The Madness of a Kind Mare

Many millennia ago, long before the rule of the twin alicorn sisters, the whole of Equestria was at war with itself. Vast armies of pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies battled against each other, each fighting over the dwindling resources needed to survive the harsh winters. It was a time of war and famine, much worse than the Hearth's Warming Eve stories would have ponies think.

The truth, as often happens to history, becomes a legend and legends become a myth. But this is a much darker tale. In these times of war, no efforts at compromise were made, the leaders refused to leave their lands, and there were no evil winter spirits feeding on the strife.

So how then, was peace finally established? It was not. Dragons, fierce and mighty in strength and size, along with their breath of fire, flocked into what is now Equestria. Within a week, all three armies were destroyed. The last remaining king of the earth ponies laid upon the blood soaked land. His mighty castles were plundered, dominions were in ruin, and many servants were eradicated. All was the work of the dragon-hellfire of which he sought to fight against. The dragons led a bloody conquest that consumed hundreds of thousands. Countless villages were razed to the ground and over twenty thousand were impaled and prostrated by the dragons to strike horror into the hearts of mortal ponies.

The king, mortally wounded, called out to the moonless night sky to ask with his dying breath for the power to avenge his kingdom and all the innocents and warriors lost to the fury of the dragons. With his last gasp the moon appeared on the horizon, pulsating with an eerie blue light as it granted the king’s dying wish.

The pulse of blue light filled the king's body, lifted the body from the ground, and condensed around it to form a pale blue armor. The armor began to mold into terrifying forms of skulls and bones, representing the death and decay of all the races in Equestria. From the ground protruded the blue hilt of a sword, which the king grasped with his undead hoof and pulled free a mighty blade, which whispered the name Frostmourne.

He looked around himself, surveying the aftermath of the slaughter of his army. As far as his eyes could see, the remains of his and his enemies’ armies blanketed the ground, their blood saturating the earth. In the darkness, even with the glow of the moon, the remains of the dragon fire lit up the battleground as bright as day; the flames reflected vividly in the pools of blood. With his glowing eyes he was able to see the souls of the soldiers, all of which were wandering aimlessly or dying over and over again.

Frostmourne hungers... The blade whispered, sensing the abundance of souls nearby. The fallen king raised his blade above his head, Frostmourne glowed a pale blue, and it feasted upon the souls of the damned, sucking them in as though it were a black hole. They created a swirling vortex around the king, the blade absorbing the souls with a savage hunger as it increased in power, and in turn, became thirsty for more. With all the souls absorbed, only then did the king lower the blade to his side.

More... Frostmourne whispered to his mind, Raise your armies once more... Reclaim victory from your foes... Slaughter all who stand in your way... Rule this world...

The new Lich King, his mind already weakened, was no match for the controlling whispers of the cursed blade. So he did as commanded, forcing the same power flowing through him into the empty bodies of his fallen kin. Soon the silence of the battle field was replaced by the rasping screams of the undead; unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies alike were now under his direct command.

With his armies replenished, he marched south towards the mountains in which the dragons made their homes. In each village and graveyard he passed were more dead to fuel his growing army, and by the end of the third day he had arrived at the base of the first mountain. His army now consisted of over seven hundred thousand bloodthirsty undead.

Two mighty dragons that were guarding their borders landed before the army with a mighty rumble, shaking the very foundations of the mountains themselves. They spared a moment to look over the opposition on their doorstep and seemed to chuckle to each other, then they roared with the fury of a thousand suns, shaking the very clouds from the sky as dragon fire consumed the opposing army.

The dragons grunted in satisfaction before turning away towards another section of the army, however, a deep chilling cackle forced them to face the fires once more. There in the flames stood the Lich King, untouched by the wrath of the fire by the chilling aura radiating from his body.

He then reared back and pointed Frostmourne at the dragons. "FEED!" He commanded, and his entire army rushed forward, immediately overwhelming the two dragons. The minions stripped the flesh from the bone, their teeth crushed the hard scales with ease. Soon nothing but bones and discarded scales laid upon the blood soaked ground, their souls fed to Frostmourne, and once again the king sent forth his magic to corrupt the skeletons, reanimating them into powerful allies.

