Bloodstone

by Drag Orion

Legend of the First Dragon Lord

“So, where are you planning on staying?” wondered Ember as she and Spike descended from the throne to go for a walk now that they were done addressing their fellow dragons.

“Staying?” asked Spike scratching his head. “I hadn’t really thought of that. I figured I’d be staying with Smoulder, but she went to catch up with her friends so now I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Well, what do you usually do?” she asked him.

“If I’m off in Canterlot I’d typically be in a castle or in a hotel, if I was traveling elsewhere in Equestria, but I don’t think the Dragonlands have anything like that,” observed Spike looking around, but there was nothing but rocks and mountains as far as the eye could see.

“I guess you better hurry and find a cave to bunker down in for the night,” she suggested. “The Dragonlands might be hot during the day, but at night it gets pretty cold, frigid even.”

“I’m shivering just thinking about it,” Spike spoke with chattering teeth as he rubbed his claws over his body to try and warm up.

“That’s not even the worst of it,” she added. “At night is when all the predators come out looking for something to eat, particularly soft, plump, little dragons.”

“I’ve already had to deal with almost being eaten by a roc once,” worried Spike. “I’d rather not go through that again.”

“Then you’d better hurry,” she suggested. “Caves are first come, first serve after all. Best of luck.”

“No! Please!” begged Spike as he latched onto her tail. “Take me with you!”

“Relax, Spike,” chuckled Ember. “I was just joking. Just a little dragon humor is all.”

“Just a joke,” replied Spike as he sighed with relief. “Then that stuff about it being cold and predators isn’t true?”

“No, all that is true,” she explained. “But I’d never up and abandon you to deal with all that.”

“That’s a relief,” smiled Spike as he let go of her tail and got back up.

“It’ll be nice having a guest over for dinner too,” she added. “Usually, it’s just me and my father.”

“You live with Torch?” gulped Spike nervously. “And he won’t mind me coming over?”

“So long as you behave yourself you should survive,” she answered.

“Uh, more dragon humor?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“Not this time,” she replied and made Spike wonder if he’d be better off spending the night outside.

“Excuse me,” spoke a tiny voice as he struggled through the crowd of dragons. “Pardon me. Can you move your tail, please. Thank you.” Maneuvering his way forward, it was a young, yellow dragon, still lacking his wings. He had white scales on his belly and orange webbed-like spikes on his head that ran down to the base of his tail that ended in a spad shape at the tip. His eyes were red and he had two fangs poking down out of his maw.

“Well, maybe I should give him a present,” suggested Spike as he dove into his backpack for something. “Uh, does he read Power Pony comics?”

“I’m not sure what those are, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” replied Ember. “Just relax. I’m sure you can survive one dinner with my father.”

“I hope you’re right,” he replied returning his comics to his backpack and closed it up. As he did, he turned his head, allowing the young dragon to get a clear view of his face.

“Green spikes, purple scales, green eyes,” noted the little dragon. “That’s gotta be him!” Rushing forward excitedly, he called out to Spike. “Spike! Spike! Hey, Spike!”

“Huh?” wondered Spike seeing the dragon coming at him fast. “What in the-” He didn’t even have time to react before the dragon pounced on top of him and knocked him to the ground.

“Spike!” the young dragon cheered from atop Spike’s gut. “Is it really you, Spike?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he groaned Spike, still confused at what was going on. “But, who are you?”

“My name’s Spark,” he answered excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

“You have?” Spike stated with surprise. As the young dragon got off of him, he got back on his feet. “First time another dragon has ever wanted to meet me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he smiled. “You’ve done so many incredible things. Like you won the Gauntlet of Fire and saved the Crystal Empire on multiple occasions. You even defeated an army of giant mutant cockatrices while riding upon an alicorn princess and wielding a magical golden trident.”

“I guess I have done a lot of stuff, but I’m pretty sure that last one was made up,” replied Spike blushing at all the praise he was getting.

“Looks like someone has a fan,” chuckled Ember as she gave Spike a nudge.

“I wanna be just like you,” he continued. “Cause even though you are small, you have still done so many great things.”

“Well, I’m glad I could be an inspiration to you,” smiled Spike.

“A little one,” teased Ember.

“Hey! I’m still growing!” snapped Spike with some irritation in his voice.

“Heheh, you’re funny too,” giggled Spark. He then took out a rock and offered it over to Spike. “Do you think you can give me an autograph?”

“Uh, sure,” nodded Spike as he turned back to Spark and took the stone in hand. With a claw extended, he scratched out his name as best he could into it. Looking it over, it was a far cry cruder than his penmanship with a quill and scroll paper. Each letter was capitalized and the ‘S’ was made with three jagged lines, making it look like an askew backwards ‘Z.’ The other letters didn’t look much better, but at least it looked like his name. “Here you go. I’m always happy to help out my fans.”

“Really?” asked Spark, his ears perking up upon hearing that. “Then… do you think you can take me to the festival tomorrow?”

“Take you to the festival?” wondered Spike. “Why do you need me to do that?”

“I don’t have anyone to take me tomorrow,” he explained. “My dad doesn’t want to go tomorrow and I can’t go by myself.”

“That’s not right,” stated Spike. “What kind of lousy, no-good, father would refuse to bring you back to the festival when all the fun and games are going to happen?”

“Spark! Spark!” roared a voice that not only overpowered the mingling of all the dragons in the vacinity, but silenced them as well. There was a sense of dread that came with it too that tied knots in Spike’s stomach.

“Him,” answered Spark, his voice the quietest it has been since he started talking. He became completely silent after that, his body unable to keep from trembling. A look of fear filled his eyes and he hid behind Spike for protection (another first for the small, purple dragon who was usually the one being protected).

Turning to where the voice was coming from, Ember and Spike saw a dragon that stood over a foot taller than most of the teen dragons. The glare in his orange eyes was like a laser that could focus all his explosive rage at a single point. His scales were a deep crimson with stone gray scales on his belly and matching three pointed spikes on going from the top of his head down to the end of his tail that more resembled a mace. To say this dragon valued raw strength was an understatement. Every muscle on his body appeared exercised and tones to perfection.

All across his body was a large number of scars, many appeared to be from quite deep wounds. From what Spike could see, some scars ran parallel to others and were likely from razor sharp claws. There were longer, thinner scars that appeared to have been caused by a bladed weapon, and most notably of all were the scars like puncture wounds in his body. While the smaller ones were likely caused by spears that managed to pierce his hide, the larger ones were undoubtedly inflicted by a powerful focused blast of unicorn magic. The scales around the later wounds had even melted and fused together, further evidence to this assumption.

“Oh, that’s daddy,” whimpered Spike as he prayed that this dragon didn’t have as powerful hearing as Torch did.

