The Compendium of Darkness

by Craine

Rating: teen
Tags: Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Spike
Length: 2445

In which Craine pillages and rapes everything we've ever loved about these talking horses, and pisses on the tombstone marked 'Happy-ending'.

A compendium of short stories (500+ words) about things Hasbro would crush childhood memories with.

Rated "Teen" just to be safe.

Current Story: Assuming Direct Control

Synopsis: For years, I've watched. For months, I've planned. For weeks, I've waited. For days, I've prepared. For hours, I've laughed. These ponies thought they could have harmony? Thought they're actions, will, and even their lives were there own? No, no, no. I will educate them--I will show them the truth. And I will direct this personally. Not a Crossover

Published 2014-03-26 02:00:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-29 12:21:44 UTC

As Daylight Dies

As Daylight Dies

By Craine

Synopsis: Where they acknowledged singing birds, I acknowledged a distraction. Where they stood in the frontier of night’s end, I stood in the perfect shroud. Where they heard warm words of inspiration and promises of new beginnings, I heard nothing but half-truths and falsehoods.

Where they saw an infallible goddess, I saw a target.

The Summer Sun Celebration.

It was pretty straightforward, actually. When all the formalities and pleasantries were shed away, it was just like any other day. Princess Celestia rose the sun. Just as she’d lower it hours from then. Nothing special. Not special to me. Not usually.

Yes, it was the first event I had the pleasure—or displeasure, considering Nightmare Moon—of witnessing when Twilight and I first arrived in Ponyville. Yes it was an event I’d grown to appreciate for the invigoration it brought every year.

That, or the free food.

But this time, as I stand stock still on the roof of City Hall, as I watch eager ponies below listen to Celestia’s hollow speech, I’d come to appreciate everything that concealed my presence.

Where they acknowledged singing birds, I acknowledged a distraction. Where they stood in the frontier of night’s end, I stood in the perfect shroud. Where they heard warm words of inspiration and promises of new beginnings, I heard nothing but half-truths and falsehoods.

Where they saw an infallible goddess, I saw a target.

With my breath even, my aim true, I lean forward and allow myself to fall. I made no sound, as she’d have heard me. I made no move, as she’d have seen me. I buried the private reservations I had for this task, as she’d have surely, surely sensed me.

Finally I fall upon her. I felt her shock as her shoulders went rigid. I could hear her terror as she gasped aloud. Or perhaps it was a typical reaction, having cold steel forced through the back of one’s neck.

I’d stopped caring about the difference years ago.

Her neck snaps taut for the quickest of moments, but becomes mush immediately, like putty in my claws. She falls… and I fall with her. I anticipate the impact of her body meeting soft grassy soil. I anticipate the silence that killed the singing, laughter, and cheers. I lay upon her, my eyes closed, my body relaxed, and my thoughts hollow and dry.

As I opened my eyes, I withdraw my knife, ignoring the wet removal with well-practiced ease. My claw gently fell over her open eyes, completely rolled back and hazed with a disembodied terror I would never grow to accept.

Then I stood. Slowly. Carefully. My blood beats wildly through my veins but I ignore it. I ignore it as expertly as I ignore the shrieks and cries now grating into my ears. I stare upon the mare below. Cold. Still.

Dead.

It seemed the royal guards caught wind of it too. They bellowed a war cry I thought incapable of pony-kind, and I stood still and unfazed. I closed my eyes again, anticipating the flashes of white fur, gold armor converging upon me. But the sharp strike to my head, which stung as thick as sharpened ice?

That’s how I ended up here in a crusty dank cell. Chained by my ankles, wrists, and neck. Bound to my knees against this moldy stained wall. Glaring into the misty darkness through my swollen eyes. I couldn’t tell how long I’d been there, rotting away, feeling my own body eat itself to survive.

To be frank, I didn’t care.

And the reason I didn’t care opened the rusty double doors before me. My eyes seal shut at the light, like the very sight of it would finish where my starvation left off. A deep, long-forgotten part of me—the part that wished for normalcy, for a life as a simple #1 assistant, for an answer to how I became a part of this—wanted that light to kill me.

It didn’t.

And instead of harsh cold voices declaring my death before a crowd of bloodthirsty ponies, I received a gentle hoof against my cheek. I shouldn’t have been relieved, really, but I was. With eyes still closed, I spoke for the first time since I was thrown into that cesspool.

