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      Down With The Princess: The King with Red Eyes       
                    -by GreenSpark7756-                    
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                 Chapter 1: The Elite Act                  
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Chapter 1: The Elite Act
He stopped outside of its towering door. The wind seemed to howl from every direction, with the same message “she needs you.” He took a step forward and opened it’s doors. A pony dressed from head to toe in a dark cloak walked out. It stared at him, before running off into the sunset. He disregarded it and opened the steel doors. Inside, many waited to die, or for someone else to die. Tears stained faces, faces bled hope, hope bled disappointment. Some waited for a loved one to walk out just fine, most didn’t. He walked up to the person in charge. She sat behind a barricade made of corroding wood that once was painted with the most exotic of colors, but now just looks like the ruined remains of an old golden era. She was younger than he expected, being only slightly older than him. She only took only one look at his face and pointed him to her left.
He walked down a long corridor where many people rushed from room to room with the aim of saving the life of the dead. He walked to the end where inside, stood a mare. Her orange coat looked sadder than ever before, as her blue and yellow mane drooped lower than usual. He tried to quiet the door, but a squeak still escaped from it’s rusted mouth. She turned to meet his eyes, his crimson red eyes. “It’s been a while.”
“You were the one who left.” He replied. She gave him a look, that only a mother can give when scolding her child. Then her face molded itself into a smile. His inner child took over and ran over to her side. He found that his inner child rearranged his face. It matched hers. “I missed you, Night.”
She hesitated before letting out, “I missed you too, Crimson.”
He looked over to the bed. There she laid. Bruised and bleeding, laid the all-powerful queen of Icella. Her eye swelled beyond belief, as the gashes in her skin pierced her flesh with such force that it seemed other worldly. The blood stained her white coat, but her reddish brown mane blended in with it. Broken bones stuck out of her lifeless limbs which drooped to the floor. Crimson turned his head and sat down in one of the chairs, hidden by the darkness.
Her eye twitched with a flicker of life, as she opened it. Her moans could attract the dead. Luckily, they didn’t. Night rushed to her side. She looked down at the blood, drowning the bed faster than she could repress the memory. The queen’s one good eye met Night’s gaze. “She did this to you, didn’t she?” Night asked with more concern than Crimson had ever heard his name paired with her voice.
“Night, Nig-” a sharp pain in her stomach forced her to stop talking.
Night gave her the look and leaned forward, “She did this to you, did she not?” Night whispered. Tamara tried her hardest to nod, but the most that came out was her slightly raising her head and it coming down with a thud. Fire took over Night’s eyes as she forcefully turned around.
“Night, please, you have to understand.”
“Understand what?” Night turned around with so much force, that it would’ve broken her neck hadn’t she been careful. She swallowed her pride, raised her head, and used the fire in her soul to speak, “Do you still have the papers for the Elite act?”
Tamara’s face when whiter than usual, almost as if she saw a ghost. “We gave on that idea, it was reckless and foolish. I-”
“Do you still have the papers?” Tamara nodded. “Then where are they?”
Tamara sighed, and then cringed when her chest expanded her wounds. “They’re in the box you gave me, when we were little.”
Night relaxed. “Thank you.” She gave a warm smile to Tamara as she walked out of the room.
Tamara tried to lay her head down, but only got so far; when she noticed Crimson sitting by the foot of her bed. “Hello mother.”
She tried to smile, “Hello baby.” Crimson got up and walked over to his mother. He sat down on a corner of her tightly sewn quilt. The blanket oozed red, irony liquid; He didn’t mind. She moved her leg to meet his, but pushed it back when a violent cough took control of her body. Crimson put his hooves on her chest, trying to calm her broken lungs down. Thick, red, liquid iron doused his dark-as-night blue coat. Her coughing fit ceased as she put a hoof on his shoulder in an attempt to prop herself out of the bed. She got only so far before an invisible sword plunged itself into her stomach. She fell back to the bed with a thud.
Crimson felt the room getting hotter, to the point where his blood began to boil. He slammed his hoof onto the bed, almost putting a hole in its foot. “Shadow has gone too far.”
His eyes began to tint a slight green. “Crimson, don’t blame her.” He shook his head, as if pulled out of a daze. “I’ve done things that I, I,” Salt water burnt around her blackened eye. “I’m not proud of my past. She didn’t do this to me, fate gave me what I deserve.”
