A large, broad-shouldered, midnight black stallion is seen racing down the immaculate and beautiful hallways of Canter lot. The Capitol city of the Equestrian Empire. The masterfully crafted stained glass windows bathe him in different coloured rays of light. Depicting ancient (and more modern) acts of heroism and valour. He paid them no mind, his current mission filling up his mind, giving his eye's a narrow-minded, purposeful sheen.
He sprinted towards a set of large, gold inlaid double doors, capable of withstanding almost anything, but which now stood open, though the two stern guards at either side, wielding spears said that, though the doors stand empty, forced entry will be no easy feat. The two guards, upon noticing his beautifully forged black armour, denoting that he is a personal guard of her highness, Princess Luna, stood rapt to attention, lifting their front hooves in the traditional Equestrian salute. He paid them no mind. Instead bursting into the room, interrupting two very important ponies concentrated upon their work.
The two ponies were, of course, the Princess Celestia, guardian of day, and ruler of this land, and the captain of the guard, Shining Armour, who was being reprimanded on how sudden and unexpected visitors burst into her room at random, exactly the way the dark stallion did.
He loudly cleared his throat, badly startling Shining Armour, but the Princess remained unfazed. He marveled at how she stayed so calm, no matter what was happening. Little did he know, her calm demeanor would be soon shattered at the news she would soon get.
She turned to look at the captain. Smirking slightly, she said "Now do you see what I mean?" And turned to look at the guard. Shining crept slowly backwards, his face flushed with embarrassment.
The dark stallion stood to attention, throwing up a salute before offering the beautiful princess the following message: "Your sister, Princess Luna needs to have an urgent meeting with your eminence," he said. "Concerning grave news that she has received on the subject of Disharmonia."
The Princess stood still, dropping her list of complaints to the floor, it thudded against the stone steps, with a resounding, and rather final, clang, before rolling to a rest at the guard's hooves. "W-what did you say?" She asked shakily, sure she misheard his message.
He repeated it, adding "Urgently," at the end. The Princess stared at him for a few seconds, her knees wobbling, before she sank to the floor, stunned. Shining Armour lept forward, helping her get back on shaky hooves. The Princess took a few deep, deep breaths, before nodding, as if mentally steeling herself for what was to come. "We must be off." She said, before sprinting down the stairs, the guard and Shining Armour close behind. They sprinted along passages and corridors, the gorgeous architecture forgotten in the Princess's panic.
She burst in on her sister standing at her balcony, looking out. She levatated a small glass of tea to her lips, before offering to her sister. Celestia refused."Believe me sister," she said, "You shall need it." She motioned for the guard to get more tea.
"What is it Luna?" Celestia asked, clearly worried, "What is going on?"
A brief silence initially followed, but was broken with the arrival of more tea. Luna turned, and for the first time, Celestial truly grasped the gravity of the situation. A tear, a single, silent tear rolled from the Princess of Night's bowed head, dripped down her nose, and fell, glittering, to the carpet below.
Celestial jumped up, demanding, "WHAT HAS HAPPENED?" Luna looked up, the fear, sorrow and pain clearly reflected in her watery gaze.
"Sister," she replied, her voice a small whisper, much like a scared child bemoaning the monsters under their bed to their parents, knowing that the monsters can't be real, but certain they they are there. "Sister," she tried again, "Disharmona has attacked." She let the words sink in. "We, Equestria, are at war."
Author's Note: Be prepared for outrageous Scottish accents whenever a pony from Disharmonia speaks.(Pronounced Dis-harmonia)
From the journal of Silverheart Page 57: Entry 1:
Well fuck. Look what you've got yourself into. I mean really? Deserting the largest fucking army practically ever, to go traipsing around in the sub-zero temperatures of northern Equestria. Good going. So now we're stuck, in the middle of hostile territory, miles away from any town, and if we do find a town before our meagre food stores run out, it'll probably be an enemy, and kill us on sight. Good fucking going. I mean, this is a war, there'll be casualties. You didn't have to run, a crime, by the way, punishable by death. And those Equestrian, hoity-toity bastards deserved it... right?
"Grrrrrrrrrr!!!" Silverheart yelled as he threw his notebook away. He bent over, pencil still in his teeth, wobbling around from his teeth chattering in the cold. His golden mane lay tousled about his head, uncared for, and starting to freeze, his shining silver coat fared no better. He looked at the notebook, with fear and confusion in his eyes. He pulled his coat tighter around him, shivering, and clutched his head in his hooves. "Did they deserve it?" He asked himself. Memories began running through his mind, providing stark reminders of the atrocities he had committed.
