Fall of Equestria: Year of Misery and Hope

by HiddenMaster

Rating: mature
Tags: Anthro, Main 6, Princess Luna, Drama, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Sex, Queen Chrysalis, Profanity, Adventure, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death
Length: 15836

Nothing is ever simple. The Caribou did not simply "win-end of discussion", and the entire world did not roll over for them. Some fell, but many more had the balls to give the Caribou a big "Screw you." These are their stories.

When the Caribou discovered the antithesis to their entire ideology and way of life in the form of Equestria, they endeavored to obliterate both its culture and the minds of its people. Some fell, but others held strong

When the Caribou offered a deal to the Changelings, they refused.

While the Caribou expected Equestria's allies to be cowed by the total conquest, they instead banded together and prepared for war to rescue their fallen friends.

The stories of Equestria and the world around it hardly ended with the invasion of a group of rapists jerks, and here you can read some of their tales.

This is a series of side stories and one shots canon to longer running stories in my Fall of Equestria series such as Sunset's Return. Reading them generally isn't required, but is encouraged.

Chronological order of the Series (thus far):
Chapter Two: The Minotaur Declaration
Chapter One: Chrysalis - First Contact

Published 2017-01-12 19:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-10-03 06:45:19 UTC

Chapter One, Chrysalis: First Contact-Part 1

Location: Equestiran Badlands, Sandtrap Gorge
Two weeks week after the Caribou Invasion

Amethyst shifted slightly from their hidden position on a small rocky outcropping overlooking the long dried up gorge below. In the process, she felt relief as she dislodged a small piece of sandstone that had been digging into a soft joint in her mottled light brown and sandy exoskeleton that blended in perfectly with the sandstone around them.

Dusty looked up from her own compact spyglass.

Dusty looked at her and back to the gorge below and back. she sent back over their link before resuming her study.

The day’s heat had morphed into a hundred and thirty degree monster that was uncomfortable for her. To make matters worse, the skies were bright and sunny without a single cloud or any shade in sight. She didn't want to think what Tartarus born horror it would be like for someone who couldn't modify their exoskeleton to dissipate heat as efficiently as possible.

Unfortunately(or fortunately depending on perspective), she didn't have to wonder too much, as she had the perfect examples below.

The force, initially fifteen hundred strong by her estimate, had been spotted near the northern mountain range after several recon squads had noticed mysterious flashes of red light in the dead of night. On day break, the small army had began the long march south. Under most situations, a group of ponies approaching from the North wouldn't have been too unusual. After the disastrous wedding invasion, Royal Guard patrols had combed the Badlands for suspected Changeling hiding spots.

That hadn't lasted long.

Besides being the unrivaled hottest region in Equestria with average annual temperatures of 110 °F, the Badlands was also the most arid place in Equestria, with an average rainfall of three inches a year and no above ground sources of replenishable water. The most interesting and plentiful animals to be found were brown rock lizards known for water conservation so great that they only shat salt crystals (incidentally, these salt crystals were strangely tasty when refined and thus attracted the occasional extreme gourmet from time to time) and desert adapted lichens).

Oh, and the odd gargantuan tatzlwurm resided in this barren wasteland.
Combine all of these together and Changelings' species wide obsession with triple and cross redundant layers of secrecy and a rather intricate portal network, and most of the search parties who weren't eaten or desiccated gave up within a month.

Which made it all the more interesting that the force of over a thousand that had entered entered the Badlands immediately marched in the direction of one of the less well hidden decoy habitations filled with death traps and false information on Changeling society Chrysalis had commissioned decades ago. Furthermore, this force wasn't the royal guard, or ponies in general, but rather a strange species Dusty had never encountered called the Caribou.

Amethyst said with a sly grin.

Dusty stared at her sister incredulously.

The big white Caribou with a fancy headdress had caught her eye early on into their shadowing. Besides being bigger than any pony she'd ever seen by two heads, he had biceps that could snap a tree in half and a beautiful silver warhammer Dusty had resolved to steal at the first opportunity.

Amethyst said.

Dusty said.

Three seconds later the big white one crashed to the ground. Several caribou around him panicked and tried to wake him up to no avail.

Dusty refused to look at her sister. Her sister was making those damn eyes at her.

Amethyst sang only to be interrupted.

Still, this brought her back to how sad this whole situation was. Whoever these caribou were, they had absolutely no idea what they were doing.

If the fact that they'd ignored all the signs and walked right into the midst of a tatzlwurm mating frenzy three days into their march wasn't enough, they were clearly not prepared for the Badland's welcoming environment. While they did have the forethought to bring along several wagon loads of water, most had come in wearing heavy, protective, and oh so heat conductive metal armor that had caused several dozen to suffer heat stroke within a day and had been mostly abandoned in a large pile on a secluded dune by the second day( Incidentally, the Haven's scouts had scavenged the armor and, as it was fitted for caribou and inferior to their exoskeletons, smelted for raw materials).
While this helped, they also hadn't had the forethought to shave off much of their winter adapted fur before the march, and thus they'd been losing members every day to heat stroke and dehydration courtesy of their own damned body hair.

Five days ago, fifteen hundred heavily armed caribou had entered the Badlands accompanied by flashes of light. Less than six hundred still stood and that number dwindled with every following day.

Dusty remarked.

Amethyst said. After a moment, she added,

Dusty said.

Amethyst whined, dragging out the "a".

Dusty said with the subtlest of grins.

Amethyst said quickly. Her eyes went hazy for a moment as she reached through the Family's link.

Wait for it...

Snap!

Amethyst flinched as an audible snap rippled through the link.

Dusty rolled her eyes.

Amethyst pouted.

Dusty patted Amethyst's shoulder comfortingly. It was more sentimental than anything as their light recon exoskeletons protected against minor impact. Nonetheless, Amethyst certainly appreciated the act, if the flood of warmth across their link was anything to go by.

Mom's voice echoed in her head.

Dusty quickly scanned the back ranks of the caribou, but the warriors and the lagging water wagons were well in the dried out gorge by this point.

Dusty smiled. She felt all warm and fuzzy she when her mother's affection flooded across the link, like a hug. The only way it could be better was if Mamma was with her for hugs. Mamma's hugs were the best.

She knew she’d have time for hugs later; Mamma always made sure she had time for hugs. She had the feeling the week or so of shadowing these idiots would shortly come to a climax.

<Launch gas canisters two through six. Platoons six, seven, eight, and nine prepare for attack in t-minus forty-five seconds and counting. Platoon five remain on standby.> Queen Chrysalis's voice echoed through the link, no hints of her previous familiarity as she coordinated the ambush.

Amethyst commented.

Impossible to see in the mid noon glare, four out of six hidden mortars atop the gorge walls fired several tiny cylinder objects which soared high up into the air before descending once more to slam into the Caribou ranks. Small explosions rippled along their ranks before massive clouds of green gas burst into being with extreme violence and enveloped the entire gorge.

At this distance, Dusty could hear the panicked shouts and incoherent screams of the Caribou. Moments later, two hundred Changelings erupted from their hiding spots in the gorge’s sheer walls and descended on the confused mass, firing green stunning blast as they went.

Amethyst asked after a long moment.

Dusty face palmed.

Location: Haven, Changeling Badland

Princess Euphoria asked, eyeing the bulging muscles on many of the bound caribou distastefully.

Chrysalis frowned as she examined an unconscious Caribou warrior, one of over five hundred captured alive in the ambush. Her daughter wasn’t wrong-minotaurs had a huge amount of muscle mass but it was distributed well and looked natural. These Caribou, on the other hand, looked like the horrid results of an illegal steroid craze that had swept through Equestria twenty years before. Sure, users were strong, but the sheer amount of muscle had been grotesque beyond belief.

Chrysalis commented, studying the unconscious warriors.

Chrysalis stepped back, and Euphoria followed her lead. Nearby, a worker immediately zeroed in on the massive warrior and resumed prepping him for cocooning and long term feeding.

The entire cavern-a former storage area retrofitted into a processing center-was abuzz with activity as Haven processed its unexpected but most welcome new food sources.

Jaded Rose, the head of the prisoner processing center, informed them. Compared to her towering queen and Euphoria’s own impressive height, she was rather diminutive barely coming up to Chrysalis chest despite being only slightly shorter than the average pony mare. She looked up at Chrysalis calmly through a set of reading glasses Chrysalis knew she didn't need.

Her children often picked the oddest little decorations to make them unique, and Chrysalis was never one to forbid it.

Chrysalis offered.

Euphoria thought it out for a moment, hands behind her head and buried in her aqua marine hair. Princess Euphoria said and walked off, waving as she did so.

Chrysalis smiled bemusedly as her youngest and only living royal daughter walked off. She had decades before she had to face any expectations of ruling her own haven and she damn well knew it. Euphoria took all the time in the world to focus on her latest hobby-this time, painting. Euphoria certainly had the talent for the art and her paintings had been put up for display all over Haven, but Chrysalis had to admit Euphoria was getting morbid as of late. She could only imagine what all of this would bring out of Euphoria's increasingly scary imagination this time.

Eh, I was worse at her age.Chrysalis thought. At Euphoria's age Chrysalis' mother died and all seven of her royal sisters decided negotiations for the throne involved death traps and explosions.

Chrysalis followed Jaded Rose through the lines of unconscious Caribou in various states of cocooning until they reached a small side chamber.

The room was barren of any furniture or decorations and was carved out of the bedrock and smoothed out after which the walls were reinforced with black steel-the specific name for chitin organically grown for tunnel support. She couldn't remember what purpose it might have once served. Anymore, it housed a single Caribou heavily bound in chains.

