Fall of Empire

by Sixes_And_Sevens

Conquering All

Sweetie took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Doctor,” she said quietly. “That is, without doubt, the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, and that’s including Button’s ‘Cutie Mark Crusader Assassins’ plot.”

Sombra started. “Assassins?”

“We were eleven, he thought it was something to do with donkeys.”

“Oh. Yes, this idea does sound marginally less thought out than that.”

“Marginally.”

The Doctor rubbed his forehead with a hoof. “Look, I don’t like the idea of going back to face that any more than you do, Sweetie, but we don’t have much of a choice. Anyway, we do have some safety measures. Sombra’s already demonstrated that he doesn’t need to worry about any attacks, and if worst comes to worst, he can wake us up.”

“Okay, but what exactly do we do once we’re in?” Sweetie asked pointedly. “I don’t know about you, but all I can remember is being all sulky. I guess that’s not much different than you usually act anyway!”

The Doctor blanched, and Sombra rested a hoof on the young mare’s back. Instantly, she drew into herself, hooves over her mouth. “Doctor, I’m— I didn’t mean it like—”

“Astutely said,” the Time Lord said stiffly. “It was something that’s needed saying for awhile now, I think. Ditzy wouldn’t stop dancing around it for months.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it,” the mare said quietly.

“I imagine that at long last, the stress of the situation is getting to you,” Sombra said. “Given the nature of the storm outside, I suppose it was only a matter of time before we all began to succumb.”

The Doctor set his jaw. “Well. I’m not giving up yet. We still have one last shot at this. We need to at least try it, don’t we?”

Sweetie considered him for a long moment. Then, she sighed. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

The Doctor’s lips twitched up around the edges, and even that was forced. “So… how do we do it? Just… get scared, I suppose?”

“Wait, you didn’t answer my question!” Sweetie said desperately, but even as she spoke, the Doctor’s eyes turned an unearthly shade of lime. He tipped over onto his side, unresponsive. The young mare stared down at his prone body. “Well… great. Now what?”

She looked up at Sombra. “I don’t suppose you have any insight?”

The former king mulled that over. “I suppose that the thing to do would be to… awaken inside your dream. Perhaps if you were to overcome your fear, then the beast could no longer contain you.”

“But how can I do that?” Sweetie asked, plopping down on her rump. “They cut me down, take away my self worth. They make me feel like dirt, just ‘cause I don’t have a cutie mark. So unless I can get a cutie mark in the next… three minutes, I don’t think I’m gonna win this one.”

Sombra considered the young mare for a moment, then sighed. “Sweetie Belle,” he said gravely. “I have something which I must tell you. Come closer.”

She looked at him warily for a moment, but trotted towards him. He stared down at her for a long moment. Then, he pointed to his flanks. They were still covered by saddlebags. Sweetie looked at them uncertainly. “Is this about how you always wanted to travel? Are they full of like, old maps and a compass and stuff?”

“No. They are, actually, but no.” Sombra unbuckled a strap on top of the bags, and they slid off of his flanks, revealing… nothing. Nothing at all. He had no cutie mark.

Sweetie Belle’s jaw dropped. Sombra snorted slightly. “If I managed to run an empire without a cutie mark for politics, there is surely no end to what you can accomplish, regardless of what lies on thy flanks.” He hesitated. “That said, I am certainly not a good role model for— oof!”

Sweetie Belle rubbed her cheek against his barrel, hugging him as tightly as she could. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Sombra stared, flabbergasted, at the off-white mare. Then, slowly, he smiled. It was a very nice smile indeed. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, wrapping his hooves around her slight figure.

Beneath them, the ground shifted, the yellow leaching out of the hideous chartreuse shade as it faded into a lovely light blue. “Alright,” she said, letting go after a few moments. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?” She closed her eyes, letting herself hear the voices in the back of her head loud and clear, the ones that were always there to nag at her, eat away at her ego and generally make her feel inferior. It sounded a little like Diamond Tiara and a little bit like Rarity in full lecture mode, and a whole lot like her own voice echoing around her head late at night. Then, her teeth firmly grit, she stepped into the patch of green-yellow crystal that still surrounded her, the voices needling at her, telling her that she wasn’t good enough, never did anything right, ruined everything. Her eyes snapped wide, glowing bright green.

