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// If I Could Do Right by You, I Wouldn't 
// Story: That Green Hatred 
// by The Real Darkness 
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He stared the report down with his own eyes, looking back at the princesses before he gripped his dagger hard. Rhett was dead and his actions were for naught. He could see his future, in the hottest pits of hell for every sin he committed. God forgives them all, but blasphemy. A dogma he was told.

And Reynauld remembered when he crossed that line, defacing a church just to get at gold and silvers to sell for his own profit. That’s right, none of this was ever for Rhett, it was all for him. If anything, he wanted to put Rhett away in a monastery just so he could feel good about it, like he wasn’t a complete hells-condemned sinner. He looked at an empty plate of food, crumbs of something still evident on it, it sat innocently on the war table. The reflection of himself on that silver plate mocked him, as if he willingly refused to acknowledge this truth.

So Sombra must have used him, big fucking whoop. Reynauld already accepted that he hurt all these ponies and killed countless of them, but he knew what he needed to do next. It wasn’t even for wiping his slate clean or making himself feel the remote bit better about how evil to the core he truly was. This was for ego, for pride, and for spite. Reynauld was frozen over with silent anger for a while longer before an idea struck him.

That’s something he could play in his advantage, Sombra would likely assume he died in the attempted assassination on the Princesses lives. He could sneak in easily, wait for the perfect moment, and end him in return for using him like this. Then he could maybe settle up things with his brother and find something to do. His motivation was slipping, Rhett was his drive to keep on commiting crime. Reynauld had already tasted every sweet bit of luxury the world had to offer, the best inn maids, the best wines, the best weapons, the fanciest clothes, and more. None of that really interested him on bit, what did were the actions.

And even those were losing its taste.

Reynauld took the quill left on the war table and dipped it in spilled ink, writing over the war map in big black font.


Attack From East


And circled the river next to Foal Mountain. Reynauld had slain most of the patrols along the way so the time they detected them, it’d be too late to mobilize anything and Canterlot would be at a huge disadvantage. Reynauld didn’t particularly care, but if the surprise attack went awry, it would point more to his possible death and a boon in his subterfuge. He slipped quietly from the war room.

Reynauld went all the way out of Canterlot, taking the same path of slain sentries he did to get in. The moment his feet touched the grassy fields North of Equestria’s capital, his head churned as he walked low, keeping himself hidden in the grasses with the cover of night.

Sombra would assume he died and failed and the war would rage on, a new frontline would be established and Sombra would have to be ordering directives out more and more instead of relying on his new human to do the lifting and pointing his hoof for his forces to attack after the sabotage.

Equestria had her first real assassin and he craved sin second to vengeance.





It was a grueling few days, making ground over lands stained red, grasses burnt black, and scars of magic across the skies. He made it back to the Crystal Empire, every mineral was turned some shade of blakc or grey from Sombra’s influence. He’d cast a spell to tell his paranoid self when magic crossed over into his domain, but since Reynauld had none the tyrant when unalerted. 

Reynauld found himself skulking about the city, which could barely be called that. It was a ghost town and all food was being given to those fighting the war and barely a scrap to any of the enslaved ponies here. It almost reminded him, no did remind him.

That bastard Arnulf, he did the same for his own ego, very much like Sombra. Very much like Sombra, he didn’t stop until he was dead or rather dying and even then countries still pillaged the lands he lived in until he could sneak Rhett out. Maybe if he had chosen to stay and defend his brother would have lived.

Not that it mattered to him.

Reynauld chose to infiltrate into the Crystal Palace, making sure he went completely unseen through the lessened patrols. Sombra had gotten very confident with having his human assist him in conquering Equestria. He made it all the way to the throne room, choosing to climb the outside jagged crystals to the balcony. Not a single pony could see him from down below. The palace was black, he wore all black, and even if he was noticed they could easily assume he was just some crow looking to nest.

That was until he reached the balcony and could hear Sombra speaking to some general of his, “you mean to tell me in all those many words that my surprise attack failed,” the despot’s voice boomed while he sat on the throne, kicking off of it in anger. 

Reynauld was making silent little steps to the back of King Sombra, he dagger was already drawn and the general surely noticed him, “what is it that has your attention besides me?! Explain your failure before I lock you behind my door!” Reynauld stared the general in the eyes and shook his head, a clear indication that Sombra was not the most menacing presence in the room.

“Why won’t you speak?! Are you such a foal that-,” and his steam ran out of his sentence, “that-,” he was beginning to choke on Reynauld’s dagger.

“You used me, my brother was dead all along and you’ve been hiding it since we advanced on Ponyville to make a break in their second line,” Reynauld breathed coldly into Sombra’s neck, “I don’t fucking like that and I don’t fucking like you,” Sombra’s mouth opened to speak.

Reynauld pulled the dagger from his throat and shoved it into his mouth next, piercing the inside soft flesh and earning a screech from Sombra, “shut up. You’re done,” he yanked the dagger free and covered his own hand and arm with splatter of blood as he stabbed the King.

It wasn’t until the sixteenth or seventeenth time that it lost flavor to him and he dumped the fresh corpse onto the stained black crystal, staring at the general.

“L-L-Lord Reynauld!” The general bowed to try and save his own throat from such a fate.

“I’m no Lord,” Reynauld kicked the body of Sombra, “and he’s no King,” his dagger pointed at the general, “and you’re no general. If any one of you ponies take up Sombra’s place, I’ll kill that bastard,” Reynauld left past the general, striking quick and hard into his back, nothing life threatening but it would be very painful to move for a while.

Silence fell over the Crystal Empire as news spread. There were many shouts at first of Sombra’s assassination and many still loyal to him attempted to apprehend Reynauld. He’d long since drew his sword proper, having experience thanks to banditry, and slew those who would stand in the name of the dead King all the way out of the Crystal Empire. He took a train, heading all the way to the loosely controlled Ponyville, where every single pony that pledged themself to Sombra was overwhelmed.

There were the willful and the forced in this conflict. Sombra would brainwash some stronger ponies into fighting for him, but with his magic gone along with himself, it caused riots to break out in encampments. Oddly, Reynauld was not stopped as he peacefully strided away, unsure what to do anymore.

And he didn’t even notice that he was wandering into the Everfree Forest until the canopy darkened the sky further. Reynauld was certain his sins would never be forgiven, he’d meet Satan in hell, and he didn’t care to repent or beg for absolution from whatever church, pope, Jesus, God, or whatever else was capable of granting it for him. He was the rotten apple that dropped every year from a tree, eaten thoroughly on the inside.

Reynauld accepted that he would continue to be eaten inside, but only by himself now.