The Tyrant.

There was a fire. So many brilliant flames, burning radiantly throughout the area, like a hungry beast devouring its prey. The flames burning with the intensity of the sun as they flickered and wavered in the air grew through the area. The flames working to consume all things in the city.

The sounds of metal striking metal could be faintly heard, and two figures are briefly seen within the flames, clashing and separating repeatedly. One figure holding a long blade, forged with the highest quality metal, crafted masterfully with intricate patterns flowing through an around the blade. Some holding meaning, others holding power. The second figure held a long and sturdy halberd, old and battle ridden was this weapon. Having seen many battles and survived, this weapon held experience and great power within.

Ever still these blades clashed, over and over again, in a shower of sparks that lit the land. Their true beauty is revealed through battle, more so then they could ever be outside of it. The cries of the weapons being heard every time they strike each other, sounding out like an army preparing for battle. A battle of wills and metal being fought here, each trying to overcome the other.

Yet even still, the wielders of these weapons danced through their battlefield. One of ponies, the other of humans. Each holding their weapons with great skill and ferocity, each having everything to gain from this class, and everything to lose if they fail. So, the two continued their unrelenting clash, unburdened by the destruction around them. Undaunted by the pain in their bodies. Aiming for the kill with every thrust, every stab, and every slash, these two warriors battle. They parried, they defended, and they attacked.

In the wake of their clash, they left death and flames. The pony radiating the true power of the sun, burning away at everything she came in contact with. Every clash and every swing and slash of this power sent flames hurtling out around the two, and yet every still they fought. Undistracted by the screams and death around them.

The battlefield by the point could be barely considered a millionth of its former beauty. A glorious city of which ponies of royal, common, and rich blood dwelled in luxury and happiness. With brilliant structures of marble, and ornate and intricate designs of homes and shops. The crowning jewel of the city being the glorious castle at the very tip, home to the very pony battling against this mysterious human. The very pony who was destroying her own home in this battle.

Evermore they clashed, determined to destroy the other. Annihilate everything they had built, break every bound they have forged and push them into the deepest pit of misery they could. For truly they hated each other, for what they had done, for what they believed in, and what they killed for.

The two figures seemed to be a blur of gold and black as they moved through their surroundings, the untrained eye unable to tell exactly who was taking the lead in this battle. As the two pushes against each other, forcing one back a step, only to be pushed back themselves by ten.

Then in one giant clash, of which released a shock wave of those destructive flames, the two separated from each other. Jumping away to gain distance as they stood opposed. Each panting and tired from their long clash, their bodies sore and hurt, sweaty and broken.

The pony adorned brilliant golden regalia, her hooves being secured in strong golden shoes, her head adorning a helmet with beautiful designs etched into it, making it almost seem like a crown. Her body was adorned with heavy golden armor, defending her from her enemies attacks, even if it had started to break away from their clash, revealing white fur under it. This pony was much taller than others, with wings coming out from her armor and a horn from her helmet. Indeed, this was no ordinary pony, for this was Princess Celestia. The most "benevolent" pony around. Her body wounded, her emotions unstable, and her kingdom in tatters. It was as if one was looking at a famous painting that was besmirched with mud. Her glaring with a deep hatred at her foe.

(Not my art. This, except more damaged. Link to artist.)

The figure across from her, however, was a complete opposite. The human wore a dark as night cloak over his form hiding almost every distinct feature about him. His hood forced off his head long ago from the wing and the power of their clash, a broken helmet resting on his face. Some of the left mouth area and the right area broken and knocked away during their battle, revealing a frowning face and a light blue eye staring back into hers. Some black hairs being seen just above his lip, a light after shave seeming to have been left on his face before the battle. One of their eyes glowing slightly behind the mask it seems, but that seems to be more an effect of the mask than anything. The rest of his form was decorated with light armor defending his body, it being heavier in certain more important areas of his body. Black gloves protecting his hand, but they had started to wear down from the constant movement of the blade in his hands. Several smaller blades being revealed on a belt hidden by most of his cloak held tightly and securely, yet seemingly easily removed. His outfit was in tatters from their battle, several holes in his cloak and armor, revealing pink skin hidden below it. Soft ragged breaths were coming from behind the mask as he stands there, glaring down his opponent.

While these two had been the most flamboyant and flashy battle, they were not the only ones fighting. In fact, several other ponies could be seen fighting other ponies, griffons were also fighting ponies, and even some young dragons and diamond dogs were thrown around here and there. Each fighting to overcome the other, the streets being decorated with blood and bodies at this point. They fought as hard as they could to overpower the others, fighting for what they believe them spurring on their strength making them fight harder, faster, and smarter. None, however, fought with quite the skill or grace their leaders did.

The city had been damaged beyond anything that had hit it before, and the death count was higher than any battle that had been fought under the sun princesses reign. Though there were very few battles in that time in the first place, that didn't change the facts here.