“Fate dictated for you to die, defending your country from a monster?” Saltwater stained his eyes. “Is this really what you deserve?”
Tamara laid there for a brief second, but that second seemed like an eternity. She closed her eye and laid her head back, “No, I deserve worse.” They both went silent. Thoughts ran through Tamara’s mind like a flame engulfing a forest. Crimson turned to face the darkened chairs. He lingered at her bedside before slowly making his way to a chair. “Crimson,” he sat down in the dusted chair. “You don’t have to stay here.” He stared down at the floor. Mold and dust covered it to the point where none of the wooden floor could be seen.
“I don’t care.” The dust ran away from a drop of water which exploded onto the floor. Crimson tilted his head upwards, choked on his own words, and then flung his head back down. Tamara smiled a grimace and began to drift off.
Night slammed the front door behind her. Every step she took, the flame burned brighter. The town was bustling and full of life. Every turn there would be ponies laughing and having a good time. The walls all looked newly painted with gardens growing as tall as the sky. The streets were practically paved with gold. As she turned around another corner, the heart of Icella could be seen. The wall stood atop their podiums like a lion gearing up to shout its mighty roar. The window panes and door frames were dressed from top to bottom with the finest jewels the country's wealth would allow. Its sturdy walls cut through the sky where deep gashes could be made out in the clouds.
The entryway greeted her with an arch that seemed to follow the roof to the heavens. Inside stood a grand throne which blended itself with a ray of shadows which covered its padded head. The room was lined with guards wearing their gold-plated uniforms. One of them approached Night, “Halt! Nopony is to pass without the queen’s permission.”
Footsteps came from the other end of the room, where a different kind of guard came walking in. He was dressed in the same attire that the other guards were, but there was a little badge pinned to his a price of fur right under his head. He had a baby blue coat which leaked out of his armor. His dull, light grey mane and tail were ready to fall off and join the rest of his generation. “What is going on here?” He spoke in a low, booming voice. “Can’t you see that this is Princess Night Armor?” The guard jumped back from shock as he slightly shook his head. The guard quickly bolted for his post.
“Thanks Steel.” Night said as they both gave him a look of disappointment, “One of your newer recruits?”
“Yes and the worst of his bunch,” a small chuckle escaped his mouth as he looked her in the eyes. “Welcome back Night.”
“It’s good to be back.” They started their way to the stairs.
“Well, what brings you back to Icella?”
She looked at him with a fire large enough to consume the country. “Tamara.”
He looked down, “So you saw her then?” She nodded and continued up the stairs. They eventually came to a door opened slightly ajar. There was nothing unique about the oak door, save for a small crack near the base of the door.
It opened to reveal a room. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big either. It proudly wore white, silky, spider - woven curtains and sheets. Towards the back stood a tiny nightstand. Right beside it is where the bed slept. Around the room laid any other furniture that she might’ve needed. But the only thing of importance was along the wall where the windows overlooked the town. There laid a small box, covered in withered black paint, which beared a lock made of fool’s gold. A small tag melded itself to its wood. The tag was too worn to be read, but she knew exactly what it said.
The box opened with a click as Night rummaged through the clutter that exploded from its tiny storage. Amongst the cloth, jewels, and other miscellaneous objects Tamara hid away, was a crumpled up letter. She opened it’s sealed up lid. Inside, the words “Elite Act” were written in a giant, bold font. Steel looked over her shoulder, “I thought she eradicated that act.”
“She did.”
“Then why does-”
“She doesn’t.” She turned to look him in the eyes. “It’s the perfect victory.”
“Night, that act-”
“I know.” And with that, she took the page out of it’s prison and took it over to her sister’s bed. It read: During this time of war, I call for six young individuals, raised in Icella, of my choosing; to enlist in a group whom will take the queen of Darkness into custody to receive punishment for her crimes against Icella. Signed Tamara Armor. Night stared closely at the ink that dotted the paper, when the paper suddenly soaked up small explosions.
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I am,” She lifted her head and wiped away the fire the plagued her eyes. “This is the only way to rid her,” Fire poured from her eyes, “Do you know what it’s like?” She turned to face Steel, “Every second, someone close to you could either be dead or suffering? She has gone too far. I’m ending it.”
