The Friendship Scrolls

by Mehrunes Davenport

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Adventure, Crossover, Alternate Universe, Dark
Length: 4732

Fallout Equestria with swords

Sometimes, the strength of ponies fails. They forget the values that make them strong, that make them who they are. When ponies lose their way, when the world is engulfed in hatred and despair, when friendship is forgotten… we need something more. Somepony more. And sometimes, they come. Ponies who carry the fire of friendship, kindling it once more in the hearts of ponykind. Ponies who do what a normal pony never could. We call these ponies heroes.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-19 21:20:57 UTC

The Scrolls Have Foretold

You should have acted.  They’re already here.

Awake.

I was awake.

I sat up, slowly, and looked around.  I was in… a cell?  It seemed unpleasant enough, certainly.  I was lying on a mat in a stone room closed off by a wrought iron gate, dressed in surprisingly concealing rags.  I could count the other objects in the room on my hooves—a single rotten apple lying on an old wooden table and a window nearly ten feet off the ground.  I shook my wings out and with a few flaps, I was almost at eye level with the window--then stopped, and looked at my wings in confusion.  I didn’t know I had wings.  For that matter, why was I in jail?  What was my… oh my goddesses.  I fell to the floor with an almighty thud as the reality of the situation hit me: What is my name?  I had no idea who I was.  How I got here.  Where “here” even was.  Sun and moon, what the buck is my name?  I wanted to scream, but I didn’t even know what my voice sounded like.  Who was I?  Why couldn’t I remember anything?  What did I even look like?

“Well well, look at this!  The zoomie’s finally awake!”  I was distracted from my panic by a loud, grating voice across the hall from me.  I saw a dark gray unicorn in the cell opposite mine, hanging his hooves out of the bars with a wolfish grin on his face.  “Bit cramped in there, isn’t it?  Far cry from the wide open sky.  ‘Course,” he added with a more than slightly creepy giggle, “soon you won’t have to worry about any of that.  Because you’re never getting out of here.  Never.  Just a box, and a dirty little beam of light for the rest of your short life.”  The giggling intensified as he looked me over, seeing I was too stunned to speak.  “Oh, it really is tragic—from frolicking about in the clouds to being stuck in a tiny cell under Canterlot?  I can almost see the walls closing in on you… I can’t even hope to know how it must feel.  But I at least know this—you’re going to die in here, Pegasus!  Die!”  Through my confusion, fear, and doubts about his sanity, a little pony in my brain slapped a label on him: asshole.

As he finished speaking, I heard a door opening and the sound of heavy hoof steps coming down the stairs.  The pony across the hall looked at me with barely contained psychotic glee and whispered, “Oh, they came quickly this time!  The guards are coming now—for you!”  With one final, twisted giggle, he crept back into the shadows, and I was left to face whoever was coming.

“Lock that door,” came the command of a dignified sounding mare.  “There may not have been any signs of pursuit, but we’re not taking any chances.”  A buck grunted in assent and a door slammed shut.

Then I heard another voice—one I’ll never forget.  It was old, gentle, wise, but laden with unbearable sadness.  “My sister… she’s gone, isn’t she?”

I could imagine the regal mare shifting uncomfortably as she responded, “W-we don’t know that, princess.  The message only spoke of an attack…” but the princess’s voice stopped her short.

“No, she’s gone.  I know it.”  Then a stallion spoke up, how many ponies were out there?

“Your majesty, please keep moving.  We need to get you to safety.  The passage is right through… here.”

The buck who was speaking came into view through the bars of my cell.  He was a large, muscular Pegasus in a suit of golden armor, with a black spear slung across his back.  I could see his coat was white, but it looked a bit… off.  I supposed it had been dyed.  He saw me as well, crouching by the wall, and turned to speak to his companions, still outside my field of view.

“Captain, there’s a prisoner in here!  I thought this cell was kept clear at all times!”

“It’s supposed to be,” the mare I’d heard said with a snort, stepping in front of the bars and furrowing her brow as she gazed at me with overt annoyance.  Clearly, I was further ruining their already very bad day, at least if the cuts and nicks on their otherwise pristine golden armor were any indication.  And… was that blood on the captain’s spear?  She clicked her tongue, obviously still annoyed, but reached back and pulled out a key.

