3: Nadir

The Dragon breached the boundary to full awareness, dragged himself away from the unpleasant memories that assailed him and returned to the here-and-now. Things here were clean and simple. Here, he was mostly alone.

There was still a hint of metallic bitterness in his mouth. The gash on his back was sore. The cave smelt faintly of blood and smoke. This was okay. These were manageable sensations. But he felt a cloying melancholy, a vague and unplaceable sense of loss, and a curious need to go and examine the downed airship.

The wall by the exit to his chamber was a deep, rich red. It was evening. He reckoned that his altercation with the Other Dragon had been several hours ago. The Dragon got up, stretched his limbs – one by one in sequence – and ambled out of the cave. It was reassuring that the injury he had sustained did not impede his movements. At the exit of the cave, he spread his wings, paused for a moment to feel the breeze, and dived into the gorge.

The airship, as predicted, had been completely stripped bare of any remaining gems. It lay on its side. Voluminous mounds of iridescent fabric lay some way behind the wreck like a beached jellyfish, torn off on a jagged outcrop. The rest of the airship lay on its side a little further down on a plateau just a few metres above the river at the bottom of the gorge. Its bulbous belly had been torn open in its landing and further eviscerated by marauding dragons. The bright orange and blue pastel paintwork made an odd contrast with wounds the ship had acquired and with the washed out colours of rocks and moss of the gorge floor. The engines at the back had also been opened up by the claws of dragons, looking for whatever gemstones may have been used to power the airship.

The Dragon landed beside the airship and stood for a few moments, just watching it. He wasn't sure why he was here, and he didn't see what this visit would accomplish. He ran his claws lightly across the insignia he had noticed when he first saw the airship. Two alicorns. A symbol associated with ponies. With... Equestria? He knew he had seen this symbol many times before. It was odd to see it here. Why would they be carrying gemstones so far from their home?

He examined the insignia again and realised that he had known these alicorns. One he had known at the very beginning of his life. She had taught him many things that he had now forgotten. She had cared for him when he thought no one else would. The other he had known, but not as well. She had come later. She had been decent and kind, but he had failed to get to know her properly. So many opportunities lost, so many paths now closed forever.

The Dragon turned away from the wreck, a lump in his throat. He did not wish for any more memories from this time. Silly, painful mammalian tendencies he'd picked up as a whelp. Of no use to survival or hoarding. Ridiculous.

Something else struck him about the airship. It was large. Four or five times his size. Dragon creations, when they troubled themselves to create things, were much larger. But for something built by ponies, he thought, this airship was gigantic. Maybe one hundred, one hundred and fifty pony-lengths With its balloon inflated, the ponies must have found it immense.

What had they thought when they saw it leaving its dock? It must have seemed to be the pinnacle of their technological prowess: grand and serene and unassailable. And now here it was, nothing but a gutted chunk of wreckage.

***

"Tea?" said Celestia.

Spike nodded. "Yes, please, Princess."

The two of them were in Celestia's study. Spike was as big as she was now, and the castle was one of the few places he could move about with ease. A teacup held in Celestia's field appeared in front of him and he took it with his foreclaw. Celestia settled on the floor across from him with her own cup and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"If all is going well, they should have opened the Gate by now," she said, and then smiled. "Odd, isn't it, how the fate of Equestria can hang in the balance, and we sit here drinking tea?"

"I guess after the tenth time something tries to end the world and gets defeated, impending apocalypse doesn't seem all that special any more," said Spike. Neither needed to mention that they had absolute faith that the bearers would save the day.

"Spike, you're not upset at having to stay home for this one, are you?"

"Not at all. I know what the book said. Only seven can go through the Gate of Greyface, and Discord has to go for them to be able to return." Spike shrugged his wings. "Plus, I'm getting a little tired of the whole 'save the world, fail to get the girl' thing." He sipped his tea. "I think we all are, really."

Celestia nodded. "It can get a little wearing at times. I don't wish to see any the bearers let a life of heroics get in the way of living. Though, I think we've already found a trio of very enthusiastic and competent young mares who would be quite willing to take on the mantle as soon as they can."

Spike chuckled. He could imagine it easily.

"You said, 'fail to get the girl', Spike. At the risk of being tactless, are you still in love with her?"

Spike studied his tea intensely.