Her legs wobbled. Her ears flattened. And down she fell.

With a well-placed hoof, Sombra caught her, and settled her gently on the ground. The circumference of the circle in blue shrunk slightly away.

---

Sweetie sat alone in a dark room, staring at a picture. Her friends stared back, eyes empty, smiles forever frozen in an instant of time as the faint radium light of the radio reflected off the glass. She sighed miserably, hugging the photograph to her chest. How she wished that those days could have lasted forever. But they had moved on, and she… hadn’t. She was still here. Wherever ‘here’ was.

Then her brow wrinkled up. “That’s a point,” she muttered, setting down the photo. “Where am I, anyway? And… aren’t I meant to be an old mare? I… how did I get here?”

She frowned and rose from her rocking chair, making for a door that she wasn’t sure had been there before. The darkness of the room began to rise and swill about like oatmeal being stirred, sticky and lumpy, but she ignored it. It was only darkness, after all.

---

Sombra stared, incredulous, as the floor beneath the young mare began to fade from the lurid shade of green to light blue. He almost smiled, but then his eyes flickered over to the Doctor. The bay stallion lay unmoving on the floor.

---

Sweetie found herself in a dark alleyway lit by a flickering, greenish gas lamp, her stomach empty and her coat covered in filth. She carried a sign. She glanced at it, confused. It read, Markless, please help. Hadn’t she just been in a darkened room which had no distinguishing features aside from a rocking chair and a photograph? Or something? The sound of hoofsteps attracted her attention, and she glanced up.

A rotund stallion with fudge-colored coat was making his way up the road toward her. She blinked. “Button?”

The stallion turned his head slightly and sniffed. “That’s Mr. Mash, thank you. Mr. Mash of Pomegranate Industries. And who are you?”

Sweetie recoiled slightly. This was not her Button. He was too oily, too cold, too stiff, like some kind of well-greased clockwork. Also, his eyes were glowing red. He raised an eyebrow. “Well? Tick-tock, I’m a busy stallion.”

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“Since you began talking? Too long. Good day to you, blank flank.”

He turned to walk away. Thinking quickly, Sweetie Belle sang “We are the Cutie Mark Crusaders…”

The weighty stallion froze midstep, as though the strings pulling him had been trimmed.. The entire scene flickered, as the light refracted oddly. For a second, Sweetie wasn’t sure what he would do. “Trying to find ourselves,” he murmured, setting down his hoof. “Sweetie Belle? What’s going on? Where are we?”

The unicorn smiled, vindicated. “It’s a dream,” she said triumphantly. “I thought it didn’t make any sense! Mysteriously appearing doors, changing scenes, it didn’t work! And then when you came in, well, that clinched it. You’d never act that way, not to anypony.”

Button made a face, then sat down by the unicorn. “So, wait. Is this your dream, or mine?”

“Mine, I think. I remember something about the Crystal Empire.”

“So… am I just, like, a figment of your imagination?”

“I guess so.”

“Huh.” He looked down at himself. “So this is what you see in my future?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re not really big on exercise, are you? Or healthy eating. But I guess that just means there’s more of you to love, ya big marshmallow.” She reached over to pull the larger stallion into a tight squeeze.

“...Actually, I meant being a selfish corporate jerk. But it’s good to know I’m cuddly.” He grinned as Sweetie pulled further into his embrace.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I always pictured you as being successful in some big important technology job in some big city. I guess my mind filled in the rest of the blanks in a really lousy way.”

He grinned. “Heh. Well, thanks for believing in me. So, what exactly is going on?”

She let go, her smile fading. “I… sort of remember some things. There’s some kind of creature in here with us, trying to attack me.”

Button was instantly on the alert, his eyes darting up and down the alley. “Where? It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

“Not like that. It wants me to fall into despair, or fear, or rage. It’s very negative.”

“So I was a selfish jerk earlier because…”

“It thought that it would hurt me. If I wasn’t sure this wasn’t real, it probably would’ve been right.”

The stallion blushed, ruffling his mane with a hoof. “Eheheh. Sorry.”

Sweetie snuggled into hi side. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault, just like it wasn’t Sombra’s fault.”

