Game of Ponies: Frozen Ashes

Chapters

Prologue/Divinity (Part 1)
Divinity (Part 2)
The bear and the hummingbird
Games ponies play
The King, the Mare, and the Brothel
The Spark That Lights the Flame

Prologue/Divinity (Part 1)

Seven years since the first ships set their course across the sea, and not a single day afterwards did this feeling depart from my stomach. It's as if I have been unknowingly consuming the essence of polin, it’s a horrid sensation, makes my sleepless nights that much worse. I write this letter to you for one reason and one reason only, to inform of the situation that has spawned from the inner workings of my mind. My position does not need to remain a secret, I, along with my advisers are set up in an encampment approximately eighty seven miles east of the Everfree, along the coast of the Arien. Do not fear, we have taken the lonely road, no one noticed us, however, we are difficult not to see along the coastline. I advise you not to take pursuit as by the time you receive this letter I will be half across the ocean, there will not be a trace of our camp left, and most importantly, you’ll be away from Canterlot leaving you more vulnerable than ever.

I do not plan to make this letter any longer than it needs to be, the resources in Equestria are dwindling Princess, we mustn't prolong the inevitable. I knew the risks when I sent those ships out all those years ago, and I wouldn't have done so if I wasn't sure of the future. I wouldn't have sent MY closest of friends to lead the exploration if I knew the land to cease was small, but it wasn't, we all knew it wasn't. It has now been years since the last convoy, or the last scout, or even the last letter was received from across the sea. I have made this choice to not only advance Equestria’s position in whatever is occurring seven hundred miles east of us, but to end the brewing conflict. I have no choice, I must do this. You have said on multiple occasions that losing another princess is a toll Equestria cannot live through, however, I am not so sure that she’s lost.

We are at the brink of war, the cost of survival has never been higher, there is nowhere the unblinking eye of Death doesn't see. I have been driven mad by the loss of my friends, my family, and I, along with the seven thousand with me will not rest until we have discovered our loved ones… dead, or alive. The kingdom I was brought up to lead has already began crumbling, there is nothing I can do any longer. The morale of my troops has already sunken and what they have ahead of them is perhaps the toughest weeks of their lives, an environment never before seen by their eyes… creatures never before encountered, choices never before made. I have been told one cannot fear the unknown unless the unknown can be predicted or known... I am not afraid.

Sincerely, your equal, Princess Twilight Sparkle

Chapter 1

Divinity

The wind howled past the remnants of burnt land and villages around the snow covered hills, with its dry chilling grasp it crept up on any living soul imprisoned in the dense forest ahead, the taciturn, and murky dusk barely did anything to illuminate the milky white snow coating the dead grass in an icy blanket. The only form of light was glistening on a low hill overlooking that same lifeless forest. Almost as bright as any star that light source unhurriedly made its way to the left of the peak, suddenly stopping.

A battle-scarred Stallion stood proudly atop with his wooden torch planted firmly into the snow next to him, the wind raging through his dark brown mane making it blow behind him as he exhaled a single tepid breath. It immediately turned into a cold fog leaving his mouth and disappearing, he gave off a slight shiver through his rigorously plated and fur-coated steel armor covering almost every inch of his muscular body, a small leather satchel was strapped onto his right side, the corners of it coated in glimmering ice. He squinted and then shut his right eye as the powerful wind gusted along him speckling his side with crystalized water, the air so frigid his warmth was not enough to melt the snow on his body. A single, yet prominent scar decorated his face, stretching from above his right eye down to the left side of his muzzle, the fur on the corners of the scar frozen. With a short motion he stomped the ground below him before looking up at the darkness. A few desolate stars dotted the ebony sky, he gave a small smirk before another gust of wind carried enough snow to almost entirely conceal his view. He exhaled, trying to stagger his breaths as much as possible. His pale brown eyes scanned the dense forest ahead of him before darting back to the torch he had planted into the ground. The flame was dancing below him extending its inviting blistering fingers in his direction, he momentarily thought of stepping his steel plated hoof in the direction of the torch but quickly shook that thought out of his freezing mind. He peered behind him with his mouth marginally open as he breathed the dry, frosty air.

“Step forth M’lady!” He bellowed into the pitch blackness behind him, the snow and wind concealing anything more than a few meters around him. A shadowy figure, significantly smaller than him stepped forward, her slender body draped in somewhat extravagant dark cloth, her body almost a wisp in the night air barely visible from afar apart from the lavish golden necklace she wore around her neck, but even it was obscured by the gale. A delicate white muzzle peeked out of her cloth covered face, the fur at the tip of it coated with soft snow. The cloth draped over her back was blowing behind her as the stallion’s mane was, she made another soft graceful step forward as her covered face peered up at him and she spoke in a crisp, elegant, undeniably foreign accent, “ What did you bring me out here for?”

The stallion gave an almost unmoving nod and looked down at her, trying to figure out whether she could see him or not through that dark cloth. “M…M’lady…” she cut him off before he could continue, “You told me this is of dire urgency Gorin… I have traveled far too long and for a vast amount of days to get an answer, now speak.” Gorin shifted uncomfortably and signaled for her to move closer by moving his hoof back towards his body, making a quickly vanishing mark in the silky snow. She stepped forward for a first time, he could now make out the gorgeous detail of her delicate muzzle, however, he could not see the rest of her body, or even her mane.

“Aye” Gorin spoke in a slightly skewered accent, his brusque voice becoming hard to understand through the wailing squall, “it is not safe to speak at Esics, I had to take these precautions...I…” She cut him off once more, “Unsafe? Now what makes you say that?”

He raised a hoof and pointed out towards the forest, “Bleakwood, not a single trace of life makes it out of those woods” He glanced upward towards a much higher peak, “Those villages were pillaged by the chaotics, not a single living soul from the southern kingdoms has step foot there in over one hundred years, and way back there…” He paused and pointed one of his hooves beyond the forest to whatever was shrouded by the storm “there… Highridge peak lays, the only thing between the north and the overgrown.” The mare spoke up once more, gracing his eardrums with her smooth, supple voice “I know the lay of the land darling, why am I here?”

Gorin seemed to ignore the mare’s question, “M’lady, did you know that on a clear day, from this very tor you could see all four edges of the continent?”

The lady walked up to Gorin, her lips unemotional and un-moving, suddenly, Gorin noticed a faint glow resonating from inside her cloth hood in a specific location, exactly where he’d imagine her upper forehead to be. He heard a few, seemingly distant metallic clanks, but quickly noticed a small, ostensibly leather pouch getting lifted from out of the side of her cloth-wrapped body. A thin beige string was wrapped around one end holding in what Gorin knew were golden coins. The pouch floated slickly to the front of the stallion’s hooves, before it dropped next to them. He glanced at her, his eyes almost shut, a hint of seemingly pure disappointment or disdain coated his scarred face, instead of hiding this from whom he called his lady, instead, he showed it clearer than a diamond.

“Your gold has no value to me M’lady” He took one hoof and gently pushed the coin filled pouch next to the mare’s hooves, “you know that.”

The mare briskly replied, “Oh please, you may be my guardian but I’m not a fool, whatever information you are about to spill came from somepony, I suggest… you pay them back.” What seemed like a minuscule smirk appeared on her covered face before rapidly vanishing as she levitated the pouch and rested it inside the leather satchel on Gorin’s side. As she closed the satchel once more, a silence fell amongst the two, only the sound of the howling wind and the mare’s cloth behind them consumed the air. Gorin exhaled and looked back at the sky, his fur now clearly wet and matted from the snow.

“A scout reported seeing a fleet of around fifty advancing towards our west.” The mare’s glance shot up at Gorin, he was still looking at the sky, now slightly more visible than before. His face, unchanging, while his mane blew in the wind mimicking the flames broiling tendrils.

The mare responded, her voice a bit more shaky than before, “Oh? And I came out here in the freezing cold because this is supposed to concern me?” The stallion stood still for a few more moments, focusing on the unbearable cold of the wind and snow instead of her statement.

“No, I brought you out here because you are far from safe M’lady.” He finally peered back down at her as she responded. “Not safe? The only thing not safe is this dreadful storm, my clan is only keeping me safe…” Gorin shook his head and took a step back, “There are eyes and whispers everywhere… there are ponies who know where you’re from, you are far from safe M’lady.”

The mare pawed at the snow covered ground as she seemingly debated what to say next, “I don’t believe you… but I suppose I wouldn’t be a proper lady if I didn’t at least consider my given options, what do you suppose I do with this information?”

“Well…” Gorin began, “you should be there to see them in, to greet them.”

“Who?” She inquired teasingly.

“You know where they are from M’lady, you need to be there.”

“And why should I be there?”

Gorin raised his hoof and wiped the snow from the side of his face, then he gently put it back down onto the ground before answering her, “They are in a foreign land, they need to…” She cut him off with a raised voice, “I have moved on, I have built a life here, I cannot be associated with them, you know that, I know that, whoever they may be… I will not risk the travel.”

Gorin opened his mouth but quickly noticed a flash of that black cloth and her walking away from him, he paused for a moment and then turned around and shouted into the howling wind, “M’lady! I think you are making the wrong decision!”

The mare stopped and turned her back towards him, ignoring his statement, she replied before trotting into the darkness, “Keep the bits, I’m feeling generous today.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Author's Note

This is just part 1 of a 2 part chapter

Divinity (Part 2)

“Right here” She slammed her hoof down onto the wooden table shaking the figurines placed all around what seemed like a badly disorganized map. Her eyes darted from corner to corner of the map examining all the ridges and hills before pausing and taking a deep breath. A extremely loud crack was heard from the outside of her wooden room, countless shouts drained out by what seemed like rain pounding against the wooden floors, the room tilted slightly sideways causing the figurines to collapse and begin rolling off the table, however, they stopped mid-roll with a faint purple haze around them and they stood back up seemingly by themselves. The mare straightened out the table and map with her magic as well, her stern look slightly strained in the process.

A stallion burst through the decorated wooden door panting loudly, behind him a storm of water was billowing. Several stallions toppled backwards as another wave of the ocean water crashed onto the deck shaking the ship furiously. Incomprehensible shouting was heard, some of the stallions had tear stained eyes concealed under the dark of night and the pouring rain, others, anger in their hearts as they tirelessly worked to switch the direction of the ship or avoiding getting hit by the crashing sprays. A single stallion was barely holding onto the guard railing on the side of the ship, his eyes swollen, his face bludgeoned and bloody, and his mouth open and shouting words of anguish towards the others who were busy avoiding the cold grasp of death in the pitch black water below. His hooves wrapped around the rails slowly slipping as he let out shocked whimpers and gasps as his friends, the swore he swore to stand by and protect were too busy to help him, too caught up in their own lives to save his. With one last feeble kick his right hoof slipped, another colossal wave hit the opposite side of the ship, shaking the wood and splintering the side causing his other hoof to slip as well, the last image he saw stained his mind, however, not for long, his limp body plummeted into the ocean, all hope for survival lost the moment he saw the fleet of oncoming ships before being sucked into yet another wave. The air in his lungs getting sucked out by the manic sea, a few more weak paws at the hull of the next moving ship before his body was completely caught in the ocean, floating lifelessly, forgotten.

“Speak your mind Colonel” the voice of the winged mare cut the incomprehensible din of noises outside like paper, he continued panting madly as he walked over, completely drenched in water and kicked the wooden door closed with his rear hoof, shutting out the sound of torment, anger, and death so it wouldn't bother the princess.

Her mane must be the only dry one on board, her dark purple, streaked mane well taken care of and scented by a hint of lavender, her brighter, more distinguishable purple coat almost illuminated the darkened room, her slender body had folded wings, and a tail with another streak of lighter shades of purple going down it. Her face was stern, yet she bore a visible sense of fatigue as she tried her hardest to prevent herself from collapsing right then.

The panting stallion paused and examined his princess from head to hoof admiring her calm demeanor in this time of great peril. His eyes dashed from the map to her own eyes as he swiftly tried to decipher what she was examining.