As the battle continued, the leaders out for the kill, six special ponies screaming and arguing with each other, purple captain against a dark knight, princess of love against queens, and finally revolution against the state. This battle had long since been in the making since the very first moment the human graced the land. Since the first blood was spilled, so to speak.

How could it have gotten to this point I hear you may ask? Well, that's a long, long, long story. But if you choose to listen, if you're ready to unlock the secrets of what became of a small human child, of how a princess became a tyrant, of how loyalty broke, and of a clash between ideals, then stay. Pull up a chair, and listen. For we have much to discuss and so little time to do so. Beware, however, for if you continue, you may not like what you discover.

Still here? Good, then it's time to weave a tale as old as time, but perhaps different from others? Who's to tell. Now, let's begin, four years ago. When the Revolution began.

Two years earlier.

It was dark, night had fallen the land not long ago, shadowing the world and hiding those who did not wish to be seen. Crickets were chirping softly with their interesting sound, as ponies and other creatures slept under the starry sky. Not a whisper to be heard, nor a sight to be seen when the city was like this. Well, not unless you knew where to look.

One such place is a little building at the edge of the city, where a dark figure was standing looking over the city in front of it. It stood there a while, simply gazing over the city and learning its layout. Soon however the figure let out a soft sigh, a gruff and aged voice being briefly heard, sounding male as the figure touched its mask in an expression of tiredness and exasperation. Soon the figure just shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head around a few times, causing several pops and cracks to sound out from him before he takes a few steps forward off the edge of the building. The figure disappearing into the shadows of the ally below.

He would be seen every now and then as he moves through the allies, heading to his destination with the skill of an assassin, avoiding guard movements and any ponies that were still awake. Hiding when he needed to, and even when he didn't, just to make sure he wasn't spotted. Soon he arrived at a large mansion within the city and stood out in front of the gates surrounding it, staring up at his target.

He waited there for several moments until he heard the smallest sound of approaching hooves, at which point the figure moved and hid with his body pressed up close to the wall. He waited for the sound to pass him, before he quickly jumped up and pulled himself over the edge of the gate, and landing with the faintest of noises. He glanced around quickly, making sure the coast was clear before he quickly made his way across the courtyard.

His footsteps were light and quiet as he ran across the yard, quickly making it to the mansion, where he jumped onto a small statue and used three more as steps before he vaulted over to a window ledge and held on. His body dangling above the ground at the second story as he waits several moments to make sure his movement was not here, and after several moments of quiet he pulled himself up and into the mansion.

The human figure looked around the empty room he had entered, looking over the king-sized bed and the expensive assortment of random items inside. He briefly takes a moment to go over a mental map, before nodding to himself as he quickly and quietly made his way out of the room and down the hallways. Right, right, left, forward. Stop.

The human quickly moved into a room as he was several guards approaching around the next turn. The human now finding himself in a supply closet, listening to the clip-clop of hooves slowly making their way past the room and down the hall. He sighs softly as the sound fades and he slides in a small black painted knife back onto his belt, before opening the door and continuing on his way.

After making his way through the large mansion and managing to luckily not have to use any of his numerous blades, he finally made it to his target. He quietly opened two large double doors, slinking in as he quietly closed the large doors with a soft thump. The room he had entered was a large library and on the opposite side of which he entered was a reading area with a fire crackling in front of three large chairs. One of which, happened to be occupied.

The cloaked man slinked forward silent as a mouse, moving up behind the occupied chair. The man soon standing behind the chair, looking over at the pony who sat in the chair. A well-dressed fellow with a business suit on and a monocle covering one of his eyes. He had a blue mane and tail and was currently reading a book, seemingly unaware of the man standing threateningly over him. The man standing there for several moments, before lifting a hand, and seemed to be reaching out for the pony in the chair.

Just as he was about to grab the pony, he moved his hand to rest on the chair, and then walked by it to another chair which stood angular to the chair the pony was in. The movement was so fluent that the pony hadn't noticed the figure sitting in the chair for several moments before he looked up and his eyes worried and he looked almost ready to shout. Then he calmed as he saw who it was and instead gained a frown.

"Now what could have possessed you to scare me like that, old friend?" The posh voice of Fancy Pants spoke out to the figure sitting in the chair. Causing them to chuckle as they rested their head on their hand, elbow on the armrest of the chair.

"Just having some fun Fancy, I don't get to have much fun nowadays." He says with a small chuckle, his voice soft and young. Yet muffled slightly by his mask, which caused his eyes to gain a white glow to them, hidden when in the dark.

Fancy gained a frown at this and nodded a few times in agreement, him closing his book and setting it aside on a coffee table. "Yes, I suppose you haven't. Did the guards give you trouble? How have you been anyways? I hope everything is going well" He asks as he leans back into his chair, looking over at his friend with a small smile, and a slight hint of worry.

