Once upon a time, there was a unicorn, who lived deep, deep within the strangest of all forests. He was old and frail, resentful and bitter, with nothing but hatred and pride in his heart. His vision had nearly abandoned him, his body did not move as he wished it to anymore, and the few sparks of friendship in his life had faded to nothingness.
He was a great mind, a thinker unlike anyone else, with skill to trump even the King and Queen. He had been praised by all over the years, even by the King himself. How he longed to hear his work praised again, oh how he wished to taste sweet success yet again. How he wished to hear their oohs and aahs, their gasps of thrill and enchantment. His name had been written down in books, and would be spoken of for decades. However, it wasn't enough.
They had cast him aside! Because of one incomplete spell that caused havoc, they had abandoned him! One measly little spell. One incomplete work of art. A diamond, in the rough.
He would show them. Long and hard he had thought of a way to show his brilliance. Long forgotten as part of the living, he had hidden from view, from life itself. Long forsaken by the world, but he would rise again.
The old and frail unicorn needed power. But ferocious, raw power did not come naturally to him. But dragons, were the perfect targets. With their incinerating breath and ever growing anger, they were perfect.
However, not even somepony of his caliber could tame a fully grown dragon. Get it to do a favor, perhaps, but make it do his bidding without failure? Such goals were impossible to reach. Instead, the old unicorn took the essence of a dragon, the newly passed soul, and stored it in a jar. And the hunt began. By the end of winter, he had the souls of one hundred dragons.
Days became weeks, weeks became months, months became years. through discord and terror the unicorn worked, perfecting his spell. His creation.
Out of poison joke and iron oak, he created a shell; an egg in which to store his spell. He found the right ingredients for an obedient dragon made out of dragon's souls; a pony's heart and the laughter of a foal. A few hairs and a feather from the princess of the night to make it thrive in the dark, a black cat's eye for perfect sight. A sapling from the tree of harmony for kindness towards its master, and no little amount of magic. It couldn't go wrong. It was perfection.
Three long years it took for the egg to become warm with life. Three long years of feeding magic into the shell. Three long years of constant watch. And it was time.
Chanting in a language long forgotten, the little cottage, deep within the forest, was shining bright. The chanting got louder as the light got brighter, shining like a star trapped on the ground. Then suddenly, the light vanished, sucked into the shell. It was as though it had sucked in sound itself, before the first crack appeared.
And then it was over. In a bright white and blue flash that would be spoken of for many years to come, the cottage and its owner was no more. In the ashen crater there laid a small little creature. With fur and scales, with mane and wings, it was neither pony nor dragon, intimidating nor vile.
It was but a little baby, brought into the world by ill intent and pride.
With no one in the world to love it.
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