• Published 26th Feb 2020
  • 6,396 Views, 676 Comments

Our Little Brother, Spike - Hope Caster



Finding a whelp cold and alone after hatching season, Amber Ironscale brings the poor thing back to her cave and adopts him, giving him the name Heathspike, Spike for short. Her son, Garble, vows to be the best big brother he can be, no matter what.

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Chapter 9: Slash

It was late in the day by the time Spike returned home. Garble, still sore, ate an early dinner before falling into a deep, well-earned sleep. Not Spike though. No, he needed to proclaim his brother’s greatness, like a priest proclaiming the greatness of his god.

“You should have seen him!” Spike cried, looking up at his parents. “He was like, ‘HA!’, and Arrow was punched and then he was like ‘RAH!’ Arrow couldn’t even get up after Garble was finished with him!” Spike began throwing several punches at the air, in an attempt to imitate his brother, before quickly becoming winded and falling on his stomach. “He was so cool!” He gave Smolder a smirk. “I bet you didn’t get to fight. You probably stood around being cute.”

Smolder huffed at the accusation, offended that Spike thought at all that she did it just to be cute. She went to the gathering because she drew more attention than other whelps her age. Did she look cute? Of course, but that was just an unfortunate side effect of looking better than her friends. Her eyes narrowed. “I can fight now!”

Hearing the challenge, Spike immediately pounced on his sister. They rolled around on the floor, until Spike was pinned on his chest, with Smolder holding his head still with one claw while her knee was planted firmly on the middle of his back.

“Wait, Smolder, don’t! It’s annoying!” Spike begged. Smolder, with a most evil and psychotic grin, began to press her finger against Spike’s tiny, button nose, eliciting a loud, adorable no.

While his niece and nephew played, Smog explained Garble’s fight in proper detail, starting from his confrontation with Arrow, but leaving out the part where he was beaten by Ember. When his story was finished, Flare once again beamed with pride.

“As if there was any doubt that he’d win. I’m glad that he put Firefang’s brat in his place!” Flare used the tip of his claw to gently pat Garble’s back. “Just you wait Smog. One day, the whelps of this land will be following Dragon Lord Garbuncle Ironscale!”

Garble’s body shifted upon hearing the title, and a small smile slowly formed. In his dreams, he could already see himself sitting atop a gilded throne, holding the Bloodstone Scepter with a jeweled, platinum crown adorning his head. At his right hand was Spike, adorned in armor serving as his ever-loyal enforcer, and at his left Smolder. He didn’t know why, nor did he know what her purpose was, but she was in a dress, happy. If she was happy though, then that was all he needed. Though he didn’t know it, he would soon have a chance to make his dream a reality in just ten years.

Soon, Amber effortlessly pried Spike and Smolder apart, rescuing Spike from his sister’s boops. Their fight was becoming rather loud, and she'd prefer it if Garble could get his rest. “That’s enough. Get something to eat, both of you, then bed.” She received disappointed murmurs from her children but was obeyed none the less. She went to thank Smog only to find him with the biggest, self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“So, did I do good today?” He asked.

She snorted, sending two thick clouds of smoke crashing into him. “You did adequately, at best.”

Smog inched his head closer. “Think I could take him out again tomorrow?”

He must have turned a few heads today. It could be the only reason that he was asking to look after Spike again. What irked her was her inability to think of an actual excuse. While his reason for doing it was unpalatable, she couldn't deny that Smog did knew how to care for whelps, and who loved playing with them, never growing irritated or apathetical. For dragonesses, finding a dragon who was kind and loving towards whelps, and strong, was akin to finding a trove of fire rubies. “Smog-”

“Can he?!” Spike asked, sprinting towards his uncle and mother. Amber turned to see her son bouncing in place, biting his lower lip as he smiled, and giving her the biggest, brightest eyes in the world. “It was really fun!”

Bahamut have mercy on her, why did he bless her son with those eyes? They were the types of eyes she had trouble saying no to when the request was reasonable. Extra dessert? Not on his young life. Going out to play with his uncle? She struggled just considering saying no. He was so happy, too happy to say no to. “Fine, but only if you take Smolder along, if she’s willing to go.” Amber could trust her daughter to keep an eye on Spike, if not completely derail Smog's plans to use them, just in case his got distracted. The likely chance that she would embarrass Smog in front of his prospective mates was icing on the cake.