"Right! 'Ere's th' plan," a large, blue unicorn with a black mane and bushy moustache bellowed to the company of ponies spread out around him, of which Silverheart was a member. They were out in the frozen woods of Northwest Equestria, just a few miles outside the small town of Saint Poniesburg. They all stood huddled together from the cold, their metal armour and weapons already frozen to the touch. "D'ye all see th' map 'ere?" The unicorn commander called. With a mostly unanimous yes, he told those selected for this task what to do, those remaining stayed and watched out of pure boredom. "Okay, first, th' team under Captain Redmane'll sneak inta th' town through 'ere an' 'ere." He pointed to two spots along the map, at the North and East entrance of the town. "Those under Silverheart," he continued, "Will, once th' town's secured, move in, occupying th' remainder, creating a perimeter around the town," He looked at Silver, "Make bloody damn sure th' exits are covered, am I clear?"
Silverheart looked up, "As crystal, Colonel!" He stammered out before once again looking back at the map.
The colonel glared at him long and hard, making sure the message sunk in, before turning back to the map as well. "Good! Then, when those little bastard awake, we get them t' place their weapons in th' town centre, and line 'em up against a wall. Clear?" He bellowed, with a resulting Aye, sir! from the rest of the group.
Silver left the group, feeling excited for the upcoming attack. He was young, having come of age just a few years prior. Immediately, after his birthday, he joined up for the Disharmonian army. After going through basic training, he was put on border patrol, where he earned fame and glory for leading a charge against a group of Timberwolves that had been attacking the fringes of the Empire. He rose quickly, earning his sergeant stripes relatively quickly. Though he had been in combat, he had never killed another pony, and prayed that this attack would end without bloodshed on either side. He trotted over to his soldiers, men and women alike, and called out, "Get yer arses movin', y'ed better be ready at first light, or y'ell feel m' hoof on ye!" His troops chuckled to themselves, knowing he was just joking with them, but still hurried to put on their armour and ready their weapons. He walked to his tent, where his assistant had readied his equipment. "Ready, Quickeye?" He asked his good friend and assistant.
Quickeye sighed and nodded, "Of course, sir." Putting extra emphasis on the sir. Silverheart walked forward and shed his coat, shivering immensely at the sudden onrush of freezing cold air. Quickeye walked forward, hefting Silver's armour, and placing it upon his shoulders. Once again, Silver shivered.
"God damn it's cold!" He exclaimed, as the metal and leather touched his skin. Quickeye chuckled and nodded, before going to retrieve Silverheart's sword. it was thin bladed sabre, expertly crafted with a mix of steel and genuine silver. the hilt was gold, with ornate carvings along the mouth grip, and his name etched along the blade. Silver belted it at his waist, making sure it was within easy reach of his mouth. Though beautiful, he had proven that his sword was deadly, wielding it with ease and expertise rarely seen; he was a born natural with a blade, but soared with his trust sabre at his side.
Soon enough, the call was heard for the companies to move out. Silverheart rushed to put on his helm, and trotted outside, standing in front of his eagre troops. They saluted, and with an "About face! March!" They were off. The moved silently but quickly, desperately trying to avoid a clank or creak with their armour. Before long, Silver had seen Redmane and his mane pour through the gates, like water through a broken dam: sudden and swift, but most of all, silent. Before long, Silver gave the quiet order to move in, surrounding the small town, and keeping a group at each gate to block ponies trying to escape.
As the sun began to slowly creep over the treetops, bathing the frozen world in a soft light, the innocent ponies of Saint Poniesburg awoke to their town occupied. Some tried to run, but were stopped. After a few minutes panic, the scared ponies were pushed, none to gently, towards the town centre. An aged, tottering old mare, who must have been the town elder stepped forward, asking what all the commotion was. Redmane stepped forward, towering over the old pony. She stepped back, saying the town "Don't want no fuss, y'hear."
Redmane simply laughed and started pulling a scroll out of his saddle bags. He Held it aloft and began to read. "Ye citizens of th' town of Saint Poniesburg, are hereby under occupation from th' Army of Disharmonia!" He said. "Ah'm sure none of ye want any trouble, an' neither do we. All we're askin', is that ye surrender peacefully, and place all weapons in the town centre, after that, ye can live yer lives as ye see fit." Some ponies began slowly walking away, beginning to adhere to the demands. "But," Redmane called, causing the simple residents to jump and turn back to him. "If any o' ye get any ideas o' fightin' back, we will have t' come down with force, an' without mercy." He finished with a frown. "Ye are dismissed!" He called out, the ponies of Saint Petersburg running away.
