In a cave that is neither here, nor there, an exile sits on a polished black basalt throne, it's colour the very same as his soul. Or coat, whichever you prefer. He gazed at the steam rising from one of the many numerous magical contraptions in the room. This one happened to be a water fountain. In the vapour he saw flashes of images: a head of flaming hair coloured like the setting sun, A mismatched amalgamation of animals sitting atop a throne of his own, a darkened umbra unicorn at war, even an aphid queen at a wedding. He grit his teeth, and smashed his hoof down into the water fountain. Sending it cascading into the walls. Into The Darkness itself. 'foolish miscreants' he thought, 'messing with forces they can't even begin to understand.' In the back of his mind, a voice echoed, a voice as smooth as silk, If chocolate could talk, and wanted to corrupt your very ideas, it would speak with this voice:
'oh, but you were a... "foolish miscreant" once, were you not?'
The Exile ignored him... as he always did. His mind was his last bastion against the encroaching Darkness. He would show no reaction as he always did, he would be alone, like he had been for millennia.
'Are you even hearing yourself? You sound like a Shakespony play! Seriously: bastion, encroaching, "miscreants"? WHO EVEN USES THOSE WORDS!?'
The Exile bowed his head, he would not allow The Darkness's words to achieve a reaction, for if he does, all is lost. he will have succumbed. Like all of his friends already had.
'To be fair, you were right in saying you've always been alone. No wonder your wife betrayed you. Speaking of: I don't know why you got so bothered by that... she was ugly, I guess you could say that this was one case where opposites did not attract.'
The Exile sank further into his twisted, misshapen throne. As polished as glass, and twice as sharp. His eyes that had seen so much, couldn't see anymore. He needed a new vision, a new goal, but after all the centuries of torment, and pain, he was too tired to think of one. After all these years of self - imposed exile, he needed to be free. He wanted to spread his wings, to use his magic to teleport away from here, to use his earth pony strength to run from his problems. But he couldn't. He was stuck. In a cave that he couldn't get out of... without the elements of harmony that is. He didn't know where they disappeared to after he last used them. But they certainly weren't inside the cave.
'I can feel your anger, your loathing, your disgust' The voice whispered, In a tone that sounded like velvet being rubbed the right way. 'but it doesn't have to be that way, I can help you... I can take it all away, give you better memories, I'll even add in a friend or two! And all you need to do is surrender yourself to me. Be selfish for once.'
The Exile raised his head, the vertebrae cracked and popped. He sensed that this was a turning point. A choice was to be made here. He dared to speak, and his voice obeyed: "I'm... not sure. What would happen if I refused?" his voice ushered forth. dry, like crunchy autumn leaves swept about by the wind. Not at all like he remembered, it cracked at least three times! There was almost nothing left of the strong, commanding tone of the King who had stopped wars by issuing a command, of the general who had routed an enemy with one command, of the loyal friend who could bring a smile to faces with one word. His voice was old, and weak. Like him.
'What happens if you refuse? that snide voice returned, this time like velvet rubbed the wrong way: Well, then I'll eventually win over you anyways. It's a win - win. For me at least.'
The Exile looked down at his hooves, and felt more vertebrae pop. He looked back up. At The Darkness that surrounded him, close enough that he could almost feel it. Or at least as close to feeling an immaterial, abstract concept as somepony can come. "Fine" he called out. "I accept your deal, there's no point even going over the fine pr-" His voice cracked again. It made him seem weak. He hated it.
The Darkness cackled at him. Looking at the silly, little pony who had tried for so long to deny a God what he wanted. At the silly little pony who thought he had a Choice in the matter. At the silly, little, Breakable pony who thought he could beat him... And kept on laughing. It rose and fell, an echoing crescendo of towering sound. crashing around the cave, and at the end of all that laughter... That silly, little pony was laughing too.
"Forgive me, it has been quite a long time since I've had a good old laugh." The King proclaimed,. still fighting back giggles. "And yours' is infectious."
'Err... right. so, back to our deal?' The voice of a "pre - owned" car salespony sprung up.
"Of course, of course. naturally..." his voice trailed off, he seemed lost in thought. Finally, he was jolted back into consciousness and said: "So... what new memories will you give me?"
'Ohhh... some of this and some of that. I'll just keep your real memories and... enhance them. By which I mean that I'll make them happier, probably make you feel less depressed, And more confident. I'm sure you'll get all the mares.'
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm stuck inside a magical labyrinth, that I cannot escape from..." The Exile dryly comments. "Barring that, I'm sure I would Totally 'get all the mares.' As you so eloquently put it." The Exiles' gaze is brighter now, It's clear he's already made up his choice. The darkness has him in it's tendrils, and isn't going to let him go.
'So... are you ready to make the deal?' the voice seeming more like honey now, filled with the sugary energy of excitement at finally beating his enemy.
"Sure, let's get this over with, before I change my mind." The Man said.
The Darkness reaches out: a hazy, flickering, pink flame extends above it's tendril of mist. A black hoof meets the pink flame, and everything fades to black.
