Unnatural Selection

by Karkadinn

Be Our Guest

Be Our Guest

The empty road ended at a cul-de-sac that looked like someone had decided to design a neighborhood after the fanciest wedding cake ever. A single immense house-like building sprawled out, two wings coming forward around a garden with pony-shaped bushes and marble fountains. The entire estate was surrounded by a tiny little ornamental white plank fence, and the grass here was even lusher than he'd seen so far: a dark, rich green that reminded Spike of spinach.

And in that place, ponies and nonponies mingled freely. They picked flowers together, engaged in conversation while shaded by frilly parasols, shared meals and even played some sort of racquet and ball game in a far court over to one side. Diamond dogs and earth ponies, griffins and pegasi, dragons and unicorns. Minotaurs, donkeys, zebras, gazelles, camels. There was even a changeling intently reading a newspaper while siphoning a little love off of a nearby pony couple... apparently with their permission. More kinds of creatures together than Spike had seen in his whole life. With ponies. So many ponies. Everyone seemed happy and very much not interested in immediately murdering each other. All the nonponies shared one common trait: matching bracelets draped with tan-brown little squares of paper, each with a bracelet roughly to their size.

It was surreal.

Spike gawked, clutching the bent up bracelet to his chest like a teddy bear, eyes roaming over impossible sight after impossible sight. How could a place like this ever exist and him not hear about it? Never, never EVER, had anyone ever said anything about ponies just calling off their whole 'anything that isn't a pony is on the menu' ideals to just interact with them normally. This wasn't an inn, this was heaven!

His brain clicked back on after a bit. Would they just treat him like the rest of these nonponies if he walked up? How much could he admit to being clueless before they got suspicious, and would it even matter that he was totally ignorant? Would the bracelet being pre-owned and obviously damaged invalidate the apparent immunity to pony hunger that it gave? Would the griffin chase him all the way here?

Now that he thought about it, he hoped she was okay. He'd basically taken the thing that was supposed to keep ponies from eating her, even if it'd been an accident. If they were understanding, she could just explain that she'd been 'robbed' or whatever, but Spike had no clue as to whether or not they'd care. This was brand-new territory for him.

Worst came to worst, she looked like a fast enough flier to get out of town in a hurry if she had to. Faster than him, and he'd gotten this far. He kept telling himself that, trying to make himself feel less guilty, but it didn't work so well.

It'd been an accident. Wasn't his fault. Who would blame him, really? There was no one who cared about him enough to be disappointed.

Taking in a shaky breath, he looked over the happy, crazy Inn and tried to decide what to do next. There wasn't anything that he could do that wasn't risky, so it was just a matter of how much he wanted to risk. Just walking out there in the middle of them? No, he wasn't ready for that. Who knew what would happen. He wasn't even ready to stop freaking out over the changeling yet, let alone the ponies. He'd never seen a changeling before; the creepy little thing looked like a pony made out of rot-blackened holey cheese.

Maybe he could corner a visitor or a servant or something one on one. That way, if things went south he wouldn't be too overwhelmed when he had to book it. That sounded about right. But who to pick? Diamond dogs weren't known to be very bright or friendly, griffins could be feisty, minotaurs were kinda scary. A fellow dragon might work out for the best. On the other hand, it might look suspicious if he started talking to the guests before the ponies, who seemed to be in fancy servantish positions, handing off lemonades and stuff. There were a lot more unicorns than other ponies, did that mean anything? Maybe he was overthinking it and should just charge in there and...

“Goodness gracious, darling, whatever are you doing cowering over there in the bushes? It's your first time at the Inn, isn't it? I just know I would remember a darling fellow like you.”

Spike was very proud of the simple fact that he managed to avoid wetting himself. He straightened himself up and slowly looked over at the unicorn who was addressing him, more by shifting his eyes than his head, and managed a grin that was probably coming across as super fake and cheesy. Wow, she was actually a looker, as far as carnivorous hooved monsters went. For the first time ever, he wished that he had hair to style. And she'd addressed him like a normal person! No 'Hi, can I eat you' or any of that junk! Maybe this would work out.

“Yes, yes, this is my first time, as a matter of fact.” His smile was too big. It had to look creepy, the corners of his mouth were aching from it. Tone it down a notch, Spike, showing your teeth was bound to give ponies bad ideas. There we go. “I'm sorry, I just, um, got a little lost, yeah, and...” A flash of genius struck him. “And some crazy pony with a rainbow mane broke my bracelet!”

The unicorn gasped in a high, loud pitch with an impressive amount of suction, adorable dark eyes widening. Wait. Pony eyes weren't adorable! Just because they were all big and sparkly and... moist-looking. He was totally coming unraveled, all the stress and hunger had to be getting to him.