“Colonel.” She paused and glanced at the rugged, wet, and panting stallion, his matted dark green mane disheveled and dripping wet, his pale blue coat shimmering in the dimly lit room. “Speak your mind or get the hell out of my chambers.” She said bluntly.

“Princess…” the stallion pants, “we lost three ships already, we need to gain control of this storm not keep proceeding haplessly!” The stallion quickly uttered an apology to his princess under his breath, it getting sapped out by another crash of waves. “Are you questioning your princess, Banner?” she asked. The stallion shook his head, “My princess, moving onward at this pace,” He paused and placed a hoof on the table “We’ll lose at least another three ships.”

“Casualties?” She asked.

“Around 800, atleast.” He replied and turned away from her stone-cold stare. “And our special passenger? How’s she?” The princess asked once more.

“Last I checked…” He began but got interrupted, “And when was that?” The stallion uttered something under his breath and then spoke aloud once more. “When we were about to depart.” He said pensively and looked back at her deep purple eyes.

“Very well… What else?”

“How are we going to proceed once we land? We hardly know the lay of the land.” The stallion motioned to the crudely drawn map.

“That is not the priority, get back out there and make sure my ship doesn't sink,” She stared up at him as he nodded and scurried out of the wooden room, she eyed him unsympathetically and got a brief glance at the chaos outside, but the door shut before she could make out anything coherent.

She turned her head to glance behind her, a shadowy figure was leaning against the wall, the composure she maintained was quickly disintegrating as her hooves buckled under her body and she collapsed onto the reverberating wooden floor. Her breathing was heavy, yet weak, her perfectly shelved wings were now laying limply on the deck. The figure in the shadows came to the light, a light brown-coated stallion emerged in the dim-light room. His eyes a lighter shade of blue, with a short dark brown mane styled so its short strands pointed backwards, he donning an imperial dark blue cloak trimmed with gold, it rested grandly over his body, it’s length getting dragged along behind him, he used a hoof to throw the right side of his cloak over his body as though he wanted to be closer to the princess. She noticed a quick flash of his hourglass-shaped mark on his flank before he knelt down beside her the cloak regaining its previous position.

“You made me the only high general earth pony for a reason princess… you trust me.” He paused for a moment and placed his hoof under her chin as he raised it so she could meet his eyes with hers, “You are tired, weak, you need rest.”

She feebly opened her mouth, but closed it and turned away from his gaze, “I don’t know how to command, seven years and what do I have to show? A broken kingdom and failure.” She lowered her head staring at the cracked wooden floorboards. “My princess,” he began, “this is why we are doing this, this will give you, my princess, Twilight… glory, fame, and you will finally get the respect you desire.”

He leaned in closer to her, running his hoof through her mane as he began lifting his body upwards and helping her on her hooves. She gave him a quick glance, almost as a tepid thank you for his words before she glared back at the map resting on the table, a few of the figures rolling about while the others slightly shaking due to the calming storm outside.

“I don’t know what this is… whatever this is… I-I can’t lead the soldiers if I don’t even know what the HELL these things even mean!” With the flick of her head and a glowing horn the table toppled over crashing onto the wooden floor, the figurines pouring onto the deck rolling about uncontrollably. The stallion walked next to her and gently placed his hoof on her cheek and looked at her, a concerned expression enveloped his face.

“Get some rest princess, let me take you to your bed.” He motioned to the smaller wooden door opposite the one leading to the discord outside. “No” she replied, “I’ll lead myself, I leave you to command while I am gone.” She gave a quick nod and began softly walking to that door. He called out to her, saying something about the soldiers not listening to another earth pony like himself, all she could mutter was a quick statement of reassurance before exiting the room leaving him alone, in the princess’s chambers, a single lantern above, and a collapsed table beside him.

“Open the gates!” A gruff shout interrupted the calm, grey, desolate morning, the cold wooden gates towered over the stallion, their intimidating black metal spanning over forty meters high, at the very top of the gate there were spear-like protrusions decorated by disembodied heads of stallions, mares, fillies, anyone whom these ponies could get their hoofs on.

Stories were told about the Clan of Chaos, the savages whom tore up the north pillaging villages, leaving no stone unturned, no house unburnt, and no mare un-violated. The people of the south want to believe them as myth, as lies told to little children to keep them from wandering far away from their homes, to make them behave, yet this clan is far from a myth. They are located in the north east of the continent on what was deemed Wyverncliff also named Cliff of the red wyvern in the myths told. Legend has it that that the last known Wyvern, a great beast with the head of a dragon, the body of a lizard, and skeletal wings was taken down by one hundred adventurers during the second age. The barbarians of the Clan of Chaos claimed this land years afterwards, the immense cliff that it inhabits looks over the ocean and the crashing waves on a piece of land nicknamed Trident, this land juts out into the ocean in the shape of what seemed to be a sea-trident. The members of this clan were known to capture any ships crashed into the land, any survivors were either sold into slavery, or used for ritual sacrifice. This same legend states these brutal savage ponies of the earth were created for the sole purpose of defeating these winged beasts, however, once the wyvern’s died out, the god whom created the barbarians did not destroy them, instead, he gave them life in the north.

The barbarians, nicknamed Emids by the southerners, came together and formed their belief on a new god, no longer the one that supposedly gave them life. Instead, the one that allegedly gave them their lust for blood, the god of chaos. The clan formed, a clan of brutal nomads, thieves, and slayers who destroyed anything in their path. Lead by Gregor Bloodfury, son of Khor Bloodfury, this tribe has found a home on Wyverncliff for the time being.

A resounding clank of metal interrupted the tall stallion’s thoughts as he stared at the gates trembling and slowly opening. Two stallions were on the outside turning two massive wooden levers on either side, making the gate creek and open outwards. A cloud of dust shrouded the lower corners of the gateway with the sound of metal against metal echoing through the day, almost like thunder the stallions stopped turning their leavers and the gate dropped into place, open just wide enough for the stallion to ride through. Three other’s followed him, each one with a different shade of brown for a coat, with strips of leather and other armor-like gear.

The one in front of them was significantly taller than then the rest, his mane pitch black and blowing in the wind as he galloped down the cliffside, his light brown coat decorated with tribal stripes, his ears were pierced multiple times with golden rings thicker than a young tree’s branch. His eyes grey, always angry and never blinking. His plated shoulder guards were scratched and war-torn, he wore them proudly. He had two axes on him, each one sheathed at either side of his body. His battle scarred body glimmered as the sun peeked out of the grey clouds shining upon these descending stallions.

As they reached the bottom, gazing at the Trident, the report of a beached ship was true, along with waves crashing against the rock there was a large wooden ship with half its body on land. The other half was almost torn completely off, only the left half of it was still intact while the right was lost at sea. The barbarians exchanged glances, as one of the three, one with a slightly curly dirty blonde mane and a dark brown coat galloped onwards toward the ship.

The largest of the stallion said something about the other two taking a scout of the land, however, he quickly changed his mind once he approached the large ship and told them to go inside to search for anything left behind while he takes a look at the top deck.

Disembodied limbs were scattered around the lower deck, ravens pecked at the bodies of the stallions and mares on board the deck, the pungent sent of death and decay emanated from the ship. There was hardly any blood, all of it washed off by the sea, just the bodies of the blood drained stallions spread around. He stepped carefully onto the half-broken staircase leading onto the top of the deck, with his mouth he unsheathed his large axe from his side and began walking slowly up the creaking staircase. As he walked through the collapsed doorway onto the main deck he was greeted with more death, he counted seven stallions, each one with severed hooves, parasite infested wounds, and perhaps broken skulls. He walked over to one in particular, this one’s body was seemed to be the least destroyed. His light blue eyes faded and half shut, his mouth open with just a hint of dark crimson blood at the corners of it. His slightly darker blonde mane was wet and ragged and several deep wounds decorated his white coat.

The armor he wore was still in mint condition, the golden chest plate only slightly dented, in the center there was a dark purple star imprinted directly on the metal. Each side of the star had a word next to it, the stallion dug his axe into the wooden floor next to him and eyed the words on the star.

“Honesty, kindness, loyalty” He read in his mind, he peered to the lower side of the mark, “generosity, magic, and… laughter” He gave a smirk as he read this symbol. His eyes moved around the chest plate until they rested on what seemed to be a badge, something golden attached to the top right of the golden plate, it read, Commander Blueblood, and below that badge there were several torn red strings hanging loosely off it.

While that stallion was exploring the top deck the other two were rapidly searching throughout the cupboards and shelves of the lowest one, the only sound in the air was guttural grunts, and the dropping of wood or the distinct clatter of something metal. The third stallion was at the very lowest level of the ship, scanning what seemed to be the place of food for the soldiers, the entire room was almost completely collapsed. What used to be a massive table was completely shattered, while the aroma of death infested this lower area even more so than the others. This stallion peeked around the collapsed area, seeing what he thought was a soldier, his body was torn in half with only his upper torso attached, his neck was torn open and half of the skin covering his face was peeling right off. The barbarian gave a slight smile at the gruesome sight and walked past that soldier but not before kicking his head in with his hind hoof causing his torn neck to completely get detached, his head rolled down the slightly tilted ship hitting the one of the chair legs.

There was a single door at the end of this dining room, the door was what the brute guessed was supposed to be decorative, he paced forward lightly pushing this still intact door open, it glided inwards as he was greeted with a water soaked bed, a collapsed shelf, and nothing else. He began walking in, kicking the door closed with his hind hoof when a sudden whimper emanated from the back of the room, he jolted forward unsheathing his war hammer and rotated around rapidly ready to take on whatever the foe may be. However, he wasn’t greeted by a rival, instead a soaked mare was curled up in the corner of the room, visibly shaking and whimpering. He put his war hammer back into its sheath and trudged over nealing down beside the mare, her pink mane flowed majestically along the wet floor, her shivering yellow body still resonated warmth.

He called out to the stallions above him, saying that he found something. He grabbed the mare roughly and threw her over his back and began walking out of the room. The others peered down the dining room, laughing in their barbaric way as they saw their compatriot carrying the warm yellow mare over his back. He only grunted at them as he walked past and made his way outside the ship, the larger stallion still on the top deck.

The brute threw the mare onto the rock floor of the island, right next to the ship, she spread curled up and was blinking repeatedly trying to get accustomed to the gloomy yet bright day. She was greeted with the sound of the ocean crashing against the rock a few hundred meters in front of her. She peered out into the wide open ocean, quickly realizing that she was no longer under the protection of her friends.

“Looks like you found a pretty little bitch din’tcha?” One of the stallions said while following the other one coming out of the ship.

The stallion who found her looked at the other one and said, “Oh look at her! She’s scared shitless,” He turned his gaze towards the mare, “Ya scared bitch?” She refused to look at him, she curled up tighter and whimpered quietly into her hoof. “Look at me when I talk to ya,” the stallion spoke, in a slightly raised voice. He paused for a few moments looking at the curled up ball of fur and mane in front of him and then he repeated his statement, “Look at me when I talk to ya!” He paced over to her and put his hoof on her shoulder pushing her onto her back as he looked right into her almost shut eyes. “Are you blind bitch?” He uttered angrily.

A small tear quickly glided down her cheek as she opened her eyes a little more, quivering at the sight of the scarred stallion. “I…” she began, “please… water,” is all she could utter before going back to lightly sobbing.
The stallion glanced at the two behind him, he signaled the pale brown one, a prominent scar being hidden by his leather covered chest, “You heard her, get some fuckin’ water Dragel.”

The stallion whom he just called Dragel muttered something and reached into his left satchel pulling out a canteen, he walked over to the mare and opened it, he took a sip of what must have been water before biting down on the side of it and beginning to pour it out next to her. She watched, still sobbing, as the water she needed was emptied onto the wet ground. Dragel made his way to the nearby ocean, just a few meters in front of her, and leaned down beginning to fill up his canteen with the salt water.

