Ember was aware that eye contact was supposed to be a battle of willpower. If you didn’t look a dragon straight in their eyes, you couldn’t get a gauge of what they were thinking, what they really meant they were saying, what their goals were. And that was fine: Without a little day-to-day deception, it’d be impossible to go for a single afternoon without being paralyzed with paranoia and self-disgust, so taking it for granted and moving on wasn’t so much acceptable as it was necessary.
Looking someone in the eyes threw all of that out a window. It was a challenge: I’m seeing you for exactly who you are. I know everything about you, and now your thoughts are mine. You’re my little thought-servant now, and you’re going to do exactly what I want. And if a dragon stared back, didn’t buckle instantly, it was a counter-challenge: Get out of my head. I’m stronger than you are. I know you better than you know me, and you should be grovelling at my feet for having the gall to make eye contact with me.
Older dragons did it to younger dragons all the time, to get them to fall back in line and listen to their elders. Bosses did it to their slaves and underlings, to get them back to doing their jobs and keep them from challenging authority. Two dragons on seemingly equal footing would need to figure out which one outranked the other. So it went.
But Spike didn’t get that. Wasn’t getting that. And the more Ember looked him in the eyes, the more he returned her stare with a blank and uncomprehending gaze. The longer their silent eye contact persisted, the more Ember was sure that he didn’t even know what eye contact was supposed to mean. He didn’t know the rules. The ponies had basically castrated him, and the thought of Spike not being able to-
Never mind. It didn’t matter.
Ember crossed her arms. “You’re a week early.”
“Sorry about that.” Spike broke eye contact to stare vacantly at the ground and idly kicked a pebble. “I got my schedule mixed up, you know? Like I did that one time with you and Thorax.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ember rolled her eyes. “I hope you weren’t expecting to make any friends by showing up early, though.”
Spike continued to stare at the ground, claws latticed in front of his waist as he hung his arms half-limply in front of him. “I mean, isn’t part of being a diplomat making friends?”
“Being a diplomat is about having a job and doing it, just like any other job. Speaking of - Bookworm? Guard?” Ember snapped, turning her head back towards her civil servant and uncivil guardsdragon. “The sword?”
Murmuring apologies, Bookworm and the guard hoisted up the still-dribbling sword and began to haul it back inside the cave. With an irritated snort and an impatient flick of her tail, Ember fixed her attentions back on Spike. “Typical, right? It’s so easy for dragons to forget they’re doing their jobs unless they’re being constantly reminded. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor by reminding you.”
“If you say so,” Spike responded with barely any inflection. Ember reminded herself that slapping a diplomat for sounding pathetic was still a faux pas, and that if anyone needed to set a good example it had to be her.
“Look, Spike - if you wanted this to be a vacation, you should have said this was a vacation. You’re supposed to be here to help figure out a trade agreement between Equestria and the Dragon King-Empire. I shouldn’t really even be talking business with you, since we already know each other, but whatever. I’ll make laws about that later. Equestria has laws about that stuff too, right?”
Spike gulped. “Not really?”
“Oh for the love of - Okay, I give up. We’ll talk official business later, but I’m hungry. You’re probably hungry. Want to have breakfast?”
Spike blinked, then broke out into a smile - small, somewhat uncertain, but genuine enough for the moment. “Okay.”
**********************************************
The crystal practically dripped with flavour. As Ember squeezed her claws against its turquoise surface, she imagined what it might have done if it was a juicier bit of food, the sort of thing ponies ate. It wouldn’t have surprised her if that juicy food would have literally exploded in her grasp, literally dribbled its liquids all over her-
Ember shook her head, cleared the thought from her head and took a bite. It was delicious: sweet, but full-bodied and firm, with a satisfying crunch that echoed down the dining table. Ember chomped down on it again, then again, and it was only when she was halfway done with the crystal that she bothered to look back up at Spike. “Hey, how’s the meal?”
“Really good!” Spike replied, grinning as he grabbed at another crystal from a silvered platter. “They kind of taste like candy!”
