Peace

by Masterweaver

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Nightmare Moon, Drama, Changelings, Original Character, Crystal Ponies
Length: 4165

In seven worlds, War ends. What follows is called Peace. But is it really?

A crystal pony, freed from her helm.

A changeling, pacing between the cocoons.

A thestral, looking at the colored moon.

A donkey, passing through a broken town.

A dragon, flying away from the chaos.

A machine, toiling among its brethren.

A wraith, across a wasteland.

Published 2015-12-24 05:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2016-01-07 04:15:39 UTC

The Faceless Foes

She said nothing, made no sound as the pink mare slammed her hooves against her again and again, cursing and screaming with all her might, because she knew, she knew she deserved so much, much worse.

A blue pegasus and a gray pony grabbed the mare and pulled her back, pulled her away, and the gray mare did... something, some tune, a hoof through the mane. The pink one's eyes still brimmed with well-deserved hatred, but her body relaxed, rested, waiting until it would need to strike out again. The blue pony reached out a hoof, offering but not forcing assistance, some apology falling from her lips for the pink one, saying she had bad days, that she needed help and couldn't get it, that what she did wasn't right.

Her eyes traveled up the hoof to the metal wing, then focused on the rainbow mane.

She knew this pony.

This pony, in the haze of the forgotten days. Diving. Her helm's constant whispers weren't particularly strong that day; they didn't need to be anymore. In the heat of the battle, she'd simply sidestepped and twirled her sword, and... most ponies would be dead, but this one got up, red splattered on her eyes, and her sword slammed out of her hooves.

She curled in on herself, her already dull luster fading to black. Dimly she heard the cries of panic, cries for a medic, and worry... not for her, for she didn't deserve it, but for the pink one who might end up imprisoned. She heard the pegasus snap at the gray mare.

Half remembered words from the helm surfaced, tantalizing taunts and threats, warnings that her daughter, or was it son, or maybe sister would be broken if she ever failed. She couldn't remember what they were, how they looked, did they even exist...

The pegasus snarled at the two earth ponies, wings spread wide---

no

No, they were friends. They could not break up over her.

She reached out, not for the blue hoof, but for the pink one. She reached out, beckoning her close. She reached out, trying to be seen. And miracle of miracles, the gray pony noticed, eyes widening.

The pink pony was released.

One step, then another. The blue pegasus stood in the way, but she would not let the Lordmaster break her brother, mother, father? She crawled around the pony, pain screaming screaming until at last the pegasus stood aside, and the pink mare, hatred giving way to confusion, was close. She tried to speak, she coughed. She gathered. She said.

Three little words, she said, before the world faded out

and back in, the strange sound of invisible bells that were so common to the world now telling her she was, again, in a house of healing.

One of the soft healers came then, smiling at her. She preferred the soft healers, who looked her in the eye while they tended to her wounds, where the hard healers came with words about the reasons behind pains and how they would last and what to do to stop them and treated her as a problem to be solved. It was a shame that the healers had become so divided over the years, each one dedicated to making ponies whole, but in such different ways that only working in tandem could they.

Visitors? Perhaps it was her family, if she had any. She frowned. Wasn't she doing... something? Something important...? She would take the visitors. The soft healer looked... surprised at that. But, yes. The visitors could come.

They stepped in. Gray, pink, blue. And suddenly she remembered what it was she was doing.

She looked at their eyes in the silence. Shame. Shame from all three, but for different reasons. The pink one had her eyes downcast, ashamed of her actions. The gray one had her ears folded back, ashamed of herself. And the blue one, damningly, was ashamed of the other two, her hoof kicking against the ground.

It was the pink one who spoke first. One word, one question. Then, quickly, her squeaking voice clarified what she meant.

She simply pointed, first at the gray one, then the blue. They were confused, but the pink one understood. The pink one looked at them and understood. And she wept.

The gray one tilted her eyes toward the pink one. A hoof reached out. A tune. The blue one's eyes snapped toward her, but she held her own mouth shut.