His appearance surprised her. While the vast majority of the caribou they'd captured ranged from young and exceedingly muscular to disgustingly muscular, this one was lanky and thin. He was covered in the most curious of blue tattoos of some in an angular script she didn’t recognize. Erratic webs of lines connected them, all seeming to lead to his forehead. Furthermore, he was on the older side of things, and his once brown fur was graying all over.

Rose explained.

Chrysalis eyes narrowed. "Fascinating. He's more interesting than I thought, considering he's been pretending to be asleep and has been listening the entire time," Chrysalis said aloud.

Rose said with shock, her stoic facade broken as she whirled towards the prisoner her hands and horn aglow, but Chrysalis cut her off with a single gesture.

The caribou stiffened and opened his blue eyes. "Heh. And I thought I had you fooled, Queen Chrysalis, leader of the Changelings and successful challenger of the Sun,” the Caribou said with a slight accent.

Chrysalis laughed. "Flattery? That won't get you anywhere, but thanks for the compliment anyway. I believe you have me at a disadvantage," she said.

"Oh, how rude of me. I am Agnar, senior runemaster of the Third Circle in King Dainn's court."

"Ah, good. Now that introductions are out of the way, let's cut to the chase," Chrysalis said as all pretenses of friendliness left, replaced with a cold glare. "Cooperate and this won't become unpleasant. Why did you invade my home?"

"Invade? Hardly. I was sent to open diplomatic talks with you and your drones on behalf of King Dainn, I would bow, but, well I’m currently bound up in your hospitality,” Agnar said, and shifted.

“ You send a small army into my domain for diplomatic talks? Pardon me, but that is an utter load of shit, especially considering whatever the hell you did to your warriors before marching on my home,” Chrysalis said. The muscle she’d seen on those warriors wasn’t natural. She wasn’t certain on the details, but based on some minor scarring it looked as if the warriors had experienced a sudden massive growth of muscle in a very short period of time, perhaps minutes. If she or her scholarly daughters had a full week in a lab, she was certain they would find the Caribou warriors’ magic had been heavily augmented and strengthened from its natural state.

“Can you blame us? The great and powerful Chrysalis hidden in her formidable kingdom behind her mighty army and with your kind’s...reputation meant it was only sensible to bring some security with me,” Agnar said pleasantly and with a disarming smile.

“Suppose I humor you. What did you wish to “negotiate”?” Chrysalis asked, arms folded.

“Ah, business at last. I’m sure you’re aware of my kind’s arrival and conquest of the royal sisters, yes?” he asked.

Chrysalis nodded and bade him continue. She carefully didn’t show any emotion. The conquest of Canterlot and rapid spread of Caribou forces across Equestria had taken her completely by surprise. Equestria was enveloped in a maelstrom of change at the moment, between remaining members of the female composed royal guard, mass fleeing, and fighting on top of a reconfiguring society. She had chosen to monitor the situation, for now at least rather than take direct action, at least until she had a better idea of what was going on

“Good, good. Well, I’m sure that you’re aware if some of the...issues, that comes with a newly conquered people. His majesty King Dainn has learned of your kind’s unique abilities, and wished to ally with you. He is prepared to offer you a continuous stream of undesirable individuals in exchange for your drone’s services as spies, saboteurs, and special soldiers for duties both in Equestria and in...resistant nations beyond,” Agnar said.

“You want to use my kind to help you conquer the entire region,” Chrysalis stated.

“Obviously. Dainn is of course willing to overlook any...rudeness on your part towards his envoys such as myself, and frankly the loss of life on the expedition, while regrettable, is-”

“You must think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Chrysalis asked.

“Excuse me?” Agnar asked.

“Your kind have shown themselves to be disgusting misogynistic bastards with absolutely no remorse who mutilated, tortured, and raped every single last mare you get your filthy hands on and twisted the minds of Equestria’s stallions to something evil. I would slit my own throat before siding with your kind, and if I did help you, you’d stab me in the back at the first opportunity,” Chrysalis said.

"Ah. I underestimated your intelligence. Plan B it is," Agnar said with a wide grin. Chrysalis felt mildly surprised as as a third glowing eye opened on his forehead and locked gazes with her. For a brief second, Chrysalis' mind exploded with pain as she felt a powerful presence like a thousand vibrating razors shredding at the defenses of her mind before her world was enveloped in white.

Chrysalis blinked. Everything had changed.

Where before she stood in a rather plain room, she found herself in what could only be a sex dungeon. A cursory glance around revealed collars, chains, assorted sex toys,no less than seven different whips, and a rack, among many other sexual implements.

Across from her stood Agnar with a happy smile and a gleam in his eyes. He leered at her her up and down, and it occurred to Chrysalis all of her clothes, from her dark green silk dress to the matching black panties and bra underneath had disappeared.

Chrysalis quirked an eyebrow. "Is this how you come on to all the girls?"

"No, but it is much more fitting for someone of your gender. As a matter of fact..." He snapped his fingers and a massive Caribou runic circle came into being beneath her feet. From the circle, dozens of silver chains shot forth and wrapped around her knees, thighs, waist, arms, neck, and shoulders securely. She briefly struggled but their strength proved overwhelming and they dragged her to her knees.

Several smaller chains manifested and snaked up and wrapped around her body lewdly. Two sets forced her legs to spread open wide thereby exposing herself while another constricted around her generous breasts, causing her to wince at the painful pressure. Uncomfortable metal wing covers manifested around her membranous wings and forced them to her body while a black inhibitor ring snapped onto her jagged horn, immediately cutting off much of her magic.

Chrysalis shuddered. She knew the binding wasn't real, but the meaning and intent behind mental constructs certainly were, and when it came to the mind, that's all that mattered.

"Much better, don't you think?" Agnar asked.

"You know," Chrysalis said, gritting her teeth,"this would be exciting with someone I liked. With you? It pisses me off."

"Your anger is irrelevant, as well as any position or rank above that of new changeling slut," Agnar said with a smug grin. He all but strutted forward and walked around her, his lustful eyes practically burning into Chrysalis' skin as he took in every last curve.

Chrysalis couldn't resist the opportunity for a retort. "Why don't you paint a picture? I'll be sure to put it in with you in your grave."

Chrysalis flinched as she felt a harsh slap on her ass. "You know, it's that attitude that I love. It is going to be so much fun breaking you," Agnar whispered right into her ear before moving back in front of her. "In my youth, I earned the title of Bitch Breaker," Agnar said nostalgically. "Oh what joyous days those were! Black collars with smoldering eyes and delicious defiance at every corner! Alas, those days are long past. For someone of my talents, it's practical torture in Caribou society nowadays. So few rebellious females these days, but I won't have to hold back much longer with what is coming," Agnar said in a conversational tone more fit for the civility of a cafe.

Chrysalis decided to test her chains. Slowly, she started to build up her strength, but she knew something was wrong the instant the chains shifted in response. She cried out as electricity coursed through her body and ignited every nerve up and down her spine while the chains simultaneously tightened more around her form.

"Oh, trying to resist, slut? Well, let me put that delusion to rest. I was born with a psychic gift greater than seen in generations. You may be an exceptional psychic among your kind, but compared to my power? You're more worthless than the dirt beneath my hooves and those chains are staying. The more you struggle and fight them, the tighter they'll become, alongside the lovely bitch zapper I've got built into them. Please, go ahead, keep struggling, I could use a nice symphony before we begin."

For the moment, Chrysalis stopped struggling and shot him a glare. "You do realize you're going to die horribly, right?"

"Ha! That's a good joke if I've ever heard one. I might just keep you sane enough to make them once in a great while. Well, when you're not putting that pretty mouth of yours to better use." Agnar laughed uproariously. During every single intonation of his long laugh, Chrysalis added another horrifying and painful step to her plans for his eventual death. "But seriously, shut up."

Agnar's third eye flashed and Chrysalis screamed as the chains constricted further, the one's around her breast squeezing unbearably tightly to the point of cutting off circulation in while yet more electricity tortured every nerve in her body.

Agnar hummed appreciatively as Chrysalis screamed. "Ah. I missed that sound," he mused. He stepped to her panting form as she recovered and absently pinched her right dark green nipple before he grabbed her by her chin and forced her to look into his blue eyes. His breath washed over her nose, the scent of decaying fish washing over her senses. She barely resisted the urge to throw up.

"You seem to be under the impression your automated drones will save you, but that's where you're wrong. This space, this world in the mind-scape I've isolated us in," he said spreading his arms wide," operates at different speed than the real world. A single second amounts to a day in the real world. We’ll have time for my fun."

"And...why...me?" Chrysalis said, great breaths racking her sides as her body shook from the ungodly amount of volts that had coursed through her system.

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked. I have several reasons for it, you know. You certainly have an exotic appeal with your blue hair, green eyes, dark skin and luscious body, and I've honestly grown tired of the mares back home in Hvinir. Moreover, though, you're rule is a crime against nature," Agnar spat and slapped her across the face, sending spittle flying.

"A queen controlling countless mindless puppets like she has worth. Ridiculous," Agnar sneered. "When King Dainn sought volunteers for this mission, I was the first he came to. With you incapacitated and my talents, I could take over your swarm. It would have been easier if you’d been agreeable from the beginning, but, let’s be honest, on your knees at my crotch was always your fate. You accelerated the process,” Agnar said.