Little did the troops of the Disharmonian army know, but a small group of hunters, had returned from a week-long trip, only to see their town filled with soldiers. The quickly decided to plan a rebellion, without knowing Redmane's demands. They sent a messenger to sneak in, jumping from a high ridge onto some hay below, all without any troops noticing. She approached everyone she knew, upon hearing that Redmane actually wanted the ponies to bring weapons into the town centre, she decided on a plan.
A few hours later, the citizenry had brought all the had to Redmane, a simple assortment of butcher's knives, pitchforks, flails, and other such instruments, laying them in a pile in the centre of town. Redmane nodded to his assistant, who stood next to him, watching as well, glad to see that they wanted no quarrel. Little did he know, that in the innocent farmer ponies' eyes, a rebellious rage was building. The town elder once again stepped forward, ignorant of the plan her friend's were hatching. She stepped up and addressed Redmane, saying "As you can see, we have laid down all of our arms, we want only peace."
"Good!" Redmane said. "Now, I'll read ye yer terms of surrender." He reached for the scroll, turning his head away, clearly exposing his neck to a small party of bowmen, hidden in the woods. Before he even opened his saddlebags, thwack! a single, simply crafted arrow thudded into Redmane's exposed veins, causing a jet of crimson blood to splatter against the elder's astonished face. Redmane put a hoof up to his neck, blood gushing out of the wound, dying his mane even darker, he gurgled once, then fell over, twitching as his blood pooled around him. The soldiers watched astonished, as their captain bled out before them.
"Dear Celestia, what hap-" the town elder began to mutter, when Redmane's assistant stepped forward, and with a cry of "Ye lying bitch!" hefted his sword and hewed off her head, the citizen's mouths gaping collectively, as their beloved elder's head spiraled upwards, mouth still trying to form words. An arc of blood spurted form her neck at the blow, and the body collapsed in a heap, almost mirroring the dead captain, a few feet away.
With a bloodthirsty cry, the citizens jumped into action, picking up the weapons they had laid down, as the furious hunters charged the gates, intent on breaking through with a sudden sneak attack. As they did so, Redmane's assistant bellowed, and the better trained, better equipped soldiers charged with cries of "No mercy!" The two forces collided, the soldiers smashing the doomed farmponies front lines. Their swords and spears easily rented flesh and bone, spewing blood and limbs high into the air, while the citizens weapons bent, snapped, and splintered against armour, a lucky blow through the eye felling but one soldier.
Silverheart watched all this in horror, until a bloody scream sounded from behind him, he wheeled, cussing, as the party of hunters charged. Their sneak attack felled soldier after soldier, breaking right through the line, charging straight for Silverheart, with murder in their eyes. He quickly pulled out his sabre, instincts kicking in, he stepped forward, and drove it straight through the throat of the lead pony, before ducking a clumsy knife thrust, and severing the limb at it's joint, and hacked through the pony's breast. Blood spurted everywhere, drenching his silver coat in red. His remaining soldiers quickly recovered, and even though the initial charge felled many, the hunter's were still far outnumbered, and were mowed down without a further casualty to Silver's troops. After the killing was done, Silver led his forces through town, attacking small pockets of resistance, slaughtering them all, until only fifteen armed ponies were left standing, backed against a wall, guarding the children and elderly.
Silverheart's forces reached them first, and plowed into them with abandon. He hacked and slayed all around him. His mind was racing, flashing thoughts around and around. “These Equestrian bastards," he thought to himself, hacking at the flesh nearest to him. He didn't notice the last armed pony fall; his troops back away, instead he kept attacking, “They drove my people out, forced us to eke out a meagre living in the GOD DAMN snow and cold!" He kept fighting, slashing, hacking, dishing out death to those nearest, however, he failed to notice that he was now killing innocent fillies and colts, their cries for mercy failing to reach his ears through the pounding in his head.
The poor colts and fillies ran away from the bloody monster who had already slaughtered many of their schoolmates and friends, they rushed, ironically towards the soldiers under the monster's orders, who held them close, fear in their eyes, directed at their own commander. After a few minutes of hacking the corpses piled around him into a bloody pulp, Silver calmed down. The fierce, loud, and erratic pounding between his ears calmed, leaving him with a bitch of a headache.
"Uhhhhhh... my head." He mumbled, dropping his sword in the pulp at his hooves. "Holy SHIT!" He cried, jumping out of the gory mess, cursing when he realized that his sword lay in that muck. "OK, what the' fuck happe- whose kids are those?" He asked, upon noticing the huddled shapes against his soldiers. After a moment of silence, Silver looked around, "What," he asked, 'Have y'all seen a bloody damn ghost? Why are ye all so silent?"