A few faint chuckles resonated from the other two as Dragel lifted his muzzle out of the water and made his way to the mare. “Open her mouth, Tolak” the stallion whom found her pushed her weak hooves aside as he placed one of his hooves on her chest and the other on her chin, he pushed downwards as she gasped and lightly kicked her body, yet unable to do anything past that. She cried out a little and seemed to try and say something, yet it came out as incomprehensible.

“Water, for the royal bitch.” Tolak said as Dragel shoved the canteen into her mouth, she tried to yell out but couldn’t as the salt water poured down her throat, the stallion behind them laughing as Dragel pushed it further into her mouth, she gagged and choked up some of the water before crying out once more lightly kicking her hooves against the rock floor.

“What are you fuckers doing down there?” A shout from atop the ship pierced their eardrums as they glanced up, Dragel removed the canteen from her mouth as she heaved heavily and kept choking and hacking, spitting up water and whatever remnants of food she had left in her body. The large stallion galloped down the stairs and briskly came over, without saying a word he grabbed Tolak by the hind hooves and backed up a few meters dragging him, then swung his body around before letting go making Tolak tumble a few meters on the hard rock before regaining his position and attempting to stand up.

“Gregor, I…” Dragel didn’t finish his sentence, the stallion named Gregor ran up threw a hard punch impacting Dragel’s muzzle, there was a loud crack emanating from Dragel as he collapsed onto the rock floor with crimson liquid flowing out of his mouth. The third stallion began unsheathing what seemed like a scimitar but Gregor shot him a glance and roared, “Go ahead! Give me a reason to geld you alive!”

The third stallion’s eyes widened as the Gregor’s unblinking eyes dug into his, he slowly moved backwards and put his half-unsheathed sword back into its place and stood still breathing heavily in fear.

Gregor glanced at the mare, she was weeping and still choking up a little salt water, and then made his way to the frightened stallion, “Now, run up and prepare a nice bed for our guest near my hut, like, a good, little, bitch.”

The stallion nodded and turned around and began galloping as fast as he could up the hill from where they came from. Gregor turned around and walked over to the mare, towering his enormous body over hers. “What’s your name foreigner?” He asked, speaking in a slightly calmer tone. The two other stallions watching from a far, one standing up holding a hoof to his shattered muzzle, and the other bending down staring at the mare.

“Fl-…” She gave a light cough and hid her face in her hoof.

“I’m going to take you up that there cliff,” Gregor began and pointed a hoof at where they arrived from, “You are going to get a nice warm sleep, and hopefully, the day after you’ll be sold for a good little mark, got it?”

The mare nodded opening her eye so she could see him from the corner of it. He leaned down and picked her up, a little bit more gently than the other stallion did, and placed her on his her laying down on her back, as he signaled the other two to follow him.

“What is your name?” He asked again, slightly softer. She rested her head against his upper back, her wet mane drooping over his shoulder, she whispered quietly, just loud enough so he could hear. “Fluttershy.”

Gregor paused for a bit, “That’s a really dumb name you have there, fluttershy.” He said while beginning his ascent up the Cliffside. “Those fuckin’ dogs will be after you tonight, and where we are sending you…” He paused for a moment, “you wouldn’t want their dirty pricks in your cunt. You’re sleepin’ with me tonight Fluttershy.”

Her breathing calmed a bit as she shut her eyes thinking thoughts of home, of her home in Equestria, of her old life, and of her friends. “Thank you.” She weakly responded, before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

The bear and the hummingbird

The emotionless ocean water coated the coastline, its taciturn seawater sliding slowly back and forth, not a whitecap in sight, as cool sand blows in the light breeze carelessly. The dead dew-gathered grass glistened in the disconsolate day, swaying away from the wind, almost bringing the sickly land to life.

The skyline furrowed its stormy brow, and exhaled a fetid breeze across the shadowed expanse of the leafless trees, the grey clouds shrouding the sun causing only a few beams of light to peak through for a few content moments before disappearing. A thick fog a mile away was slowly advancing towards the coastline, veiling anything behind it. The only sound echoing through the entire tract was the stomping of hooves and the clanking of metal on the shore, a fleet of forty five vessels mottled the dreary grey skyline, and the dark sapphire ocean. Small wooden boats peppered the coastline, several soldiers standing around each one, a spear in hoof, donning the royal colors of the Amethyst guard.

A lilac mare was standing a few hundred meters in front of the boats right where the sandy coastline meets the lifeless grass of the plain. Her ornate dark purple mane blew in the breeze as she stood proudly, her mauve eyes scanning the land, watching the thick fog gradually consume the dead, leafless trees. She wore a crown of gleaming gold, a shimmering amethyst star imbedded in the center giving off a faint glow. A cloak of the finest satin infused wool wafted gently as her mane did, its sides gilded with weightless gold from the finest mines in all of Equestria.

A dagger hung at her side a golden silk sheath that sparkled in even the darkest environments, several intricate tendril-like designs covered it. The hilt of the dagger darker than the night sky reflecting only a scant amount of light, it seemed to be both empty and full, a black shadow-like substance consumed the inside of the hilt churning around constantly. The pitch black hilt juxtaposed the golden sheath as the princess juxtaposed the gloomy grey land she was observing.

Rapid hoovesteps behind interrupted her focus, a rugged muscular stallion, with a yellow-beige coat stood behind her, his jade eyes stared at the back of her head as his golden mane flicked and danced with the wind. Unlike the soldiers hundreds of meters behind him, he donned no plate, no gold, and no mark of an Amethyst guard. He wore a dark brown padded vest, its sides slightly frayed and the leather cracked. In the center of his vest he had a stitched on purple star, resembling the fleet he was a part of. He approached her with speed, but slowed down briskly, he dropped down to his knees looking down at the colorless soil and spoke with a strong southern Equestrian accent, “Princess, we finished the count…”

The princess glanced down at him, ignoring his statement, “Which one of the commanders sent you here, navigator Burn?”

The stallion cocked his head, but still kept his eyes on the soil, “Commander Pavise Princess, he told me to…” She cut him off, “Commander Pavise of the Amethyst guard told you to come here and interrupt me?”

The stallions shook his head and shut his eyes and exhaled loudly, “It’s of dire importance Twi- Princess.”

She looked down at the handsome, flustered stallion with a firm unyielding look, “Get up Braeburn, what do you want?” She said resuming her scan of the rolling fog.

Braeburn scuffled up, looking ahead of his princess, avoiding even the slightest glance at her, “Princess, we have completed the count of the ships, we have endured some heavy casualties.” He said while giving a quick flinch at his own words.

The princess withheld a brewing sigh, “Casualties… how many ships?” She asked with a calmer yet strained tone. The air fell silent once more, the stallion seemingly at a loss for words, overcome by his uneasiness. He exhaled once more and glanced at the back of her head before responding, “Five, five ships.” He said bluntly.

She closed her eyes for a few moments, as if mourning the certain death of the hundreds of equines. “B-but,” He began once more stumbling over the first few words, “that’s not why commander Pavise told me to come, we have discovered that Viridian Sun is no longer with us… we… we have lost the vessel.”

This time the princess didn’t hesitate with a silence, she shot her head back staring directly into his eyes, “What?” she began, “How? It was in the center of the fleet!” She turned her body and tilted her head, an overwhelming worried expression shrouded her anger and fear.

“I-I don’t know princess.” Braeburn responded looking away from her gaze, “it’s just what we observed.” He softly stepped backwards.

“Where is the high General?” She asked coarsely. He stopped and gave a swift glance into her eyes, “He’s on the Aurora princess.”

She glanced out into the ship-infested ocean, she quickly set her eyes on the ship he mentioned and nodded at him. “When is he due for arrival?” She questioned.

“A sun from now Princess, after the witch.”

“Move his arrival up, I need to have a word with him.” She ordered, Braeburn gave a bow and started trotting off back to the coast. The princess opened her mouth as if she wanted to shout something at the now galloping stallion, but she only whispered, “And, she’s not a witch…”

A flash of a gleaming silver blade was the last sight for the stallion, a bloodcurdling shout was all he could let out before his head toppled to the floor, his body still standing and his open neck spraying dark red blood, darker than the southern wine being served for the spectators. A roar arose from the stands as hundreds of stallions and mares stood from their seats stomping their hooves on the stone ground cheering for the armored pony standing over the decapitated stallion. Dust enveloped the stadium repeatedly getting kicked up as another fighter was released to battle whoever won the previous fight.

A distinct metallic banging was heard, the warrior knew what that meant, a gate was being lifted, its heavy metallic barring requiring two stallions to elevate. The warrior turned around, the armor he was given beaten and scratched by the countless attacks it defended, however, it was not broken, it covered him head to hoof in heavy plated steel, not even his tail was shown. The warrior’s sword, on the other hand, was a custom piece, created from the finest ignited krotanium in all of the south, its blade swung at countless times, however, not a single scratch or dent was seen on its slick edge. Its hilt wrapped in leather multiple times, visible indents where the bite marks are, a few inches below the cross guard.

Without hesitation the fighter unsheathed the blade once more, his entirety being surrounded by floating dust, the shouts of the fans clouding whatever thoughts were coursing in his mind. The only tool he had at his disposal was his hearing, as he listened carefully to the sound of the gate being drawn. Three, four, five, numbers in his head signifying the amount of seconds that have passed since the gate started rising, the number needed was twelve, twelve seconds until another stallion was galloping into the cloud of dust with his broadsword drawn. Six, seven, eight, the warrior pressed down against the leather wrapped hilt of his sword harder, burying his teeth into it, his eyes darted around the stadium. The incomprehensible shouts of the rampant spectators never silenced. Nine… nine… was that ten? The warrior lost count, he began backing away turning briskly side to side observing the dust cloud trying to hear the unmistakable steel trot of a stallion. The fighter’s breathing increased, dust clogged up his throat but all he needed was control, he gulped, some saliva oozing down his dry throat as his eyes perused the floating dust in front of him.

The warrior’s eyes widened as the unmistakable hum of steel against steel pierced his eardrums, much closer than expected. He sprung his body to the right but it was too late, a heavy dull sword bashed against the side of his helmet sending his oddly small body sliding sideways, the sword once gripped in his teeth now skidding in the opposite direction. He simply did not have time to recuperate from the blow, whatever strategy, whatever plan he had before was knocked out of his mind. He glanced at the charging stallion with a body twice the warrior’s size, a massive broadsword gripped between his teeth. The warrior dived to his left right before the sword was brought down on his position, the heavy steel hit the ground bringing more dust to explode into the air obscuring vision further. The warrior charged at the last known position of his sword, his eyes skimming over the ground, THERE, his mind shouted as he leaned down picking up the blade mid-gallop.
He flung his body back around to greet the attacking stallion who just recovered from his failed attack and was now staring directly at the warrior. The stallion was armored, however, his neck was bare … that was the target.

The stallion galloped forth cocking his head up and bringing it down with a lethal overhead strike, both their swords met with an earth shattering metallic ring as the fans thunder in applause. Their swords still connecting as the bigger, stronger stallion pushes down against the warrior his sword sliding against the stallion’s blade until it reaches the tip, both their blades explode in a shower of sparks. The warrior jumps to the right making sure to tilt his head sideways evading the stallion’s heavier blade smacking back against the ground.

The stallion attempts to lift his head back up, but the warriors glinting sword pierces his neck its tip shooting out of the opposite side dripping crimson. The stallion pauses for a moment as the crowds deafening cheering gets drowned out by the blood rapidly filling his mouth. He gives out hoarse cough, blood coating the ground in front of him, his wide, bloodshot eyes examine the shorter, weaker armored warrior whose sword is dug into his attacker’s neck. The warrior’s emotionless steel mask indifferently looks into his opponents eyes before grabbing hold of the sword with his teeth once more vigorously ripping it out of the stallion’s neck severing the bottom of it completely as gore spills out under his collapsing body.