Chysalis laughed. "You? A leader? Dainn must have had no idea how shitty a leader you were because you’re a-"

Chrysalis never finished her thought as he launched a powerful haymaker at her cheek, sending her crashing to the cold stone ground. "Don't you dare you heartless bitch. Those warriors knew what they were getting into and did their duty in drawing you out, but none of them would have had to die if you'd taken the bait from the beginning like you were suppose to! Seven days we marched in this miserable wasteland, waiting and giving you opportunity after opportunity for ambush but what do you do? You sit on that fat cushiony ass of yours and let nature do you dirty work you cunt!"

Agnar seethed and his nostrils flared. He was ready to leap upon her and make her suffer all the indignities she deserved for causing the deaths of so many of his people, but slowly calmed down when he saw Chrysalis wasn't moving.

"Guess I don't know my own strength. I'll have to be careful to not completely break you-at least not too fast." he said, running a hand over his head. "Oh, and if you think you can bide your time long enough to try something, know it's hopeless." At this, Chrysalis managed to push herself back up and looked at him.

"As we speak, I've activated the runic circles tattooed on my body to broadcast our message into the minds of every male drone in the complex. It is disappointing that they don't have developed minds of their own," he said and Chrysalis ever so subtly narrowed her eyes ,"but they should be a good enough workforce to help us build up infrastructure in Equestria. Once I'm done breaking you and assume control of the swarm, I'm sure they'd love stuffing your slutty holes every day for the rest of your new life."

At her glare, he chuckled."Don't worry-you'll come to love being everyone's favorite bug themed broodmare. Maybe you'll have the blessing of bearing new Caribou warriors into the world one day."

Chrysalis couldn't take it anymore. Through all his inflicted pain, she'd held it in without issue, but this? She tried holding it in, she did, but she had her limits.

"Bwahahahahahhahahahhahaa, oh, hahha, wow, this is precious." Agnar's surprised "o" face followed by his eyes cartoonishly bulging out in rage made her double over in laughter again. Angry, Agnar made the chains shock her again, but she merely grunted, not as affected as before.

"....I'm going to start your training, and I'm going to enjoy this far more than I honestly should," Agnar said icily. He removed his loin cloth and revealing his erect cock as he aggressively advanced on her.

"Heh, no. I'm afraid I'm going to veto that," Chrysalis said, in a chipper tone.

"You don't have a choice, bitch!" Agnar roared.

"That's where you're wrong," Chrysalis said with a smile that put Agnar on edge. With that, she stood up. The chains tried to stop her but forcibly loosened as she overpowered them. The shock pulsed through her as it had before, but this time she mostly ignored the incoming shock, this time with barely a shudder.

Agnar froze in disbelief.

"This has been fun, and all these threats of yours would be threatening if you weren't operating under a mountain of assumptions making an ass out of you and not me,” Chrysalis said, idly stretching out several kinks in her arms

"First off, I let you drag me into your mindscape, and the fact that you didn't notice-not to mention all that lovely monologuing you did- speaks volumes on your incompetence." She took a step forward, and one chain snapped. Agnar physically responded as if slapped, and it occurred to him he had invested so much of his will in those chains that each snap and break was a part of him breaking.

"Secondly, male changelings don’t exist. Only females," Chrysalis said and took another step forward. Agnar's jaw dropped as well over half the chains snapped and fell off her. The ceiling of the sex dungeon disintegrated, revealing a black void.

"Third, none of my daughters are mindless drones. Every last one is a beautiful, living, thinking soul with their own hopes and dreams, and I love them with all my heart." Chrysalis's wings burst free in a shower of sparks as the wing covers burned in green flames while the ring on her horn cracked with light before disintegrating into nothing but ash. The walls of the room vanished rapidly as they were disintegrated from the top down, along with every tool in the room until they only stood on a square of stone flooring.

Every blow, every binding Chrysalis destroyed was like a stab with a rusty dagger to the brain for Agnar. His eardrums had ruptured and blood vessels had popped in one eye while blood gushed from his nose. He was shuddering in short pained gasps, but something in him snapped as he saw Chrysalis standing proud and free, his most powerful binding techniques broken and shattered at her feet.

He gathered all of power, all of his being and might into one powerful strike and hurled it at Chrysalis in one pony-sized mass of dark blue energy. He was supposed to capture her and showcase her the fate of all defiant females for the Caribou Empire, but surely Dainn would understand if she had to be killed, right?

Aganar's elation and euphoria at Chrysalis' demise vanished and was replaced with a cold that bit at his bones as a massive green shield manifested around Chrysalis, deflecting the blow to either side. "How!" Agnar demanded. His third eye, with a mind of its own, centered above her, and he noticed them. Thin threads of ephemeral green light stretched out from the abyss and speared into Chrysalis chest, right where her heart is.

"Oh, I won't deny you're powerful, and if I didn't cheat my ass off in a straight up mind-to-mind brawl, you'd probably beat me four out of five times. However, you made a fourth, very unfortunate assumption," Chrysalis said, and her eyes ignited with a bright green glow.

Agnar backed away warily, but froze as the glowing green eyes of a tall Changeling with emerald hair and facial features very reminiscent of Chrysalis materialized on her right. Briefly, he locked gazes with her. His stomach curled and rebelled on itself and he vomited from the sheer oily and cloying hate the brief connection poured into him.

"No..." he whispered, eyes wide with primal terror as another Changeling manifested on Chrysalis' left. Another appeared on her right, followed by another, and another, and yet more and more forming a close circle around him and adding to their ranks until he was surrounded by thousands of Changelings of all varieties, some big, some small, from princess to worker to infiltrator to soldier and more, eyes all locked onto him.

Chrysalis's smile was practically feral, and for the first time he realized how big her fangs were. For all that Caribou idolized great warriors, at their innermost core, they were descended from a prey species, and in this instant, he knew none of Chrysalis' line had ever been prey].

"Changelings are never alone."

Location: Canterlot, Royal Palace
One Week Later

Golden sunlight filtered through the study’s vaulted windows, bathing everything in a brilliant, yet pleasing glow. Books both new and old lined a few shelves. King Dainn, seated in an absolutely delightful padded seat, let out a weary sigh.

When many Caribou thought of the legendary King Dainn, they thought of the devilishly handsome 19th son of a minor noble who had done the impossible and risen through the rigid tiers of Caribou society through his battle prowess and intellect, the underdog who had outwitted his higher class peers and attained the title of King, second only to the holy Emperor and equal to his fellow kings.

Many common Caribou dreamed of the wealthy and pleasure that such a title would bring, the enormous and exotic harems of voluptuous slaves, the decadent foods and drink at his disposal, the long days he must spend with a loyal harem pleasuring his every desire. For the romantics, they thought of the sheer romance possible with such a position, of the moonlit nights he must have available to spend with a male lover, of the whispers they would whisper to one another in their carefree lives.

Most however, never imagined the unholy amount of paperwork that went with coordinating an entire army and taking control of the Equestrian bureaucracy while establishing Caribou control over a freshly conquered territory.

Dainn stared down at his papers piled high on the desk in the former study of Princess Celestia, and allowed himself a pained groan. He was normally rather efficient, but this was ridiculous. Equestria had more paperwork than he ever imagined it would, and frankly he couldn’t find many reasons to destroy a system that had seemingly worked for years. Some adjustments had to be made, of course-especially those idiotic laws guaranteeing rights to females-but overall the system worked, and he was hesitant to destroy it.

This wasn’t going to be resolved anytime soon. In fact, he’d probably only see a lightening of his workload a month from now.

Most of his fellow Caribou-the ones who had never earned a damn thing in their life or who were so low on society’s hierarchy that they’d never wield any true influence-would be shocked, but he hadn’t had sex in a week. In fact, aside from the royal sun and moon whores he’d claimed as his right, he didn’t even have a harem. He found sex to be pointless, and much preferred reading text on magic or the Old Kingdom.

If he could have, he would have locked himself up in Canterlot’s library for weeks and absorbed everything he could from an entirely foreign country’s developments on magic-sure, it was tainted with a feminine touch from time to time, but some was undoubtedly fascinating-especially the work of a seeming legend in this formerly female dominated civilization known as Star Swirl the Bearded.

Dainn’s gaze went back to a thick book set on a nearby cushiony chair titled “Nature of the Soul”, and back to the papers on the dark wood desk. He sighed. He had three hours until his self mandated break or he’d fall behind schedule. Perhaps, he could return to his latest book.

Dainn stiffened as he heard three knocks at the door. He had explicit instructions to not be disturbed unless in an emergency.

“Come in,” he said.

Ivangir, a tall and gray furred Caribou and one of his lieutenants, stepped in. “Dainn? You need to come down to the front gates,” he said, slightly green.

“Why? What’s happened?” Dainn asked, grabbing his scabbard and runic gauntlets.

“The front gates have had an...incident. I’ve had my stags lockdown the area, but I need your input before proceeding. It’s rather gruesome,” he said

A weathered wagon had been left near the front gates. None of the guards knew where it had come from, and could not recall seeing anyone leave it. The contents, were of course obvious: decapitated heads.

The stench that filled the air was wet, and Dainn could feel it at the back of his throat. Sitting atop the pile was a faintly white furred head covered in gore that had been mutilated-tongue ripped out, antlers cut, eyes removed, ears gone, and at a distance Dainn could tell that no teeth remained. Dainn found no identifying characteristics left, and more skull than flesh was visible. Despite this, the head looked as if it was locked in a scream.

Ten years ago the stench would have made Dainn heave, but after his time in the Root’s maze, things like this no longer fazed him.

