Dark Pony Brotherhood

Welcome to the Brotherhood

Big Macintosh walked on, the moon providing the light he needed. It wasn’t long until he found the pond the shadow had spoken of. He looked around as he neared it.

“You came,” said a voice.

He turned quickly, and was surprised with who he saw.

“Lucien?” he questioned, seeing the dark pony give a smile to him.

“Yes, it’s me, I was the one who spoke with you last night,” he clarified. “Now, I’m sure you have questions, I have answers.”

The Earth pony looked down, and then back up to Lucien Lachance, “why do ya want me to join the Brotherhood?” he asked.

Lucien smirked again, his darker voice coming through, “simple, you have the skill of a murderer, and the mind of an assassin, when you kill, it’s for business and family,” he told him. “This makes you a prime candidate for being a Dark Brother. Most of our recruits in the past have been murderers who killed for pleasure and only gained skill by making things more interesting for themselves. By all means, with training they can make excellent assassins, but the Dark Brotherhood is also a business, and while we do encourage enjoying your job, those kind of murderers can get careless, especially when starting out,” he explained.

The dark pony turned toward the pond, and walked towards it, inviting Big Macintosh to follow. “Killing is an art, and I see in you the potential to be quite the master artisan. Big Macintosh, I invite you to be the first member of the family I am building here, in my homeland, there were many dark brothers and sisters, but due to a traitor, we nearly lost everything, and now I am here alone to rebuild,” he said.

“We, the Dark Brotherhood, are the children of Sithis and our Night Mother, everyone within is a Brother or Sister. Business wise, we kill whoever we are hired to, with the exception of anyone who would call themselves a Dark Brother or Sister,” The dark pony went on.

Big Macintosh listened, as Lucien talked about family. Perhaps he misjudged the assassin’s life. The dark pony spoke of it as if it was a simple job, like picking apples. Was taking a life so simple though? “But it’s wrong to kill somepony like that,” he voiced himself, though it didn’t seem in the tone of a strong argument.

This only got a laugh from the Speaker, “one of our mottos is that Innocence is life’s greatest illusion,” he told him. “We kill those who we are hired to, meaning somepony has likely wronged another and they would like revenge,” he explained.

This seemed to reason with Big Macintosh, but he still didn’t know. Could he kill somepony that hadn’t wronged him personally? It seemed wrong, but it was enticing. The money would be good he was sure, and with it he could help his family. That word came up in his mind again. Family. Which family would he be helping? Would this new family be as loving as the one he knew and loved already? He looked to Lucien, and knew he couldn’t ask him. He would have to answer it himself.

A new family. He wasn’t want for a family, and who exactly was this Sithis and Night Mother Lucien spoke of. Gods? Big Macintosh wasn’t a religious pony, but he was loyal to Celestia. Was he? Why was he here? Asking himself questions. Did he have doubts about himself? He killed, for whatever reason it was wrong, Celestia would likely curse him if she found out.

But he did it for his family. The thieves harmed his sister and stole the money that they rightly owned. “But I’m not a murderer,” he argued weakly with himself, though he said it allowed.

This got an amused chuckle from the dark pony, which he almost forgot was there. “You are Big Macintosh Apple, you killed other ponies, but they had wronged you so you are justified, and you bring joy to Sithis by your actions,” he told him.

There was that name again, “who is Sithis?” he asked finally.

“He is our Dread Father, he is everything cruel, yet nothing at all,” he said. “A void, death, the urge to kill, the small bit of joy, that you feel when you end a life,” he said, his voice dark and full of sick joy.

“Is he a god?” asked the red pony.

“No, he is that which they avoid, and fear,” he told him.

“Ponies too fear him, though they don’t know him, or his face, he has no face, but he rules the Dark Brotherhood, with a Dreadful Black hand,” he explained to the struggling farm pony. “Four fingers and a thumb, Four Speakers, and a Listener, and being that you’ll be the first new member, you’ll have the honor of becoming a Speaker, along with me, until we find a Listener, we will remain silent, building up our strength, so we may strike the fear of Sithis into the hearts of everypony within this world,” he finished.

Big Macintosh thought, long and hard, at least it seemed like an eternity to him, it was only a matter of minutes, “what must I do?” he asked, remembering the talk of an initiation.

Lucien smiled, and went behind a nearby tree, and pulled a pony from behind it, and leaned him back against the base of the tree. He had a hood of some sort over his head, and his hooves were bound. “This is the surviving member of the gang you killed last night, I fished him out of the river,” he told him. “Now, you are to end his miserable life.”

The pony began to whimper, hearing all the talking from before, he knew who was out there, his hood keeping him from seeing, but he knew who is was. “N-no, please, you can’t do this,” he stammered out fearfully, “y-you said you w-wouldn’t kill me,” he screamed to Lucien.

The dark pony just smiled, “of course, and I won’t,” he said. “But I said nothing of him,” he said simply.

The hooded pony began to sob, “p-please, don’t kill me,” he cried, “I don’t want to die. I’ll never do it again, I s-swear. I, I s-swear to Celestia I won’t be bad anymore,” he begged and pleaded the unseen red pony. He cried, like a lost child, praying to Celestia that he would be spared.

Macintosh looked at the poor soul that was leaning against the tree, and begging, unable to get away, unable to fight back. This was different then the thugs in Manehattan. This one was utterly helpless. And begging. But he was still a part of that gang. The gang that had harmed his family, that had stolen from them. He was begging. Begging like a helpless worm.

Did he just think that?

He did.

And he was right.

This pony was a worm, writhing in any weak attempt he could to survive. To escape his fate. To escape the Dread Father. To escape Lucien. To escape him. He was struggling, but was too weak to fight. He couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine it. It was sick looking, sniveling, begging. Weak.

Lucien stood there, smiling, seeing the wheels turning in the red pony’s mind. And seeing the expression on his face twist into one of anger at the mere existence of something so disgusting as a creature begging for his life, but not willing to fight or face their end.

Time seemed to stand still for hours, the moon’s presence in the sky being the only reminder that days had not passed. The only sound was of sobbing and the occasional, ‘please.’

And then suddenly a sickening crunch as Big Macintosh bucked the head of the hooded pony, crushing it within the hood, against the tree behind it. The body fell to the ground, lifeless. The sniveling had stopped. The worm did not writhe again. He had been sent to the Dread Father.

Lucien smiled, and approached Big Macintosh, who looked into his eyes, with trust, the trust that a newfound brother often had.

The dark pony embraced the red one, and whispered into his ear, “Welcome to the Family,” he said. “Welcome to the Dark Brotherhood, My Brother.”