Rarity and the Devil

by The_Last_Centurion

Beethoven's 7th

This story is a fan-fiction of MLP:FiM. I don't own any of it. It belongs to Hasbro, etc, etc.
Don't sue. Seriously. That would be so uncouth.

Beethoven’s 7th

The portal opened up on the bluff that overlooked the Ponyville’s pond. Lucifer walked out of it, feeling more tired than he had in centuries. He ambled slowly to the edge of the cliff and sat, letting the overwhelming darkness of the night embrace him. He looked up and saw the stars and the sky and then back down to the land occupied by Ponyville. He remembered this land, back when the world was wounded from the last war of the humans. Before that when humans still roamed the land, killing the greenery so their greys and silver metals could rule. Earlier still, when nothing existed on the rock but flames and molten lava, reminding him of parts of his prison home. He giggled despite himself, remembering the foolish things the humans did and how easy it was to get them to join him. In fact, he barely even had to do anything. All of their arguing and mental struggle caused by the whole notion of “good” and “evil” led to their downfall; both spiritually and physically.

But the time of the humans was gone. Now was the time of the…ponies. The strangest choice for the next rulers of this planet. Yet, Lucifer didn’t argue against it. They were much more docile, less apt to cry out over simple differences like skin color or religion (if these ponies even had religions). Yet, they still struggled over the notion of “good” and “bad.” It seemed all creatures on this planet would have problems with those concepts.

Or so it seemed. However, within the dark night, something attracted Lucifer’s attention to a small house one the edge of the main town of Ponyville. It was lit, despite the late time of night and it defiantly stood against the darkness. But what really attracted Lucifer was the soft music that he could hear coming from it. It was the strange syncopated beat of synth drums that pulled him in for some unknown reason. Contrary to popular belief, Lucifer did not enjoy just heavy metal and other musical genera that could be looked at with displeasure. In fact, he was a fan of all music. It probably stemmed from his “light bearing” beginnings.

As he approached the front door of the house, in what seemed like a drunken state, infatuated with the simple tune that put his mind at ease, he peered jealously through the windows. Within, he could see a platinum coated unicorn mare with an electric blue mane and tail talking to another mare, this one an earth pony with a tan coat and black mane. There was a break in the music and they spoke to one another. None of their words fell on Lucifer’s ears, nor did he care. Simply, he saw why he had been so attracted to the music. While the ponies probably couldn’t see it, he could see the bright lip marks of the muses, blessings to all those who create art, on the bodies of the two ponies. He smiled slightly, knowing that they didn’t know about these marks, but on some subconscious level, they had been attracted to one another. As Lucifer pulled himself away from the window, he knew it could have only been fate.

Lucifer walked away from the house and started to mindlessly able through Ponyville, thinking as he walked. He remembered his escape from Tartarus and Hell, seemingly easy in retrospect. All he had done was pay off Mammon and have him release his powers in certain places of Tartarus. Soon, all the prisoners of the pit became jealous of the outside world, causing what Lucifer saw as a harmless stampede to the gates. Of course, they wouldn’t escape and they would all be pushed back into the pit by Cerberus and the other guards of the pit. However, Lucifer expected this.

Using his full powers he could have left the pit easily, yet he did not want to be caught. Using his full powers could make that happen. So, he changing himself into nothing but shadow and darkness instead and created a portal on the ground below him and the only other exit: inside Cerberus. It seemed strange, but the magical shield that prevented any from leaving also stopped prevented any magic from being done to escape. Yet, one creature could go through the barrier. One creature lived in both the world of the damned and the world of the free. This creature was unhampered by the shield.

Lucifer resided in Cerberus in his shadow form for a full week before something happened to allow him to escape. Another uprising, this one with unknown motives to Lucifer, ravaged through Tartarus. As Cerberus lept into battle, Lucifer had only one choice: leave or get stuck behind the barrier yet again. Cerberus barked, sending waves of daemons back with just the power of his shout. Lucifer rode out of the beast as a sound wave, changing into shadows as Cerberus and the guards became occupied by the uprising. Then he promptly left with another portal, sending himself to the outskirts of Ponyville, in the much tamer Whitetail woods.

He stayed there for a few days, then came to Ponyville amidst a storm. He sat in Ponyville as a destitute. He had just escaped from his imprisonment, but no what? He felt a sudden surge in himself to fall back to his old ways, those of lying, deceit, and spreading the deadly sins throughout the land. But then time and wisdom caught up to him. He wanted that no more. He was tired. So tired. The pain was gone, but now he felt nothing.

Until that shining moment. It was destiny.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at his sudden romanticism, but when you live immortally, you tend to know what fate is and what isn’t. That was when he realized just where he was. His eyes widened and adrenaline surged through his body.

