Cutie Mark Conquerorsby SaintThunderChaptersA QueenA KingA GoddessA QueenThe Everfree: a dark, wild forest filled with darker, wilder things. It was once the great capital of Equestria, located at the country’s center, decimated by the claw of Discord, Lord of Chaos and Disharmony, during his reign over ponykind. The earth and sky within its boundaries followed no laws of magic, no sense of order; a lingering touch of the dark lord. Even so, in the deep wood where terrible monsters dwell, one filly travels alone. With her cream yellow fur stark against the dreary browns and greys of the gnarly trees, Applebloom should have been fearing for her life. But the forest did not scare her, no; she had walked this path a hundred times. Right now, all she was scared of was running out of time. “Darned rabbit stampede!” The filly galloped down the dirt road, hopping over roots and ducking under branches. “Zecora’ll tan mah hide for this!” She pressed onward, pushing her little legs to their limits. Ducking, jumping, and weaving past branches and brambles, almost made her feel a little better. Maybe Applejack would let her participate in the rodeo this year. Then a bright green flash, followed by a roaring explosion of sound, robbed Applebloom of her wits and senses. She screamed (at least, she felt herself screaming) as her hooves tangled up and pitched her body forward. The filly slid along the path, face first, and collided with what felt like a tall, skinny log. That is, until the supposed “log” picked her up by the end of her tail. “Tch. Too small.” Applebloom vision refocused; she wished it hadn’t. As her captor lifted her up, all she could see was the hole-marred black chitin that was so characteristic of the most feared species in Equestria. “You’ll have to do, my little pony.” Her voice was regal, but raspy, as if she’d been dehydrated for years. “A queen does not wait. Revenge does not wait.” “Y-you’re…” The filly strained to speak, her breaths coming in short bursts. “you’re—“ A green pasty liquid found itself covering her mouth. It quickly hardened, silencing her. Similar fluid tied her legs, and Applebloom was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. She watched as green flame engulfed the creature, morphing into something… somepony horrifyingly familiar. Then the changeling laughed as she removed Applebloom’s ribbon from her mane and tied it into her own. “Foal. I am you.” A KingThe Crystal Empire, a haven in the Frozen North. A thousand years ago, its inhabitants were slaves to the Shadow King Sombra, and the land was filled with the darkest of magics, blackening the crystals that towered over the city. Today, it was the radiant, shining center of magical studies, as well as the current host of the Equestria Games. For one filly, it was the second most boring scooter ride she had ever ridden. Scootaloo zoomed from house to house, street to street, looking for an incline. The scenery had gotten old about a few blocks back, and she was desperate for some action. “Come ON, already,” she said. “No broken carts? No shady alleyway shortcuts? What kind of city doesn’t have a bad side?” A sharp turn right down the next street led her to the outer rim of the Empire, where she could see the hills and fields of emerald grass stretch into the horizon… save one small, white dot in the distance. Scoots smirked. “Looks like we’re going off-road.” Wings a-buzzing, Scootaloo made for the curious white speck. In less than no time, she was close enough to see that it was a frozen patch of ground. Lying in the center was “A horn? Eww.” It was a nasty old thing, the lone, ownerless horn. All black and red, curved and sinister. Scootaloo’s skin tingled, as if she’d been shaved and thrown into a tub of ice water. Dismounting her scooter, she slowly approached the horn, stopping just a few inches short of it. With the edge of her hoof, she poked the severed appendage. The horn ominously rolled over. “Huh,” said the orange filly. “I thought for sure that it would like, explode or something.” Her fears assuaged, Scootaloo picked the horn up in earnest and tossed into the air, catching it as it fell down. She held it up to the sun, and a bit of red light shone on her face. “Whoa, it’s kinda see through. Guess it’s just a crystal that LOOKS like a horn.” She put it to her forehead. “Hehe, I’m an alicorn!” she giggled. Striking a regal pose, she yelled, “Fear me, for I am the GreaAAAAAAAAAAGGHH!!!” A thousand needles of pain stabbed through the filly’s head, filling her mind with visions of a stallion, smoke gray fur clad in silver armor, green eyes blazing with purple smoke, a crown upon his head. He stood tall on the