After a moment, she felt strong enough to clear her throat. She waved at the gray one, and said the same three little words.

And then, while the gray one stared at her, she spoke. She spoke of family, of friends, of the bonds that fueled and faltered. She spoke of the whispers of the helm, how they took those bonds and perverted them, used them to fuel depravity. She spoke of the deeds she committed, of the kills and near-kills, and her eyes drifted to the metal wing.

And from there her gaze spiraled up to the shocked ones of the pegasus.

Three little words, she said, but not the same this time. The first was the same, and the second very similar, but the third oh so different. And then, four more, a question, that struck right at the heart.

Blue and gray and pink all froze.

And blue... blue sighed. Blue sat down. Blue looked at her steel wing. Words, more words, about how she thought the helms worked, how she thought it was hate that fueled the war--how she looked to stamp it out where she could.

Only the Lordmaster hated, she explained. The helms were his creation, forged by hate, but powered by love. Hate would burn out, but love, he knew, could last forever.

There was quiet.

Then the pink's tears turned to wails. She begged, begged for something she had already given, but not just from her. So again, again, she said those three little words.

"I forgive you."

The Reviled Resistance

Subject EL-E25, current balance of 7/10. PhiStorErAg ratio: 4/5/0/1. Rate of extraction: 17 Cs per second. Illusive Stability: High. Physical stability: Average.

Hmm. 7/10. It was 5/10 only a week ago. And a complete loss of Eros... EL-E25 was never very high, but to just dump it all on Philos could suggest a failure in the self-worth cycle. This would have to be reported to the mindweavers, hopefully before she was drained. He opened to the Sharing, marking EL-E25 as a priority.

For a moment, he looked through the Sharing, hoping to glimpse the Queen. But... no. The days of her constant presence had ended when Canterlot fell.

He withdrew with a sigh, moving on to the next cocoon. PB-P073, a particularly dangerous sort--marked with a pre-req to keep her below average physical stability. A high balance of 2/10, but at only 5 Cs a second. The PhiStorErAg ratio shed some light to the reasons behind that: 3/0/0/7, almost as pure as... well. Illusive stability was average, and physical stability was low but acceptable.

This one barely changed. True, there'd been that scramble a while back when the gems were re-installed into that crystal tree, but other than that her balance barely fluctuated and her extraction swung up and down regularly. It had taken a whole squad to bring her down, all undisguised--she'd had some strange ability to notice disguises. There was a constant betting pool in the Sharing about how long it would take this pony to be drained... he himself had put a few threads on the possibility she'd never be drained at all.

Well, only a few. Mostly as a joke. An undrained pony was a wasted pony, after all, and...

He shook his head. Best not to focus on that. He was nearing the end of his rounds, coming on the big four.

Ah, UB-E92. He'd heard rumors of this one, how she'd woven illusions on the battlefield, how she was almost deceptive enough to be a changeling herself. And she hadn't quite been beaten yet--unlike most others, her eyes sometimes opened, blankly darting around. Illusive stability was barely kept at acceptable levels, often times going critical with barely any warning. Even her extraction was notable: 1/10 at 20 Cs a second, but only 4 of those would fit into the PhiStorErAg ratio; the rest was a rare philautia blend that only the queen was allowed to drink. Other than that, she was almost pure--8/0/1/1. And her physical stability was, as always, exceptionally high.

It was an interesting counterpart to the Pony Champion whose cocoon formed the Queen's pillow. She'd become known for her speech, for her words; she'd talked down the Nightmare, and then the spirit of Chaos. She'd tried to talk to the Queen, before and after the reveal... but the Queen laughed at her words. UB-E92, though, used her words as weapons; where the Pony Champion tried to invoke harmony, this mare would shove herself up to great and powerful heights. And for the longest time, she was amongst the greatest threats to the swarm.

She was... she was almost like the Queen had been, in the old days. Sometimes, in his nightmares (or perhaps deepest dreams), he'd see her break free and conquer the hive herself, making things the way that they once were.