“...Sombra?”

Sweetie blinked. “Sombra! Right! I remember what I was doing now! Sort of!”

Button scrunched up his nose. “I don’t follow.”

“You’re a part of my imagination, you should know what I’m thinking.”

The stallion shrugged. “Sorry, Sweetie.”

She shook her head. “Never mind. The important thing right now is getting out of this dream and meeting up with the Doctor. Do you see a door or something anywhere?”

Button leapt to his hooves. “Uh, I guess there’s the school door over there.”

“Oh, yeah, ri—” She paused. “School door?”

The sun shone brightly overhead, nary a cloud in the sky. She and Button were sitting together outside the Ponyville schoolhouse. The stallion had returned to colthood once more, and when she looked down at herself, she felt a profound sense of vertigo, as though she didn’t know what size her body was meant to be beyond ‘Not this.’

“...Okay. This is weird.”

Button massaged a temple, and for a second, he flickered back to the stallion that he’d been in the city, and then the young adult he'd been the last time Sweetie had seen him. “...Ow. My head hurts. We were in an alleyway a minute ago, right?”

“Hm.” Sweetie regarded the schoolhouse, and got the distinct impression that something lay beyond those windows, watching her in return. “...I think this is my original nightmare, but… backwards?”

The colt cantered nervously on the spot. “So… is something going to attack you? What should I look out for?”

Sweetie shook her head. “It’s going to be subtle,” she muttered. “I’ve beaten it twice already, this is its last shot. Whatever it is, it’s inside there.”

“So don’t go in there,” Button said. “Duh.”

“I have to,” Sweetie replied, her face growing stern. “I need to face my fears. That’s the… the only way to beat the game.”

Button considered that. “This is the final boss battle?”

She shrugged. “At least the end of the level.”

The colt looked at the red schoolhouse and nodded. “Are you scared?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“Thanks.”

“Hold hooves?”

Sweetie smiled. “Sure.”

The two gripped hooves and walked forward.With her free hoof, Sweetie pushed open the door. There was a terrible moment of vertigo, and then

“Well?”

Sweetie’s eyes came back into focus. A mare was staring back at her. The face was familiar. The expression on that face was not. “Miss Cheerilee?”

The teacher (for if it was not she, it was a bloody good facsimile) sighed. “I asked you what you were going to be when you grow up.”

“Um,” said Sweetie.

Cheerilee turned around. “Apple Bloom is going to be an engineer. Scootaloo is going to be a mathematician. Dinky already is a Time Lady, though how that pays the bills I’ve no idea. Rumble is going to be a Wonderbolt. Even Snips and Snails are going to be a barber and a malacologist. But what about you?”

Sweetie glanced around. Dozens of unfriendly faces stared back, far more than could reasonably fit into a classroom. More ponies than had ever been in the classroom at once stared at her, each familiar face silently judging her. She tried to speak, but a hard lump rose in her throat like a rock. Or perhaps a crystal.

---

Sombra peered at Sweetie, concerned. The blue was rapidly fading away, and Sweetie rolled over onto her back, whimpering. The stallion reached toward her, but pulled away when she flinched back.

He didn’t know what her dreams held, exactly, but their earlier talk gave him a decent idea. “You are not alone,” he murmured. “You have friends. You have the Doctor, you have me. You have others, presumably. Button Mash, you mentioned earlier? The one who tried to be an assassin?”

Sweetie let out a low groan and flopped over onto her stomach. The Doctor was still motionless. Sombra bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood by accident. “Please, Sweetie Belle,” he whispered. “You saved me. You saved the Doctor, and you saved Jade, did you not? You can save yourself. You need to save yourself.”

---

“Come along, class. Recess for everypony while Miss Belle thinks about what is obvious to everypony else,” Cheerilee opened the door, and the glorious golden air filtered in.

Sweetie’s mind felt feverish and labored. This wasn’t meant to be happening, was it? There was something wrong, very wrong. And there was something that she was meant to be doing. Occasional flashes of familiar faces in the swarm heading out the door brought with them tinges of memory, but nothing concrete or lasting came with them. Only bits and pieces, sound and fury.