highest point of his castle; spires of black crystal radiating with his dark magic. Below him, thousands of ponies, features hidden beneath masks of iron and obsidian, knelt before their king. With a word, they would march for him. Die for him. Kill for him. He need only say it, and the world would fear his name. The vision ended, but the pain did not. Scootaloo writhed on the icy ground, frozen blades of grass stabbing into her back, as the horn released its magic into her. Am I dying? she asked. I don’t wanna die. I’m too young to die! There’s so much I didn’t do yet… I still… I need… to… A final surge of dark magic and Scootaloo lay still, the horn fully embedded in her skull. But she was not dead. That would’ve been too merciful. Scootaloo’s eyes fluttered open, blazing green with fury. “My… empire…” A GoddessCanterlot, the seat of power of Equestria, and home to the largest population of unicorns in the country. A city made up of only the famous and elite, Canterlot was the place to be for up and coming fashions. Unfortunately for its residents, this regal and elegant appearance was a mere façade; beneath the very noses of the princesses, crime runs rampant: illegal magical concoctions being sold in dark alleyways, various organizations extorting money from local businesses, ponies disappearing from their homes… surely it was no place for fillies at night. But there one goes, down those dark alleyways and empty streets, to a place even she does not know. “Stupid Rarity,” pouted Sweetie Belle. Tears in her emerald eyes, she galloped through the city, hooves clip-clopping on the cobblestones, kicking aside moldy fruit and discarded cans. “You PROMISED.” The strength in her legs began to wane, and she slowed to a trot, then stopped to catch her breath. The night air was frigid, nearly freezing Sweetie’s tears to her face. She must’ve made quite a racket; yet the neighborhood around her was dead silent, lit only by a moon shrouded in clouds. She could see now that she was in some sort of town square. The marble houses lining its perimeter were blanketed in shades of shadow, and the wind was the only voice that could be heard. But there, in the center, glittering in the moonlight, stood a stone fountain. It was rough and gray; drab compared to the other stoneworks littering Canterlot’s streets. There was moss creeping along its cracked visage, as if the earth threatened to reclaim it. The water flowing from its three bowls, however, shone like liquid silver. "Pretty…” Sweetie dipped her hoof into the water. It turned black from her touch. The filly screamed as silver dissolved into darkness, pedaling backward with all the speed she could muster. But it was not enough; tendrils of shadow erupted from the surface and wrapped around her tiny body, squeezing her like a vice as it dragged her back into the fountain. Into the fluid Sweetie went. She could feel it pulsating around her body, as if her skin had been replaced with a pony-shaped heart. With each beat, the shadow tightened its hold, flooding her with its presence. It was trying to get inside. Then, a soundless voice spoke in her mind. You are upset. The voice was… consoling her? Sweetie couldn’t move; she couldn’t feel; she had no choice but to remain silent, or play along. “Yes,” she replied. Why? “My sister broke her promise. We were supposed to watch Queen of Darkness at the Canterlot Theater, but she CANCELED last minute.” Oh, I know that one. It’s about ME. Sweetie trembled at the revelation. “T-then you’re—” Nightmare. Or what’s left. “What will you do with me?” I want to help you, Sweetie Belle. “It’s too late now. It’s probably started already.” I can get you there. Quickly. And I can do more. Sweetie knew that she shouldn’t trust a living embodiment of evil… but if she refused, the Nightmare would kill her. Or worse. “More?” she inquired. Yes. We can watch the play. We can make Rarity love you as she should. Help her be better. “Why are you doing this?” Well. I believe in a little something called quid pro quo. “W-what’s that mean?” I need this body, and you can give it to me. Anything you want, for this in exchange. “What if I say no?” Sweetie felt the shadows tighten around her throat. I could always wait for the next foalish pony to wander by. Sweetie tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. She spoke but one word. “Okay.” The darkness swirled around the filly, breaking the fountain apart and sending the pieces flying. Then it collapsed, draping itself over her body like cloth. Sweetie… the Nightmare raised a black hoof, admiring its sheen. Black wings formed above her shoulders, and with a single flap, took off into the night.