The fact that the heads all belonged to officers he’d sent on an expedition to the badlands well over two weeks ago, on the other hand, filled him with outrage, pain, and some guilt; he’d have to write the letters to their father’s explaining his mistake, and unlike others, he wouldn’t bother lying to them unless matters of state were at stake.

Dainn leaned over the wagon to investigate the skulls closer, but in doing so kicked something. Surprised, he found a large basket of-exotic cheeses?-and a note. Suspicious, he checked it for any traces of magic but found nothing. Cautiously, he stepped back. “You, private!” he said, pointing at a pony guard

“Um, me?” the guard asked

“Yes, what’s your name?” Dainn asked.

“Private Red Shirt, sir,” he said.

“Private Red Shirt, I need you to read this letter precisely as it says. Make no impromptu edits.” Dainn said.

The guard looked confused, but followed the order quickly enough..

Dainn didn’t care. He saw no point in risking himself further, and the note could be laced with a poison; most weren’t terribly effective when used in this form, in his experience, but this was a new land with new possibilities. The loss of a stallion would be preferable to endangering his own health or endangering his own stags.

The guard cleared his throat.

Dear King Jackass Dainn

As a resident queen of in this land, I wished to formally welcome you. You and you’ve certainly made yourself at home, haven’t you? I received your envoy, and after careful consideration, I must decline any alliance at any point in time through all eternity. It’s not your fault, it’s mine; I have a policy of not working with rapist bastards who should have been strangled in their sleep. I know, I know, it’s a bit bigoted of me, but I freely admit I’m a flawed queen.

However, I’m not without some compassion, so I returned some of the bodies of those soldiers you sent into my kingdom for proper burial. I think fertilizer would be a good use, but that’s just me. Sadly, I cannot return all of them yet, as they aren’t quite drained yet. Do be a patient boy, please? I’ll send them back soon enough, I promise.

In the meantime, please enjoy this basket of exotic cheeses. I’ve sampled them, and they are quite good. Also, consider this a declaration of total war on your kind. So long as your kind remain in Equestria, I will make Tartarus seem like a paradise to life in this land.

Hope you have a wonderful day!

Sincerely,

High Queen Chrysalis

Silence filled the area. Most guards stared in shock, while others were disturbed.

Dainn spoke with determination. “Ivangir? Summon the lieutenants and meet me in the council chambers. I do believe we have a war to plan.”

Author's Note

What's this? Another Fall of Equestria story? What the hell am I thinking? :pinkiegasp:

In all seriousness, I've had this one for a while. Was going to be part of a longer series I have since abandoned, but I had this written and with a bit of modification it works for my current setting.

Funny thing is, from what I've heard, Chrysalis was originally supposed to help the Caribou...for reasons in the original Fall group. Your guess is as good as mine as to why, but personally I don't see her ever supporting them at all for hopefully obvious reasons, and this chapter is the result.

Also really wanted to write that exotic cheeses bit.

Chapter Two: The Minotaur Ultimatum

Location: Canterlot
9 Days after Conquest of Canterlot

Canterlot, King Dainn found, was beautiful day or night despite battle damages. The last fires in the residential districts were quenched, coinciding with the end of regulatory celebratory feasts. Marble edifices shined in the sun and gleamed under moonlight, while golden rooftops caught and spread the light. Day and night, repair teams moved throughout the city, repairing blemishes to Equestria’s crown jewel, the city of light-Dainn’s true prize.

Equestria itself was without value-the workable population and resources alone made it worth twice as much as the Empire’s western provinces in Albyon, but Canterlot represented everything Dainn sought: wealth, power, beauty beyond belief, a reservoir of knowledge big enough to sate him, and a new power base outside the petty quarrels of his fellows back in the fatherland.They’d come sniffing around, eventually-in fact, he was certain King Leif was scrambling for his own army to stake his claim on the new world, but that was a concern for later.

With the establishment and integration of Equestrian and Caribou administrative centers and systems-which was still a work in progress-Dainn had decided to open up Day Court. Partially, he wanted to get a grip on what the local nobility were like, see up close what he was going to be dealing with on a daily basis for the next few years. Moreover, he wanted to establish a sense of normalcy in the populace and show himself to the citizens as an approachable and benevolent king. As much as he was loathe to admit it, Celestia had gotten that part of her rule down; prior to indoctrination, most Equestrians had genuinely loved her. His neuromancers were still arguing over why, particularly Agnar’s circle, but the fact remained and he should emulate her in this regard to maximize his rule.

After a simple private meal of oatmeal and honey, Dainn entered the throne room at 8:50. The damaged masonry from the Guard’s last stand had been repaired, mangled bodies removed, and all the stained glass windows repaired with temporary clear glass: Dainn had commissioned multiple Caribou and Pony glass makers to make replacements. The golden throne sat at the end of the room, staring down the massive doorway. Caribou elite guards, most in inscribed full platemail armor, wielding traditional runic reinforced halberds while pony guards in golden, heavily enchanted armor stood on the right proudly. Most had spears, but that weaponry was secondary to the fact that most were unicorns, and their weapons were but the first layer of weaponry they had at their disposal. Behind him followed a small, brown furred caribou stag named Birger.
Unlike other Caribou in his assault forces, Birger was a decidedly short, modest Caribou dressed in the white and silver robes common in the far northern reaches. A civilian rather than a soldier, Dainn had hired Birger on the street during one of the Barley Riots thirteen years ago, saving him from the gladiatorial pits where he’d have been fodder for the masses. For some odd reason, Birger considered this worthy of a life debt, and had vowed to employ all his accounting skills in Dainn’s name. Ivangir had once objected to such a diminutive stag following Dainn, which led to the following exchange.

“Lord, how can you have someone like him follow you? He is fit for a paper office, but to be seen next to your greatness? It’s degrading and a mark upon your great name,” Ivangir asked, fuming at the aid by Dainn’s side. Dainn valued Ivangir’s ferocity, but knew Ivangir had stepped too far. Dainn would have to put Ivangir in his place.

“1,009 247 days, 3788- 178 days, and 10,045-3 years,” Birger spoke up.

“What?” Ivangir said. “ Dainn remembered settling back in his seat with a hidden grin.

“Those are the amounts of pendallions your father, your brother, and you personally owe to the crown, all easily over the 1000 pendallion minimum required for debtor's prison, and yours is five thousand over the enslavement limit, and one hundred away from the female conversion punishment dictated for exorbitant debtors. While your father and brother have the better part of a year to pay that off, you’re well due for a payment. You should watch how much your family spends, this knowledge could land you in a lot of trouble,” Birger said conversationally, clipboard and inkwell pen in hand.

The memory and Ivangir’s subsequent furious departure and shutting up for the next three months still made Dainn smile, but this smile held nothing on the the two cages flanking the throne. If Canterlot was a conquered monument to his glory and strategic center of administration, Celestia and Luna were his crown jewels. Beautiful by pony and Caribou standards, they offered appealing aesthetic appeal and represented his entire victory far more than the thousands upon thousands of coins and tons of silver jewelery his stags had looted across Equestria. Their enslavement had given him as much power as moving his armies into Equestria proper, perhaps as much as the Heart’s alterations had.

In one cage Celestia sat, forced to the ground by numerous chains and binding ropes that restricted her movement. Rope crisscrossed under her chest and between her legs, ensuring any movement brought stimulation. Luna, on the other side wore a similar bindings, but also had heavy shackles around all four limbs, and the ropes were replaced with chains in addition to a muzzle. Both sisters had arms tied behind their backs, and were locked into positions that put their body on display. Black wing covers he hoped would be red in the next year covered their wings, while their horns were nothing more than polished stubs, the line of veins, arteries, and nerves long since severed, coagulated, dried, from the bloody stump it had once been

By the glaze in their eyes, Dainn knew they’d recently been injected with a potent combination of intoxicants and aphrodisiacs; all a step towards breaking them. Despite this, Luna tracked his progress towards the throne with deep hatred, and a muffled growl came from her cage. A guard stepped in with a stun rod, but Dainn waved him off. She wasn’t a threat behind a cage and tied up as she was. They’d tried traditional disciplinary measures with Luna; after her first escape attempt and nine injured officers, they’d moved to stun rods.

Celestia’s stare was more blank, although she acknowledged his presence with a slight turn of the head. Dainn was a bit perplexed at their continued defiance of Caribou authority and the natural order. It was a recurring problem with mares of this nation; the indoctrination only lightly touched their minds, unlike the stallions. He’d been told-repeatedly-that sculpting the minds of the stallions would be enough and structuring the spell for females was encountering unexpected difficulties, but all the same he hated leaving half the population’s pacification to traditional means. If nothing else, efficiency would drop far more than he wanted while resources were spent training them that could be better spent elsewhere.

Despite his victory well over a week ago, Dainn had yet to sit in Celestia’s throne; too much planning and organizing in between fitful bursts of sleep and shoveling food in his mouth had devoured his time. As such, he felt giddy on his way to the throne in preparation for Day Court. With a spring in his step, he took his place on the old diarchs’ throne.

Dainn promptly discovered the throne was beyond uncomfortable.

The seemingly soft velvet padding was paper thin, and disguised a hard, rigid surface covered in prickly points. The throne’s awkward proportions forced him into a rigid, attentive position. He stiffened as multiple needle like objects pricked pricked his thighs and buttocks with mild pain, nothing unbearable but more than enough to discomfort him constantly.

He hid his reaction well; neither his attendants nor the guards showed any indication of his discomfort. A sudden intake of breath drew his eye to Celestia. She stared dead ahead, her posture gave nothing away beyond the lewd appeal other Caribou and Pony stallions appreciated, but Dainn felt in his gut Celestia knew his discomfort and was laughing at him.

