• Published 13th Dec 2011
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The Ambassador's Son - Midnightshadow



A colt loses his family, Celestia deems his best hope lies not with ponies, but a dragon.

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Tough Call

The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son

Chapter Eleven
Tough Call
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow


"More sprinkles!" the little pink fist slammed onto the table, making the dirty plates and cups rattle.

"Spike, my friend, don't you think you've had enough?"

"I said more sprinkles!" Spike scowled. The sugar-rush was fading, that would mean a grumpy descent into the great sugar crash of this night's post-donut orgy, if nothing was done. Spike would not stand for this, not tonight!

Chip hiccuped, "I think you'd better do as he says. That goes double for me!" the colt also slammed a hoof into the table, making the plates rattle again.

"And I mean the good stuff!"

Pony Joe rolled his eyes, sometimes he regretted setting up this sort of shop. "Woah, Spike, compadre - the good stuff? For him? You sure?"

Spike nodded, looking left and right at the otherwise-empty donut shop, "The good stuff. He deserves it!"

Pony Joe shook his head. He knew one day it'd lead to trouble, even in a high class town such as Canterlot. Ponies and donuts, a bad combination. Dragons and donuts? Even worse. He might have to cut off one of his best customers, that hadn't happened since... since... since that little mare, Twilight Sparkle, had had one too many a few seasons back. That girl, whew, she'd been able to pack 'em away. Had grown up pretty though, shame she moved away.

Joe clip-clopped around to the back room. He liked to make out, for his customers that were less than connoiseurs, that the back room was just an old store-room, devoid of anything interesting. Perhaps in a less enchanted city as Canterlot it would be. In Pony Joe's Delightful Donuts, however, the back room was a veritable treasure-trove of the weird and wonderful, guaranteed to be one-hundred-percent edible to some client, somewhere, somewhen. The honorable league of confectionery bakers' code was strict on that. For every craving, a confectionery. He dove deep into his store, and re-emerged with the prize. Draconic Donut Sprinkles. He carried them carefully back, the relatively plain box held securely in the grip of his magic. Some of the 'sprinkles' were explosive if mishandled. Some were explosive even when handled correctly.

The jars were often ancient, with cribbed, cramped, spidery hoof-writing on them. These wouldn't age, not in his lifetime. They were inherited. They came with the shop, almost. With very careful movements, precise spurts of magical manipulations, he retrieved a whole box of sticky vanilla-frosted donuts. To these blank molds he added choice sprinkles of a selection of exotic flavourings. Some of them smouldered.

Spike reached for one particularly glowing specimen and scarfed it in one bite. Joe watched as the pony took another one.

"Hey, yo, kid, that's..."

The donut disappeared, vanquished, obliterated, devoured. Chip burped. Joe swore he saw flame momentarily flicker around the colt's muzzle. Naa...

"Spike, you know those're the special deliveries, right?"

"It's cool Joe, this is Chip, he's a dragon."

Joe backed up a few steps, retreating behind the counter. Very carefully, he sat down. Some days, it just didn't pay to flip the humorous 'Sorry! We're Open!' sign outwards.

"This one... this one's got silver in it. Little flakes of silver..." Spike hiccuped, eyeing the donut with a gaze which was both distant and strangely fixated. His mouth watered.

Chip gingerly took a bite. His ears flicked up, "It tastes like... like... pop-rocks!"

"I know! But better than those pretenders, right?"

"But kinda mixed with..."

"Yup!"

Joe cringed, blank smile never quite leaving his muzzle even amidst the rather distressing sounds of dragons - even the pony-shaped one, apparently - wreaking vengeance upon his special-delivery pastries.

It was then that a horrible, horrible, awful, terrible thought presented itself. Of all the worst possible things, this was the. Worst. Possible. Thing.

Neither one of them had any bits.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth grumbled in a low, growling tone that quite raised the hackles of the unfortunate shop keeper. The green dragon looked down at the bill in his paws and then back over at the two slumped, snoring, crumb-covered, occasionally-moaning and overall pudgy figures on the floor of the donut shop. A brief whisp of smoke rose from each nostril.

"They really ate all this?"

Joe grinned, hopefully, "Hey, when it's one of my best customers out on the town..."

"And yet I end up with the bill." Sharptooth narrowed his eyes, turning a rather baleful stare towards the shop-keeper.

"That's your kid, right? You know, I, er," Joe harrumphed, "I don't really see the family resemblance."