“Thtay dere—“ she mumbled through a mouthful of metal, then spat the key into her hoof and said more clearly, “Stay there against the wall, prisoner.  I don’t know who you are or what you’re in for…” she pressed the key into the lock, turned, and the gate of my cell swung open. “But it’s your lucky day.”

The two ponies filed into my cell, the stallion keeping his eyes trained on me.  The last guard made his way in, followed by… oh.  What word did I just use to describe the captain?  Regal?  I need to be more careful about the words I throw around.  This was a regal pony.  She was easily twice the size of the biggest guard, needing to stoop to enter my cell.  She couldn’t have looked more out of place in the dirty cell with her pristine white coat (no dye here, thanks), shining golden jewelry, imposing wings and horn, and blazing sun on her flank.  Her mane was a beautiful cascade of colors that flowed and shifted before my eyes, as if blown by an invisible wind.  Her eyes, as they locked on mine, were full of kindness, wisdom… and recognition.  The little pony in my head threw a few new words at me: Princess, she said, indicating the glorious pony.  Alicorn.  Celestia.  After a moment, she suggested, bow.  I did so, stammering as I went,

“P-p-princess Celest-tia…”

The princess just looked at me, with aching sadness in her eyes.  “It’s… you.”  Then she muttered, more to herself than any of the ponies with her, “of course it is.  In the end, who else could it be?”  Her guards looked at each other, then back at her.

“Your majesty…”  Celestia looked down at the stallion who had spoken.  “Please, Princess, we have to keep going.”  That seemed to shake her out of her trance, and she gave a smile that I guessed was supposed to look reassuring, but to me just seemed tired.

“Of course, my little ponies.”  She lowered her horn and touched a brick in the wall of my cell.  The stones rearranged and shifted, revealing a stairway that led down into darkness.  Huh.  No wonder this cell was off limits.  I couldn’t imagine what would possess anyone to put a prisoner in a cell with a built-in escape tunnel.

Celestia stepped back, gazing intently at me as her escorts stepped into the secret passage.  “Wait,” I blurted as she turned to leave, and got three spears pointed at me for my trouble.  My little pony sighed and shook her head at me.  Stupid.  “Please, Princess… do you know who I am?”  I finally got to hear my voice for the first time… much deeper than I expected for a mare, let alone a small(ish) one like me.  If it was even possible, the princess held even more sadness in her eyes than before as she responded, “No, my little pony.  I’m very sorry to say that I don’t.”

Darn.  Worth a shot.

“Okay, what about you then?  What are you doing here?  And... if you don’t know who I am... can you at least tell me why I’m in this dungeon?”

“I was attacked by assassins, and my Lancers are taking me through an escape tunnel which leads through your cell.  And as for why you are imprisoned, it does not matter.  It is not what you will be remembered for.”

Feeling cryptic today, are we?  That’s fine... just fine... or it would have been, if the captain stepped between us before I could continue my interrogation.

“Your majesty, we’ve wasted enough time.  This prisoner is inconsequential, and we are in greater danger every moment we linger here!  We need to leave!”  The Princess, still with her eyes trained on me, slowly nodded.

“I quite agree, captain.”  The mare sighed in relief.  “At least, with your final assertion.  This prisoner is anything but insignificant.  But, you are right.  We do need to leave.  All of us.”  The Princess finally lifted her gaze.  “The prisoner leaves with us.”

The mare looked like she wanted to scream, but managed to nicker back, albeit in exasperated tones, “Your majesty, this prisoner is an unknown factor.  She shouldn’t even be here at all.  For all we know, she could be one of the assassins!”  Celestia rounded on her.

“She has to be here.  This has to happen.  I… I need to do this.  Please.  It’s the least I can do for her.”

The mare gulped, but finally nodded.  “Very well, Your Majesty.  Follow me, please.”  She started down the stairs with the Princess in tow, nodding to one of the stallions as she passed.  I started to follow, but the stallion stepped in my path.

“Listen here, prisoner,” he growled, “The Princess, for whatever reason, has seen fit to allow you to follow us, and we trust her judgment.  But get in our way, or give the slightest hint that you might hurt her, and we won’t hesitate to kill you.”  He stepped away and nodded towards the passage.  “Proceed.”