The warrior has little time to admire the kill, as his eyes broaden once more when a familiar sound of trotting penetrated his eardrums. This time, he thought, this time he’ll be ready… he twisted his body around meeting the much larger stallion head first, yet this one did not stop to swing his sword, instead he trampled the warrior knocking him on his back. The warrior’s sword once again flew out of his mouth, however, he retaliated quicker than lightning. He bucked his hind hooves at the stallion’s lower stomach while he was in mid-gallop causing him to fly forward flipping around and landing on his back shell-shocked.
The warrior sprung back up and quickly bit down against his sword, and started galloping towards the already standing stallion. Their blades met, the larger stallion quickly overpowering the warrior causing him to dodge to his right. The stallion swung his sword again yet the warrior skillfully parries it following up with a riposte, jabbing at the stallion’s chest. The stallion, quicker than the previous one sliced at the warriors jab causing the sword to fly out of his mouth once more, the warrior dashed to his lost sword picking it up and gripping it harder in his teeth.

The stallion let out a guttural grunt and swung again, an overhead strike with the power of a stampeding bull, however, the warrior was ready. His sword colliding against the other’s showering the warrior’s helmet with dancing sparks. With a sudden vigor the warrior jumped up, spreading his concealed wings, each feather armored with light-crafted steel, he beat his wings one time mid-air kicking up a storm of dust crashing it into the oncoming stallion.

The stallion’s open eyes became coated with dry dirt causing him to yell out in pain, opening his mouth and dropping his sword. Dust caked his throat as he toppled over coughing raspingly and covering his eyes with one of his armored hooves. The warrior, seeing his one opportunity to strike at the collapsed stallion. He plunged down to the ground, with his sword overhead slashing angrily at the stallion’s hoof-covered face. The sword cut from above the eye to below his chin smashing into the ground. Blood leaked out of his open wound as the stallion let out another horrific yell into the sky.

Part of his hoof rolled to the side, his face flushed with shock as he stared with his one functioning dust-coated eye at the dismembered half of his hoof, his stub spewing a dark cardinal liquid all over his stomach. The warrior raised up once more, peering into the eye of the blood-soaked stallion. The stallion knew his fate the second he toppled over, he tried to open his single eye before giving the warrior a nod of approval, telling him to finish what he started.

The onlookers were going wild, each one with either a happy or visceral look on their faces shouting for the warrior to tear the bleeding stallions neck open, to drink his blood, to execute him in the most entertaining way possible. Only the top few rows of stadium were visible, the rest were concealed by the cloud of dust, but from what the warrior saw, each spectator was cheering, their bloodlust about to be fulfilled. The stallion, who was now begging for a quick death was stained in his own blood.

The warrior glanced at the crowd once more, and then made his choice. He planted his hoof on the collapsed stallion’s chest, turning him over to his back, showing everyone his light brown stomach. The warrior swung the sword overhead and fiercely brought it down into the stallions lower chest, he yelled out, his eyes in utter shock looking into the warrior’s dark helmet. The warrior vigorously slashed his blade from lower chest to the stallion’s manhood and then ripped his blade out in a curtain of blood. The observers burst out into cheer watching the stallion gasp as he watched his organs spill out before his eye, pouring out onto the ground.

He died with his one eye open, his stomach spilt, and in a pool of his own blood. The warrior sheathed his blade, his torn up armor gleaming with the blood of his opponents as the dust of the arena began to settle. The rampant fans of the lower seats stood and stomped their hooves at the sight of the warrior standing next to the disemboweled stallion. The warrior took a few steps forward, to what appeared to be the center of the stadium as he looked around him.

The dust settled more, revealing that at the north of the stadium there was a golden throne dedicated to the king whose face was stricken with an unending grin of happiness. He turned to the stallion next to him, “I told you today was gonna be special, Rodrick.” The stern stallion next to him turned to meet the king’s gaze, he smirked and nodded.

The king returned his gaze to the warrior who was standing in the middle of the arena looking up at the king. The king’s grin spread wider as he stood up and raised a hoof high before lowering it signaling the cheering crowd to silence. He took a step forward before scanning the entire stadium smiling, there were a few lone cheers, either at their king or at the blood-covered warrior in front of them.
“Well well!” He began, his voice booming through the stadium, loud enough that even the pony in the highest row could hear him. “That! That is what I like to see on a beautiful day like today! Impressive!”

The crowd rose up and started roaring one more time, each one seemingly trying to stomp louder than the one next to them, even the privileged fillies who were taken to the fight by their parents were giddy with excitement at the kings next words.
“What is your name warrior?” The king bellowed down into the arena, his eyes bright and his smile wide.
The warrior stepped forward and gently kneeled down, his head lowered and peering at the ground below. He lifted a heavily armored hoof to his helmet, it was dented and scratched, whatever remnants of beauty it once had were long gone. The warrior began lifting his helmet off, before it was even half way, his hoof extended and he threw it off a few meters ahead of him. The crowd stopped cheering, their eyes agape, countless ponies covered their mouths with their hooves gasping. The king’s eyes widened as he leaned back and looked at the stallion he called Rodrick, “Well fuck me… it’s a mare.” He said, his mouth still slightly open.

“What’s your name Pegasus?” He called out, his voice a little more bewildered if not even more excited than before.
She stood up, and looked at the crowd all around her, then back at the king, staring right into his eyes.

“Dash!” She called out, her rainbow mane flowing in the light breeze, her sweaty matted fur seemed to glisten in the sunlight. She gave a quick smirk as the dust around her finished settling, three bodies of three stallions, each one larger than the next were scattered around the arena.

The king nodded and shouted, “Well, Dash! Appears you are victorious!” The entire stadium rose up for a third time, shouting and yelling out various words ranging from congratulatory remarks to rude insults towards the rainbow maned mare below.

The king sat back down on his thrown and leaned over Rodrick, “Take her away,” he said before resting his head on the cushioned dark golden throne.
Suddenly the gates began opening, each one loudly rising up. Dash looked around to both sides of her and then back at the king, looking at him in a perplexed manner. The ponies of the stadium still shouting and cheering. Two massive stallions entered the stadium, plated with ebony colored krotanium plated armor, each one walking slowly over to dash, their hooves thundered against the ground causing the crowd to cheer louder. Their helmets styled in the shape of skulls, dark silver horns jutting out of them. Each one had a steel baton in their mouths, their wolf-like sharpened teeth biting into the metallic handle.

Before Dash could react the stallion to her right swung the baton overhead and cracked down against her wing, she let out a scream of shock and anger before the one to the left did the same. She toppled over to the ground, her muzzle buried in the dust. Each stallion took hold of one of her fore hooves and began dragging her into the entrance of the now opening back gate.

“What the fuck is the meaning of this?” She shouted out repeatedly, kicking her hooves feebly against the ground, kicking up that same dust she used to defeat her opponents, “let me go!” She yelled at the king, kicking and struggling to break free of the iron grasp of the stallions. Her breathing increased as she let out another yell, the gate starting to close before her very eyes, the last image in her mind was the king’s smirk watching her being dragged away back to her cell, back to the cold, wet cell from where they captured her from, back to hell.

The fire flickered illuminating the center of the encampment, hundreds of camps spread along the coastline, each one with a din of noises emanating from them. Small campfires sprung around everywhere, leaving an invisible trail of smoke through the dark night sky, only a few destitute stars peppered it, even the moon was hardly visible, only a sliver of it floating like an ornament.

The largest hut in particular was exuding an immense amount of noise, it was filled with what had to be a hundred stallion, accompanied by a little more than fifty mares all of which were seated at four separate wooden tables. They were all either drinking or eating, sharing stories and laughing. Each one relieved they were on dry land and not the billowing sea.

Just outside of the massive hut, stood Princess Twilight the wind still blowing against her mane as she looked along the hundreds of tents that sprung up along the shore. She bore the expression of endless worry, of fatigue, of fear when no being was around her, when she could truly show how terrified she was.

“Princess!” She heard a call just behind her, she glanced back and saw her high general trotting up next to her, joining her in looking at the soldiers she commanded. “I heard you wanted to speak?” He asked, knowing the answer.

She nodded and began, a bit quietly, “Yes… I did. There’s…” She trailed off and looked down at dead grass. Her expression changed from worry, to sadness.

“My princess…” He began, “you don’t need to shroud your personality from me, I am not only your high general, I am the one you can rely on.” He said calmly. She looked up at him, and into his light blue eyes, and gave a gentle nod.

“I know, believe me, I know.” She replied giving a quiet sigh.

“Then what is the problem Twilight, my princess?” He asked.

“I…” She exhaled and tried again, “I can’t do this Turner, I just can’t. There are sev- six thousand soldiers out there, I’ve lost the one friend I had left… I don’t know what to do.” She said before shutting her eyes, as if she was holding back tears.

“Yes. You. Can.” He replied, “You can do this Twilight, we all know you can, we have soldiers down there praising your name, exclaiming how they would not trade their princess for anything in the world. They will give their life for you… that I know for certain.”

“I want to believe that, but I can’t. Ever since Celestia gave me these wings Equestria has been collapsing.”

“Not by your doing Twilight! She needed someone else, another pony she can rely on.”

“But why? I didn’t ask for any of this! If I was back in ponyville, in my library, with my books, and my friends. None of this would have happened.”

“Twilight… Princess…” He began before getting cut off.

“Don’t call me that, not when we are alone.” She replied briskly.

“Twilight, if you weren’t one of the princesses you wouldn’t HAVE your library anymore! You know damn well the toll Luna’s departure took on all the citizens!”

“Who do you think had the…. Had the fucking IDEA to even go to this forsaken place?” Twilight raised her voice and then paced herself, looking back down at the ground.

Her high commander just looked at her and nodded, “you did… you needed a way to save Equestria, you had no choice. Celestia…” He stopped himself and then began again, “not everyone has the privilege of being a unicorn Twilight, if you saw… if you really saw the situation the earth ponies were in outside the walls of Canterlot you would know that the decision you made was the right one.”

Twilight looked up at him once more and gave a weak half-smile, “Go now, get something in your stomach, we have a long day tomorrow.”

He nodded and began trotting off to the biggest and loudest of the tents, as the princess began looking out at the sky.

High general Turner was greeted with numerous stallions in an absurd drunken stupor, some trying to aggressively get with the equally drunk mares, while the others were sitting around telling jokes or trying to sleep on the hardwood table. Turner eyed for open seats, and noticed a nice seat at the end of the table to the very right, he trotted over avoiding the passed out ponies and the ones either messing around with the passed out ponies or the ones laughing at the ones messing around with the passed out ponies.

He took a seat and scanned his table, the stallions closest to him he knew fairly well, there was Lighthoof, the dark yellow one with a shining black mane, there was Lance Sky, the taller, handsome stallion, his coat was a light blue with a darker blue mane. Finally, sitting to his left, a completely hammered stallion, his mane was a dark orange frilly mess, his coat baige, he went by the name Marble Charge.

“Guess who?” Marble uttered, almost slurring those two simple words, the other two gave a light chuckle before Lighthoof spoke up, “finally detached from princess I’macunt?” The other two burst out laughing while Turner looked at them carefully admiring their foolishness. “Oh common,” Lighthoof began again, “we know why you’re doing it ya bastard.” Lance just smirked and took a sip of his beverage and nodded.

“Oh yeah?” Turner leaned in, “and why’s that you bunch of shitfaced pricks?” He said laughing at their idiocy.

Marble leaned in and began struggling to get the first few syllables of whatever he was trying to say out of his mouth, Lance hit the table with his hoof lightly shaking the mugs next to him, “can someone get Marble to stop speaking for the night? If I wanted to hear some grown ponies act like newborns I’d sit in at a Canterlot council meeting!” He leaned back and began laughing on his stool, the other two laughed along. Marble surely had no idea what Lance was talking about.

Turner chuckled as well and asked again, “Since Marble is going all ‘High council’ on us how about one of you assholes tells me?”

“Aren’t you part of the high council now too there pretty guy?” One of the ponies in front of them pitched in, as the rest laughed.

“Me?” Turner said sarcastically.

