Spike stared up at Al’Kair. The wind blew across the sands, briefly silencing Spike. Finally, he found his words.

“Isn’t Hoofof where Hakem’s at? How do you think you’ll do that? Are there that many still loyal to the king?”

“I have four thousand loyal soldiers to King Amal,” Al’Kair replied, looking behind him to the dozens of men sitting ruggedly on horses. “We have been gathering any willing to fight against him, but almost every town we knew were once loyal to King Amal have been destroyed. The bodies of those that were there were left to rot in the sun.”

“I’m sorry,” Spike said. “It’d tear me up having Equestria like this, so I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

“I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.” Al’Kair sighed, looking to Durriyah. “This was something that my king was too blind to see…” he paused, kneeling over to put a hand on top of the little girl’s head. “She’s close to the same age Amira was when her parents died.”

“What’s gonna happen to her?” Spike asked, a part of him guessing the answer already.

“We can’t leave her here,” Al’Kair replied. He lifted her up with an arm, and wiped her tears away with a free hand. “just as we can’t leave you either.”

At that moment, Al’Kair raised his hand, signaling to some of his men. A small group of them stepped forth with a beautiful grey horse. It snorted, shaking its jet-black mane.

“This is Hidalgo,” Al’Kair said, placing his hand on the beast’s withers, “he’s one of the finest horses I’ve ever known.” He looked to Spike with an aged weariness. “On our travels, I pray he serves you as well as his previous owner.”

“I understand,” Spike answered. He looked eventually at Al’Kair. “I’m going with you to Hoofof, and I’m going to save Amira.”

Al’Kair tilted his head, a rare look of surprise on his face. “the impression she left on you must’ve been great if you wish to save her.”

“Your daughter, in the time I knew her, was one of the best things in this country. I can’t imagine not seeing her again,” Spike answered in a rare show of bravado. “She’s why I’m willing to try and stop Hakem.”

The man raised a brow. “I see,” he simply said. “Well, if you wish to stop the bastard, then mount up.” He walked over to Spike, presenting Durriyah to him. “Take the girl with you, she’ll be too much of a burden for our armored riders.”

“Of course,” Spike replied with a nod. He looked at the girl, thinking hard on what to say, before giving an uncertain shrug. “You’re alright. Ok? Just… remember that.”

Durriyah responded by clinging to the loose parts of Spike’s clothes and burying her head into Spike’s chest, too tired to cry anymore. Spike’s arm wrapped around her as he inspected Hidalgo. He looked once more to Durriyah.

“Have you ever rode a horse before?” he asked gently to the girl, doing his best to keep her distracted.

Durriyah looked to Hidalgo, then to Spike, before uneasily shaking her head.

“Well, they’re nice things. Just pretend they’re like a big dog, be nice to them and they’ll be nice to you,” Spike instructed, giving the beast a small, gentle stroke at its side. “Try it.”

Durriyah looked to Spike uneasily before turning her attention back to the horse, watching him gently stroke its fur. Moments later, she stuck out her tiny hand and placed it on Hedalgo’s neck. He flinched at first, but soon enough he calmed down and let her continue to stroke him.

“See?” Spike asked kindly. “I think he likes you.”

She looked up to Spike for a moment before retreating into herself once more, pulling Spike’s clothes over her face. Spike offered a pencil-thin smile, still mindful of what just happened.

“Come on then, Durriyah. I’ll keep you safe.” He bit his lip. “And we can, uh, talk about this, if you want, on the ride.”

Though he didn't look like it, Spike did know his way around horses, thanks in part to times at Applejack’s farm and learning a few tricks of the trade from Shining Armor, so after the girl climbed up, Spike expertly followed, one foot in the stirrup, then swinging over to the saddle. He grasped the reins and gave them a small flick.

Without hesitation, the horse pushed forward into a well-paced trot across the desert sands. He paused a few paces out and turned the horse around, rejoining Al’Kair’s side.

“He rides well. The man who had him before did a good job training him,” Spike said to the man.