“My master, are you ready for the day’s judgements?” Birger asked, glancing over his clipboard and leaflet of papers.

“They can’t be worse than the nobility back home,” Dainn easily said as he tried and failed to find a comfortable position on the throne.

“I dearly hope so, shall I send for the first petitioner?” Birger asked, to which Dainn acquiesced.

The wide, golden doors at the end of the hall opened, and the guard at the door announced “Sir Gold Top and his brother Emerald Ring”. Two unicorns stepped in, dressed in fine silk suits. The left, likely Gold Top by his yellow coloration and black and yellow suit, walked in before the other gray furred Unicorn with green hair and a gray suit with green stripes up the pant legs. Between them, dragged by two leashes the brother’s held, was a blue colored mare. Her horn came to a sudden flat top an inch from her skull, the blood from the severed nerves long since dried and cleaned up. Blindfolded and collared, the two brothers dragged her into to the base of the room, her only haltingly able to follow and never fast enough for the two brothers, who themselves walked at different paces and kept pulling on her collar in sharp, jerking motions. She whimpered in obvious distress at the pulling, and tried to hurry to follow only for the other brother to pull on her leash back or forward to his position.

Dainn felt some small surprise at the distressed mare. Back in the homeland, black collar females were generally kept out of council and audience chambers entirely. Certain exceptions could be made-Celestia and Luna were evidence of that that-but most were beyond well trained, groomed females. This mare looked like they’d dragged her out of bed after a night of sex and if she weren’t blindfolded she’d likely be less than subservient. Curious as to the real business at hand, he waited for them to get close before starting,

They both bowed before him, and Gold Top spoke. “Your majesty. King Dainn the glorious, conqueror of Canterlot, savior of stallion kind-

“Bringer of the truth, rectifier of the perverse-” Emerald Ring continued.

Dainn felt his eyebrows rising more and more as the titles bestowed upon him grew by the minute. He knew he’d be showered with praises praises, and he liked a few of them- the Great and Powerful particularly appealed to him- but he’d been in Canterlot less than a month! How many titles and praises had they’d come up with? And how awful was the problem they wanted his judgement on?

“Bringer of cock dominance, glorious chef of true stallion equality-”

Thirty seconds of praises was the usual amount given to high officials, one minute to a king, two minutes to the emperor. This last detail pleased him inordinately, but this was getting ridiculous. They were at the 4 minute mark as far as he could tell and still hadn’t run out of praises. Also, why were so many of the praises related to penises? Had someone in his armies said he liked penises? He couldn’t think of any other reason for them to bring up cock so much.

“-and harbinger of the testicles of might!” Gold Top finished.

Dainn resisted the urge to say, “Are you done?” and instead inclined his head.

Gold top nodded rapidly. “My lord, ever since your glorious conquest, this problem has stirred and brewed, but I can no longer stand it! I demand a resolution to our dilemma!”

“I concur!” Emerald Ring said.”The present situation is absolutely intolerable.”

“And your dilemma is?” Dainn asked, glad the praises were over. Tomorrow, he was going to have a plaque placed outside with basic rules for audiences, one of which was a one minute limit on praises. Aside from the excessive penis oriented praises, the theatrics of his homeland’s nobility matched Canterlots, although he was eager to start solving the local nobility’s problems.

Back in the homeland, a lord entitled with dukedom and upwards in the hierarchy was required by ancient law to hear out key subject’s problems. These problems massively varied, as problems in life often do. Some were relatively mundane arguments. Two lords arguing over hunting rights in the forest splitting their holdings, and complaints of illegal logging and poachers. Others were quite serious: inheritance of both positions and holdings, murders, blood feuds, charges of theft, and such. One time a duke threatened large scale warfare against a fellow duke over convoluted line of rights to a productive silver mine in the Albion mountains. That had been a true test of his abilities to solve a conflict, and, while he hoped nothing so serious popped up this soon in his reign, he was eager to get see what Canterlot nobility valued.

“Your majesty, my slave, Sapphire Smarts, was in a relationship with me prior to your arrival, but Gold Top has contested my claim and demands she belongs to him!” Emerald Ring said.

“Liar! I have an equal claim! She belongs to me!” Gold top shouted, dragging her.

Emerald Ring snarled in disgust. “Do you see what idiocy I have to deal with? Please, tell this idiot brother of mine that she belongs to me.”

“No, she’s mine!”

Dainn resisted the urge to unleash a colossal sigh. His first petitioners were nothing more than children shouting “Mine!” over a slave of all things. “Have you considered splitting her in half?” Dainn asked, in what he considered a joking manner. As brothers, they could easily share her. They’d have to keep track of progeny, of course, but noble brothers should pool resources, rather than fight over something so mundane as a female.

The brothers didn’t say anything for a few moments before slowly nodding genuine smiles spreading on their faces. “That’s an excellent suggestion your majesty!” GoldTop said.

“I concur! Wonderful, I wish we’d thought of this sooner. Tell me, brother, would you like the top half or the bottom half?” Emerald Ring said.

“I always did prefer a good mouth or pair of tits in my prostitutes, so the top, preferably.”

“Ah, excellent! I shall get her pussy and ass and womb I suppose. Shame it won’t be put to use, but such is life.” Emerald Ring said, good naturedly.

Dainn felt at a loss of words. Had these stallions lost their sense? “You do realize cutting her in half is lethal?” he said. He intended the words as a joke, as he realized these stallions had to be in a humorous mood.

“Of course. No known method can sustain a severed pony beyond a few seconds,” Gold Top said. “But,i do think I know some gentlecolts at the mausoleum who could assist with preservation.

Emerald Ring nodded. “And I know a few taxidermy specialist-very hush hush and subtle, a good company and they normally do wild boar and the like, but I’m sure they can figure a workaround.”

The mare, Sapphire Smarts, whimpered and cried.

Birger had dropped his pencil onto his clipboard by this point. Dainn could only stare. They were serious. A female’s life held worth, particularly a female of attractive qualities and breeding age, but older or unattractive females could be useful. Laborers, caregivers, farm workers-anything needing simple tasks, they could be used for to free up stags to work in other, more difficult jobs. To talk as if they fully intended to go through with sawing a mare in half. . .

Not even the specialty houses back in the capital allowed that, and those elderly or barren females were considered fully disposable.

“You must be kidding,” King Dainn said, voice tinged with disbelief. Something had to have gone wrong with the indoctrination. Maybe it had fried their brains, or maybe the neuromancers had screwed up with their sense of morality. They couldn’t be seriously considering cutting a mare in half and necrophilia to settle a dispute.

The brothers looked at him and back at each other, before, in unison, speaking, “We never kid regarding our sister, your majesty.”
“WHAT?”

Both brothers left fuming, but accepting of Dainn’s judgement. He’d ruled them unfit to care for Sapphire Smarts, and had claimed her with the compensation of 250 bits and added her to the castle household’s hordes of cleaning maids. Back in the homeland, Dainn in no way could have gotten away with claiming a female slave as his own, particular one born of “nobility”, but these were ponies. Caribou naturally came first, and Dainn had a particular waking nightmare of the two brothers successfully reproducing with their sister.

“Birger...is that the norm in this land?” Dainn spoke in a low tone once the audience hall was empty aside from him, guards, princesses, and Birger.

“Master, I can legitimately say I have no fucking idea. I know nobles can be an eccentric lot, but this was beyond anything I’d ever seen.

“Hopefully, the next isn’t as bad,” Dainn said as the guards admitted another pair of arguing stallions.

“What is the problem, gentlecolts?” Dainn asked after the two stallions, one green stallion and one brown stallion bowed.

“He stole my tulip bulbs and put them in his garden for the upcoming Canterlot Tulip Competition!”

“Please, you can’t afford tulips of that rarity and shade of red!”

Dainn stared at the two arguing stallions, and leaned over to Birger with a whisper. “Wine, goblet, now.”

“Of course, master,” Birger said, leaving Dainn behind.

One cup later. . .

“-it is my firm belief pears should be heralded as the ultimate fruit among all natural fruits and replace apples at every brunch-”

Two cups later. . .

“-all earth ponies should wear grade B size 12 clown shoes, color red-”

Three cups later. . .

“-and that is why all profits belong to the quill maker, and not the pegusi who donated the feathers in the first place-

Four cups later. . .

“As such, unicorns of sufficient blood strength should be exempt from any and all taxes-”

The last petitioner left the hall, visibly dejected at how his reasonable request to jail his neighbor for the audacity to let his tree grow one inch over the fence line had been rejected without further comment by the glorious King Dainn.

Dainn noticed his cup was empty, and he longed for another five or ten to make the afternoon fade away but knew anymore and he’d be on the road to inebriation. A motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Celestia still held in the same rigid, provocative pose, but he could swear she had looked bizarrely satisfied before her neutral mask etched itself back on. He couldn’t fathom why for a moment, but realized she knew. Regardless of how she dealt with it, these were the same stallions she’d faced, and it was his turn to suffer their apparent stupidity.

He pulled a standard issue stun rod from his belt, which he kept next to a long dagger with a silver edge gifted to him by his father the night before his suicide and beside a small incinedary orb guaranteed to reduce four unarmored targets to ash in 12.5 seconds. Not for the first time, he marveled at just how impractical the standard issue Mk Series 2 Stun Rod was. While the runes inscribed into the pointed, black metal were marvelous from a casual glance, the power required meant a charge would be entirely expended. It would take thirty seconds to recharge, drawing upon the magic core of its wielder. In a desperate situation, that draw could exhaust the wielder further. In those thirty seconds, it was little more than a short, pointed club
. A standard spear, a short sword, hatchet, devoted club or any number of crossbows or antiquated bows would be a more viable weapon, yet it was still standard issue to issue Mk 2 stun rods to all occupying forces for one specific reason: sheer, unholy, paralyzing pain.

