Far from Equestria lies a dragon. Before him is a photograph of him and a mare he once loved. He remembers the moments they spent together, the moments that made him who he is, the moments that explain how he got to where he is.
Alone and far from Equestria lies a dragon; before him, a photograph of him and a mare he once loved. He remembers the moments they spent together, the moments that made him who he is, the moments that explain how he got here, and the moments that tell him where he is going.
An airship had gone down in the gorge near The Dragon's cave two days ago. It bore an insignia of two alicorns. More importantly, it bore a great quantity of topaz and sapphire in its hold. The Dragon had praised his good fortune when he found it, and had made several trips back and forth, carrying as much as he could.
The find was not his alone, though. Several other dragons had picked up on the feast, visiting the gorge at intermittent intervals. Most of them were older than him, and he did not wish to start a confrontation, much less risk one of them stealing his cave and its contents. So this was his last trip. He had made a good haul and was content to let the others pick the bones.
The Dragon flew into the mouth of his cave – one of many jagged holes in the rockface. Hard to find unless one knew what one was looking for. A hundred metres or so deeper inside was his hoard, onto which he unloaded the topaz from his crop. He stepped back to admire the addition.
The pile, top heavy from his newest addition, shifted under its own weight. A portion crumbled into a tiny avalanche of gemstones. The Dragon sighed, momentarily filling the cave with smoke, and pushed the gemstones around a bit. Doing so dislodged something from beneath the pile. Something that was not a gemstone.
He picked up the object and examined it. It fit easily in the palm of his claw. It was flat, rectangular, made of wood that bordered glass. It looked like something he could barely remember. The Dragon stared at it for a little while longer. Of course. It was an image, lying just underneath the glass. The image was of two creatures: A pony and a dragon whelp.
The Dragon put the object down and lay on his hoard, disquieted. He was motionless for several minutes, trying to contemplate his riches, but the object – a photograph, he recalled – would not leave his thoughts. Giving in, he once again picked it up and looked at the image. Quietly, under his breath, in a language he barely remembered being able to speak, he said, "...Photograph..." And then, "...Rarity..."
He lay there, trying very hard to remember how the object had come into his possession, but without success. At some length, consciousness trickled away as the uneasy, semi-awake state that dragons spent most of their time in overcame him.
***
"Alright, girls," said Twilight, giving them all a stern look. "And Spike." She unfurled a map covered in numbers, squiggles, and a list, every item of which was ticked thrice. "I've got this all planned out, so you needn't worry. This is going to be simple, by-the-book, organised–"
"Candyfloss! Over there! Whee!" said Pinkie, bouncing away.
"Gah! Pinkie! We–," started Twilight.
"Come on, we gotta find the dodgems!" said Rainbow Dash, dragging Applejack along with her. "I told Scoots to meet us there. I'm sure the candy apple stand can wait. Besides, I bet you're the only pony in this fair who can give me and the kid some decent competition!"
"Rainbow Dash!"
"Yes, Twilight, I know. They opened the Daring Do coaster, you said it, like, a dozen times already. I'll meet you there at some point, okay?"
"Augh!" Twilight stared at her map in dismay.
Rarity kneaded the ground uncomfortably. "Twilight, darling, don't fret too much. Now, I really must find the less obstreperous side of the fair. I recall there being a nice little park with stalls selling some delightfully unique Zebraharan trinkets. To the northeast, yes?" she said, batting her eyelashes.
Twilight, looking defeated, checked the map. "Yes, yes it is... Fluttershy!"
Fluttershy, trying to slink away, froze.
Twilight's expression softened. "Remember there are some cute animals by the pond in the east, too, okay?"
"Yes, Twilight. I will. Thank you" said Fluttershy, smiling sheepishly.
Twilight sighed. "I guess it's just you and me, eh, Spike?"
"Well, actually..." Spike paused, trying to think of a way to justify himself. "How about you give me that list, and I'll check and see if everypony's doing what we planned? You go and have some fun and stop worrying about it."
"But if you have the list, I won't know–"
"Twilight, you wrote a spare list just in case, didn't you?"
Twilight looked at her forehooves.
"So, we can both have a copy of the list, you'll know what the steps to having fun are, and I can take care of the rest. Number One Assistant, remember?" Spike beamed.
"Okay, okay! Here," Twilight gave Spike the list and pulled the spare out her saddlebag. "You're going to check on everypony, and not just spend the whole day with Rarity, right?"
"Uh... Yes, of course! What makes you think I'd forget about my responsibilities and do something silly like that?"
"Oh, I don't know. Basic empiricism?"
"Empi-what-ism?"
"Never mind. Go on!"
"Thanks Twilight! Bye-eee!" Spike scampered off.
Spike ran through through the fair, alternating between bipedal and quadrupedal gaits. Over the past year, his forelimbs had become stronger and his spine had shifted slightly, making it easier to walk like a pony. He wondered who he should see first. He had taken on a responsibility, and absolutely had to stick to it. No screwing around. Now: Rainbow Dash and Applejack were on the dodgems, which would make them difficult to talk to. Pinkie was Pinkie, which would make her difficult to talk to. He didn't want to risk scaring away any new animal friends Fluttershy would be making. Which left...