“Shit.” He said frankly as he changed his direction and raced off towards the Carousel Boutique, the dark night warping around him. He had been gone a little too long. He knew of somepony who would be in hysterics.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A lady never made herself inebriated. Tonight was different though. Rarity sat in the “store” section of her home, a room which could easily become a sitting room for entertaining guests. Tonight, it was filled with blood stains, scratches, broken furniture, and one crying mare. She had been there ever since Lucifer had disappeared, not knowing what was, or had, gone on.

She didn’t care though. All that mattered was knowing if Lucifer was alright or not. She had sat there, only to get up to get a few things: her comfiest bathrobe (which would get dirty with daemon blood which Rarity did not care enough to clean from herself), various mugs of chamomile tea, and something she had never once opened. Given to her by her friends Rainbow Dash and Applejack after one Hearth’s Warming Eve where all they were astonished she could out drink them, was one bottle of 190 proof Everfree Everclear.

Rarity had certainly not grown up as any other lady would, her parents both being very salt of the earth ponies from Vanhoover, despite the fact that Rarity was a Ponyville pony, born and raised. They were not exactly what any pony would call “high class” but, they did teach Rarity various important things that stuck with her into her adult life. Her love for her friends and family, her generosity, her eye for the small things…and a high tolerance to liqueur. She never did silly things, like chugging bottles and dropping as many shots as possible, simply because it was stupid, juvenile, and very unclassy. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t drink with the best.

Earlier in the day, she started off by grabbing a mug of tea and pouring some Everclear, one of Equestria’s strongest alcoholic drinks, into the tea. She was stricken by grief of the unknown. As the day dragged on, the empty tea mugs started to pile near her couch and the bottle of Everclear became increasingly emptier. Sometime around dusk, Rarity fell asleep, not of her own will, but because of the alcohol.

Moments later-or so it seemed to her-the door of the Boutique flew open, awakening her with a jolt. She looked at the door frame with bleary eyes and got up from the couch, too quickly, making her stumbled around and her vision swim even more so than it was when she was sitting down. But she ignored all of this as tears trickled down her face and she ran to the figure in the doorway. When she reached him, she threw herself on him, crying and in hysterics.

Lucifer looked at her guiltily as she wept around her hug. He closed the door behind him with a shadowy push and gently placed a hoof on her back.

“It’s alright.” He told her softly.

“I…I thought you died!” she blubbered. Lucifer looked at her pitiful form and felt ashamed. She wore a large, puffy bathrobe-stained with his and Beelzebub’s blood which she had washed away from herself. She also smelt heavily of alcohol. Clearly, she had been drinking, which had not helped her worry.

Lucifer smiled gently. “I’m immortal. I can’t die.” He lied to her.

She looked up to him, tears creating meandering paths through the caked black and maroon blood on her coat. Her face was a mess and so was her soul, so Lucifer could only do one thing, something he had not done in a long time with no strings of deceit tied to his actions. He would comfort her. Not out of want for her soul or a spread of darkness, but because…well, he knew he had to do it.

“Come.” He said, holding onto her as he trudged back to the sofa, an oasis among all the blood stains, holes, and destroyed furniture of the room. He sat there, with her in his arms and just breathed. The air smelled of alcohol, fighting, and fear. He quickly made that all disappear as a shadow opened a window and also swept across the room. He also let Rarity cry some more as he gently stroked her mane, using his magic to remove the grime and sine of the daemon blood from her. He marveled at how she was fine despite being covered in the blood, something that would drive any normal pony insane.

She’s special. It was fate. Lucifer told himself in his mind, his smiling waxing.

“Ok, enough with the crying and sobbing. You ruining my coat.” Lucifer said, making Rarity laugh sadly.

“I’m sorry darling… it’s just…”

“Yes, you thought I was dead. It’s been a long day. I’ll help you upstairs and you get some rest.”

Rarity shifted herself out of Lucifer’s embrace. “Alright.” She said dejectedly, getting up and stumbling back into Lucifer’s embrace. He sighed and slipped under her, throwing her onto his back. Rarity squealed out in surprise and blushed. Lucifer started up the stairs and eventually got into Rarity’s room, the one place in the whole house he hadn’t been in yet.

Rarity’s bed took up most of the room, a large queen size that was not only covered in silk sheets, but also was postered. The curtains around the bed were parted a little, showing the large amounts of pillows on the bed, all as exquisite as the sheets. Lucifer toted her over to the bed, but stopped half-way, turning and going over to two closed doors.

“Which one is your bathroom?”

“The one on the right.”

Lucifer wedged the door open and then let Rarity slide off of his back.

