Spike hurt. An aching, thundering thing that pounded at his collarbone like the ocean pounds against a rocky cliffside, crashing against it, trying to reshape the rocks with its blows. The dragon-blood groaned, or, if Spike was honest, whimpered at the pain, trying to push back from it and retreat into the inky blackness. But it was to no avail. Each throb brought Spike closer and closer to the surface of consciousness, until he finally shifted wrong on the blood-stained carpet and the bullet wound bit hard against a bone. Yelping, Spike clutched at the still-bleeding injury, noting with indifference that he was once again he. Right now, though? He didn’t care.

He had to get to Amira. Had to. He was gonna save her. Looking around the hallway, the dragon-blood realized they weren’t around. Spike swore, standing. The strength in his legs gave out and he crashed hard once more into the carpet. Whimpering, he clutched once more at his wound and summoned his courage, rising once more. The boy tore off a bit of the skirt he wore, the golden band that substituted as a belt digging into his stomach. He paid it no mind, though, instead using some of the skirt’s cloth as a makeshift bandage, hoping it’d stop most of the bleeding.

As he reached to his side to tear off another strip, his hands brushed against something digging into his thigh, and he gripped the chain with a fervor, unlatching it from the back and letting it hit the ground with a small thunk. He picked up the Desert Rose and cradled it in a palm, frowning when he noticed he got blood on it. Regardless, he wrapped it around his neck all the same, and said a silent prayer of relief when the scimitar he held in his hands earlier still lay on the ground.

He set it in its sheath and looked around the hallway, unsure where Amira went. Deciding the best course of action would be finding Luna again, he retraced his steps, coming to the body of Al’Kair.

Unsure what to say, he squatted down and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice raspy and low.

Suddenly the giant’s arm shot upward, scaring Spike nearly out of his wits, the only thing that prevented him from falling back was the hand that now cling tightly to his arm.

“T-throne… room…” he stuttered, blood pouring through his words.

“Al’Kair?! You’re alive?!” Spike asked, astonished. After a moment of bewilderment, Spike wiped at his brow. “We got to stop the bleeding, you—”

“No,” Al’Kair interrupted, pulling him closer, “Y-you need to save her,” he panted out.

“But… Al’Kair, if we don’t help you right now…”

“There’s no saving me. I’m…” he coughed, blood sputtering out of his mouth. “Lungshot. Besides, I’ve lived long enough. It is time to see my sons… my Cala… once more.”

Spike hesitated, but after a long moment, he put his hand to Al’Kair’s shoulder. “The Throne Room. I’ll go there right away and come back for you after I’m done.”

A weak, ghostly whisper of a laugh came from Al’Kair’s throat before he rested his hand on Spike’s. “There’ll be nothing to come back to,” he managed to say, “my purpose has been served. It lies on you to save my Amira.”

It was hard for him to do, but Spike squeezed the man’s hand in return and rose, heading out the hallway without looking back.

“Spike..” Al’Kair weakly called out, freezing the boy in place. The boy turned to look at him.

“T-take care of them…” he said, his hands limply falling to the ground and his labored breathing finally ending.

“I-I will,” Spike muttered out to himself, willing away the tears that stung at his eyes. “I will, Al’Kair.”

With that he turned, heading toward the throne room.

Spike found himself in front of a large elaborate doorway about ten minutes later. He had considered getting Luna to assist him, but knew she’d need to recover her strength in case their way out wasn’t easy. She wasn’t the type to show weakness, so her nearly collapsing was sign enough to him that she’d be worthless in anything strenuous for a good, long while.

It was up to him now. That was all there was to it. Gripping the sword once more by the handle, he unsheathed it for what he hoped would be the last time today, and gently turned the doorknob, hoping to sneak in on the two. Once he opened the doorway just enough to slip in, he did so, shutting it quietly behind him.

“Come to die alone I see,” a voice said from behind him, making him jump slightly, “it also seems that I missed my mark.”

Spike slowly turned around, expecting a bullet in the back at any second, but when no shots came he found himself staring up at Hakem, finally getting a good, long look at the traitor.

His body resembled his father’s in appearance, from the obvious lean muscle under his skin to his impressive height, topped off by a head of thick black hair. If he weren’t the most vile man Spike had ever come to know, he may have actually envied him.

Hakem took another step towards Spike, tightening the belt around his waist. The sword at his side drew Spike’s eye without any effort. The handle was worn towards the handguard, as if it had been used regularly, rather than being just for show.

“You were a fool for coming here, whoever you are.” Grabbing onto the hilt of his blade, Hakem pulled it free of its sheath and he held it casually, as if Spike had no chance of injuring him, “and now you will die as the swine do, stuck—”

“Where’s Amira?” Spike interrupted, bringing his scimitar up, “If you so much as touched her…”

At first Hakem took great insult to the interruption; A scowl and a flash of hatred in his eyes sparked to life, but soon a wicked smile came to his face and he began to laugh. “You must be the one she never silences her mouth for,” Hakem chuckled, looking Spike up and down, “I knew that she was compassionate, but I never thought she would take so much pity on such a lowly creature like yourself.”

“Where is she?” Spike growled, clenching his hands tighter around the hilt of his blade, “tell me!”

Hakem barely paid attention to Spike’s orders, but he did casually point one of the room’s corners, one where a bed sat, filled with pillows adorned with golden tassels and a figure, hidden behind a set of veils that stretched up to a set of high banisters.

“The bitch put up a fight again.” Hakem looked to Spike. “I had to silence her so I could have a better chance of bearing an heir.”

Spike could feel his blood beginning to boil as Hakem’s smile seemed to grow unnaturally large.

The dragon-blood took a step slowly to Hakem’s side, never letting his icy gaze break from the larger man. “You won’t have a heir. You’d have better luck getting water from a stone. Your balls are as impotent as you are as a man.”