“How mortifying! I keep telling that, that ruffian to pay more attention to who she hunts, but the dratted pegasus has cloud for brains, I swear! She will be appropriately reprimanded, I assure you! My sincerest apologies, my good dragon, I will personally see to it that a replacement is issued right away. It should be ready by breakfast tomorrow at the very latest.”

She was... apologizing to him?

“Ah, you should probably keep holding on to that poor beat-up thing, just in case any other roustabout lowlifes become troublesome. Not that we see many non-pony folk walking around Ponyville to begin with, of course,” she added dryly with a meaningful tilt of her head, “but it would be simply dreadful if anything happened to one of our guests because of a simple misunderstanding! Why, I simply couldn't live with myself. I worry so that it keeps me up at night as it is, wondering if they will all manage the trip hither and thither in safety.”

She was... worried about people like him?

“Are you sure you're quite alright, dear? You seem to be quite, ah... scuffy. Oh, here, let me just get that for you...”

The unicorn licked her hoof and ran it in semicircles over Spike's cheek, and he tensed inside, the sudden, completely unexpected sensation like a jolt of electricity to his system. Instead of being a precursor to being taste-tested, he realized that she was cleaning a smudge off of his scales. He blinked a few times, unable to believe it even though it was really happening, right now.

Spike looked over this white unicorn with her mane like endless curls of... of, something purple, not grapes, something ELEGANT that he was too stupid to think of the word for, and he saw something he'd never seen before. A pony who might not be an enemy. She looked at him, mostly composed but with a hint of anxiety behind her politeness, shifting from hoof to hoof in a way that he could not stop himself from admitting was unbelievably cute. Then he remembered she was waiting on him to reply. What had the question been again? Oh yeah. Was he alright?

“I'm fine now,” he said quietly, looking around and taking reassurance from the fact that even though everyone knew he was there, they weren't doing anything. The ponies were going about their business, the other 'guests' still doing their own things. The only eyes anyone had for him were full of simple restrained curiosity, and only a little of it, at that.

“I'm so very pleased to hear that. As per our exacting standards for greeting newcomers to our humble establishment, I'll have the invitational musical number up momentarily. Please help yourself to any of our twelve varieties of tea out on the patio, and do remember the Rules in the meantime. On behalf of the Inn, the general Ponyville environs, the country and, indeed, Her Princess Herself, I, Rarity maîtresse de l'élevage, humbly welcome you to Equestria.”

She bowed her head to him while he was busy trying to figure out what a musical number had to do with anything and what the 'Rules' were. Spike tried not to gawk too much more, but it was hard. A pony was bowing to him. A pony was being polite to him. A pony was treating him like an equal. A pony was, plain and simple, not trying to kill and eat him.

“I-It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rarity. I'm Spike.”

“Spike! What a charmingly robust draco-ethnic name.” He blushed as they shook hand-to-hoof, her lashes batting at him. He had no idea what she meant with every sentence that came out of her mouth, and somehow she was still turning his insides into ooze. In a good way. “I beg your pardon for the wait, but it won't be a moment, dear.”

He sat down at an empty table and helped himself to a pitcher of sweetened tea and devoured an entire bowl of garlic-and-butter biscuity things, which instantly made his stomach feel tons better. Just when he'd started considering getting into another conversation, maybe bugging a guest about what the 'Rules' were so he could avoid breaking them, Rarity came back with a small herd of other unicorns, each of them levitating musical instruments, except for Rarity herself, who had a conductor's baton.

And then they started singing.

♪Be our guest

Be our guest

Put our maaaagic to the test!

Bring a heart that's full of wonder

And let us pooonies do the rest!♪

Spike couldn't decide whether he was amazed or terrified before that thing that he previously knew to be reality intruded upon the elaborate song-and-dance setup. Screaming, the whistle of sharp-torn wind, wood being demolished. Incoming violence. As the song slowed and stuttered while Rarity simply glared at them and tried to keep them performing with her clenched-teeth smile, Spike glanced overhead and saw a pony-shaped rainbow diving right for him.

He had enough time to start to duck under the wrought iron patio table before Rainbow Dash slammed into, and through, a series of magical barriers, each one the hue of a separate unicorn's magic. Rarity's, a pale blue, was the one at the end, and the only one to hold, flexing and bouncing the furious pegasus back twenty feet into the air. When the pegasus went for another charge, cursing, all the unicorns swarmed in front of Spike protectively while he considered the irony of his predicament.

“Rainbow Dash! Just what in the name of meat and marrow do you think you're doing?! This gentledragon is one of our guests!”

“Wha?! BUNK! He's MINE!”

Rarity stamped a hoof, scowling. “Honestly, haven't you the slightest SHRED of propriety?!” she yelled right back, meeting Rainbow Dash's charge face-to-face.