“It’s done…”

My voice grates against even my own ears, like grinding boulders, my throat thick and dry from mal-hydration. I hear nothing in return. And when I open my eyes to meet the ones I knew were there, I wished I’d kept them closed.

She smiled at me. She was… proud of me. I could see it. It should have been a wonderful thing, but it wasn’t. Instead of smiling, I only frowned. Instead of relaxing my worn muscles, I only shook. Instead of bowing before my new god, I didn’t budge.

My mission was accomplished. Princess Celestia lay buried beneath the soil and the mare before me, Twilight Sparkle—the catalyst of a new age—took her place.

Still she smiled. And suddenly, it became all too clear.

As I remembered conspiratorial thoughts whispered to me, the training and molding that crack my very bones, the promises of something better from a well-deserved death, I realized I’d done exactly what I was meant to. Then, as I stared into a smile that would haunt Equestria for eons to come…

I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

——-

‘Slowly we watch
The degradation
Of a civilization
The rise and fall
Of all we are
Stands before us’

“As Daylight Dies”

Author's Note

A written response to Thirty Minute Pony Stories' 450th prompt: Godhood.

Deliver Us From Evil

Deliver Us From Evil

By Craine

Synopsis: Discord honestly thought he was just fulfilling his promise: to use his powers for good, instead of evil. He honestly thought teaching Twilight Sparkle Creation Magic was for the greater good of pony-kind. From that day forward, Discorded hated being right.

For someone who’s lived as long as I, one would think I’d have thought of everything. Or at least thought of enough to see this coming.

But I didn’t.

That’s the funny thing about immortality, you still age. You still forget things—important things, no less. Foresight has proven to be one of those things, something of which I’d desperately needed for a long time without realizing it. Well, I realized it then, the moment my claw clutched around Twilight Sparkle’s throat.

I should have seen it coming but I didn’t.

I didn’t see the bonds, fragile as they were, undermined by unforeseeable desire. I didn’t see the dangers of ponies getting ‘used’ to my presence. Even worse, I didn’t see the gleam in Twilight Sparkle’s eye every time I taught her a new spell.

Perhaps it was the foolish child in me—the child that cried out for ponies to share, laugh, and cry with—that denied the whole thing. Denied that Twilight ‘I’m Perfect, So Deal With It’ Sparkle, would ever abuse Creation Magic. Perhaps that same inner-child denied the grand plan contrived by the ponies I’d grown to call my own.

I tired of being hated, so I loved.

I did things for them. I fulfilled my promise to use my powers for good, instead of evil. I gave knowledge, I fixed what was broken, I protected my little ponies from danger. And they adored me for it. The very thought of it makes my stomach lurch—my ignorance, I mean. It’s so easy now, to see Fate’s design, to see that I was destined to protect these ponies from themselves.

And from the crazed princess that struggled against my grip.

I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I didn’t see the ambition that once guided every snap of my fingers, guide Twilight Sparkle beneath my wing. I didn’t see the turmoil—the chaos—I crafted simply by giving her what she wanted; knowledge. I didn’t see that, through teaching Twilight Sparkle Creation Magic, I recreated myself in her image.

When she created her own Elements of Harmony, it became vaguely apparent that I’d made a grave error. When she integrated those Elements into her very being, my error became all too clear.

And so had Fate’s plan for me.

Ponies of Equestria, the very same ponies who skittered into their homes at the mere mention of my name, revered me. The six bearers of the real Elements of Harmony, who shunned and ostracized me for the wrongs I’ve dealt them, respected me. And Twilight Sparkle, who dived into knowledge nopony was yet prepared for, who convinced me that teaching her could flourish Equestria for generations to come, who gained unimaginable power through her own means, destroyed Ponyville and usurped Canterlot with that power?

She looked up to me.

And on that day, as I stood over Twilight’s shaking form, ignored the stench of smoke, the sound of crumbling marble, and the cracks and holes spread in Canterlot Castle’s throne room, Twilight Sparkle looked up to me again.

Where once, those eyes teemed with defiance, dead-set to remove that which threatened her dictatorship, they were now wide and pleading. I remember what I saw in those eyes that day; the same eyes that looked to me when a problem need my special touch. The same eyes that filled with love and acceptance, where they once held nothing but fear and contempt.

