You Wouldn't Believe Me if I Told You

by PinkiePiedPiper

Prologue: The Stage of Nightmares

Ok, so I have never actually written a fanfic before, but I have done some editing. A large chunk of this story is a dream I had, so I hope I can keep this story going with pure conscious imagination.

Aaaaand here is the disclaimer: I don’t own MLP: FiM, aside from my Pinkie, Rainbow, and Applejack figures. Oh, oops! I don’t own the RIGHTS to MLP: FiM. That belongs to Lauren Faust and Hasbro.

You Wouldn’t Believe Me if I Told You

Prologue: The Stage of Nightmares

He could not believe it.

She was dead.

After all he had done to delay the inevitable. Everything he would have done to delay it further, perhaps save her.

His wife was dead.

Sven was on his knees in the middle of a small field, embracing the slightly broken, bloodied, and still smoking body of his wife, hoping to the gods that Camilla was safe in Savengarde. He hoped she was there, or at least, somewhere other than where he still was.

He hated this place, although he was not sure of where this wretched place actually was. Although the field looked similar to the one just outside of Riverwood where they had been having a picnic by the river, there was no longer any river. There was only the field, perhaps 500 foot square of it. And then there was nothing. Not even a cliff leading into the abyss. It was a flat square field, suspended over a dark, cloudy nothingness. A few miles away, there was one object he could see that broke up the emptiness. One lone structure he wished to the gods either was not there, or would collapse into itself in the very near future. He tearfully glared at it with all he had, trying to accomplish its downfall with sheer willpower.

It was a tower, and no small one, either. It was a huge, black, jaggedly menacing tower. Sven knew buildings could not be evil in and of themselves, but if they could, this would be a tower constructed of pure malice, evil, and hatred. It must have been over a mile tall!

The tower itself was not even the worst part. It was the top, the pinnacle of the tower that showed the true evil of that massive creation. Between the two thin, needle-like protrusion on the top of the tower was the Eye.

This Eye was wholly unnatural. Despite it being entirely disembodied from, well, a body, it was also wreathed in red and orange flames, seemingly flowing from the slit of a pupil and connecting to the tips of the twin needles on either side. This Eye could speak; it had no mouth, but it could speak. It had spoken, it must have spoken! Otherwise Sven knew that he could never have done the things he had. It had called itself Sauron. It told him to do evil things, toying with him, bending his mind, doing its will. The same could have been said for the others who were gone now, so many people gone now. At first it had been just him, Camilla, and Faendal. He had always hated Faendal, still did. Faendal was still here. He was always trying to steal Camilla away from him, asking passing adventurers to send her nasty letters in the guise of being from Sven. Granted, he would have done the same had the adventurer come to him about it first, but that did not make it right!

Then came the others.

It seemed like the whole population of Riverwood had just shown up here, no buildings, just people. One by one, those poor fools had died. Some gave in to Sauron’s will; some were killed, by others or by Sauron’s horrid machinations and traps. They had been here for days, or what certainly must have been days, possibly weeks. They never felt hunger or thirst, unless that was part of the test. When that happened it hit them hard, and there was little to eat other than grass and the other contestants, and the grass disappeared and the dirt turned to stone for those rounds. Early on that stupid blacksmith had denied the possibility that they were truly over nothing, that there was ground just underneath the smoky, black clouds. He decided to jump.

He screamed for an awfully long time before he died.

Or did he die? Perhaps he was just too far away to be heard.

Suddenly, Sauron began to speak again. It did not quite sound like a sound, more like an invasion into his head. A voice, deep and slow, harsh and maniacal, echoed through Sven’s brain. And, as always, he and Faendal were forced to remain motionless as the Eye flooded their vision without them even looking anywhere near the tower.

“Well done, Faendal. You managed to get past Sven and kill Camilla. I commend your determination to escape my nightmare.

In fact, I commend both of you. You have shown great resilience to my powers, and have outplayed and outlasted everyone else in this little game of mine. By this point, you both know that there is never a winner of my game until no one is left. Yes, that is right. I am the winner. I always have been, I always will be. Neither of you will escape, neither of you will survive!

But I shall not end this yet! This game shall continue in place of formulating a new one with fresh challengers. Say hello to your new inmates! Make them feel at home!”

With that, the Eye in their vision faded out. Sven and Faendal were released from Sauron’s hold, collapsing to the grass from the sudden return of autonomy. Sven immediately noticed that Camilla’s body was gone. No trace of her was left, not even the stains of her blood that had been on Faendal and himself. He did not even care anymore. He just wanted it to end.

It was then that he noticed something was off. Tower, Eye, grass, dirt, Faendal, me, and…!

That is where the checklist now should have ended, but it did not. Sven let out a startled cry, which alerted Faendal to the newcomers to their little slice of hell.

The first one they saw looked relatively normal. It was a tall, strongly built young man, no older than 20, with short blonde hair. He was wearing the strangest clothing, certainly not any clothing, robes, or armor they had ever seen before, as they had never encountered blue denim jeans, a black T-shirt, or Converse All-Stars shoes. But that was the least of their attentions

The other two were smaller, about 4 feet tall, standing there stark still, not yet aware that they were there yet. But that was not the odd bit.

They were ponies. Unlike any they had ever seen before, but distinctly pony-ish. The first one was a bright purple colour. It had a darker purple mane and tail with a stripe of pink that ran lengthwise through both. It also had a horn and a starburst mark on its flank. The other one was a sky blue with a brightly coloured rainbow mane and tail. This one had wings and a multi-coloured lightning bolt on its backside.

The tall human came to his senses, reeling after the sudden transportation. He would have stumbled off the edge of the platform had not Faendal, the quick thinking and moving wood elf that he was, grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him back towards the center of the arena. The new guy, looked around him, taken aback by the surroundings, but Sven noted a look of recognition in his eyes, almost as if he had seen this before in a picture or heard of it in a story. He took in the tower, Sauron, Faendal and Sven with what could almost be described as bewildered excitement. But when he spied the two horse-like creatures, he nearly doubled over in joy.

“Holy crap! Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash! This is incredible! Whoa, is that Sauron and the dark tower? That’s crazy cuz I just watching Lord of the Rings! Are you guys Sven and Faendal?! From Riverwood in Skyrim, right? Dude, I must be dreaming!”

They just nodded, shocked and amazed by the odd reaction this guy was having, and not so much by his familiarity with them personally.

He must be a powerful being to have all of this foreknowledge, thought Sven. I should probably stay on this one’s good side. Those cute, colourful pony things must be on his side already or something. I wonder if they are powerful, too…

Faendal merely thought, I wonder if he has been here before… and who will I kill next of these four…