Spike narrowed his brow. “You’re a pig, wallowing in shit, Hakem. No matter how much you try to disguise it under perfumes and grand expressions. Pig,” Spike punctuated the word with a clench of his fist. “I’m going to stick you and make you squeal. For Equestria. For the people, from king to harem girl, living under your thumb. For Al’Kair. For Amira,” he shouted, his eyes seeming to grow more reptilian than they were a moment ago. He clenched his scimitar so tightly he heard his knuckles popping.

“Such showmanship!” Hakem cheered, finally moving his sword to a ready stance, aiming it towards the boy. “Now lets see if your ability with a sword can match your mouth.”

“We’ll see how you fight someone actually fighting back.” He gave a small flourish with the sword, growing comfortable with it once more.

With that, Spike dashed forward, instantly stopping mere inches from the range of Hakem’s blade, trying to bait out a strike.

Hakem didn’t so much as bat an eye at Spike’s attempt, he didn’t even bother to pull his free hand from behind his back. Instead he stepped to Spike’s exposed side, landing a solid kick square into Spike’s ribs. The boy reeled from the attack, nearly falling over at the sudden loss of air in his lungs as Hakem began to laugh.

“Is that truly the best you have to offer?” he asked, looking to the downed young man. “Perhaps you would stand a better chance if a woman took your place.”

Spike thought briefly back to the first plan of killing Hakem by him sneaking in as a woman and plunging a blade into his heart and, in a sense, agreed with him, though he offered no remark to the man’s jeers, instead returning to position, taking in a focused breath. He bolted in again, this time closing the distance low to the ground and swinging his sword towards Hakem’s legs.

A laugh came from Hakem’s mouth as his foot slammed down onto the flat side of the strike, effectively pinning Spike and his sword down to the ground. Another swift kick from Hakem to Spike’s face not only sent him flying but also disarmed him. Jumping to his feet as quickly as he could Spike wiped at the blood pouring out of his nose, the look of rage remaining fixed to his face.

“You truly are a sad creature,” Hakem remarked, sliding Spike’s scimitar back to him, “if only Al’Kair were still alive, he would have at least offered some challenge.”

“I’m gonna break your fucking face,” Spike growled out in warning, taking the sword once more into his hands. Once again he charged, mentally repeating the mantra Al’Kair told him about the weapon. Small slashes. Never thrust. Parry with the back of the blade or side.

He gave a quick snap of the weapon, aiming it for Hakem’s arm as Spike stared at Hakem’s chest, trying to give the illusion that’s where he was planning a strike.

“For once a show of competence!” Hakem mocked, blocking Spike’s strike easily and pushing him away. “A strike like that would have fooled a boy on the streets.”

Spike stumbled briefly, but was instantly to Hakem again, bringing the sword from the side and bringing a knee upwards, aiming for the man’s unprotected groin.

Just as Spike was about to strike Hakem’s free hand finally came from behind his back, just missing Spike’s temple. Once again the boy fell, his eyes hazy from the sudden attack and unable to stand.

“That was a filthy maneuver,” Hakem said in a prudish tone, rubbing his fist. “I expected at least some chivelly in all this.”

“Says the man who used a gun on Al’Kair’s back,” Spike snarled, struggling up. It took him only a moment before he found his feet, wiping hard again at his nose. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Hakem laughed, walking away from Spike, not even acknowledging him as a threat. “Tell me boy,” he began, not bothering to look at the boy, “are you the dragon turned lapdog that the whore of the sun raised before dumping you off on her student? The one with untold magical prowess?”

“Don’t call Celestia that,” Spike warned, catching his breath.

“Oh forgive my manners. The way you speak about her almost seems as if she’s laid with you.” Hakem mocked, finally turning around, “not that I would be surprised, given how close she is to that dyke of a sister she has, but my question still stands… are you?”

“I am,” he tersely answered, taking the brief moment to catch his breath.

“Oh, such a shame.” Hakem sighed. “Your kind have been fabled for their strength and ability in combat. To see one reduced to such a pathetic state, broken by Equestrians… women at that.” He paused, almost looking sad for Spike as their eyes met. “It breaks my heart.”

“Your heart is ice. And the fact I haven’t made you a screaming bloodstain right now is because I learned to hold back. Thank those women,” Spike answered, clutching his sword once more. “Because if he gets out of control, it’s the last thing you’ll see.”

“I doubt that, dragonkin,” Hakem smiled, pointing his sword at Spike once more, “but first, I must ask another question, what powers does your current bitch possess? It may be good to know what to expect once I breed her.”

He felt a faint, feral tug at that. Spike grit his teeth, trying to stop his hands from shaking, from the unnaturally hot breaths coming out of his nose. “She’d kill you before you could even say a word.”

“A destructive arcane ability?” Hakem asked, nodding in approval. “That will be most useful for my future campaigns, almost as much of use as control over the night and day. Are there any others with abilities that I may find useful in Equestria? I could always use a fine tailor.”

Spike took a breath, willing himself calm, pleading with himself to fight back. If he lost control…

Despite this, he could still feel a small change in him, He grit his suddenly sharp teeth, and launched himself forward once more, this time with a speed beyond what he held at first. He swung down, feinted, then cut upwards, fury nearly blinding him.

“This is what I expect from a dragonkin!” Hakem shouted, just barely keeping up with Spike’s attacks, “such rage, such power! You have done nothing but fight your true self and pretended to be human until now.”

“I’m more human than you’ll ever be!” Spike roared, his voice a low, threatening baritone. “I know what I have to hold back.”

“If you refuse to use all of your power then you are weak!” Hakem roared back, slicing into Spike’s strong arm.

Spike howled in pain, watching blood spurt out from the wound. The boy shot his other hand forward, its size and weight seeming to grow as he launched it, aiming for Hakem’s throat.

Hakem was unable to react fast enough to Spike’s attack as Spike’s enlarging hand wrapped around his throat, the newfound claws digging deeper and deeper into Hakem’s skin. He began to struggle in Spike’s grasp, letting out a weak gag that made the dragonkin smile in dark satisfaction as Hakem squirmed underneath his iron grip.