“Of course she can come. The more the merrier!”

Spike let out an excited squee before hurrying to his spot, snuggling close to his sister, eager for tomorrow to come. He closed his eyes, only to open them not a moment later. “You heard that, right? Can you come?” He whispered.

She let out a yawn. “Yeah, I can.” She couldn't say no, not that she wanted to. After a day like today, Garble usually rested, so it would just be her and Spike. She even had a game they could play, Claw Tag. Garble came up with it when she was about Spike’s age, in an effort to help her dodge and attack swiftly. With Garble’s brawl filling him with energy, Claw Tag was perfect to help Spike vent it, and with Smog watching them, there was a way to play without being caught. “I actually have a fun game we can play!”

Spike let out a small squeak of excitement. He quickly forced his eyes shut and began to dream about all the fun he and his sister would have, knowing that tomorrow was going to be the best day ever.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.


The next day, Smog brought Spike and Smolder to the play area early in the morning. The older dragon couldn’t help but chuckled to himself as Smolder and Spike chewed on his tail. Amber had to be trying to help him find a mate; there was no other reason to send such a well-behaved Smolder along with him. Looking after Spike for an afternoon turned a few heads, but looking after both Spike and Smolder? Single dragons would be lining up to just talk with him. If only Garble was with them. Alas, he was helping his mother tend to her garden while he recovered from yesterday's fight. Amber had been taking care of a plot of land for half a century now, harvesting the plants she grew for Topaz to use for various remedies.

The game he was playing was simple, Smog would lazily draw the tip of his tail across the ground, expecting them to just chase it down together. To his surprise, they didn’t. They instead worked as a coordinated team. Smolder would take point, chasing the tail, but at the same time, leading it towards Spike who tried to ambush it. When it was caught by one, he allowed the other to jump in as well.

Afterwards they would climb up his body and attack, slashing at his hide and nipping him, and hanging on tight once he tried to shake them off. Not that he was trying to hurt them. If they ever did fall, they conveniently landed on his tail or claw. Once they reached his neck, neither whelp showed mercy. With powerful bites delivered to his throat, they slew him, only for the game to begin again, with Smog increasing the difficulty.

Spike was the one to climb up and reach the back of his uncle's neck this round, while Smolder ran interference, biting down and pulling on Smog's tail tip to garner his attention. When he was in position, Spike let out a mighty, adorable roar before sinking his fangs into his uncle's flesh.

The moment he felt his nephew lightly bite down on his hide, Smog let out an overly dramatic cry, before he fell on his side, his body hitting the stone floor with a crash. He stayed still for a few moments, waiting for Spike and Smolder to climb off him before carefully turning himself onto his stomach. “Good job, both of you!” He said. There was a sudden applause originating from a nearby cliffside, making Spike and Smolder’s cheeks flush red. Smog could see the annoyance on Smolder’s face, while his nephew seemed to enjoy the attention, most likely because the cheers came from a group of attractive dragonesses. “Want to go again?”

Smolder began to think for a moment, before leaning over and whispering something to Spike. Smog didn’t know why, but Spike’s expression lit up. He could only watch as his nephew stumbled over towards him.

“Uncle Smog, can Smolder and I play by ourselves for a little bit? She says she wants to train.”

The excited smile he had on his face was too pure for the world. How could he say no? Smog smiled back and nodded. “You may but be careful. I don’t want anything happening to the two of you.” They nodded and ran off, their giggles and snickers filling the air, infecting any whelp that heard.

‘So that’s why Amber wanted me to bring Smolder,’ Smog thought to himself. He should have known. Smolder usually hated being used in any capacity for any reason. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Alone, Smog looked towards the western cliffside, towards the dragonesses that had applauded his niece and nephew. They were whispering to each other. One took notice of his staring, breaking into giggles as she said something to her friends before waving at him.

He waved back, earning himself a few giggles, blushes, and another round of whispers, but they never took their eyes off him. He glanced towards his niece and nephew. Spike was darting around Smolder, likely excited for whatever activity she had planned. Now was the perfect chance to mingle for a few minutes. Slicking back his spines, he made his way towards them.


