The Leading Light

by Sphinx

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Other, Original Character
Length: 2790

(One-Shot) The Captain of the Royal Guard marches upon a foe he thought he would never face.

Guard-Captain Beacon, nicknamed "The Leading Light of Equestria" after his numerous victories across the known world, marches to battle against a foe he had never thought he would face. A foe he wishes he did not have to face.

Published 2013-01-31 03:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-31 03:50:02 UTC

Tough Revelation

You stare across the plains in front of you. They remind you of the battlefields of old, the rolling hills almost seem inviting, like a good place to spend a summer afternoon, had you been here under different circumstances. Alas, your purpose here is much more grim. Your armour weighs heavily on your back. In the midday sun it shimmers brighter than ever before. A drop of sweat rolls down your forehead, you give it not a second thought. Conditions could hardly be more ideal for a battle.

A pang of guilt shoots through you. Fighting a battle on Equestrian soil against a force that once was and in your mind, still is, a part of the Equestrian Empire is far from ideal.

You turn to your troops, the Canterlot garrison of the Equestrian army. The Royal Guard in its full force. It had been clear when the orders were given that Celestia wanted to set an example. The undivided gaze of a hundred ponies, stallions and mares alike greets you, the grizzled veterans of many a campaign. Had you not known differently, you could have sworn they radiated with light, as if the sun itself had infused them. They were your brothers and sisters and you had full confidence in that they would prevail on this day. Yet a tiny crack of confidence threatens to consume you, something about this battlefield feels… Off.

You shrug off your doubts. This force had seen action in the Dragon Craters across the east sea, had been the leading the charge on the capital walls of the Zebra nation during the reign of the crazed King-Mage, had held back the Icy Spirits of the northern hemisphere, what threat could a rag-tag peasant militia possibly pose to them?

“My friends,” You begin.

“Today, for the first time in a long time, we fight on Equestrian soil. Our foes are not corrupted kings or evil conquerors, nor are they angry spirits summoned from the combined unrest in our world, they are ponies of Equestria who are standing for what they believe is right, much as we do.”

You pause to take a breath.

“The fact that they dare stand up against us,” You bang a hoof against your chest plate. “Makes them some of the bravest mares and stallions you will ever face.”

You pause once again, allowing your words to sink in.

“Treat them with the same respect you would your peers, allow them mercy should they ask for it, grant them an honourable death.”

Your troops begin steadily stomping one hoof into the grass, creating a soft rhythm as you continue your speech.

“They are the wayward children of our Princesses, they are sons and daughters of Equestria and while history will not remember them in kind, make sure you do, as you might find yourself in a similar situation one fateful day.”

The hoofbeats grow faster.

“Our world is changing! Our enemies gather and plot against us, our own people question our power, but you and me.” You point a hoof towards your troops. “We will be the catalysts of old. We will remember the unsung heroes, we will remember what this empire stands for, and we will remember history as it happened, not as it was written!”

You draw your sword from its sheath using your inherent magic.

The hoofbeats stop.

“And with that knowledge, we do what we must!”

You turn from your troops, sword forward and the march begins.

No words are spoken, grim determination and decades of discipline wash over the Royal Guard as they march upon the rebellious Equestrians, sun reflecting in their golden armour, the blue and purple plumes attached the their helmets swaying ever so slightly in the cool summer breeze, a single banner with the Equestrian flag held high.

You spot the enemy forces closing in on a hill to the east. You are outnumbered at least three to one, but it hardly matters. The enemy troops are untrained, unequipped and unprepared for the heat of battle. They advance upon you in no logical formation, their weapons are makeshift farmers tools and their armour is leather and cloth, no match for Equestrian steel.

As you reach the top of a hill, you signal your troops to hold. You and your lieutenant, along with the Equestrian Standard bearer approach the opposing force. A small delegation of ponies begin marching in your direction from the other hill, you assume these ponies to be the leaders of these rebels.

You meet in the middle of the soon-to-be battlefield. As the enemy commander approaches, you extend a hoof in greeting; she shakes it firmly.

“The Leading Light and his Royal Guard have marched all the way out here?” The mare begins. “I am flattered.”

You nod softly.

“You are very brave to face us on open field, commander.” You state, trying to gauge a reaction from the mare.

She smiles solemnly.