“Can you believe—” whispered a filly

“—doesn’t even have a cutie mark—” a colt snorted

“—so sad,” said a foal of indeterminate gender, not looking at all sad. None of them did.

“Only thing she’ll grow up to be—”

“—is a blankflank loser.”

And then Sweetie stood. She didn’t rise from her chair. One moment she was sat at her desk, and the next she was on her hooves. There was a sensation of vertigo, but it was outweighed by the rush of adrenaline overcoming her. “I know what I’m going to be,” she said calmly.

Everypony stopped.

“Impossible—”

“—can’t be—”

“—no mark!”

“I know what I’m going to be,” she repeated, looking around the room. She saw Button smiling back at her, Dinky grinning and smacking one hoof against the other in eager anticipation, Apple Bloom staring proudly, Rumble glaring around, looking for anypony stupid enough to insult his friend, Scootaloo smirking and leaning forward, ready to hear what came next. And at the very back of the classroom, her newest friend, Sombra, quietly mouthing the words, “Save yourself.”

“There was always only ever one thing that I could be,” she said.

“A loser?” some unknown voice piped snidely. A moment later, there was the sound of a skull being thumped against a desk.

“Thanks, Rumble!”

“Detention!” Cheerilee snarled, eyes red and oddly glassy and Sweetie wondered how she ever could have mistaken this phantasm for the real, kind, true Miss Cheerilee. “You can’t know what you’re going to be! You aren’t marked for it!”

“I know what I’m going to be,” Sweetie replied, smiling beatifically. “I’m going to be me. I’m going to be the best Sweetie Belle that I can be, with my friends or on my own. I’m going to be cheerful and bright, and help ponies even when they don’t want me to. I’m going to sing songs that I made up in the shower, and I’m going to sing them in the middle of town, too. I’m going to be curious and nice and frankly dreadful at cooking, and I’m going to be a little annoying, especially to Rarity, but with a sort of endearing charm! And as long as I do that, as long as I’m myself, my friends will still love me! And I will never, not ever, be alone!”

She stared at the frozen tableau around her, still smiling. “And that’s what I’m going to be when I grow up.”

The entire scene shone bright blue for a second, and Sweetie could see crystallized forms shining through, just on the edge of vision. And then it broke apart.

---

The red light flickered for a moment, and the entire crowd winced collectively, Luna included. Even the massive cloud pony seemed to dissipate momentarily. The veteran thestral that the evil abomination had been speaking through growled. “You’ve gotten lucky, Majesty.”

“Don't call me that.”

It continued as though it couldn't hear. “A brief stay of execution for you, while I deal with a minor inconvenience.” He jerked his head toward a bright green tower not too far from the square, and a squadron of crystal guards promptly stampeded off.

Celestia looked on, unimpressed. “They beat you before, and they’ll do it again,” she said calmly. “You may as well save yourself the embarrassment of a flankbeating and just leave now.”

The thestral wheezed a laugh. “Who, the Doctor? Out of all you counteractive elements, he’s the only one actually still under my spell.”

Celestia s eyes went wide as cruel laughter echoed all around the square, reverberating off of the shifting sides and vertices of the empire. As abruptly as it began, however, it cut off. The thestral’s body leaned in menacingly. Celestia did not flinch. She didn’t dare show weakness. “Won’t be long now,” it cooed, the emotion not showing in its eyes.

The princess licked her lips in the cold, dry air. Not too far away, her sister’s eyes flickered upwards, just for a moment.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

“We were eleven, he thought it was something to do with donkeys.”

"Also jumping off of buildings into haycarts."
"The philosopher? What did he do to deserve that kind of treatment?"

Ah. A twist foreshadowed by the show, but one can never be entirely certain what does or doesn't apply to the Wibblyverse.

I’ve beaten it twice already, this is its last shot.

Button nodded at this faultless logic. "Three hits brings down the boss. Unless this is a Souls-like."
"Bite your tongue."

This is going to be very interesting. Sweetie's affirmed herself as a philosophical nemesis of the entity in charge... but said entity still has a very powerful piece under its thrall. Gallifreyan doldrums are as overblown as every other part of their psyche. Looking forward to the next confrontation. It will likely be a lot more epic than just about anyone involved expects.