Death by Dragon

by Compendium of Steve

Interim 2.2

Interim 2.2

It’s late evening when the train pulls up to Ponyville station, two days later. Decided to stay at Braeburn’s for the night after getting back to Appleloosa. Slept in the guest room (soon to be the baby room), caught the first afternoon train out. Luckily Trixie didn’t come over (had the decency to take a bath at her own place), so that allowed me to spend some good quality catching-up time with old friends.

Got to try those napoles. Felt weird on the tongue, but it was definitely refreshing, like a kind of aloe paste. I even got to learn what they would name their kid.

“If it’s a boy, I’d want to name him Jonagold, after my great-grandfather,” Braeburn had said. “If it’s a girl... well, I thought it’d be fair if Strongheart had a say in that.”

“Red Dawn would be a fitting name,” Strongheart said. “Warm, beautiful, and with promises of a bright future. Buffaloes believe that a name should tell of a newborn’s potential, and how they will shape the land and all those around them. To us, names are about as important as cutie marks are to ponies.”

“Gosh, hun. If that’s the case, I’d better reconsider my pick.”

“Hm hm hm. Oh you.”

A nice break from my usual days of work and solitude, but like any break, it inevitably ended. And here in the present, I step off onto a mostly empty platform. The evening lights are on, and all around the blanket of night has started setting in. My feet take me off the platform and onto cool, familiar ground. I start walking toward town in the direction of the Librarium. Always have to report in-person after every mission, even if it’s been days afterward. But these follow-ups are generally quick, so the sooner I’m there, the better.

Barely a pony on the streets, and the ones that are are heading for home or closing shop. I stick more to the outer part of town, where there are fewer houses, more open space, room to think. I don’t get that chance though, as a familiar flapping reaches my ears and a round tuft of feathers lands on my shoulders.

“Hoo,” he greets.

“Yo, Owlowiscious,” I greet back, still walking along. “I’m a bit surprised.”

“Hoo?”

“You usually don’t come see me once I get back. Been feeling lonely without me?”

“...Hoo,” he hoots with furrowed brows. “Hoo.”

“Yeah, I know there doesn’t need to be a reason to be polite. I’m just joshin’ ya.”

“Hoo,” he nods firmly.

“Got any plans for tonight?”

“Hoo.”

“Heh, really? Sounds like a hot night. Just don’t wear yourself out, alright?”

“...Hoo.”

“Heheh. You know I kid. Hey, I’ll catch ya at the library in a bit, okay?”

“Hoo.”

“I know that’s not what it’s called, but it’s still the same thing. Just more... glowy.”

He shakes his head and signs off with “Hoo” before flapping off into the deepening dusk. Nice avian fellow, Owlowiscious. Can take things a bit too seriously, but you couldn’t ask for a better listener. Not that I have anything major to unload on him (or anyone), but he’s great to just shoot the breeze with during off-time.

I bet Rarity’s will be busy tonight as usual. Won’t pay a visit, though. Mind’s focused on finishing things up and being able to relax. What that pertains to, we’ll see.

The ethereal lights of the Librarium reach out to the night sky, giving it a beacon-like quality to the confused and wayward. Least I figure that was the impression she was going for in making it all glowy as hell on the outside as well. In any case, I get up to the door and enter into Her Majesty’s realm.

Sword down, at attention, procedure as usual. Her Highness regards me atop the Collection.

“Hail, Spike. It comforts me in seeing you back safe from your excursion to Appleloosa.”

“Nice to be back, Your Majesty.”

She nods. “A rather unexpected turn of events, as gathered from your report. To think a heinous operation like that could be done on such a large, organized scale. It baffles me why anyone would do this, and to such a degree.”

Yeah, I happened to leave out some of the finer details of Boulderstorm’s motive. Just summed it up as him being “upset with overabundance of pony literature compared to buffalo works.” No need to complicate the ends.

“It’s puzzling, milady.” (thought I’d throw that one in)

“But it is with great fortune that so many books could still be saved, and that no others would have to suffer.” She bows with a flourish of her hoof. “I impart my sincerest gratitude further unto you, most wondrous Vanguard.”

I shrug. “Tis nothing.”