He shook his head, turning to the other mindbending member of the big four. EP-E94. One of only five ponies to have a balance of 1/10, and at 50 Cs a second that was almost incredible. Attempts to classify her PhiStorErAg ratio had all but failed; all that was certain was that it constantly changed, and that it would make any changeling incredibly loopy. Oddly enough, she had not required any illusion for extraction; in point of fact, her rate dropped when illusion was applied. She waved at him as he passed, smiling... was it a sad smile?

This once, just this once, he waved back before checking her physical stability. Amazing as always. This mare was a contradiction, a rebel who never surrendered but gave freely. Sometimes when he darted into the Sharing, he could hear whispers--she wasn't doing anything wrong. She could be released. She could be a pet.

The Queen never heard these whispers, of course, or she would have been enraged. Doubly so after the Crystal Tree event.

With one last apologetic smile, he patted the cocoon and moved on. EP-E94 might have been the penultimate capture, but PY-E93 was the one that had been considered the true demon in that last battle. Images in the Sharing were passed around like a horror film, of how she was able to devastate so many... the most famous, of course, being the one where she tore the Queen's wing off. With her teeth.

Her status was a problem. Her PhiStorErAg ratio was almost level; 3/2/2/3. But her ratio was 4/10 at only 3 Cs a second, and every Cupid extracted had to be carefully purified of hate before being passed around. In fact, she'd been moved to the incubation list because of it, the only one of the big four to be added; from the size of her belly, the current foal was in its third month. Thankfully unlike the other members of the big four, her illusive stability never wavered below average; he didn't want this kind of monster breaking free. And her physical stability seemed decent.

He would hate to be the changeling on matron duty for this one. If she woke mid-birth, all tartarus would break loose.

And then there was the crown jewel, Z-E95. He walked up to the final cocoon, set on a special dais. The three alicorns made the Queen's bed, but this one was kept out as a statement, a reminder of the Queen's power. Many changelings would visit here... even more, these days, as the Queen rarely joined the Sharing anymore. They'd watch her shake off all illusions, only to stare as she was kept barely alive, watching her foes. Her extraction was impossibly slow--only one Cupid a second--impossibly constant--a balance of 1/10--and impossibly pure--0/0/0/10 on the PhiStorErAg scale.

He looked at her, and she looked at him.

And, as always when he reached the final cocoon, he stopped, ready to ask today's question.

This time, though, he didn't have his list. The list was gone, no suggestions from the Sharing, no thoughts of his own. Perhaps it had been a silly ritual, all things considered; he wouldn't have heard any reply, and he wasn't sure she could understand. But a part of him still wanted to believe, to think that she could dispense wisdom even from her position of failure.

A simple phrase rolled out of his mouth, almost unbidden.

"What's the point...?"

The Perilous Princess

The stars glimmered, as they always did. Glimmered and glistened and gleamed, tiny spokes of wonder in the great expanse. And of course, there was the crown gem, the multi-colored disk with an all too familiar silhouette painted in black splotches.

She let her eyes rove through the panorama, flexing her leathery wings in silent contemplation. Once, long ago, she would have jumped off the spinneret she perched on and glided about in sheer glee, a rare display of passion in the night. Once, long ago, she would have given anything to be where she was now.

Once, long ago... she would have been overjoyed to be able to fly freely under the stars.

Now...

Now, they were beautiful, but ignored. Now they were omnipresent, but pointless. Now the world was focused on finding dangers, shoring up the walls. She was expected to fight alongside their glorious ruler when called... or at the very least, fight for her in battles too unimportant for her to grace. Everywhere she stepped, other ponies shied away, silence overcoming their whispered conversations. Once her wings were a symbol of the night's freedom, but now they had become seen as the tools of the ruler's will.

She'd taken to cloaking herself, posing as a disgruntled earth pony in the small town next to the palace. It was the only way she could be around others without inducing abject terror. It had taken time for the town to accept the 'outsider', but she'd persisted, snarking her way into a small group of ponies and eventually earning their respect when she dunked five mugs in one night. She'd yet to take off the cloak, she didn not want them to back off, but sometimes she considered it.