“So what are we going to do?”

“It’s a game Garble came up with: Claw Tag,” Smolder said.

“You mean, like, fight each other using our claws?”

“Yeah! First to get hit loses, and it’s best two of three.”

Instantly, Spike stopped dead in his tracks. “Smolder, we’re not allowed to use our claws, remember what Mama said?”

“Yeah, but we’re Ironscales, it won’t matter.” She understood his reluctance. She was the same way when Garble suggested it to her, but they were Ironscales. Their scales couldn't be pierced unless they had the claws of a Steelspine. She managed to hit Garble twice and nothing happened to him. She knew Spike wanted to play, he just needed a small push. A devious smile spread across Smolder’s face. “And Mama said we’re not allowed to use them in the cave. We’re not in the cave.” She looked back towards Smog, making sure that he was preoccupied. Turning back, she saw an equally devious grin appear on Spike’s lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She was ecstatic to see Spike nod.

It felt right being the one to play the game with Spike. Garble had six years on him. It wasn't fair in the slightest, but Smolder? She was bigger than Spike, but not that big. She was a fairer match for him by a mile. She’d still hold back just a little bit. Afterall, she was swifter and more agile than Spike, winning without giving him a chance to fight would just be mean.

The game began with Smolder and Spike facing each other about four yards apart. Next, Smolder began to hit her tail against the ground. Once the count reached twenty, they would begin. In the meantime, both whelps began to strategize, or rather they fantasized about how’d they would win spectacularly, and be praised by everyone they ever knew for doing so.

The final slam seemed to echo across the field, and the two began to sprint towards each other. However, Spike came to a sliding stop, dug his claws deep into the ground, and threw a mass of dirt into the air.

Smolder quickly clenched her eyes shut and pivoted, turning her back to the cloud. It’d take only a few moments for the cloud to dissipate, then she’d- Smolder let out a gasp as she felt a claw slide down her back. She turned to see her brother beaming, cheeks puffy, with the sweetest pair of eyes he had. Did he just win? He’d just won.

“Bu-I-huh? Where’d you learn that?!” Smolder cried.

“It’s how Garble won his fight yesterday!”

“But that doesn’t count!” Smolder cried out. “Claw tag is supposed to be about agility and stuff, not throwing dirt! You need to treat it like a real fight!”

“But Garble threw dirt in a real fight.”

Spike was too clever for his own good. “No dirt throwing.” She said firmly.

Spike grumbled to himself, but obeyed. She probably just didn’t want to admit he won that round without really trying.

They took their places across each other again and the count began. On the twentieth strike, they rushed towards one another, only for Spike’s foot to hit a stone and fall face first into the ground. She could hear soft whimpers as he pushed himself off the floor, and her sisterly instincts kicked in. She ran to him, helped him to his knees, made sure that he was unharmed, and as thanks, Spike slashed her across her chest. It was a tiny swipe, but one that was unmistakable. She could only give her little brother a confused, betrayed look.

Spike sniffled as tears welled in his eyes, but quickly steeled himself. “You-you said we n-needed to treat it like a re-real fight!” Spike said, lips trembling. “Why would you help me if this is a real fight?” There was a pause. “Can I have a nuzzle?”

Smolder couldn’t think of an excuse, for either question. A quick nuzzle helped calm him down and he was back on his feet. She wasn’t even mad really. He treated it like a real fight and she didn’t. They retook their places across from each other, and the count began a third time. Smolder cleared her mind. Spike was not her brother; he was her opponent. If he got hurt, she could tend to him after tagging him.

When the match began, Smolder immediately put Spike on the defensive. He managed to avoid her first swing, ducking down and hurriedly moving backwards. The second swipe just missed his nose, but Spike stumbled, and Smolder pushed herself forward, thrusting her claws forward. Spike moved his head, and she scarcely missed hitting the side of his neck, bringing her within arm’s length of him. Seeing an opening, Spike quickly struck, slashing his sister across her stomach.

