• 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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Evening Star

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

Chapter Five
Evening Star
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow


Chip was grounded. He hated it. It sucked. He sulked.

“I did warn you, Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback, not to fight on school property.” chided Sharptooth as he busied himself around the house to make a fresh pot of tea.

“It wasn’t my fault!” protested the young colt, all but throwing his hooves in the air.

“You gave him a black eye, chipped a tooth and almost emasculated him.”

“He pounced me! I asked him nicely not to!”

“I know, and I do not blame you. You were simply defending yourself, which is why you’re only grounded for the weekend.”

“That even doesn’t make any sense!”

“What kind of parent would I be if I did not keep my word, Chip? I always keep my word. Remember that.”

“I still don’t see why. You’re so unfair.”

Sharptooth put the gently glowing teapot down. He leaned back in his chair as Chip put his head on his hooves next to the fire. This pot of tea was perfect, warmed thoroughly and evenly, and heated slowly to the boil. He would wait a couple of minutes, and then pour it out. “Young dragon-”

“No. Horseapples! Horseapples! He made me! It’s total clop, Dad! I did everything I could not to fight him! I tried to avoid him, I asked him nicely. I let him insult me and you and mom and dad and-”

“Chip...”

“IT’S NOT FAIR AND YOU CAN KISS MY FLANK!”

Sharptooth’s eyes widened at the outburst as Chip went from zero to rage in moments. The colt ripped the pillows with his teeth and threw them in the fire. He bucked the wall hard enough his hooves went through it and he shouldered his way past the chair the dragon was on so hard they both almost went flying. The child stormed up the stairs, slammed the door and Sharptooth heard him throw himself on the sofa and proceed to cry.

Sharptooth poured himself a cup of tea. He found it didn’t taste quite so good as he had hoped.

♦♦♦

The door opened.

“Chip?”

“Go ‘way.”

“Can I come in?”

“It’s your house isn’t it?” the foal answered sullenly.

“But it’s your room, son. Please, can I come in?”

“I guess so.”

Sharptooth eased himself in. The broken model from a few days before still lay, in pieces, on the desk. The curtains had been opened, but very little else had changed. The old, tattered sofa currently held a pile of blankets and a roughly pony-shaped lump that was currently sniffling from underneath them. The dragon sat down on the end of the sofa, it creaked with his weight.

“Maybe,” said Sharptooth, “just maybe, I was wrong. I... I didn’t mean to make it sound so final. I rather thought it would mean we could do something together this weekend. I didn’t know you had, you know, plans.”

Chip laughed, despite himself, sniffing loudly and poking his head out from under the covers, “What did you think I’d be doing? I live halfway up a mountain, Dad. I barely know anypony.”

“Well, there was that young griffon you were talking to before I arrived. What’s her name?”

Chip blushed and retreated under the covers, just the tip of his muzzle poking out. “Carmine.” he whispered.

“Ah, it’s like that, is it. Say no more. How about, as long as you help me fix the wall and repair the pillows you ripped, we consider the day after tomorrow as your grounding being over? Perhaps we could go flying, you might see Carmine...”

“Daaa-aaaaad!” whined Chip, “No, that’s even worse!”

“Well, then maybe your old Dad can drop you off in Tacksworn with some bits, just so long as you promise to stay out of trouble, hmm? I believe there is a fair on, lasting for a few weeks. Some dragon dignitaries, griffon princes, pony princesses, that sort of thing. Just the right sort of place for a young dragon and griffon to have some fun at-”

“Daaa-aaad!”

Without their parents interfering. Too much. Or would you rather stay grounded?”

“Almost.” sulked Chip.

“What was that? My feeble old dragon ears didn’t hear what you said, and my feeble dragon mind completely failed to understand.”

“No!” answered Chip, a little louder.

“No what? I didn’t quite catch that, because...” Sharptooth crossed his eyes and let his tongue and wings hang limp, “I’m thoo thtupid to underthtand coth I’m jutht a big thlobbery dragon. Bleearrrrrggghhh!”

“Daaaaaad! Stop iiiit! You’re embarassing! Celestia’s Beard! Yes I’d like to go to the fair! No I don’t want to be grounded!”

Sharptooth snapped back to normal, eyes uncrossing. He grinned as Chip emerged from the covers, still sniffling and puffy-eyed but in a much better disposition. “I’m very glad to hear it. Come on, though, you’ve got to help me make supper tonight.”

“Awww!”

“Because...”

“Why?”

“Bleaaarrgghhh-coth! I’m tho thtupid a dragon! Bleeaarrrgggghhh!”

Daaaaadddd!

♦♦♦

Chip helped around the kitchen. He carried things with his mouth, he whisked and he chopped and he mixed. He even had the embarrassing chore of lifting Sharptooth’s wing up and down like a bellows, which the dragon insisted was necessary for him to make the fire.

Finally, the food was ready. Sharptooth called it a vegetable risotto. Chip wasn’t very sure. Rice, some oddly flavourful vegetables... the fact it was the vegetable kind made him wonder what other blends there were. It was, however, hot and nourishing.