The pegasus actually stopped in midair. Spike marveled. How could such a dainty, well-spoken thing stand up to a brute that moved faster than your eyes could even track?! This mystery was only second to the mystery of the Inn itself. It was as though Dragon God had woken up today and decided 'Well, might as well make Spike rethink everything he ever thought he knew about ponies for giggles.'

The two of them apparently knew each other, because they immediately got into what was, unmistakably, a shrieking no-holds-barred verbal girl fight, minus hair-pulling (barely). The other unicorns rolled their eyes at each other and went back to whatever they'd been doing before they'd been hauled in for musical duty, while Spike propped his chin on his hands and stared at Rarity effortlessly, shrilly holding her own with no quarter asked nor given. He should've been scared, he knew he should've been terrified, but somehow, with that classy unicorn between him and danger, he felt... safe.

From what little he could make out of their argument/slapping duel/shoving contest, Rainbow Dash apparently had a history of 'accidentally' eating guests who chafed her very chafable sense of self. Rarity, the founder, owner and manager of the Inn and its unique form of jewelry-based diplomatic immunity, had been losing non-tiny amounts of money from this, since the second half of a two-part payment systems was only finalized when the guest checked out, turned in his or her bracelet and was escorted safely to the border. They spoke casually enough (and dragged up enough juicy dirt on each other) that they'd probably known each other for years, but any friendliness between them was stretching to a breaking point.

Spike wondered if his alibi about the bracelet would hold, and breathed relief when Rainbow Dash admitted that she couldn't even remember if he'd had a bracelet or not. Whew. Rarity, red in the face, actually threatened to buck Rainbow Dash after that, which Spike got to be something of a big deal for so cultured a unicorn. She was seriously defending him, a stranger from a prey species she'd only just met, down to the last bit.

He thought back to Little Strongheart and sniffled, wiping his nose.

When Rainbow Dash lost the argument, she made another lunge for him. Spike jumped back under the table, but it wasn't necessary – Dash's wings were being paralyzed by magic from too many unicorns for even her to break with brute force. The pegasus fell down on her belly with a thud and started spitting out more threats.

Like an animal. And to ponies, Spike thought to himself morbidly, he was the beast.

Rarity stalked up to the grounded pegasus and leaned in till they were snout to snout.

“RAINBOW DASH.” Rainbow Dash shut up, though even that in your face icy yell wasn't enough to douse her glower. “Get. A. Hobby.”

Spike snorted and started laughing. He couldn't help himself. The stupid look on Rainbow Dash's face, the way she'd been effortlessly shut down by someone so completely unlike any of the terribly violent ponies Spike had ever met. And the musical number was still bubbling back there in his brain, too, unanalyzed because it was really just too silly and he was totally going to explode if he thought about everything in detail. He laughed until he fell off his chair, till tears rolled down his eyes. Kept laughing over Rainbow Dash's amazingly awkward attempt to back off and make it look like he wasn't important enough for her to care about anyway. Laughed for finding a place of safety in the middle of pony land, run by the ponies themselves. Laughed being alive. Laughed for having food in his tummy. Just laughed and couldn't stop.

When he got over it, his lungs aching from it, his face wet, Spike found himself being pulled gently to his feet by the unicorn. He flinched a bit, purely out of reflex, and the wince he saw in her face actually hurt him to see.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

“It's quite alright, sir Spike.”

SHE CALLED HIM SIR.

He almost fainted the spot.

“...or is it mister, rather? I must admit that I've still so much to learn about draconic peerage, one is always so busy, what with running a full-fledged revolutionary business and all, that sometimes the mere boondoggle of cultural research quite slips one's mind....”

Spike wiped his face. “You can just call me Spike. I mean, I'm still a baby dragon technically, so....”

“Surely you're joking! Oh, but you're not, and I've offended you by saying so, I can see it in your eyes, what a dreadful harridan of a lady I am. And you out here visiting the Inn all by yourself, in truth? Oh, Spike, Spike Spike Spike, how could you do such a thing? Think of what could have become of you had we not managed to find each other in the nick of time! Why, your parents must be worried sick!”

“I don't really have any.”

That caused Rarity to do another one of her amazingly piercing gasps, and he grinned and got back to his tea, resigned to tell her his life story. It ended up being the short version, as she interrupted with dramatic re-imaginings of how she expected different parts would have went. He particularly liked the bit about him as a knight saving damsels in distress. She had a romantic heart... and was such a considerate listener.

For a unicorn.

For a pony.

That didn't have to mean anything. They weren't all bad, maybe, possibly. He wanted to believe there was good in them. He wanted to believe in Rarity, and resolved to do his best to do so while he stayed at the Inn and got a handle on things. And in admitting that to himself he felt a bit less guilty about also admitting that she was abso-freaking-lutely gorgeous.