Celestia put a hoof on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Spike," she said. "There is little I can do for you. I can't tell you that finding another lover will make everything better. I can't pretend the pain of unrequited love will ever go away. It may lessen gradually, but it's entirely possible that there will never come a day when you are able to stop thinking of her." She looked at the ground and sighed. "Further, you should know that, for beings like us, love, reciprocated or not, can never come without pain. The best case scenario is having to watch your lover wither and die."

Spike looked into Celestia's eyes. He didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything.

"You must understand," said Celestia, "I tell you this not to try and hurt you, but because I think you are strong enough to understand. And, for what it's worth, I can tell you that I will always be here for you. Dynasties may crumble, empires may fall and be lost to history, the mountains this city stands upon may be worn away to sand, but you will always have a place by my side. Never forget that."

Spike at last found words. "Thank you, mom."

***

"Are... Are you sure we should go in there?" said Sweetie Belle.

Spike nodded.

"Or maybe we should get the others?"

"We can get them later. Go get them yourself, now, if you're that concerned," said Spike.

Sweetie Belle didn't move.

"Good," said Spike, and put his claw on the door to Carousel Boutique. He pushed gently. Wood cracked, and the lock came off the door. Spike opened the door the rest of the way and peered inside.

The room was in a shambles. Mirrors were shattered. Tables were overturned. The floor was strewn with torn fabric. Ornaments were scattered from boxes. And ponnequins were lying on their sides. Rarity's chaise longue was intact and unblemished, though, lying in a portion of the room that had avoided damage.

"How bad is it?" said Sweetie Belle. Spike moved from the doorway so she could get inside, and then, with some difficulty, squeezed through the door himself.

A few minutes earlier in the evening, Spike had been walking past the Boutique on his way home, only to see a fraught Sweetie Belle hammering on the closed door. The young mare had explained that she'd heard crashes and Rarity intermittently cursing. When Sweetie had found the door to be locked and knocked repeatedly, Rarity had shouted that she wanted to be alone and then stopped responding. Spike had rapped on the door, but to no avail, at which point he had decided to just break in.

"Oh Celestia," murmured Sweetie Belle, and looked at Spike.

Spike walked towards the stairs, but Sweetie Belle held out a hoof to stop him. She stood at the foot of the stairs and called up, "Rarity? It's me. I have Spike with me. We're coming up."

After a moment, they got a reply. "Okay," Rarity called back weakly.

The door to her bedroom was open. The two found Rarity lying on her bed with bloodshot and teary eyes.

"He's gone. Debonair is gone," she said.

"Oh, Rarity," said Sweetie Belle, and rushed to hug her sister.

"As you see, I had some... rather uncouth... feelings I needed to work off," said Rarity. She dabbed her eyes on the duvet, looked at Spike, and summoned him with her hoof to join the hug. Spike sat beside the bed and put his wing over the two ponies. At length, Opalescence appeared from beneath the furniture and jumped up on the bed to join them, purring.

"Thank you, both of you, for coming up here," said Rarity.

"Any time," said Spike, claw resting on her shoulder.

"It'll be tough. But I think I'll be okay," said Rarity. She had tears in her eyes again.

***

With a start, The Dragon realised that he had been looking at the downed airship for some time. The gorge was weakly illuminated by the thin sliver of moon at zenith. The Dragon carved great claw marks into the rock beneath him out of frustration. There was no reason for him to have come here. He had no business here. It was just nostalgia. With a single leap and a beat of his wings, he was in the air again, going back to his cave.

The entrance to his cave smelt wrong. There was fresh blood here, and the air was permeated by the smell of ash and smoke that was not his. He refused to let himself believe the obvious until he reached his chamber. A red beast sat on his hoard, watching him intently, left side turned towards him. It was the Other Dragon. It had been waiting for him to arrive.

The two dragons remained perfectly still for several seconds, waiting to see if there would be violence. The Dragon realised that his competitor was nowhere near as smart as he was; the thought of a surprise attack had not occurred to it at all. It was injured from their last encounter. Another point in his favour. But it was bigger. It was more merciless. It held an entrenched position and its weak side was facing away from him; the two left legs could still inflict plenty of damage. There were no clear openings to end the battle any more. Even if he managed to rout the Other Dragon, it would likely deal him a fatal wound in the process. He could not win. He would have to leave. But there was one thing he needed to do first.

