In Which Magnus Makes a Deal
Deep within what had once been an ancient earth pony keep, a dragon by the name of Magnus was tending a titanic cauldron heated by enchanted flames. Overhead, a host of will o wisps danced across the ceiling, filling the room with gentle light and dancing shadows. The golden dragon’s horns glowed as he levitated several barrels of ingredients over to the platform he stood upon next to the cauldron. Taking one barrel in his claws Magnus cracked it firmly on the lip of the massive bowl and pulled the two halves apart with the practiced ease of a baker breaking eggs for a cake. The fragrant mixture of herbs that poured out from the two halves of the barrel disappeared into the bubbling mixture below with a hiss and several puffs of smoke.
Repeating the process three more times, Magnus took hold of a long stirring spoon that in another life could have doubled as an oar on a galleon and gently stirred the concoction as it turned from white to green to red. Carefully dipping a claw into the mixture and raising it to the light he admired the near crystalline sheen the mixture before him had produced on his claw. It was almost ready.
Grasping an oak tun from one corner of the room, Magnus carefully opened the spigot and poured several gallons of viscous pink goop into the boiling, red liquid in front of him. The contents of the cauldron began to froth and bubble with even more intensity than before. Satisfied, the dragon levitated the tun back in the corner he had summoned it from. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he savored the scents of incense and lavender that was wafting out of the cauldron.
With a sigh, Magnus carefully slipped into the enormous cauldron that doubled as his bath tub and curled around until only his eyes, nose and horns were visible above the rolling foam. A shiver ran through the dragon as the boiling jewelry polishing potion tickled his scales and he briefly contemplated making baths a biweekly affair rather than monthly. He was interrupted by a dancing patch of discoloration on the bubbles directly in front of his nose.
“BLIGDLRS!”
Magnus rolled his eyes at the dirty bubbles’ garbled shout. Magnus lazily swept a claw across the surface of the bath in front of him, clearing the surface for just a moment to reveal a clearer glimpse of the shadow, but only for a moment as new bubbles rose to replace those swept aside. Reaching out with his magic, Magnus pulled a large mirror from its place on the wall and held it in front of himself. In the mirror, Magnus could clearly see a hairless biped in a pair of baggy leggings sitting atop his reflection’s head. “What is it Crow Dinger?”
“Visitors. A prince and his magus are sitting in your entrance hall.” The creature in the mirror replied with a smirk. Magnus let out a low hiss of disapproval as he started to rise from his bath.
“At this hour? Are they traditionalists?”
The biped waved his arms quickly with a nervous laugh. “No, no, no! They seek your services! Customers!”
“Tell them I’m not home and offer them a discount for their troubles if they return during the appropriate hours.” Magnus growled as he began to sink back down.
“I did, but they were quite insistent on meeting with you in the dark of night. Said they will return on another night if you don’t meet with them tonight. Besides, they aren’t here to buy any of your enchanted items or runic services. They seek a different kind of service” The impish servant replied leaning forwards to whisper conspiratorially, “He wants you to kidnap his daughter.”
Magnus’s eyebrow ridges came together sharply and his lips contorted in an awkward attempt to frown and grin at the same time, much to Crow Dinger’s amusement. The hairless imp was far less amused when Magnus nearly broke the mirror on the steps in his rush to get out of the bath. Tearing through the vaulted halls Magnus swept away the water and the bubbles that clung to his body with broad strokes of his magic. Stopping just short of the broad doors leading to the grand hall, Magnus pulled up short and took a few deep breaths before pushing open the doors and stepping through with as much dignity and grace as he could muster.
In the hall were two unicorns in heavy travel cloaks sitting on the cold stones. As Magnus stepped closer they both rose to their hooves and bowed slightly. Magnus returned the gesture and chuckled, “Gentlestallions, welcome. My servant has told me that you have an unorthodox request for me.”
“Indeed.” The taller of the two unicorns replied, pulling back his cloak to look Magnus in the eye. Magnus’s eyes widened slightly and he leaned closer to the stallion.
“Prince Silver Mane? Master of the silver market? I wasn’t aware you had a daughter, or else I certainly would have kidnapped her or made plans to at least.” Magnus said, chuckling as the prince took a few steps back away from the large face invading his space.
“I’m flattered.” Prince Silver Mane replied with a scowl so deep that the corners of his mouth were very nearly touching.