Sharptooth glared at the pony for a moment, turning up the intensity a few notches. It could have singed metal at fifty paces. "You know I could just turn you into charcoal?"

"Hey, heeyyy, no hard feelings! I'll put it on your tab, a gentle... dragon like yourself, I'm sure you're good for it."

"Seeing as at least one of these miscreants is her royal highness' prize pupil's misbegotten assistant, I shall have words with Celestia for the other half. Failing that, I will be in contact about the remainder - after I have a word with my son over his allowance and the importance of working for a living."

Joe's ears drooped as the dragon handed over a worryingly light money purse, confiscating a goodly amount into another bag that he somehow secreted about his person. It wasn't like Joe had all that many dragons as clients, but he suddenly wasn't sure if he wanted to tangle with both a dragon and the princess. Then again, the princess was a swell filly, she always paid in full, a proper tipper too. He brightened. At the very least, it was good customer relations. He could wait a while. "Thank ya kindly, it's no problem..."

"I am glad to hear it, but I do suggest restraint in catering to the whims of children in future, the next dragon may not be so generous when presented with such unexpected demands for reparation."

The dragon left, with both troublesome youngsters slung over a shoulder.

Joe let out his breath, turned the sign on the door around so the outside would read 'Sorry! We're Closed!', turned off the lights, and cowered behind the counter for a while.

♦♦♦

Chip groaned and woke at some unfeasibly, uncomfortably early hour. His world was pain, centered around his tummy. Too much frosting. Oh Celestia, the frosting! He burped, suddenly feeling rather queasy. Something had woken him, but his brain hadn't quite caught up. As he sat up in bed, his memory came back in a rush. It was still, however, a shock that he was actually in a bed rather than passed out on the floor of some seedy donut shop in the back alleys of Canterlot City.

There was a brief flare of green flame that shook him back to reality, and a small purple and green dragon reformed himself at the foot of the bed from what looked like smoke. Chip couldn't help but notice the dragon was... just a tad frillier than he remembered, unless one-piece babywear sleepers were a standard bedtime outfit for the creature.

Chip blinked, "Did you... did you just post yourself?"

Spike's eyes watered and he staggered as he regained his footing, smouldering slightly, "Kinda. I hate when that happens. I think your dad dropped me in the laundry basket and put the lid on."

"Yeah, I... dimly remember him saying something about snoring. So what happened?"

"That much flame, a confined space... you work it out."

"And the baby outfit?" Chip waved a hoof, laughing, pointing towards the frilly bonnet, some sort of one-piece sleeping suit and what appeared to be a cast-iron teething ring draped around the dragon's neck on a ribbon.

"When you drop out of the sky and land on Celestia just as she's trying to get to sleep, you don't get off lightly. Where'd she even get diapers like these?" Spike threw his paws out, gesturing. He was mortified. At least only one other would ever know this shame, and it was a dragon - of a sort - at that.

Chip giggled, "You said Twinkle, or whatever her name is, is kind of your mom, right? I guess she had some left over. I'm surprised they still fit."

Spike growled, "Dragons don't grow like ponies, you know, not exactly. At least I don't." he tore the offending items off and dumped them back into the laundry basket which was, Chip noted, slightly blackened on the inside.

"Urgh, I need to visit the little foal's room." Chip heaved himself out of the overly-soft bed. He wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or... either way, it wasn't going to be pretty. Never again, he promised himself as he threw back the silken pink covers of the strange bed. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry and he was pretty sure that a large amount of stray sprinkles had found their way into his nose and ears. They itched.

A while later, after some gargling, spitting, chain-pulling and a large amount of ablutions, Chip staggered out of the en-suite bathroom and finally took a proper look around the room. It was... pink. Frilly. Girly. In the very early pre-dawn light, the sheer cuteness of the room was displayed in all it's entire glory. He shuddered. He could feel his stallionosity retreating from the onslaught of fru-fru.

"Spike, is this... your room?"

"What? Oh come on! That's cos I'm pink, right? I mean purple! Purple! No, this is-" Spike yawned and stretched. He'd passed out on the foot of the bed but had woken up at Chip's insistent prodding. " This is Twilight's old bedroom. We're in her tower."

"Twilight has her own tower?"

"Well she is Celestia's prize pupil. And you slept in her bed. Oh gosh I hope you didn't shed. You have no idea how crazy she is about shedding!"

Chip laughed, "Tell me about it, Mom..." he paused, the smile fading from his muzzle, "mom was kinda like that too." he added, in a smaller voice.