“Where are you, Spark?” he called out again, his voice sounding more like a beastly roar to the dragons around him and caused them to scatter in fright. “Answer me!” His irritation only grew the more he searched. That anger made him flex his muscles and only made him appear larger and all the more intimidating.

“Of course it had to be him,” groaned Ember, the only dragon around who wasn’t shaking in their scales at the sight of the hulking dragon.

“You know him?” questioned Spike, his voice cracking as he could barely keep himself calm as the dragon neared them.

“His name is Crag,” she explained. “Remember how I mentioned some of the older dragons being against my decisions to change things?” Spike nodded, already certain what she was going to say. “Well, this guy speaks the loudest in every sense of the word. I doubt this needs to be said, but best steer clear of him at all costs. He is not a dragon you want to end up on his bad side.” Ember then approached Spark and knelt down beside him to rub his head. “It’ll be alright. Just answer him and apologize for running off.”

“Are you sure about this?” Spike asked her. “Shouldn’t we wait for him to cool off a little, like for a century?”

“I’ve dealt with him before,” she assured him. “Everything will be fine. Just stay quiet and avoid making eye contact with him.” Looking back at Spark, she gave him a nod with an encouraging smile to help him break free of his fear.

“D-Dad,” he spoke, his voice sounding so gentle compared to his father’s. “I’m over here.”

“Spark!” he called, turning to where he heard his son and then stomped his way over. Any dragons still between them quickly moved out of the way to clear him space to move. “You know better than to disobey me and go wandering off.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I was just going to see-”

“Going to see what?” he demanded to know when Sparks’ words trailed off into silence. Looking over, he saw Ember. “Oh, Dragon Lord Ember, I didn’t see you there. I am still not used to having such a bite-sized Dragon Lord running things around here.”

“Insulting as ever,” she replied. “Listen, you might not like how I do things around here, but I am in charge and I give the final word around here. That goes for this festival and every idea of antiquity you have.”

“And like all the Dragon Lords before you, you fail to grasp a destiny that has been set before us by our two great pillars. Generation after generation and still we turn our backs to it. At this rate, it will slip through our claws forever.”

“That is for the Dragon Lord to decide,” she reminded him. “You had your chance to become the Dragon Lord and you lost out to my father. You’re welcome to try and take the position from me. I’m sure you shouldn’t have trouble overpowering a ‘bite-sized Dragon Lord.’”

Snorting and scowling, Crag looked at Ember, so small and slender compared to him he could have snapped her like a toothpick. Spike trembled as he watched their confrontation, worried that Ember was biting off more than she could chew by antagonizing him the way she did. The same was true for all the other dragons watching in silence for what was about to transpire.

Crag stared Ember down, appearing ready to strike at any moment. Then he turned his gaze to the Bloodstone Scepter that was securely fastened against her back. Without it in hand, she couldn’t use it’s power on him. If he was fast enough, he could easily restrain her and steal away the scepter.

“Come along, Spark, we’re going home,” he spoke calmly as he talked to his son. Not hesitating so his father wouldn’t get upset again, Spark quickly ran to his side. They started to walk away, but Crag turned around again. “Dragon Lord, you can only defy destiny only for so long, but our time will come and when it does, you will have a choice to be among the victors or the defeated.” He then started to leave once more.

“You were so cool,” whispered Spike. “I was trembling just watching you.”

“He makes me nervous too,” she admitted. “But being the Dragon Lord helps out a lot.”

“But wait, what about Spark?” asked Spike as he saw him walking away with his father. “He wanted to come back to the festival tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Ember told him. “It was all I could do to resolve this peacefully. Spark understands.”

“Maybe,” replied Spike as he clenched his claws. “But I don’t.”

“Spike, what are you-” Ember tried to say, but she couldn’t stop him as he ran after Crag and Spark.

Taking a deep breath, Spike shouted, “Crag!” and ever dragon around fled further away as round two was about to start.

“Spike?” whispered Spark as he turned in awe at his hero standing firm.

“Hmm? What is it?” asked Crag, anger quick to return to his voice. Seeing the small dragon who had called to him, he stomped over, forcing Spike to have to crane his neck back to make eye contact with him.

“My name is Spike,” the tiny, purple dragon told the large, red one. Spike continued to speak calmly and clearly as he kept his gaze upon Crag’s like they were in the midst of a staring contest. “Your son came to see me. He asked me if I would take him to the festival tomorrow and I agreed to do it. So… I’ll be over to pick him up for it in the morning.”

“Spike,” thought Crag as he remained silent for a moment and looked at the dragon, standing up to him, curiously. “Purple scales… green spikes… small…” A couple minutes passed and finally, Crag spoke again. “And if I should refuse to allow him to go?”

“I wasn’t asking your permission,” Spike told him, his words getting all the other dragons ready to flee to avoid the inevitable eruption of anger from Crag he was causing.

“You sound determined to do this,” Crag said with growing tension in his voice. His muscles tightened and he lifted up his tail before letting it drop, the heavy tip landing and cracking the hard ground underneath it. “And you won’t reconsider despite this being against my wishes.”

“You have nothing to do with this,” Spike stated, standing his ground on the matter and digging his feet into it to prevent himself from turning tail like he desperately wanted to do as his heart felt ready to burst out of his chest from how fast it was thumping. “Spark wants to go, I want to take him, and nothing you can do will make me change my mind.”

“Is that so,” he smirked and knelt down as he extended and arm to Spike that was big enough to cover over his entire head with. A short distance away, Ember had been watching, her hand ready to grab the Bloodstone Scepter the instant Spike was in peril. Holding his ground, Spike looked at Crag’s claws, wondering what he intended to do. Out of all the things he considered, he did one thing Spike hadn’t even considered. He opened his hand up and offered it to Spike to shake. “Very well, you can take Spark to the festival,” he conceded.

“You’re not mad?” asked Spike as he accepted Crag’s hand, extending his own. As they shook, Crag was holding Spike’s arm past his elbow.

“More impressed than mad,” he admitted. “It isn’t every day that I see a dragon willing to stand up to me. There may be some hope for this generation of dragons if a pipsqueak like you is able to show some backbone. You’re a lot more impressive than that first born son of mine who turned out to be nothing more than a disappointing loser.”

“Uh, th-thank you,” Spike said feeling an incredible amount of relief as Crag released his arm.

“But don’t misunderstand!” he snapped. “An insignificant, puny, whelp like you having the nerve to oppose me is laughable! If things were different you wouldn’t be getting off so easy! You’d best not forget this because I won’t forget about you anytime soon, Spike!!!”

Picking up his son, Crag flapped his wings hard to quickly gain some altitude and flew off, quickly vanishing from sight. All the dragons breathed a sigh of relief that it was over and went on their way. Spike just remained frozen in such terror that it looked like it shaved years off his life.