“Yeah! But you can’t fool us! No… no no no, you cannot!” Lighthoof said.

Lance nodded and slightly leaned over to Turner, “don’t kid us, we know you just want to get some of that royal ass.” He chuckled and hit his hoof playfully on Turner’s shoulder.

Turner cocked his head, but still said nothing. Lighthoof pitched in once more time, “You can’t honestly say you don’t want to hit that, I mean damn!” The three roared with laughter, “Yeah, I remember that bitch at her ‘hey look at me, I got wings n’ shit’ parade, I swear she was the most nervous little cunt I’ve ever seen!” Lance said looking at Turner who was smirking at them. “I swear,” Lance began once more, “the way she is now… If she carried some of that attitude into bed whoever the lucky bastard is that gets to shove his prick into her will be the happiest fucker alive!” Marble groaned in approval and lifted his head lightly off the wooden table, a string of saliva coming out of the corner of his mouth.

“Fuckin’ a Turner, you should come down here to the slums more often, and maybe you could sit through one of Marbles fucked up fantasies about her!” Lighthoof exclaimed.

“Maybe I will.” Turner finally replied signaling one of the mares to bring him a drink.

“There’s our friend!” Lance said laughing as he patted Turner on the back once more, “but really… you never… not once thought about tapping that purple ass?”

“Or wait!” Lighthoof hit the table, “maybe little Turner here already got some!” Lance and Lighthoof stared at Turner while Marble, who was now looking up at the ceiling uttered, “hi Turner…” Before almost collapsing backwards.

Turner shook his head, “no, that’s not why I do it.” He said leaning in, “have any of you ever heard the tale of the bear and the hummingbird?”

The two that still had control over their bodily functions leaned in curiously, both of them shaking their heads.

Turner nodded, “Well… would you like to hear it?” He asked.

“What is it? Some dumb fuckin’ fillies tale?” Lighthoof asked.

Turner chuckled and began, “There was once a hummingbird living in some woods, however, these woods weren’t like any ordinary woods you see around the world, they were dying. The trees didn’t bear fruit, even the grass was no longer green. All the animals in the kingdom went to go find another forest, one with better supply of food. But before they went, they assigned the hummingbird a mission, they told her that she needs to stay in this forest and see if it springs back to life again. The hummingbird had no choice… if she left they would not accept the hummingbird’s company, she’d be alone. She was left in this forest, with only the meanest of animals around her, the foxes, the hounds, and wolfs. So one hungry day the hummingbird gets trapped by a group of wild animals, they are preparing to feast on her, to devour her whole. However, a loud roar is heard behind them, a bear, quadruple any of the animals size runs in and saves the hummingbird. Instead of eating her, the bear saves her, in return, the hummingbird offers to fly over the forest and tell the bear where he can find the best food. The bear agrees, in return, he will protect her. So for days, the bear and the hummingbird search the forest, the bear protecting the hummingbird, and the hummingbird telling the bear where to climb, or where to dig. After the bear is full, and the hummingbird feels safe, the bear tells the hummingbird.

‘Miss Hummingbird, do you fancy to leave this forest and go search for a better one with me?’ The hummingbird replied, ‘Why of course mister bear! That sounds wonderful, you will protect me, and I will find you food.’ The bear asks one more question, ‘If you had to go somewhere, and disobey the animals that told you to stay here, where would you go?’ The hummingbird smiled, her beak open happily, ‘well I know a perfect place those animals will never look! Just south of here there is a wonderful place brimming with life and food!’ The hummingbird trusts the bear, so the bear agrees to go with her.

However, the bear wants the food for himself, the bear doesn’t care about the hummingbird, now that he knows the places location, he can take the animals he scared off with him, the bear… the bear is a carnivore.”

Turner leans slightly back, “The bear snaps the hummingbirds neck, he doesn’t even bother to eat her, he has what he needs.”

An eerie silence filled the room, as if the deafening sound of the drunken stallions was no longer present, the two looked at each other, Lighthoof burst out laughing at the story mentioning how the hummingbird is a dumb bitch for ever trusting a bear, while Lance stares quizzically at Turner.

“Why did you tell us this, Turner?” He asks.

Turner gets up from his seat and walks behind Lance and whispers, “because the only thing you’ll remember tomorrow is that high general turner came to visit you.” He smirked and began walking out of the dining room, Lance looked at him and began giving a slight smile and looking at the rest of the inebriated stallion near him.

Games ponies play

“Hmph… are you absolutely sure this is how you put this damned thing on?” The voice of the foreign mare echoed throughout the stone hallways, the dim light stone had torches of flickering fire making dancing shadows on the walls. Once someone would walk up the thin circular stairs they’d be greeted with yet another hallway, however, this one had elaborately decorated doors wherever the eye looks, the compartment of the royals, this stone hallway was deemed. the the largest door, at the very end of the somewhat dark hallway emanated those same sounds.

Inside, stood a mare, her mane a dark royal mauve that curls gently down her side, every part of her styled to perfection, no hair misplaced or tangled. Her smooth white coat bathed and washed every morning and night, her hooves cleaned by the finest workers in all of Esics. Along her body lay a silk spun by only the most experienced workers, its dark crimson shining in the sun beams coming through the open window of her lavish sleeping quarters. The golden pendant around her neck shimmered and flashed in the daylight, shaking side to side as one of the mares helped her tighten the gown she was putting on.

Another struggled gasp erupted from her mouth as the final knot was tied behind her, she peered calmly at her assistant who was nervous, her hooves slightly shaking as she patted down her empresses dress. As their eyes met the servant quickly looked away, almost silently apologizing for whatever she had done.

“You did wonderful Matilda, you will make a fantastic hoof.” The empress smiled at the calmed young mare who stood back up and bowed graciously. “No need to bow,” The empress lifted her hoof placing hit on the mare's cheek, “no matter the custom that you have grown used to out there,” She pointed out the window at the fast stretch of unending grassland, “we are different here, you bow to no one.”

The servant peered up at the cerulean eyes of her empress and gave a small smile, “T-thank you M…” she began, but got cut short.

“Rarity.” The empress corrected her.

“Thank you, Miss Rarity…” The servant trailed off and began scurrying away. Rarity gave a light chuckle and called out to the servant who was almost out of the room completely, “Oh and Matilda! Be a sweetheart and call in Gorin will you?” Rarity chimed.

She turned back around to the extravagant desk, full of mane products, perfumes, and materials to generally beautify any mare. She peered at the large mirror examining her image, almost unable to come up with an answer to whether she liked or disliked her appearance. She heard the sound of armored hoofsteps behind her, the same light amber stallion, with a short dark brown mane stood behind her, a scar running down across his right eye.

“M’lady.” He called out, she turned her head around and smiled warmly at him, “Come.” She replied while signaling him to step closer.

“Isn’t this just so much better than that confounded cold you dragged me into?" She asked, still smiling, "we are back in the south, in the most prospereous kingdom, why in the world would anyone like to live in those places anyway?"

"I suppose m'lady," pausing for a moment, "it had to be said." He added

She sighed and lightly nodded, "if you truly believe that then i thank you for bringing it to my attention." Rarity responded, lightly adjusting her eyelashes with a stylus and a healthy dose of her magic. An abrupt silence coated the room, but Gorin jolted forward once more and blinked a few times before sharing his news.

"We received a crow, from house Silvermane." He paused and awaited her response, she stopped coating her eyelids with light blue decorative powder, which sparkled whenever she blinked and opened her mouth for a moment before raising her head and looking at Gorin in the eye.

"What do those pathetic scoundrels need?" She asked, almost over-exaggerating her rudeness.

He reached down into his satchel and attempted to withdraw the small letter, stamped by house Silvermane, however, Rarity does it for him, using her magic to levitate it towards herself. She ripped off the seal and threw it off to the side, and spread the curled up letter, her face baring slight grin.

"Lets see..." she began, she mouthed a few of the words before speaking aloud.

The empire of Esics, we are sorry to inform you that our Lord.
Lord Ivan Silvermane of house Silvermane, sire of the north and conquerer
of the land, has passed away. His illness was quick fought, yet even our
most royal healers could not mend him. We extend our condolences, and the
title of Lord of house Silvermane will be inhereted by his eldest son, Baren
Silvermane. Praise mother earth, and praise the god of stone, ice, and
fire, may they take his soul to the realm of the Nevershred.

-Sincerly, house Silvermane

Empress Rarity stared at the letter, her smirk faded completely as she glanced at Gorin, who was giving her a slight nodded.

"Hmph" she said before gently placing the letter on the bed, "well that is quite unfortunate for them isn't it... isn't Baren that brat that started crying after the maid spilled the wine on his cheap Silvermane attire?" Rarity gave a light chuckle before returning her eyes to the mirror.

"Aye, M'lady." Gorin replied smiling, "would you like us to send them some sort of condolences? A basket of goods?" He asked.

Rarity shot a glance back at him, "why would i ever..." She began, "those forsaken ponies don't deserve a shred of pity." She responded coarsely.

"But, M'lady, we may want to start doing the art of trade with them, they may not be the most prosperous house but they have their fair share of minerals that we may come to needing."

"No, definitely not, i shall never! We are done discussing this Gorin."

" Your lust for revenge will be fulfilled M'lady, however you cannot wear it every morning, evening, and night." He stated before beginning to walk out of the room.

Rarity turned back around, "Wait Gorin." She spoke.

Gorin turned around, "Yes, M'lady?"

"How do i look?" She asked smiling running her hoof against her delicate curling mane.

Gorin stepped forward and admired his empress, the mare in front of him, exuding beauty from every pore of her body, "You are the most beautiful mare in all of the land, M'lady." He responded giving a light nod and a half-smile.

Rarity Turned back around peering at the mirror, "Why thank you Gorin, you always do have a way with words." She cooed, "It's a shame really, you being into those Stallions."

Gorin tilted his head and opened his mouth curiously, "e-excuse me, M'lady?" He asked giving a grin and taking a few steps forward.

"Oh please darling, don't be so transparent! Maybe you are the one who should not wear it every...morning, evening, and night" she gave a quiet laugh and and stepped away from the mirror.

"Are you proposing that i'm... into other stallions?" Gorin asks stepping closer to her. She turns around meeting his eyes and stepping closer to him, the light shining at the back of her head, almost making her entire body seemingly enveloped in an aura of light.

"Yes." She replied lightly leaning her face in closer to his, their muzzles only a few inches away from each other, both of them baring light grins.

"Oh yeah?" He asks teasingly.

"Yes." She responds again this time even closer.

"Good..." He begins, "If that's what i have to say for you to stop coming onto me." He responds before briskly turning around and making his way out of room. Rarity's mouth is open slightly her head tilted, and her eyes bewildered with his words ringing through her head. She steps back lightly, and begins laughing profusely at his statement, he turned around a little, laughing as well and gave a nod to her, his teeth glinting in the sunlight.

"Don't try me, darling," She responded playfully as she continued laughing. He gave her a joking salute and another nod before departing completely out of the room, leaving her alone and staring at herself in the mirror, her smile quickly fading. She looked at the doorway, and then out at bright morning sky through her window, she examined her decorative horseshoe, and then her dress. She walked over to the letter she placed on her wide, ornate, gold trimmed bed, she levitated it towards her, unrolling it once more and skimming through the words. Rolling it back up, she walked over to the window, the seemingly never ending ocean stretch in front of her, whitecaps dotting its sapphire skin. She cut her magic, letting the letter float out to the ocean, the breeze carrying it through the air. She looked back at the doorway, and then shut the window before departing.

Her gleaming blue mane blowing as bright as the fire of her heart, it's strands wisping in the non-existent wind, a haze of dark blue magic surrounding them, causing them to sparkle and glimmer wherever she was. She stood tall, taller than any of the stallions around her, her teal eyes furrowed and stern not a hint of fear around her. She donned a crown of midnight obsidian, the stone of death, reflecting not images but the shadows and lost souls. The dark blue coat she had was almost completely armored with black steel, the intricate chest plate containing a glinting white crescent moon. The length of her body decorated with streaks of steel forged by the finest captured smiths of Anvilmere.