The satisfaction did not last long; as soon as he thought Hakem was about to black out the man pulled a dagger from behind his back, sinking it into Spike’s forearm and embedding it almost to the hilt.

Spike let out a primal roar of pain as his hand released Hakem; his foe fell to the floor and Spike reached for the dagger, gritting his ever enlarging fangs as he pulled the blade free from his forearm.

Hakem was on him in a heartbeat, slamming both his fist into Spike’s stomach, forcing the boy to hunch over. Taking the opportunity he grabbed the boy by the hair and snapped his knee up, slamming it again and again into Spike’s jaw. The dragon-blood heard a pop grace his ears as his jaw dislocated from the blows.

The false king threw him to the ground once more, rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the discomfort.

“To see such power wasted,” Hakem spat out, grabbing his sword once more, “it truly is shameful.”

Spike groaned, his body aching from the blows and the abuse it had suffered, alongside the physical changes it was undergoing. Even now, he felt his body seeming to fill out, becoming denser, more packed with muscles and lengthening, pulling his limbs and torso out like he was so much clay. He stared towards the man, his vision seeming to dim. Well, perhaps not dim, rather, it was seeming to alter. The vibrant colors of the throne room dimmed, and Hakem himself seemed to take on a sort of glow. Without thinking, Spike reached to his mouth and reset his jaw without even a slight tremor of pain and flicked out his lengthening tongue, tasting the man’s scent, tasting his own, tasting Amira’s, and hundreds of others just on the back of his mind.

Looking down in alarm, he noticed his claws had lengthened, widening to almost daggers on each of his fat fingers. There came a sort of reassuring dullness to his thoughts, as if Twilight or another one of his mentors were soothing him quiet when he was a babe. Despite this, he fought against it, desperately clinging to the resisting side of his mind. He rose to a half-hunch, nearly as tall as Amira now, and his skin housing a sickly off-grey color. Picking up the scimitar at his side, its handle far more fit for his side now, he charged in an almost half-gallop towards Hakem, snapping the sword like quicksilver for the man’s arm.

Reacting quickly Hakem stepped to the side, avoiding Spike’s attack and sending the pommel of his blade into Spike’s back, sending the boy to the floor once more.

“You never seem to give up,” he said, walking towards his downed opponent. “I was expecting you to curl into a ball and wait for me to kill you by now, but it seems I was wrong.” Hakem paused, a thought coming to his head as he slammed his heel into Spike’s back, causing the boy to hold back a cry of pain through his teeth. “Perhaps I was wrong about another thing,” he began, leaning towards Spike, “Luna probably isn’t a dyke, given the fact that she’s allowed her rotten cunt to house the cock of not only a common soldier, but a cripple no less… I suppose that means she or her sister wouldn’t mind mine inside them as well. Maybe I will even have the young Twilight screaming my name in-”

Spike snapped up his head, rolling the man’s foot off of him. He turned over onto his back and with a howl of fury, snapped his hand up, reaching up to Hakem’s testicles, which he promptly took a hold of and squeezed until a vein in his arm threatened to rupture.

He said nothing as he performed the action. In the faint vanishing corners of his rapidly changing mind, in a small part still desperately clinging to what scraps of his humanity he still held, Spike wondered if he could even really speak more than a growl right now. With that in mind, he easily hoisted the man up by the genitals and with one snap of his brick-like arm threw him to the ground.

Spike took the moment to rise, noting with fading interest that he was on equal size with Hakem now. His arms hung to the side, and his hands, if you could even call them that, were rapidly becoming nothing more than clawed paws. He heard a sharp cracking at his skin, and accepted his normally soft body becoming scaled, a thing no arrow or blade could hope to pierce without the hands of an expert swordsman.

“B-Bastard!” Hakem snarled, holding his groin as he slowly rose to his feet, “I’ll have your head mounted on my wall for this!”

“No heir now,” Spike slowly called out mockingly, his voice deep and gravelly, a tone belonging to ancient things beyond mortal thoughts. and threatening as an approaching storm.

He leaned forward, losing the balance on his two back legs, and felt the start of a long tail start its growth behind him. His face elongated; his nose and mouth started to lengthen and meld together, forming a snout. At his neck, he heard a pop, and saw the necklace he wore fly off and clatter to the ground. He felt like he should panic at losing it, but wondered why he thought like he did. Gems were food for when meat was scarce.

And right now, there was no scarcity. He continued to stare at Hakem, running a barbed tongue over his toughened lips. Spike took a step forward on his leg and hand, shaking the room from his weight and rapidly growing size, already a head taller than Hakem if he rose to his two back feet.

Hakem quickly backed away, aiming his sword to the dragon’s heart as Spike continued to approach. “Come closer beast!” he yelled with a smile as sweat started to pour from his brow, “your fate will be no different as it would’ve been when you hid behind the guise of a human!”

“Scare-musk from you,” Spike growled out. “You scared,” he said, dumbly pleased with the thought. He took a slap of the back of his hand towards Hakem, playing with him.

“S-scared?!” Hakem roared, stumbling back away from the blow. “I am the true king! There is no fear in my heart for you!”

“You scared!” Spike roared with a deafening bellow, rising on his two feet briefly to showcase his full height, before slamming down his front legs next to Hakem.

Hakem almost lost his balance in the tremor, but as soon as the ground stopped shaking he steadied his sword, clinching its handle tightly with both hands. “I will show you scared!” He roared, charging towards Spike, “I will see the fear in your eyes as I rip your heart from your chest!”

The man ran in, ducking under a swipe from Spike’s blade-like claws and ramming his blade into Spike’s stomach. The dragon hissed in pain at the wound that should have killed him, but in this new body it only managed to piss him off. Hakem didn’t stop there, avoiding a tail swipe he flanked the dragon and sent his sword into Spike’s back.