"What happened?" Spike patted the bed, "You never did finish telling me, earlier."

Chip clambered back up onto it, curling up into a tight little ball as he fixed his gaze upon the wall. "They died."

"You said that. Go on, if you want to, course."

"There's not much more to know, other than that a diamond dog mine collapsed on them. I was home, with Gentry our butler. Mom and Dad were out visiting with some diamond dog pack, one of our old mines was being re-opened and they'd found something, a new vein I guess. I wanted to go with them, but they... they didn't let me. I shouted at them." Chip sniffled, eyes on the wall, trying to hide his tears. "Th-then Celestia came. She just appeared, in the doorway, and-and she took me. Just like that. Next thing I know I'm in some place called Tacksworn."

"So you're here for the-"

"Funeral. Yeah. It just doesn't seem real, you know? I mean I know I know, but... I don't know. I keep wishing I'd wake up, that somepony would tell me it's all a bad dream!" Chip uncurled and rolled onto his back, gazing up at the frilly pink curtains surrounding the huge four-poster bed. "I keep wishing that it would all be some stupid trick, a lie, but... Celestia wouldn't lie, would she?"

Spike shook his head, "I've never known her to, and I got to see her a lot with Twilight."

"Sharptooth, I guess he's my dad for good now, calls her sneaky. I thought she was like... perfect or something. What's she really like?" Chip snuffled, turning to look at the baby dragon.

Spike grinned, "She's not like most stuffy royals, uh-uh. She once enchanted a whole batch of gems and hid them where she knew I'd find them. It took me a week to realize why I was waking up a new colour every day. She said it was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. I guess it worked."

"I wish this was just a stupid lesson, and that tomorrow they'll pop out and shout 'surprise!' and I'll be able to... see them and... hug them, and hold them, and... tell them I'm sorry," the colt sniffled again and wiped his nose with a hoof, "I'll never, ever, ever..."

"I'm sure they know, Chip. Get some sleep, if you can. You'll feel better in the morning..."

Chip burst into tears and wailed, burying his head in the pillow, crying out, "I miss them so much!"

Spike patted the colt's head, awkwardly. He missed Twilight, but at least he could go home again. He'd be in trouble, but she'd forgive him. He didn't really know what to do, but he did his best. Eventually the pony's sobs subsided, and the colt slept. Spike curled up at the end of the bed like he used to, and closed his eyes. He was worried about Chip, but what could he do? Even at her worst, Twilight had never sobbed like that. Then again, Twi's biggest problems had been when Smarty Pants lost a button eye or she'd got a B-minus instead of an A-plus on a test. Spike figured crying was good, ponies had taught him that, it was when they didn't cry that he was really worried.

♦♦♦

The flight out of Canterlot was pretty silent. Sharptooth once again favoured his own wings, which left Spike and Chip to share the carriage. Spike tried to cheer Chip up the first half of the journey by pointing out all the landmarks he could. The great railway from Stalliongrad that went through the mountain, the lake said to be the result of a shooting star, the distant purple mountains said to hold a treasure no pony could bear to look upon. By the halfway mark, Chip was comforting Spike, who had realized that he'd done a runner the previous day and had become convinced Twilight would turn him into a rug. The small pink and green dragon got more and more nervous, almost comically so to Chip, who watched the dragon stuff almost half his tail in his muzzle and start chewing on it, rocking back and forth.

When they landed, however, the door to the library flew open and Twilight galloped out, picking up the small reptile with her magic and holding him to her like she was trying to make him into some sort of flat, draconic fashion accessory. She rubbed her muzzle against him, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Don't you ever do that again!"

"I-I promise, Twilight, but... but... you always say I should get out more and..."

"And make some friends, just like you used to keep telling me to do. Oh Spike, I was so worried!"

"Do you think Celestia would want to hear a friendship report about it?" Spike looked up at his friend and mentor hopefully.

"I think that'd be a lovely idea, Spike, do you want to write it this time?"

"How about we both do?" the dragon offered as he hopped up onto Twilight's back.

"Deal." Twilight said, closing the door behind them.

Chip sat, still in the carriage, looking at the door forlornly for a few moments. Sharptooth cleared his throat, "I'm pretty sure you can come back to visit, and I think I heard something about posting letters?"

Chip nodded, "I just... I dunno."

Sharptooth looked at the door too. "Maybe I should ask about... no, that'd be a poor idea, what could a bookish unicorn mare know about protecting a foal from diamond dogs?" he said under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing, Chip. Come on, we've got some clothes to purchase and then we've a long flight ahead of us. I will ride with you this time, so you may have to arrange yourself, even with Celestia's carriage it's not the biggest of conveyances."