Foraunicornforaponyofcoursecoughcough.

Spike caught himself sighing wistfully and staring into her eyes during pauses in the carefully-edited story, and ended up kicking himself in the shin to snap out of it whenever her eyes just seemed a little too sparkly or her voice a bit amazingly melodious. He tried looking at other parts of her, including the blue diamonds flank symbol, but that just made him seem evasive, so he gave up. He did wonder why the diamonds had dark squiggly blotches in them though.

Then they moved on to the Inn, and his delicate admission to maaaaybe having forgotten most of the sales brochure information. Rarity, fortunately, wasn't offended.

“Impulse purchases are often a matter for flighty minds, but I'm sure it was an exception rather than a rule for such a cute little fellow like yourself,” she said sweetly.

At some point after his confession of his age, Rarity had switched from 'adult to adult' mode to 'adult to child' mode. He didn't really mind; she still paid him total courtesy and was even more forthcoming with info this way. Not to mention nuzzles that smelled like vanilla shampoo and made him want to melt from the inside out into a puddle of happy dragon. Around her, he was getting over his years of painfully-learned terror of ponies with almost disturbing ease. Some little part of his brain told him that it was wrong, that it was all just a trap, that he needed to stay alert and be watchful because there was absolutely no way Rarity wasn't going to try to eat him. And the rest of his brain told that little bit to shut up and let him enjoy something for once.

He was extremely disappointed when she handed him off to one of her fellow unicorn underlings, a mint-colored pony named Lyra. Citing business-related engagements, she bid him a 'ta ta' with a last apology and her hopes that she would see him at dinner. With nothing else to do, Spike clutched at his bent bracelet nervously and followed Lyra around as she took him to the front desk and gave him several maps and brochures, which he pretended he could read. The map wasn't too bad, at least, mostly comprehensible pictures and some different-colored lines that he could basically guess at the meaning of. Lyra was happy enough to explain everything about the immediate area and the Inn that he didn't know – which was pretty much everything.

“...and over there's the smoking parlor, dragons like yourself find it quite handy, though I'm not sure if we've any silk robes in your size... I'll see if we can get something resized for you, if you'd like.”

“Sure, that'd be awesome.”

He paused to eyeball the smoking parlor interestedly, where a few dragons, griffins and two more of the ever-present unicorns were having smoke ring contests. Then he shrugged and moved on. It wasn't dragons he needed to learn about today.

“What's down there?” he asked as they passed an ignored stairwell on the way to his room.

“Oh, that's just the kitchen,” she replied with a bright smile and glassy eyes.

Spike nodded and considered asking one of a million questions, and ended up asking a completely different room instead.

“So... these Rules you keep mentioning... how important are they? Is it three strikes you're out or what?”

“Oh, no no NO no no,” she said quickly, tittering a bit. “I'm sorry, sweetie, I really should have informed you before, it's just that we don't get many guests as... um, as in blank slate condition as you. Here, have a seat and I'll go over everything important.”

She patted a hoof on one of the nearby cushioned benches that were scattered throughout the Inn's polished wooden halls, and Spike hopped up. He immediately sank down to his waist in the plush stuffed fabric. After a few futile attempts to readjust himself so that he was more on top of it, he just gave up and let himself be a weird half dragon half furniture centaur thing.

“Huh. You sit weird for a pony.”

“What are you talking about? I'm sitting the way you're sitting.”

“But you're a pony.” He was holding back giggles again. It was probably hysteria, right? Had to be that. This was just such a weird day.

“Hush, you. Anyway, the Rules aren't anything really strange, just codified common courtesy, really. But you only get one shot. You have to understand, Miss Rarity went through a lot of political hardship to get the Inn open. Part of the deal was that guests had to prove themselves capable of holding up to a pony standard of civilized society. If you break a rule, you're... out.”

Instead of making him nervous, that actually helped relieve him a little. So not all ponies agreed that the Inn, that making peace with prey, was such a great idea. Compromises had been put up to get a workable business out of it. He totally got that, it was something he could shove, however awkwardly, into his world view, instead of just treating the Inn like some weird detached fairy tale land where everyone was happy and sang songs for no reason.

“So it's stuff like don't burp at the table, wipe your feet before coming in?” he guessed.

Lyra smiled and patted him on the head. He eyed her warily. Her affection seemed to be less... genuine... than Rarity's. Or maybe he was just more suspicious because Lyra wasn't smoking hot.

“Well, most of it's a bit more symbolic than that, dumpling.”

He really wished she'd stop using nicknames for him that referenced food or flavors.

“Rule number one is: always eat what's set before you. Don't worry, we take great care to accommodate draconic dietary needs here at the Inn. You can leave some on your plate if you want, but it's expected to eat at least half, and don't ever ask for a different dish.”