“Indeed,” Al’Kair agreed, “we’ll be moving out in a few minutes, we expect to be outside of Hoofof by this time tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan when we get there?” Spike asked. “A frontal attack wouldn’t work. Uh, would it?”

“It is our best option,” Al’Kair replied, much to Spike’s dismay, “Hoofof is surrounded by a wall that rivals Rideah’s, there aren’t many other means to get in.”

“But if there’s a full-on battle, Amira might get hurt in the confusion,” Spike countered.

“If anything Hakem sees Amira as a trophy,” Al’Kair plainly said, only a slight narrowing of his brow showing how much the thought infuriated him, “he would keep her deep inside the palace walls to… preserve her. Harm would more than likely not meet her there.”

“He might make her a hostage. Especially if he realizes you’re leading the units.”

“War is a dangerous profession,” Al’Kair replied, calling forth his massive horse with a sharp whistle, “I will do what I must to save as many lives as I can. I mustn’t let my own personal feelings jeopardize the lives of tens of thousands.”

“What if there was another way?” Spike blurted out.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Someone sneaks into the palace, rescues Amira…” He swallowed. “And, and kills Hakem? You cut off the head of a snake and that usually takes care of the body.”

“That would work.” Al’Kair shrugged, watching as his horse approached. He swung a leg up and rose atop its saddle. “But we still don’t know how many men Hakem has swayed to his cause, let alone those he has forced into fighting for him. For all we know the only way to enter the city would be to make our own door.”

“For an army division, maybe kicking the wall down would work better. But it’s a lot easier for a drop of water to get through a crack unnoticed than a whole river.” Spike gave an unsure rise of his shoulders as he patted the horse’s side. “Do you get where I’m going here?”

Al’Kair let out a deep sigh before shaking his head. “You want to do the impossible,” he replied, looking to the moon. “They’d shoot you just as quickly as they’d shoot me, because you’re a foreigner. Hakem is as paranoid as he is cowardly, I wouldn’t put it past him if he’s already slain all Non-Saddle Arabians within Hoofof’s walls.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Spike countered.

“Your adamancy is quite unusual,” Al’Kair replied, his face unreadable in the pale moonlight, “your willingness to risk your life for one you barely knew is… interesting.” Al’Kair led his horse towards Spike, his height towering over the boy so much it felt like an eclipse. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

The boy took in a breath, calming his steady hands. “Because I don’t just barely know her, Al’Kair. In a sense, I do, I guess, but… there’s more to it than just time.”

“I see…” Al’Kair replied, cocking his brow before looking to the north, “I believe we have stalled here long enough. We should travel a few miles north before setting up camp, too much death here as it is.”

Spike nodded. “I agree.” He looked at the bodies. “I guess there’s no time to bury them, is there?”

“Not now…” Al’Kair sighed, shaking his head, “but by this time tomorrow the sand will make them impossible to find, the best we can do is pray that their souls will know rest.”

“I understand,” Spike glumly replied. “And I’m sure they do too.”

He gave a small kick to the horse, pressing it onward into the chilling night.

They rode as a group for an hour, before a few men that were scouting ahead came to meet them and guide them to clearing in the sands, a few threadbare sleeping bags and a makeshift fire fueled by whatever twigs and grasses they were able to gather in the sands. Spike dismounted his horse, then took Durriyah’s hand and helped her off.

“It’s not much, but you can use some of my clothes in my bag for a bed, if the sleeping bags are spoken for,” Spike instructed, handing his backpack to the girl. “Alright?”

She nodded, but kept close to Spike’s side, not willing to let go of him in the mass of people who were preparing to bed down for the night. Looking down to her he shook his head. It may have still been shock going through her, or the fact that she was so young, but she was taking the situation much better than he would have ever hoped. The only downside was that she was very clingy, but there were worse things to be.

“It gets cold on nights like this,” Al’Kair said from behind Spike, “come, take a place by the fire at my side, I’m rather eager as to hear how you managed to come this far alone without being eaten.”