Clenching his muscles Spike managed to fight past the pain and lock the sword in place at his back, Hakem pulled, tugged at it, but it was like the sword was set in stone. Taking the opportunity he’d given himself, Spike reached behind him to grab Hakem by the shoulder and snapped his weight forward, launching the man over his body and slamming Hakem into the ground. Then for good measure, he picked him back up again and slammed him down once more onto the stone floor, breaking rock with Hakem’s body and sending tremors across the room, knocking off pictures from the walls. Through with the plaything, Spike threw him into the wall,

Hakem twitched in place, unable to rise, let alone move his broken and shattered body as Spike waddled casually towards him, an oppressive wall of scale that easily pulled the scimitar out of his back,dropping it and letting it clatter to the floor.

Spike stared down at Hakem, his size still increasing. Soon he stood taller than any man Hakem had ever seen, closer to an elephant in height and width and with a furious roar, the dragon leapt towards Hakem, slicing a claw at the man’s arm. Hakem let out a high-pitched, frantic scream as flesh and skin was rend from from bone and his arm dropped to the ground, its nerves still jerking it violently amid a pool of crimson surrounding it.

“Cripple. Broke toy,” Spike stupidly said, giving a slapping prod to the man’s open wound. “No fun.”

Hakem jerked and screamed incoherently before shock began to set in. He looked to Spike, a dumb smile on his face and he began to laugh. “All this for a whore. Just remember one thing… who was in her first.”

Spike would of screamed obscenities until his throat was raw, but the beastial part of him was far beyond the man’s words, their context nonsensical to him. So instead, he bellowed once more and grabbed the laughing man by the ankle, his claws easily wrapping around the appendage, and slammed him into the ground, silencing him, then into the walls. Spike smashed Hakem’s head into the ceiling, making the king’s neck buckle and nearly snap like a piece of bent rope, then finally slammed him into the ground, where Spike stepped hard on his lifeless chest. He let out a primal bellow, beating his chest wildly before erupting a pillar of fire from his mouth, igniting the banners decorating the walls and ceiling.

His bloodlust sated, Spike bent down, once more licking his chops as he stared down at the man’s corpse. A scent caught his nostrils right before his first bite and he snapped his head towards it. It came from Hakem’s bed, and the dragon marched on all fours towards it.

There he saw a being lying on the bed, limp and barely breathing. A small part of him felt agony at the sight, but he wasn’t sure why. Raising his pseudo-claw he nudged at the being, who simply rolled over to reveal its face. A woman of the kind he had slain. The dragon stepped back at the revelation, but he was soon brought back to her side, seemingly entranced by her beauty. The second shock to the beast came to him when the woman’s eyes opened up, locking with his. For a moment, she was confused, but then she snapped awake as if by an electric shock.

“S-Spike?!” Amira shouted pressing herself against the headset of the bed, “Spike is that…?”

He stared at her silently, looking at her with a cold, calculated gaze. He breathed in her scent, noted her full breasts and wide hips, already more than suitable for laying eggs. If she lived through the mating, she would be a good choice to carry his brood. Feeling a burn between his legs, Spike’s shaft began a slow crawl out of its sheath , expanding until it was well over a foot and a half in length, already leaking precum from the head.

“Have you,” he growled out, his menacing, lustful voice holding no trace of the sweet boy from before. Swallowing back saliva, he placed his forelegs on the bed, his excitement making him almost hyperventilate. He stuck out his tongue, giving her a lick from Amira’s ankle, all the way to the side of her hip. On her scent was the man he slaughtered. Was she his?

No more. Man was dead.

Woman was his now.

Amira’s eyes shrank into small dots; she quickly brought her legs closer to her body, desperately trying to keep some precious distance between herself and the creature that Spike had become. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest as sweat and panic began to set in.

“S-Spike,” she said softly, the fear in her voice evident as she rose her hand defensively towards him. “Spike, please this—this isn’t you, d-don’t be what you are supposed to be, be what you’ve chosen to be…” A tear trailed down her face as she hesitantly reached forward, tentatively touching the dragon’s snout. “Please.”

His tongue lobbed out, wrapping her forearm in its wet embrace. He trailed it across her body, over the silk covering her breasts, then cradled her chin with the appendage, before looking down at her.

“Breed you,” he dumbly panted out again, looking at her like she was nothing more than a delicious piece of meat. “Big breasts, big milk for eggs when hatch.”

Amira’s breathing quickened as Spike’s tongue flicked her chin and slid back into his mouth. Clenching the bedsheets, she desperately tried to sink into the wall behind her. Her eyes shifted from side to side as she searched for an option, any way to escape, but as Spike edged towards her, finally close to straddling her, she saw only one option..

“Forgive me Spike…” she whispered, snapping her leg forward and crushing his penis with a kick that’d make a mule’s seem delicate.

The instant her foot contacted with one the few sensitive spots left on his hard hide, Spike howled in agony, the veined pink flesh retreating back towards its protective sheath as he rolled to the side clutching it, giving Amira a moment to rise off the bed. Coming to quickly, Spike bellowed, lunging towards her. Amira barely dodged Spike’s claws, almost tripping over herself as she did so. She didn’t look back, keeping her eyes on the door.

She frantically opened it then slammed it shut behind her. The dragon paid it no mind, he simply lowered his head and blew through it, showering the floor with splinters and stone.

“Breed you!” he bellowed again through the rising dust of the ruined wall, pausing for only a moment before running after her on all fours, his member bouncing along with every gallop across the carpeted floor.

Amira continued to run, knowing full well what would happen if she slowed down. The sound of claws digging into the stone beneath the carpet drew closer and closer. She rounded the corner of the hallway, straight into an arm shooting out from a tight hallway and pulling her into its shadows.

A hand covered her mouth before she could say anything. A rough looking man in Equestrian armor looked to her, using his free hand to push a finger to his lips as the sound of stomping came closer to them.

It blew right past them, rounding the corner and vanishing, at least for the moment, to the distance.