♦♦♦

Chip was too distracted to be bored with fitting, he didn't even budge much when another gem was handed to him. It was another fire-ruby, although much smaller than the one Lord Sapphire had given him. It was also flawed, cracked, which was likely why Rarity had given it to him to eat. She was generous with her time and dress-making skills, he realized, but a cracked gem, whilst still tasty, wasn't so pretty to look at.

His eyes fell on the one remaining trunk in the carriage as he clambered in next to Sharptooth. He hadn't noticed, before, but the smaller trunk that had originally held his training spikes was missing.

"Hmm? Oh, I left that in a safe place, my boy. This is your trunk now, it carries all your training spikes and a few other things. I... didn't need any luggage."

"But... why do I need luggage then?"

"Oh, I'm just a guest, you're family. Don't worry, you'll... you'll see."

Chip grimaced as the four seemingly tireless pegasi pulling the chariot took off smoothly. Sharptooth was hiding something. His stomach flipped thinking what it could be.

As the countryside rolled past underneath, Chip fell into a doze. He hadn't cried this morning, he wondered. It seemed odd, but maybe he was saving his tears for later. He felt almost empty, all the roiling and bubbling emotion that had filled the last few days was absent, replaced with simply an empty, hard feeling in his chest. It was like... it was like the world wasn't real, he realized. He'd often felt like he was in a dream, the last week or so, just going through the motions. Now it felt the other way around.

As he wondered what it meant, a claw came down upon his head, stroking through his mane softly. At least he had Sharptooth, he reasoned, the dragon had promised he'd never leave him.

♦♦♦

Being amongst ponies again, discounting the distant and hesitant crowd that had all but refused to associate with him at school, was strange. He regarded them through hard eyes. He knew most of them through pictures; mostly distant relatives, friends of the family, peers. Cousin Clover, second cousins Mint Julep and Cherry Delight, great Aunt Gilded Lilly. Various second uncles twiced removed and third aunts in laws and distant third cousin's aunt's mother's former room-mates...

If he'd been older, he'd have known the feeling. Partly anger, partly frustration at the hangers-on. Partly sadness and regret at ponies he'd probably never see again except at other funerals or weddings. It didn't seem to Chip like these were family at all, not really. For all that the Irontails were a big clan, he didn't know any other ponies he'd actually call 'family'.

He'd walked through the crowded lobby, noticing curiously that Sharptooth hung back as he himself trotted up the wide, winding staircase. A glance behind him told him that it was almost as if the dragon were invisible. Chip figured it was because he wasn't a pony, he probably wasn't 'aristocracy' enough to them - they most likely had no idea that he was a Dragon Lord. He wasn't sure if some of them would care. If you weren't a pony of means, you were a second class citizen, just like the rest of the riff-raff that lived outside of Manehatten, Canterlot, Neighvada or Stalliongrad.

Everypony was very friendly to Chip, everypony wanted to meet the new Baron Irontail, shmoozing things up even now. He heard the whispers; some pitying, some incensed. He grit his teeth and smiled blankly - he didn't feel like smiling, he felt like screaming.

So this was Neighvada, thought Chip idly. He'd only ever been a few times before to Neighvada City, when he had been much smaller. A hotel of some sort, on the classier side of town, had been chosen for the occasion, though he didn't know by whom. Maybe it had been Sharptooth. The carpets were plush and red, the drapes thick and heavy and the employees all wore expensive-looking uniforms and called everypony 'sir' or 'madame'. Every floor was opulent, well-tended and almost identical to the last, decorated in that sort of timeless high-class style that never changed nor went either in or out of fashion.

His parents had often told him of how they'd eloped and gotten married in a no-name seedy drive-through ceremony, where the required locally-known personages were often 'exotic dancers'. He hadn't known what it meant, back then. He did now. He didn't understand why, but he knew they'd loved him and each other, and whilst pomp and ceremony had been a part of their lives, they'd tried to avoid it when dealing with him, when they were home.

He passed through the great ballroom like a ghost, not sure where he was heading until he found himself suddenly there. Two caskets, made of some expensive and dark wood, with the Irontail Seal on the top wrought in, what else, iron. Mother, Father, he thought to himself. He fell backwards onto his rump, hanging his head low before their remains. Dimly he remembered that Irontails normally had a wake, and an open casket so that the family could pay last respects. These were closed. He reached out a hoof, they weren't nailed shut. He lifted the lid slightly, gasped, and turned away, retching.

