Death by Dragon

by Compendium of Steve

Epilogue: What Remains

Epilogue

WHAT REMAINS

A week or so has passed since leaving Ponyville. I managed to walk out of town scot-free; still surprised no one even bothered to follow me, much less send a retaliatory death squad for harming their dear princess. I’ve stayed away from towns and anywhere remotely populated, more just to be alone than out of concern for angry ponies who were out for my blood. Got the opportunity to slum it in the wilderness of the Everfree with nothing but my worn-down suit for comfort (half-stiff with blood, though), staying in whatever cave or large tree I could find whenever I needed sleep. It’s refreshing in a way, getting in touch with my wild roots. Scrounging for berries and fruit, washing up in the occasional stream, napping in the rare pristine glade. A little messy too, but peaceful (especially when most animals are too scared to even get in sight of me, especially the timberwolves). My right side’s healed up fairly nice. A good thing I remembered to swipe a hanging towel on the way out or it would’ve healed slower (wasn’t too deep a hole to begin with). First two days were more tiring because of it. Shoulda stopped by Zecora’s, but I really didn’t want to see anything remotely pony after that day. Left claw healed up completely without any further help, although there’s a slither of a scar on it. Something permanent to remember that crazy bitch by.

Right now I’m sitting on a ledge overlooking the jagged expanse of Ghastly Gorge, kicking my feet lazily and looking at the vast shadows cast by the setting sun. Day and night have been happening as usual since I left, so that means Twilight’s still able to run things. Don’t know if she can handle it for long, and I don’t really care either way. Haven’t really cared for anything but sleeping, eating and wandering around. A day as surreal, insane and tiring as that can do that to one’s sense of giving a damn.

I look over the depths of the gorge, counting the rocks below and thinking how long the fall would last (and feel like lasting). I’ve been coming here the past three days just to sit and let my mind wander. I contemplated jumping a few times, but didn’t want to put in the effort. Just takes a simple push I tell myself, but I guess even that’s too much a bother. And there’s a good chance of surviving with only several broken limbs, which really would not be worth the effort.

Having enough of rock-counting for the day, I get onto my feet and turn back the way I came. Figure I’ll go back to the cave and sleep in early, and tomorrow head out somewhere further east, or west, or just stick around another couple of days. Perhaps hunt some live game for once. Who can say? It’s a world of freakin’ opportunity.

It’s a few steps away from the rift when I see the familiar shade of lavender a few yards ahead and come to an immediate stop. If I had any notion of talking, I’d be speechless. There she stood, down to her bare essentials. No fancy dress, no gaudy crown, no divine aura of regal superiority. Just her plain regular fur, plus a few middling bandages. Two little gauze-wrapped stumps cling to her sides, as though ashamed (can’t blame them). Except for those stumps, she looks like any average pony. Almost like her old self. It’s a bit disorienting.

We just look at each other for about a minute, the wind hardly blowing between us. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, but also some kind humility. She breaks the silence with a simple opener.

“Hello there, Spike.” Her voice is timid, slightly nervous. Her tone is like that of any pony off the street. A memory twangs in the back of my skull, but I talk to get over it.

“Come to find me, huh?”

“You’re not exactly hard to find.” She smiles. “Not when there’s a tracker keeping an eye on you.”

Tracker? Who would... Oh no. Sweetie Belle? I knew something kept ducking away whenever I turned around, some grayish blur. It never came close so I never bothered to check, but could it have been her? Dammit, don’t tell me I made a stalker out of her. Wait, what the hell am I thinking? It’s obviously Zecora: she’s got "tracker" written all over those stripes. Hold on, that raises even more questions.

Twilight seems to notice my conundrum and speaks up. “A certain zebra had come back to town after several years, and a certain young mare didn’t seem too surprised to see her. It took some convincing to get them to help me. But don’t worry: I’ve gotten better at keeping secrets.”

Really no energy to think that out, so I just shrug. “Figures as much.”

“Yeah.” She looks to the ground and kicks a leg distractedly (pulling a Fluttershy all a sudden? Really?). “Sweetie Belle misses you...” A pause before she looks off to the nearby forest. “Pound and Pumpkin are asking a lot about you, too. Wondering when you’ll be back, that kind of thing. So are a few others, though not as vocally.”

