//------------------------------// // Heart // Story: Terror Puppet // by Windrunner //------------------------------// ' Surrounded by stark terror in the dark, Celestia finds herself facing a once dreaded figure. Once again from myth and legend. This one a pony nearly completely forgotten to time, yet here stands his representation. Not truly him, a mere copy but probably equally if not more dangerous than the original. She thinks back to what this terrible construct represents. Is there some meaning to these choices or just picked for the sheer intimidation they carry with their names and histories? Celestia does not know the answer to these perplexing riddles. His real name of course, was not Conflict. A title picked up through the mysts of history. An armored behemoth of a pony who was a dishonorable warrior. This did not mean he was unable to fight, quite the contrary. One did not garner a following by being unable. Master of bow and mace. A liar, backstabber, expert manipulator. A superb archer almost unmatched. Eloquent speaker. All these things he was. Surprisingly, he was not a soulless murderer. As many deaths as he caused it was always in service of his own. Celestia knew it did not make his actions forgivable, only understandable. What this entity claiming to be a once-beloved suitor had done was already leagues beyond anything the war priest had done. Spreading this kind of fear and terror was purely unbelievably vile. What she nor any other could fathom was the why of it. Did he really hate her so much? If this was in any way her fault, it would be unbearable. There must be others working with him. This was not in doubt. Even had he the power alone, this was simply too much to manage alone. Some equal or greater evil was at work here. To what purpose was nothing to guess at. Only confronting them directly might yield those answers. In this instant, mired in doubt and stifled silence the great Celestia felt only two things. Fear, an emotion hardly ever known and disgust. A tinged feeling of regret and perhaps pity for wherever he wound up in the end. That was nothing she would ever have wished upon another. Twilight said it, that kind of immortality would be a vile prison made of torment and torture. How did he end there? In what few words were exchanged she felt there was something there, of who she once knew. The most hurtful thought of all, could she have done anything to prevent this? Some simple thing that would have stopped this from ever blossoming into this horror surrounding her? Some means by which she could have helped him? He very clearly found something disturbing and evil in nature that granted some portion of that which he sought in life. Was there any other equivalent amongst good? Right now she could think of none. She'd done what was necessary. What she never had any choice but to do. Those decisions were made for her as surely as night falls. There was no other action to take. Destruction stood there. A mighty construct of steeled magic and perplexingly accurate carving. No, this thing was not the archer who came to be known only as Conflict. A mere shadow of the real thing. There was no question, he would have been as insulted by this mockery as she was to see it standing there. To face that which is real would mean there was some modicum of honor there. From this there was none. This thing powerful as it might be was a pale imitation, a fraud most well perpetrated. Each of these hefty stringed monstrosities carried with it some all-consuming darkness. The cold that emanated from it was palpable and wretched feeling. Whatever pact and writ he agreed to, these things stood for all that is cold and wrong. Celestia, detested this creation. That was the feeling. It stood there unmoving, silent as the still air. It made not one move. She knew what this was. Intimidation, and to some degree it was working. Whatever purpose this one was about, it was waiting for her to make the first move. The moment she took action. The very instant she made a move the fight would begin in earnest. Were they allowing her to prepare? It could have jumped her at any time now. Yes, for some reason it was being held back. Was this more of that sick and twisted game being played? They must want to defeat her at full power and capability. It would for them as well be a serious boost if she should fall under those circumstances. Whoever they were, it was desired she be brought down hard as was possible. Truly demented. This was part of their plan from the beginning. While being held captive it was likely they could have killed her at any time. Luna was probably only accidentally allowed to live through that. If not for Twilight and her friends interference would her sister already lay dead? The puppet twisted it's head down to pull forth a heavy steel line connected to a bit-attached chain. A morning star. Conflict's second favorite weapon. The heavy ball slammed into the ground. It was obviously heavily enchanted and weighed a ridiculous amount. These things strength could not be denied. It was time to tackle this maddening false thing. "I am Celestia, a princess of Equestria. I have lived through many many dreadful years. Every single time I raised the moon alone my heart felt like it was being crushed to see that reminder of what I had to do. Endlessly, over and over every year I did that, for her. Know that I would have done the same for you as well. A million times over if I had to. If it would but put an end to this madness." Celestia took a deep breathe and readied herself to attack this apparition of murder and despair incarnate. Right now at least, there would be no more words spoken. --- For all a lonely life waiting, only to have love taken away