“Wait, what if I'm allergic to something?”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No....” Not that he knew of, anyway.

She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Pumpkin, part of being in Equestria is knowing when to open your mouth and when to leave it shut.” And it was totally a coincidence that she licked her top front teeth after that, polishing damp shiny white with her pink, broad tongue.

Spike sank back into the cushions more to hide a shudder.

“So, rule number two: once a hunt is called on legitimate prey, you can't interfere. Legitimate prey, of course, doesn't include guests of the Inn.”

“Can I argue with them?”

“Can you... what?” She tilted her head and blinked those big sparkly pony eyes at him.

“I get that I can't jump out and wrestle a pony to stop it from eating something, but can I poke them and tell them that what they're doing is wrong and start bringing up relevant points about why they should feel bad about it and stop and eat grass or something instead?”

He gave her his best smile, but Lyra just looked at him with a weird, appraising gaze that made him squirm.

“...no, you cannot do that,” she said after a very awkward silence as the changeling from earlier walked by arm-in-arm with an earth pony, both of them laughing and smelling of booze. “I'm like ninety-nine percent sure.”

Spike sighed silently. There went his big idea to spread peace to all crazy ponies by talking them out of being crazy. Not like it'd ever worked before anyway. “Great. Anything else?”

“Oh, yes. Rule number three: always address the Princess with the utmost respect, regardless of company. Rule four: you must allow yourself to be accompanied by an employee of the Inn if you wish to see Ponyville proper, as designated by the town limit signs. Rule five: at the continental breakfast, don't use more than two creamers for your coffee. The creamer is for everyone. Rule six....”

And so on it went, a good mixture of vaguely ominous restrictions on his movements and activities mixed up with basic politeness things that Spike would have expected out of any inn. He listened to the rules up to twenty-three, and then pretended to listen until Lyra stopped talking about them. There was only so much a dragon could take!

He was shown to his room on the third floor, which had a nice little overlook of the side of the building and the lush rolling hills and trees beyond. There were at least three separate couples having picnics in the shade of those trees while the sun glowed like gold down on everything. The room itself was better than anything he'd ever been in – it wasn't exactly a huge luxury suite, but every piece of furniture was polished to a sheen, the bed was so soft that he actually asked (to Lyra's laughter) if it was stuffed with clouds, the marble bathroom had four entirely separate sets of bath-related liquids organized by fragrance themes, and the minibar was loaded – not that he cared about that last part except for the cute little olives and sugary syrups and stuff, of course. When Lyra took her leave after informing him about the communal supper in a couple hours, he promptly made himself at home with a nonalcoholic cider with four lime wedges and a sprinkle of sapphire dust, and flopped on the bed. If he stayed on top of the blanket, it kept him from sinking too far down. The blanket was decorated with blue diamonds just like Rarity's cutie mark, minus the blotchy parts in the centers.

Heaven, Spike thought to himself as he stared at the cherry wood panels of the opposite wall where an ornate cuckoo clock sat, its weight-driven bird safely housed inside. This was heaven.

To think that a place like that had existed all this time and he'd never heard about it. Then again, not being the reading type, it wasn't like he could check out the advertising pamphlets. But he would have thought someone would have talked about it before, at least. They probably got loads of customers from people who were just sick of having to put up with ponies trying to eat them all the time and wanted to rest for a bit. As nice as this place was, and as full up as it seemed to be, shouldn't it be doing even more business?

Maybe it was struggling because of what other ponies thought of it. Spike had seen firsthand what ponies like Rainbow Dash thought of the Inn, and bet that Braeburn and his cowpony pals wouldn't have had much more respect for it. The courage it took to stand up to your entire society like that... to go a different way and make friends with the creatures every other pony thought of as just food... he couldn't even imagine how brave you'd have to be to do it. He thought back to Rarity and, instead of becoming skeptical of the virtue hiding behind her silver tongue and raw beauty, he became even more impressed the more he looked the situation over. She had singlehandedly... singlehoofedly, whatever... come up with a way for ponies to stop hurting dragons and everyone else, from the ground up, and even made it profitable. She was a genius, a visionary.

A beautiful, compassionate visionary who treated him with respect and was actually interested in his life story. To have someone like that in his life, even if she was a unicorn, a pony....

Sighing, Spike finished his drink and started chewing on one of the lime pieces. These thoughts were sick. He was sick. There wasn't a single dragon who wouldn't react with disgust to his pervy thoughts! But then again, was it so wrong? To want a world where ponies and dragons could live together happily? To want to judge someone, not by what they were born as on the outside, but what they tried to be on the inside?