“Tag!” Spike said, before his sister had time to think. He fell sitting and began to giggle to himself, before letting out a squee of joy, falling on his back and rolling around. When he finally regained control of himself he sat up. “So did I do good?” He leaned forward, as if expecting her to praise him.

“Y-yeah, you did great,” Smolder said, her voice cracking. She took two steps back and fell to her knees while Spike broke into a dance and cheered. She was a six-year-old dragon that just lost to a three-year-old. Half of her was proud of her brother, the other half needed to win a round. It had to be a case of beginner’s luck, either that or she was just too small. That was it. She was Spike’s equal, not his better, not yet anyway. Once she had a growth spurt like most whelps her age, she’d be stronger than him. Until then, she needed to stop underestimating him. “I want a third match!” Smolder said, standing tall. “I was just warming up!”

Spike became confused. “But I thought it’s over, I won. Best two of three.”

That was true, he did win. It’s not like a third match would change that. It would let her salvage her pride though. She just needed to offer something. “Exactly, it’s not like it’s gonna change anything.” She could see Spike thinking about it, she just needed to give him an extra push. “If you win, you’ll get my dessert for the next week.” Seeing her little brother’s eyes turn to saucers, she knew she’d get her rematch.

“The next week?” Spike could feel his mouth watering. Smolder always managed to get a good-sized gem for dessert. He’d already beaten her twice, what was the harm in fighting a third time? If he lost one match, he’d still have won the game, and if he won, he got extra dessert for a week. “Deal!”

She smiled as Spike hurried towards his starting point. Smolder took a deep breath as she readied herself. She was too small to hold back. She was quicker than Spike, she might as well use it to her advantage. The count went off a final time, and Smolder sprinted towards Spike as fast as she could.

Spike barely had time to react to his sister’s first slash. He managed to dodge at the last moment, ducking. The second slash was faster. Once again, Spike narrowly avoided the attack, however, he stumbled back and fell onto his rump. Smolder leapt forward and slashed at her brother a third time. He couldn’t dodge, but he wouldn’t just sit still. With his instincts taking over, Spike lifted his arms to protect himself, allowing Smolder’s claws to rake across them. The moment they did, her face fell, and her eyes widened in horror.

Spike didn’t feel any pain, but the look on Smolder’s face and the burning in his arms told him something was wrong. His ears began ringing as Smolder ran and began calling for their uncle. With heavy breaths and a quaking body, he slowly turned his arms towards his face. He took one look and began to wail.

Smog appeared by his side not a moment later, Smolder sitting atop his back. His mouth was dry, his heart seized, and his mind raced as he focused on his bleeding, wailing nephew. One thing was clear, he needed to get Spike help, now. Smog scooped him up, and before anyone knew it, they were all before a screaming Topaz.

“What in Bahamut’s name happened!?” The old dragon sneered, as she examined the gashes in Spike’s arms.

“He got scratched, I don’t know how. Just fix him, he’s bleeding!”

“Fix him, as if he’s a piece of damaged armor. Put him there,” She said, pointing to a large flat slab of rock. Smog did as he was told. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Topaz whistled, and there came a young, scampering dragon, a girl about sixteen. Her name was Gemstone Steelspine, Topaz’s current apprentice. Seeing Spike, she quickly tried to calm him down and comfort him while Topaz gathered supplies.

Meanwhile, Smog turned his attention towards Smolder. “Smolderessence, how did this happen?”

She didn’t know why, but her uncle using her full name frightened her more than when her mother used it. “I don’t know! We were playing Claw Tag-”

“Claw Tag, why would you think it okay to use your claws?”

“It’s more real that way!”

“It’s never okay to use your claws!” Smog shouted. “Smolder, that is the one rule that you do not break, ever!”

“It wasn’t supposed to matter, we’re Ironscales!” Smolder said.

Topaz’s ears perked. “What are you talking about, Spike isn’t-” Topaz had a horrifying realization. Her grandchildren honestly thought that Spike was an Ironscale. Topaz expression softened as she looked down at Spike, before hardening to stone. “Smolderessence, we will talk about this disobedience later. For now, I need help. Smog bring her over, put her near Spike. Gemstone, move aside for a moment. Good. Smolder, hold Spike tight, and don’t let go.”