“Guess I just don’t taste good,” he answered, walking to the fire and sitting down cross-legged.

“Wurms in the desert aren’t known for being finicky,” Al’Kair replied, “there’s something special about you dragonkin, that girl sees it just as well as I.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” Spike answered with a slight smile. “I just keep lucking out, is all.”

“Luck in itself is special Spike,” Al’Kair laughed, watching Durriyah take a place on Spike’s knee, “and the fact that you seem to have endless amounts of it is nothing to toss aside.”

“Luck runs out eventually, Al’Kair. I’d rather have something else,” he answered, giving a small shake of his knee to bounce Durriyah up and down.

Durriyah rocked back and forth on Spike’s knee, smiling to herself as she did so. Her face alone was enough to ease some of Spike’s thoughts, but the shadow of the colossal man beside him reminded him of a fact. He’d have to tell him of Amira eventually, and sooner than later.

It would be far sooner than he had planned..

He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t notice Durriyah had reached towards his neck and started to pull at the silvery chain that rested around it. Before he realized what was happening she pulled out the precious gem that clung tightly to the chain for all the world to see. He usually wouldn’t have cared that much, but Al’Kair was already suspicious of him. If the warrior saw the jewel around his neck, he may as well just kiss his ass goodbye then and there.

“Durriyah,” Spike hissed out quietly. “Can you stop doing that, please?”

“Doing what?” Al’Kair asked, much to Spike’s dismay, “she doesn’t seem to…” He paused, looking down to Spike and Durriyah, his eyes focused on the object held tightly in the young girl’s palm. “W-where did you get that?” he questioned, the growl in his voice deeper than usual, “who gave that to you?”

Spike sucked in a sharp breath. He knew lying would get him nowhere here, so after a moment, he turned to face the music. “Amira. Amira gave it to me.”

There was a silence around the fire, the only thing making any noise being the crackling embers beneath the flame until finally, Al’Kair spoke. “My Amira…” he said looking down to Spike, “my Amira gave my late wife’s rose… to you.”

“She did,” Spike finally answered with a nod. “And I accepted it.”

There was another long pause, only this time several of the men backed away from the fire, giving the big man space if he needed it. “No…” he growled, rising to his feet his hands clenched in anger, “no, you couldn’t… it’s impossible, you would never…”

Spike looked to the girl in his lap. “Durriyah, Al’Kair and I need to talk. Can you sit by the fire for a bit? I’ll be back in a second, ok?”

She looked to Spike with unsure eyes, and then to the titan of a man that was Al’Kair, before grabbing Spike’s pant leg tightly, pulling at it to try and move him away from the giant. Spike dropped to a knee and wiggled her hand free, giving a small smile to reassure her it’d be alright. Granted, how much he believed that himself was up for debate, as it was obvious Al’Kair seemed to grow madder by the second. He exhaled, rising to his feet.

He turned, trying desperately to recall everything Twilight had ever told him about negotiating with a hostile party. “Let’s talk privately, away from the camp,” Spike said, trying to keep his face with as neutral of an expression as possible to hide the fear creeping at the back of his mind.

“Yes,” Al’Kair growled, grabbing Spike by his duster, “let’s.”

Before Spike could object Al’Kair drug him away from the fire and through dozens. He was helpless to stop him, any man less than Macintosh himself would’ve been. Almost a minute later Spike was lifted from the ground then flung through the air, then landing with a painful thud on the sand. He rose to his feet, wincing and putting a hand to where he had landed, his ribs aching from the impact, but his eyes focusing on the man who stood opposite of him, and the crowd of soldiers gathering in a loose circle around them.

“Al’Kair,” Spike said, brushing off his clothes, a small spark of anger creeping into his thoughts. “That’s enough.”

“No,” Al’Kair growled, “it’s not…” The large man stepped forward, his shadow towering over Spike in the moonlight. “Somehow you’ve managed to sway the one thing I have left in this world, and I want to know how.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t sway her, she came to me. And I’m thankful for that, because she’s a good woman. Better than I deserve.”