Steel wiped the fire away from her face, “I supposed he’s already on your roster?” She nodded. “If you must go through desperate measures, might I suggest my apprentice?”
Her head cocked slightly as her tone became one of question. “You have an apprentice?”
He nodded to her, “I owe him my life, least I could do was teach him.” Her face glew with the stigma of saying yes or no. “His name is Rogue Gunner. He should be at the academy.” He turned to leave the room, “Emphasis on should.” The heavy door slammed behind him.
Her glance shifted to the paper and back at the door. A large gulp of air, filled her lungs as she picked up the paper. She headed towards the door and left the building.
She made her way down the dirt road, passing every wooden, decrepit, and bleak house on the way. Everypony she passed lived their lives, unaware of the state of their queen. She eventually came across a relatively new building. It’s bricks didn’t tell it’s age the same way that the neighboring buildings did. Banners dressed its exposed walls with the crest of Icella. No pony knew what the crest was for certain. Some thought it was an apple hanging over the ripples of a lake; others thought it was a snail finding a lone leaf to call home. However, the most accepted theory was it was a baby holding it's rattle to the sky; thus it’s been nicknamed “The baby of triumph”. She approached the building’s magnificent doors.
Inside, the brick corridors spread for seemingly forever as a few shadows indicated turns at random intervals. A smaller, portly pony wearing a tin wire for glasses. His bright yellow mane sharply contrasted his boring, brown coat. He waddled over to meet her acquaintance. “Hello there,” he said in the most nasally voice he could muster. “Who might you be?”
“My name is Night Armor.”
“So you're Tamera’s sister then?” He looked ashamed. He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “What can we do for you?”
“I’m here for a student.”
“Well I assure you that whichever student did whatever it is that you’d need to speak personally with them. We will give them the fullest punishment our school would allow.” He tried to talk in a calming, reassuring voice but only managed to sound worried.
“It’s not for the same reason you’re thinking.” The weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. “I’m here for a student I’m looking into out of request from Steel.”
“Then stop your search. He’s not anything to you or Steel.” His face turned into that of disgust. “I had my way, he would be long gone by now.” He took a deep breath as he tried to regain the sanity his rant had stolen. “I'm sorry, but I guarantee you that Rogue is not a good candidate for whatever it is you’re doing, less it be a sacrifice to the sun goddess. And even then-”
“I only want to see him.”
He rolled his eyes, “Fine,” he turned to lead her into the winding labyrinth. Every twist and turn lead them to the same looking hallways, until they stopped at a faded oak door. There were no windows to peer inside, and no hint that it was a classroom at all. If anything, it looked like a janitor’s closet. He silently moved the door ajar. Silence. He flung the door open. Students lined row after row of the same desk with the power to destroy all originality. A pony stood at the front of the room, levitating a piece of white chalk. She stood there. Unblinking. Lifeless. Each student turned their heads in unison to meet their professor’s eyes. “Rogue Gunner!” The class turned their heads to face one student. He sat there with his cloak waving in the breeze. He slowly got up and trudged to his professor’s side. His cloak moved to meet Night’s face.
“My name is Night.” He stood there, staring at her. The hood shadowed his face in a veil of darkness as it leaned to face the professor. The void moved back to meet her face. A chill ran down her spine.
A deep breath came from the shadow. “Steel sent you?” Night nodded. “Why?” He started pacing around a small section of the hallway. He stopped in his tracks as his head shot up. “I’ll do it.”
“But I haven’t even told yo-”
“If it gets me out of this place then sign me up.” Rogue interrupted.
“Good riddance.” The professor exclaimed before realizing that the class can still hear him. He tried to gather himself back up as if picking up papers. “But what about your education, hm?” He said trying to make up for his outburst.
“I’ve spent ten years roaming the country and yet, I think you need the education.” He quickly shot down his papers as he started walking towards the winding hallway. He looked back at Night, “You coming?”
She followed him back through the labyrinth, his cloak made from golden thread, until they exited the building.
Author's Note
This is my first time writing something for an actual publication, so I am always looking for any criticism about the story and I hope to add that to the next chapter, which I don't write ahead of time. So please, I'm looking for criticism to make this story as good as I can make.