“Clean yourself up. ‘Covered in daemon blood’ has gone out of style.”

She laughed and closed the door. Lucifer then heard water running and waited around outside the door, just minding himself until his curiosity took the better of him. He looked off to the left of the bathroom door, to the other unopened door and went over to it.

He opened it and found a large walk in closet that was not as filled as he thought it would have been. Sure, there were many opulent articles of clothing and hats that caught the eye, but they barely made a dent in the size of the closet. Suddenly, the water shut off and the bathroom door opened, revealing a beautiful mare with a slicked back mane and a coat that was back to its pristine condition. She looked beautiful.

“Like the collection?” she said, walking over to Lucifer with a wobble.

“The lack of it, yes. But we can talk about that in the morning when you are sober. It’s bed time, miss.” Lucifer said with a wag of his hoof as he took hers in his. He led her to the bed and laid her into it and tucked her in. Rarity threw her hooves around his neck and started to pull him into a kiss and the beginning of their night, but Rarity found herself kissing a shadow Lucifer had put between him and her.

She pulled back and made a face, sticking out her tongue. “That’s gross! It tastes like…boysenberries gone bad!”

“I know. But there will be none of that tonight.” Lucifer said sagely, again, revealing his age with his words. “You’ve had a rough day. Get some sleep.” He said before the lights in the room went out and he disappeared.

Rarity sunk into bed a little angry, her plans and romantic fantasies gone awry. However, something else bloomed inside of her. A mixture of respect and care spread throughout her core, making her happier than she would have been if he stayed. She smiled slightly and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seaddle was naturally a sleepy town. It rained almost constantly, the ponies were about as grey as the skies, and the large city (no matter how fun and exciting the music scene tried to make it seem) always had a lazy kind of air. Not the kind of lazy a pony feels on a rainy Sunday while sitting cozily next to a fire and reading a good book. The kind of lazy that drives ponies to see that there is nothing exciting in this world, the kind that leads to worn down natures and so much apathy it could kill a pony. It often did, too.

As Uriel walked the streets of the city, he was unsure if this was the evil magic of Belphegor acting upon everypony, or it was just the nature of the city. Each pony he saw had a ragged look, one like he or she was just too tired to continue. It was strange, walking through this city of bleak grey and statuesque ponies and having the only “light,” being the only one who acted like a pony should.

Uriel’s angelic memory flashed to him as he wondered what kind of creature Belphegor was. Some time in the past, before the Great War, he had been called Belphiel. He was the “dream bringer,” or at least he would be, before he fell like his comrades. Then he became the prince of sloth, the lazy beast. Over the course of history, Uriel, or at least his angelic part-as what he believed it to be-never had trouble with Belphegor. His powers were not enough to effect or even contend against the other higher daemons. Yet, here in this city, his powers seemed to have grown in tenfold! Uriel wondered why and how, but then he thought back to the night prior. His dreams told him all, but he could only remember bits of it.

He was back in the bright dreamscape of pure white, but he was no longer in the clouds or even different. He was himself, but he was seeing double. He could see himself, the tan coat, the white mane and tail, the cutie mark that surged with power, standing amongst fog on the ground while he floated above himself. However, he could also see out from his pony body, and saw the bright silver flame that he was, flying above him.

“Hello.” The flame and he said.

“This will be painful.” They repeated each other. But then, a high pitched screaming entered Uriel’s pony body and he could feel his world tearing apart, his dreamscape falling piece by piece towards nothingness. But then it stopped, leaving him feeling dazed and confused. Suddenly, the silver flame enveloped him.

“I am Uriel, the Archangel. I am also you.”

“Huh.” Uriel said with a deep throbbing in his skull.

“I was created an Archangel, but I was born into that body. For years I have laid dormant.”

“Huh.” Uriel repeated making the fire laugh.

“It will become apparent as we become one. For now, I will lend you just parts of my power. You will still be mortal, so be wary. You will also more of my past and me of yours as time goes on. Do not worry. You will still be you, and I will continue to be me, but soon we will be one.” He said, floating away from Uriel on the ground. Suddenly, Uriel could see what looked like the silhouette of some strange creature with only two legs, which stood upright, and had six large wings sprouting out of what would be its back.

The form seemed to smile at Uriel with flaming eyes and a luminous grin. “Don’t try to wrap your head around it. Last time that happened, I had to take control before the mortal went crazy. See you later.”

The dream went back to the peculiar screaming and then all Uriel could see was white. It slowly faded into the dim morning sunlight under the cloudy sky. Uriel rose and knew he had a job to do.