Here flank plated by obsidian tendrils swirling around her crescent moon-shaped mark with which her entire kingdom identified her by. Levitating next to her was a pitch black blade, longer than any pony, wider than a tree trunk it's blade as her crown, reflected the oncoming death. In just seven years it has gained a name among the inhabitants of the land, Reaper, they called it, it's story spread far and wide. It not only killed the being, it tore their soul apart preventing any entrance to the afterlife. Responsible for the death of two kings and countless lords, everyone with a head on their shoulders feared this blade.

Walking only along side one other, her fearlessness was never lead by hubris, never overcome with carelessness or the craving for revenge. The emotions that drove her misunderstood by many, however, respected by all. Her enemies knew death is what they faced for crossing her, for angering the Queen of the Night.

The mare next to her, armored from head to hoof had the same unblinking expression, her coat a lighter blue, her mark a bright blue crescent with a star-tipped wand through it. The only part of her uncovered was her horn, of which was surrounded by obsidian tendrils, extending out and wrapping themselves around it. Sheathed on her back were two light obsidian short-swords, both blacker than ink.

Both of them came out onto a hill, it's edges contained large rock tusk-like statues, each one containing vines wrapped around it, with moss growing at the bottom. Around them was a view of the entire east coastline, the kingdom of Silvermane just barely visible, shrouded by the clouds.

At the center of this opening lay a stone rock, containing an indent which was stained red. The guard next to the queen shouted something out, three stallions emerged from below the hill, they were surrounding a cuffed stallion who donned a small golden crown, it's center mark was a wisp of silver flame. The stallions took him, and began leading him to the stone slab, the guard called out once more, and four other stallions emerged from below the hill, two of them were dragging along a grey stallion with a long light brown mane. The other pair of stallions were dragging along another, his mane shorter and of a lighter fade of brown, this one was not resisting, simply watching. One of the stallions, who wore a helm shaped like a crescent moon thrust the crowned stallion against the slab, placing his head in the indent.

The queen scanned the other two, each one cuffed and watching in horror as this lords head was placed on the slab, his body standing limply behind him, his eyes half open. The queen dropped the massive sword's blade on the ground, observing the two as they glanced at her slowly making her way towards the center, the blade dragging along heavily on the grass floor making a visible line. Her magic carried the hilt up until she reached the stone, then she raised it above her head once more.

"Lord Ivan Silvermane, you have violated your agreement!" She boomed, her voice echoing through the open, gloomy sky.

"STOP!" the resisting stallion yelled, he stood up limply with tears in his eyes staring at what had to be his father looking calmly at him. "Father!" He yelled out, "Stop this madness!" The son yelled out kicking his hooves against the grass.

"Silence yourself boy!" The lord bellowed at his son, exiting his calm demeanor for a moment, You will NOT taint the name of the silvermane!" The son's eyes widened as he fell to his knees, strings of tears pouring down his cheek as he examined his brother, who was standing silently, and emotionless staring at his very father's execution.

Her voice pierced the ears, sending shivers down the spines of all around her. The lord rested his head against the cold stone slab. "What be your final words, Silvermane?" She beckoned.

He looked up at the queen towering over him, Reaper levitating next to her, reflecting the dancing shadows of the dreary grey day. "You will get what's coming to you, mad queen..." He says almost in a whisper.

She raises her blade high, but gets interrupted by the weeping son, "What kind of queen performs her own executions!" He yells out, collapsing and looking down at the grass, his tears watering them.

The queen's guard steps forth, she lifted her black steel helmet from her head, revealing a light blue coat, with a lighter blue and almost milky white mane. She walked over placed her armored hoof on the stallion's chin, raising it making the stallion look directly into her lavender eyes, her gaze piercing his. "The kind who conquers your kingdom, rat." She states bluntly, before dropping his head back into the grass and beginning to walk back to her position.

""I..." the queen began, "Queen Luna, conqueror of the east, leader of the free kingdom, QUEEN OF THE NIGHT, sentence you, lord Ivan Silvermane... to death!" With a lethal downwards swing the black blade sliced through the lord's neck, his head toppling forward as his stump spewed crimson liquid across the grass. His decapitated head rolled over to his son's, one of them weeping and getting dragged away, looking at his fathers executed body getting pushed over by the guard, while the other brother just turns around and follows the other guards.

Crows flew around wildly, almost as if they signified the death of a lord. The queen turned around and began walking back from where she came, her high guard following her, their metal armor being the only thing penetrating the air. Silence, a kingdom has fallen.

The King, the Mare, and the Brothel

Get out of here, were the only words coursing through her mind, her rainbow mane matted and wet, sticking to her head. Her eyes glazed, half shut, staring almost lifelessly at the pitch darkness in front of her. The air thick and moist, almost a substance. Its entirety enveloping whatever poor soul was locked up in this dungeon, encasing them in heavy wetness that both burned and slowed the body, draining it of all its fluids. The stone floor damp with liquid, whether it was water was unknown.

Her fore hooves shackled by thick iron clamps, hanging off chains a meter or so above her. She sat on the floor with one of her hind hooves spread, and the other one slightly curled, pointing upwards, her body felt depleted of any of the left over energy she had after the battle. The images of the stallions she ruthlessly ended were flashing through her mind, the first one decapitated from a lethal swing of her blade, he attacked her first she thought, it was a necessary move. The second, stabbed through the neck, streams of blood spewed from him as he sputtered blood on her armor, it was his fault for not being quick enough she told herself. The last stallion, this one defeated by the hidden advantage of being a Pegasus. She cut his stomach open like a butcher would fillet a fish. His guts and gore gushing forth, coating the dusty ground. The look on his face, of shock, of terror... of brutal, undying pain of watching, with your one working eye, a warrior slice you open.

He asked... no, begged, for a mercy killing, to go out like a true warrior. She lowered her head, pondering why she did what she did, quickly realizing that it was for show. She needed to, she needed to impress the king, his guards, the hundreds of spectators. This was what she needed to do to live, for the king to let her free. No, that is not what happened, she's back in the dungeon, darkness enveloping her mind as it dwells inside this room.

A sudden creak of the door somewhere in front of her disrupted any ongoing thought encompassing her mind. A loud metallic clank bounced around the solid stone walls before settling. A sudden flash of light emerged a few meters in front, it blinded her completely causing her to look away shutting her eyes tightly. A black outline stood tall at the entrance, his body clearly padded with some sort of armor. Dash rattled her cuffs, trying lightly to tug on them before the door shut, an abrupt pitch blackness overcame the room once more, however, not for long.

A torch was lit at the dead center of the room, the face of the tall stallion being illuminated by the bright flame. He made his way to the right of the stone wall, placing the torch into what seemed to be a crevice. He hastily lit another, walking to the opposite side, placing the other torch down into the left crevice. The flames burning brighter than she's ever seen, her eyes taking more than a few moments to adjust. The entire room, lit, dimly, but lit.

As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a wooden bench just a few steps to the left of her chained up body. Her fore hooves hanging limply, the only thing keeping them up were the cuffs. She looked at the figure, his entirety much clearer now. It was that same stallion, the one who stood next to the king during the battle in the arena. A flash of anger coursed through her body, but she steadied herself and looked down at the now visible ground. He had greyish-white coat, his black mane combed back, making his entire face visible. It wasn't scarred or beaten, not a hint of strife in his eyes. He wore an ornate leather vest, a pin on the right side of his chest glimmered. It was a hoof, a lightning bolt going through it, made from delicate white gold. He sat down on the bench, and slowly turned his head to observe the cyan mare in front of him, weak, deprived, and hungry.

"I am Rodrick Ordarion, of House Lazirus. I am the king's hoof." He stated, bluntly, while looking at the back of Dash's mane. She raised her head slightly, turning it to her right observing the stallion seated next to her.

"Is that..." She croaked, she stopped herself and swallowed whatever saliva she had left in her mouth, "is that where I am?" she asked.

Rodrick nodded, "Yes" he replied shifting on his uncomfortably rock seat. "House Lazirus," he began, "the house of the god of thunder." She peered up at him wearing a slightly confused expression.

"We follow him." He added, as she gave a brisk nod and turned her head back down to the stone floor. Her hair dripped onto the ground, making the only noise emanating through the entire room. Rodrick leaned back and sighed, his eyes facing the closed doorway.

"What are you doing here, foreigner?" He asked, eyeing her once more.

She didn't respond, looking at the wet ridged surface of the floor. He asked again, "Why are you here?"

"I'm not a foreigner." She responded, her voice cracking as she exhaled and gave a coarse cough. Rodrick gave a light chuckle, "Clearly, you are." He responded, almost jokingly.

"What makes you say that?" She peered at him, eyeing his body, trying to see if he was armed.

"Either all you outlanders are dumb bitches, or you are just a special case." He responded, giving the back of her head a light tap. She jolted forward and strained herself against her cuffs, rattling them as he gave a smirk. "You... ponies, all of you are so... colorful."

Her rainbow mane stuck to her face, almost completely covering her eyes. She flicked her head sideways, trying to move it out of her face so she could see better. He leaned down, placing his hoof on her face and moving it out of her eyes. "There" he said, giving a minor smile. She closed her eyes and leaned against the walls, staring at the flames.

"What do you want?" she said, not even giving him a glance.

"You foreign mares never live long..." he said, his voice trailing off.

"Try seven years." She said, turning her head, looking and examining him.

"Ahh, yes, you were with the fleet all that time ago, what happened?" He asked, a genuine curiosity in his voice. His hoof reaching down and lightly stroked her mane.

"Why does it matter?" She replied pushing her head away. She tugged at her cuffs again, the bolted in chains dripping water, flakes of rust from them drifted to the floor.

"Now now... no reason to be hostile. I've heard, tales upon tales of you foreigners, some say you came here to start a war... others say the foreigners came to make peace, for what? I'm still not sure." He exhales heavily, awaiting a response. Dash just stared, bluntly, unemotionally, at the floor. The silence filled the room, the flames crackled and popped quietly.

"There's this one..." he started speaking, his hoof placed at the back of her head," her story spread across the land like wildfire. Have you heard it?"

"I have. No. Idea. Who you are talking about." Dash responded, trying to move her head away from his hoof.

"Ahh... well I thought you would!" He exclaimed, "after all, rumors say she came on your ship!"

"You believe in rumors, no wonder you are just the kings hoof." She replied, shocking Rodrick.

"The king’s hoof is a very honorable position in house Lazirus, you shouldn't show disrespect." He answered, almost slightly feebly.

"Go fuck yourself you pathetic prick." She uttered, just loud enough that he heard every stinging word.

"Watch your tongue bitch, before I cut it out and make you swallow it." He gazed down at her, giving a light smirk at the chained mare.

"What the fuck do you want?" she blurted out once more.

"This mare, from the story, she came on your fleet, captured the moment she set her hooves on the ground. Snatched up, right away by the Order of the Dragon. Those miserable fuckers... if we took her, we would have treated her well."

"Like you treat me?" She snapped.

"With respect, and dignity," he continued, ignoring her comment, " Not like those Ysellian's, I’m telling you, they may worship whatever-the-fuck dragons pop out of their heads, but when it comes to treating a pony, they are brutes."

Dash tugged at her chains once more, and peered up at him, his eyes were on the flames to the left. "What did they do?" she asked, a transparent tone of how little she cared showing visibly.

"Well, tale has it that they locked her up in a cellar hundreds of meters beneath the ground, starving, sick, and weak, she somehow convinced the guards that she was not a foreigner, but in fact that she was a resident of a small island off the southern coast." He chuckles under his breath, "well, next thing she knows she's being dragged in front of the king. But the king... that dumb bastard falls for anything. He buys her little story, apologizing like the gracious cunt he his." He flicked his hoof, "Next thing you know, they are fucking each other’s brains out like a bunch of yearlings.