Smolder did as she was told, wrapping her weeping brother in a tight hug, only for him to do the same to her, much to Topaz’s relief. She handed her apprentice a needle and thread. “Gemstone, careful now, just like we’ve practiced.” Gemstone knelt before the siblings, preparing to mend the wound. “Spike, Gemstone is going to start suturing the scratches on three. Ready? One.”

Gemstone released a held breath and quickly pierced Spike’s arms. The little drake let out a loud wail, the grip on his sister becoming tighter. Smolder started sniffling as she attempted to calm Spike. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” she whimpered. She had no actual idea if he was going to be okay. Her back felt wet, her brother was weeping and somehow, she’d cut through his hide. All she could do now was hold him.

An hour passed and soon Spike’s wounds were closed. Gemstone wiped the sweat from her brow, before giving Spike’s shoulder an assuring squeeze. “Just one last thing now. Hold still.” She took his arms and applied a stinging solution to them before wrapping them in clean bandages. Spike winced and whimpered, but the pain soon passed. “All finished,” she said with a sigh. “You were very brave, little one.”

“Thank you, Gemstone. You did well,” Topaz said.

She bowed her head before scuttling back into the deeper reaches of the cave.

Topaz lifted her grandchildren, whispering to them gently while Smog let out a low sigh of relief. “There, there, it’s over. You’re okay. No more tears.” Her gaze turned towards Smog. “You and I are going to see Amber and Flare, now.”

“I know.” He said solemnly, trying to imagine a scenario where Amber didn’t try to kill him. None came to mind. Though he forced himself to smile, his eyes begged for help. “Maybe with you there, she won’t be too mad.”


The moment Amber saw Spike’s arms in bandages, the shouting began. Smog was quick to explain what had happened, how he’d taken his eyes of Spike and Smolder, and how they decided to attack each other using their claws. The explanation served only to intensify Amber’s reaction. Worse, Topaz’s presence did nothing to temper Amber’s rage. The only dragon keeping her from clawing his eyes out was Flare, and he was struggling to hold her back.

“Amber, please, calm down!” He cried, his muscles tensing as he fought to keep his mate still. He feeling his hold on her weakening, Flare used his tail to swipe at her hind legs, tripping her and allowing him to pin her on her stomach. His claw firmly held the back of her head, trapping it in an Iron grip, while his other arm put pressure on her back. Doing so left sick feeling in his stomach, but it couldn’t be helped. If Amber attacked Smog, and Smog defended himself, there was no doubt in his mind that she’d get hurt, and if Smog hurt his mate, then he’d have to hurt Smog tenfold.

“I will geld you, you sorry excuse for a dragon!” Amber shrieked as she thrashed in Flare’s grip. “Endangering my son because you feel frisky; you will be lucky to look at any of my children again!” Amber’s shouts were accompanied by blazing streams of fire, hot enough to melt steal.

Flare couldn’t blame her for her emotional state. He himself nearly lost his composure upon seeing Spike bandaged. However, once Smog explained what had happened, he saw that he wasn’t entirely to blame. He’d been distracted, but Spike and Smolder were both disobedient. The fact that Spike thought he had an impenetrable hide didn’t help either.

“Smog, it’s best that you leave for now,” Flare said, pulling his mate towards the back of the cave. Smog nodded and quickly left, after apologizing again for what happened.

“Never come back!” Amber shouted before finally becoming still in her mate’s grasp. “Let Tiamat have him for all I care, horny bastard!”

While she wanted to try and calm her granddaughter down, Topaz knew that the best medicine for Amber’s emotional state was time. “I must leave as well,” Topaz said. “Flare, Spike is not to roughhouse for two weeks. Keep him close by and make sure he doesn’t scratch at his bandages.” She dropped a roll of bandages into his hand. “You may need to change his bandages. Have Garble use these when needed. If anything happens, come to my cave.”

“Understood,” Flare said, finally releasing Amber, who remained on the floor huffing.

“One more thing, very important.” Topaz grabbed Flare by his arm and pulled him close. “I know it’s difficult to talk about when they’re young, but he needs to know the truth. Tell him tonight considering his sister was able to slice his arms open.” Flare nodded and Topaz took her leave.