He lunged forward. The Other Dragon, not seeing his intention, blocked with its foreleg. The Dragon kept on going forward. He thrust his claw into the hoard. The Other Dragon regained its composure. It kicked at his belly. The Dragon did not block. He had to remain focused on his goal. The kick hurt, but he didn't have time to stop and inspect the damage. The Other Dragon kicked again. He paid it no mind. From his hoard he grabbed the photograph. The Other Dragon bit him on the muzzle. He retreated, claw cupped around his prize. As he passed back through the exit to the chamber, the Other Dragon fell back. It sat on his hoard, posturing and snarling.

The Dragon left the cave and flew upwards to the lip of the gorge, settling on a flat patch of rock. He put the photograph down beside him gently and lay still, breathing heavily. He was still bleeding. Several ugly, ragged gashes were strewn across his belly and forelegs. They hurt. A lot. Even breathing was painful.

He had lost his home. Now it was just him and the photograph.

***

"I'm sorry," said Doctor Willowbark. "There's very little we can do at this stage. The Fenghuang tears you brought back have proved ineffective, and even if the pathogen were to go into retreat now, the damage done would be irreparable." She paused, looking over the ten friends standing before her. "My recommendation is that we take her off life support. The choice, as her closest living kin, lies with you."

Sweetie Belle took a deep, ragged breath. She stood beside Spike, his wing draped over her back. On her other side stood Scootaloo, her forehooves together, and beside them, Apple Bloom. Sweetie Belle craned her neck to look to Celestia.

"I cannot decide for you, Sweetie Belle," said Celestia. "My advice is the same as the doctor's, but nopony will judge you should you wish to wait."

Sweetie Belle looked at the ground, jaw tensed. Spike's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to help, but he could think of nothing to say.

"No," said Sweetie Belle. "I can't drag this out." She looked at Doctor Willowbark, gaze unwavering. "Turn it off. Just give us time to say our goodbyes."

The doctor nodded. "Very well," she said. "Follow me."

They each went in to say their piece to Rarity. Celestia and Twilight, Applejack and Apple Bloom, Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo went together in pairs. Everyone else, alone. Sweetie Belle was last. And just before her, Spike.

His turn. He squeezed through the doorway and sat beside Rarity's bed, towering over her. He didn't know what to say. Recount past times? Witter about his feelings? About how she'd never loved him but decades of heartache was okay because he got to be her friend? How trite and vacuous it all seemed in the face of a soul about to be snuffed out by the mindless caprice of reality.

It had been sudden, too. No dramatic sacrifice, no sentimental last words. Just blip and she was in a coma, never to awake. And that was that. Spike couldn't quite get his head around it. It might've been easier, at least, if reality actually did have some sort of narrative. Then, at least, they'd know their places and feel some catharsis at the whole thing rather this awful blankness.

He wondered. Would this be the last he saw of her: undecorated, invaded by a multitude of tubes, and surrounded by humming and beeping machines? Or would it be as a painted corpse in an open casket? Both cases seemed to be a tremendous insult to everything she was. It made him sick with undirected anger. He'd had quite enough of the whole thing.

Spike realised he'd been sitting there in silence for five minutes. Sweetie Belle was still waiting; he supposed she had more right to be here than he did. He sighed, put his muzzle against Rarity's forehead, felt her hair against his scales, and smelt her for one last time.

"I love you," he whispered.

Author's Note:

I'm calling it now: This update is gonna earn me my first dislike. Yes, I'm a little worried that with this mawkish tat I've just alienated a good portion of the readers I managed to obtain by part one. But, alas, the show must go on. All I can say on that front, I suppose, is that from here the only way is up, so I hope you'll stick around to see how the story ends.

Also, I'm going to flub the ettiquette of posting standardised thanks on the page of everyone who favourited this. Presumably, if you fave'd, you're reading this now. So: Thank you, all of you. And thank you if you left positive comments, and thank you if you gave this a like. Given that I'm just starting out here and have no frickin' idea what I'm doing, it's a great help to get a vote of confidence from y'all. I really appreciate it.

Finally, the flashback with Celestia in this chapter is solely because of Ekhidna's story Spike's Destiny, which starts off focusing on Celestia as Spike's mother. I imagine Celestia to be an important and oft neglected part of Spike's life, and felt shamed into including a bit of Celestia here too. So, special thanks for Ekhidna for that matter, and I think you would do well to read Spike's Destiny. (And, if you're wondering, this is entirely unsolicited; I don't think Ekhidna is aware of this story at all).

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