He brought the stun rod down on on Celestia’s shoulder. For a split second she stared. She started screaming. The ball gag did nothing to hinder the sound as it pierced the hall. Several guards shifted slightly, as if in discomfort. The electricity coursed through her, alighting every nerve with pain. She lost control of her muscles and spasmed. Luna howled, and pulled at her chains to the point they dug into her flesh in bloody lines with spreading bruises, but they held. Celestia, despite the pain it must have caused her to go against the restraints, curled in on herself in twitching agony, muscles writhing and veins bulging as every muscle in her body contracted at once.

Under most circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered to discipline her. That responsibility lie with her trainer Leug and his assistants. If they’d been alone, he wouldn’t have bothered and instead noted it as another peculiarity of her seeming intelligence, so far beyond the does of his homeland. However, she’d obviously taken pleasure in his own suffering in a setting among his guards and advisor. Someone aside from Birger (who surely noticed) , could have seen the slight smile she had in response to his lapse.
That unknown guard, pony or caribou, could spread the rumor. “Don’t you know? The slave sun princess laughs at the king! She is absolutely uncontrollable.” The damage to his reputation, as slim a possibility as it was, could be troublesome to outright deadly. Kings had been slain by ambitious lieutenants for far less a reason than an uncontrolled female, conquest prize or not.

Thirty seconds later, Celestia still spasmed, but her screams had subsided. From what he understood, that was an accomplishment, as most mares kept screaming for a minute. He idly considered stunning her again, but put his stun rod away instead. He’d made his point.

“So, that was an eventful Day Court. Do we have anyone else?” Dainn asked, hopefully. He knew he was going to limit appointments and have his officers screen the petitioners for relevant appeals, and not petty arguments over whose tree was in whose yard.

“Master, it’s only been three hours. You still have four to go.”

Dainn resisted the urge to sigh or run out of the room screaming. Instead, he sat back on the awful throne, buttocks and lower back sore as he awaited the next petitioner. Luna still howled, while Celestia was still aside from the slightest rise and fall of her chest.

Dainn’s ears went rigid at the sound of a commotion beyond the doors. Beside him, Birger stiffened and stared intently at the doors. The guards, first the Caribou and the ponies who followed their example tensed and drew weapons. A few unicorns horns ignited, and balls of flame coalesced in the air around several.

The second tallest being Dainn had ever seen stepped through the door. A guard in gold army-a pegusus-stood behind him, hands up as if ready to stop him but hesitant to approach something so huge. Further in the hall, Dainn would have felt his heart drop at over a hundred other nobles waiting for an audience, but the being occupied the majority of his attention.

It stood over seven feet tall, a full head taller than most of his stags and easily tall enough to look Dainn’s lieutenant Ivangir in the eye. His coat of gray fur was short, and thinned around the chest to gray skin beneath. Atop his head he had to sharp, pointed horns, making him seem larger than he was and large enough to rival the aged racks some elderly Caribou maintained. Most impressive of all was his rippling muscles. White tunic and black trousers or not, the muscles bulged out and, combined with its strong jawline, would make more than a few stags Dainn knew salivate.

Dainn felt an intense desire to see one of these in the gladiatorial pits back home, and decided he would find one to fight in the Equestrian pits once the Council sent representatives to establish the first pits in Equestria.

Before, Dainn had only learned of the beings in the Guide to Equestria provided in the libraries at the Crystal Empire. He now realized the books failed to do them justice, nor had the dossiers provided to by Shining’s agents.
The minotaur stared at the much shorter guards ready to eviscerate and burn him, and snorted. Dainn noticed the nearest guard’s halberd trembling in his hand, and realized he had to act before someone did something stupid.

“Now now, I do believe Ambassador Strong Arm has every right to visit me during Day Court,” Dainn said, loudly to his guards. An ambassador certainly had more right than the overfunded and overdressed children panicking outside, at least. “Stand down, and allow the ambassador through.”

Dainn felt a tinge of giddy excitement course through him. Dealing with an ambassador of a foreign nation and species was going to be an entirely new experience. While ambassadors weren’t entirely known to the Caribou, the only foreign ambassadors his people routinely interacted with were the eastern dragon enclaves. And those interactions boiled down to not jumping when anywhere from a hundred to a thousand showed up outside a major settlement with a declaration of a desire to trade out of absolutely nowhere. His people had gradually grown used to the mysterious traders who came and went as they pleased, outside a few isolated instances of armed conflict.

Giddy anticipation consumed Dainn because he was dealing with an foreign species to his own-sure, they were bipedal, but minotaurs were odd: half hairless, half furred, five fingered hands to the normal four fingered hands (for ponies and Caribou at least), massive horns, size matched only by adolescent dragons or the eastern one eyed giants, and more. Moreover, Strong Arm was his key to dominating the entire region from the frozen tip of the Crystal Empire to the far western reaches of Saddle Arabia..

Unlike his fellows back in the Republic of Minos, Strong Arm was exposed to the initial indoctrination pulse. While the heart, unfortunately, couldn’t be moved, its power to amplify neuromancy was unbelievable. If Strong Arm had been in the city, he’d surely fallen under the same indoctrination which brought all of Equestria’s stallions to Dainn’s side. Through the ambassador, he could get a hold of Minos’s other leaders, and his neuromancers could reeducate the Minotaurs into a subject state with a proper set of ethics.

Moreover, in dominating Minos, they would gain access to the reaches past the southern tip of Equestria and the straight between Minos and Equestria proper-gold, silver, and platinum from Saddle Arabia, exotic slaves and animals and spices from Zebrica, and the verdant fields of Maretonia.This was not to mention the mountains of iron and copper Minos harvested from its mountains every year. This was not even to mention securing the Minotaur population as subjects to the Caribou Empire.

Dainn had seen his people’s future in the new world, and he fully intended to make sure he was at the forefront in claiming it.

The minotaur shoved past the armored guard who had gotten ready to try and grab him, sending the pegusus sprawling to the ground if he hadn’t caught himself by fanning out as he caught himself. Dainn noted the hostility and aggression the minotaur radiated off, but explained it away as a racial trait. Most of his books were adamant on aggression in Minotaur society.

“Welcome, Strong Arm,” Dainn said pleasantly, finding the minotaur larger up close than he’d initially thought. “I apologize for the rough treatment my guards gave you, but if you must understand, you came unannounced and-”

“I stand before you on behalf of the Senate of Minos to declare our ultimatum!” Strong Arm said, loudly to the point most would consider it shouting.

Dainn could only stare, stunned at the interruption. He was used to equally ranked Caribou interrupting him in arguments and in private friends doing so, but never from one who was indoctrinated, and never from one of the lesser races. It wasn’t supposed to be psychologically possible in indoctrinated individuals.

“Nine days ago your people overran Equestria. An emergency session of the Minos Senate was called the day after, and Councilor Irons relayed the following demands,.” The minotaur pulled a cylinder from his shirt, unrolled a scroll, and began reading.

“1. All Caribou forces are to withdraw from Equestria.

Princesses Celestia, Luna, Cadance, and Twilight Sparkle are to be returned their positions within the Equestrian government, alongside any and all deposed officials.

All Equestrians enslaved by the Caribou are to immediately be freed.

3a. All mental holdings on Equestrian citizens are to be released, and further use of mental magics banned on territory belonging to Equestria, the Republic of Minos, or the Tribal Confederation of Zebrican States hereafter referred to as the Triple Alliance

The Caribou Empire is to sign a nonaggression pact with Equestria, the Republic of Minos, and the Tribal Confederation of Zebrican States.

The Caribou Empire is to pay reparations to Equestria in the form of 100,000,000 bits to the Triple Alliance for damage to the psyche and lost revenue in addition to damages sustained during fighting.

Failure to comply with any of these demands within two weeks of delivery on the third of Moonshine, Era of Harmony, or endangerment of official messengers shall result in the seizure of all foreign assets and a declaration of war with the Caribou Empire from all members of the Republic of Minos .

Strong Arm carefully rolled the scroll back up, back into its cylinder, and carefully tossed it at Dainn’s hooves.

Strong Arm looked to the wide eyed Celestia and Luna. “Celestia, Luna,”he addressed both, one at a time as he looked them in the eyes. “Hold on. You’ve long been friends to Minos, and we have not forgotten.” Strong Arm said, voice much softer and warm.

Celestia and Luna stared, wide eyed. Tears brimmed in Celestia’s eyes, while hope etched itself onto Luna’s face, alongside a savage glee in no way marred by the gags.

Strong arm looked back to Dainn. “Good day, sir,” Strong Arm said, putting enough acid into his tone to melt through steel.

Numb, Dainn watched Strong Arm march out of the hall, his heavy hooves resounding with each step. When he reached the massive doors, rather than wait for the guards to activate the lever to mechanically open it, he wrenched the door open with a horrific screech, casually displaying a level of strength few Earth Ponies ever matched and strength Caribou might find once or twice a generation.

“Master? What happened?” Birger asked

Dainn didn’t respond. Instead, he was rapidly coming to one inescapable conclusion.

Multiple things raced through his mind.