“We must move quickly,” a regal woman’s voice spoke up from behind the man. “He’ll find her quick enough from her scent. Dragons hold a keen nostril.”

“I’m just as concerned for you,” the turned to pick her up from where she leaned against the wall. “you can’t even stand alone yet.”

“Urgency is the best antidote for weakness,” she answered. “Thou know we have to stop his rampage, ‘lest he takes it to the city proper.”

“P-Princess Luna?” Amira questioned, looking to the woman cradled in the large man’s arm, “and…?”

“Aedan, but formalities later, lady,” Aedan said, quickly grabbing her arm with his free hand, “now we’ve gotta move.”

Amira nodded and quickly complied with Aedan’s pulling, taking them to the direction that Amira had previously come from. The three ran as fast as they could, slowed by Luna’s exhaustion.

“He’s going to find us faster than I thought.” Aedan said bringing his head forward once more, “I hope you’ve got something truly brilliant in that head of hair of yours.”

“If it were simply a creature to slay, I know six moderately easy approaches to felling a dragon. However, trapped within his breast is one of our own.” Luna looked to the two. “I hath experienced something akin to that myself, years prior.”

“There has to be a way to bring him back,” Amira said, looking to Luna with desperate eyes. “Perhaps a spell or something of that nature?”

“Luna’s not going to be casting anytime soon,” Aedan answered for her, “she’s given one hundred fifty percent of herself and if she tried something that big right now, I might…” he paused. “We might lose her.”

“And what other recourse do we have, child?” Luna rebuked. “A spell could be our only hope of stopping him without slaying Spike. I am more than a porcelain doll, Aedan. I still have some prowess within me.”

“Don’t call me a child,” Aedan snapped at Luna, his eyes burning with an intensity rarely seen, even by Luna. “I know you’re willing, you’re always willing, but you know damn well that you’re not able. So don’t try to tell me otherwise, I’m not having you’re blood on my hands.”

“I call thee as I see thee at the moment, child,” Luna hotly countered, glaring at the man. “I have enough within me for one more spell. But I will require both of ye to protect me whilst I channel the necessary reserves within.”

“And what? Die right after you cast it?” Aedan retorted, air blowing out of his nostrils, “I might not be as smart as you, or as old, but at least I know when to not let my fucking pride get the better of me. If you do this you know you won’t live to see the sunset, and what then? Will Celestia have to take your place again? Only with a little more permanence this time?”

“Then, pray tell, let us hear thine plan,” she said, her tone dangerously cold. “For as I see it, it won’t be long until he finds his way either once more to this woman, or perhaps the harem.” The princess crossed her arms. “Or will thou stay thine hand til he makes it out to the city proper too? Mayhapes after he rapes an orphanage, destroys a church, or some other travesty, thou may—”

“Please, the both of you, STOP!” Amira shouted ripping her arm away from Aedan, “you're arguing is getting us nowhere!” The two stopped glaring at one another for a moment to look to Amira, her eyes full of painful tears as she stood there. “I want to save him just as much, if not more, but if it would mean the inevitable loss of a life I would be unable to continue with my own.” She looked up to them, her eyes pleading. “Please, there has to be another way.”

Aedan and Luna looked to one another. Several seconds of silence passed before Aedan took a heavy breath and turned his attention toward the hallway, his eyes already explaining to Luna his intent.

“Don’t,” Luna said quietly.

“I’ve got a better chance than you do as it is,” he simply replied, matching her soft tone and pulling her head close to his, “it’s the only way any of us can expect to get out of here alive.”

She shook her head. “You’ll only stall him at best. Aedan. Let me…”

“Luna, have you even considered what would happen if you died here?” Aedan asked, slowly walking her over to a corner, “Your sister, the nation…” He paused, setting her down in between a set of pillars. “Me… You’ve said it yourself, I’m a soldier. I’m here to take risks so other people don’t have to.” Taking a deep breath he wiped a few stray hairs from her eyes. “As for what I can do, me stalling him would give you and Amira plenty of time to think of a way that doesn’t cost your life.”

“I won’t let thee draw your last breath here. Thou will do well to remember that,” Luna answered. “Stall, if thou must. But if I see thou are to break…”

“Have a little faith in me, alright.” Aedan smirked. “Who’s afraid of an overgrown lizard anyway?”

“Strike then, whilst the iron is hot.”

“It’s molten,” Aedan replied, looking her in the eyes, “and in the event that this doesn’t work, I don’t want your last memory of me to be our little argument. I’m not really good with words, so…” He leaned into Luna, not even giving her a chance to mirror his action before pressing his lips to hers. Luna weakly tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but the best she could do was rest them on his jawline. The two seemed frozen in time until finally Aedan reluctantly pulled away, Luna’s arms following him until she could no longer support them.

“I guess that’ll have to do.” he said rising to his feet. “I love you.”

“As I do thee,” Luna replied. “Let us not fear the ‘morrow.”

“Never.”

He crisply snapped around and took to walking, determined to see his plan through. Amira came to his side, trying her best to keep in step with him as he marched.

“What are you planning to do?” she asked, placing her hand on his bicep.

“Like I said, I’m going to stall him.” Aedan replied, not bothering to look at her, “it’s up to you and Luna to think of a way to bring him back to the munchkin he used to be.”

“How are we—”

“Magic isn’t the only thing that can bring him around,” Aedan interrupted, cracking his knuckles in preparation. “I’ve seen something like this happen before. If he sees something that he held dear when he was still like us, there’s a chance it’ll snap him back.”

“The Rose,” Amira said nearly jerking at the flash of inspiration. “We can show him The Desert Rose.”

“Good, now do you have it?”

Amira froze in her tracks, prompting Aedan to halt as well.

“I’ll take that as a no…”

“I know where it is, though.” Amira replied, “I saw it in the throne room as I escaped.”

“Well that’s just—”

A loud bellow rattled the hallway they stood in, eached looked to the other in borderline panic as heavy footfalls echoed across the area.