She stands back up. “As to the matter of Stampede Incorporated, in light of its owner’s horrid crimes, it shall be dissolved immediately. Its assets will be sold off in a timely manner, and all its workers shall be found employment in other companies and fields that befit their skills.”

Meaning several weeks of employment in the meantime. Maybe months. Poor dogs.

“Now, is there anything you personally wish to discuss?” She tilts her head slightly at me, encouragingly. Gotta be honest.

“Nothing, ma’am.” A nagging at the back of my head. “Actually, in regards to my report, concerning the involvement of the Royal Crier...”

“Yes, I’m well aware of Trixie’s actions, and for that, I’ll see to it that she be assigned somewhere a little closer to the center of the empire. I would be remiss as a princess if I didn’t recognize a royal subject’s valor.”

Trix is gonna owe me big next time we meet. (like “display proper etiquette” or “speak only when spoken to”)

“If there is nothing further,” she resumes. “You may take the rest of the night off. Report back here at twelve o’clock. You earned the rest.” I give a bow, one hand over the chest.

“By your leave, Your Highness.” I straighten up, grab sword, and head out. Just as I grab the door handle, I look up to my upper left and see Owlowiscious perched on a window sill. I nod at him, and walk out.

The night all to myself, I already have something in mind: home. Suit still looks a mess, and there’s a slight smell of blood and earth still lingering about. Gotta freshen up some if I’m gonna relax proper.

Home sweet home arrives when there’s barely a smudge of orange left in the sky. Key up, door unlocked, inside without a sound. I don’t bother turning on any lights in the living room, instead opting for the one in the bedroom. I open up wardrobe, move through the selection, and pull out a suit jacket (the shirt’s still fine). The worn-out jacket gets tossed to the hamper in the corner (not the nicest house, but I keep things tidy), and before putting on the fresh one, I take a moment to hold up my sword and sheath.

Been awhile since I last sharpened it, it occurs to me. I pull out the blade and look it over. No nicks or stains, surprising given what it’s been through (and what it’s literally been through). Expertly crafted, low maintenance, stays sharp far longer than most others of its type. An excellent medium for fire attacks. I pause to reflect on that thought (I think that’s been over twenty. Anyone been keeping count?).

Handy move set, my fire attacks. Devastating and versatile. Can take on a wide range of forms, given the right amount of imagination... and blood. Certainly a game-changer when the chips are down, and even a means to stopping the game from starting if I’m not in the mood for a proper fight.

It was three, maybe four years ago when I first learned how to use it. I wasn’t so wet behind the ears, and I had gotten pretty used to killing. Her Majesty tasked me with getting back a book on exotic remedies that was long overdue, and in possession of a certain local zebra. Since she was a good friend of the princess, I only had orders to maim her. Granted, Twi said it more eloquently and official-like, but that’s the extent of mercy she’d show in the face of her law.

I headed out into Everfree Forest, walking a path I hadn’t taken in years but still remembered. Made it to the hut without hassle (the animals knew who I was), but before I could touch the door, I end up getting snared. Then there was a quick skirmish between us (she’s surprisingly swift with all that jewelry), but in the end I couldn’t touch her. Amid my missing and taking hoofstomps to the head, she told me that though I was a good enough fighter, there could be something more (all in rhyme, of course). Potential that lay untouched, part of my natural heritage, that could make me even more fearsome in battle. Surprisingly, she offered to show me how to tap into this potential before submitting herself to be taken into custody.

I then had a choice: take her in, or do as I was told and acquaint her with the practicality of a cane. I wound up going with the former (she had me intrigued, what can I say?). Not quite as wet behind the ears, but still prone to hesitation. It turned out alright, though. A deal was worked out with the princess: Zecora would keep her body wholly intact, and in exchange she would provide mystical training to me, seeing how Pinkie had taken care of the physical part a long way back. That’s when I learned of the multiple uses of my fire, the power stored within my blood. How the two combined makes for a complete, monstrous package of might and magic. Zecora was also a more likable teacher. Patient, wise, considerably more sane. I learned very quickly under her, and I finally found a practical use for my “noble heritage.” Practical for my new job, anyway. Definitely proved useful a few months later when I had to take on two forest-dwelling enchantresses (I may tell you about that one another time). Shame she vanished shortly after my “graduation.” And having done a service to the kingdom, Twilight let it be. Awfully gracious of her, to say the least.