The masked figure let out another chuckle, this time more mirthful as he lightly drummed his finger on the other armrest. "No trouble at all, and things have been well, I've been careful." He says happily a smile almost heard in his voice before his body suddenly tensed and he slipped into a much more serious. "But you and I both know that's not why I'm here."

Fancy frowns at him as he nods a few times, letting out a small sigh as his face seems to gain a much older and withered appearance. His years of stress being clearly shown now. "Yes, I suppose it isn't. It's almost the thousandth year, isn't it? And you've come to collect on the favor you had asked of me so long ago." He says almost mournfully, like he knew terrible things were going to happen, great things, but oh so terrible.

The human nodded a few times, his expression stern behind the mask as he stares at his friend, in an almost accepting way. He knew his friend had never wanted this task, and he knew it was wrong of him to force it on Fancy, but he had no choice. He needed to finish it, even if he had to break his friendships to do it. "Yes, it's almost time for the long-awaited moon princess to return, for the Sun and moon to be one again. The empire shall return as well, and with it, a new crystal princess shall rise. That's not to mention the pupil She has obviously been breeding to take the role of a princess as well." He says, spitting out the sun and she parts as he seems to glare into the fire before him.

Fancy sighs a little at this and nods in understanding, his withered look growing more as he realizes the number of crimes he's about to commit with this one act. "Are you sure you want to do this, my old friend? It's not too late to mak-"

"It is too late." The human growls angrily as he glares at his old friend, his voice holding a very old and strong rage in him.

Fancy flinches at this, fear rising in him for a moment before it is quickly replaced with somberness and sadness. "Very well." He says resigned as he stares over at his old friend, his expression serious and hiding the true pain he was feeling inside. "But know that if you start this, you will no longer have my support." He says, hoping his friend would take this last chance to give up on vengeance, more than anything he hoped for this.

His friend is silent for several moments, seeming to hesitate for but a moment, before finally, he gives a firm shake of his head, and Fancy knew he had lost his friend. "No, my choice is made. I can never turn away from what happened, and I need to end it, or at least try. Or I will never find peace." He says softly as he stares into the fire, unable to look at his oldest friends broken and hurt expression. His mind was made, he would walk down this path, and make her pay for what she did.

Fancy is silent for several moments, morning over the loss of his friend before he decided to suck it up for now and help his friend one last time. "Very well." He says softly as he looks at his friend, nodding a few times as he sits there. "I have all the things you asked me to gather, and I've found several volunteers who are trustworthy and agree with your cause. You should be able to trust most of them, and I'm sure you'll figure out what to do with those you can't. Three hundred in total." He says softly as he glances at where his friend kept his hidden blades, already knowing what he would do with them.

The masked man nodded as he learned this information, going over it in his head as he continues to drum his fingers over the armrest. "Thank you, Fancy." He spoke softly, honest gratitude in his voice as he continues to stare into the fire. He then reached into his cloak and pulled out a piece of paper, which he quickly held out to Fancy. Who had flinched when he first saw him reaching into his cloak, before looking curious as he took the paper. "Spread the word to all my supporters to meet me here. This is the last favor I ask of you." The human spoke seriously as he finally turned to his friend, and moved his mask a little to show his mouth to his friend. "Thank you, for everything you have done for me Fancy, I truly mean it." He spoke slowly, knowing this was the last time he would see him as a friend.

Fancy returned to sad look as he nods a few times, straightening his suit a little as he returns the smile solemnly. "Of course my friend, thank you for everything you have done. I will miss you." He says as he puts the paper into his suit, before taking out one of his own. "These are certain individuals who you may wish to look into, they could prove useful." He said as the masked man took the note and took into his coat, his mask now back fully on his face.

"Thank you." He says softly as he stands, and starts to make his way out of the room, leaving his dear friend behind once again.

"...When will it end?" Fancy asked just as his friend reached the door, his voice quiet but still heard by the masked man, causing him to freeze with his hand on the door. He stood there for several moments, his hand resting on the door. Finally, he tilted his head back to Fancy, his masked held to the side by a hand for the moment, his piercing blue eyes staring at Fancy.

"When I watch her burn" He says with such hate in his voice it almost made Fancy feel like he was the one who was going to be killed. Then his friend was gone and the door had closed, leaving his best friend behind. Once again making his way through the mansion till he once again reached the exit.

Fancy stared at the door his friend had exited from with a small frown on his face before he slowly turned back to the fire. His magic reaching under his chair and pulling out his emergency whiskey, and places it down on the coffee table and pours it into a glass. His magic swirling his glass softly as he stares into the flames, taking a sip every few moments. "May Faust have mercy on you, my friend." He says softly, as he takes another sip before he gains a much more somber look as he realizes what's about to unfold. "May Faust have mercy on as all, and may you spare my soul and family." He drank much that night before he joined his wife in bed not much longer. After having sent his men out to deliver his friends' message of course.

This was truly the beginning of the end. Faust would not heed his prayer, nor would anything be able to stop the growing flames.