I’m still not sure this is all really happening. Talking as though we were having afternoon tea, like no bad shit had gone down ever. Maybe I did jump after all. Disregarding that jolting possibility, I keep talking. “Well, they know where to find me, apparently.”

“Yeah, though there’s much of Everfree Forest in-between.” She taps her hoof a few times then says, “Oh, word came in that Braeburn and Little Strongheart’s foal had been born. It’s a colt; came out very healthy and strong. Doesn’t have a name yet. Braeburn is second guessing, it seems.”

“Huh. Well that’s nice to hear.”

“It is.”

Silence comes between us again. I look around a bit before saying, “I noticed that you came alone.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d slip out, save the fuss.” She rubs the back of her neck.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to raise the moon?”

“Oh, it can wait another half hour. And if I wanted, I could raise it here. It makes no difference, really.”

Another silence. Twilight’s starting to look pained, like she’s beating around the proverbial bush (which is obvious to the point of agonizing). She takes a quick breath and looks at me.

“Spike, listen... I’m not exactly sure what to say.” That familiar trepidation, that concern for not hurting others’ feelings. I can feel something shuddering inside.

“Well, you’ve done okay so far.”

“Not that. It’s just... I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past few days. Canterlot was still in an uproar, but seeing me alive and well helped simmer things down. I was left alone for the most part; gave me time to rest and recover.” Her stumps perk up as she looks to them, then looking back to me, “These healed nicely. Clean cuts, the medics said.”

I shrug again. “Wouldn’t be much of a professional if I were sloppy.”

“About that, Spike.” She bites her lip briefly, then lets it out. “After what happened, I thought back to when it all... started. The decisions I made, the laws enacted, the ‘Duty’. It’s all absurd compared to how things used to be."

(Say it with me, folks: OH, YA THINK?)

“I must admit, ponies suffered for my supposed ideal of order. If Discord really had been behind everything, then it would make sense. He would be capable of anything, even warping thoughts without anypony being the wiser.” She shudders a little. “Even so, I realized out of everyone, you suffered the most at my hooves.”

I remain a statue as regret erodes her.

“I deprived you of a normal life, Spike. I won’t deny that. For my own purposes, genuine or not, I subjected you to violence and malice, as well as the fear and mistrust of my own citizens. You killed in my name, ruthlessly, and did all the dirty work that I thought was beneath me, including avenging my own brother.” She pauses for breath. “When Shining died, I should’ve been out there, losing myself in destroying every last one of those Changelings. But instead I had you and my own friends do it.”

“You stuck to royal standards,” I speak up. “Can’t have a princess out on the frontlines for some bug-hunt.”

“That’s still no excuse.” She huffs. “You want to know something? I didn’t even shed a tear when I heard of their deaths, either of them. My mind was solely focused on taking out Chrysalis and getting back on schedule. Telling myself that maintaining order and appearances was the key to the kingdom’s prosperity and well-being and excuses and excuses excuses.”

Another pause. “The signs were there that something was wrong, but we accepted it like it was normal. That indifference effect you mentioned, leading us to where we are now. Now I don’t know what to feel.” She looks to me with softened eyes. “You killed Celestia, the pony who was like a second mother to me, who made me who I am. You also killed one of my dearest friends. But you did it only because I made a killer out of you. And the worst part is, I sincerely doubt any of it can go back to the way it once was.”

I can hear her choking up slightly. Never a good feeling, exposing your inner-self after it’s been packed in by years of royal pomp and circumstance, hoping that it wasn’t a wasted effort. That some of the damage can be fixed, if only a bit of it. Better give her a break.

“You’re right: there is no going back.” Nothing but hurt in her eyes, but understood hurt. I continue. “Not for me, at least. Not after everything I did. But you, you got nothing to worry about. Take my word for it: there’s still a good chunk of the old Twilight Sparkle in you. It occasionally poked out even as you floated about with those dumb wings, and you dumped it all over me just now.” An uncomfortable cough from her. “Just saying, Twi. If what I said had been wrong, you would’ve taken me down before I got out of town. I’d be executed before the sun would set, even if it took days. It’s obvious you’re not the average ego-maniacal princess.”

“Perhaps due to a massive lack of experience.” She laughs lightly, a smile filling her face. Eh, might as well bury this hatchet further.