He’d counted on at least a month before a sluggish response from other nations. In part, this was because Equestria was a major power in the area, and to be taken over from within by the Caribou would be so shocking as to slow and discourage a hostile response. Dainn wasn’t naive enough to believe conflict wouldn’t arise, but ideally most other nations would be too hesitant to respond by the time the rest of the Caribou army and the indoctrination corps arrived and formulated plans of attack while also giving him time to consolidate his position in Equestria, incorporate its infrastructure into his own, and entrench his forces

That plan was dead.

Dainn was not a neuromancer himself, but knew most of the basic techniques behind their art. Other kings loved their gigantic ships, or beam batteries or runic knights or blood magics, but Dainn loved neuromancers for their, in his opinion, most useful ability: Indoctrination. Through manipulation of the mind, they could turn enemies on themselves, sow chaos in the ranks, learn valuable information, steal technology, craft perfectly loyal spies able to fit in among the enemy. Furthermore, an indoctrinated populace should be virtually incapable of revolt. Their love for the ruling Caribou would overturn any negative feelings outside periods of extreme duress, and thoughts of rebellion or outwardly hostile acts towards ruling Caribou should never enter their minds.

This process usually took a period of weeks to accomplish on a single individual, but the Crystal Heart had amplified the neuromancer core’s abilities a hundred fold, and enabled them to reach every pony in Equestria at once, and should have affected everyone regardless of species.

Strong Arm was not indoctrinated.

Dainn didn’t know how, or why, but he knew in his gut Strong Arm was not among their ranks. Discarding the extreme hostility Strong Arm displayed which he’d initially dismissed as natural Minotaur aggression, Strong Arm’s delivery of the ultimatum cemented his defiance. Had his indoctrination been complete, he would have mentioned the ultimatum but offered ways to circumvent and reeducate his people. He was in Equestria, and had by all reports been in the city when the indoctrination pulse from the Crystal Empire activated. Yet, he showed no signs of subservience-in fact, Dainn knew he’d have murdered all of them if given the slightest opportunity.

Dainn’s plans were dead. In their place, he had a burgeoning war on the horizon with a species who, in at least some instances, could resist indoctrination amplified by the most powerful artifact Dainn had found in Equestria, something straight out of the Age of the gods as far as Dainn was concerned.

Dainn wanted nothing more than to hold his head and groan. aloud. Everything had gotten so complicated with this new factor he had to deal with. Maybe he could sic one of the other kings on Minos while he formulated a new strategy? He’d have to write several dozen letters to his contacts back in the Homeland. . .

Instead, he privately thanked the gods drinking was an embraced part of Caribou culture and asked, “Birger? Cancel Day Court for the time being and bring me another bottle of wine-I don’t care which, and summon Agnar to my chambers and arrange a meeting later with the lieutenants still in the city. We have much to discuss, and need to move the plans up.” His plans for the changelings were much more pressing, and he needed to move plans forward weeks if not months in advance.

“As you wish, young master.” Birger said. “May I inquire what shall be done for the good Minotaur ambassador and his embassy?”

Dainn thought for a moment, unsure how to deal with a foreign power’s messenger, but decided it was better safe than sorry. “Deport them, I suppose. If they resist, burn it to the ground.”

Birger nodded wisely at his decision, and many of the guards found his solution practical. If they resist, burn them to the ground. What a practical solution, they thought.

Author's Note

I'm alive! And this story is not dead.

Fooled you, didn't I?

Half this chapter's been sitting in a gdoc for the past six months, and I just haven't had the energy or inspiration to finish it up with university and work bogging me down. Still, I'm not done with this series, and I'll try and post something more regularly from now on...at least, not once every ten months or so.

This chapter is where it also gets confusing. I'm not writing this chronologically, and this is an anthology of shorts. So this chapter technically takes place before Chapter One...I'm just not sure how to mess with the chapter layout to showcase that. I will be keeping a list of chapters in chronological order in the description, though.

Finally, I am curious to know whether you guys and gals find my attempt to characterize Dainn as something more than a racist sexist caricature of a viking interesting or not. I don't intend for him to be a big main character in this series, but he will show up every now and then-he is the villain, after all, and I intend for him to have his own ark throughout the series.

Anyway, hope you enjoy, and if please comment. I feed off comments, and grow stronger with them!

Chapter 3: It's Finished

King Dainn of the Caribou Empire, former lord-master of the recently conquered kingdom of Equestria, huddled behind the shattered stone wall of his keep as siege spells rained down around him. Most of the Caribou body guards he had were dead. Most of his army was dead. He’d last seen his lieutenant—-an infamous giant stag renowned for his “bitch breaking” ways—being stabbed to death by three enraged mares while two minotaurs held him by his broken arms and legs. They hadn’t needed to as his limbs were shattered, but they had clearly wanted to. Worst thing was, Dainn couldn’t blame them. Ivar was a horrible stag with no compassion whatsoever who’d killed just as many slaves as he’d ever had, and more than a few male lovers.

There were many thoughts racing through Dainn’s head as he suddenly sprinted for the next bit of cover, retreating even though there was hardly any place left to retreat. How had it come to this? If he were another stag, he’d rage and blame everyone else, except he wasn’t delusional. He knew exactly how this had all happened. The mind control spell, the reworking of the Crystal Heart to broadcast it across Equestria, had never affected mares at all. He’d known this, and underestimated them, thinking they were like the braindead does his kind had created from the once intelligence Female Caribou population. Then the Changelings started assassinating officers and bombing barracks. Afterward, the Minotaur and Zebra coalition smashed the other invasion fleets from the homeland and killed or captured almost every stag to the last.

Honestly, the entire invasion was seeming like a bad idea. A continent of loot and possible glory that was little more than a honeyed badger’s den waiting to rip apart the unfortunate souls who reached for it. Even then, he could have likely handled it. He was a genius, and he had the most effective indoctrination spells imaginable. His enemy’s strength would be his, with time. Except as it turns out, no one fucking remembered sexually transmitted diseases were a thing. It hadn’t been an issue back home as those were easily cured, and it hadn’t shown up for six months. Even then, back home a STD would rarely cause more than an unpleasant rash. Except the local STDs apparently really liked Caribou, because they caused stags’ dicks to start rotting the fuck off.

A minotaur, its armor gleaming in the sunlight, stepped out from behind a crumbling stone wall with its gravity enhanced hammer raised to smash him into paste. Dainn, rather than run, flowed around the Minotaur. Its massive strike cratered the ground, but by that point he was already flipping over him. A magic rune, planted onto the Minotaur’s neck bracing, glowed before exploding. It fell to the ground, dead and missing most of its upper torso.

Dainn had developed the spell himself, after learning nothing fucking stopped enraged minotaurs other than dismemberment or total decapitation. And they had an instinctual blood rage that made mind control an unreliable prospect on the best of days. His forces had gotten a taste of it in the Minos Embassy siege when one Minotaur held off an entire platoon for half an hour as he set about demolishing the block, but it hadn’t sunk in until they tried invading the Minotaur homeland and found they were all like this—literally millions of beings who can bend steel with their bare hands, who had the largest industry base in this part of the world, and who all could go into a berserker fury at a moment’s notice. Losses were catastrophic against their forces, to say the least.

Dainn, seeing a Pegasus swooping at him from a broken skylight, lashed out with a runic chain wrapped around his arm. The Pegasus dodged back from its spear thrust, but the chain followed, wrapping around her. He then swung the thin mare into the already approaching Earth pony he knew was behind him. Whose presence alone meant everyone else in the fortress was dead. Lovely.

He had one chance out of this. This was his last citadel in Equestria. He’d been intending to escape by ship, but then the Minos blockade smashed that chance to pieces, although his ship had remained. But there was an experimental portal he’d been developing. Meant to get reinforcements from the homeland, it had turned out spectacularly useless due to power constraints, but if the rune masters had done their job, then it should have one charge in it to get him out of this death trap.

He ran past dozens of his own slain guards and slipped by patrols already eagerly setting his hidden citadel on fire. He’d be insulted they were ruining his hard work, but in all honesty he was impressed with their dedication to burning down a non-flammable structure. Two hours before it’d been a clear day. Now it was a hellish red glow and unbearable heat rolled everyway making him froth, but he couldn’t stop now.

Honestly, Dainn was a prodigy. He knew this. He had used his abilities and knowledge to take over Equestria, but even he was being pushed. A Unicorn teleported in front of him, half a dozen floating blades of ice rotating around him. Dainn calmly exploded the ground beneath him, obscuring the two of them as Dainn ran into the research building.

There, surrounded by dead guards, was the runic circle—his gateway out of here. Multiple ponies and zebra alchemist looked up in alarm at his entrance, probably more surprised he was alive than anything else. A smoke rune instantly disrupted their line of sight with Dainn. He was almost out of charge with his runic gauntlets, but he only needed to touch the runic circle to get out.

He leaped into the circle amidst alarmed cries, and then all was dark. Dainn breathed a sigh of relief, hoping beyond hoping it was over. It wasn’t, of course. The STDs ravaging his homeland likely had destroyed the culture he once knew, but that honestly didn’t bother him overly much. Caribou culture was stagnant, cruel, and overly sexualized. Even before realizing almost everything he knew was a lie, he’d known his culture was stupidly repressive.

He didn’t even like sexually touching others, although he had partaken occasionally to keep up appearances because not doing so was punishable by being turned into a damn doe to be used by those who would keep up appearances. As a king he could push this somewhat, but too much and he’d be stabbed in the back by his own subordinates, and then likely raped by them as was proper and forced to bear their bastards. The thought made him want to snarl at his own people’s utter stupidity. Back home they’d say an army of mares was impossible. Not only had he seen one here, he’d seen several slaughter his stags and would gladly have traded every one of his stags for those armies if given the chance.