Spike's eyes looked over the pictures on the walls. There was the pony Princess, of course, with her insanely wavy hair that was probably a pain to brush in the mornings. Another pictured Ponyville from a sort of artistic overhead view with abstract streaks of color, probably based on a pegasus's viewpoint. Then there was a sketch of the Inn, done in charcoal, with a sunhat-equipped Rarity relaxing in a rocker on the front. He snorted and chuckled at that one; that picture had to've been posed if it'd ever existed in the real world at all, a rocking chair was way too... rustic... for a classy lady like her.

Underneath the bed, he found a folded-up metal rod contraption of some kind that he guessed was for some sort of exercise, a smaller child-sized mattress and a surprisingly total lack of dust bunnies. In the closet were enough high-end formal and light spring wear clothes to make him feel like the fresh prince of Ponyville... if any of them hadn't been two or three times his size at a minimum. A small cabinet beside the door held a bunch of magazines and books. Checking out the magazine covers, they seemed to be mostly touristy or general-interest. There was also a dresser with a first aid kit, toothpicks, after dinner mints and something that Spike eventually recognized to be shoe polish. Shoe polish. From a business run by a species that didn't wear shoes. Could this place possibly get any sweeter than it already was?

No bloodstains, no weapons, no restraints, no tools of murder or imprisonment, no traps doors leading to secret dungeons, nothing that would indicate that the Inn was anything other than a really nice place to chill for a while.

The first aid kit lingered in Spike's mind long after he shut the dresser back up. It was the kind of thing he would have found incredibly useful during his travels. He kept wanting to grab it and hide it in a magical space pocket or something to keep with him forever. But, he had to keep reminding himself, the ponies here weren't going to hurt him. They didn't want to. They would have if they'd wanted to already, or at least let Rainbow Dash hurt him instead of doing the dirty work themselves.

He was safe.

He was safe.

He was safe, and yet his brain kept going back to the memories of bloody pony teeth, of screams and snarls, of hooves bruising and spitting flesh.

Obviously it was the room that was the problem! All this time on the road, he wasn't used to being cooped up. Sure, there were two windows, but nothing in the bathroom, what if he needed to duck in there for an escape route? Wait, no, stupid Spike, you don't NEED an escape route, you're SAFE here. Calm down. Get some fresh air. Think about Miss Rarity, maybe.

Raaaarity.

Spike smacked himself on the side of the head. Hard.

“Okay, that's gotta stop,” he told his reflection in the room's hanging mirror firmly. “Seriously, you're creeping me out here, bro. Keep a lid on that inner volcano of hot, ragingly handsome dragon feelings, 'kay? 'Kay. Cool and suave. Remember the rules.” The ones he'd actually paid attention to, at least. “You're a SIR now, after all!”

And even then, he couldn't help but think that it would be awfully hard to scale out the windows and down to the grass, if he had to.

Blaugh! For once in his life, something cool had happened to him, and he couldn't even accept it. But it'd take time. He could afford to take the time... how long had the griffin said this bracelet was good for again? Whatever, he'd just ask one of the ponies at dinner or something. It would be long enough for him to rest and enjoy himself and maybe think of a way to come up with some spare moolah to buy an extended stay. After all, a dragon in Equestria... there had to be something he could be useful for that ponies couldn't do.

By the time he got over himself and decided firmly on a nice stroll around the digs, the clock's cuckoo said it was time to go down for dinner. Realizing he didn't exactly know where to go, Spike found the nearest guest (a diamond dog with a monocle and a tail like a half-unraveled spring) and followed him to the main stream of moving bodies, which got him pointed in the right direction. The dining room was on the first floor, set in the back of the building with most of the longest wall being nothing but windows. It gave a terrific view of the fields and the cute little cottages that dotted the horizon.

He felt super out of place, and not just because of his size. For one, he was the only person in the room who wasn't clothed – even Rarity, presiding over the inner center of the crescent-shaped, red silk-draped table, had put on a few strings of pearls and a large peacock-feathered blue hat. All the guests had put on some kind of formal wear for the occasion, even if it was just a polka-dotted bow tie in the case of the changeling, and the employee ponies were all uniformed in starchy black and white. He heard the whispers and saw the faintly condescending sidelong glances as he stepped in, and a clumsy grin and finger wave didn't do anything to make it stop. They only quieted down when Rarity herself cast a suddenly-cold gaze around the room and cleared her throat meaningfully, which, to Spike's relief, immediately caused everyone to mind their own business and go back to their earlier conversations.

There was apparently some kind of seating arrangement, too, and he felt his face heat up when he had to resort to asking a random unicorn about where to sit and she, of course, pointed out all the stupid place markers that he couldn't read. The markers weren't even regular folded paper slips, they were funky origami things. Anyone could've been forgiven for thinking they were just artsy stuff! His seat was two down from Miss Rarity on the opposite side, far enough that he wished he was closer, close enough that he felt safer than he would have otherwise.