“Sorry, that came out all wrong.” Magnus coughed and did his best to get close to the pony’s head level. Steepling his claws under his chin, Magnus cleared his throat and smiled, “So you have a daughter, congratulations! You want me to kidnap her because why exactly?”
“I have tried and failed on numerous occasions to wrangle a fitting suitor for Phoebe because of… a number of reasons. The majority of unicorns still consider your style of princess possession and… open ransoming to be dirty, underhanded, and a terrible upset to the political status quo.”
Magnus rested his chin on a fist, watching Silver Mane’s lips as he talked. How the stallion managed to speak at all with such an exaggerated sneer, and without the aid of magic he must add, impressed Magnus. “I’m flattered. So, if my methods are so horrible, why do you want to commission my services?”
Silver Mane seemed to deflate a little and his head drooped as he replied, “Unfortunately, having a dragon target one’s daughter has become a… mark of quality. When dragons talk, ponies listen. Being well known as uniquely discerning in your selection of princesses, and one of the first to have ever proposed financial settlement instead of violence or simply eating them once they grow to be more trouble that they’re worth to you, makes you an ideal matchmaker. Regardless of the eventual outcome, whether ransomed back to their fathers or ‘rescued’ by a young prince, your interference makes them more desirable to other princes.”
Magnus blinked slowly. A smile crept across the dragon’s face. “And you want me to speak on your daughter’s behalf. Interesting. You still haven’t explained why you haven’t been able to marry her off yourself.”
Silver Mane sighed heavily and waved a hoof, “Show him.”
The magus’s horn glowed and the image of a pony appeared in the air. Magnus found himself looking at a mottled silver and grey earth pony mare with a build more suited to heavy labor than a throne. A silver hammer graced her flanks, and Magnus was fairly certain it was not the kind used to build. “I think I am beginning to understand, but why try so hard for an illegitimate child?”
“She is legitimate!” Silver Mane shouted and stomped his hoof with such vehemence that his magus was startled to the point of losing control of his illusion spell. The mare flickered and vanished as Magnus arched a brow.
“So, either you married interracially or somebody’s bloodline is not as pure as they thought.”
Silver Mane’s magus took a couple quiet steps away from his prince as Silver Mane ground his teeth with enough force that it was clearly audible. “My small kingdom lies on the border of the Frozen Plains, and my mines are actually in that wasteland. The barbaric earth ponies that lived there would not cease their harassment of my workers, so I married their chief’s heir. It worked, but her race won out in our only child.”
“How… pragmatic. I can’t say I’m sorry to see that it came around to bite you in the flank, but that’s hardly relevant. What are your desired terms and conditions and what do you offer me in return?”
“He must be a prince worthy of my fortune. That is all I ask, and I offer you anything up to a third of my fortune in value. As insurance that we will uphold our ends of the bargain we will form a blood oath.” Silver Mane grumbled.
Magnus tapped his chin thoughtfully, “If it’s going to be enforced by a blood oath, I’ll have to insist on half your worth and a specialized phoenix rune on the off chance that a more traditional prince manages to prove ‘worthy’. Assuming you don’t want some earth pony lord jumping at the chance to inherit your wealth, and further sully your bloodline, this is going to be an incredibly difficult sell.”
Silver Mane glared at Magnus for a while, but the dragon just smiled and waited. It wasn’t like Silver Mane could get this sort of deal from any other dragon. As far as he knew, Magnus was the only dragon willing to negotiate terms. Other dragons merely made demands, usually followed by ‘or else’. “Fine. Make the changes to the contract, Flintlock.”
The magus reached into his saddle bag and drew out a tightly rolled bed sheet. With a flick of his head the stallion unrolled the sheet to reveal the magical contract. “I made sure to make it of suitable size for all parties.”
Magnus nodded as Flintlock made a few changes to the terms of the contract. When the pony finished Magnus held the sheet up and a swarm of will-o-wisps swarmed behind it as he searched for hidden text. Satisfied he laid out the contract on the ground again as the magus began muttering an incantation. Magnus frowned and turned to look at the unicorn as magic danced in the air over the magus’s horn. Magnus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a beam of magical energy lancing out from the magus to burn a magic symbol into Magnus’s shoulder. The symbol was small, fitting easily on a single golden scale, but incredibly complex.