“You’re damn right,” Al’Kair agreed, still looming over him, “any man is better than Hakem, but for her to come to you, a boy? Not even willing to fight for what you believe in? Or what you want? How could she possibly desire a man who refuses to stand on his own?”

That actually got him. He narrowed his brow. “And yet I’m here, talking about sneaking into Hakem’s palace to save her. For not being willing to fight, I’ve sure come a long way from Equestria.” Still glaring at the man, he put a hand on his hip. “Maybe she saw my reluctance to let blood flow on the sand refreshing, compared to some of the people she’s surrounded by.”

Al’Kair reacted quickly, grabbing Spike by the collar of his duster and lifting him with one powerful arm into the air as the gathering crowd cheered. “You have no idea…” he growled, bringing the struggling boy close to his face so he would look him in the eye, “the things I did to keep her safe… the things I did to keep her alive!” with a disgusted grunt, Al’Kair threw Spike again to the ground, prompting another wave of cheering from his men. “Tell me Spike,” he said in an eerily calm tone, “would you do anything to save her? Anything?”

“I already told you what I was going to do,” Spike answered, rising once more back to his feet.

“That wasn’t my question…” Al’Kair replied, “I know what you’re planning to do, I want to know what you’re willing to do.” He paused, almost blocking the moon with his mass. “So I’ll ask once more, are you willing to do anything to save her?”

“Anything that’s necessary,” Spike replied, meeting his gaze. He shook his head. “Al’Kair, I’ll say it again, enough. If you trust your daughter in any sense of the word, you’d know she wouldn’t have given me this without reason,” he stated, giving a small pat to where the necklace sat under his shirt. “She believes in me, and I won’t let that belief be in vain.”

“I do trust her,” Al’Kair replied, the edge in his voice fading, at least for a moment, “and I know that she has faith in you, but…” Al’Kair’s hand slowly moved to the pommel of his sword. He rested his hand on it, but it was a tense peace, a calm before a storm. “I have always been a man who must see to have faith.” Within an instant, the weapon was drawn, the steel shining in the moonlight like the finest silver. Spike flinched the moment the sword was aimed in his direction, he looked to Al’Kair, Spike’s uncertanity a stark contrast to the determination on Al’Kair’s face. “Prove to me you’re worthy of the pendant around your neck.”

“Al’Kair…” Spike trailed off. “Do you not realize what’s going on tomorrow? What if you get hurt? Who would lead your men?”

“Prove it!” Al’Kair roared. He shot forward with the speed of a gun, taking a heafty horizontal swing toward Spike.

Spike hopped back from the strike, holding his hands up defensively. “You’re acting crazy!” he barked. “I’m not even armed! Put away your sword, Al’Kair, you’re not thinking straight.”

“There are times you must fight,” Al’Kair retorted, raising his sword once more, “you won’t always have a choice in the matter!” Spike barely avoided another swing, but it was close, close enough that he felt vibrations from the ground where the sword struck. A second later and he could of been cleaved in two. “I learned the hard way, and it seems you must learn the same way as well!”

“This isn’t right,” Spike snapped back, twisting his body as an overhead blow came frightening close to his arm. “I won’t fight you!”

Before Spike could continue, Al’Kair’s forearm snapped forward, connecting hard with his nose. Spike stumbled backwards into the ring of men surrounding them. Blood poured out of his nostrils and dozens of hands slapped and pushed at his back, trying to force him back into the ring admist their frenized yelling. Finally, one hard push stumbled him forward and dropped him to a knee. Rising on unsteady feet, he could just barely tell from his blurred vision that Al’Kair was approaching him. The slow, deliberant gant of the man silently mocking Spike with every step.

Spike rose and hobbled away a few more feet from the man amidst loud boos from the crowd.fell squarely on his face, knocking him into the ring of men that surrounded them, blood poured out of his nostrils as the deafening roar of the crowd assaulted his ear drums. He rose on unsteady feet, his vision only just enough to see that the giant was approaching him. Hobbling away as best he could while the crowd booed and hissed in mockery of him, Spike took a moment, just a moment to think. Think of what to say, think of what to do, think about if there even was an answer here.