A QueenThe Everfree: a dark, wild forest filled with darker, wilder things. It was once the great capital of Equestria, located at the country’s center, decimated by the claw of Discord, Lord of Chaos and Disharmony, during his reign over ponykind. The earth and sky within its boundaries followed no laws of magic, no sense of order; a lingering touch of the dark lord. Even so, in the deep wood where terrible monsters dwell, one filly travels alone. With her cream yellow fur stark against the dreary browns and greys of the gnarly trees, Applebloom should have been fearing for her life. But the forest did not scare her, no; she had walked this path a hundred times. Right now, all she was scared of was running out of time. “Darned rabbit stampede!” The filly galloped down the dirt road, hopping over roots and ducking under branches. “Zecora’ll tan mah hide for this!” She pressed onward, pushing her little legs to their limits. Ducking, jumping, and weaving past branches and brambles, almost made her feel a little better. Maybe Applejack would let her participate in the rodeo this year. Then a bright green flash, followed by a roaring explosion of sound, robbed Applebloom of her wits and senses. She screamed (at least, she felt herself screaming) as her hooves tangled up and pitched her body forward. The filly slid along the path, face first, and collided with what felt like a tall, skinny log. That is, until the supposed “log” picked her up by the end of her tail. “Tch. Too small.” Applebloom vision refocused; she wished it hadn’t. As her captor lifted her up, all she could see was the hole-marred black chitin that was so characteristic of the most feared species in Equestria. “You’ll have to do, my little pony.” Her voice was regal, but raspy, as if she’d been dehydrated for years. “A queen does not wait. Revenge does not wait.” “Y-you’re…” The filly strained to speak, her breaths coming in short bursts. “you’re—“ A green pasty liquid found itself covering her mouth. It quickly hardened, silencing her. Similar fluid tied her legs, and Applebloom was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. She watched as green flame engulfed the creature, morphing into something… somepony horrifyingly familiar. Then the changeling laughed as she removed Applebloom’s ribbon from her mane and tied it into her own. “Foal. I am you.”
A KingThe Crystal Empire, a haven in the Frozen North. A thousand years ago, its inhabitants were slaves to the Shadow King Sombra, and the land was filled with the darkest of magics, blackening the crystals that towered over the city. Today, it was the radiant, shining center of magical studies, as well as the current host of the Equestria Games. For one filly, it was the second most boring scooter ride she had ever ridden. Scootaloo zoomed from house to house, street to street, looking for an incline. The scenery had gotten old about a few blocks back, and she was desperate for some action. “Come ON, already,” she said. “No broken carts? No shady alleyway shortcuts? What kind of city doesn’t have a bad side?” A sharp turn right down the next street led her to the outer rim of the Empire, where she could see the hills and fields of emerald grass stretch into the horizon… save one small, white dot in the distance. Scoots smirked. “Looks like we’re going off-road.” Wings a-buzzing, Scootaloo made for the curious white speck. In less than no time, she was close enough to see that it was a frozen patch of ground. Lying in the center was “A horn? Eww.” It was a nasty old thing, the lone, ownerless horn. All black and red, curved and sinister. Scootaloo’s skin tingled, as if she’d been shaved and thrown into a tub of ice water. Dismounting her scooter, she slowly approached the horn, stopping just a few inches short of it. With the edge of her hoof, she poked the severed appendage. The horn ominously rolled over. “Huh,” said the orange filly. “I thought for sure that it would like, explode or something.” Her fears assuaged, Scootaloo picked the horn up in earnest and tossed into the air, catching it as it fell down. She held it up to the sun, and a bit of red light shone on her face. “Whoa, it’s kinda see through. Guess it’s just a crystal that LOOKS like a horn.” She put it to her forehead. “Hehe, I’m an alicorn!” she giggled. Striking a regal pose, she yelled, “Fear me, for I am the GreaAAAAAAAAAAGGHH!!!” A thousand needles of pain stabbed through the filly’s head, filling her mind with visions of a stallion, smoke gray fur clad in silver armor, green eyes blazing with purple smoke, a crown upon his head. He stood tall on the highest point of his castle; spires