“Incompetent fool!” Magnus roared, flames dancing from his lips as he cratered the floor next to the magus with a fist. “You DARE to brand a dragon without consent?! If I had not already been intimately familiar with the base spell work for that rune you would already be a red smear upon my floor.”
Magnus raised his other fist, clenched so tightly that his claws had pierced his palm and blood was dribbling down his wrist. The magus cowered in front of the dragon, letting out a cry of fear as the fist slammed down.
Lifting his bloody claws from the contract Magnus growled, “Sign your half and get out. I have work to do.”
Silver Mane nodded and quickly drew a knife from his cloak and carefully pricked a fetlock before gently pressing it to his part of the contract. Arcane energies danced across the script and symbols covering the sheet before shooting out to strike both dragon and prince in the chest. No sooner had the light from the contract died away than Silver Mane and his magus beat a hasty retreat while Magnus continued to glare daggers at them.
“Well, this is shaping up to be an interesting little enterprise.”
Magnus turned to the mirror on the wall, one of many scattered throughout his keep, where Crow Dinger was leaning against the glass. “I already found her, she’s currently bathing. Angrily.”
Magnus’s wrathful glare was quickly replaced by a squinty eyed frown. “You mean she’s angry and taking a bath?”
“No. It’s a barely controlled tantrum pretending to be a beauty routine.” Crow laughed, and added, “It’s pretty funny to watch. Her bath is also open to a balcony, so if you hurry you might be able catch the tail end of it by opening the door to the outside.”
Magnus chuckled and rolled his eyes as he walked towards the door. Magnus paused at the door, “Why didn’t you tell me Silver Mane had a daughter? You are supposed to report all such things to me.”
Crow shook his head, “You ask me to keep eyes out for unicorn princesses and unicorn politics. If they didn’t have a horn I didn’t bother keeping track of them. I am many, but I am not infinite. The only reason I can do this at all is because you screwed up your incredibly experimental soul binding spell.”
Magnus grinned as he opened the doors, “Well, it didn’t work how I expected the first time either.”
Crow nodded sagely, “And that’s why- wait, what?!”
With a laugh, Magnus slipped out the gates and shut them firmly behind him. Crow pressed his flat face to the inner surface of the mirror, shouting after the dragon, “What do you mean ‘first time’?! Get back here and explain yourself, you overgrown gecko!”
~
Phoebe sat before her vanity mirror with silver mane brush in hoof. Forcefully dragging the brush through her dripping mane, she grimaced as the brush’s teeth caught on tangles and plucked the offending hairs from her scalp. Rather than ease off she only attacked the hair hanging from her head with greater zeal. “That idiot. Why did Aunt Filligree even bother inviting that fool up here! Couldn’t even pronounce my name! Pahoab! He pronounced it, ‘Pahoab’! And she calls me an uncultured brute!”
The brush caught on a particularly large tangle that brought tears to her eyes as the whole cluster was ripped from her scalp. With an exasperated shriek the mare threw the brush out the wide door that led to the balcony.
“Ow.”
Phoebe turned to stare at the open door, just now noticing the chill that was creeping into the room. She hadn’t opened it, and judging from that soft declaration of pain she had most likely just hit whoever was out there with her brush. Climbing to her hooves Phoebe trotted to the door, glancing to either side before stepping onto the darkened and very empty balcony. “Who’s there?”
A strange scrapping noise just beyond the railing gave Phoebe pause. The balcony jutted out from the rest of the tower she called her own and ponies weren’t known for their ability to scale smooth stone walls. Biting her lip, Phoebe slowly crept to the railing, hesitating on the edge briefly before leaning over to look down. Right into the glowing eyes of a dragon. Well, one of his eyes, the other was tightly shut, and with an unusual measure of calmness Phoebe reasoned that the brush had struck the beast in the eye.
“WhaaAAIIIEEE!” Phoebe shrieked as the dragon lunged forwards and grabbed her in both hands then kicked off the balcony to fall towards the small town below. Paralyzed by the sight of the lights rapidly drawing closer Phoebe felt her stomach keep going without her as the dragon spread his wings and abruptly pulled out of the freefall.
“Geez, you’re heavy for a princess.”
Phoebe blinked, distracted from the countryside rushing by beneath her as she processed the dragon’s comment. “I am not fat!”
“I’ve carried off many a princess, and even the meatiest of them was much lighter than you. I’m gonna call you Chubs.” Magnus chuckled and gently shook the mare in his hands.