More silence. Until Quickeye stepped forward. Silver looked at him questioningly, wondering what the hell had gotten his soldiers so spooked. "Ye want to' know what happened 'ere?" Quickeye shakily asked, "You, tha's what happened 'ere. Ye fucking murdered children." He gestured to the cowering little ponies huddled behind his troops, who stared at him with a blank gaze. “Children!" Quickeye sighed, "Ah'm still nae entirely sure wha' jus' happened, but what ye were jus' standin' in is a bloody, blended mess of child." Quickeye stepped back. Fear, confusion and hurt clouding his eyes, a tear fell, glittering. It splashed into the snow, a million tiny, perfect droplets exploding and cascading around it. The soldiers and children still stared, uncomprehending what had just transpired. They too, held fear in their eyes, wondering who that pony was, that stood in front of them covered in innocent blood. He wasn't Silverheart, surely.
Silver just stared back, hoping it wasn't true. He couldn't have... not children. He sank to his knees. Mind racing to try and put together what happened, he was fighting rebels, then, nothing. He couldn't remember what he'd done. He was lost. He looked back at the puddle, and promptly vomited. He collapsed into a ball, twitching, crying. Afraid of what he'd done, what he'd become then. He held his gore-stained hooves in front of his face. Murmuring, "What have I done?
Silverheart jolted awake, he looked around, then shivered. He saw he was in his tent, back out in the woods. He lay there, willing his mind to remember what happ- he vomited again. The memories were too painful, he couldn't deal with them. He heard some pony look inside, heard them sigh, and walk forward. They knelt before him. He closed his eyes, not letting whomever it was to see his tears. A futile effort, at first, he seemed to succeed, then he let one slip. It rolled down his nose, fell plink! onto his hoof. Soon after a second tear, then a third, soon followed. Before long he was sobbing into the pony's comforting hoof, covered in bile and tears. He didn't feel any blood matting his hoof, but still he thought it was there, slowly coagulating, a reminder of the atrocities he committed.
"W-w-what h-have ah d-done?" He sobbed, gasping for air, his body still wracking with tears. He curled up. After a while, the tears slowed. He still felt the comforting weight of the pony's hoof rubbing his back, and when the torrents of salt water concluded their onrush from his eyes, he opened them. He saw Quickeye sitting next to him. Crying as well. Silver looked at him, for the first time, actually appreciating what a good friend he had in the grey-maned colt.
Quickeye sighed, a heavy, painful sigh. A sigh foretelling something that Quickeye needed to say, but couldn't "Damn it, Silver, ye have t' leave. Ye'll be kicked out o' th' army because o' what ye've done once anypony higher up hears. It'll be tough. But ye cannae stay here." He grabbed his friend's head, looking deep into his eyes, "D'ye understand? Ye have to go. Now, or as soon as ye can. Run, they'll try ta follow ye, but ye can make it. Head North, go home, ye've no more fight left in ye. Ah'll help as much as ah can, but ah cannae go with ye." He hoisted his friend up. "Let's get ye cleaned up."
Quickeye helped Silver get cleaned off, comforting his broken friend as best he could. After Silver was cleaned and dried, Quickeye hurried to make a travel bag, stuffing warm clothes and food down inside. He buckled Silvers sword onto his friend's shoulder, tightening the straps for a snug fit. He wrapped a cloak around Silver's shoulders, "Go! Ah cannae stand ye like this. Sneak outta th' camp, make a brake fer it," he pushed his friend to the back exit of the' camp. "Hurry her arse up!" He called, pushing Silver out into the cold.
Which is where I am now. The cold. The freezing goddamn cold. Silver sat up. He trotted over to his journal, and erased the entire entry. He sighed. Better continue, he thought, before hoisting himself up. He ate an apple from his dwindling stores (It had been three weeks since leaving the camp,) refilled his waterskin at a nearby stream. He packed up the rest of his things, strapping his sword, which had christened "Bloosthirsty," after the event in- No. Don't think of it. He shook his head. He got up. Slung a coat over his back, and a pack over that and continued North. I have to keep going. I have to stop this. I have to warn someone, this war must end. I have speak to the Emperor. Maybe I can talk him into stopping this shitstorm of a war. This foul war for- Silver stopped, suddenly realizing he had no idea why the war started. For all the propaganda being peddled by the government, none of it mentioned cause. He shrugged. One more reason to stop this needless bloodshed. He fixed his pack on his back, and started, once again, North.
Towards home.
Author's Note: Ignore the grammar mistakes please. Most of it was typed on my phone at 1 in the morning.