“Dragonlands cuisine.” Ember smirked and took another bite. “Bet you can’t say that they have crystals half this good in Equestria.”
“I mean, ponies aren’t supposed to eat that sort of stuff. They build things with it. So if you built stuff with hay...”
“That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve heard anyone say all day. How do you expect a cave made of hay to hold up under its own weight? Even for a dragon your size? And I mean, for a dragon Reginald’s size and crankiness-”
“Who’s Reginald?”
“Imagine perpetually having the world’s biggest burr up your butt. Now imagine the burr is green, dragon-shaped, and an insufferable twat. That’s Reginald.” Ember took another hungry bite of her crystal, but barely tasted it. “I might have to deal with him today. Dragon business.”
“Right! I should have figured that you might be busy. I know i shouldn’t have come early and…”
Spike lapsed into silence. Grunting in annoyance, Ember slapped the remnant of her crystal down on the table and stood up. “Look, Spike-”
“Spike?”
Ember and Spike turned to see Bookworm, standing to the side of the table, pencil and paper clenched loosely in one fist.
“Uh.” Spike replied. “You look kind of familiar, but-”
“You were the little dude!” Bookworm replied with a grin that almost split his face in half. “The baby dragon that wanted to hang out with us one year! You did the belly flop, remember?”
Spike blinked, then gasped - and his eyes lit up in happy recognition. “Yeah! You were one of the teenage dragons I wanted to hang out with! You and...there was the pale one, and the kind of…” Spike trailed off, gesturing as if highlighting a very large and invisible stomach.
Bookworm sniggered. “Did he have brown scales?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Clump that the thing you remembered about him was that he’s fat. And look.” Bookworm continued, holding up a talon to shush Spike’s incoming apology, “If I don’t tell him he’s a lardball at least once a day, he’d think there was something wrong with me, okay? It’d be like him not telling me to cut off my fringe.”
“I guess that’s just another dragon thing I don’t know about, huh?” Spike replied, looking a bit sheepish.
“You’re worrying too much, little dude. You were one of us, remember? Like, except for the thing with the phoenix eggs aside, everything’s cool. And that was only bogus because your pony friends stepped in, but I’m guessing you didn’t make them do that, right?”
“I-I didn’t even know they were there! Really!”
“Like I said, then. One of us.” Bookworm yawned, stretching his arms in an almost exaggerated display of relaxation. “And hey, there’s stuff I’d rather do than smash a bunch of eggs. Doing stuff with friends is always fun, but I honestly wouldn’t have gone out and done it if…”
Bookworm froze mid-stretch. The silence that followed was palpable, filling Ember’s dining quarters with overbearing silence. Irritating silence.
“Right.” Ember snapped, setting her crystal down. “Bookworm, I’m going to need a list of exportable commodities that the Dragonlands can provide. Raw materials, manufactured goods, labor, whatever - as long as you think it could turn a profit for us, I want it written down. Do you want me to send out an expedition for more writing supplies?”
“No, your majesty.” Bookworm replied, before turning on his heel and scrabbling out of the room, slightly faster than was necessary. Ember waited until he had left the room before groaning and rubbing her eyes.
“Um…” Spike started.
“You don’t need to tell me. Of course he was one of Garble’s friends. I’m an idiot, okay?” Ember snorted in aggravation, twin puffs of smoke drifting out of her nostrils as she grabbed her crystal again. “Look, did you have any diplomatic stuff you needed to do today?”
“I...don’t know?” Spike replied with a shrug.
“Good. Your new business is to go help Bookworm, okay? Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. And if you can figure out what’s going on in his brain - while being subtle about it, okay? - then so much the better. The last thing I need at the moment is another dragon trying to get me killed.” Ember stood up, popped the last of her breakfast in her mouth and stalked out of the room.
Disappointingly, it tasted sour.
And a large part of that job is making friends, so...
The pressure of ruling is definitely getting to Ember, far more than it needs to. At least, that's how it seems to a non-dragon. I just hope that she remembers Spike's diplomatic immunity should the dragons love him more than they fear her...
Love it. Keep it up!