The cave fell silent, save for Spike and Smolder’s whimpers. Amber took one look, and saw Garble holding them close to him while they buried their faces in his scales. Between the screaming, Spike’s injuries, and seeing their father physically restraining her, the poor things were likely scared out of their minds. She took a deep breath and talked as calmly as she could. “Spike, Smolder, you two can look now, it’s over.” They slowly turned their faces towards her, revealing their bloodshot eyes, tearstained cheeks, and their tired faces. “I think you two are due for a nap,” she said, picking them up and depositing them near the back of the cave. A nap would do them good after the day they had. “When you wake up, your father and I need to have a talk with you.”

“Are we in trouble?” Smolder asked.

“Yes. What you two did was not only foolish, but dangerous. Smolder, what if you hit him somewhere else? As bad as his wounds are, they could have been worse. And Spike, you actively went along with it. You should have said no, and if she pestered you, told your uncle.”

“We didn’t think we’d get hurt,” Spike explained. “Ironscales are supposed to have super strong hides.”

“They do, but-” Amber paused. What was she supposed to say? ‘Not you, because you’re not a real Ironscale, surprise!’ “-We’ll talk about that later Spike. For now, get some rest.”

Seeing that his mother wouldn’t budge, Spike obeyed. He laid down, and Smolder curled up around him. As she settled down, she saw just the smallest red stain on his bandages. Her lip began to quiver and she wrapped her brother in a hug, pulling his back towards her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, gently sobbing. She repeated her apology until both fell asleep. Their rest didn’t last long, however. Soon, Spike’s woke up, feeling an itch in his bandages. He began to shift against Smolder, before lightly patting her cheek, waking her.

“Spike, what’s wrong?”

“My arms itch,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Smolder let out a yawn, and released Spike from her embrace. He reached down to scratch at his bandages, only to be stopped by his father’s voice.

“Don’t touch those. It might upset the wound.”

Spike obeyed, seeing the stern look on his father’s face. The whelps couldn’t help but gulp as their mother came to his side, wearing an equally stern look.

“Come here, both of you,” Flare said. They obeyed, albeit reluctantly. They sat before their parents and waited for their scolding and punishment. “I want you both to take a good look at those bandages. This is why we say no claws. Your claws are natural weapons, if you’re not careful someone could get hurt, like today. Spike, there’ll be scars, and I can’t imagine that you’ll forget what it felt like for your grandmother to mend your arms. Let them remind you why you need to be careful.” He smiled, upon seeing the disheartened look on Spike’s face. He gently nudged Spike’s cheek. “It’s not all bad though, dragonesses go crazy for scars.” Flare silenced himself upon receiving a glare from his mate.

“Both of you are grounded for two weeks,” Amber said. “Spike, no roughhousing, and Smolder, no gatherings, understood?” The whelps nodded sadly. “Good. We’re not trying to be cruel; we’re doing this because we love you both.”

“I know. Mama, why did I get hurt?” Spike asked.

“What do you mean, Spike? You got hurt because you disobeyed an important rule.”

“I know, but Papa and Uncle Smog say they get scratched all the time; they never get hurt. Garble got scratched, and he was fine. Same with Smolder, I managed to scratch her three times! Why did I get hurt? Ironscales aren’t supposed to get hurt.”

Her son’s name was Ironscale, and he was her son, but he was not a true Ironscale, not in the way he thought. “Did you two know that mamas have to lay their children’s eggs?” As she expected, the revelation puzzled them. They were still under the impression that eggs were given to parents by Bahamut himself.

“But you said-”

“We know what we told you. That’s just a story we tell younger whelps,” Flare said.

“Yes. The truth is that the eggs come from inside mothers. When a mother lays an egg, it’s one the most wonderful and frightening things that she can ever do. That little, tiny egg is so fragile, and carrying something so precious.” She recalled the day she laid Garble and Smolder’s egg, how worried she was carrying them to the hatchery, how happy she was the day they hatched and she brought them home. They were almost as small as Spike the day she found him. Amber wiped the growing tears from her eyes, still smiling. Looking down at her son, her smile faded. “However, there are times when a hatchling is left alone for one reason or another, and a mother takes them in, despite not hatching them. She and her mate adopt them.”