“Remember those things I told you not to do,” Ember lectured Spike as she approached him. “Well, you did them and now you’re on his bad side. That was stupid and reckless, and just because I was here this time doesn’t mean I’ll always be around to protect you. That being said, that was probably the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen any dragon ever do. I honestly didn’t think you had it in you to go up against someone like Crag.”

“Neither did I,” Spike managed to utter before losing consciousness and collapsing, physically and mentally drained from that whole ordeal.

“It was worth it to go out and see the sky burn,” said Ax as he, Smoulder and the others returned to their hideout almost immediately after the opening ceremony came to an end.

“I bet they didn’t have anything this cool like that in Ponytown,” laughed Gorge as he returned to his gems like he never left.

“First, it’s Ponyville,” she corrected him. “And, they do have some awesome shows too. Rainbow Dash took us to a Wonderbolts performance once and then there was this time a group called ‘The Washouts’ came to perform in Ponyville.”

“Well, it sounds cool, but anything can with the right name,” commented Karma.

“Unlike your name or the thirty others you’ve had since I met you,” stated Smoulder sarcastically and got her friends laughing.

“Heh, so glad to hear your sarcasm again,” snickered Ax. “I was worried you’d come back and wanna break out into lame songs or whatever ponies do for fun.”

“They don’t break into song… too much,” Smoulder told them.

“But they were still lame, right?” mumbled Gorge spewing gems as he talked.

“Do you have to keep asking me about the school?” groaned Smoulder, irritation in her voice. “You know it’s dumb, I know it’s dumb so it’s dumb to keep asking me about it.”

“Someone’s getting hostile,” noticed Karma. “No reason to get upset with us… unless you actually liked going to the pony school.”

“I already said I didn’t,” she reminded them as she crossed her arms.

“You did, but how do we know being there hasn’t made you soft?” questioned Gorge.

“You’re one to talk, calling someone soft,” retorted the slender, orange dragon to the fat, white one.

“How about you prove it tomorrow with a little gorge surfing,” suggested Ax. “Let’s see if you can still wide the lava like you used to.”

“Fine, but you three better not have gotten soft while I was away,” she countered.

“Then it’s a challenge,” Ax declared. “And we’ll get to see just who is soft.”

“But for now, how about we have a little feast in celebration of Smoulder’s return?” suggested Karma.

“A feast,” drooled Gorge. “Sounds great. I’m starved!”

“Let’s see how our horde is doing,” said Ax as he pushed aside a rock and revealed a decent-sized pile of sparkling gemstones underneath it. “More than enough for a party.”

“Then let’s eat!” cheered Karma before the three dragons quickly started to snatch up the gems, attempting to be quicker than the others, even going to far as to push and shove one another away to get a moment to stuff their face with gems before they came back.

“Did we always use to eat like this?” wondered Smoulder as she watched their feast quickly de-evolve into a bunch of roughhousing as they wrestled one another with shards of gems in their mouths that they tried to munch while getting one another into a headlock.

Thinking back to her time at the School of Friendship, Smoulder couldn’t help thinking about her friends there and eating lunch in the cafeteria at a table big enough for six. Sandbar would have a small salad with apple slices in it. Gallus would have stocked up on as many sweets he could get his talons on. If Applejack, Twilight, or Rarity were on cafeteria duty at the time, he’d be getting a lecture on having a balanced diet and be given some fruit in place of most of his confections. If Pinke was in charge then everyone else would be getting overloaded with sugar too and end up awake half the night with insomnia.

Yona and Occellus would have some traditional Yak and Changeling cuisine respectively. Yona often had a hot bowl of Yakyakistan oatmeal, the best kind of oatmeal as Yona always claimed. She offered her friends some once and they found in incredibly thick, so much so that when they plunged their spoons into the lumpy food, they found their spoons stuck like it was quick-drying rubber cement. Even asking Starlight to help dislodge their spoons with magic proved too much even for a Unicorn of her ability. As for Occellus’s food, it varied from unusual to look at to gross things that appeared to be looking at them.

Lastly was Silverstream, who was bursting with excitement over straws, something that she didn’t have as a seapony living beneath the water. Because of that alone, she spent a lot of time drinking fruit in a semi-frozen form. It was a craze that started in a place called Sire’s Hollow and was bit by bit catching on all over the rest of Equestria, mostly with those in their age group.

Thinking of all that, Smoulder couldn’t help smile and see herself there too with a box filled with gemstones, mostly rubies, if she could help it, and even a few shards of crystal from Twilight’s castle, if she had a free period to sneak over to it and break some off, while nobody was around to see.

“We sure had some good times, even if we didn’t share lunches for one reason or another,” she thought to herself. “We had a lot of fun. Occellus would share her notes with us if we had a test to take next period. If Gallus didn’t have a study hall to do so he’d use part of the lunch period to take a nap and end up with a marker mustache courtesy of yours truly. If I did a good enough job I’d get Sandbar to laugh so hard that milk would come out of his nose and get the whole cafeteria laughing from that. Silverstream would eventually get a brain freeze from drinking her slushie too fast and act all bubbly about it. Then Yona would brag about how Yaks are the best at drinking cold things before demonstrating and getting a brain freeze herself.”

“Those truly were some good times,” smiled Smoulder as she spoke those words this time.

“What were good times?” asked Ax he paused from eating. “I thought you were hungry. If you don’t hurry, we’ll eat all the gems before you even get any.”

“They’re all mine!” roared Gorge as he attempted to belly flop onto the pile, only to be held back by Karma.

“I was just thinking of the good times I’ve had,” she answered.

“Well, now that you’re back here for good you can have lots more,” Karma told her. “Now that you’re back where you belong.”

“Is that still true?” she asked herself, but a rumble in her stomach told her it was best to eat now and worry later. She gestured like she was rolling up some sleeves and gazed upon remnants of the horde of gems. “You guys better get ready, because, here I come!” she warned them and charged forward to seize what she could of the gems.

“Please pass the salt, small one,” Torch told Spike in a tone that was more like ordering than asking.

Just as Ember had promised, she brought Spike back to the cave she shared with her father, one that was even spacious enough for him to comfortably fit in. Shortly after coming too, after facing off against Crag, Spike awoke just in time for dinner, a bowlful of gems for each. While Spike and Ember had bowls big enough to fit a few dozen decent-sized gemstones in it, Torch’s bowl was easily big enough to double as a swimming pool and was filled with several fortunes worth of precious rocks.

The humongous dragon sat at a table that was really just a large chunk of rock that was chiseled flat on top. The table’s surface was smooth and shiny. From what Spike could figure, it had been superheated till it reached a temperature to melt and remove any rough spots in it. As a result, it was a perfect-sized table for the former Dragon Lord and other creatures roughly his size. To Spike, Ember, and anyone else far smaller than Torch, it was like a mile long hike to go from one end to the other, a fact that came to his mind when Torch made his request.