Bucking and flailing in vain the princess raged against the dragon holding her. “There is not an ounce of useless flesh on my body, you dumb lizard!”
“Mhm, Whatever you say, Chubs.” Magnus replied with a smirk. The princess then resorted to language must unfit for royal mouths, in several languages too. However once her extensive vocabulary of profanities was exhausted the princes seemed to calm down and hung limply in Magnus’s claws for the remainder of the trip to his keep.
Magnus landed at the gates with a heavy thump. Holding the princess high in one hand, Magnus pushed open the doors and carefully crawled inside. Once inside, Magnus set Princess Phoebe down and turned to shut the gates. A very solid kick to where his gonads would have been located had he been a stallion surprised Magnus, and hurt far more than he would have expected, though a lot less than if his equipment weren’t stored internally. As a result he closed the doors with a great deal more force than was necessary, producing a deafening crash that sent startled will-o-wisps flying in every direction.
Magnus whirled around ready to face down an intruder, but only found the princess glaring up at him. She then promptly bucked Magnus in the face hard enough that he saw stars.
“Call me ‘Chubs’ again! See what happens then!”
Magnus rubbed his jaw and shook his head to clear out the last of the stars obscuring his vision. This was usually the part where he had to reassure the mare that he wasn’t going to eat her. Clearly that wasn’t necessary with this princess; assuming he had actually snagged the right pony. Mottled grey and white coat, check. Silver hammer cutie mark, check. This was the pony Silver Mane had indicated, or a body double that the prince had failed to mention. “You are Silver Mane’s daughter aren’t you?”
Phoebe snorted, “Why did you kidnap me? If you had intended to eat me I’d be dead by now. Can’t escape if I’m dead.”
A huge smile split Magnus’s face and his laughter echoed through the expansive hall. Phoebe took a couple steps back, eyes darting from Magnus to the doors, suddenly a little less sure of her assumptions. “What? I don’t find anything I said all that funny.”
Magnus waved as he gradually got his laughter under control. Wiping a few mirthful tears from his eyes shook his head, “Finally, a princess with some grey matter between her ears.”
“Make sense, dragon! I’m a princess, not some uncultured fool!” Phoebe shouted, her frustration winning out, again, over her better sense.
“Magnus, my name is Magnus. Magnus the Mercantile if you want to get fancy about it.” Magnus said as he crossed the room and scooped up the contract he had left lying on the floor when he departed. Tucking the document under a wing Magnus turned back to Phoebe he gestured to her with smile. “Would you believe that in nearly a hundred and fifty years of kidnapping princesses, you are the first to not just come to that conclusion, but the first that didn’t need to be repeatedly assured of the fact?”
Phoebe rolled her eyes, “Flattery will get you nowhere, lizard.”
“Really? It usually gets me everywhere with the other princesses.” Magnus smiled and began walking towards the door leading deeper into the keep.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you kidnapped me.”
“I’m a dragon. You’re a princess. Do I really need any more reason than that?” Magnus opened the door and waited for Phoebe.
The mare’s eyes narrowed and she scowled at Magnus. “You’re going to sell me.”
“It is highly likely that gold, silver and/or jewels will be exchanged in exchange for your safe release to an interested party at some point, but that is a long way off” Magnus smiled warmly in appreciation of the princess’ insightfulness. Phoebe rolled her eyes and trotted for the entrance.
“I’m going home.”
Magnus stared in disbelief as Phoebe grabbed one of the door chains and began to pull the heavy gate open. Magnus walked over and sat down so she would have to drag the dragon out of the way before the door could possibly be opened. Phoebe was unlike any princess he had ever encountered. “You are so weird.”
“Says the dragon who sells princesses.” Phoebe glared over her shoulder at Magnus as she heaved on the chain.
“I also sell rune stones and a wide variety of enchantments and enchanted items. However, dragons are not known for selling things in general so, fair point. Would you rather family sell you off themselves?” Magnus frowned and pulled on his horns with one claw.
“I’d rather not be sold! I am a princess, not a bargaining chip or bauble!” Phoebe shouted angrily, jerking on the chain so hard that Magnus actually felt the door push him out a few inches.
Magnus nodded, “What is your name?”
Phoebe scowled, “What do you care? I’m just merchandise to you.”