“Mama, what does that have to do with why I got hurt?”

“It’s because I didn’t lay your egg, Heathspike.”

“You didn’t?”

Amber watched as the confusion in her son’s eyes grew. There must have been countless questions going through his head. “No. I was sent to clean the eggshells from the nursery three years ago, and there I found you. You were alone, and so I brought you home with me.”

“If you didn’t lay his egg, how is he an Ironscale?” Smolder asked.

“It’s because Spike was made a part of our clan,” Flare interjected. “He’s like your mother in that regard. She’s Amber Ironscale, but lacks the clan’s ability.”

“S-so, I don’t have an impenetrable hide?” Spike asked.

“No, Spike, you don’t.” Amber could only watch as Spike became despondent.

“Why was he left alone?” Smolder asked. “You said mamas usually take their hatchlings home as soon as they’re hatched!”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. No one ever came looking, so he became a part of our family.” She looked towards Spike. “Garble certainly loved you the moment that I brought you home, and Smolder fell in love with you the moment she held you. Your father and I did to, though he was a bit nervous to admit it.” She glanced towards Flare, who was lowering his head in shame and embarrassment. Spike, however looked puzzled.

“Why was that?”

“For the first month, he was worried he’d get attached, and then someone would come to take you. If that happened, he didn’t know how he’d cope. Neither of us did.”

“Someone can just take me away?!” Spike nearly shouted. “But I don’t wanna go!”

Smolder, just thinking about Spike being taken away, quickly pulled him into her embrace. She was growling, guarding him like he was a gem from her hoard. “He’s my little brother, no one should be able to just take him!”

“Thankfully they can’t,” Amber said, desperate to ease their worry. “The Dragon Lord had the sense to name you a member of our family a month after I found you. No one can ever take you away, Spike.” The two of them relaxed, though Smolder still held him close.

“Does Garble know?” She asked.

“He does. He found out when Spike became an Ironscale. I had a talk with him to explain what it meant to take Spike in.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I said to him that sometimes families get to make a wonderful choice. When someone’s alone, who needs a family and love, we can choose to be their family and love them. When I brought you home, Spike, that’s what we did, and we’ve loved you every day since.”

Spike pulled himself out of Smolder’s embrace and pattered towards his mother, hugging her snout when he got close. “I’m happy you’re my mama.”

Amber smiled, putting a single claw against his back. “I’m happy I get to be your mother.”

Spike let go of his mother. “Mama, did you mean what you said to Uncle Smog? I don’t want him to stop visiting.”

Amber turned her head as her face twisted into a scowl brought on by a deep annoyance. Of course Spike was worried about seeing his uncle again, because why wouldn’t he be? Her son was too kind for his own good. She forced a neutral expression. “No. I may have been overreacting when I saw you were hurt. I want changes though. If he can keep a constant eye on you, I might consider letting him spend time with you.”

“Ok. Can I ask one more question?”

“You may, as long as it doesn’t relate to your uncle.”

“What’s my special power?”

Amber was confused for but a moment, only to realize that he meant his clan’s ability. Every dragon had one. Some were obvious, others more subtle, and every ability was useful. “I don’t know, Spike, but now may not be the best time to wonder about that. You’ll have plenty of time to find out once you’re better, and only once you’re better.”

Spike became slightly disheartened, but Smolder quickly chimed in. “It’s probably gonna be cooler than what we have,” She said. “Oh, maybe you have superhot fire breath, or you can climb walls like a lizard, or use your tail like a spear!” Smolder continued naming random abilities she’d heard about, each more outlandish and bombastic than the last.

It had a noticeable effect on Spike though. Already he perked up and his mind was racing, creating endless abilities he might have. Some were realistic, like a form of advanced camouflage, while other abilities were fantastic and impossible, like energy shields he could conjure with his mind. “We should try and see what it is now!” He heard his mother clear her throat and turned to see the stern look on her face. “I mean, after I’m better.”

And with that, Spike had a new activity to look forward to. However, what the ability was wasn’t too important, what mattered was it would be the three of them: him, Smolder and Garble discovering it. But that could wait. Like his mother said, he could worry about it after his wounds healed.