The Mare of the Equestrian Eighth

by The 24th Pegasus

Rating: teen
Tags: Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Princess Celestia, Spitfire, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad
Length: 2477

A mare, a soldier. A soldier, a hero. A hero, a veteran. A veteran, forgotten.

War changes ponies. It can make civilians into soldiers, and soldiers into heroes. But becoming a hero requires a sacrifice, not only of blood, sweat, and tears, but of the soul. For when the dark days come, it's the heroes who bring the sun, and when it returns, they're forever lost in the light.

Being a hero doesn't just mean being brave. It means giving up your life to the cause—regardless of whether or not you die.

First attempt at telling a story through poetry. Might try more things like this if the ideas hit me.
Winner of The Rarity award for EFNW's Scribblefest 2016
Cover art by Sheandog

Published 2016-02-21 09:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2016-02-21 09:20:03 UTC

The Mare of the Equestrian Eighth

The Mare of the Equestrian Eighth

The 24th Pegasus

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Saw the headlines on that day.
She snatched the paper in her teeth
And dropped two bits to pay.

She couldn’t fly back home to read
The paper she had bought.
Instead she found a place to glean
The info that she sought.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Dropped the paper on a table.
“War Declared!" Its title screamed,
“Reserves, head to your stables!”

The mare read on, her excitement piqued;
The paper spoke at length.
King Sombra, the feared lord of shadow,
Had returned to full strength.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Read the reports of the battles.
“Our colts are strong,” the paper said,
“Yet need more in the saddle!”

“So now what are you waiting for?”
The paper asked quite clearly.
“Stop standing around, stop looking lost!
The army needs you dearly!”

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Wasted not a breath that day.
She flew back to her Cloudsdale home
And on her bed she lay:

Wallet, ID, and bits too;
A nice dress for the road;
Toothbrush, toothpaste, and some floss;
The rest in her abode.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Left her house with a light pack.
Blue wings fluttered over neighbors;
She never once looked back.

Across the floating city’s sky
Her wings did carry true,
Until here a white building stood;
Its purpose there, she knew.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Wasted no time at the door.
She barged right in, her shoulders square,
And looked across the floor.

Lines of ponies, some hundreds strong,
Were queued up at the tables.
And at each desk, in golden garb,
Were soldiers and their labels.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Knew which desk she desired.
For even though the line was long,
The mare there, she admired.

Captain Spitfire, in the flesh!
And at the stable, too?
Did she turn in her uniform?
And with the army, flew?

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Painfully waited in line.
The minutes crept by, and then the hours,
Then finally, that shine.

Spitfire, decked in golden arms,
Raised an eyebrow at the mare.
“So, Rainbow Dash, you here to fight?”
She gave a knowing stare.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Proudly stood up tall.
“Yes, ma’am, I am, and ready to serve.”
Her tail betrayed it all.

Nodding, the captain pressed her hoof
Atop the mare’s signed forms.
A small black mark, a black horseshoe,
A passage to the storms.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
From cheek to cheek she smiled
“Welcome to the Eighth, kid,”
The captain’s smirk was wild.

Some ponies showed her where to go;
She let them take the lead.
Now she was here, no turning back,
No matter how she’d bleed.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Soon found herself in camp.
The days were bleak and rainy.
Her mane was always damp.

She slept next to her wing mates.
She crawled with them through mud.
They suffered from the sergeant’s wrath
Through tears, sweat, and blood.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Learned to fly in tight formation.
She learned how to fight with hoof and wing.
She learned to defend her station.

She learned the marching orders.
She learned the battle cries.
She learned to hate the enemy.
She learned to guard the skies.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
For weeks on end, she thrived.
While lesser ponies cracked and split
In boot camp, she survived.

She graduated top in class
High marks in every skill.
But there was one thing that she did not learn
And that was how to kill.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Knew the tactics, knew the score.
But no amount of combat drills
Could prepare her for war.