Which left...
...Rarity! Well, that settled it. Responsibility absolutely demanded that he go and make sure Rarity was having fun in the less obseb... Opstre... Oppro.... In the quieter part of the fair!
Having left behind the sound of cheerful hubbub and whinnying for the quieter rustling of trees and soft spoken chatter of a dozen different species, he eventually found the stalls set along either side of a gravel path. He'd been right to come here, after all. Even if he couldn't find Rarity, many of the things sold came with delicious-looking gems. In particular, a sapphire brooch caught his eye. Spike fumbled around in his satchel, searching for bits.
"Oh, goodness, have you ever seen such a resplendent piece! How did you get the nacre and jet to whorl together in such a way?"
That was Rarity! Sapphire forgotten, Spike scampered towards her, tripped over his feet, faceplanted, got up, and attempted a rather more suave tetrapodal walk until he reached her.
"Alas, miss, I don't know," said the bespectacled quagga on the other side of the stall, looking at the pendant Rarity was holding. "I just transport the things from the natives who carve them. But I daresay you're right, this piece is unique!"
Spike looked behind him to the stall opposite, which displayed an identical black and iridescent whorled ornament.
"Oh, Spikey-wikey! You must come with me! You absolutely have to see this!" said Rarity. With the pendant forgotten, she dragged him a few stalls to the left to show him various ornaments she'd seen before he arrived.
Both pony and dragon moved slowly through the park, stopping on occasion when Rarity found something particularly notable. She was mostly observing and occasionally forking out a few bits. Most of her comments went over Spike's head, but to see Rarity being so passionate made the time wonderful nonetheless.
At length, they came a stall displaying all manner of intricate embroidery. By the side of it, eyes closed, with a long, tapering tail and splayed legs with carnivore's claws, basking in the sun, about the size of a pony, lay–
"A dragon?" Spike was a little taken aback.
"Not quite, no," said the creature in a feminine, lazy drawl, eyes still closed. "A perentie, actually. We'd like to say we're rather more cultured than such hoarding tunicate-wannabes. We'd be lying, mind." Scales of reticulated black against a background of cream, she made an odd match with the zebra behind the stall. She opened her eyes, grinning. Her tongue flicked out, and she looked at Spike. "You, however, are a dragon. How tremendously–"
"Varani!" snapped the zebra. "Please don't trouble the customers."
"Hmph," said the perentie, smirking. "Feel free to browse our wares."
"I'm sorry," said the zebra, now addressing Rarity and Spike.
"Not at all," said Rarity, smiling. "Varani, yes? A friend of yours, mister...?"
"Zakras," said the zebra. "Varani is my... Lover."
"Charmed! My young friend is Spike, and I am Rarity. Now, tell me, these pieces. Are they your own work? They're absolutely wonderful."
"They are, indeed," said Zakras. "Well, mine and Varani's; she has the dexterity, you see." Spike was entranced, watching Rarity work her magic. Charming, sincere, full of joy and wonder for all things beautiful.
Varani tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, kid," she said quietly. "Got a bit of a crush there, don’tcha?"
"No, of course not!" Spike protested.
"Worry not, I won't go blabbing. I must say, little tunicate, you've made a good choice there. Did you see, when mister xenophile there mentioned our relationship, that she didn't bat an eyelid? Not many ponies would have let such a remark slide without the slightest hint of opprobrium."
Spike didn't understand half the words she used, but he got the meaning: Rarity was amazing. Moreover, she had not the slightest issue with interspecies relations. The two reptiles watched in silence and adoration as the two ponies stood chatting about their art.
Varani gave Spike a conspiratorial smile. "I think there's something I can do for you." She turned to Zakras, who was still excitedly expositing about recursive spiral motifs. "O' darlingest darling of mine, I hate to interrupt, but since you're using this opportunity for networking rather than sales, might I suggest a photograph for these lovely creatures?" And, addressing Rarity, "How about it, my dear? One and a half bits for a copy. The two of you look so nice together. His scales perfectly complement your mane, I'm sure you'll agree."
"Oh, yes!" said Rarity. "That would be wonderful! What do you say, Spike?"
Spike mutely nodded, taken aback by the invitation. Rarity excitedly pulled him to her side while Varani dug the camera out from a slot behind the stall. Spike shivered a little. Rarity was right beside him. Her mane brushed his cheek. She gave her best in-the-spotlight smile; he didn't need to try.
And – click – it was over. Rarity moved away. Varani vanished behind the stall for a moment, waving an imagestone over some paper, and then popped back up. "You two look spectacular. Here, see." She showed them.
"Oh, yes, spectacular!" said Rarity. She moved to pay. Spike stopped her.
"No, miss," he said, wishing he had a fedora to doff. "I insist. My gift to you."
Rarity let out a little squeal of delight. Zakras smiled. Varani gave Spike a subtle nod, and returned to the grass to bask. Spike felt as though all was right with the world.
***
The sound of plodding claws and rumbling breaths snapped The Dragon out of his reverie. He was not alone in his cave. He dragged himself to full alertness and looked around. There was a shadow cast on the wall near the exit to the chamber.