Golden candle holders were matched up against real silver silverware and plates polished to mirror reflections. There was also a small plate and two sizes of bowls on the side, and three forks, and a couple extra utensils he couldn't even identify. He didn't know what to do with it all, and hated that feeling of being a fish out of water. It was a vulnerable feeling, a scary feeling, like being hunted. Only instead of being scared that he'd get hurt, he was scared that someone would laugh. The ridiculousness of it wasn't lost on him.

There was a menu sort of thing underneath the place markers, but to him, the only good of it was in telling him that the Inn had access to sparkly gold ink. Spike waited for the food to come, wondering how Rarity had managed to get dishes for so many different species. At least he knew how to tie a knot behind his neck to get his napkin bib to stay on, that part wasn't as easy as you would think at first!

There wasn't a blessing or anything like that. Spike approved. This joint was way too highbrow to be superstitious, and he wasn't sure he'd appreciate even pretending not to hate anything that ponies had that came close to religion, considering his brush with the Appleloosan idea of faith.

“Entrée is served,” some pony in the back announced, her faintly-accented voice, not too different from Rarity's, effortlessly slicing through the ambient noise.

Guests quieted down as the dishes started being brought in. Spike had been right in his guess that the dishes were appropriate for each species; at least, the unicorns were levitating over different dishes for each guest, with a discreetly murmured description as the meals were floated from platters to plates. The order they were delivered in seemed to be random, because over a dozen guests all around him were getting theirs before he got anything. He tried not to drool and clenched his stomach muscles to keep it from growling and embarrassing him; the steamy smells that were drifting up were like a straight happiness injection through his nostrils, and the food all looked great, even if it was so fancy and covered in herbs and sauces and things that he couldn't really tell what it all was. And one of the dishes was even on fire, which was apparently how it was supposed to be, because the server unicorn just blew it out as it was served, leaving light smoke and something like top-blackened pudding for the gazelle to deal with.

Finally, his meal arrived – he was fourth to last out of a couple dozen guests, not including Rarity and a couple other employees who were apparently similarly important – and he licked his lips, fidgeting a bit as he watched the platter float over in his direction. Too high to see, of course, but that was unavoidable. He considered asking for a couple extra pillows or something to prop himself on, but decided that he didn't need to stand out any more than he already did.

Lyra bent down expertly to place her mouth near his ear as she placed the food on his plate in a short, delicate rain of juices, creamy golden sauce and tiny squares of green herby leaves.

“Filet de lézard avec souffle feu, if you will, braised in a light velouté of itself, rimmed by diced ginger-infused lotus root and topped with the house seasoning and chives.”

Spike thoughtfully stared at the entirely unidentifiable lump of whatever in its rather pretty sauce with planty things on top it and around it. He didn't really like the idea of putting something in his mouth when he didn't know what it was, and took a moment to try and decipher Lyra's words without risking the humiliation of asking a dumb question again. He knew what a filet was, of course. Meat. He could handle that, it was okay, everydragon ate meat eventually when there weren't enough gems to go around. Just forget the cute waving dead squirrel. Totally out of mind. He couldn't afford to get squeamish over something like that now, not when he'd already embarrassed himself by not wearing a tie or anything!

Lézard was a gimme, obviously it was some kind of lizard or other reptilian thing. Bigger than a gecko. Maybe an alligator? What other big lizards were there? Turtle? He liked turtles, they were adorable and helpless. He hoped it wasn't turtle.

That just left the rest of the name, avec souffle feu, which he was clueless on. Wait. Souffle was that puffy egg thing. He'd even had one before. But it was named that because it was puffy, so souffle in this case probably meant puffy or puffed up or something, since he didn't see any egg around.

And he knew feu, now that he really thought about it. They'd said that when they'd delivered the on-fire dish, he was sure of it. So feu was fire.

Meat... lizard... something... puffy, puff, puffed up, puffing... fire.

Or if you reversed it....

No.

Oh, no.

They wouldn't.

They couldn't.

Who would do something that SICK?!

He stared down at his plate, scraping off a little of the sauce with a trembling, beautiful silver fork. There was no way he could tell, of course, it was all cooked up, he couldn't TELL, and he sure wasn't going to ASK!

Fire puffing lizard.

What else could it be?

It was then that Spike noticed with utter and very carefully-concealed horror that everyone else in the room was paying attention to him. The conversations had died down, the eating had slowed, as guests peeked over at him while trying not to look like they were. The servants had slowed their hoof steps, keeping half an eye on him even as they delivered the next course to more eager diners. They all watched. And waited.

For him to eat.

Always eat what's set before you.

...don't ever ask for a different dish.

