The Equestria Games: Even the Innocent Don't Stay Innocent Forever

Rarity's heart beat with the tempo of a thousand snare drums. Her head ached and her legs burned, but she kept running, running, always running. Occasionally the smell would waft up to her nose, chemicals and rotting flesh and an overall stench of death. Every so often another wave of nausea would hit her. But she had to keep running. She had promised her mother and father she'd protect Sweetie Belle, and she was never going to break her promise.

Somewhere behind her, she heard the echoing sound that meant another bomb had gone off. She wondered how many ponies that had killed. How many it had left behind, seconds from death, in more pain than any one pony could ever dream of.

It sickened her.

She'd never understood why they did it. Why these horrible equines would mindlessly kill innocent ponies. But whatever the motives behind it could be, even if they were 'for the greater good', nothing would never make up for all the damage they'd caused.

Finally she had to stop running. Her legs couldn't take it anymore. Exhausted, she slumped to a heap on the ground, the bundle of cloth that was Sweetie Belle strapped to her back.

She heard the clopping of hoofbeats directly behind her, hoping against hope that it was her parents. But when she turned around to look, instead of the pained but loving faces of her parents, she was greeted by the unsympathetic, unsmiling faces of the Peacekeepers.

All the fight left her, and she struggled to get up.

Rarity tossed and turned in her bed, unable to free herself from the awful nightmares. Just a few years ago, Equestria had been a war zone. Corpses had laid dead in the streets, and those seconds before death took their very last breath, racked with unimaginable pain.

Soon, she woke up, the rest of her dreams having not been any better. Rolling over, she glanced at her little sister, sleeping soundly in the bed next to hers. Oh, how she loved that little filly... Rarity had vowed to protect her long ago, and she would to anything to keep that true. She wouldn't bear to lose her...

Sighing, Rarity sat up. It would do no good to dwell on such things.

She quickly got out of bed, going over to arouse her sister as well. The little white unicorn was fast asleep, the warm blankets pulled up over her head.

"Sweetie Belle," she said, pulling the covers off of the filly. "It's time to wake up, Sweetie Belle."

Sweetie Belle reached over and pulled the covers back over her, rolling to face away from Rarity. Rarity laughed, pulling the covers back down.

"Ah-ah-ah, Sweetie!" she said teasingly.

The little unicorn rolled back over, opening one eye to look at Rarity questioningly.

"What's the big idea, Rarity?" she asked, her tone faintly annoyed. "It's still dark out, we don't have to get up for a couple hours."

"At least," Rarity responded. "Not usually."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" Sweetie questioned.

"I mean," the older mare responded, "that today's Reaping Day."

It took a moment for the words to settle into Sweetie Belle's  brain, but when they did, she sat up, her eyes big and terror running through her veins.

"Why so scared?" Rarity questioned. "It's not as if you haven't been trained for this."

"I have, but it's still scary. I don't want to be reaped!" Sweetie exclaimed.

The unicorn shook her head, a playful smile on her face.

"Oh, Sweetie Belle, you don't have to worry about that," Rarity said. "You're only one slip of paper in thousands. The chances of you getting picked are slimmer than Fleur de Lis."

Sweetie smiled at the simile, a common one in their little home.

"Well, dear, I've got several orders to fill today. I'm afraid I won't be able to entertain you as I usually do," Rarity remarked.

The filly shook her head.

"That's okay!" she announced, running off outside. Through the open door, Rarity could just make out the hazy moon slipping over the horizon.

Rarity shook her head. How the filly managed to switch gears so quickly never ceased to amaze the fashionista. One moment she'd be upset, worried about the reaping, and the next she'd be as hyper as a newborn puppy that's just gotten into the sugar bowl.

As Rarity went about doing her work, a tiny nugget of doubt slipped into the back of her mind. Sure Sweetie was only one slip of paper out of thousands, but it only took one slip of paper to be reaped. She simply couldn't ignore the thought, and it troubled her for the rest of the day.

Whilst Rarity was busy cutting and sewing fancy ballgowns and other dresses in the shop, Sweetie Belle ran throughout the town, knocking over several ponies on her way there.

Soon she arrived at a large oak tree just on the outskirts of town. A small treehouse was tucked away between the branches. It was quite a fancy affair for a foal's playhouse, with neat pink trim, little couches inside, and a lovely deck surrounding it.

Her small horn glowed, undoing a simple latch on a bundle of rope. A rope ladder fell down in quick succession.

Inside the treehouse, she wasted no time peeling up a floorboard, releasing clouds of dust as well as a stack of parchment papers.

They appeared to be a sort of diary, pages and pages covered in messy foal's hoofwriting. Sweetie grabbed a writing pencil with one hoof, beginning to inscribe a new entry.

"Today is reaping day," she wrote. "Why am I so worried? I know I probably won't get picked...but what it I do? Or Rarity does? This is bad...