So he walked. And now he stopped on the streets, being passed by ponies left and right, all of them ignoring him. He could tell that Belphegor was somewhere in this city, but there was only one way to pinpoint it. He spread his wings and took flight, shooting up from the dreary city and into the drowsy sky. As he flew above the city, circling around skyscrapers whenever he could, he felt for the presence of Belphegor. Surprisingly, it came to him faster than he would have thought. And while it was just a small trickle, it was constant. He snapped his head in the direction of the dark magic and shot out of the sky like a peregrine falcon, only coming to rest when he was above the source of the darkness: an old and rusted storage complex.

As Uriel flew closer towards the complex, he landed on the roof. He found a stairwell that led down into the complex and opened the door to it. Immediately, a heaviness weighed down upon him. He knew it was the magic, making him slightly tired and somewhat saddened, but he walked down the stairs anyways.

Entering the building was the easy part. Traveling down the flights of stairs through the empty building, which was deteriorating on the inside much faster than the outside for unknown reasons, Uriel felt the presence increase, the weight become heavier and heavier, until he was at the ground floor. By then, he was struggling to even stay on his hooves. He reached the last flight of stairs and tumbled down it, the weight growing heavier and heavier, until he was crushed beneath it in the basement. As he went head over hooves, he hit against a wall of the sublevel, hitting a switch and illuminating the entirety of the basement and also setting off some sort of intercom. While he laid on the ground, the unmistakable, yet creepy through the broken down spears, came the sound of Beethoven’s 7th symphony which echoed through the corridored basement. Uriel tried to rise but the pressure kept him down. However, he was able to turn his head from the ground, gasping as he did so for two reasons.

The first was because of the intense willpower it took to just move his head.

The second was what he saw. Throughout the hallways and corridors of the basement, he saw bodies of different ponies all lying about. Some were asleep, while others, staring off into space, panting, but not trying to fight, while the last were just corpses. It had seemed if they had just given up. As if living itself was too much work. Uriel felt a surge of rage within him, something uncommon for a pony as cool and collected as he. Yet, this rage helped him. It gave him the strength to crawl through the corridors, past the sleepers, against the loafers, and over the dead. It was brutal, guttural, and for every move made closer to the sound of the music, he could feel the pressure increasing, trying to make him just like the rest of the victims.

But this just steeled his emotions. As he came closer and closer to the door which the music and pressure permeated through, he rose. Something within him pushed him up from the ground, despite the force of the magic trying to push him back into the crushed, crawling form he had been just seconds ago. The music went quiet as he reached for the door. He opened it with a push and the door creaked open into a well lit room.

Inside of the room, he saw the contents of the room, what looked like a forge of a distinguished blacksmith, and the daemon. He saw Belphegor. The creature was lying upon a large industrial anvil, his eyes barely open, and his unhealthily skinny body rattling with each breath. He could also see from the color of Belphegor’s body (a dark grey) and his eyes that he was in his full. Uriel knew he was in pain, but just too tired to care. As he saw Uriel in the doorway, the pressure increased tenfold, sending Uriel to the ground with a shout.

But Uriel came here on a mission. He grit his teeth and felt something inside of him grow and grow and grow, until it exploded within him and he stood, his wings flared and holy flame at the edges of his lips, eyes, and along his wingtips. Belphegor’s eyes widened and the pressure increased over and over, in attacking waves, but they did nothing but buffet Uriel as he walked slowly towards the daemon.

Belphegor heaved a breath and Uriel could see his body rattle quickly as the daemon became scared, but then settled as his nature took over him. He was scared, undeniably so, but he had become too tired. All efforts in living, other than just breathing and sitting there, became a lost venture. All Uriel felt when he struck Belphegor was pity.

“We should just lay here forever, friends.” Belphiel had once said in the past, his laid back attitude calming all of his friends and making everything peaceful. But now...

Uriel waited until he was completely frozen over and then did something he didn’t even know he could do. He quickly made some intricate sigils upon the ice, each glowing blue with some sort of power, and then pulsing when Uriel was done. As he lit the ice aflame with holy fire, the whole thing disappeared in a flash. Uriel knew he had sent Belphegor back, but not how he had done that. He felt a certain familiar presence at the base of his neck, but he had no time to ponder: he had five more daemons to send back, including Lucifer.

That was his mission…despite Lucifer’s apparent change…

He walked out of the abandoned storage facility, ferrying all of those ponies who were still alive out before he stood near the building, spreading his wings. He summoned his powers once more and brought two powerful gusts of wind that also carried holy flames within them, destroying the building, cleansing the souls of the dead, and sealing the remnants of Belphegor’s power.

He flew into the sky and looked around. It was midday. If he flew hard while it was still daylight, he could be quarter-way to Fillydelphia by nightfall.

He started off to the east.

He had a mission.