Something was trying to be subtle; something was failing badly. The Dragon stood stock still. Silent. Waiting. At the exit of the chamber emerged another dragon. The Other Dragon was older and larger than The Dragon. Fortunately, The Dragon had the element of surprise. He lashed out immediately, catching the Other Dragon on the muzzle, leaving four bloody streaks. A metre higher and he would have taken its eye out, but he did not want to do that.
The Other Dragon retreated momentarily, taken off guard. The Dragon took the opportunity to attack again. He avoided the jugular, the throat, the eyes. He only inflicted shallow wounds to show that he would not go down without a fight. This time, the Other Dragon retaliated. It was less forgiving, aiming for his eye. It missed by inches.
This was bad. If it came down to a true fight, The Dragon would almost certainly lose. There was one option left. Risky, but it would end the battle immediately if it worked. He leapt forward, hoping the Other Dragon wouldn't expect this, or would treat it as a feint, and sank his teeth into the Other Dragon's right shoulder. His bit down, hard. He felt muscles tear beneath his grip. Blood filled his mouth. It was horrible. A claw opened a wound on his back. But he held on while the Other Dragon thrashed.
After a few seconds he released his grip and retreated back across the chamber. The Other Dragon snarled at him, but retreated and left the chamber. Its forelimb was out of action. It would not risk further combat with such an injury.
The Dragon snorted. His back was sore, and his mouth tasted vile, but he was otherwise unhurt. He lay down again, and took a mouthful of gems to drown out the taste of blood.
He had been lucky. He had come close to losing his hoard, and his eye. The thought of losing anything, especially to such a brash, thieving competitor, made him nauseous.
***
"Debonair Carnation," said the stallion. "And yourself, miss?"
"Rarity," said Rarity, fluttering her eyelashes.
Slow, meandering, and vacuous melodies from piano, cello, and harp filled the great hall. Rarity, Twilight and Spike stood by the table hors d'oeuvre, the latter two puzzling over the polysyllabic smorgasbord before them and wondering what to eat first. Spike was slightly bigger than the two mares now, and almost fully tetrapodal. Twilight had been talking excitedly about the geode in Applejack's bolo tie when this pompous-looking pony had waltzed onto the scene, brandishing manners and etiquette like a prissy sabre.
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Rarity. Might I trouble you for the next dance?"
"Oh, but of course!"
The two trotted off towards the dancefloor.
"Spike," said Twilight.
Debonair – Really? Really? His bow tie was lopsided. Spike's was balanced perfectly. Debonair's pocket square did not match his boutonniére – which was, in all defiance to his name, a gardenia. Neither matched his grey coat. Spike's pocket square and boutonniére were both emerald to match his spines. And Debonair's shoes–
"Spike!"
Spike jolted. "Yes, Twilight?"
"You're stabbing your claw with your fork."
Spike looked down. Twilight was right. He pulled the fork out, put it on the table beside him, and smoothed over the scratchmark on his scales with his embroidered handkerchief. Then, feeling a little self-conscious, he fiddled with his bow tie to make sure it really was balanced perfectly.
"Are you alright?" asked Twilight
"Yes, yes. I'm fine," Spike said, distracted. And, barely concealing a sneer: "Did you see his shoes?"
Twilight gave him a puzzled look and then grinned. "His shoes? I'm afraid I'm not quite the connoisseur that you are on such matters, mister upper-class."
Spike was silent.
Twilight's expression softened. She put a hoof on his shoulder. "I thought you'd got over all that."
Spike studied the ground. "I thought I had, too."
Twilight gave him a quick hug. Spike fixed his bow tie. She regarded him silently for a moment. "You know, you should go ask somepony for a dance. I'm sure there are loads of mares who would love to be asked by such an immaculately dressed dragon!"
Twilight had not gotten any better at reading ponies, but she had improved tremendously at reciting feel-good platitudes. They both knew that was false. Enlightened Equestria may have been, but at a gathering such as this a good portion of the partygoers would secretly sneer behind the back of any Earth pony who dared turn up, Element of Harmony bearer or not. Octavia was exempt, sometimes being patronisingly referred to as an honorary unicorn. Here, where the vile side of social hierarchy was so ingrained, a dragon had no chance.
"It's okay, Twilight," Spike mumbled. "I'll be fine." He looked at the dancefloor where Debonair and Rarity were twirling. Debonair's dance moves were so immaculate and polished that even Spike couldn't find fault with them. Rarity was beaming. Sincerely, Spike could tell. Not her smile of politeness and charm that could fool many a pony. Her teeth were perfect. Her eyes were... (Spike searched for an adjective that could do her justice)... Transcendent. Her mane was... Well, if such a word existed that could truly describe Rarity's mane, even Twilight didn't know it. Spike sighed under his breath. Oh, Rarity, he thought, I love you.
He was not fine. Seeing this felt like a punch in the gut.
***
"Tell me, Spike darling, how are things with Lyra?" Rarity asked a few years later. She was, once again, taking Spike's measurements in Carousel Boutique. He was not significantly bigger, but he had recently started to develop a third limb girdle which had made all his previous clothes unwearable.
"Oh, alright, I suppose," said Spike. "I haven't seen her for a few days."