of black crystal radiating with his dark magic. Below him, thousands of ponies, features hidden beneath masks of iron and obsidian, knelt before their king. With a word, they would march for him. Die for him. Kill for him. He need only say it, and the world would fear his name. The vision ended, but the pain did not. Scootaloo writhed on the icy ground, frozen blades of grass stabbing into her back, as the horn released its magic into her. Am I dying? she asked. I don’t wanna die. I’m too young to die! There’s so much I didn’t do yet… I still… I need… to… A final surge of dark magic and Scootaloo lay still, the horn fully embedded in her skull. But she was not dead. That would’ve been too merciful. Scootaloo’s eyes fluttered open, blazing green with fury. “My… empire…”
A GoddessCanterlot, the seat of power of Equestria, and home to the largest population of unicorns in the country. A city made up of only the famous and elite, Canterlot was the place to be for up and coming fashions. Unfortunately for its residents, this regal and elegant appearance was a mere façade; beneath the very noses of the princesses, crime runs rampant: illegal magical concoctions being sold in dark alleyways, various organizations extorting money from local businesses, ponies disappearing from their homes… surely it was no place for fillies at night. But there one goes, down those dark alleyways and empty streets, to a place even she does not know. “Stupid Rarity,” pouted Sweetie Belle. Tears in her emerald eyes, she galloped through the city, hooves clip-clopping on the cobblestones, kicking aside moldy fruit and discarded cans. “You PROMISED.” The strength in her legs began to wane, and she slowed to a trot, then stopped to catch her breath. The night air was frigid, nearly freezing Sweetie’s tears to her face. She must’ve made quite a racket; yet the neighborhood around her was dead silent, lit only by a moon shrouded in clouds. She could see now that she was in some sort of town square. The marble houses lining its perimeter were blanketed in shades of shadow, and the wind was the only voice that could be heard. But there, in the center, glittering in the moonlight, stood a stone fountain. It was rough and gray; drab compared to the other stoneworks littering Canterlot’s streets. There was moss creeping along its cracked visage, as if the earth threatened to reclaim it. The water flowing from its three bowls, however, shone like liquid silver. "Pretty…” Sweetie dipped her hoof into the water. It turned black from her touch. The filly screamed as silver dissolved into darkness, pedaling backward with all the speed she could muster. But it was not enough; tendrils of shadow erupted from the surface and wrapped around her tiny body, squeezing her like a vice as it dragged her back into the fountain. Into the fluid Sweetie went. She could feel it pulsating around her body, as if her skin had been replaced with a pony-shaped heart. With each beat, the shadow tightened its hold, flooding her with its presence. It was trying to get inside. Then, a soundless voice spoke in her mind. You are upset. The voice was… consoling her? Sweetie couldn’t move; she couldn’t feel; she had no choice but to remain silent, or play along. “Yes,” she replied. Why? “My sister broke her promise. We were supposed to watch Queen of Darkness at the Canterlot Theater, but she CANCELED last minute.” Oh, I know that one. It’s about ME. Sweetie trembled at the revelation. “T-then you’re—” Nightmare. Or what’s left. “What will you do with me?” I want to help you, Sweetie Belle. “It’s too late now. It’s probably started already.” I can get you there. Quickly. And I can do more. Sweetie knew that she shouldn’t trust a living embodiment of evil… but if she refused, the Nightmare would kill her. Or worse. “More?” she inquired. Yes. We can watch the play. We can make Rarity love you as she should. Help her be better. “Why are you doing this?” Well. I believe in a little something called quid pro quo. “W-what’s that mean?” I need this body, and you can give it to me. Anything you want, for this in exchange. “What if I say no?” Sweetie felt the shadows tighten around her throat. I could always wait for the next foalish pony to wander by. Sweetie tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. She spoke but one word. “Okay.” The darkness swirled around the filly, breaking the fountain apart and sending the pieces flying. Then it collapsed, draping itself over her body like cloth. Sweetie… the Nightmare raised a black hoof, admiring its sheen. Black wings formed above her shoulders, and with a single flap, took off into the night.