“Salt’s coming right up,” the small, purple dragon said as he approached it and saw the glass bottle was larger than he was and filled with enough salt for all of Ponyville to use. Wrapping his arms around the large seasoning holder as best as he could, Spike managed to heft it off the ground, finding it not as heavy as it appeared, but certainly proved troublesome to carry due to its sheer size.

Carefully moving forward, one step at a time, Spike carried it over to Torch, stopping once he managed to get it in reach of the large dragon’s mitts. Torch was able to easily pick it up from the table with just two claws and turn it on its side. With a few light shakes, he sprinkled some salt out of it and onto his bowl of gems. He then put the salt back down, done with it even quicker than the time and effort it took Spike to bring it over.

“Thank you,” he told his cave guest.

“You’re welcome,” answered Spike as he rubbed his sore arms.

“Now, can you please pass me the pepper?” the large dragon requested.

“Pepper?” groaned Spike seeing the equally large glass shaker all the day at the far end of the table. Torch narrowed his eyes as he looked upon Spike, sending a chill through his scales and down his spine. “P-Pepper’s coming right up!”

“How’s your dinner?” asked Ember as she watched Spike lift up the pepper and hobble it over to her father.

“I’ll tell you when I get a chance to sit down and eat,” he replied as he could feel his arms going numb from all the heavy lifting he was doing.

“Thank you,” Torch told him once more and Spike hastily hurried back towards Ember before he was asked to fetch anything else. He sat down and looked at the generous pile of gemstones he had been provided. Picking one up a green one, he chomped down on it, breaking a piece off and munched it up.

“How’s it taste?” she asked him.

“Pretty good,” he answered. “Might need a pinch of salt and pepper.”

“Heh, well, you can always ask my father to pass it back to you,” she told him.

Spike turned to look at Torch and watched him munch up enough gems in one mouthful that could have fed him for a whole week. “It’s fine,” replied Spike, not wishing to get in the middle of a larger dragon and his meal. “I’ll manage.”

“It’ll be a busy day tomorrow with everything going on for the festival tomorrow,” commented Ember. “We might not have a lot of time to talk and I’m sure Twilight has a lot of questions she wants you to ask.”

“Well, I’m plenty curious to learn more about dragon culture too,” he told her.

“Now’s the perfect time to find out,” she smiled. “So, ask away.”

“I guess I’ll start from the top,” he replied as he reached into his backpack and took out a length of scroll paper that was still very long in spite of cutting it down during packing. “Who was the first Dragon Lord and what did he do?”

“Can’t get more basic than that,” she commented and paused to eat some of the sapphires on her plate. “Every dragon grows up hearing the story of the first Dragon Lord, Critias, but I suppose ponies wouldn’t be privy to the tale since this goes way, way back in Equestria’s history. Back before… well, before it was even called ‘Equestria.’” Hearing this, Spike had a quill in hand along with an ink pot and started to take notes. “I can’t say much how other creatures viewed the territories at the time, but for the dragons, the Dragonlands were constantly shifting as we fought one another tooth and nail for whatever we could. Day after day, the sky was blackened with smoke. The fierce roars of dragons deafened all other noise and the land was scorched and reduced to nothing but rocks and ash.”

“It sounds like dragons were even more violent and fierce than they are now,” shivered Spike at Ember’s tale.

“Naturally,” she continued. “We had no law or order. Dragons were only truly loyal to their families and the only thing they valued beyond the gems they guarded was strength. Those with great strength were able to control larger territories while the smaller, weaker dragons were lucky to find a tucked away cave to live in and carve out a meager existence. And so it was that day after day the dragons fought, their wrath destroying the very lands they coveted. However, one would probably wonder why these battles only took place in the Dragonlands while the rest of Equestria was spared?”

“That is a good question,” agreed Spike, moving closer as he was quickly captivated by the story. “Was it because of Celestia and Luna?”

“Nope, this took place way back even before them,” she explained. “I don’t even think there were ponies back then.” Hearing this only intrigued Spike more, so Ember continued her tale. “While it was a constant struggle to be on top in the Dragonlands, none of the dragons were attempting to strive for the absolute strongest. That position was held solely by the oldest of all the dragons at the time. He was one that many considered their king even if it was never his official title. His body was plated in golden scales from head to toe and his eyes were blue as the ocean and deeper than it. His horns were massive that he could pierce holes straight through mountains and a flap of his wings could send roaring winds clear across the land and clear away a cloudy day effortlessly.”

“He could do all that?” gasped Spike in disbelief. “I know dragons can be big and powerful, but could a dragon really do all that?”

“This one could,” Ember nodded. “He wasn’t just big, but Godly in size. Even compared to my father, he was massive in proportions. With his body sprawled out, he could rest completely along the range of mountains that made up the boundary of the Dragonlands from mozzle to the end of his tail. From his vantage point, he could keep an eye on the whole of the Dragonlands and guard his own territory, all that would become Equestria. This was the dragon, Critias.”

“So, for a time all of Equestria was under the control of a single dragon?” questioned Spike as he stopped writing to ask Ember.

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” she commented. “Though, he never took his watchful gaze off of the Dragonlands to ensure other dragons did not slip past him. Because of that, all the creatures living there at the time probably had no idea of what was transpiring in the Dragon Lands and, as a result, it became a piece of history only recorded by us.”

“Twilight is certainly going to freak out when she hears about this,” Spike chuckled. “She’ll probably try to amend every history book in Equestria.” He then sighed and rolled his eyes the more he thought about that. “Ugh, that’s gonna mean a lot of work for me as well.”

“Well, to save you from having to amend it more than once, how about I make sure you get it all written down?” the Dragon Lord suggested. “Now, where was I? Oh, right. Critias certainly didn’t have trouble with protecting his territory. No dragon could even close to his might to ever dare challenge him to a battle. No alliance of any number could have made a difference either. So, for a countless decades, he remained on guard of his territory without so much as a single attempt to fight him for it. However, there was an irony to it.”

“Ironic?” repeated Spike. “How was it ironic?”

“That despite being so big and powerful,” she told him with a smile. “He was more gentle than any other dragon there. Despite having the ability to effortlessly destroy the entire continent on a whim, he was incredible cautious to avoid harming anything. The reason he remained on the border of the Dragonlands was that he feared he would accidentally crush something underfoot or sneeze and accidentally turn a whole forest into ashes. So, for eons, he remained practically motionless upon the range of mountains, unable to do much besides watch his fellow dragons battle against one another and count the vast fortune of gems he had obtained in his lifetime. In truth, it was a sad and lonely existence. At the very least, other dragons had the pleasure of company from their family and, while never a pleasant meeting, words were exchanged as they engaged in battle with other dragons to take land or defend their own. Critias, on the other claw, had to other living relatives. His frightening size also scared away any chance he had at meeting a dragoness to have offspring. For the vast majority of his life, he was all alone, with but a single exception. There was one dragon who did know that Critias was a softie deep down and was the closest thing he had to a friend. His name was Brutus.”