By Spitfire’s side she flew to fight;
Hoof-picked to join the elite.
They flew to lands far to the north
And fought to see through sleet.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Had never seen a war.
But then she saw the casualties:
Thousands, maybe more.

In frigid snow, on blood red sheets
The ponies lay there dying.
Their comrades stood off to the side
Their faces screwed and crying.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Just couldn’t look away.
The cries of pain and suffering
And all this in a day?

Where once she thought she’d find a fight
She now saw only death.
This wasn’t grand, this wasn’t fair
And then she took a breath.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Saw those yellow wings turn.
Together, the Eighth plunged through the wind
And her flesh began to burn

Heart racing, wings pumping, limbs full of lead
The mare did join the fight.
The front was now a bloody mess.
The lines of ponies, tight.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Followed her captain’s lead.
They folded their wings, put nose to ground,
And swiftly picked up speed.

Like a hammer on an anvil,
Valkyries of death and pain,
The Mighty Eighth slammed Sombra’s lines
And tore their center in twain.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Hardly thought that fight.
Her wings were fueled by instinct,
And instinct led them right.

Helmets split, skulls were crunched,
And ribs were broke in two.
Blood splatter, screams of death,
Sharp crimson on her blue.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Didn’t know when it was over.
Next thing she knew, she was back at camp
And staring into her clovers.

She didn’t have an appetite.
She couldn’t even eat.
Was this what it was like to fly
As one of the elite?

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Left the mess without a peep.
While her comrades drank and partied,
She cried herself to sleep.

The nightmares soon both came and went
And left her short of rest.
But even still, on the next day,
She had to fight her best.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
For three months now she fought.
The days never got easier.
But she learned to own her thoughts.

Her mane grown out, her tail cut short,
She made an impressive vet.
And now she watched the new recruits
Who hadn’t seen war yet.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Had swiftly climbed the ranks.
She only had to crush her soul
And the mark on both her flanks.

No more the happy stuntsmare.
No more the lazy kid.
The privates called her cruel and cold;
She noticed when they hid.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Tasted her share of defeat.
The lines were shifted so many times;
She hated to retreat.

She hated the Crystals with all her soul.
She hated watching friends fall.
But even then, for all she’d done,
She hated herself most of all.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Watched Celestia from up high.
The white alicorn appeared unannounced
In a carriage from the sky

She didn’t want the Princess here;
She distracted from the fight.
But seeing the way ponies’ eyes lit up…
Maybe the Princess was right.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Almost saw the attack too late.
While Celestia spoke and raised morale,
King Sombra threw all his weight.

Thousands of Crystals, with one thing in mind:
To end the solar reign
And as the mare flew, the onslaught began
With arrows falling as rain.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Fought a brutal fight that day
She took on twenty, and when it was won,
On the hard ground she lay.

Her squad mates were the first to her side
Then the doctors and medics, too.
They took her up and back to camp
And buried a bit of blue.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Woke only to despair.
For one side was both feathery and warm
But the other side was bare.

She didn’t cry; she simply couldn’t
She’d last cried so long ago.
Instead she withdrew inside herself
And bottled up her woe.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Now a grounded, one-winged mare
Knew her fighting days were over.
To dream of flying, she didn’t dare.

For days she lay in misery
Even when they sent her home.
She found a knife, and in the night—
Thankfully, she hit a bone.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Lay there, slick with blood.
An old friend from Cloudsdale found her.
She looked funny, covered in mud.

Fluttershee, or Fluttershy?
The poor mare couldn’t remember.
But tender hooves did work their magic
And with their bandages, saved her.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Lay on the bathroom floor.
And while her friend flew to get help,
She found the tears sought for.

They took her to the hospital.
They asked about the knife.
Yes, she told them, and calmly admitted
She’d tried to end her life.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Was placed into a ward.
She’d rest in here, a friendly place;
She was unbelievably bored.

The words they spoke were all the same
Even though the faces, new.
But no matter how they talked and talked
They couldn’t bring back her blue.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Lamented in her bed.
And as the days both came and went,
She wished that she was dead.