With inconceivable power, the king leaped from the ground and mounted one of the undead dragons, and once more commanded his armies to attack. Like a flood, the horde surged forward into the mountains. So bloodthirsty and blinded by endless rage they plowed headlong into sheer cliffs, using each other as stepping stones to pile themselves up the side of the cliff to where the dragons roosted.

By the time the dragons knew what was happening, over half of their forces were consumed by the army and brought back to fight their kin. Eggs were smashed, blood flowed, and fires raged as the dragons fought to their last. Some managed to take to the skies but their undead brothers and sisters hunted them down and slaughtered them, allowing the new Lich King to bring them back to life just as quickly.

However, even with the skies in his control he allowed one dragon, smaller than the others, to flee back across the ocean to its homeland so word of his armies would spread to the entire world.

With victory finally at hand, the Lich King marched across the plains toward the remote settlements that housed all those that evacuated the main kingdom. There he found a village of all three races working together in order to simply survive. The earth ponies tended the land, while the pegasi monitored the weather to allow the crops to grow, and the unicorns set about providing heat and warmth through their spells.

As he neared the village, he ordered his army to halt a moderate distance away. He set off toward the settlement, but as he entered the village the ponies began screaming and running in a panic. Undeterred, he raised his voice above the chaos and announced his plan to rid the world of all the non-pony races so that they may never see the likes of the destruction brought by the dragons ever again.

He was met with intense opposition; none of the villagers saw his grand plan as he did and called him a monster. Consumed quickly by rage, he hunted down and began to slaughter the residents of the small village. He burst through the doors of a random home and without a second thought reamed his sword through a mare's neck. As she fell to the ground, her body revealed the form of a tiny yellow earth pony that looked up at him with fear in her bright blue eyes. He reached back with his sword in order to finish the job, but something about the filly stopped him in his tracks.

Finish it... Frostmourne hungers... the blade whispered, demanding its bidding be done. Once more he raised his blade, but the filly said something that made him hesitate once more.

"D-daddy?" she asked with a horrified whimper.

The Lich King dropped his blade to the floor, clutching his head as he reeled back. Memories that had been suppressed and locked away flooded his mind. He looked toward the mare he had slain and was able to recognize her. He had lived with her, married her, made love to her, supported her when his daughter was born, his beautiful wife River and adorable filly Melody.

Realization hit him as he recalled sending Melody and River away before the final battle, knowing then he would never see them again, yet here he was kneeling in his wife's blood while his daughter looked on in terror.

"M...Melody..." He tried, but the influence of Frostmourne was quickly overtaking him once more. "R-River… I... I'm so sorry..." With the last of his free will he grasped Frostmourne once again, flipped the blade around, and plunged it straight through his heart.

Frostmourne screamed out in rage as its vassal was stripped of the moon's power, the cold blue aura fading as his armor and body was reduced to ash, his vast army fading along with him. With no other choice, the blade and the power of the moon fused itself within the blood of the king that flowed through the small filly.

And so it came to pass, from generation to generation the power of the blade dwindled to barely a fraction of its former glory, as none of the ponies inheriting its power chose to wield it. And in time, it too, became a legend which fadded into a myth, and was soon forgotten.

"...But not by us, right mommy?" A small pegasus filly asked.

"Nope! And do you know why?" the older mare asked, to which her daughter shook her head, "We remember so that we don't become consumed as the earth pony king did all those years ago. That same power flows through our veins, and if we really needed it to, it will answer our pleas the same way it did for the king, but at the same terrible price. So you must remember, never EVER try to use this power, or you will be lost to it forever. Understood?"

"Yes mommy." The filly said, nodding her head rapidly.

"Alright sweetie," the older mare said, tucking her daughter into her bed, "Don't forget, you have to get up early tomorrow for your first day at flight camp." The filly nodded again as she snuggled into her pillow. "Goodnight, my sweet Fluttershy."