I was still a bit too shell-shocked at this point from waking up with amnesia and being rescued from captivity by a living goddess to form a coherent response, so I just nodded until he slung the spear across his back.  I trotted down the stairs after the princess and into… the sewers.

Why, oh why, couldn’t they have been filled with happy bunnies and delicious sweetrolls?

The walls and floor were formed from monotonous gray flagstones, with two platforms on either side of a deep trench full of Equestria’s leftovers.  It wasn’t even a clean gray.  To be fair, sewers aren’t known for being the brightest and cheeriest of places.  Even in glorious Canterlot, shining capital of Equestria, it was little more than a dark, dank river of shit.  The upcoming voyage through said gastronomical wasteland was exactly as pleasant as I’m making it sound.

The captain trotted in front with the Princess right behind her, flanked on either side by the rest of her entourage.  They set off along a platform raised above the murk and I was left trailing along in back, contemplating ways to get Celestia to talk.  It was blatantly obvious she knew much more than she was letting on.  I wanted to push her, but she seemed so… fragile.  I was afraid she’d start crying if I demanded answers, and I could imagine how well her Lancers would take that.  But damn it, I needed to know!  Why couldn’t she just tell me?  It wasn’t like I was anypony important… right?  How do you know, whispered the little pony in my head.  Didn’t you see the way she acted when she saw you?  The fact that she knows you at all...  Shut up, I’m thinking, I told her firmly, and she obeyed as I continued my musings.

I nearly bumped into one of the guards flanking Princess Celestia; we had reached an open room that the captain was checking for… something.  “Alright,” she said finally after poking her spear into every darkened corner.  “Seems clear.  Come on, we’ve got a lot more ground to cover if we’re going to get the princess to...” she stopped, gaping at the dagger sprouting from her chest.  “Safety,” she mumbled, and fell to the ground, revealing the pony that had stabbed her.  His features were entirely obscured by a jet-black cloak, complete with an oversized hood which hid his face.  He moved jerkily, erratically, but quickly and silently towards us.  The two remaining defenders leapt forward to engage him.  He might have taken the captain by surprise, but in a stand-up battle he stood no chance, the guards cut him down in a matter of moments with their spears.

“Was that it?”

I realized the stupidity of my question halfway through asking it, as other assassins appeared from the shadows, hooves on the hoods of their cloaks as if they’d just thrown them back.  We still couldn’t see their faces, though, because after a momentary flash intimidating, demonic segmented armor appeared around every one of them, encasing them completely.  The guards took up stances, but they were both slower than the Princess.

Celestia stepped forward, power crackling from her horn and eyes.  “NOT ONE MORE!”  Light burst from her horn, striking each of the assassins and blasting them back against the wall, cracking it where they impacted.

I glanced over at her ‘guards,’ who looked as stunned as I felt.  “So… you’re protecting her?”  They glared at me, but took the jibe silently, dusting themselves off and taking their places beside the Princess once more.  She seemed tired, even more so than when she walked into my cell; she was even panting slightly.  I suspected that little display had taken more out of her than she thought it would.  I walked over to the captain, trying hard not to look at her.  I’d only known her for a few minutes, and now she was dead. Of all the emotions I should have been feeling, fear, anger, sorrow, shocked disbelief, the only thing I felt was a kind of regret.  Whoever I was, I guessed this wasn’t my first experience with death.  I closed her eyes with my hoof, and bent down and picked up her spear in my mouth, fitting it on below my wing.  At the looks from my companions, I just shrugged.

“I might as well make myself useful.”  The guards turned away without comment, but the Princess’s eyes lingered on me for a moment.  I got the impression she was disappointed in me. Nonetheless, she soldiered on with us down the dripping passage out of the room.  One of the stallions spoke up.

“They knew we were coming.”  It wasn’t a question.  The other Lancer nodded his assent, and Celestia just lowered her head and sighed.  I reflected on that for a few moments, as we walked into another one of those large rooms we’d been having such luck with.  So I was walking in a disgusting, dark sewer with a depressed and exhausted living goddess and her entourage, now one short, fighting a small army of assassins with the ability to conjure armor out of the ether and turn invisible, and both of those powers were being used to set horrible ambushes for us.   Was there anything else that could possibly go wrong?