“There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity, Beacon, I am not sure if we’ve crossed that line.”

You are surprised she knows your first name, this mare obviously has history in the Equestrian military; you try not to show your surprise to her.

“I have an offer.” You state bluntly.

“You will engage me in single combat to determine the outcome of this struggle, sparing my troops from a bloody end on the battlefield.” She deadpans.

Definitely ex-military.

“I would accept your offer, captain, but I am not the sole reason for this uprising. I did not incite these ponies, they fight for themselves, and I merely guide them. I suggested your offer to them on the eve before this battle. They politely declined my self-sacrifice, saying that this is a battle they need to fight themselves, regardless of outcome.”

Your respect for these ponies is rising every minute, but you are under orders.

“I understand. I take it that they will not surrender peacefully?

The mare laughs, you notice hint of bitterness in her laughter.

“Not in this life, general.”

You let out a sigh.

“Very well then commander. Hold your head high.”

You salute her as she salutes you and you turn to trot back to your troops.

You retake your position as the head of your force and signal the attack. A horn booms out from the back of the Royal Guard formation as you charge down the hill.

The echo of several hundreds of hooves thunder through the air, as you close in on the enemy force. Just as you are about to collide with their front lines, you signal the Royal Guard to split formation allowing the unicorns packed away in the middle of your force to spring to the front. You see the fear in the eyes of your opponents, this was unexpected.

With a flash your unicorns channel the flare of the sun into a blinding light shooting straight forward, causing the rebellious ponies to shamble back in pain, confusion and blindness as you crash into their lines.

Dozens were cut down or impaled in the first seconds of the battle.

The pegasi rear guard of your force immediately takes to the air, swooping over the enemy army and landing elegantly around them, cutting off any potential retreat.

Instincts and reflexes take over now as you cut a swathe through their ranks. A stray blade blocked, a joint slashed, a vital artery cut open, the Royal Guard fight with frightening speed and precision.

You do not stop charging until you reach the middle of their force. Time and time again the rebels fall upon you and from all possible angles but your experience and equipment is too much. Your lieutenant is at your side as always, peeling off any would-be assailants from the rear.

You ready as spell as a trio of ponies advance on you with pitchforks and pikes. You dance around your opponents, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. As a pike is lurched towards you, you fire off the spell, blinding the lancers as your brethren had done on a much larger scale during the first charge. With their defences lowered you swing your sword cleanly and efficiently. A quick death is a blessing on a battlefield.

As you finish your deadly swipes, you feel a faint force around you. Years of experience in countering spells allow you to discern even the slightest change of balance. There is a unicorn around here somewhere. You swing yourself around and parry a wild swing of an axe, the rebound pushing its wielder out of balance and you knock him out with a swift kick to the muzzle. It is imperative that you find this unicorn before he or she finishes the channelling.

You wade through their dwindling forces once more, parrying and retaliating against any blade that dares strike towards you, until you see him. A male unicorn surrounded by the mare you counselled with before the battle and her entourage.

You waste no time in charging, followed closely by your lieutenant and the standard bearer. The first pony in your way is sent choking on his own lifeblood by a swift slash of your sword. The mare commander stands before you in a battle stance you know only too well, shield and axe held high.

You engage her directly as your troops begin fighting the rest of the defensive formation surrounding the unicorn.

You lash out, but she blocks your first strike with ease. You circle each other for several seconds; sweat dripping down both your faces and your eyes equally filled with concentration.

You feint an attack to her left and attempt to knock her out from under her hooves with a sweeping kick instead, but she is too fast in her leather armour and nimbly dodges your hoof.

You nod towards her; respect is an important aspect of honourable combat.

She doesn’t waste a moment, knocking directly on your sword with her shield and bringing her axe up from underneath. If you hadn’t been as aware as you were, an axe would be lodged in your chin right now.

She dislodges her shield from your sword and swings around with a roar, arcing her axe right towards your exposed neck. You duck just in the knick of time; the plumes of your helmet fall softly to the ground. Rather those than your head. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t expect her to continue her swinging motion and your head explodes with pain as she slams you over the head with her shield.

You stagger backwards for a moment, feigning more pain than you are actually in. Smelling victory, the mare charges at you with the intention of delivering you unto death in your daze.

As she closes in, you swing your sword upwards as you sidestep and too late does the mare realize her mistake.

