such an unusual request before. ‘And what story,’ said he, ‘That your father, my adviser would consider being wonderful and fantastic?’

“Thus, she began: ‘I have heard, O fortunate king, that there was once a stallion who lived in the city of Saddlebag, who had lost everything from his riches to his respectability. He was homeless to the point that he lived underneath an old rug in a courtyard. One night, this poor fellow was showed a dream in which that he will be able to regain his wealth in a garden in Clydrio. Given the hope that his luck may change, he traveled there for seven days to the city.

“‘However, as he got there at noon, he discovered that no one and nothing was around. He didn’t find any gold nor jewels, instead, he was arrested by the local guard because he someone thought he was a suspicious fellow and had him thrown in jail. Confused and saddened, the stallion wondered in his cell if the dream he had was all for nothing. The head guard came in, demanding what he was doing in the gardens. Feeling that he had nothing to lose, he told the story to him. When he finished, he found that the head guard was laughing and asked him why.

“‘‘Forgive me,’ said he. ‘But it’s just that I find this rather funny. Because about a week ago, I had a crazy dream that I would find riches in Saddlebag!’ To the stallion’s astonishment, he described in exact detail of the very courtyard in which he had lived in. Seeing that this was nothing but the adventure of a fool, the head guard released him, but the stallion now raced back to Saddlebag to see what was there.’”

I instantly stopped, all eyes from the children, and those who had listened to the story were waiting for me. “And?” Scheherazade in my arms asked. “What happened then?”

My grin was on display as I explained, “That is exactly what the Sultan asked when Scheherazade stopped her tale. She pointed out that the sun had risen, and she was too tired to continue with the story. The king, who was so interested in this new tale, faced a problem. He couldn’t execute her because if he did, he’ll never know how it ends. So, he bid his new wife go to sleep and allowed her to continue tomorrow night.”

I picked the youngest up, “And it’s about time that the rest of you should do the same as well.”

“Awe,” they whinnied. “Come on Uncle Spike,” Velvet said. “How does the story end?”

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow night. But for now, get to your tents, it’s time to go to sleep.”

Although there was some resistance, they ended up doing so.

When it was just me, Thorax and Lavender (along with a few guards on watch,) the King began. “How do you do that?”

I tilted my head, “Do what?”

“Telling a story without a book like that?” he asked. “And that story too, not the Scheherazade one, but the whole stallion going to Clydrio thing. Was that something from the original nights?”

“Not really, I kinda made it up.”

“Could have fooled me,” Lavender said. “That actually sounded like a story that would come out for it. Do you write stories yourself?”

“Well, I dabble here and there,” I shrugged. “Mostly to write friendship letters or checklists for Twilight when I was growing up. But then there were the comics and the Ogres & Oubliettes, my imagination had opened up a bit. Still, I wouldn’t consider myself as an author.”

“Maybe you should,” Thorax pointed out. “One of these days, you should write a story in which we’ll help get it published.”

“I don’t think I’ll get recognition for it.”

“But you’d never know. There might be creatures from across the globe who would be interested in what stories you wanted to tale. I think you’re a natural storyteller Spike.”

I knocked a stone into the fire. “I doubt it,” I said, watching the flames dance in the pit.

Comments

[The Bricklayer]

D'awww... It's nice to see Spike growing into his role as a father, even if he does have his doubts.

[musoperatica]

What a cute chapter & queue the cliché of a kid seeing their parents or parental figure have sex but having the act being drawn out! also love foreshadowing of spike being a writer...since we know he's writing his life story down:)