All that thinking done, I give my blade one last look before sheathing it. Sharpening can wait another week; all that reflecting kinda killed the mood for it, anyway. Sword to my side (never leave home without it, off-duty or not), I throw on the jacket, switch off the light, and head back outside (locking up, of course).

The stars are beginning to appear, bringing pinpoints of white to the dark blue of the sky. Along with the moon (full again), they’re the only light source for most of the area. Just about every house is pitch black as I walk by them, with the occasional lit window and street lamp to break it up. This town of simple values makes for some really peaceful, lonesome walks, but as you can imagine, its nightlife leaves something to be desired. Really no place to go when the sun goes down, except home, or Rarity’s (but that’s for a select crowd). One other establishment comes to mind, and I decide to head over there.

It can be hard to make out among the darkened buildings, aside from the small neon sign in the front window. Definitely a hole-in-the-wall kind of escape for the restless and insomnia-ridden, and especially those with a particular thirst. Besides, every town’s gotta have one in some form or other.

I step inside to a moderately warmer setting, with dim lighting and music playing so low it seems to intensify the sheer deadness the place is experiencing at the moment. Just a few patrons lounging about, most of them regulars, playing pool, cards, or to their addiction. I greet some of them as I cross the floor.

“Hey Berry. Pokey.” I get up to the bar and plant myself on a stool. The barkeep (keep forgetting her name) comes up to me. “Pinto Colada. Extra fruity.” She gives the slightest nod and gets to work.

Most tough guys go for a stiff drink on their down time, but I’ve never been into drinking anything bitter. And if I’m gonna drown away my woes and fatigue, I’m doing it with something I actually enjoy. Barkeep places a tall glass in front of me, sweating coolness and adorned with a tiny bright umbrella (I always liked those; I don’t care what anyone thinks). I pull it over and sip from the straw. Sweet, and very fruity indeed.

I nod, and she goes about her business. The minutes slip by as my drink gets emptier and sweats less. It’s that intermezzo in reality where time has no relevance, where it’s only me and whatever’s in my personal space. The sounds of the bar (what little of it) I can still hear, but it’s merely background. My mind wanders, drifting to the other day, the words spoken by Boulderstorm.

Noble dragon made subservient. Traitor to my species. Doesn’t exactly open any old wounds, given that they’ve scarred over a long time ago. Sure, when I was a kid I had questions about my identity, but that didn’t go over so well. Just stupid jocks and attempted cruelty toward protected wildlife was all I found. That might have sounded appealing if I hadn’t spent all my life with a race that had mastered agriculture and permanent housing, but that’s not how it turned out to be. Fate, destiny, accident, whatever the reason, I was raised pony. And having things like scales, the ability to breath fire and opposable digits doesn’t take away from that.

A fusion of heritages, Twilight once imparted on me during my last stints of doubt on the subject. A link between pony and dragon, combining the best of both worlds. The perfect excuse to enlist me as part-time diplomat whenever the matter of dragon relocation became an issue. Which inevitably led me to meeting with my “father” for the first time. Heh, swell reunion that was.

Drink’s about done. I contemplate getting another, or just sit here and dwell some more. That’s when my eyes get covered with something thick, yet soft.

“Guess who?” Oh boy...

“Hey, Sweetie.” She unwraps her legs from my head, and I look over to see her beaming up at me.

“I see that you’re back. How come you’re avoiding me?” she says in that playful, faux hurt tone of hers.

“Just got back in tonight. I’m only relaxing is all. Nothing to worry about, babe.”

“It still would’ve been nice if you came by to say hello, at least.” Now the lower lip quiver. Come on, girl.

“It was a long train ride.” I pause to sip whatever’s left of my drink. “How’d you know I was back, anyway? Did another check-out at the Librarium?”

“Nooo.” Shake of the head. “I did some shopping earlier and went to drop some food off at your place, and I found some messy clothes in the hamper. Afterward I only had to look around your usual hangouts, and wouldn’t you know it, my suspicions were right!”