As we trotted through the room, the doors on all sides of the room were blocked by shimmering magical shields, and at least a dozen ponies decloaked and armored up all around us, pulling out wicked spiked maces.

Sorry I asked.

The guards fell into formation as the tip of Celestia’s horn glowed for a moment before it fizzled and died, sending her, groaning, to her knees.  No tricks to save us this time.  This was the first time I’d actually seen Celestia’s Lancers fight, and I could finally see what made them more than worthy of their posts.  They fought side by side with perfect discipline, never more than a step away from each other, guarding each other’s backs and delivering devastating blows with every thrust of their spears.  I was so busy watching them, mouth agape, I didn’t see the assassin who’d decided to go for the smaller, squishier target (that would be me) until it was almost too late.

With a rather undignified squeal, I dodged his swing and leapt into the air.  They were surprisingly quick in their armor, but either there were no pegasi in the crowd or the armor covered their wings.  Celestia was making her way across the room as quickly as she was able, her escorts staying close to her every step of the way.  She finally reached the barrier on the far side of the room and tapped it with her horn.  As it fizzled and died, she limped into the next room and I flew in behind her, with her Lancers now defending the door.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was that the door to the next passage had been barred from the other side.  It was a dead end.  We were trapped.  I almost fell to the ground, but Celestia, kneeling on the other side of the room, called me over.

“I can go no further,” she said as I approached.  “You must now stand against the forces that would bring this world to ruin.  But not alone.  Never alone.  No matter what you might think, the fate of Equestria depends on you making friends.”  I gulped.

“Princess... you can’t die.  Not now.”  She lowered her head.

“Ponies are but flesh and blood.  They know their doom, but not the hour.  In this, I am truly blessed to see the hour of my death, to face my apportioned end with grace.”

“You mean it,” I whispered, “don’t you? You really think this is the end.”

“My journey is ending,” replied the Princess, as a white glow of magical energy enveloped her horn and the tiara atop her head, floating it to me, “but yours is only beginning.  Take this.  Bring it to my sister.”  She floated it into me, and I hesitantly placed it on the ground between us.

“Princess… can you see my fate?  Can’t you tell me anything at all?  And... I thought you said your sister was dead?  Or... gone?  I just… I just want to understand.”

As she gazed into my eyes, her face softened, and she spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear her.  “I wish you wouldn’t understand.  I wish you would never find out.  And I’m sorry.  I’m truly sorry, my little pony, but one day… you will.”  She lay down and closed her eyes.  “Now I can rest… after so long, finally I can rest.”  She looked at, but didn’t recognize, my face. “Stand true my friend.  May your heart be your guide, Derpahkiin.”

The wall behind Celestia rearranged and slid up, just as the wall to my cell had.  A black earth pony stepped through, wearing that damned robe with its hood thrown back.  He was shaking, and there were tears in his eyes as he saw the Princess, and the wicked serrated dagger held aloft in his mouth.  “Please,” he whispered.  “Kill me.”

I lunged forward to oblige him, but he dodged my clumsy thrust, raced towards the Princess, and plunged the dagger into her neck.  She barely seemed to register the fact as she slumped and her blood spilled across the floor.

She smiled.

She was turning gray before my eyes, fraying around the edges, her hooves and wings blowing away into dust.

She was gone.

Just… gone.

Skulduggery

An adventure can only truly begin three ways: by death, by slur, or by letter

“So... let me see if I understand you correctly.”

Imagine, if you will, the most awkward, uncomfortable, stammering, unpleasant conversation you can think of.  Make it, let’s say, ten times worse.  I can practically guarantee it was not nearly as painful as explaining to Celestia’s one remaining Lancer what exactly transpired in that little room in the sewers.

“Princess Celestia just handed you-- an escaped convict-- her tiara.”

“Um... yes.”

“A few seconds before somepony with a magic dagger popped through a secret door.”

“That’s correct.”

“And he then leapt past you, stabbed her with the dagger, and turned her to dust.”

“I’ll go with true?”

“Is that all?"

"Did I mention how she turned to dust?"

He drew his spear.  “I thought so."

He shook with barely contained fury as he approached.  I had nowhere to run.