"So, neither of them were seen for the next few days, and when they finally came out, the king remembering that he has a kingdom to rule, walked out onto the terrace of his enormous palace to meet his followers with his new mare. Silence, complete and utter silence. Almost as if time stopped, the entirety of the kingdom, their mouths agape at what they called the most beautiful mare they have ever seen."

He paused for a moment, Dash still looking, unblinking, at the floor below her. Yet her ears more open than ever, as she was invisibly eager to hear more.

"Twelve days later she announced she was pregnant, but, here's the interesting bit, the king, as all the medics in his kingdom have told him, is unable to produce children. But before their very eyes, ten months later, she started giving birth." He leans back sighing lightly, "The sterile king just produced his child. But rumors had it he was taking the Essence of Polin, so the foal came out deformed, ugly, the king could not bear to have him present. Right in front of this mare, he slit the babies throat.”

Dash clamped down at her tongue, resisting the urge to speak as he continued. "Not killed, but exiled from the kingdom, getting thrown out like a used up ragdoll. Only a couple hundred loyal followers stayed at her side, one in particular she took a liking too. With him, for years they searched and gained more followers, the story is she didn't leave one town, village, even brothel un-approached by the saying 'You bow to no one.'."

"Isn't that the line of the Free Kingdom?" Dash asked quietly.

"No," he turned his head back to her, "they are a much different story... but anyway, after what had to be three years of searching the south, she went to a trade city by the name of Vallake. There she finally showed her gift of trade, to this day it remains a mystery on how she bought forty thousand armed soldiers, some even trained in Velerus." he exclaimed. "It's unimaginable, her beauty, and mind is something worth fighting for."

"Is she still alive?"

"Is she still alive?" He repeats, slightly taken back before giving a brief chuckle, "have you heard of Esics? The richest kingdom in all of the land." He says, his voice raising. "Is she still alive... she's their empress."

Dash sighed, scanning her eyes across her tightly bound hooves. "Why are you telling me this?" She asked.

"They say, she has not slept with a stallion since the king tore open her foal's neck." He responds, ignoring her question again. "That's my dream..." His voice trails off.

"Your dream is to become the hoof of foreigner pony?" Dash replied insultingly.

"No, my dream is to find her, and fuck the living shit out of her before I slit her throat like the foreigner dog she is." He stood up from his bench, before kneeling down next to her and lifting her head so their eyes meet. "What about you?"

"What?"

He leans closer to her, sniffing around her neck and whispers into her ear dryly, "have you ever seen a real stallion, let alone been fucked by one?" The pace of his breath increases, his eyes darting all over her, hungry with lust.

She looks up at him, directly into his eyes, "No, but when I do i'll send him over so you can take notes." She snapped back through her gritted teeth. Rodrick's eyes widened as he stepped back slightly, only after a few brief moments of shock, his expression changed to anger.

He vigorously cocked his hoof back, throwing blow after blow at her right cheek letting out grunts of anger. After four consecutive shots he stared her, her face turned sideways, a slow stream of blood leaking out of her mouth. A cough broke the silence, then another, and then another. She spat down to the floor as she looked at him again, the same expression on her face, "maybe he could teach you how to punch too." she uttered.

She saw it coming, but was still caught off guard, a fist as hard as rock smashed into her stomach like a rogue freight train. Letting out a guttural groan she coughed up more blood, gasping for air, yet the oxygen eluded her grasp. She sputtered, heaving heavily as she felt her organs shifted upwards.

He didn't give her time to breath, with a single swift motion he sprang at her crippled being raising her against the wall with his hoof to her neck. He pressed his muzzle onto her hers, looking angrily at her. "I could fuck you right now, and no one would ever know." he said through his teeth.

"They'd know..." is all she could sputter, throwing a few specks of blood onto his face.

"Why? Are ya loud?"

"Fuck. You." She uttered, her eyes half open.

His smirk didn't fade this time, it only widened as he was bloodshot with rage and lust. "Let’s find out." He blurted out, without pausing he thrust her lower and hit her face against the stone wall turning her body so her back hooves were standing, flank facing outwards.

"Get the fuck off me..." she voiced, her voice slightly trembling. He threw his hoof at her rib cage, it bashed into her a few cracks shattering the rooms peace. She let out a shriek of pain and writhed against her chains as she felt razor sharp edges of her cracked rib cage dig into her organs. "Get the FUCK off me she howled, her voice echoing throughout the cellar. He wrapped his hoof around her chest crushing her splintered rib cage more. Through her agonizing shrieks blood rushed out of her mouth splattering against the wall.

She recoiled her right hind hoof back, before straitening completely as hard as she could bucking anything behind her, she felt it impact something hard, the angry grunts of the stallion perched up on her back, his body pressing against her's, went silent. She felt a few warm squirts of liquid spray against her hoof as she turned her head behind her. Rodrick let go of her chest, placing his fore hooves on the wall, his eyes bloodshot and wide as can be. She looked down, a bloody stump where his stallion-hood should be spurted dark crimson all over the floor. His breathing was quick as he plainly looked into her eyes, another silence enveloped the room.

He straightened his fore hooves, the ones against the wall, and fell to the ground. Those split seconds while he was falling, the silence felt quieter than a graveyard... his mutilated member laying peacefully at rest a meter or two from her, covered in a dark layer of blood.

The second he hit the floor, the silence was destroyed, a blood curdling wail erupted from his mouth, veins jutting out visibly through his thin coat. His back arching forward as he hit his hoof repeatedly against the ground, his horrifying scream seemingly unending. She just stared at him, his entire body in sight as he kicked and yelled, not able to pronounce a single word through his harrowing pain. The sound tore through the light and back again on to the point where it began, it was angry and filled with fear and rancor towards the mare before his eyes. Her gaze was only interrupted by the thunderous banging at the door.

"What the fuck is going on in there?" A vehement shout emanating from behind the door, but not for long. It flew open colliding with the wall causing dust and small rocks to pour from the ceiling. Two heavily armored guards ran in and picked up Rodrick by his fore hooves. His screeching didn't stop, a trail of cardinal fluid followed from below him as they dragged his kicking and writhing body away. Just as quick as it opened, one of the guards slammed the door closed causing the right torches flame to extinguish.

With a single light brightening the room, she lowered her body, and gently sat down in the position she was in before, groaning in intense pain. She thought about letting her eyes pour, but stopped herself, she looked at the only barely visible door, the screams of the stallion no longer heard.

"Fuck you! No longer a REAL fucking stallion are ya? She screamed at the door, before leaning her head back and panting, every breath drawing blood up her throat and a torturous flinch of pain. She let out another shriek, this time in anger, in weakness, yelling as loud as she could onto the floor trying to restrain the tears building up at her eyes. She exploded with another one, and another, and another, gritting her teeth and yelling. She felt her heartbeat at her temple, as her muzzle leaked a string of blood.

"Fuck you..." She mouthed one last time, and stared blankly at the door, the images of what just happened running through her mind, clouding her judgment.

Fluttershy lay on a crimson blanket to the very right of the room, the tent she was in was much larger inside than what it looked on the outside. The residence of Gregor Bloodfury, the Juht of the Clan of Chaos, more barbarian than civilized, more nomadic than settled, more beast than stallion. He lay on the other side of her, staring blankly at the drawings painted on the inside of the tent. Between them, three load-bearing wooden bars, some tribal decor, and a single dwindling fire. The neutral coloring of the walls caused the flame to reflect dancing shadows on them.

"You need sleep," his rough voice echoing throughout the tent. Fluttershy simply covered her face with her hooves, and whimpered lightly, the reply he was waiting for was surely not coming. He turned his head to her, "You need sleep," he spoke up, making sure she could hear him. A quiet squeak came from her corner, he glanced over, looking at the balled up pile of fur to his left. He briskly stood up and made his way over to her, towering over her looking directly at her hoof-covered eyes.

"You are not going to survive." He stated, his expression stern. Fluttershy balled up tighter, trying to avoid his gaze. "Listen," he began, "I'm not here to rape you, to kill you, I’m here to sell you." He stood for a few more moments, awaiting a response. Nothing. "Do you want to survive?" He asked her, his brow furrowing, an expression of annoyance starting to spread across his face. Fluttershy nodded lightly before putting her second hoof over her eyes, as if one wasn't enough. "Then let me tell you, out there, once the sun rises. If you do not keep your eyes open, your lips closed, at whatever you might see, I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I know..." A voice, high pitched, soft, and full of fear spoke.

"Good, now sleep." He responded.

The morning sun dawned over Wyverncliff, its beams cascading across the barbarian encampment, almost making the place seem warm, comforting, and peaceful. Gregor stepped out of his tent, scanning the outside, eyeing every single stallion and mare bustling around and shouting. He signaled Fluttershy, who was standing frightened behind him, to step forward. His plated leather armor glinted in the sunlight, its cracked skin beaten and worn in the countless fights it has seen.

As they walked, many of the inhabitants eyed Fluttershy, staring at her petite physique. Her head was constantly staring at the ground, trying her best to avoid the gaze of the hundreds they were walking past. Gregor was walking at a steady pace a few steps in front of her, his demeanor stern and angry. A few of the onlookers called out, yelling harsh words at Fluttershy, half of which she did not even understand. Each one still piercing her soft skin like a spear, making her leak tears instead of blood. Gregor has done this countless times, finding a slave mare, one he could sell for a few marks. It was the Juht's job after all, to provide his population with what they needed. Growing up in the Clan of Chaos, they needed two things, Food, and weapons.

As they arrived at the southern edge of Wyverncliff, Gregor scanned the lush green fields of grass that lay before him. His eyes slowly moving from left to right trying to find the oncoming merchant. The sun covered half the land in a blanket of light, so bright that no ponies eyes could stand to look at it. However, the other half was perfectly lit, a remarkable vibrant color emanating from every section of land. The ripe verdant grass, the monochrome sapphire ocean, even the soil, had a certain beauty, a certain effervescence that made it seem peaceful. Shrouding the unimaginable amount of blood the land drank under all this beauty. Gregor stood tall, his brow furrowed, his eyes unwavering, set on making this deal. His hooves planted firmly into the ground, the cowering yellow mare behind him looked feebly at the allure in front of her eyes neglecting to even glance at the frightening war-scarred stallion.

His eyes locked onto the approaching chariot, its body made up almost of complete pure gold. Surrounded by eight soldiers, donning gilded krotanium chest pieces, sat the merchant. He wore a noblemen's outfit, a finely embroidered tunic, trimmed with gold. His heavily product infused hair stood still, its pale blue ocean-like waves extending backwards. Unlike his mane, his small twirled mustache blew in the wind as his chariot, getting pulled by two of his guards, moved towards Gregor's position. Stopping a few meters in front of Gregor, the golden chariot let out a slight screech as its jewel encrusted wheels stopped.

The merchant signaled one of the guards, and got out of the chariot. His eyes, a mesmerizing azure, as he proceeded to make his way to Gregor, whom was clearly unimpressed. With a light grin, the merchant stopped, and eyed the one mare standing gingerly behind Gregor.

"Gregor!" The merchant exclaimed, "How's barbarian life? Murderous, frightening, filled with death, blood, and rape I assume?" He said sarcastically not expecting a response. "Is this who you brought? Well, she is clearly not the usual filthy bitch you drag me out here to gaze at. Impressive," he looked at Gregor quizzically, "now have you just gotten lucky... or have you finally started sifting the gold from the dirt?"

"We found her on a beached ship, by the tendrils." Gregor responded coarsely, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

"Ahh well then... isn't she just precious? “He signaled Fluttershy to stand, "Your compatriots haven’t raped her yet have they?" He asked.

"No... She’s clean."

"I would think! If they would have, she would be dead by now! Anyway, I’ll give you five hundred marks for her Gregor, that's more than twice what I give you for the usual filth you bring me."

"Watch your tongue, or you may not leave with it." Gregor snapped back at the merchant, his stare penetrating the white-coated merchants.