A smile flitted across her face as she remembered the friends she found there. The old stallion who'd been cut off from the largest part of his fortune when the sun went down forever; the stubborn mare who'd turned to dusty books and managed to keep a small grove of apples alive. Oh and her brother, wow. There were a couple unicorns there too--a little worse for the wear, since many of them had fought and spent time locked away, but... well, those who remained had their ways. She even suspected that one of her 'earth pony' friends was actually a pegasus... featherflyers were rare these days, most being captured or willingly converting their wings.

It was part of the glorious ruler's mandate--only she and her favored were allowed to claim the sky.

A fruitbat flew up to her, chirping in its annoying little way, and she let out a groan, shooing it away. The chirping of bats was nothing compared to the song of birds, all harsh and high-pitched and designed to echo. The only thing she shared with these tiny creatures were her wings and her hearing; they were pests, mockeries of her kind. And yet the glorious ruler felt that, merely because she and her kind loved the night, anything that looked like them was to be elevated.

Her eyes followed the bat as it flew away, falling on the blue flaming gates that were Tartarus. That, at least, was one thing the glorious ruler had gotten mostly right, one good spot in all her madness. When Discord came, she overpowered him. When Sombra returned, she overwhelmed him. When Tirek broke free, she sought him out, their duel becoming legend for the great devastation it brought before the monster was downed. The glorious ruler did not so much reign from her throne as wait upon it, a ready defender for Equestria to launch at whatever threatened them--and since her sister's fall, there had been many threats. The day to day governing was left to other ponies.

...and only ponies. The glorious ruler had already driven the dragons out before her. The donkeys, already rare, were slowly slinking out of their own accord. Sheep and Cattle, dependent on formerly available grass, thinned their herds as many died of starvation. She even felt a pity for the griffons, whom she had despised before; their lost empire was eaten up by the new order, and any found were infected with the madness of the glorious ruler. Nationstates from across the world had launched assault after assault, and she had watched the glorious warrior dive into battle with her crazed laughter.

Now, Equestria was safe. Well, safe from marauders at the least. No foreigner would dare face them, for fear that their leader would rise into the air and decide them of import. The monsters within the border had learned to avoid cities and towns, running whenever spotted. Death came to the sick, the old, and the cruel, never the innocent.

And ponies were free, free to think and create. The glorious ruler was... strange, in that way. She minded not what the songs and arts portrayed, even if it was the sun. She would lavish over a child's scribble just as much as a master's magnum opus. She would fund the most exotic of sciences and devices, should they come to her attention. She spread wealth with all the care of a butterfly, freely and wildly. Always laughing, always.

That laughter... that was about the only thing about her personality that remained stable. Sometimes it was kind. Sometimes it was cruel. Sometimes cunning, sometimes pointless. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Sometimes she cried, but even then, she laughed. It didn't take the eyes of a hawk to spot, and it didn't take the mind of a fox to know... something was deathly wrong with this mare. Deathly wrong.

Pointing it out would almost certainly result in death.

The stars glimmered above. Once, she had loved them, wanting to see them at all times, wanting to fly hooting and hollering beneath their glorious pinpricks. Once she would have given everything to be where she was now.

And she sat on the spinneret and stared into the great beyond.

"...it wasn't worth it."

The Superior Species

The cart wheels creaked and groaned, gaining the attention of so many milky eyes from the shattered houses and hodgepodge homes around him. He gave a snort, half amusement and half aggression, as he returned many of the looks with a flat stare of his own.

It wasn't so long ago that he'd have visited this town--any town, really--and gotten naught but a glance. Of course, in those days magic was woven into every brick, defending every settlement against incursion; a magically neutral donkey would have been beneath notice for most of ponykind, save merchants wishing to make a sale. It had seemed reasonable, after all; Nightmare Moon was magical, Discord was magical, and the army of Crystal Changelings was magical--fight magic with magic.