“The princess trusted me,” I tried desperately.  “doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“And look where that bucking got her!”

I was pressed against the wall at this point, and he stood over me with his spear at my throat.

“I should have insisted... even if the captain didn’t... I could have saved her!”  He stomped his hind legs as he talked, getting even more agitated.  “This is all! Your! Fault!”  He reared back to strike...

And paused.  Perhaps he had one last thing to say before he killed me.  His mouth was twitching.

“Hush now...”

As he fell forward, I saw the dagger in the back of his neck, and the pony standing behind him.

“Quiet now.”

Those were the last words I heard before the guard’s body drove the spear into my wing, and I blacked out.

My wing was bandaged, and a pleasant numbness coursed through my body.  I lay there for a while, staring dreamily up at the night sky, before I realized the little pony in my head had returned with a vengeance.  “Assassin!” she tried.  “Celestia! Lancer! Knife! Oh, Buck!”  I eventually stirred and got to my knees to see a certain swarthy earth pony seated opposite a small fire, his jagged dagger laying on the ground beside him.

“Ah.  You’re awake.”  His voice was even, but he was staring at the ground.

“You killed the Princess.”  He was silent for a moment.

“Yes.  In a manner of speaking, I did.”

“And her guard.  Like it was nothing.”

“He had failed in his duty, and was taking out his frustration and grief on you.  You were a prisoner, obviously with no training, who would have given her life to protect Celestia.  I was intervening to protect an innocent.  It was justified.  That’s the rule.”

“What rule?”

“My rule.”  He finally met my eyes.  “When I kill somepony, they always deserve it, and it’s always worth it.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Well, then.  I’ve failed.  Haven’t I?”

“You could say that.”  I studied him, his face tilted up to the stars.  He was the darkest shade of black, blending in with the night surrounding us.  His small features betrayed no emotion, and I couldn’t even see his cutie mark beneath his cloak.

“Why did you kill Princess Celestia?” He sighed.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I think I’ve learned something today about the value of giving insane stories the benefit of the doubt.  And I have to say, this isn’t anything like I expected.  Try me.”  It took him a few seconds to collect his thoughts, but finally he began.

“I was hired for what I was told would be an expedition into the Mirror Marsh.”  He eyed me carefully.  “It was a ruse.  Obviously.  My employer pulled out some magic piece of rock, and cast a spell on all us new employees, placing us under, well, mind control.”  I raised an eyebrow, but he just shrugged.  “I couldn’t believe it either.  From there, things became a... unique experience.  I was collected with all the other slaves in a sort of hive mind.  I saw what they saw, sometimes.  It seemed random.  I would flash from somepony waiting in a doorway, to another taking her last breath as Celestia’s honor guard ran her through.  Eventually, I came to a body that I recognized as my own.  I was staring at a wall, with a makeshift pulley to raise it, listening to a conversation on the other side.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough.  I heard you call her “Princess.” I heard her give you her crown--”

“Oh, buck! What happened to Celestia’s tiara!”  I tried to stand.  Terrible idea.  The vertigo forced me back onto my knees and I closed my eyes, breathing heavily as I fought my stomach back to it’s proper place.

“Whoa, there.  Just relax.  Wings are very difficult to heal, I had to brew an exceptionally powerful potion to even speed the process.”  He tapped his saddlebag with a hoof.  “I put the tiara in my bag.  It’s yours now, and I had to carry both it and you.  Take it.”  He pulled the crown out and trotted over to me, laying it down in front of me.

“Thank you.  I don’t know why, but this was important to Celestia.  More important than anything else.”

“I heard.  You’re taking it to Princess Luna, then?”  We come to it at last.

“I certainly intend to.”  I could never have guessed what I was starting.

“The roads are dangerous, these days.  One unarmed pony is easy pickings.”  Celestia was right, really.  I didn’t want to understand.

“Surely you’re not suggesting...”  It changed everything, forever.

“I’d like to come with you.”