"Always the cynic aren't you Gregor? Now, where are you from sweetheart?" He asked Fluttershy, who was now on her hooves, looking down at the floor pawing at it softly. She paused once she heard the question, and shut her eyes. The merchant smirked, "Isaac!" he yelled back, and one of the guards stepped forward.

"Yes, M'lord?"

"Where are you from?"

"Redgate, M'lord."

"Aha! Fantastic!" He looked back at Fluttershy, "See? Nothing to be afraid of, where are you from?" He asked once more. She looked away, letting out a high pitched squeak before responding.

"Equ-Equestria."

The merchant's grin faded, as he looked at her, and then at Gregor. "I-i... let me introduce myself," He began, "I am Franz Willard, one of the few lords of Esics, the richest kingdom in all of the land!" He exclaimed, regaining his composure. He looked back at Fluttershy, "So five hundred marks yes?"

With a slight nod to one of the guards behind him, he reached into his tunic, pulling out a single coin. Its color was changing as he moved it around on his hoof, first pitch black, then bright orange, yellow, green, blue. "This is the coin of Atremidius, also known as the god of trade. I give it to everyone whom I make a bargain with, as a token of my gratitude." He told Fluttershy, before flicking it over to Gregor who just peered down at it. "I'm willing to bet that Gregor here, keeps all of them since we are such good friends." Franz told Fluttershy jokingly.

"Each one sharp enough to slit a prick stallion's throat." Gregor replied bluntly, before stomping his hoof down onto the ground crushing the coin.

Franz nodded, "I see... well anyway! Come on Fluttershy, let’s go." He motioned, and turned around beginning to walk over to the chariot. Gregor's stern expression curved slightly up, his mouth revealing a slight smirk as he stepped forward.

"Ten thousand!" He called out to Franz.

"Excuse me?" Franz stopped and turned around.

"You will give me ten thousand marks for her, no less." Gregor said, more commanding than asking.

Franz did a double-take before responding, "Has the sun finally gotten to you, Gregor?"

Without hesitation or warning, Gregor rushed over to Franz, almost knocking him over and leaning in, "She didn't say her name did she?" He roared through gritted teeth, sending chills down Franz's spine. Just as quickly as he approached, Gregor turned back around and began walking away, pushing her back with a hoof telling her to follow him. Franz, in shock, hesitated for a moment, staring at the stallion walking away.

"Fine!" He called out, "Ten thousand! I'll need time!"

"You have five moons!" He yelled back at Franz before stopping, and turning back around completely, "If you are not here by then, don't bother searching for her." He said, his tone threatening and as brusque as sandpaper. Franz didn't respond, he only looked grimly at the now trotting away barbarian.

"She's valuable cargo!" He yelled at Gregor, who just disappeared into the cluster of huts and bustling tribesponies.

As quick as ever, he galloped back to his chariot, the guard opening the door for him. "Take me back, now!" He commanded the stallion he called Isaac.

"Yes, M'lord" Isaac responded.

"Don't call me that." Franz shot back, "I've been called many names, Franz, Fancy pants, but lord... that will never sit right with me. Now let’s go, the empress would want to hear about this."

The heavy door creaked open once more, shining blinding light through it. Dash shielded her eyes as much as she could, her body still bruised and beaten. The unbearable stench of already decomposing flesh filled the room, its air already thick and moist. Spending... however many days had past, in this cellar was something she never thought she could endure. The constant pain, coursing through her body, getting strung up on chains, the fur on her hooves shredded off where the iron clamps lay. Her shattered rib cage caused splinters of bone to impale themselves into her organs, she coughed up blood often, every time with a deafening cry as the agonizing pain shot through her body causing her to spasm uncontrollably. Her sweaty coat, mixed with her own blood and Rodrick's, was unkempt. Its wholeness being stained, smelling of bile and gore.

"Kill me... do it..." She croaked, her breathing staggered and short. The blood around her mouth dry, and her cheek swollen with infection.

A guard entered the room, donning pitch black armor, "The king requires your presence, unshackle her." The guard said, another one stepped into the room from behind him. He walked over to Dash's body, it's being fetid. He slowly unclasped the first chain, letting her right hoof dangle loosely, and then the second one. Her body collapsed onto the floor, she shrieked in excruciating pain, letting out whimpers every time she coughed. Her voice had gone twice over, only wheezing and coughing noises came out of her raw, dry, and scratched throat. The guards picked her up by her forehooves, dragging her limp body out the door, shutting it in front of her.

Her entirety was drained, almost as if every single feeling and emotion was ripped out of her body, leaving only the torturous pain that seemed to deteriorate her body from the inside. Her vision was blurry, nothing was clear, wherever she was going, to see this king who locked her up in this hellhole... she knew one thing. She was going to slit his throat.

The Spark That Lights the Flame

“Farewell, Princess!” High General Turner called out before proceeding to trot to his tent, its mass resting a few hundred meters below the Princess’s. The charcoal sky glimmered with bright stars, which showered the sky in a cascade, a beautiful curtain of glimmering silver stars that made any ponies eye's shimmer and sparkle. Princess Twilight donned her plum colored silk robes, the corners trimmed with an intricately designed golden pattern.

She overlooked her armament, the entire coast decorated with the colors of the amethyst guard, each tent, banner, and piece of clothing embroidered with the Star of Twilight. The once bright flames near the encampment now just flickering charcoal casting dancing shadows of the north-waving banner placed at the dead center of the coast. The previously packed dining tent now quieter than a ripe leaf twirling in the wind. Only a few drunken soldiers toppled out of it, but even they barely made any audible sounds.

She exhaled, her eyes moving along her 6,000 troops, each one at one point bowed to an officer's blade swearing the warrior's vow, to protect and serve his queen until his dying breath. Their hearts sworn in, their bodies willing to be commanded, their entire being at her service. If only she could convince herself of that. She turned back around and entered her tent, its grandeur built in a remarkable amount of time.

The inside of her pavilion even more decorative than the outside, almost all of it was stitched with the finest lavender silk, light gold used to speckle the cloth making it glimmer and shine. The dim lighting only enhancing the effect of of the gold dotted fabric. Only a few high lamps were placed around her sleeping quarters, a wooden desk taking up most of the room, its top covered with that same badly drawn map. A few chimes hung low, their being still, no breeze or whisper entered her silent abode. For once she felt safe, the thoughts of betrayal, worry, even lust stopping their voracious billowing through her mind as she got ready for bed. Nothing but peace and... silence?

A sudden movement behind her causing the chimes to ring, their high pitched clanks piercing the peaceful air, tearing it to shreds. Twilight's mind flushed with the thoughts she was so eager to dump, her eyes widened as she sprang up unto her hooves and made her way to the center of the room. Her eyes darted around, examining the darkest corners, only now did she realize how dark her pavilion really was, perfect for anyone hiding seeking to slit her throat as she slept. Red vines creeped up her sclera as her unblinking eyes darted around the room.

Another rush behind her made her jolt forward and call out a little, she examined every little detail she could, trying to see who was in her pavilion.

"Who's there?" She called out, her voice audibly shaking. Her breathing sped up as the last thing she wanted to happen was for her to be flanked.

A flash of silver caught her off guard, she stood still looking at the dim-light lantern in front of her as a silver blade was pressed to her neck. Whoever was behind her sneaked past the guards, and somehow made his way into her living quarters. She exhaled carefully, trying to move her neck as far away from the blade as she could, her eyes no longer darting, just slowly lowering to the sharpened steel at her collar.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice stricken with fear and instability, "what do you want? I-i have bits... as many as you want, I’ll give it!" She pleaded shutting her eyes and biting her lip.

"Your bits are useless... Twilight." The voice behind her replied, deep, raspy, almost penetrating.

"Then what?" She pleaded. The being behind her exhaled on her neck and lightly loosened the blade that was against her throat.

"I'm looking for you..." He hissed

"Assassinating... murdering a princess is something that the six thousand out there are sure not to take kindly too," Twilight said, her voice trembling.

A faint chuckle was heard behind her, "Who said I’m here to assassinate you Twi?" He began, "I'd think you would have missed me."

"Who are you? Why are you here?" She asked once more.

Suddenly, the steel blade lowered completely, "I heard a certain pony princess needed a baby dragon." The voice replied teasingly.

Twilight gasped as she rapidly turned around, "SPIKE!" she called excitedly, "How a-...." Her voice trailed off as she stared at the creature in front of her. The creature glanced into her eyes, its verdant reptilian eyes staring at her. It abruptly arose, donning a thick cloak, trimmed with silver wool and stepping forward towards her. His purple, scaly skin reflected the lanterns light, as his eyes continued the stare.

Standing on two legs, it resembled a humanoid stature. The entire body of this creature was coated with jewels, some on necklaces, others embedded directly into his breastplate. His entire upper chest sparkled and shined casting an array of various colors all around the room. In one claw it held a spear, as tall as him, standing two stallions in height its length an intricately decorated wood, while the blade it's was a stunning mix of obsidian from the free kingdom, and krotanium. It stood proudly, glaring into twilight's shocked expression. Two long fangs stuck out of the corners of his mouth, one longer than the other, a slight grin separating the two even further.

"What... happened to you?" She exclaimed, softly stepping backwards.

"Seven years in this land is what happened Twi," He began, but not before thrusting his spear into the ground, “and now you are here too."

"How..." she stared at his body, "What are you?"

He ran his long claws along the one of the scattered wooden chairs, "I'm a Dragonkin, Twilight." He responded in a lower tone, he blinked his reptilian eyes at her and then gazed around the room.

She stepped back once more, "What?" She asked bewildered.

He gave a light chuckle, his forked tongue flicking out of his mouth for a split second. He stepped forward to her, and bent down, his heavily armored legs scrapping against each other, "You have so much to learn about this place twilight..."

"L-like what?" She asked, a little more self-assured.

He briskly stood back up, towering over her minuscule body, "that is not why I’m here," he started pacing to the right of the room, over to the wooden table, " I may be dragonkin now, but it doesn't mean I don't cough up the odd letter from the royal sunny ass." He gave a brief snicker before reaching behind his cloak pulling out a vanilla colored scroll holding it out to Twilight. "Read." he states bluntly.

She levitates the letter and places it on the table, "Listen spike... I..." She began before being cut off.

"No Twilight, I needed to go." He rapidly walked up to her, his heavy armor thumping against the ground as she turned her gaze away from him, realizing now what her small dragon has become. "You need to find the rest of the gang, and get. The hell. out . Of here." He paused before adding, "Got it?"

Twilight looked up at him, "They are alive?"

"You need to get off this rock Twilight, there's a war coming and you need to get out of here before it does. They will not stop after they conquer this rock."

"Who?" she asked feebly.

"Everyone!" he raised his voice, "The world is a game to them, the second they set sail to Equestria for Celestia's throne it will be the end for us!" He thundered over to his spear, ripping it out of the ground and making his way out of the tent.

"Spike!" She called out.

The dragonkin turned around, glancing one last time at her, "Whatever you may see, whatever you may hear... remember where you're from." He coarsely replied before turning back around and tearing the pavilion's entrance open, enormous pitch black wings spread from underneath his cloak. He stepped out of the tent, all she heard was a single beat of a pair of wings before it was silent once more, the chimes stiller than the sapphire ocean.

Twilight stepped back, still processing whatever just occurred, she glanced to the table, the letter sprawled out on it. She made her way to it, her breathing still heavy and her mind racing, trying to comprehend everything she was told. Her horn faintly glowed and lifted the letter before her eyes.

Dear Princess Twilight sparkle

I write this to you just moments before our ships of eight hundred thousand
of our finest soldiers depart, what you have done is deeply frightening my student.
You are not prepared for the hardships that face you out on that continent. But I
cannot change the past, only alter the future with my next actions. I am not leaving
my kingdom for the sake of four friends, there are much larger figures at play here.
A princess must know when to hold onto something, power, respect, a kingdom, and
when to let something go. You are truly lost.

Regards, Princess Celestia of Equestria