The same eyes that praised a new hero to their people, the eyes that pleaded for a savior to replace the inactive Elements of Harmony. From those eyes came a plea that resounds in my soul to this very day: ‘Deliver us from evil.’

And with a swift thrust of my claw, that exactly what I did.

Author's Note

A written response to TMP's 520th prompt: The Fall of Twilight Sparkle. I LOVED writing this one.

Assuming Direct Control

Assuming Direct Control

By Craine

Synopsis: For years, I've watched. For months, I've planned. For weeks, I've waited. For days, I've prepared. For hours, I've laughed. These ponies thought they could have harmony? Thought they're actions, will, and even their lives were there own? No, no, no. I will educate them--I will show them the truth. And I will direct this personally.

Your name is Rainbow Dash. And today will be like no other.

But you already knew this. From the moment you awoke on your cumulus, coated with sweat, lips pulled behind your gums, you knew.

As it occurs to you that there is no escape, that what you’re about to do is inevitable, your muscles ache with reluctance. Your hooves swim fiercely in your colorful mane, begging it to stop, begging that this all go away.

But it won’t go away. And you smile widely, the morning sky blurred by unexplained tears.

You leap from your cloud, teeth unbrushed, body unbathed. And you take flight without hesitation. In seconds, Cloudsdale is but a spec behind you. Your tears break into the trail left by you, and you whisper solemnly, desperately.

“Please...”

No one hears you. But deep down, you knew no one would hear you. And worse, no one would understand. You knew that too. But it didn’t stop you, oh no—it accelerated you, in fact. It fueled the beat of your wings with all the terrible things you planned to do.

As a library all too familiar comes into view, growing closer than you wish it would, your wide grin returns. And there, your grin would stay. Even as you crash rather spectacularly through one of the windows, your grin doesn’t fall.

You stand tall and proud among the shattered glass littering the wood floor. Then a pained groan catches your ear, and your gaze uncaringly upon the unicorn beneath you. Twilight, her name was. A name you spat off your tongue.

You turn your nose away from the screeching protests of this little banshee. With a decidedly harsh and vulgar demand for silence, your smile sharpens at the offended mare.

Then, despite your foolishness for the attempt, you apologize. Profusely, in fact. But you lied. Just as you knew you would. As Twilight softens her face to you, you tell her that. Coldly.

You turn your flank to the unicorn, lashing her nose with the whip of your tail. And just as you turn to leave, a quiet, whiny sob assaults you. You turn a breakneck turn, and you run to Twilight with pleas for forgiveness.

You know it’s useless, you know every attempt to even speak of your reasons would turn the eyes and ears of all who heard. Yet, there you were, tearfully justifying your actions by blaming voices that simply don’t exist. Voices that nopony else could hear.

You reel back with a stinging cheek, a stumble or two keeping you afoot. When it all sunk in, your jaw ached as your teeth ground together. You were... livid. Enraged that such a weakling had the gastric fortitude to slap you.

Then to lecture you.

Be it from your sudden itch to fly, or the very sight of this horned wench, you turn on your forelegs... and smile as your hind-hooves collide with something soft. You’re back on all fours now, huffing and heaving behind a white-hot glare. And only the squeals snap you back to the present. You turn to her, eyes wide, mouth agape.

You shudder at the unicorn sprawled on the floor, shielding her bleeding face with shaking hooves. Every sniveling sob beats into your chest, guiding your hoof over it. And then you have to escape. You have to fly.

And you do. Before you know it, you’re tearing into the Great Blue, never quite recalling the last time you wanted to leave the library so badly. And then you smile again, as the curses of a certain dragon fade behind you.

And as your mane is lashed into the wind, you realize you wanted him to see that.

No matter how loudly you curse your imaginary puppeteer, no matter how much you pretend your actions aren’t your own.

You are a monster. And you knew it as well as Twilight.

Your name is Rainbow Dash. And you are of no more use to me.

____

I take my pen across the list, severing the name with a thin red line. And then, slowly, deliberately, I draw a checkmark beside another.

“Assuming Direct Control.”

Author's Note

This one's been around for a WHILE. At first, a drabble that failed TMP's moderation. Later, an example of how to narrate second-person correctly. And now, placed soundly in the Compendium of Darkness. Oh, how it all falls together.