His reluctance to partake in the culturally demanded orgies with slaves had likely kept him from being debilitated by the STD collectively known as Crotch Rot. If it wasn’t for how badly it destroyed his forces, he’d almost be fascinated with how the disease’s incubation period ensured almost every stag had caught it and been bed ridden within six months.

Still, back home he should be able to establish some order. Create a basic resistance that’d last until the Coalition came knocking to smash them down, but by that point he should have been able to disappear. Glory was gone, loot was too. He’d probably take to living in the ice flows of the far north, but it was better than nothing. As the darkness enveloped him, Dainn sighed in relief. It was over.

“Found you,” a demonic voice said in his ear, before he was suddenly hurled into the light. Wearing a chicken costume.

Scrambling, Dainn realized he was totally disarmed in his new apparel. And standing on a cloud. Before him, on a throne of chocolate, was a certain draconoquis. The other reason the Caribou had lost horribly.

If the STDs, the coalition of allied races—Minotaurs, Zebra, and Gryphons among several other minor factions—the famine caused by the mutilating of the female populace to have no notable abilities which led to catastrophic grain harvest failures across the continent were bad enough, then the Avatar of fucking Chaos had ensured his forces and the Caribou empire was screwed.

“There you are; I’ve been looking in every closet for you but you just weren’t there! Rude one, aren’t you?” he said, sipping ketchup. The snake like body hurt him to even look at, and the mismatched features hurt Dainn’s sense of aesthetics.

Dainn knew in that moment he had lost. It was oddly releasing, in a way knowing he had no hope of survival now.

Discord was not something he had planned for, nor with all the resources in the world could have planned for. Right when the Coalition touched down on Equestrian mainland leaving the shattered 2nd-10th fleets and expeditionary forces captured or dead, Discord had returned from his interdimensional vacation visiting eldritch relatives in the Warp. Dainn knew this because he had received a letter alongside the one he regularly got from Queen Chrysalis (which came with a high ranking officer’s decapitated head and a box of cheeses Every. Single. Time.) The letter had explained Discord was upset with the state of things. Then the elements of harmony disappeared from their cells. Then the Princesses. Then his personal escape ship that was hidden and cloaked in a secret harbor ended up in Canterlot crashed into the meeting hall and covered in fornicating chocolate bunnies that exploded into hydrochloric acid when any stag got too close.

Honestly, his remaining forces that might have held the Coalition off for a month were defeated within 24 hours with Discord turning their weapons to noodles or teleporting entire armies around. Apparently, the treatment of the Element of Kindness had irked Discord.

“So…I’ve lost. What now?” Dainn said, standing on a cloud only held stable by Discord’s magic, stripped of gear, in a chicken suit. The message was obvious; his life was in Discord’s hands.

“You know; I’ve thought about that. A lot. You see, you’ve annoyed me greatly. You trashed my home, you caused the unpleasant kind of Chaos, and then you tormented the princesses. I normally approve of the latter, but you went too far,” Discord said, idly looking at his teacup which started wiggling and trying to escape him. “You went and hurt dear Fluttershy.” The skies around him darkened with untold power and madness welled in his eyes, a madness enhanced by sheer, unyielding, unholy rage that made Dainn collapse to his knees from the sheer pressure alone.

Looking at it from a certain perspective, Dainn got it now. The Caribou culture never placed value in females beyond their ability to do work, please masters, and bear young, but after being in Equestria, he knew his kind’s culture was a piece of stupid shit. He’d thought it insane at first how the mares acted, but now he realized that’s because they were every bit as intelligent as males. It was his kind that had done this to their females, turned them into subservient fuck dolls that followed orders with no complex thought in their minds. How long had they been selectively bred that way until nothing was left? How long had his kind worked to warp half their damn race that should have been partners walking step in step into the future? Of course, that probably led to a deterioration in stags too, not that anyone noticed until him. In fact, Dainn was likely a spectacular aberration in normal Caribou thought patterns and intelligence.

This only meant he now understood what Discord was getting at. The princesses weren’t disobedient does, they were people. People he, to keep up appearances, had violated, tortured, and worse. Only for neither to never break. Luna, in fact, had successfully killed multiple stags who tried to have their way with her. Celestia hadn’t killed any, but had long left most feeling ashamed of themselves with even a look he still had trouble comprehending.

Dainn wouldn’t deny it. He was a monster, pure and simple. He’d let this happen. He could have turned this around, could have let the suffering end, but he’d taken too long to realize everything he knew was stupidly idiotic, that his entire life’s work was worth a wagonload of shit. The fact that his culture had embraced this insanity meant nothing to him because he was as much a part of it for letting it all happen.

“I thought about turning you into a fish and dropping you into a pin full of hungry megalo-krakens, tossing you into the nearest bottomless hole to let you starve or die of dehydration, to just take you before the nearest group of ponies and let them beat you to death, but...you realize you were beyond stupid, beyond cruel, haven’t you?’ Discord said. The tea cup escaped and jumped to its death far below.

Dainn nodded. He was not delusional and could put together the evidence. This entire venture, from beginning to end, had shown him so much—the idiocies of his own culture, how he had been so wrong about the world. Not only wrong, but everything he knew in his life, in his culture, in his people, was irreparably wrong that it’d take an act of the Gods to fix it by now, otherwise just burn it all and move forward. But it was over now. His crimes were numerous and any court in this part of the world would likely have him hung.

“I think I know what I’m going to do with you,” Discord said suddenly. Dainn stiffened.

“What would that be?” he said, with no emotion. He’d long lost rage, panic, fear, at this point. There was nothing left with him.

“You see; I know how things go beyond our walls. There’s eyes on the outside, watching us right now, judging us for everything we do. And let me tell you…they hate you. You are the embodiment of the Caribou, the rapist monsters with no logic to them or their actions beyond a need to fuck and dominate anything they don’t understand, to mutilate and torture and rape until everything is theirs; born from a sad twisted fantasy that should never have saw daylight. Those eyes want me to rip you apart, to shred you, to toss you in a volcano, to come up with every unimaginable torture…” Discord said, looking to the skies and waving at nothing. “But, I think I know the best way to handle this. To handle the abomination that is your story. Killing you just leaves a world devastated behind, mares, stallions, foals left traumatized by your people that will leave a scar for centuries on the magical kingdom once known as Equestria. But I can fix all of this, make it so everyone can have their happy ending.”

Something in Dainn froze, a fear he thought lost awakening. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s simple. I’m rewriting this story,” Discord said, and held up his eagle’s talon. In the light, the mismatched limb looked like the hand of a God holding up the sun. Then, he snapped his talon.

SNAP

Command Prompt

Delete_FoE_YearOfMiseryAndHope.exe

Initiate_Tea_Party.exe

Fluttershy blinked, feeling dazed for a moment as the light blinded her. All around her, birds sang joyously in the beautiful sunlight as lazy clouds slowly rolled by, fluffy like cotton candy.

“Oh my dear Fluttershy, are you alright?” Discord asked, putting down his cup of tea.

“Oh goodness me, I don’t know what just happened. It’s like I got lost in a dream all of a sudden,” Fluttershy said, blinking and scratching her head with her hoof. Wait, hoof? Why yes, she always had hooves. Why wouldn’t she?

“Oh it happens to the best of us. I get lost in a dream every night! Luna usually has to chase me out with a broom,” Discord said, chuckling. “Cucumber sandwich?” he offered her.

“Yes please,” Fluttershy said, taking the offered sandwich with a smile. Perhaps she was just feeling off today? That had to be it. But, at least she had a lovely tea party to continue with one of her best friends in the world.

Discord then looked at you. “Before you ask—yes, this is how it should have ended. Now, please, scoot. I want a little privacy here. The author’s note should be rambling enough for you if you want more, so go!” Discord said, before snapping his Talon and—

User_Interface_fimfiction_Story-FoEYearOfMisery&Hope has been hidden by Administrator $&#*?

Author's Note

First thing I've published in years, and it's this, huh?

Not even sure why I wrote this. I know it's not my usual quality, but I felt a need to cap this story off. So much anger went into this story, ideas I thought to express to show how disgusted I was with the Fall of Equestria setting, and yet...

It all faded. The Fall of Equestria stories are rotten husks now, left behind with most having moved on. I have too. Been writing original fiction, some fanfiction elsewhere, but this series has been far from my mind. But...I felt a need to finish this.

I thought of a lot of ways to end this. I'd originally intended an epic million word length story showing a believable Caribou empire occupying Equestria and how they were eventually kicked out through a year of attrition, warfare, tragedy, heroes, and more, but.... this series wasn't worth that. I'm not sure it was even worth what I wrote for it in this rushed chapter I'm throwing out.

I thought about killing Dainn in a lot of ways in this story. DIscord's rant is pretty much a reflection of my thoughts. In a Fall of Equestria story, there's no happy ending. Every single female character caught by the Caribou was violated, raped, and tortured repeatedly. Stallions were brainwashed. Thousands, hundreds of thousands-would have died, and then there's the question of what to do with such a toxic culture that has reduced its females to a barely sapient level in its fetishization of rape and domination.

There really weren't many ways to end this on a positive note. So I took the easy way out-a Discord fueled, fourth wall breaking Deus Ex Machina. It's not a great ending. But it's something to end my involvement in this series.

I might write another Sunset Shimmer story, might not. I have no idea.

I know this chapter probably isn't that great. But oh well. I have no desire to go back and revise a story like this when there are much worthier things to get out. But here it is. It's done.