“Wait, how’d you get into my house? Break a window or something?”

“No, silly, I used the key. I mean, for such a tough guy, you can be pretty obvious about some things. Besides, what kind of fillyfriend would I be if I didn’t know little things like that?” A wink.

“Yeah, you’re certainly something.” The barkeep comes over as I sip the last of the drink.

“Isn’t she a bit young to be in here?” she asks, in a casual-sense tone rather than a typical gruff bartender one.

“She’s cool. Nothing to worry about,” is all I have to say to get a nod and return-to-other-things from her. Sweetie, on the other hand, seems oblivious to what just happened.

“How was Appleloosa?” she asks.

“Alright,” I reply. “Scenery was the same, caught up with acquaintances, upheld justice, the usual stuff when I’m traveling.”

“Uh-huh. How’s Little Strongheart coming along?” Given the ties our local princess has with Appleloosian ventures, these things are made publicly aware in little time.

“She’s doing good. Should be a couple more weeks. Even told me names for it.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet. I bet they will look so precious.” Yeugh. That baby-talk’s disagreeing with me. Then I remember.

“Hey, before I forget, um, I left your cupcake dish on the train.”

“You did?” And there goes the lovey-tones (mostly). “On the way back?” I pause a moment.

“Actually... sometime before I got there. But I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Spiiiike, I liked that dish! It had a nice cover and everything.” Afraid that would be the case.

“...Maybe we could try the lost and found?”

She makes a sigh and leans her head on my arm. “What am I going to do with you? But I understand if other things had you preoccupied, so you’re forgiven.” She snuggles a bit, warming my arm. Very sentimental kind of warmth. She looks up at me. “Hey, since you’re off of work, how about we hang out? Not here, but maybe back at your place?”

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” I say before sipping at dry air from the cup.

“It’s not important. My grades are so good that skipping a class won’t do anything.”

“Not a good attitude there, Sweetie...”

She pulls at my arm. “Come on. I packed your fridge with all kinds of goodies. We’ll just sit around, have a snack and talk. I could give you a backrub and even sing to you while I do it. I’ve been practicing!”

Really not in the mood for having company, but there’s give and take in a relationship, right? Of course I could tell her no, but then she’d be hurt and moody the next day. She’s not bad company, anyway. And a backrub would be nice. The singing even more so.

“Sure.”

A giggle of victory (sly girl). “Great! Let’s get out of this musty old bar. Umm, no offense.”

“Meh,” says the barkeep as I toss my bits onto the bar top. They’re still rolling about by the time Sweetie pulls me to the front door, and I imagine one of them was still spinning when we get outside. She’s smiling up at me all the while.

“It’s going to be so much fun! I can cook up some popcorn, I could tell you about school, you could tell me more about Appleloosa and other things, and maybe do some cuddling or, hmm, something more intimate if you want—”

And on she goes. Guess fillies get overly talkative and excited over small things at this age, and they can severely wear down a lesser individual. But I handle it with the same stoicism I use for anything else. Still, I’m not indifferent to the enthusiasm she puts into her every word, her every genuine, bubbly smile of manipulative innocence. No doubt some of her sister’s charms rubbed off on her. And the look in her eyes, showing a joy at being around me. From being around me. Well, it makes it a bit more enjoyable.

She gabs on with the endless list of possible activities as we stroll through the silent town, flaunting our couple status as worldly possible to the night. Certainly worse ways to spend one’s free time.

Comments

[Pyro The Reader]

Huh, surprising, filler for this story is actually interesting. I like it.

[Fido]

This is just pure awesome. I love the alternate personalities they all have, well... most of them. Your writing is practically flawless. Keep going!

[Compendium of Steve]

2612807
Seems Sweetie Belle is disliked in any universe

[Fido]

2613082 I can't see why. She's one of the funniest characters in the actual show. Spike goes through hell every day so I can't see why he doesn't want to make the ol' girl happy once in a while...

[Compendium of Steve]

2613155
Having to kill defenseless ponies and crazies on a regular basis tends to kill the intimate part of him. Although, if he's really stressed, there's a type of relief that does the job, and which Sweetie is more than willing to provide

[Aura Zero]

I love this story!!!!!!!!!!