Surface of the Sun: Random Drabble

by Konstantin Volkov

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Celestia, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 1580

An assassin recounts his final moments. Moments spent walking on the surface of the Sun.

I knew that walking into that Castle spelled certain death. I knew that today I would die, leaving behind all I had gained. But it was necessary. This war had gone on long enough. To many had died for no reason other that the amusement of our so called leader. Blood stained the ground, the trees, and the sky. No-pony was safe...not until now.

With this, my final act, I shall end this war. By sacrificing myself, I give all ponies the rights and freedoms they deserve. I pray they know what to do with this gift, it came at too high a cost...

Published 2012-02-19 12:54:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-02-19 12:54:01 UTC

Chapter 1

The following story was written as part of a challenge between myself and a close friend. 20 minutes to type, first person view, then use the song you are given as the theme for the peice. I was given 'Surface of the Sun' by John Murphy.

I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own MLP: FiM or any of the characters from the show. Nor do I own Surface of the Sun by John Murphy. The only thing I own is the OC used in this writing.

There was only one way that this could end. Only one way that this fight could finally reach its conclusion. How many had died so that we, 9 ponies could reach this tiny chamber within the cold confines of Canterlot's palace? A few hundred thousand? A million? More? How much blood had I spilled in the name of freedom, how much pain had I caused? Was I no better than the monster I am about to defeat?

I dared not think of these things. I could not allow such thoughts to rise, not here, not now. Thought would come later, when I entered the Void. For now I had to take action. I had to finish this fight, and end this war forever. One last job for an old broken solider.

I run forward, my hooves pounding on the marble below. Each step claps loudly, the sound bouncing between the massive pillars of blood-soaked stone around me. The world seems to move in slow motion as it goes by. Various shades of black and crimson vitae coat the walls and floor. It shines beautifully in the light, like a fine wine reflecting the light of a warm summer sunset.

I narrowly avoid slamming a hoof down into the mangled corpse of one of Celestia's finest. A name flashes in my mind alongside bits of random data. Silver Cross, Sergeant, Imperial Guardsman. He liked playing poker and drinking hard cider with his friends. Had a daughter, Lily, and a wife, Sweet Tart.

Externally my gaze is focused forward, tearing into the once tyrannical leader that lays wounded before me. A Goddess torn down from her throne by her most trusted pupil, and made to feel the sufferings and pain of all those that she had chosen to oppress. Again the groups screams at me, especially Twilight, each begging me to let them handle this. Not to sacrifice myself.

I ignore them, even though my heart tries to tear itself apart in my chest when I do so. I have to ignore them because this...this is it. One last job, one last fight. The greatest one I have ever known. I pray to the Spirits to guide them, and grant them safe harbor after I am gone.

They will need it, as will the others that occupy this war ravaged land.

I get closer to my target by the second, and upon reaching the appropriate distance I rear back and then leap. Pushing off the smooth marble floor with every ounce of strength my weakened body can muster. The muscles in my flank and back scream in protest, but I ignore them too. Just like the cries of my companions.

My chest expands rapidly with the push-off; one last breath before I go. The air is stale and smells of blood, death, and Spirits know what else. The putrid concoction is strong enough to actually form a flavor on my tongue. It is sour, I do not enjoy it.

Without thinking I extend the blade on my weapon; an intricately designed hoof-blade. It slides forward with the same silent grace it always did before locking in place, tip and body flashing in the light. It, like me, knows that this is it. This kill, and the few seconds it will take, are to be its last.

As I get closer to the body of the fallen Divine, I feel her magic start to tear away at my exposed flesh. It is agonizing, I almost cry out; almost. I do not have time for pain, no suffering can slow me now. Just a few more inches, then one final thrust of the hoof. That is all I need, all I can offer now. No more.

My armor sparks and screeches loudly, wards and enchantments exploding into light and sound as they fail to do their jobs; namely absorb and dissipate the magic attacking me. Its no use now however, too much magical interference; too much power. They fail after a few seconds, but only after having held on just long enough.

With a final cry that breaks my usual calm facade I thrust my hoof forward. The Divine gasps, eyes going wide with pain. A strangled cry escapes her along with a few violent expulsions of her own blood. My blade has found its mark. Its length tears easily through the tissue between her ribs, sinking deep into her lung and further still. Her heart, pounding wildly in a violent tattoo, spasms and thrashes against the very last few inches of my blade; I can feel the blade shifting with the beats. This only serves to aid my mission.

Weakened as she is. Stripped of her once legendary magic and divine gifts, the goddess is powerless child. Curled up and hurt, crying for safety as she bled. I see this now, I embrace the fact. My eyes lock on hers and the air fills with a strange electricity. We were enemies she and I, two forever destined to duel against one another. Yet now she pleads, begging the for the pain to stop. She is scared, shocked, cold.

Alone.

I smile, an air of dissonant serenity coming to reside over my features as I give my blade a final twist. She will not die alone, not today.

A sudden explosion of heat rushes over me. The armor that once saved my life now begins to melt, searing into, and fusing with, the skin and flesh of my body. It is terrible, the pain, the heat. I can do nothing but raise my head to the heavens, screaming out in a silent horror. I knew this would happen. There was never any other way it could end.

Those that fight often die, and rivals like us will only stop when one or both of us is dead.

Idly my mind ponders something, somehow still able to function despite the fact that my flesh is now starting to transform to ash, and my blood is starting to boil. Is this what it is like to walk on the surface of the sun? To touch and dance along that vast fiery orb in the sky? Yes, I think it is. How fascinating.

Moments pass and then I collapse, my limbs no longer have the strength or muscle mass to hold me upright. Not that I would want to stand. No, not this time. I am too tired, I must lay down; sleep one last time.

The magics of the dying goddess continue to envelope me and her, consuming all within their grasp. The flesh of nearby carcasses is consumed quickly, turned to ash and scattered on waves of heat. Like snow, the flakes of ash fall and flurry about the open, airy room.

I am reminded of winter, rather silly considering my current locale. The marble below us starts to melt with the heat of a dying goddess, along with the brilliant golden armor that covers both her, and the bodies of the guards around us. It is equally beautiful and horrifying; the sight of burning gold.

I stand upon the surface of the sun, walking silent in a dream
But I wake in sweat and pain, mouth open in a scream...

It is the only thing I can think of before my mind starts to fail. An excerpt from an ancient poem I had heard somewhere long ago.

Seconds pass and soon there is almost nothing left of me. No armor, no strength, no pride. I am...free. Honestly, truly free. Free to die, suffer, and rest.

My hoof-blade melts, falling off to the ground. My final thoughts are those of memories. I feel the touch of a healers hoof, the cold bite of winter as I help shovel snow. I see the faces of soldiers, targets, and friends. Some are beautiful, innocent, joyous. Others are twisted by pain and rage, shock and fear, death and horror. I regret nothing I have done. I accept who and what I am, and in doing so I find my self at peace.

A peace found only in death, when I was walking upon the surface of the Sun.

Greetings Konstanin Volkov here! This story marks the first Fanfiction I have ever published on this site. So, if I may ask it of you, please leave constructive criticism and reviews for me. It helps me become a better writer in the end.

Due to time constraint I had to leave a huge chunk of information out of the picture, and this story suffered for it. I may expand on this in the future, but that is rather sketchy.

I suggest reading this while listening to the song 'Surface of the Sun' by John Murphy, it greatly enhances the experience I think.

Also, please note that this story does not in fact follow my personal thoughts/opinions of certain characters from the show; Celestia for example.