"Hold still for a moment," said Rarity. She checked the length between the stubs just under his scapulae, and stood silently in thought for a moment. When she wasn't speaking, she held a row of pins in her mouth even though she didn't need to. Spike still thought this to be an adorable affectation.
"Right," she said. "Twilight thinks these are going to keep growing, continually thwarting our efforts to make you look dapper. But fortunately, I have the perfect solution! Some buttons under the seam here, and I can make this pad detachable so we can upgrade easily whenever it starts chafing!" She made a cheerful whinny. "So, you were telling me about Lyra, yes? She's such a sweetheart! So exuberant! I'm really quite jealous."
"We might be going bowling... At some point this month," said Spike, lamely.
Rarity stopped what she was doing and stood before him. She put a hoof on his jaw and raised his gaze to meet hers. "Things aren't going too well, then, Spikey?" she said, eyes glistening.
"No," he said. "Lyra's a great mare and all, but..." But she's not you. "...her obsession with my dexterity is getting a little wearing."
"Oh, Spike." Rarity pulled him in for a hug. "You've been so morose, lately. I don't know if it's an adolescent dragon thing or if you've got other troubles going on. But I do hope you'll get through it. In fact, I know you'll get through it." She released him and smiled. "Zakras and Varani will be at the wedding, you know. And, if things take a turn for the worse with Lyra, I'm sure Varani will insist she be allowed to introduce you to all the mares she can. Being the absolutely wonderful dragon you are, and with this splendid suit, I'm quite certain you'll have your pick of the litter! Speaking of which, I think I have everything I need." She coiled the tape measure and put it on on a nearby stand.
"Thanks, Rarity," he said.
"Think nothing of it." Rarity smiled. "And Spike? I, uh, appreciate that you're coming to see me again. What I mean to say is... Well, it means a lot to me that you would choose my service for fittings. Especially for a suit to wear to my wedding."
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.
The Dragon lay on the rock, staring at the photograph. Sweetie Belle had given him that photograph not long after Rarity's death. He'd taken it with him when he left. No, not left. Ran away.
He'd hidden a note one night, tucked the photograph beneath his scales, and flown south. He hadn't known where he was going, just that he had to get away from it all. Over several weeks he had flown across deserts and mountain ranges. He had crossed a sea and passed by a vast, ancient city filled with statues of dragons but empty of gemstones. He had kept on going until he could barely remember where he came from. Until he reached this gorge. And here, over decades, he began to build his hoard.
He had been a coward and abandoned his friends. But time had obscured the memories. They were hidden behind acquisition and hoarding, behind feeding, fighting and fornicating with other dragons. That little bit of mammalian brain he'd picked up as a whelp had been lost in a sea of barely sentient survival strategies. Hidden away so it couldn't trouble him any more.
Until now. Until that damned photograph had brought it all the surface again. He wondered why he kept it with him, even after all the trouble it had caused. Why it still gave him some sort of comfort. Why, for all the heartache it caused, he still didn't want to abandon the heritage life with the ponies had given him.
He looked up at the stars. He recited to himself all the constellations Twilight had taught him. It had been many decades since he had last seen – truly seen, not merely looked at – those constellations. Maybe there was something to this pony mindset after all.
***
"Now, isn't that just the most spectacular sunset you have ever seen?" said Rarity.
The last fraction of the sun peeked out from below the horizon, a magnificent but timorous animal slowly retreating into its hiding place. Above it, the sky saturated with orange and red, the clouds breaking up the monotony and turning the view into a great floating, colourful inkblot test; below, the calm rippling of the sea breaking up the sun's reflection into a thousand bloody slivers floating in wine.
The seven of them had spent that day at the beach, enjoying the opportunity to relax while the three new element bearers were beset by royal celebrations and accolades for saving Equestria from a jumped-up demigod who embodied archetypal anxiety.
"It certainly is somethin'," said Applejack.
Twilight frowned. "With that cloud cover, I don't think tonight will be good for stargazing." This earned her a look from Rarity. Twilight winced. "I jest! It's beautiful, of course."
Rainbow Dash shrugged her wings. "Well, I dunno about you lot, but I'm beat. Plus, y'know, I've got way too much work tomorrow. Practicing for another grand tour, if you can believe it. I'm gonna go hit the straw."
"Me, too," said Twilight. "Bed is calling." There was a general murmur of assent.
"Well, I," said Rarity "am still feeling rather sprightly! I think I'll be up for a few hours more. If anyone would like to join me, feel free!" She was holding eye contact with Spike.
"Oh, uh, yeah!" he said. "I think I'll stick around for a while, too."
"Okay," said Twilight. "Goodnight both."
"Don't have any awesome adventures while we're gone!" said Dash, grinning.
Applejack raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Goodnight, ladies," said Rarity. "And I assure you, we will not let any tumultuous troubles befall us until you're with us to enjoy them, Rainbow Dash."
As the five ponies retreated, Rarity smiled at Spike. "I'm in the mood for a walk. Shall we go investigate that cliff face? I've not been there before."
"Sure, sounds good!" said Spike, and the two trotted off down the beach.