There was nothing he could really do aside from tell the truth to Al’Kair and try and make him understand.

“What do you see yourself as?” Spike said, wiping at the blood pouring from his nose. “Right now?”

“A man trying to prove a point,” Al’Kair replied, grabbing Spike by the shoulder and throwing him easily to the ground for not the first time that night. “There are times when you must trade your olive branch for the sword.” Al’Kair’s blade rested mere inches from the boy’s throat.

“Know what I see? A frustrated man pretending that he’s proving a point,” Spike snapped, finally irritated and hurt enough that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the sword near his adam’s apple. “I don’t know what your life was like before her, but that doesn’t give you the right to do this. That doesn’t give you the right to pretend you’re high and mighty, when you’re nothing more than a shade of Hakem right now!” He looked at the crowd around them, their jeering at his inaction making him once more suck in a breath. “If Amira saw you now, what would she think? Would she be proud, her father, attacking an unarmed man for the sake of a ‘lesson?!’” He grit his teeth and narrowed his brow. “There are times when I’ll have to fight. I’m not stupid, it’s going to happen. But… this isn’t one of them.” He pitied the man, but that didn’t stop the anger he felt. He pushed it to the side, though, and kept his cool. “Sheath your sword, Al’Kair. You know this isn’t right.”

The crowd fell silent, all eyes falling on Al’Kair, waiting for the man to take action. It may have been seconds, or even hours, Spike neither knew or cared how long it took. He stared at the man without flinching. Al’Kair, deep down, was a man of tradition and honor. He had to see reason here. He had to.

The blade left Spike and was thrown into the sand. Spike looked over at the blade, it shining like a lighthouse cutting through darkness under the moonlight.

He looked back up to Al’Kair, the man’s eyes seemed filled shame. He around and wordlessly proceeded back to the camp, leaving his sword resting in the sand at Spike’s side. The crowd was in silent awe, parting as Al’Kair pressed forward until he was no longer in sight. With that, the crowd’s bloodlust seemed to be sated and they shared glances at one-another, confused and in a daze.

Spike finally rose, shuffling unsurely on his feet as he stared towards where Al’Kair vanished off to. Looking first to the crowd, then at the blade buried in the sands, he walked over, picking the sword up and heading back to the camp proper, doing his best to ignore the curious glances the others gave him.

Al’Kair sat once more by the fire, the orphan child resting on a knee. The others seemed to be giving him a wide berth, so Spike took the oppertunity and moved to him, sitting by the man.

“She’s about the same age as Amira when I took her in,” Al’Kair quietly said, patting Durriyah on the head. After a moment, she crawled away and moved to Spike’s lap, “or have I already told you that?”

“I think you might have,” he said with a nod, looking at the girl. “It must of been hard.”

“It would’ve been easier with Cala,” Al’Kair sighed, his eyes still focused on Durriyah. “She had such a way with children… always so gentle.”

“I’m sure she was a good woman.”

“She was.” The Arabian thoughtfully nodded, looking to the stars. “She gave me four sons… Three sons who grew to be much like their father…” he paused, looking down to the sand and tightly scooping a pile of it into a massive hand. “And then there was the one...”

Spike waited for him to continue, nodding silently to let the man know he was listening.

“My oldest was always headstrong… always adamant about what he believed in and was willing to go to any length to bring his goals to life.” He paused then snapped forward, throwing his handful of sand into the fire, where it spat and flickered for a moment in protest, the shadows that wildly danced across the man’s face doing nothing but highlighting his grim expression. “We both knew that he didn’t always see eye to eye with the king, or ourselves for that matter, but we never in our darkest days thought he would do something so unthinkable.”

“What did he do?” Spike questioned.

“He joined a group of terrorists nearly thirty years ago,” Al’Kair answered, “a lot like the men you ran into earlier this evening.”

He asked the obvious question: “Why?”