What world awaited beyond this room?
A world stripped bare of flight?
Was such a world worth living in
When not a thing feels right?

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Stopped talking to the nurse.
She withdrew inside herself;
Her condition got much worse.

But then she got a visitor,
A mare of lavender and horn.
She said she was an engineer
An oath to help, she’d sworn.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Dared to hope and dream.
Could this mare be speaking the truth?
Were the skies nearer than they seem?

This mare who came from Canterlot;
Twilight, she was named.
She promised to give the gift of flight
But could she do what she claimed?

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Saw no other choice.
She wanted the skies, she wanted her wings;
She gave these thoughts her voice.

Twilight smiled and took her aside,
And they made plans that night.
When they were done, the mare was gay
But felt even then, her fright.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Waited a long time for her wing.
She didn’t see Twilight again
And didn’t know what she’d bring.

But then one day, Twilight returned
With burlap on her back.
It opened to reveal a wing;
Not blue, but nearly black.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Stared in awe at the device
Could this roughened steel contraption
Redeem her sacrifice?

Twilight led her through the basics
Of this shiny metal wing.
Then they took her back to place
The brace to hold the thing.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Returned from the table.
Twilight met her and began to test
Whether to move the thing, she was able.

They walked behind the hospital
And began to do the test.
The mare only had to give thought;
The machine did all the rest.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Learned to fly again that day.
It took her several hours,
But she soon found her way.

From loops and twirls to flips and dives
The machine was precise.
It executed her every thought.
Such a wonderful device!

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Spent that whole day flying.
So it was with surprise that Twilight saw
Upon her descent, crying.

She rushed forward to give a hug
And asked her what was wrong.
The answer the mare gave was simple:
She’d been grounded for too long.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Left the hospital that day.
And even though it needed tuning,
The machine gave her a way:

To return to battle in the north;
To soar those bloody skies;
To finally find her friends again
And fight right by their sides.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Returned to much fanfare.
It raised the spirits of the reeling army
To know that she was there.

It was several days before she fought,
But when she did, she knew
That this was where her soul belonged,
Amongst the blood and blue.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Returned, weary and worn.
She’d led the charge at Sapphire Pass;
She’d stomped King Sombra’s horn.

So now to the droll life of citizenry
The hero finally returned.
Some nights she dreamt of losing her wing,
And the flesh on her shoulder burned.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Watched as the world moved on.
She drifted the land, from town to town;
She never stayed very long.

What need did the world have for heroes?
What good were ponies like her?
Just an ugly scar from years of war;
A reminder of how things were.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Lost everything on the Earth.
She lost her money, home, youth, and more,
But most of all, her mirth.

The days of being an Equestrian hero
Felt like so long ago.
Ponies would look her way and see her wing,
Then avert their eyes and go.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Pulled in what jobs she could.
But they were barely enough to keep her fed;
When she could leave, she would.

She hardly cared to fly these days;
What reason did she care?
She was only a broken relic of the past,
A flying freak of a mare.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Drifted into Canterlot
Where after much inquiry and trial,
She found the mare she sought.

The post war years had done Twilight well;
An academy of her own.
Twilight, surprised at first, soon took her in
To her own three story home.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Sipped the tea that Twilight made.
It was fancy tea, in a fancy house,
With cushions made of suede.

Twilight asked what brought her here,
And the mare could only shrug.
She gave no response, least not in words,
But gave Twilight a hug.

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
For once, didn’t weep that day.
Though her gut roiled and grumbled,
She had nothing left to say.

She left Twilight behind at her home
And took back to the street.
She sought a secluded place to hide,
From the public eye, retreat

The mare of the Equestrian Eighth
Felt a stirring in her heart.
It was the first in many months;
Maybe it knew to depart.

And so, that night, in the shadowed wharf,
Now that she’d seen her friend,
She strung a length of rope up high,
With a loop beyond the bend.

And on the next day Equestria knew,
The dockhooves on the wharf found a bit of blue.