They continued on in a comfortable silence for some time, watching the sun slowly slip away behind the horizon. When they reached the cliff, the disk was deep enough that they could see one of the openings in the rock face glowing with a faint, pale light. It was a dozen or so metres off the ground.
"Now that," said Rarity, "looks interesting. Shall we investigate?"
Spike spread his wings, triangulating on the opening. Then he stopped, and looked at Rarity. She held his gaze unwaveringly. Spike scraped his claw through the sand. "After all these years," he said, "you need only hint, and I'll still jump to do anything for you. Why is that?"
Rarity looked away, grinning sheepishly. When she looked back, eyes wide, it was no longer with a charming, charismatic expression, but a purely sincere and slightly troubled one.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I was being ever so slightly manipulative. But, please Spike, I would quite like to see what's in that cave. I really would appreciate it if you could give me a lift."
Spike relented and stooped down a little so Rarity could, with some difficulty, climb on his back. And then, with one tremendous beat of his wings, they were in the air. He flew up to the cave and landed, allowing Rarity to disembark.
The cave was just about large enough for him to stand up in. It was cool, but not uncomfortably so. The wet, undulating limestone beneath his claws was oddly comforting. With Rarity and him standing still, the only sound was the faint but insistent crashing of the sea upon the rocks below, echoing ever so slightly throughout the cave.
Spike looked up, and stood enthralled by the sight for a moment. So, that's where the light was coming from. The ceiling was bedecked with dozens of small, luminescent stalactites. Except they weren't stalactites. They were stringy. Soft. Slimy. A chain of damp, glowing pearls.
Rarity was standing, staring at the cave's lightshow in silence. After a while, she turned to him. Using the field from her horn, she gently detached a glowing point from the bottom of one of the strings and brought it down to her level. It sat there, floating in space, Rarity's field aura complementing its light.
"Twilight told me about these, once," she said. " 'Bioluminescent bacterial colonies suspended in mucus' was the exact phrase, I think." She put the blob back on its string. "There was a time when I would have felt nauseous knowing I was within ten metres of such a thing. Now, I couldn't care less about it save for its beauty."
Rarity walked over to a pool of water in the cave's floor and looked at her reflection, frowning and putting a hoof to her face to tug at the soft skin around her jaw and eyes. After a moment, she sighed and looked away from the water, at Spike.
She wasn't so immaculately put together as usual; her mane and tail were slightly matted by wet sand and had fallen away from the curls she usually kept them in, draping somewhat awkwardly to the side. It didn't matter, Spike thought. She still looked amazing.
"C'mon," he said, sitting by the entrance to the cave, looking out. "It's a great view."
"Quite right," said Rarity, abandoning the pool to sit by him.
The sun was no longer visible, and the sea was more active, churning and grumbling against the rocks below. They could not see the moon, but they saw fragments of its reflection in the sea; amorphous flowing bits of silver swimming in blackness.
"Spike," said Rarity. "About what you said down there –"
"Don't worry about it," said Spike.
"No. This is important. When we first met, I was a silly and capricious filly. I realised quite quickly that you were smitten, and I did nothing to dissuade you. If anything, I encouraged it. I threw my charisma around with no thought for the damage I could do. And when your feelings grew stronger I found myself bewildered and just fell back on my old patterns of behaviour, foolish and manipulative as ever."
Spike put a claw on her shoulder to stop her. "Rarity," he said, "I didn't love you for fluttering your eyelashes at me, you know. I loved – love – you for everything that your are."
Rarity considered this for a moment, and smiled to herself. "But still," she said, "I did not always treat you well. I am truly sorry. I consider myself tremendously lucky that you were willing to see past my less mature behaviour and that, even after everything I have put you through, I still have your friendship. You must know, though–"
Rarity was interrupted by a fit of coughing.
"Are you sure you're all right?" said Spike.
"I'm sure. Don't worry, I just need to–"
More coughing, which lasted longer. Spike put a claw on Rarity's back while her body shook. When she had finished, she took her hoof away from her mouth, looked at it with an unreadable expression, and wiped it on the stone below her.
Seeing Spike's concerned expression, she said, "Honestly. Don't worry about it. I've just had a rather tickly throat today. It's just the salt in the air, I think."
Spike looked out at the sea. "Okay, if you're perfectly sure," he said.
"I am. And don't think I've forgotten my lecture, you know." Rarity sighed and looked down at the stone floor in front of her. "What it comes down to is that I don't love you. I... Never have. This is through no fault of your own. You are a wonderful creature, sincere and genuinely decent. As much a hero as any of us former element bearers were. Celestia knows, Spike, I've tried to love you. I've wished that I fell for you rather than that complete and utter gelding Debonair, because I know you'd have been so much better for me. But as wonderful as you are, I can't make myself fall in love with you. And you don't know how abysmal and guilty that makes me feel."
When Rarity looked up, there were tears in her eyes. Spike, without a second thought, wrapped his wing around her and pulled her close to him. She leaned into him, luxuriating in the embrace.
"Maybe I've got as much to apologise for as you, then," Spike said. "You can't help how you feel any more than I can. My buzzing around you as a whelp, my constantly reminding you of how I felt... That must have hurt."