Spike couldn't breathe. He was certain he was going to throw up.

His eyes went from place to place aimlessly, flitting about like a wounded bird, looking for help he knew he wouldn't find. They stopped on Miss Rarity, beautiful, brave, smart Miss Rarity, who was the only one looking straight at him. Her wide, fixed smile could have been used as a battering ram.

As their eyes met, she broke the quiet, her voice just a little louder than usual, but in that atmosphere it was enough to make everyone start and twitch uncomfortably.

“Goodness gracious, Sir Spike, your dish looks a trifle overcooked even from here! Honestly, Lyra, I expect you to have a better eye than that – this never should have left the kitchen in such a shameful state. Please do me the favor of allowing me to be a good hostess and let me cut that up for you, dear.”

With that, she floated his plate over to her with a blue glow of effortless magic, proceeding to wield knife and fork with similar arcane ease, quickly reducing his filet to bite-sized cubes. Even through his revulsion, Spike had enough functionality left in his brain to marvel at how well she multitasked the most finicky procedures in sharp steel without any visible effort. He marveled, and was increasingly terrified. There was no pretending that the meat was anything but the flesh of another ex-living creature, now, with the soft, pink innards exposed by knife and fork.

She sent the plate back, and that seemed to be a hidden cue for everyone to get back to normal. Everyone started talking and eating again, but they still kept glancing at him, pretending they weren't. But he saw. He saw.

And that strained, big toothy grin never left Rarity's face as she talked a little too loudly with the griffin on her right. He watched her sweat drip down the pearls around her neck. It wasn't that hot in the room.

Rarity very carefully did not look in his direction after that. She looked in every other direction, but not at him, but there was a tightness to her cheerful hostess routine that spoke of fear. Spike knew it because he'd felt it in himself too many times. As she shifted in her seat, he eventually got another look at her flank without meaning to, and finally realized what the blotch in the gems were. They were bugs. What type, he wasn't smart enough to know. Bugs trapped in crystal, frozen forever. Death presented artistically. Tastefully.

Did she want him to eat because he'd embarrass her if he didn't? Or because she cared about him and didn't want to see him embarrassed for his own sake? What would happen if he broke a Rule? Did he even want to know?

Heaven. This was heaven, Spike reminded himself. So what if there was an entrance fee? His hand was still clutching at the fork because he hadn't thought to put it down. Good thing, too – it might have stained the tablecloth. The horror, right? The horror. Stains. Nothing worse than that. They'd all laugh at him, or worse, turn their noses up at him or even make him leave. Make him leave and return to a life where a pony could kill him anytime it felt like it. A life without a soft bed or a beautiful room or a cuckoo clock or a minibar with lime wedges.

Everything he wanted was right in front of him. He just had to be willing to take it.

It wasn't like not eating a steak would bring somedragon back to life.

Excuses.

All excuses.

Spike wanted to throw up, but he didn't.

Instead, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

Comments

[Stuuf]

I knew it was to good to be true!!!!

[Azarune]

Come on Spike you got to BELIEVE!!! DO NOT TRAMPLE YOUR MORALS! YOU CAN STILL FIGHT STILL BELIEVE!!!!

[ChaoticImp]

Omg, holy crap...What`ll you do Spike....

[UltiXevoz]

FightDa PONY POWAH. DON'T CONFROM, THEY'LL KILL YOU.

[Oneyearwarpilot]

They hunted him he was thier prey and now they have given him a ultimatum eat your own or be eaten by your enemy.

Eat Spike your morals will not keep you alive, if you want to live become the beast or be the pet but do not ever allow yourself to be the weak they bcome the meal.

[dragonman800]

What a horrible situation..... eat your own kind and be safe or be thrown out and be prey
you poor dragon you

[Pyro The Reader]

The level of messed up has went through the roof. This is such a terribly great story.

[Rookee Alding]

I wonder if they would show compation if he where to bust out crying? and just started acting like a lost baby? Maybe someponies motherly side could be awoken... Though... yea...

I am wishing for a work for your happy ending... but I don't think it's going to happen. always a positive one I am.

[Zweihander]

Wha..I...
That's not fair. NOT COOL MAN.

[insert uncreative name]

I am enjoying this story. I has an original plot (at least I've never seen anything like it).
Personally I am also hoping for a happy ending for Spike, but don't let my hopes get in the way of what you had planed.
I look forward to reading more of this story.

[PonePlumper]

Just when it seemed like there was a 'perfect' silver lining, Spike must endure more stress.
Y'know, the author is a bit too good at bringing hopes up and then ripping them apart only to have Spike continue on.
And I really want him to win. Great story.

[Dragonskyt]

I kind of expected what the meals would contain. Still very Angsty though as you write revulsion very well.