I told him I’d sleep on it.  The truth is, I did very little sleeping.  Some dark, primal corner of my brain was afraid that if I went to sleep I would never wake up again, or find myself spirited away, what little memory I had lost once again.  A more logical part considered that I might already be sleeping.  Most of my mind was simply occupied, sifting through everything that had happened.  To put it mildly, it had been one hell of a day.  I kept going over the events in my head, trying to think of anything I could have done differently, but came up with nothing.  I had been a bystander through everything that happened, and when Celestia actually needed me, I’d let her down.  Or had I?  Everything she said, what she told me... it all pointed to her knowing what was coming.  And that somehow, I had a role to play in, well, whatever was happening.  I may have been a mite clueless, but the murder of a goddess couldn’t be commonplace.  It didn’t take an egghead to realize that something big was happening, and somehow I was involved.  But hey, maybe it would be easy.  Maybe I could just hand the crown over and let the heroes get on with the job.  Speaking of heroes, I turned to face the pony who had saved my life.  When he was awake, he seemed tense, ready to flee or fight at any moment.  He didn’t look much better asleep.  Already, and perhaps despite my better judgement, I found myself trusting him.  Mind control sounded like unbelievably powerful magic, certainly, but it seemed a bare minimum for anyone concocting a plan to kill a goddess.  How else would anyone be crazy enough to try?  To be honest, I had already decided to travel with him.  After all, that was one of the last things Celestia told me... make some friends.

“You just woke up in prison with amnesia.”

“I know, I know.  It sounds like the beginning of a bad adventure story.”

“So, you don’t remember anything?”  I grimaced.

“No...”

“Nothing at all?  Flashbacks to your childhood,maybe?”

“I don’t remember my childhood.  Maybe I never had one.”  my mysterious new friend woke me up at dawn, to start the trek back up the mountain towards Canterlot.  Emerging from the sewers put us squarely at the bottom, but he told me it wouldn't take more than a day to make it back up to the city.  I wondered briefly how the sun kept moving with Celestia gone, but it slipped away from me rather quickly as he showed a genuine but somewhat irritating interest in my backstory.  “Alright, my turn to ask a few questions now,” I said, holding up a hoof to cut him off.  “What’s your name?”

“Oh,” he smiled, a bit sheepishly, “that’s right, I never introduced myself.  Call me Skulduggery.”

“Pleasure,” I replied.  “I’d give you my name, but... well.”  He frowned.

“I thought I heard Celestia call you something, right before I... arrived.  I assumed it was your name.”

I did remember now, the very last thing she’d said... “Derpahkiin.”  I rubbed my head with a wing.  “It doesn’t sound like any name I’ve ever heard of, but It’ll do.”

“I suppose so.  Seems like a bit of a mouthful.”

“Second question,” I continued.  “Who taught you to brew potions?”  He stopped, and I had to turn to face him.  I saw with surprise that his eyes were hard.

“My father.”  He brushed past me.  It seemed our conversation, for the time being, was over.  “There’s just one more thing I wanted to ask you.”  Apparently not.  “Do you know what you look like?”  It was my turn to stop.

“I--no.  I don’t.  There was no mirror or anything like that yesterday.”  I held up a hoof and looked at it.  “I’m... gray.”  He smirked.

“No kidding.”  On the side of the trail there was a small stream and Skulduggery cantered over to it, motioning for me to follow.

“Take a look at yourself.  And while you’re at it, you may want to get out of those rags.  They look, well, dirty.  Not very comfortable either.”  I shrugged, as I hadn’t really noticed.  I pulled them off anyway, and as I did I realized another part of myself that I didn’t know-- a tattoo on my flank.  “Skulduggery,” I burst out, “what’s my cutie mark?”  Skulduggery, his eyes now on my flank, seemed even tenser than usual.

“It... well...”  Now in a bit of a panic, I faced my reflection in the river.  My eyes, however, were immediately drawn to something other than my cutie mark, namely, my eyes.

“What the buck is wrong with my eyes?”

“Well,” Skulduggery said, looking more and more uncomfortable, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but...”  My dull yellow eyes were crossed at the most ridiculous angle.  But... I could see just fine.  I held a hoof in front of my face again, as if having evidence of my apparent visual defect would suddenly make the world tilt.  Then, of course, I remembered why I was staring at myself in a mountain stream in the first place.  I turned so my flank was reflected in the water, where my cutie mark was... where it was supposed to be.  “You see,” Skulduggery said quietly.  “You’re one of them.”  Where it was supposed to be, there was nothing at all.