He felt Rarity nod. "A little," she said weakly. She took a breath, then pulled away to look him the eyes. "Perhaps I was wrong before," she said. "I'm not in love with you. But I do love you. Platonic yes, but love nonetheless. I know that may not help much, but–"
"It helps," said Spike. "It helps at a lot."
Rarity smiled tearfully. "It's things like that, genuine acts of compassion without any ulterior motive. That's why."
They sat in silence, watching the stars and sea framed by the soft, flowing curves of the cave's entrance while Rarity composed herself.
"I bore the element of generosity," said Rarity, "but the thing that has preoccupied me most in this world is beauty. Beauty is what unites the world. It can be enjoyed by the elite and downtrodden alike; from here in this nameless cave to the ancient architecture of Canterlot to the great dance of celestial mechanics above us. But, most of all, it's our expression that we are more than animals. We are... We can be such disgusting and brutal creatures. But that we can see beauty in the world, that we can recreate it. That is an expression of our transcendent qualities.
"It's that ideal that kept me going when faced with all the fickleness and avarice and skulduggery in my line of work. It is that ideal that kept me going when my marriage came crashing down around me. It is that ideal that sums up who I am and everything that I stand for."
Spike was silent.
Rarity closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "Where am I going with this? Alas, I fear my dramatic nature has got the better of me again. I don't mean to say that I ran on that alone. Without you, without our friends, I would not have been able to uphold that principle. Each of you has helped me become who I am. Without your support I would not have been able to truly understand any of that, let alone put it into words.
"What I'm getting at, Spike, is that you are, in part, the origin of that principle. In turn, you've been affected by it. We've grown into the creatures we are together, our ideals and beings are woven into one another. Part of you is me.
"I've always wanted to leave my mark on the world. All the beauty I've created lives in a world too ephemeral for that to happen. Debonair and I were close to trying for a foal. But, fortunately, I suppose, that never came to pass, and I don't think I'll get another chance at it." Spike made a move to speak. Rarity put a hoof to his mouth to stop him.
"Really," she said sadly, "I won't. Which means any chance I have at this lies with you. Spike, the most beautiful things in this world are our fellow creatures. Pony, dragon, griffon, whatever. And the most beautiful thing you can do is care for another. So what I ask of you is that you continue to be the wonderful, compassionate, magnanimous dragon you have been all these years I've known you. If you do that, then so long as you're here, I'll always be here. "
As she finished speaking, Rarity had her hoof on Spike chest, her face only a few inches from his.
"I will," he said. "I promise."
Rarity looked into his eyes for several seconds. Then she put her muzzle to his forehead and kissed him.
"Thank you, Spike," she said. "That means the world to me."
***
The Dragon lay, staring east. The sky was a dark, dusty orange. There was a blink of green at the horizon, followed by the bright, swollen edge of the sun.
He dragged himself to a standing position. His wounds still seared. He didn't care, though; a thought had come to him. The airship must have had a crew. He had seen no bodies near the wreck, and as far as he knew there were no carnivores native to the gorge. Which meant...
The Dragon took to the sky, wincing in pain as he did so. He had made some truly terrible choices to get him into the position he was in. That couldn't be helped. But right now he had an opportunity, one last shot at making a difference. He would not let that slip by.
The wreck was as he had left it. Cold, vast, and empty. There were no signs of habitation. He searched for several minutes, finding nothing. The crew were not here.
The Dragon sat thinking, wondering where they might have gone. Whether he should search the bottom of the gorge, or whether they might have made it to the lip and gone out into the plains beyond. Then he realised that he could smell smoke. It was very faint, but it was smoke, and it was not his.
He found the source of the smoke a few hundred metres upwind of the wreck. A campfire in the mouth of a small cave, left burning during the night, presumably to ward off any would be aggressors. He tapped very gently with a lone digit on the ground by the cave. There was no response. The Dragon searched his memory, trying to recall long blurred Equestrian words and sentence structure. No pony had come out of the cave, so he put his muzzle as close to the opening as he could, and said softly, "Hello? I... I'm not an enemy." Silence. The Dragon tapped again, louder. "If you're in there, speak. Please." Nothing. "I'm going to try and get you home."
He heard hoofsteps from within. And then, a voice. "You think you can get us home?" it said. "I mean, I– Really? Are you sure?"
"I will try," said The Dragon.
"Hold on, move your great mouth before you smoke us out."
The Dragon obliged. Moments later a mare appeared from within. Her hair was matted with dirt and dry blood. Her mane, lank and unwashed, hung over the side of her neck. And yet, for all of this, she looked imperious and dignified.
"A dragon offering help out of the blue? Forgive me for asking, but are you going to charge us for this? We're all out of gems here, as you've probably noticed, and I doubt either the Co-Operative or Princess Celestia would be willing to pay our travel costs at the destination."
"I'm not asking for payment of any sort. I knew Celestia. I need to see her again, to go back to Equestria."
The mare stepped out of the cave. Behind her, several ponies waited quietly.