“You should already know why,” Al’Kair replied, “if you believe in something strongly enough, you will do whatever you can to ensure that it comes to pass.”

Spike sighed, but nodded with understanding at his words.

“He disappeared into the desert outside of Hoofof with the radicals all those years ago, at first we thought that they would just be a nuisance for the patrols outside the city… I was in my new station in Rideah when we finally realized that we were disastrously wrong.” Al’Kair paused again, biting one of his gauntleted fingers. “They’d attacked Hoofof, it took us four days to ride there back then… I don’t recall sleeping at all during the entire journey.”

“I can’t imagine you’d be able to,” Spike agreed.

“The moment we finally arrived, Hoofof was in flames,” he continued, “my thoughts were with my family, but we needed to secure the city first.” He paused to rub the grey stubble on his jawline, “nearly two days of fighting later my home was finally behind our lines.”

“Were there a lot of casualties?”

“Yes…” Al’Kair replied lowering his head, “over eighty percent of them civilians.”

“Gods,” Spike said quietly. “That’s…”

“That’s what happens when evil men gain power. The innocent die.” He paused, his eyes becoming misty. He dismissed them with a wipe of his eye. “That includes the family of soldiers. Especially their commander.”

“You mean they…”

“Slaughtered them, skinned them and hung them above my home.” Al’Kair finished for him, “they wanted to get my attention… it worked.”

“I’m sorry,” he answered, knowing it didn’t help, but saying it regardless. “Did you ever find out who did it?”

“I did…” Al’Kair nodded, “when we made it to Amira’s section of the palace.”

“Amira?” It dawned on Spike what Al’Kair might be saying. “Her parents?”

“Yes,” Al’Kair said softly, “the man who killed my family also took Amira’s parents from her.”

“Who was it?”

Al’Kair took a long pause, looking to the moon and then the fire. “My own son…” he said simply.

“But, how could he do that to his family? There’s no…” He sighed again, looking into the fire. “What did you do when you found out?”

“What any father would do I suppose,” he shrugged, “I didn’t want to believe it, I couldn’t believe it, until he showed me the gem you currently wear around your neck.”

“Oh,” Spike said quietly. After a long pause, he asked, “did he ever say why?”

“Do you really need a reason for such madness?” Al’Kair asked, looking to the stars once more, “back then… I thought nothing would truly break me, but when he threw his mother’s rose at my feet…” There was a long pause, the man was fighting back tears that should have fallen decades ago. “That was when I knew I truly had nothing left to lose.”

“Which is why we won’t lose her tomorrow,” Spike reassured. “I promise.”

Al’Kair looked to Spike. Finally, he weakly smiled. “You’re so much like I once was,” he confessed, patting the boy on the back before returning his gaze back to the fire, “I am now left to wonder if there is any of that man left in me… after all these years, I don’t know anymore.”

“I think there is,” Spike reassured. “Otherwise I would of been a dead man earlier.”

“Perhaps.”

“Speaking of which…” He held out the man’s sword to him, resting one hand on the handle, the other at the flat of the blade. “I’m sure you’ll need this tomorrow.”

Al’Kair looked to the blade and then to Spike, a few moments of dead silence fell between the two, not even the cackling of the fire could be heard. Finally he rose his hand, placing it firmly over Spike’s and gently pushed the weapon back towards Spike.

“Al’Kair?”

“Look at that sword Spike,” he said, pointing to embroidery on handguard in the sharp, angular design of the Saddle Arabian’s writings. “That sword belongs to whoever defends Amira’s house.” He paused, looking Spike square in the eyes. “That is no longer my duty, Amira has chosen someone else for that role… someone far better than me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Spike admitted, looking first at the weapon, then returning his gaze to Al’Kair. “Other than I swear I won’t let her be hurt.”

“I will hold you to that promise.” Al’Kair rose to his feet and removed his scabbard. “The moon continues to rise,” he commented, letting the scabbard fall at Spike’s feet, “we will need as much rest as we can afford, for tomorrow…” he paused, looking due north, “we ride.”