“Did you kick the bucket yet, old timer?” asked a dragon almost half the size of a mountain and clad in silver scales. His eyes were yellow and he had a set of horns like corkscrews upon his temple. Like the many other dragons, the constant fighting left his body covered over in scars from claws slicing through his scaley hide and leaving tears in his wings.

“Hmm? Someone here or am I hearing things again?” wondered Critias as he stuck a claw in his ear to attempt to dislodge a massive clump of earwax.

“You aren’t hearing things,” the dragon told him, standing by his ear rather than his face. “It’s just me, Brutus.”

“Oh, well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” smiled the huge dragon lifting his head up and turning it to look at him. “I believe this is the third time in one week. To what do I owe the pleasure of such frequent visits?”

“Just trying to make sure that I’m first in line when you croak,” he explained. “The second you do, every dragon is gonna wanna take all they can.”

“Heheheh, I figured as much,” the old geezer of a dragon chuckled, the luster of his golden scales had long since faded to a dingy brownish green. He had also grown a long, pale gray beard that had started to trail down the side of the mountain his head rested upon, nearly reaching to the base of it. “Not that I mind and eager gogetter, just don’t get any ideas about helping yourself while there’s still some life in these old bones of mine.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he promised. “Unlike most other dragons, I don’t just rush in to fight whenever the urge hits me. I bide my time till my opportunity comes. It’s how I became top dragon around here. Well, not counting present company, of course.”

“You might as well consider yourself the top dragon,” Critias conceded. “You have done more to earn what you have obtained than I for mine. Needless to say, when I finally do die, you will likely be the one who would eventually come out on top to rule over the majority of my land too. But I’m afraid that the ensuing chaos that will come as every dragon fights over my territory will just cause it to become as scorched and charred as the Dragonlands are. Quite a waste, don’t you think?”

“Not much that can be done about that,” Brutus pointed out. “It’s just in our nature to compete and be greedy. We’ll do anything to get what we want, even if we must burn it to a crisp in the process. However, I see your point. We’d end up with more if we didn’t destroy half of what we fight over in our battles. If we could actually cooperate, just image what we could accomplish. The whole world could be ours rather than just this ugly scar we’ve burned into the face of the planet.”

“The whole planet?” chuckled Critias. “My, aren’t you the ambitious one.”

“You think there are creatures out there that fiercer and more powerful that us dragons?” he asked. “Something living in this world that is even larger than you?”

“If there is, I’d sure be terrified to meet them,” remarked the mountainous dragon before they both shared a laugh. Before their laughter could reduce to a chuckle, Critias began to cough and wheeze, large flames flying out of his maw and short, but fierce bursts and his voice booming like thunder.

“Cr-Critias!” worried Brutus. “Are-Are you okay?”

“Such concern from one who is counting the seconds I still have left in this mortal plane,” he commented. “Sadly, I fear it is not much. A few days… A week… Perhaps a month or a year… I cannot say when the fire within me will extinguish, but I do not wish to pass on with any lingering regret. So, to you, I ask you grant two requests to this feeble, old dragon. The first, is to gather the heads of every dragon clan in the territory to meet with me as soon as possible and all at once. Tell them there is an exchange I wish to make, one that will be greatly worth their time.”

“Getting all the families together at once,” commented Brutus. “It won’t be easy, probably impossibly, but I’ll do my best to figure a way to convince them. What about your second request?”

“A much simpler one,” he answered. “Can you fashion me a scepter. It doesn’t have to be large enough for me. Big enough for young dragon to hold properly would suffice.”

“Simple, but odd,” noted the silver dragon. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“That, my friend, will be revealed in time,” explained the golden dragon. “But can I trust you to support me in this endeavor? If I am allowed a third request, it would be this.”

“Because it is coming from you, yes, I’ll support you,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” spoke Critias before closing his eyes to rest.

“Please don’t tell me you passed on, now of all times,” wondered Brutus as he knocked upon Critias’s massive head to try and awaken him.

“Huh, who what?” mumbled the massive dragon as he opened his eyes and looked around. “Oh, Brutus, what do I owe the visit this time?”

“I brought the dragons like you asked,” he answered, showing a large gathering of dragons flying in the air, many close in size to Brutus, but most relatively small in comparison. Each kept their distance from one another, a suspicious look on each as they wondered why they were all brought together and none looked happy to be surrounded by so many enemy dragons. The tension all around them was so thick that the slightest disturbance could have started a brawl between them all.

“Oh, yeah, right,” he recalled. “I did say that. You certainly did that quickly. I merely closed my eyes and you have the task already accomplished.”

“You’ve been asleep for a full week,” Brutus told him.

“Have I?” he laughed it off. “Well, what do you expect from one who is over twenty-eight thousand years old… or was it twenty-nine? The centuries blend together after you live to a ripe old age like I have.”

“We probably should skip with the small talk,” suggested Brutus. “It was a lot of work getting them all to agree to come and I doubt we can keep their attention for very long.”

“Right, right,” Critias nodded. “And you are certain this is the head member of every dragon clan?”

“Every last one,” he nodded. “Even the handful of smaller clans that hid themselves away, I tracked down. Counting us, that should be a thousand and one dragons in total. Quite an accomplishment to get them all together in merely a week’s time, if I do say so myself.”

“And not counting me, that makes the count an even one thousand,” he smiled. “That makes the math rather simple.”

“Math?” asked Brutus scratching his head. “What are you talking about?”

“In a moment,” he said. “But, first, do you have the scepter I asked for?”

“Right here,” the silver dragon showed him. It was purple and looked unfinished with each side uneven and a bit distorted. The design quite quite simple too, with just three claw-like prongs at the top. “I carved it out of some violet crystal. It’s admittedly a bit crude, but it was the best I could make on such short notice. Being the size of a toothpick didn’t make it any easier for me to make either.”

“You have done a fantastic job in setting all this up,” smiled Critias. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“Also, you didn’t specify anything about what kind of gemstone you wished to place upon the end of the scepter,” Brutus added. “But I have a feeling you had something in mind for that.”

Critias’s scaly lips curled into a smile, indicating that he did indeed, but it was something he was not ready to reveal yet. Instead, he sat up upon the mountaintops for the time in countless ages. His joints cracking as he loosened up sounded like thunder to all who could hear it. “My fellow dragons,” he announced once he was ready to speak. “I am sure you are all wondering just why it is that I have called out all here.”

His words caught their attention and, at least, for the moment, they were no longer scowling at one another. With all eyes on him, Critias moved his body over some and revealed a shining, sparkling cave almost overflowing with gems. If it had been any other dragon who had revealed the location of his horde so casually, the dragons would have, without hesitation, rushed in and swiped all the gems they could from it, but with it being the dragon king’s they continued to listen to what he had to say.