“You’d better go find whatever the hell you were talking about.” Aedan reached behind his back for his hammer. He looked to her, an ominous glint in his eye. “Things are about to get interesting.”

Amira nodded and ran, leaving Aedan to stand alone as echos reverberated the hallway, growing louder and louder. Pulling his hammer to stance he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself. He felt a presence nearby and opened his eyes. There stood the dragon, rigid, full of muscle and primal instincts.

“Hey reptard!” Aedan roared out, throwing his hands in the air, “I’m the alpha here! You want my girls? Come and take them from me!”

The beast froze at the man’s announcement and glared harshly at him, breathing heavily through his nostrils. Wasting no time, he took a breath in and launched a wide pillar of flame Aedan’s way.

“Oh shit, he’s gone full dragon…” Reacting quickly, he dove into a nearby hallway, trying to shield himself from the scorching flame. “I hope she finds that damn thing soon.”

Meanwhile, Amira was running as fast as her exhausted legs could carry her, desperately trying to get to the throne room before it was too late. The sounds of metal clashing with scale and bone echoed behind her, telling her that Aedan had taken to defending himself from the boy.

It all rested on her now and she wasn’t about to let Spike down.

She finally found herself in front of the wreckage of wood and stone that was once the throne room doors. She stepped inside, where she finally saw the mangled and torn body of Hakem. Her hands found her mouth just as her meager breakfast threatened to see the light of day, it was true that after all the things he’d done to her, she to see him pay, but in such a horrific way...

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she reassured herself placing a hand on her chest, “I must find the necklace, before any more blood can be spilled.”

“T-that… that the best you got?!” Aedan shouted, using his weapon as a crutch to stand himself back up, “come on! Show me a real fight!”

“Break you…” Spike said, stepping towards Aedan. “Break you and take women.” He swiped at the man, less with an intent to kill, and more a cat playing with a mouse.

Aedan went limp with the strike, taking ahold of the arm and limply letting it swat him. The dragon looked down and saw the man still latched onto his arm. With a yell, Aedan reared back and slammed the dragon’s joint with a one-handed blow of his hammer

The pain caught the beast off guard. He threw Aedan back and clutched at his aching arm.

Aedan landed, skidding to a stop on the carpet. He rose, empowered by his successful blow. “How’s that?! I can play rough too!”

Spike growled, the blow numbing his arm, but causing no lasting damage. He stepped forward and swiped at Aedan with his good claw, this time less a cat playing a mouse, and more a predator pursuing an elusive prey.

“Take them. Have them. Will have them!” he bellowed, stomping his back feet into the ground.

“Not while I’m breathing…” Aedan growled back, shaking his head to clear his head and clenching his hammer tightly. He hopped back, just in time to avoid a claw from Spike. “Not while I’m still standing!”

Back in the throne room, Amira desperately dug through the rubble that littered the area, praying that with each rock turned her amulet, the only hope that Aedan, Luna and herself still had, would be under it, but she had no such success. Panic began to set in as the sounds of the conflict reached her, the advantage seeming to favor the best, but she pressed on, not willing to give up, not until—

“Spike?” a voice faintly called out, making the room seem silent. “Spike?!”

Amira rushed to the sound and dug with both hands, not mindful of the cuts the sharp rocks gave her palms, only praying she hadn’t gone mad. Finally, a hint of blue graced her vision and she pulled it free from the debris.

“Spike?!” Twilight yelled, the worry in her voice evident, “Spike answer me! Where are—”

“Spike isn’t here,” Amira interrupted, “something horrible has happened.”

“Is Spike alright?” Twilight asked, not even bothering to question who it was she was talking to, “he isn’t…”

“He’s not,” Amira assured, hearing a deep sigh of relief after she’d said those words, “but he isn’t the one you once knew, something… something changed.”

There was a brief pause at the other end of the line before another woman came into the conversation. “Take us to him, now.”

Amira didn’t have to reply, rising to her feet she ran back towards the sounds of chaos.

Aedan landed flat on his back, the impact alone knocking the wind out of him, but then a claw came down onto his chest, pinning him and making him gasp out in pain from the impact.

“I… I’ve had women slap me harder than that…” Aedan struggled to say. He managed to get his hands under the claw, but was only able to lift the claw enough to not be crushed underfoot.

“C-come on you oversized lizard… impress me,” he wheezed out.

Spike growled once more and brought his head forward, intending to bite the man while he was pinned.

An ethereal chain appearing around his neck stopped him dead in his tracks. Spike let out a choked gasp and his tongue briefly lobbed out from the force of it pausing him. He stumbled back a few precious feet, giving Aedan a chance to struggle to a knee, then came a groan from the translucent, silvery-blue magic restraining the dragon and the spell promptly vanished. He put a paw up to his neck, rubbing it indignantly.

“Thou wish to breed with me?” Luna scoffed, sneering. “The Spike that resides within thine heart would say no such thing.” She loosely held out her sword, adopting a more dexterous one-handed pose. “Face me, unless thou never regrew thine man-parts after mine spell.”

“Luna NO!” Aedan yelled, reaching his hand out towards her, “I told you to—”

“Silence!” she bellowed in the tongue of the old-voice, the volume of the high-speech defending Aedan’s protest and even going so far to give the dragon pause. “Luna, daughter of Arthur, granddaughter of Uther, shall not bear witness to thine death quietly. Knightly blood flows within me; I am duty-bound to protect mine lover, and the innocents that would surely be slain if he is not stopped.” Her brow narrowed even harder, turning her face ugly and feral in its rage. “Beast that once was Spike, yield now, lest I show you the strength of the arm of Equestria. Return whence thou came, in darkness!” She stepped forward, gesturing with her free hand. An inky-black aura swam over her palm. Sweat formed at her brow and her legs shook with fatigue, but she grit through it and brought the magical aura toward her chest.