He regretted it instantly. This was no joke, and somewhere in his mind he was screaming that he wished it had been. They were really in there, cold and damaged. What was left was not suitable for the eyes of the living. He listened, mind freewheeling, as somewhere somepony started a series of long, racking painful howls and sobs. It took him a minute to realize he was the one doing it. With great difficulty he turned his body, facing away from the caskets. They flanked him, one each side, the closest to them he would ever be again.

What was he supposed to do now? His brain froze, refusing even to give him the solace of the autopilot that had gotten him through the tough times he'd had in the last few days. As his gaze rose from the floor, he saw the assembled throng shuffling nervously before him, politely ignoring the sobbing which was going on, utterly failing to comfort him.

He was Baron Irontail, a snide and sarcastic part of his mind noted, this was his duty. Whilst other kids were learning purely their three 'R's, he had also been drilled in etiquette and manners. His father, Rusty, had often made fun of some of the more absurd requirements for the game of 'being a gentlepony' which had softened the lessons somewhat, but Chip had learned them all the same.

They probably expected him to make a speech, he hadn't written one. What could he say? His gaze danced from unfamiliar face to unfamiliar face and the words wouldn't come. He hung his head.

"Hey Kiddo," whispered an older pony, a strange gold and grey flecked stallion, "you don't need to worry yourself none!. Allow me the honour of giving your folks the proper sendoff?"

Chiphoof watched dumbly as the stallion took a place next to him, and opened his muzzle, and just started talking. Autopilot returned.

♦♦♦

"...And may you trot forever more, in pastures greenly filled,

where hurt is gone and weather mild.

We miss your breath and gentle face,

given back to Equestria's embrace..."

As the last few strains of the old song faded away, Chiphoof felt a light hoof around his shoulders. It pulled his head to the chest of another pony, and he sobbed out, "G'bye Mom an'Dad!" before collapsing into tears, all the while a hoof was gently stroking his mane.

As was the custom, solemn and silent unicorns were brought forth to lift the caskets in the air and escort them, slowly and with dignity, out of the hall through double doors that swung open and closed on well-oiled hinges.

"Thank you, everypony, for paying your respects to both the former Baron Irontail and his wife, and to the young Baron Irontail in his hour of need. The reception will be in a half hour in the lower ballroom, the bar is open now." the strange pony said. He stomped a hoof twice, and the assembled throng left the room, filing out silently.

"How've you been, Chip me lad?"

"Huh?" Chip, sobbing so hard his chest ached, looked up through the tears at the strange pony who was still hugging him.

"You don't remember me, do ya? Uncle Pyrite, my old lady was your dad's sister. She was... slated to be the new Baroness Irontail once upon a time."

"What happened to her?" Chip whispered hoarsely, snuffling.

"She died, I... she died. In childbirth. So did my boy."

"I'm sorry!"

Pyrite shook his head, "You've nothing to be sorry for, mate, it were a while ago now."

"Does it ever stop hurting?" Chip asked, sensing a kindred spirit.

"When you're abandoned like that? No, no it doesn't, not really. Come on kid, stick with me, it'll work out."

♦♦♦

Sharptooth eased himself in to the hotel lobby. It was large as well as relatively fancy. Bigger institutions like this one catered to more than just ponies, he knew. Griffons, a few dragons - it wouldn't be without problems, but he wasn't reduced to skulking around outside. He hung back as the lad trotted away, Chip giving a last look over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd. Sharptooth sighed to himself, he wasn't sure he was about to make the right decision, everything was screaming at him not to, but... he had to think of the child. He was sure, he kept telling himself, that Chip would be better off if he were with ponies for a while, and real family at that.

He searched through the ponies for one stallion in particular, with a silver-grey coat and speckled gold and silver mane, some sort of near uncle, the nearest thing to family the boy had. Spotting him, Sharptooth wandered up to the stallion and tapped him gently on the flank. The startled pony spun around, knocking several other patrons back as he reared up.

"Oh! Sorry, mister. Wheoo, you're big. What brings a dragon like you to Neighvada? Business?"

Sharptooth grimaced, he hated mind magic. Celestia didn't approve of it, truth be told neither did he, but needs must. He placed the point of one talon upon the pony's head and spoke softly, "You won't remember me, not clearly. You spoke with Chip's temporary guardian, whenever Chip mentions Sharptooth to you, you will hear sharphoof, is that clear? Sharphoof is a pegasus living near Tacksworn, he is completely uninteresting to you and you will forget all about him if he is ever mentioned."