You deliver a vicious slash to her face, right across it in fact. She would be lucky to survive for long without tending, with a wound like that. She tumbles into the grass behind you, sword and axe landing by her sides.

Rules of engagement demands that you finish her off, granting her an honourable death, but the unicorn and whatever spell he was channelling is more important right now.

You turn your gaze from the defeated commander towards the unicorn. He was lost in the channelling of his spell, unaware of his comrades around him either dead or dying. To let your fate rest on your friends in such a way was an admirable trait. You trot calmly towards the unicorn and end the spell he was channelling by severing his head from his body. The one ace these rebels had up their sleeve, now nothing more than a twitching heap on the battlefield.

You turn towards the commander of the rebels. She is staring at you with her now one good eye as you approach her wounded shape.

All around you the cries of death and despair ring out as the rebels become less and less. Normally it wouldn’t affect you, but for some reason it does this time. You cannot help but feel that an injustice of untold proportions has been dealt upon this day. You weep internally for the countrymen you killed on the field. The short trot towards the body of the enemy commander seems to stretch out into an eternity as the full gravity of your actions sink in.

The one thing you swore to never do and now you have done it in the name of the highest authority in the empire.

A single tear rolls down your cheek, a pure drop amidst the sweat, grime and blood of battle.

Finally you loom over the body of the mare. You almost cannot bear to look at her and yet your eyes still meet. Her eye was not that of hatred or fear, in fact she looked more compassionate and remorseful than anything. You lift your sword once more, preparing the drive it into her chest. It would be a quick death.

Every bone in your body screams that this whole battle is wrong on so many levels and yet your sense of duty and your loyalty to the Princesses drive the sword towards your enemy. Everything seems to fade out around you, as if time slowed whilst you were swinging your blade. You hear someone cry out in the background, but it is muffled in the blanket of grey that seems to have enveloped your world.

An icy feeling fills your chest. You feel your trusty blade flying out of your magic grip. With a surge everything changes back to normal, colours and sound returning.

You look to your right. Your sword is lying on the ground.

Why is it lying on the ground?

Your thoughts seem to be slurring. You sway ever so slightly as you look around you. The fighting has ceased, all eyes seems to be fixated on you, even those of the rebels.

You see dread in the eyes of your troops. That is an emotion they haven’t showed in a while. You turn to your lieutenant a few feet away. He is staring at you, mouth agape and with tears flowing freely. His sword is also lying on the ground.

Finally you come to a full circle and find yourself staring directly into the eyes of a young stallion. He couldn’t be more than eighteen. His eyes were just as dread-filled as those of your troops. You then look down towards the enemy commander.

The taste of iron fills your mouth as you swing your head downwards.

How curious. She bears a stunning resemblance to the young stallion standing next you.

That’s when you notice it. A sword embedded in your chest. Lodged in the gaps of your plating. You touch it gently with your right hoof. You look down on the mare on the ground and attempt to speak, but all you manage is to spurt even more blood over her.

You feel your body becoming numb as you collapse on the ground.

“So, this is death?” You mutter in between coughs of blood and saliva.

“I am afraid so.” The mare mumbles softly as she crawls towards you on her belly.

You attempt a smile as she sits up next to you, placing your head gently in her lap. You lift a hoof towards her bloodied face, but she pushes it away.

“I am… sorry.” You stutter.

“Hush now Beacon, the Leading Light of Equestria, Captain of the Royal Guard of the Court of the Sun.” She coos softly as white fills the edge of your vision. You feel yourself slipping away.

“Ca-can’t f-feel a thing.” You cry out as the mare removes your helmet.

“You don’t have to feel anything soldier.” She replies quietly. “All you have to do is close your eyes and sleep.”

She runs a hoof through your mane as you close your eyes. One final feeling shoots through you before you draw your last breath.

“I am… Afraid.”

Author's Note

First fanfiction I've ever written. Ever. Feel free to do shoot it down in any way possible, it is the only way to improve. If I may suggest things to inspect closer (If you are so inclined) it would be the grammar and wording. English is not my mother tongue so I can guarantee you that there will be plenty of mistakes.

In regards to the theme, it was just something I felt like writing. Do not expect anything following this up. It is extremely rare that I can get myself to write anything.

And with that, thank you for reading, have a nice day.