"And you're willing to just take us along for the ride?" she said, trying to peer over his muzzle. "Well, I'm not one to look a gift dragon in the mouth. Or, uh. Maybe I am. But only literally. Anyway, I don't see that we've much of a choice. If we stay, we're gonna die anyway." She turned to the rest of the ponies behind her, "Come on, let's see if we can make this work." And then, to The Dragon, "Do you think you can make it? Equestria is a bloody long ways from here, and if you don't mind me saying so, you look pretty beat up."
The Dragon shrugged. "I will try, " he said. "That's all I can promise. I just need directions. It's been a long time."
The mare nodded. "Well, then, on behalf of the crew of the Zero Gravitas and the D. Hooves Shipping Co-Operative, I, Captain Hyacinth, thank you graciously."
There were twelve ponies in all. No fatalities. The Dragon thought it nice to know that even out here, far from civilisation, Equestria considered the safety and comfort of ponies a priority above all others. After some discussion, they had The Dragon tear the intact part of the airship's cabin off, so they could secure it to his back with cables salvaged from the wreck. Hyacinth pointed the way to Equestria, and by midday they had set off.
The journey was long. They passed a litany of geographic features. The ponies remembered them, The Dragon did not. Sometimes Hyacinth left the cabin, climbed onto his neck as he was flying and talked to him. She asked his name. The Dragon told her. She introduced the rest of the crew. He did not recognise any of their names. After some days, she asked him if he might like to hear stories. He said he would. She recited from memory the tales of Daring Do, and explained how these tales had inspired her to seek adventure by signing up for long range flights. Leading a mining expedition was nowhere near as exciting as being an actionista archaeologist, of course. But then, Hyacinth noted with some pride, Daring has never brought home anything as awesome as a real live dragon. The Dragon didn't point out that he was her rescuer, not her trophy. She told him why they were so far from home, too: Equestria was running out of gems. As its civilisation expanded, they had to look further and further afield to support their industrial base. She asked him if he was feeling okay. The Dragon lied. She asked if he knew anything about the great dragon city when they passed over it. He didn't.
The Dragon listened. It helped with boredom. Some of it was rather interesting. And, most of all, it distracted from his growing weakness, his growing pain as the muscles in his stomach tore a little more with every beat of his wings.
The Dragon had become noticeably sluggish and Hyacinth had given up trying to get him to talk about his injuries or slow down and rest when they arrived at a great swamp. The crew in the cabin began to whoop and cheer and neigh.
Hyacinth came out and said to The Dragon and said, "Hear that? We're now above Equestria. You can land anywhere here and we'll make it the rest of the way."
"No," said The Dragon. "We're going to Canterlot."
She sighed. "Very well," she said. "Just keep going forward, you'll know it when you see it."
The Dragon kept on going forward. He could barely register awareness of the the outside world at this point. Everything was either fatigue, pain, duty, or an annoying captain talking at him. That was okay, though. He was nearly there: Journey's end.
A few hours later, he saw it. A great cluster of ancient towers clinging improbably to the side of a mountain, an act of wilful defiance against the dreary realities of gravity and decay. A beacon of pony civilisation. Seeing it gave him renewed vigour. He forgot the fatigue and hurled himself onward towards the city.
The Dragon half landed, half crashed just outside the castle, crushing some flowerbeds in a part of the royal gardens. There was a great fuss around him. Members of the royal guard running or flying up to him, shouting at one another, telling civilians to back off, ordering underlings to call the Princesses and the Viceroy immediately. He was vaguely aware of ponies clambering off his back onto the grass, the shocked reaction of the crowd. Voices spoke of a great adventure and a heroic dragon. Injuries. Medical help needed immediately, they said. The world blurred and swam around him.
Celestia had arrived. She told him how proud she was of him. Then Rarity was there. She told him that everything was fine, and that she loved him. He told her she didn't need to. That he had done what he could to help other ponies, that he had her to thank for that, and that he had honoured her as best he could. On the edge of hearing someone shouted, he didn't know who. All six bearers of the Elements stood before him, smiling. No, he thought. They weren't really there. He was just hallucinating. He had to stay awake, The Dragon thought. Hold on until the Princesses arrive.
And then he thought nothing at all.
***
***
"He's back with us," said Discord.
The Dragon opened his eyes. So much for a nice, heroic, dramatic death, he thought. Looks like I'll get another chance to hold on to beauty.
Before him stood Celestia, Discord, Luna, and Twilight. Twilight was taller than he remembered, as tall as Luna. Discord floated by Celestia's side, paw inattentively caressing her mane. Celestia and Twilight had tears in their eyes. There were more ponies in the background, Captain Hyacinth among them.
"We almost lost you there for a moment," said Celestia. "Had Discord not seen you land..."
"Actually, we did lose you," said Discord, smirking. "You were quite dead. But your flesh was still warm. Lucky thing, really. The ol' ball and chain only taught me regeneration, not necromancy."
Celestia gave him a look, and Discord fell silent.
"Spike," said Twilight. "You're really back. I can barely believe it. You were gone for so long. I was worried you had forgotten about us."
Celestia and Twilight walked forward to rest their muzzles against his. He shifted his head slightly and plucked the photograph from its position, safely tucked behind the scales on his neck, and put it down in front of him.
"Welcome back, Spike," said Celestia. "We all missed you, greatly."
Spike smiled; he was finally home.