“Oh no…” Aedan whispered struggling to his feet, “no, no, no!” He reached for Luna once more and was nearly blown back by a shield of magic circling her as the aura came closer and closer to her chest. “Don’t do it! You can’t! Not again!”

“Aedan,” she struggled out, wearily looking towards him. “‘Tis fine. I can hold her back. The nightmare shan’t extinguish mine light.”

“You can barely fucking stand!” Aedan cried out, “what makes you think you can hold her off?!”

“I shall,” Luna snapped, her eyes flickering and briefly becoming cat-like. “‘Tis the only—our,” a voice said alongside Luna’s, its tone off-hinged, almost metallic. “Our only option,” it agreed with her.

Before she could fully press the spell into her breast, Spike finally snapped to action, his animal instincts at first making him wary of the magic being cast, but now, while she was distracted, it seemed like an opportune time. He lept toward her and with one powerful backhand, slapped her down to the ground. Luna, even in an average condition, could have easily evaded the strike, in her best condition, Spike would have been missing an arm. As weary and fatigued as she was now, though, she collapsed to the floor, the spell disarmed, much like her blade. She still attempted to rise; Spike casually strolled over to her and planted a leg onto her shoulder.

“Mine,” he purred out, gazing down at the woman.

Luna tried to fight back with her free hand, but Spike placed a second claw on her wrist. Licking his chops once more, he took a claw to the shirt she wore, splitting it easily down the center and exposing her taut stomach and revealing the sides of her tanned breasts. He parted the clothing, catching sight of a nipple and sniffed at it, seemingly enthralled.

The fire between his legs began to burn as his member unsheathed and hardened once more. Luna tried to look away, but the Dragon grabbed her head and forced her to look at his throbbing, now dripping cock. Luna shook free of the grasp and stared him in the eyes.

“Aedan. Don’t look,” she warned, her gaze up at the dragon defiant and challenging.

The dragon bared his teeth and lowered himself closer, when he was within inches of her he felt a massive pull on his tail. He looked back to see Aedan, his arms wrapped tightly around Spike’s tail and holding like there was no tomorrow. The blind fury in his eyes gave the dragon pause.

“Get off of her…” Aedan growled, spittle flying through his clenched teeth. “Get off her now!”

Aedan’s entire body twisted, his muscles flexing to life in his struggle. Through a strength beyond human endurance, fueled by anger and adrenaline, he actually jerked the beast back, stumbling the monster and making it cry out in pain as his tail felt ready to be ripped out of its socket. Thrashing his appendage free of the man’s grasp, Spike turned around, bellowing in rage, charging madly at the man. Aedan rose his hammer to his side, gambling on a strike.

Aedan was quick.

Spike was quicker.

As the dragon shot forward, he snapped a hand to Aedan, catching the weapon in his palm, where the other found a perch at the man’s gut, impaling a claw into Aedan’s stomach. Throwing him aside like a ragdoll, the dragon didn’t even bother noting where the man’s body landed, instead his focus was entirely on Luna’s nubile body as she struggled desperately to get to her feet. A blur of motion blocked his prize and Spike huffed out a hot breath, intending to kill anything that stood in his way.

“Spike!” Amira shouted at the top of her lungs refusing to move, blocking the dragon from meeting with the princess of the night. “Spike, stop!”

“‘Tis no use, Amira! Flee!” Luna ordered, “warn the townsfolk!”

“He has to stop,” Amira reassured, “because he would never forget this!”

Amira held up the amulet, stained with the blood of both friend and foe, it still shone its brilliance through the stains of battle on its stone.

The dragon paused, was ready to ignore her, but resisted, instead cocking his head to the side as he looked at the gem, then to her. The faintest spark came to him. Something long ago. When he was…

Younger? Smaller? The thought was strange. He was a dragon, alive for centuries. There’s no way she could have been around then. But she was. Wasn’t she? Wasn’t she… caught him when he was falling?

No. That was someone else, but… it was close. His thoughts. He let out an irritated, almost hostile snarl as his simple mind tried to grasp something more complex than it could handle. She caught him different than her. But…

It was an important catch. And the gem had something to do with it. Leaning into Amira, he gave a curious sniff of her, trying to recall her in a way far closer to his abilities allowed. There was a scent on her, beyond familiar, bordering on personal. The scent of a dragon. A young one, first taking his steps into the world. Was this woman his? But Spike wanted her.

You already have her, a calm voice told him, the unnatural thought making him physically recoil, flinching away from the woman and her strange gem. Just wake up.

He looked down at the ground, his expression pondering. He was awake. How could he wake up again?

This isn’t you. It never was.

That voice again. He recognized it. From somewhere. Somewhere close, yet far. Close-far. It belonged to…

Someone important. Someone very important. His…

It came to him so suddenly he almost bellowed in triumph.

His brood. His dragon sister, to be exact. The one that nursed him when their mother—his mother—he corrected himself. When she died.

But she was something else. Not a dragon. Right?

No, she was… like the woman before him. Amira.

Amira.

His eyes widened in recognition of the name and he tried to place why it meant so much to him, the answer on the tip of his tongue like a hard word.

“Ria,” he said slowly to her, his mouth was as foggy and confused as his mind was at the moment. He looked down at his claws, unsure, but briefly thinking they had lost a hair of their muscularity.

Spike paid it no mind, instead focusing on the woman before him, and the gem that kept calling his gaze towards it.

“A… m… ria,” he repeated.

He did know the woman. Somehow from before he was here. How did he get here, anyway? Where was his horde? His mothers, full of his soon to be born brood?

Why would you have those, Spike? his sister replied in his mind. You’re just fine without them.

“Spike…” Amira said softly, calling his attention once more, “come back, for all of us… for me.”

Come back? From where? He had been here all along.

Spike shifted, nearly stumbling when his tail was strangely angled, as if it had shrunk.