And then Tirek had come rampaging out of nowhere, crushing the warring factions with their own drained power.

His long ear perked and he turned to see a small group of foals talking. From the looks of it, a trio comprised of all three tribes was trying to talk some pink filly into playing a game of kick the ball with them. Or maybe headbutt the ball. There really wasn't that much they could do with a ball, all things considered. And the pink filly didn't seem interested.

In anything.

Oh, he'd seen that look before. That was the look of a pony who put far too much value on their cutie mark, back when they had one. Well, he hadn't seen it on a foal before, but it was obvious enough; the slumped neck, folded back ears, and tail clutched in loose forehooves. On the one hoof, it was terrible and all, given how much ponies had defined themselves by those magical flank stamps. On the other, he couldn't take it at all seriously when all around them other milky-eyed ponies were shillin' out a living.

He shouldered his harness with a huff, tearing his eyes away from the tiny scene and letting them roam warily around. Thankfully, none of the ponies around him seemed ready to jump him. All the ponies he'd met were rather shaken from having their entire society upended, which was only to be expected; a large number had simply become desperate enough to try anything, steal from anyone they saw in some mad attempt to regain whatever it was they lost. Once he'd have been happy to give handouts. Once he even did. And he only ever made that mistake once.

He'd barely gotten out of that horde with his life.

A grating voice caught his attention, and he looked skyward to see a pink pegasus shouting orders at a group of ponies below. Well, now that was something. Had she regained her magic...? No, her wings were simply huge. A ground-bound pegasus was an interesting creature, all things considered--they'd been hit even harder than the unicorns, when it came down to it. Down being the key word; for a race whose entire culture was tied up in flight, losing their bonds with the sky was even more devastating than the usual loss of mark. He'd seen many crazy pegasi on his travels... too many to count.

Unicorns were at least able to reconnect with their hornless brethren, and pretend the jut of bone on their heads was nothing more than a fancy gift of genetics. They and the earth ponies were both reduced to mostly the same level, after all, since a lot of the earth ponies had relied on their own subtle magics before Tirek stormed through their lands. He noted, with a satisfied nod, the white unicorn helping along a couple of earth pony twins, making sure the pair was taken care of.

This town had once sat at the foot of the mountain, probably becoming a bastion of trade for those going to and from the capital itself. He could see, here and there, remnants of luxury services; a spa, a tailor shop, a candy store. He wouldn't have been surprised if there was a good dependency on tourist trade. This community was better than most, all things considered. They were taking care of each other, of their lost and broken. The fact that they were all broken... well, that was somewhat disappointing. He seriously considered actually staying for a while, settling down, perhaps.

But... no. His quest was greater than that, and he was too close to his goal to fail now. A short rest, then...

The ruins of Canterlot beckoned from the base of the mountain they'd fallen to, shattered spires and mansions across so much rubble. He could see it in the distance--he suspected that quite a few ponies from this very town had either made their way there or, perhaps, come in after Tirek had thrown it off. Maybe he could ask around for ponies who had lived there.

He looked around, from the massive-winged pegasus gliding around, to the white unicorn helping the twins dig through some rubble, to even the fillies playing a mildly rousing game of chase-the-ball-and-kick-it-some-random-direction. There was just enough calm in the air to suspect that Equestria's new overlord hadn't visited recently, but... well, the damages didn't seem to be all that old. Perhaps this was just one of Tirek's favorite haunts; it would make sense, given how close it was to the mountain. And--ah. The pegasus was looking about, constantly, not just at the buildings but at the horizon. The unicorn kept an eye on the fillies, who themselves never strayed onto the road.

It was a fairly clear road.

Right. Staying here was far too risky. With a sigh, he doubled his pace and pulled his cart as quickly as he could through the settlement. If he were found by Tirek... well, not all hope would be lost, he wasn't really that important, but it would be something of a setback. He tipped his hat at the pair of donkeys he saw--no idea if they were in on it--and soon enough, he was out on the road, walking toward his goal. Still, he spared a glance backward.

"...How the mighty have fallen..."