***
“You don't belong to her and she doesn't belong to you, but you're both part of each other; if she got up and left now and walked away and you never saw each other again for the rest of your lives, and you lived an ordinary waking life for another fifty years, even so on your deathbed you would still know she was part of you.” - Iain Banks, The Bridge
Extracts from Varani, Dragons: A Primer for the Interested Laypony
Acknowledgements
First of all, I should like to thank Erisian Publishing and its founder, Viceroy Discord, for giving this disgraced Canterlot University dropout a decent platform outside the stultifying, mirthless tedium of modern academia.
My husband, Zakras, has supported me even at my most incorrigible, garrulous, obnoxious, and emotional. And my two hatchlings, Ticktock and Mimsy, are transcendental expressions of the reproductive urge. My gratitude is unbounded.
Last, but certainly not least, thanks to Spike, former associate of the bearers of the Elements. As the only dragon who has ever been a citizen of Equestria at a time when knowledge of dragons was on the far side of nought, no less, it was Spike who inspired this book. Come home soon, Spike. Celestia will be waiting.
***
Gemstones and the dragon diet
Gemstones are one of those things, like light and water, that are so ubiquitous and fundamental to biology and technology that many of us fail to give them their proper due. Shallow aesthetics aside, gems function primarily as resonators with the thaumic field[1][2]. Though many living beings are magical in some way, it is only through biologically accreted gems that creatures such as unicorns, alicorns, changelings, draconequi, and giant portias can exercise such precise control over magic[3]. Moreover, the thaumic field provides seemingly limitless energy at the cost of degrading the crystalline structure of the gem channeling it.
Dragons are the only extant order of vertebrates that have adapted to utilise gems as a source of metabolic energy (of the invertebrates that use gems for metabolic purposes, all species of ecdychordates use gems as an intermediary to parasitise emotional energy via the thaumic field, and some nautiloids are known to scavenge gems when other food sources are unavailable[4]).
This has had a unique effect on their evolution. Gems do not rot. This makes hoarding food an excellent survival strategy. After a certain level of hoarding is reached, of course, a dragon's access to food is assured. Excessive hoarding behavior beyond that point is considered by most reputable academics (and myself, for that matter) to be the result of sexual selection[5][6].
***
Dragon development and lifespan
The fossil record is sparse enough to reduce any study in dragon evolution to mere speculation. I can do no better here than recite in a more interesting manner the commonly accepted tales woven by Princess-Professor Twilight Sparkle[6].
It is thought that the early gem-eating ancestors of dragons were r-selectors. They produced prodigious numbers of offspring, the majority of which died before they ever had the chance to reach adulthood. The harsh and variable conditions in which the offspring found themselves encouraged adaptability of a remarkable degree. The survivability conferred by this strategy eventually led to all know species of dragon to abandon r-selection and only produce small numbers of young.
Young dragons are intelligent and flexible, perhaps more so than any other animal. If alone, they become solitary scavengers. If together, they learn to work in packs. They are quite capable of adapting to the social lives of other species. The three most startling cases involve young dragons adopted by ursa majors[7], ponies, and even changelings[8].
The transition into adulthood is governed by various hormones, the production of which which can be stimulated by the acquisition of a sufficiently large hoard. A young dragon that obtains a hoard and a reliable means of adding to it can grow astonishingly quickly. But, even without this cue, the slow release of these hormones means all dragons grow up eventually, usually over a span of between two and five decades[6][8].
The transition to adulthood brings with it an entirely new layer of matter on the dragon brain: The avacortex. The development of the avacortex is far less flexible than the development of the young dragon's reptilian brain. It consists primarily of advanced pattern matching, and incentives and strategies for hoarding, copulation, and the like. [9] The academic community thought for some time that the behaviors instilled by the avacortex drowned out any behaviors learnt as a whelp, making the adult dragon intelligent but largely machinelike and nonsentient. Comparisons were drawn to tunicates, close relatives of vertebrates which in adulthood become sessile and absorb their own brain. To my great shame, I was a proponent of this theory for some time. Now we know that, though the mechanical behaviors in the avacortex often hold sway, the behaviors learnt as a whelp can exert a strong influence even on adult dragons[8].
***
[1] Eyeglasses, Thaumic Energy and its Interaction with Crystallographic Stuctures [2] Marks, Gems: The Great Industrial Backbone [3] Sparkle, Resonant Protein Crystals in Vertebrates, Arthropods and Polyphyletic Hybrids, Journal of Molecular Biology 16ANM, Issue 429 [4] Leafdew, A Trans-Equestrian Bestiary [5] Cirrus, Summary of Draconoidae Evolutionary Hypotheses, Journal of Natural Selection and Thaumological Based Evolution 21ANM, Issue 42 [6] Sparkle, Speculations on the Evolutionary Development of Reptiles of the Order Draconoidae, Journal of Natural Selection and Thaumological based Evolution 18ANM, Issue 30 [7] Dryquill, Behaviors of Dragonwhelp Found in Everfree Forest [8] Princess Mi Amore Cadenza's Journal as an Ambassador to the Changelings [9] Hammer, Neurobiology of Dragon Specimens found in the Grand Swamp