“Listen, sorry about the wings. I was under a lot of stress, and… I had to vent. I just wish it hadn't involved hurting you.” Avert my gaze at that one, but from the corner of my eye I see her nod.

“I perfectly understand. I put you in that position, and you had every right to kill me. Though some might not see it as such, this is considerably more merciful. For that, I am deeply grateful.” Looking back at me, the smile sinks away. “It’s still a mess back there, in Canterlot. Two princesses dead, one maimed, the upper percentile of society scrambling to make sense of it all. I say you inadvertently brought about a new political shift, Spike.”

“Not by choice.” Her smile returns.

“With that said, changes will occur. Fairly soon at that, and before they do, I’ll need all the help I can get.” She closes her eyes and her horn lights up, then in a flash a sword pops into being between us. As it floats over to me I see that it’s wiped clean, even given a good polish. Seeing that familiar blade doesn’t make me feel any less uneasy. If I really am dead, this is a truly sick purgatory.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I look hard at the sword while it hovers expectantly. “I’m still a menace to ponykind, last I recall. Not the type of individual you’d want near a princess, at least.”

“Yes, that is something to work out.” She says it quietly, and then hardens her stance. “The politicians can duke it out for now, but I’ll eventually have to step back in to sort it out. At this point I can only make sure the sun rises. If I’m to become a proper leader, or at least a serviceable figurehead, I need to get myself together. Pick out what is me and what isn’t. Gain perspective, clarity. It was messy, but what you had done snapped me awake. Now it’s only a matter of putting things back together into something decent.”

“And you want me around while you’re doing that? Y’know, agent of destruction and all?”

“I don’t need a Vanguard to carry out my will, Spike. Not for this.” Those deep eyes again. “This is more of a task for an advisor, a protector. I need someone around who I can trust as I sort things out. I will try to get the others back together, try and restore what we once had. But I’ll need someone to keep me safe as well. From myself if need be. And you’ve proven to be more than capable for that role.” She grins. “Also, given what you last said to me and what happened after, I say there’s still plenty of the old you under that rugged hide as well.”

“...”

“So, would you be up for it?” Pause. “I’ll understand if you refuse. I’ve already taken so much without asking as it is. Just… be whoever you want to be. I won’t hold it against you.”

We look at each other in silence once again. I turn my gaze back down to the sword, and finally I reach out and take the hilt. The magic around it dissipates, and I’m left holding what had, for much of my life, been an instrument of justice and devastation. I look at it and think.

The world is still screwed up, let’s face it. No amount of kind words and goodwill and forgiveness is gonna fix it overnight. Hell, I might’ve wrecked it beyond fixing. Even so, there are plenty of idiots who throw themselves to a lost cause and manage to keep it afloat if just for a little while by sheer willpower alone. “Live life one day at a time” and junk like that. And something that former psycho pink hurricane used to say: every day is worth living when you can make your friends smile (bet that bitch is laughing at me for thinking that). No matter the atrocity, the deceit, the bitterness and the regret. So long as there’s some semblance of hope, of something to believe in and hold close, there will always be reason to face the new day.

“...Still sweating the small stuff.” To her confused look I add, “You know, having to deal with your little worries and freak-outs has pretty much been the definition of my life. Probably the one thing I'm truly an expert at, sad to say. So really,” pause to shrug. “What else is there for me to be?”

“Spike…” She closes it with a heartfelt smile, followed by, “Thank you.”

I nod. “Anytime.” Holding my sword to the side, I reach into my suit and withdraw a pair of neglected shades. Funny: it only now occurs to me that they’ve been there this whole time. Lenses remain smooth like new. Even the metal bridge is in good shape. I crack a smile as I put those bad boys on.

“Well, Your Highness: shall we get to work?”

---

HOPE for TOMORROW

---

“Just ‘Twilight’ is fine, Spike.”

“Heheh, okay.”

DEATH BY DRAGON
complete

*For no reason, until the very end,
The fire of Friendship still lives in our hearts.

...As long as it burns, we shall never drift apart

Author's Note:

In dedication to Suda51, and all subversive works of fiction.

Feel free to skip the next part.

Comments

[DarkDMan]

YES!

[Metroid Prime]

Did spike and sweetie belle ever have sex?

[DX-1118 C]

3162071 Hope so.