“Ah! This is the good stuff. Dig in.”

Chip eyed it nervously, but decided he liked it. He eyed Sharptooth suspiciously as the dragon grated some black powder over his own. “Can... can I have some of that?”

“This? Why, I...”

“Please?”

“I’m not sure you’ll like it... oh fine, there’s more in the kitchen if you don’t.” Sharptooth twisted the top on the pepper mill - at least it looked like a pepper mill, but the black spice didn’t smell like black pepper.

Chip tasted it carefully. An earthy sort of taste, kind of softly spicey. “Can I have a little more?”

Sharptooth, bemused, added some more. Chip’s ears pricked up and he proceeded to wolf it down.

“Would you like to try some other draconic spices?” the dragon interrupted.

“Yesh pleash!” said Chip, mouth full.

Sharptooth laughed, and disappeared into a small pantry. He returned with a couple of small boxes. The first opened to a strange white powder, it looked a little bit like salt but... shinier. The second held something dark reddish-pink. The old dragon took a pinch of each and added them lightly to the meal, then he motioned for Chip to try it. “If you don’t, you don’t have to eat it. Just a little, you’ve not had spices quite like these before.”

Chip once again eyed his bowl. There wasn’t too much of his food left, and now it glittered oddly. He took a mouthful, the spices were... gritty, yet... he chewed, they were quite unlike anything he’d ever had before. He took another mouthful, and another. Before he knew it, the risotto had gone. He leaned back on his haunches and belched. Eyes going wide, he covered his mouth with a hoof, so rude!

Sharptooth guffawed, leaned back and belched too, only louder. Some flame shot towards the ceiling. “Beat that.”

Chip blinked, squinted his eyes, wriggled, and then belched.

“Oh well done. I was wondering if I’d have to teach you that, I’m glad to see that ponies don’t all ignore common niceties. I am honoured you think so much of my cooking.”

“Burping’s good?”

“Aye, lad, and I thank you for the compliment. Mmm, after a meal like that, I could do with a sleep. Makes me almost miss my days when it was all the rage for sleeping on your hoard. It was the done thing to pillage, eat your fill and then sleep for a week or two. Far less civilized, but fun in its own way.”

“Dragons have hoards? Really?” Chip looked around at the modest house. They’d mixed up some quick-plaster for the hole he’d made in the wall, and it would need to be painted, but even ignoring that the house wasn’t exactly full with the gold and jewels he’d expected.

“We do, though I’m a modest sort of dragon. My hoard is less... flashy, but far more meaningful. Would you... would you like to see it?”

Chip nodded and got up, his belly full and swaying, to follow the dragon.

♦♦♦

The dragon led the way deeper into his strange house in the cliff-face. It was almost a warren, really, with the main parts heated and furnished but far more ‘under the covers’ as it were. They came at last to a big door, it was made of some hard wood that felt almost like stone.

“Petrified granite-wood, Chip, spellbound to open only to me, and now to you.”

“Me too?”

“Of course! You’re a dragon now, you deserve somewhere to put your own hoard.”

Chip rolled his eyes in the darkness, he really didn’t always understand his new father. He watched with interest as the great door swung open silently. He hadn’t heard a lock catch, but he somehow felt one open. With a wave of a paw, magefire torches burst into blue-white flame. The door swung shut of its own accord, and Chip took a good look around.

“Welcome, son, to my inner sanctum. Here I have stored all my treasures and a few other keepsakes for other people, dragons mostly but a few ponies and griffons. Few places are safer than the home of a dragon, and few places more secure than his or her hoard.”

“Woah...” Chip looked around, stepping carefully into the huge cavern. There was treasure, but surprisingly little. Many plain bits lay in careful piles, most were the almost-faceless round bits of Equestria. Others he saw had griffons, ponies and dragons on them. There were paintings, sculptures, and more than a few flying machine models that were little but ugly first attempts, masses of glue and mistakes. Chip smiled at them. They must mean a lot, he reasoned. Maybe one day his would be here?

“Like it?”

Chip nodded, he could spend an entire day in this space and never see it all. “What’s this?” Chip pointed to a case with a single butterfly in it, one of the largest he’d ever seen.

“This butterfly is a beautiful, sad, wonderful individual. They spend years as a grub, lad. Most of them are eaten, or just die, so very few make it past this stage. One day though, they just... swell up and cocoon. They lay in their cocoon in the cold earth for many more years, just waiting. Then, one day, and I don’t know what the signal is, they all burst forth and for just one single day, they are butterflies. They live their entire life in the span of one day, they mate, and then they lay their eggs, and die. The males, like this one, will often fasten themselves to a prominent place and die there, wings spread. I think it is so that their natural enemies are just as likely to take the dead as the living, and so further ensure the survival of their species. I think it is rather noble, glorious, and ever so sad.”

Chip looked at it, at the colours, the swirls, the patterns. It was very pretty. “And... what’s this? And what’s in there?”