“Am… ria,” he once more said, scrunching his brow in thought

“Spike,” the voice inside his head said, now sounding as if it were outside, “this isn’t you, you know it, I know it…” It paused, the faintest sniffing sound coming from where ever the voice resided. “L-little, little dragonkin, fallen from the stars, rest now, sleep now, forget all your past scars…”

He froze. That was his sister, she was the one who sang. She was…

“T-Twi… Twilight,” he said, his voice holding at least a hair more confidence than before. “Twilight,” he repeated, more sure of himself. He paused, realizing that Amira was taller than him. To rectify this, he quickly stood on his two back legs, surprised at how natural the position felt right now as he looked down to her. “Amira,” he repeated yet again, looking at her, struggling to remember.

“Little, little dragonkin, now you must move on, rise now, be strong now and realize who you are…” Twilight’s song continued, the tears streaming down her face being imagined in full inside Spike’s mind.

He remembered her. How she’d sing. How she’d hold him, even though he was a crybaby. She put him in her hands and he’d hold on to her with his claws. No. With his hands.

His hands.

“Twilight,” he repeated, the word sending a shiver of nostalgia through his body. He looked towards the woman before him once more. “Amira.”

The scent on her wasn’t any dragon. It was his scent. She was, as Twilight told, already his. He brought a claw to her side, gently stroking a shoulder, noting how his nails had retreated back some, and not caring. Somehow, that felt right. Like it was supposed to be this way. He stared at her, even with her height.

“You are Amira,” he said, his tone less ominous and deep. Something akin to a smile came to his deformed snout, it flattening and retreating into his face. “You are… I am yours,” he said, like an epiphany. A wave of thoughts and memories blasted through his head like a bolt of lightning and he groaned in agony, stepping back and clutching his head. It came to him. He was a man. He wasn't this. He needed to come back. For the girls. For Celestia. For Twilight.

For Amira.

Spike sank to his knees, clutching his claws—his hands—to his face. A wave of disgust came to the forefront of his mind, the thoughts of what he did moments ago, what he tried to do, hurting him in a way Hakem could of only hoped to dream about.

He looked up at Amira from where he sat on the ground, naked and bruised, but uncaring about modesty.

“I…” he stammered out, unsure what he could say to her, to Luna, to Aedan. How he could apologize for what he had become. Tears broke and ran freely down his cheeks as he trembled on his knees in front of Amira. “I…”

“You are forgiven,” Amira said softly, kneeling down to him and pulling him into her embrace, “it wasn’t your fault…”

“Amira,” he croaked out, pulling tightly into her. He bawled, burying his head deep into her shoulder and nearly gagging in disgust at who he had become for a few brief moments.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Amira repeated

A noise from behind Amira drew their attention. Luna weakly shuffled towards them, clutching her side.

“She is right. Unless thou believe me to be at fault for all of Nightmare’s misdeeds.” She frowned. “It is a responsibility we must carry, Spike. But thou hath mine own forgiveness. Never forget that.”

A pained groan captured the attention of the three amid the destruction. Luna’s pupils contracted to the point where they were barely visible.

“Aedan…” she whispered to herself before fear got the better of her, “Aedan!”

Ignoring her fatigue she bolted in the direction of the groans, Spike and Amira close behind. It didn’t take long for Luna to spot the large man, slumped over his chest, breathing slowly as his hand covered a crimson pool around his waist. Wasting no time, Luna ran to his side, kneeling by him she gingerly removed his hand to inspect the damage.

Luna grimaced at what she saw, his armor had two holes punched into it, like a pencil would through paper. The first hole wasn’t of much concern, a mere scratch at his skin. The second, however, was cause for a great deal of alarm.

“We must leave shortly,” Luna said, placing the soldier’s hand back over his wound quickly in an attempt to shield the damage from Spike. “Aedan took a horrid blow. If I had the magical reserves within me, I could treat him. As I am now…”

“Yeah. Let’s go,” Spike replied, swallowing heavily, knowing full well the extent of the damage he had done. “I’m sure we can find some clothes for both of us along the way.”

“J-just a flesh wound…” Aedan chimed in weakly, leaning his head against the wall as he held a bloody hand over his injury, “j-just… a…”

Luna softly pressed her finger against the man’s lips, quietly shushing as she stared him squarely in the eyes. “Rest now,” she said, pulling his head to her still bare breasts in an effort to provide comfort, “‘Tis not the time for thine quips and banter, thou art suffering from shock.”

“In more ways than one,” Aedan replied dryly, shooting his eyes up to hers, the look on her face turning from genuine concern to her more common displeased look. “Sorry,” he said letting out a weak laugh, “I… I couldn’t resist.”

“If thou were any other man…” Luna huffed, fighting the urge to smile as she pulled him into her once more, “If thou were…”

“I know.” Aedan looked past Luna, nodding to Spike and Amira, “you two should…”

“What I believe Aedan is trying to say is that you should press on without us.” Luna finished mirroring Aedan’s action, “I shall stay and tend to my own in the meantime.”

Spike slowly nodded, weakly exhaling. He finally rose, wiping the tears at his face.

“Come, Spike,” Amira said offering him her hand, “we should be quick.”

He stumbled, but took her hand regardless, sniffing. “I… yeah.”

“Spike,” Amira almost whispered, putting her hand under his chin so he would look to her as she spoke. “Why must you cry?”

“Did you not see what I almost did?” he replied. “I… wouldn’t of been able to live with myself if I did anything to you.”

“And yet, here I stand, unharmed.” Amira replied, pulling him in close as the walked through the debris. “The past is indestructible Spike,” she began, looking down to him, “the more time you dwell on it in the present the less time you have for your future…” she paused, leaning down to give him a kiss the likes of which he’d never felt. The feeling calmed the raging fire that was his mind, the simple thought of being in this moment with her being the only thing he needed. Finally, she parted from him. She smiled at him, her eyes as warm as ever.

“For our future.” she finished, taking his hand once more and leading him down the hallway, as she had done such a short, but long time ago.

“Until the day I die,” he said quietly.

Together, they made their way.