“With my life soon to reach its conclusion, I have made a decision of what I would like to do with the time I have left,” he explained. “In my horde, I possess a total of one million gems saved up over my lifetime. If I left you all to your own devices, you would undoubtedly quarrel over them the second I passed on. To prevent that, I plan to divide them up among you all now, giving each and everyone one thousands gems. However, there will be a small price each of you must pay in order to receive your share. Merely a few drops of your blood is all I request. Hardly anything at all when compared to what you will gain in return.”

The dragons were quite speechless at this, quite skeptical too. It felt too good to be true that they could be given so much for essentially nothing. Their suspicions were now turned to Critias, not sure if this was a scheme of some sort or if his old age was making him delirious.

Lifting a claw to his maw, Critias sank a fang into the fingertip. Pulling it out, he let a few drops of blood drip out and fall into his palm, creating a small puddle of deep red. “As simple as that,” he went on. “Just add your blood to my palm. I know you have all shed countless more blood for far less than this.”

This didn’t make the other dragons any less hesitant. But before any of the others could make a decision about what to do, Brutus stepped before Critias and cut his finger with his fangs to let a few of his own drops of blood pool with his old friend’s. “The old guy’s got one giant foot in the grave and you all are afraid of his dying request to prick your finger,” he taunted. “I thought dragons were supposed to be fearless, greedy, and driven by ambition, but perhaps that was just me.” His words struck a blow in the pride of the many dragons around him and several more formed a line behind him, ready to draw their own blood in the same manner. More started to join afterwards, now that things were put into motion and, soon, every last dragon had formed a long line of a thousand to give their blood and get their gems.

“Thank you, my friend,” spoke Critias. “Now, you may take your thousand gems.”

“Gladly,” he smiled and spoke quietly after that. “I’m not sure what you have in mind for all this, but I look forward to seeing.”

“Then just gather up your gems and please count them while I watch. I have to make certain that no dragon takes even one more gem than I promised them,” he stated.

“Count them too?” pondered Brutus as he looked at the line that practically went halfway around the boundaries of the Dragonlands. “This is gonna take days.”

Days was right. For three long days and nights the dragons in line waited for their turn. Even for so many gems it might not have felt worth it to the dragons closer to the end of the line and those who possessed hordes that made an additional thousand a paltry amount, but to relinquish their place in line was not something their pride would allow. They waited it out and upon reaching the front they offered a few drops of their blood into Critias’s palm, that was easily large enough to contain every drop given to him without it being close to overflowing.

With blood given, the dragon would then look around the pile of gems, grabbing whatever one thousand they wanted, typically snatching up the largest ones they could find and counted them off as Critias watched closely. Some grabbed only certain gems, preferring to eat gems of a certain type shape or color while others were less picky and just gathered whatever was within reach.

With their new treasure collected, some quickly returned it to their homes for safekeeping before returning, merely out of curiosity for what Critias planned to use their blood for once he had finished collecting it all. Other dragons simply began to eat the gems they gained, hungry after hours of standing in line. A few even decided to pile up their gems into a miniature horde to rest upon while they waited for whatever was to come next.

Finally, the last dragon came and approached the dragon king as he rubbed his weary eyes. “Is it my turn?” he yawned. He was a blue dragon with green eyes and a pale blue underbelly. He a single horn at the end of his long muzzle. The spikes on his back could hardly be considered as such with how flat they were. They went from the base of his neck all the way to the end of his tail that ended in the shape of a horseshoe. Compared to most of the dragons there, he was still relatively young and one of the smaller dragons, hardly more than a single story tall.

“It appears so,” nodded Critias as he let out a yawn of his own, showing off his cavernous maw full of massive teeth. “You have waited quite a while, young one. What is the name of one so patient?”

“Caesar,” he mumbled and hobble over to the pool of blood and offered his portion.

“A fine name,” smiled the golden dragon. “Now, please take your gems.”

Entering into the cave that had once been packed to the brim with gems, only countless scattered pieces remained, mostly very tiny ones and a few larger pieces hidden away in the dark corners. Gathering them up, Caesar carried them out of the cave by the armful and counted them off to Critias as the other dragons watched, eager to finally see the end result of all this.

Just finding and counting all the gems took an hour to accomplish, but when he came out of the cave one final time, he counted, “997… 998… 999…” Everyone awaited to hear him finish, but he stopped there. “I, uh, couldn’t find the last one.”

“Do not worry,” promised Critias. “I will ensure you get your last gem, but, for now, I am finally ready to begin. Please move back some.”

Nodding, Caesar took to the sky and gave the golden dragon the space he requested. Then he, like all the others watched with anticipation. Taking in a deep breath, Critias unleashed an incredible flame upon the blood within his hand. The heat he unleashed was incredible, greater than even the heat of an erupting volcano. For the other dragons, they had to fly even further back as the heat was becoming too much for even them to be able to withstand.

“Wh-What is he doing?” the dragons cried as they watched the air around Critias bend and the mountains around around him start to melt into magma.

“He’s the king of dragons,” another answered. “So, I’m guessing, whatever he wants.”

The blood bubbled in his palm as it was super heated by his flames. Steam billowed out of the life essence as the heat began to evaporate the moisture and cause it to crystalize. Clenching his fist then, he applied all the pressure his strength could muster on the dried blood as he continued to sear his hand with his own flames. It went on for several minutes without him pausing, despite his claws blackening as it became burnt all over.

When the flames faded and the heat diminished enough for the melted stone upon the mountain to solidify once more, the dragons felt comfortable enough to make their way back over to the dragon king. Panting heavily as smoke ceaselessly billowed from his maw, they could see how fatigued he was after such an incredibly taxing ordeal. His claws that had been caught in his flames were hard to look at, though the burns appeared to mostly be on his scales instead of the flesh underneath as evidence by how he was still able to move his claws the same as before.

“I truly am not the spry, young dragon I once way,” he wheezed, his throat dry after unleashing such hot flames. “But I was able to muster the strength to complete it.”

“Complete it?” pondered Brutus as he was the first to approach Critias with the others close behind. “Would you care to tell us what is it you made?”

“I made this,” he explained as he carefully plucked up a tiny blood red crystal from his palm. They all knew that it contained their combined blood, but to have turned it into a crystal with nothing but his own strength and flames was unbelievable. They watched him carefully fit it into the scepter Brutus had provided for him and held it between his thumb and pointer claws. Lifting it up, it glowed brightly. All the dragons witnessing this sight could already tell it possessed a great power within it. “This is the Bloodstone Scepter. Now, what should I try first?”

“A scepter with a gemstone made out of blood from all of us?” asked Brutus. “What kind of power does it poss-”

“Oh, I know,” decided Critias, ignoring Brutus’s words. “All of you, on the ground right now and bow!”