“I can be a fairly reasonable dragon if you give me a chance, and you are something special.” Magnus said as he leaned over against the gate, erasing what little progress Phoebe had made.
“What did I just tell you about flattery?” Phoebe snapped but she dropped the chain and sat down facing Magnus.
“If you don’t want to make small talk, then let’s talk business. If you go back home, you have little to no power over who you marry.”
“Thrashing them tends to scare most suitors off when words fail.” Phoebe retorted and Magnus chuckled.
“It does, but your father is an incredibly wealthy stallion with a great deal of economic influence. When he dies, all that wealth and power will be transferred to whoever marries you. Eventually, no amount of beating will be able to dissuade a suitor and you will be married against your will.” Magnus shrugged, “I am willing to let you have some say in who is able to marry you, beyond scaring them off with violence. Besides, as your dragon captor, scaring off suitors is kind of my job now.”
Phoebe stared at Magnus for a long time before turning to watch the will-o-wisps dance. “Are those lights of your making or are they something else all together?”
“Those are will-o-wisps.” Magnus turned to look at the little lights darting to and fro excitedly. “They were here when I found this place. Even after all these years I’m still not sure if they possess anything beyond a minimal empathic intelligence. They could be magical constructs but after a couple years of fruitless study I stopped trying to figure them out.”
“How much say do I get?” Phoebe asked quietly.
Magnus bit his lip and kept his eyes locked on the will-o-wisps above them. “We can set up a qualifying process to judge whether they are worthy or not. It’s nowhere near full autonomy, but if I offered that you might not want to ever leave.”
Magnus chuckled at his poor attempt at humor, but one look at Phoebe told him that it was probably too close to the truth for the mare to find amusing. She sighed heavily, “Fine, but can we decide it in the morning? I.. I need time to think about… everything.”
“If you would follow me, I will lead you to a room that I have prepared for you. It’s an offshoot of my hoard chamber, so it is quite secure.” Magnus said as led Phoebe deeper into his keep until they were standing in his hoard room. A massive pile gold and jewels stood before them and Phoebe stared up at it in awe. While the equine was no stranger to wealth or exorbitance, a dragon’s hoard was a tier unto itself far above that of any pony. Magnus ignored the fortune and gently opened a pony sized pair of doors to reveal a sparsely decorated bed chamber.
The only furniture in the room was a large bed and wardrobe, but the floors were covered in luxuriant red carpets and the bed itself was fit for a queen. Phoebe frowned as she walked up to the bed. “Where did you get this?”
Magnus chuckled, “I am not called Magnus the Mercantile for nothing. I obtained all this through trade.”
“But why? I actually assumed I would be sleeping on a cot or even the ground.”
“The majority of princesses would sooner lay awake all night whining than sleep on anything less than a down comforter.” Magnus grimaced, recalling many a night when not even several hundred pounds of gold could drown out that piercing sound of a whining female. It was amazing how quickly a princess’s sense of self-preservation went out the window when faced with the very idea that they wouldn’t be pampered. Magnus suspected that such a thing was the main cause of dragons eating their princesses after a few months. “I wasn’t in the princess nabbing business for long before I was persuaded of the merits of having a quality bed available.”
Phoebe carefully climbed into the bed, her powerful frame sinking deeply into the soft mattress. “I see.”
Magnus did his best to bow within the field of view granted by the doorframe. “I will leave you to your thoughts, Princess Phoebe.”
Phoebe lifted her head to look at Magnus, but the dragon had already shut the doors and left. Phoebe lay back down on the mattress and stared up at the handful of will-o-wisps that danced about the darkened room, leaving trails of afterimages in the dark. Grabbing one of the pillows she clutched it to her barrel as she struggled to get comfortable.
“Too soft.” She muttered before throwing the pillows and bedding to the floor. The earth pony followed shortly after, arranging the bedding and pillows to her taste before lying down herself. The corners of her mouth turned upwards in a small smile as she sighed. “Much better.”
Outside in the hoard room, Magnus was going through his own nightly routine. The dragon happily squirmed his way underneath his horde, reveling in the feeling of the cool weight of gold against his scales. His nose broke the surface of the hoard and he let out a long and steam filled sigh of contentment. All in all it had been an interesting evening. His boiling polish bath had been a wash, though he could reheat the mixture in the morning if there was time, but he had acquired a very peculiar princess. By his measure, regardless of what the days to come held in store, things were good.