Sharptooth drew closer to Chip, and put a paw around his withers, “This... is my egg.”

The dragon picked it up gingerly, and turned it around in his claws. “Very few dragons keep their egg. Mother was... sentimental. I have the whole egg, rebuilt with a little magic.”

Chip could see the faint cracks. “Your own?”

“Oh yes. I was... the only one. Dragon eggs are... special. Dragons are special, my boy, to the right - or rather the wrong - people.”

Chip tore his eyes away from the pearly object that seemed to be gently glowing, “Why?”

“Our bones are said to be an aphrodisiac. Our scales grant beauty, our horns strength. Our hearts wisdom, our eyes farsight. Our eggs... our eggs are said to contain the essence of a dragon, doubly so for an unhatched one. The clutch I was born from, the last clutch she could bear... my mother saved only one, me.”

“What happened?”

“The poachers were killed and eaten, their village was razed to the ground and their kith and kin were hounded to the ends of the realm. You do not simply murder forty nine dragons and walk away from it. My brothers and sisters remains, what was left after the dragonfire cooled, were saved in that chest.”

Chip turned to look at the smallish metallic chest. That hadn’t been what he’d meant, but it had been what he expected. He walked towards the chest and opened it with a hoof. It was full to the brim with shells, cracked dragon-egg shells.

“Dragons are lonely creatures, son, most of the time. A family, though... for that brief time, a dragon knows family.”

Chip turned back to see Sharptooth crying. He licked the dragon’s eyes, cleaning away the tears, a very pony way of comforting.

“They also say a dragon’s tears are a panacea.”

“It makes me feel better, sometimes.” Chip whispered.

Sharptooth smiled, and picked up his son, holding him tight.

Eventually, they broke the hug. “I have something for you. A bit sad, perhaps, a bit happy.”

“What?”

“Your things arrived. I arranged for your belongings to be packed up and delivered here, along with this.” Sharptooth brought forth a scroll.

“What’s that?”

“The last will and testament of the Irontail Family. I have taken the liberty of seeing to the mundane needs of the state as its de-facto executor. Mining, smelting, rock farming - all these shall continue. If you will allow it, I shall administer them in your name and appoint a worthy manager. That is, of course, unless you wish to take a firm hoof already. It would be your right.”

Chip looked at the scroll, his eyes going wide, “I-I-I don’t know the first thing about any of that!”

“Well then, with your permission, I shall see to your best interests. You may hire from my treasury any external inspector, wages paid in advance from the Irontail Family Funds, which are currently held in trust for you.”

Chip fell onto his haunches. “I don’t want any of that!”

“Then you may leave it to me, but, and this is important, it belongs to you.” The dragon stared into Chip’s eyes for a moment, before nodding and snorting, “as do those.” He pointed at a large collection of cases.

“What’s all that?”

“Really, I have no idea, but it’s a good start for a hoard. Shall we take a look?”

♦♦♦

Chip finished putting the final touches to his room. His room. He liked the sound of that. There were now Wonderbolts pictures on the wall, fillies and colts, and the logo for the Neighvada Roughshods, the local hoofball team from where he lived... from where he used to live, he corrected himself. There was also a picture of him and his parents, from when he was smaller. As he looked at it, he stretched out a hoof to stroke it. He knocked the picture over, and it fell against the model flying machine, which fell on the floor and broke into several more pieces.

Chip sighed, there was nothing for it but to pick up the pieces and start again. He spied the glue on the desk, and smiled, his ears flicking forwards. The first piece for his hoard from his new home. He didn’t care how well it was made, he could always make another, the point was it would be special.

Sharptooth found him there several hours later as the dragon knocked gently on the door and opened it when there was no answer. He was carrying a cup of some hot drink. “You should get to bed, little one.”

“I’ve almost finished it...”

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, please, just... hold this bit.” Chip proferred the offending piece, pointing with a hoof. The dragon took careful hold in his paws, holding it in the indicated way. Chip squeezed out some glue with the bottle in his mouth. A little too much spurted out, but at least it would hold. Sharptooth breathed a tiny jet of warmth at it to help it dry just that little bit quicker. When he took his paws off, it had set.

“Done!”

Sharptooth smiled. The broken model was fixed, good as new - better in fact, it was now complete. “We shall find the perfect place for it, young dragon, but now,” Sharptooth watched as the foal yawned, “now it really is time for bed. Will you sleep in your own bed tonight?”

“Uh-huh.” Chip yawned again and clambered up, turning around and around, his little tail flicking eagerly, before he burrowed into the blanket nest.

Sharptooth nuzzled the little one, then carefully walked downstairs. He clambered into his weir and settled, breathing deeply. Alone at last. The whole weir all to himself.

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

clip-clop, clip-clop...

drag-drag-thump...

Sharptooth opened his eyes and lifted a wing as the door opened. Silently he laughed as he made room for the little pony-shaped dragon. “You’re getting a little too old for this, but... maybe for tonight. Just for tonight.” said Sharptooth, but his admonishment was only met with snores.

♦♦♦