Hearing his words, the silver dragon’s body suddenly froze and a slight burning sensation filled his body as he became compelled to drop to his knees and bow before Critias. All around him, the other dragons were experiencing the same thing. Any that attempted to resist only made the burning increase till they finally gave in and submitted like the others. Seeing all one thousand dragons bowing before him caused Critias to chuckle with delight that it had worked exactly as he had hoped it would.

“Born of our blood, it binds us all to the word of the wielder,” he told them all. “For if one whose bloods resides in this scepter holds it, he shall have power over the others and shall become the Dragon Lord and lead.”

Upon saying that, the feeling of their scales aflame vanished and all the dragons stood up in awe. They were certainly frightened, but at the same time intrigued at what they could accomplish if they could take possession of the Bloodstone Scepter.

“So, that scepter can control any one of us?” asked Brutus, unable to restrain all his excitement at the potential such an object possessed. “What about all the other dragons in our families?”

“As the heads of all the dragon clans, your blood is within them as well,” he answered. “They and all generations to follow will be bound by their blood to heed the call of the Dragon Lord. Only till blood be severed shall they be free of its control.”

“Severed?” pondered Brutus. “So, we are bound to it till we take our final breath.”

“With this, I hope to allow us all to obtain some unity and for these few drops of blood to hopefully be the last we all spill amidst our own kind. It is my final hope to leave behind before my passing. I only wish such a method was not needed to fulfill it. If only-” Critias began to cough and wheeze violently. His whole body shook and convulsed while a pained look appeared on his face.

“Critias!” shouted Brutus. “Did you truly use the last of your strength for this? Did you?”

“My time was better spent using it all up in this last moment than to stretch it any longer and accomplishing nothing,” he admitted with tears running down his face and a smile to hide the pain he was feeling. “But I do have time for one last act, to name my successor.”

“I-I will do my best to make you proud and prove myself worthy,” promised Brutus as he held his arms out for the scepter, already certain it was to be him. “I will lead our people, the dragons, to greatness just as I have always envisioned.”

“I did promise you, one more gem, didn’t I,” spoke the golden dragon to Caesar as he extended his large arm past Brutus and gave it to the blue dragon. Seeing this, Brutus just stared, mouth agape as he felt like a knife had been jabbed right into his heart. Caesar stood their in awe at what was now in his hands and all around him, the other dragons bowed their heads before the newly appointed Dragon Lord.

“M-Me?” asked Caesar unable to believe what had been bestowed upon him. “Why me? Just because I was shorted one measly ruby. How does that make me worthy?”

“It doesn’t!” spat Brutus as he finally found the words to go with his fury. “This is a mistake! The only one who deserves to be Dragon Lord is me! I was going to be the strongest and most powerful after Critias passed, Bloodstone Scepter or not! I have the ambition to unite us and together. We would all share in the bounty of this world beyond the Dragonlands. Tell me, Caesar, was it? What ambitions do you possess that could compare to mine?”

“I-I don’t have any… not really,” he admitted only stoking Brutus’s anger.

“He has a family that he loves and cares for,” commented Critias drawing the attention of all the dragons back to him.

“How did you know?” asked Caesar. “This is our first meeting, isn’t it?”

“I have watched you all for quite some time from my vantage point and learned a great many things about each of you as I bided my time to make this decision. When each of you came to collect the thousand gems I promised, you all had different motivations. Some of you came simply out of greed for more wealth, some for fear of refusing me, and others for many more reasons still. You, Caesar, came to feed your hungry family, didn’t you. And despite this, you lack ambition to fight and pillage from other dragons.”

“I could have done a lot more, but if I were to take from other dragons it would have left them struggling to feed their own family,” he admitted. “That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense for a dragon to think like that.”

“I can’t say it does,” chuckled Critias. “But, that caring spirit you possess, to think of others before yourself, is what caused you to end up at the very end of the line. It is also why I have chosen you to be the next Dragon Lord. In my eyes, you are the most worthy one here.”

“But… But what about me?” cried Brutus. “I cannot accept this! I have a family of my own that I provide for as well. Furthermore, you know me a lot better than him or any other dragon here.”

“I do indeed know you very well,” he acknowledged. “You helped me out greatly in preparing for this and have been a great companion for me in my twilight years. That being said, I had never once desired for a dragon like you to be my successor.”

“Not once?” he cried and turned to Caesar, the Bloodstone Scepter in his hands. With a savage roar of emotion, he lunged at him in an attempt to steal it away. “I may never have been your choice, but it doesn’t matter! Whoever holds the scepter is Dragon Lord, right?”

“St-Stop!” cried Caesar as he guarded against Brutus and caused the enraged dragon to collapse to the ground at his feet.

Despite the burning he had felt coursing through his body, he tried to fight it to no avail. The best he could manage was to gaze back over at Critias as he cursed his name, but his words never did reach his old friend. For it had already happened, Critias had passed away.

“Dead? No, you can’t be dead!” wailed Brutus. “You can’t die on me! Not now! Not like this! Critias!”

“The end,” finished Ember to Spike who didn’t look very happy with it.

“That’s it?” cried Spike. “It ended with Critias dying and Brutus hating him for choosing a different dragon to succeed him?”

“One of the great dragon legends,” she explained. “Dragon stories tend to end on a rather depressing tone. Would you like to hear the story, ‘A Dream Come True’ next?”

“I get the feeling I won’t like that one very much either,” admitted Spike, not looking very hungry to finish his bowl of gems now. “Whatever became of Brutus after that?”

“There isn’t too much to say about him in general,” she answered Spike. “He never became the Dragon Lord and faded into obscurity. The only thing that remains of him is his ideal of dragons coming together to rule over all of Equestria.”

“That sounds just like what that dragon, Crag, was talking about earlier,” realized Spike.

“Most dragons consider Critias as the only pillar of the dragons,” she told him. “But there are some, like Crag, who believe in Brutus’s ideals and see him as the second. Still, pillars or not, that those two were able to pass something down through countless generations of dragons is quite an amazing accomplishment. But, I have to agree with you. It is tragic that their friendship ended the way it did.”

“Yeah,” sighed Spike. “I wish there was something we could have done to help, but there’s no changing the past… well, there is, but nothing good comes from it. Trust me.”

“Uh huh… Did you wanna hear about another Dragon Lord, now?” suggested Ember, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Do you know any that didn’t have such a depressing end?” wondered Spike.

“If you want a good Dragon Lord Story,” interrupted Torch. “Then how about I tell you mine?” He didn’t wait for an answer and just started to tell them. “After proving myself the biggest and strongest dragon around, I became the Dragon Lord. The only problem I had was, deciding what I wanted to do to make my mark first.”

“Uh, is he going to be talking all night now?” Spike whispered to Ember.