"Yes." Pyrite the pony's gaze was curiously vacant.

"You will offer to take your nephew in, he will have with him a box... you will ignore the box once it is safely within your home. You will forget the box and everything associated with it, is this clear?"

"Yes."

"We spoke, you have agreed he will stay with you for a while, as long as is necessary." The claw upon the pony's head vanished, and Pyrite blinked. He felt strange, as if... he took a sip of his drink. Plans changed. This one was much better. Yes, he would take the boy in, give him a good home. He finished his drink, shivering as the burning alcholic beverage slid down his long throat. Time to be useful.

♦♦♦

Chip wandered in a daze, much as he had for the rest of the day. His new suit chafed, though surprisingly little, and his appetite was both raging and non-existent.

"Where's Sharptooth?" he whined, nudging Uncle Pyrite, who turned to glare at him momentarily, before his expression softened.

"Sharphoof? I think... I think he was leaving-"

"Tooth," Chip insisted, "what?"

"Your pegasus friend. Yeah, he's leaving, I think."

Chip bolted, not even bothering to correct his uncle on the fact Sharptooth was a dragon, not some stupid pegasus. Sharptooth couldn't leave without him! It had to be some mistake. The earth pony barged through the mass of allegedly-relatives with little to no thought to their disposition. It wasn't hard to spot the great green lizard attempting to sneak through the relatively tiny front doors to the hotel, but he did have a head start.

Chip head butted the doors and slammed through them, crying, "Wait! Wait Dad!"

Sharptooth, wings lifted, turned his head, "What? Chip... no... go back inside."

"Where are you- you promised!"

Sharptooth lowered his wings, "It's... just for a little while, Chip."

"You promised!" Chip stamped as hard as he could, it hurt, "What are you doing? You can't leave me! You promised you wouldn't!"

"Think of it as a holiday-"

"I don't want a holiday!"

"You're..."

"No! You said you'd never leave me!"

"I'm not, my boy, I promise-"

Chip breathed in, the boiling heat in his stomach bubbling over as he roared in sudden anger, "No! You're breaking your promise! This is no promise! You said you'd never leave me!"

"It's for your own good, lad-"

"Buck you, Sharpie," spat Chip, "you lied to me! You're running away! You hate me! You never wanted me! I'm just some freaky stupid pony, is that it? Well kiss my flank you- you-" Chip roared again, incoherent rage, as Sharptooth the dragon took off into the air, downdraft from his great wings flinging dust and dirt across the crowded streets.

"Forgive me, Chip, I'll be back to get you soon."

"No you won't! I never want to see you again! Never! Do you hear me? NEVER!" Chip screamed, repeating the last word again and again until the dragon was out of earshot.

Pyrite found the colt there, outside the hotel, and ushered him in. He looked back, one last time, at the skies where the odd pegasus Sharphoof had disappered, with a small smile on his muzzle. He had the boy now, he'd look after him.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth flew home. Time didn't seem to matter to him, but it felt like forever. For a creature of something over a thousand years, he'd never expected one night to last so long. The wind was cold, it was solitary flying at night. He usually enjoyed such solitude, but not this time. The cold air dug at his eyes and he found himself blinking both sets of eyelids to keep them clear.

Eventually the lights of Neighvada were left far behind, to be replaced by rolling tundra. He'd done the right thing, hadn't he? He'd go back for the child, who would be a changed colt. Ponies were... creatures of the herd. He was a dragon, he was entirely wrong for the boy. Half way up a mountain in the middle of nowhere, that's how Chip had described Sharptooth's home. Landing on the wide ridge, so many hours later, he had to agree, that's pretty much what it was.

He unlocked the door, manipulating both key and spell, before going in and shutting the door against the night. The eternal fire was still burning. He stoked it, tired, and it flared, warm light sending dark shadows dancing across his walls. He didn't feel like making anything to eat or drink, not tonight. He would go straight to bed, alone at last, the way he wanted it.

His weir was waiting for him, dusty and comfortable as it should be. All his own, just the right shape, just the right size, ideal for a single dragon. He curled up at the bottom of it, closing his eyes and waiting for oblivion to find him.

Why then, he wondered some time later, as the moon travelled across the diamond-speckled velvet darkness of the night, if the small hollow depression in his private sleeping chambers was so perfect, was he finding it so hard to sleep?

♦♦♦