“Dragon Lord Scintilla had always been a personal hero of mine,” Torch continued to speak and it became obvious the more he said that he had told this very tale so many times before he had it committed it to memory word for word. “He had done battle with the Yaks far to the north and through his might they made him an honorary member of their tribe out of respect. It was something I wished to achieve as well. I thought to myself, ‘who could I challenge that is as mighty as the Yaks?’ and just like that, the answer came to me, ‘the buffalos, of course!’”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded as she stretched and reclined on the table. “Might as well get comfortable. We’re going to be here a while.”

“Glad I was prepared,” smiled Spike as he retrieved his pillow and fluffed it up before resting his head upon it. Getting comfy, he resumed listening to Torch talk on and on, his long windedness actually helping to put him to sleep.

“Unarmed and without the aid of my fellow dragons, I flew towards the tribe of the Buffalos, determined to show them my might and earn their respect.”

Spark sat at a dinner table much smaller in scale than the one Spike and Ember stood upon. He had a plate of gems laid out for him and across the table was his father, Crag, with his own plate of gems too. Not a word was traded between the two, making the silent time feel like it stretched on endlessly. It was still far preferable to the little dragon compared to his father in a rage.

What finally broke that silence was the sound of footsteps, drawing their attention away from their meal and towards the entrance of their cave where Garble now stood. “Hey there,” he spoke. “Long time no see.”

“Well, well, well, my first hatched has decided to show his face before me,” spoke Crag in a belittling tone. “What do I owe the displeasure?”

“Good to know you are still disappointed in me, dad,” he scoffed. “I didn’t come here to speak with you. I want to talk with Spark.”

“He’s right there, so go right ahead,” Crag told him. “I’m not stopping you. It’d be a waste of time and energy on my part.”

Snarling and nostrils flaring with smoke, Garble looked ready to lash out at Crag, but a glare from his old man was enough to quell his flames. “Come on, Spark. Let’s talk outside.”

“Okay, Garble,” nodded Spark, shaking nervously from the confrontation that was narrowly avoided between his brother and father.

They walked outside and a short distance away. Looking around, Garble made certain they were alone before taking a seat and sighing. “So, peewee, how have you been? Dad hasn’t been too rough on you, has he?” As he asked this he looked over Spark carefully, making certain now a single scale was out of place.

“I’m doing well,” he answered. “Dad might act mean and scary, but he would never lay a claw on me.”

“Well, if he does, make sure you let someone know,” he instructed him. “Me, or the Dragon Lord, or pretty much any adult you can find, immediately.”

“Ok,” nodded Spark. “But dad doesn’t treat me any different than when he was spending all his time with you. You were always his favorite.”

“Dad didn’t have a favorite child,” Garble commented. “He had high hopes for me and I let him down. Now he doesn’t want anything to do with me and since I’ve already molted he’s no longer responsible for my well-being, so we don’t have to even see each other any more.”

“Still, I’m really glad to see you,” stated the small, yellow dragon. “I wish you’d come and visit more often.”

“Don’t count on it, peewee,” he grinned trying to sound like a cool, tough guy. “Your big bro does what he wants, when he wants. I just happened to feel like stopping by the old cave. Nothing more than that.”

“Still, I missed you,” smiled Spark as he sat beside his brother to give him a hug.

“Ewe, don’t get all sappy with me,” Garble told him and got his brother to let go of him. “Don’t start acting like… nevermind. Just don’t forget, never show weakness in front of anyone.”

“When you talk like that, you sound just like dad,” pointed out Spark.

“I was raised by him so what would you expect?” pointed out Garble. “He taught me to be strong and fierce, but that’s the only thing of value he ever gave me. I don’t care about what he wants and he doesn’t want anything else to do with me since I’m no longer of any use to him. As far as I’m concerned, the less I have to see him, the better.”

“Then why did you come over?” wondered Spark.

“Ugh,” groaned Garble. “I already told you. I just felt like it… But… I get the feeling he didn’t want to take you to the festival tomorrow. I suppose, I could take you. Not like I care about that sort of thing, but I’ve got nothing better to do tomorrow.”

“You really mean that?” replied Spark with delight. “You really wanna go with me?”

“As I said, I don’t have anything better to do, so sure,” he nodded with a little smile and flattened the spikes on Spark’s head flat as he rubbed his head.

“Tomorrow will be the best day ever,” cheered Spark. “I get to go to the festival with my big brother Garble and my hero, Spike!”

“Heheh, yeah- wait, what?” questioned Garble. “Your hero, Spike? Wha- How… When did this happen?”

“Earlier today,” he answered. “Dad didn’t want to take me so I asked if Spike would take me and he agreed. Now we can all go together.”

“Him again,” thought Garble as he could feel his anger boiling over inside. “Time and time again and now this too.”

“Is something wrong?” Spark asked Garble seeing him grip the rock they were sitting on so tightly his claws were digging into it.

“Nothing,” answered Garble with his emotions restrained. “Just forget I said anything.”

“But what about hanging out tomorrow,” asked his younger brother.

“You’ve already got plans with your hero,” he replied as he walked a few steps and opened his wings to take flight.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be there too,” he told him. “I know you two had your differences in the past, but can’t we all just have fun together tomorrow?”

“I only offered because I didn’t think you could go otherwise,” explained Garble. “Since you can go, it just means I have more time to do whatever I want. Lucky me.”

“But, Garble,” cried Spark as his brother took off into the air and flew off.

“See you around next time I feel like dropping by,” he called off and flew out of sight, across the dimming sky as night time fast approached. Spark sadly watched his brother leave him and walked back to his cave to finish his dinner.

Garble flew back to the cave he resided in, a decent-sized one for a single teen dragon. The only thing he had in there was a decent collection of gemstones and a few large rocks he used as weights for working out with. Now that he was alone and certain he couldn’t be heard by anyone else, he let out all the rage he had been restraining in one, big monstrous roar, but that was still not enough to calm him down. He then spat fire and swung his fists, making cracks in the cave walls where they smashed into it.

“Again and again!” he shouted in frustration. “Acting all good and innocent, but stealing everything from me!” Falling to his knees, Garble slammed his fists to the ground, panting and wheezing embers from his maw as his fury refused to subside. “Spike!” As much as he tried to conceal his anger in the confines of his cave, his voice leaked out of the entrance for anyone in the vacinity to hear. He went on cursing Spike’s name for some time as he thrashed about on the floor till he was sweaty and exhausted. On his back, he stared up at the cave ceiling and panted heavily.

“You want to have enjoy a fun day at the festival with my little brother,” he spoke to nobody. “Not if I can help it.”

Author's Note:

Next time: Big Brother Spike

Comments

[Scyphi]

“Please pass the salt, small one,” Torch told Spike in a tone that was more like ordering than asking.

Torch doesn't strike me as the sort of dragon who'd say "please" or "thank you." But, there it is, so...

[Matthais Unidostres]

You did the impossible! You made me feel sympathy for Garble! Incredible!