At The Precipice

by Teh dr3am3r

Chapter 5 : Revenge's Bitter Taste

Chapter 5 : Revenge’s Bitter Taste

“Oh Scoots, you look so beautiful!”

The orange pagasus looked at herself in the mirror again. She couldn’t honestly deny the dress was pretty, but it wasn’t really her style. Miss Rarity’s dress fit her perfectly, and Sweetie Belle’s incessant babbling about the wedding had made the experience of getting sized and fitted less than entertaining. But all that planning and straining and having her lungs crushed by tight bodices was finally going to pay off.

Sweetie looked in the mirror at her friend and giggled, “He’s one lucky stallion.”

“Ah still don’t git why ya’ll gonna get hitched so quick.” Applebloom was lounging on the couch, magazine in her hooves. “Ya’ll only been together for like, a couple ‘o months and ya’ll are already uppin’ to get married?”

“It’s been a year Applebloom, and beside he’s like perfect for me. We like the same things and hardly ever get into fights.”

The earth-pony shrugged and continued staring at the same page she had been on for the past hour. “Ah been in like a hundred relationships and never got nuthin’, an’ yer tellin’ me you made it on the first try? Somethin’s not right here.”

Scootaloo just ignored her, she was prone to complaining about her many failed relationships and she and Sweetie were used to brushing off her whining. She looked back at herself in the mirror and could see the door opening in the reflection. The pony that came in was obviously drunk as Scootaloo would expect.

“Hiya girlssh, mind if I-” the mare tripped over her own hooves and fell flat on the floor. With a grunt she righted herself before staggering over to the nearby couch. Applebloom barely had time to get away before the mare flopped heavily on the couch with a drunken sigh.

“Go ahead and go girls, I’ll take care of her.” her two best friends nervously looked at each other and nodded. After they were gone Scootsaloo looked back into the mirror. “What do you want Mom?” she spat coldly. She had little patience for the bright orange mare, especially when she was drunk which was practically one-hundred percent of the time.

“Weeeeelll...” she drawled. “I jus’ wanted to see my girl before her big daaaaayyyyy...”

“You’re not welcome Mom, just go back home and drink yourself under the table. That’s all you’re good for anyway.” She didn’t have to see her mother’s face to know her words hurt her, she just didn’t care about her mother’s feelings anymore. Scootaloo had to raise herself ever since her dad left, no thanks to her mom.

“Look, I’m shhorry about teh drink. it jus’... helps... with your dad ya’know.”

“And so you just think you can come an ruin my wedding? Is that the only reason you’re here? To ruin my life?” She couldn’t hold back her temper or her anger anymore, she hated her mom and the stupid booze and no silly apology would fix more than a decade of neglect. Nothing can fix those wounds. A single tear leaked from Scootaloo’s eye, but she brushed it away, her mother didn’t deserve any of that.

“I jussshh don’ want mah girl to do what I did, jus’ marryin’ some good-lookin’ stallion-”

“I don’t give a buck about what you want!” Years of pent up anger just spilled over, spouting hate-filled words that had festered since her foal-hood. “You sat there drowning in the beer and wine, never giving me a thought! You are a pathetic excuse for a mom; you were supposed to get off of that damn couch and raise me! Spend time with me! But no, you drank yourself into Tartarus and that where you can go for all I care!” She lowered her tone, finally looking her mother’s tear stained face dead in the eye, pouring all of her malice into a glare that rivaled Fluttershy’s own.

“So you can just leave.” she growled. “Now.”

The old mare remained still for several long minutes, tears flowing like rivers from her grieved eyes. She’s so pitiful. I don’t care. She sniffled and rose from the couch, suddenly sober. The mare left without a word, and Scootaloo preferred it that way. One word and her own eyes would burst forth like a levy. She looked back at the mirror, suddenly not feeling very beautiful, just hideous and ugly. Like a monster.

<>

“And do you, Flash Racer, take Scootaloo to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Across from Scootaloo, he grinned and winked at her. “I do.”

The priest turned to the mare who could barely contain her mixed joy and grief. “And do you, Scootaloo, take Flash Racer to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

She tried to plaster on a smile, hoping for Flash’s sake that it was convincing. “I do.” The words felt so final, so complete, and she felt an eerie calm take over her. Her smile suddenly became natural and real.

“Then I pronounce you mare and colt. You may kiss-”

BOOM

The timbers of the church doors shook in their frames and cracks ran up the length of the oak. Another tremendous boom shook the door, followed by another, fracturing the door more and more with each hollow crash. Silence enveloped the small chapel for several quiet seconds as they waited, for what, they did not know.

Suddenly the doors exploded inward, shards of the door flying every which way, impaling ponies all over the church. Several ponies screamed in alarm and in terror as giant humanoids with icy-blue skin rushed through the shattered entrance, swinging giant swords made of ice. Behind the giants, a slow wave of frost and cold crept over the ground, passing over the dead and freezing all who touched it in place.

Hel stepped through, looking around at the carnage as the last ponies were slaughtered like sheep. The jotuns produced their grisly trophies, severed heads, speared infants, and whole hearts ripped out of the chests of their still living owners under them, screaming fierce cries of victory. Beside her, her Niddhogg poked its head in and caught a fleeing mare in its jaws. Her screams were cut short with a sickening crunch and spurt of blood as his teeth bit down on her frail body.

Hel looked about the desecrated room with satisfaction and her eyes fell on a duo of ponies lying dead on the altar, one male and one female holding each other in their final moments, a bloody shaft of wood speared through their touching chests.

<>

“There.” Baldr pointed a hoof at a small drawing of a fire that appeared on the map. “The town of Ponyville has been attacked and destroyed. They are moving swifter than we first believed.”

“Hel wants this to be a quick war, and it well may be. We will remain here, where the defenses are impenetrable. Those niddhoggs would butcher us in the open field.” Odin said casually. He propped his foremost hooves on the table and traced a circle about the mountain. “They can only attack the gates and we have several jarls prepared to fend off the niddhoggs until the jotuns are eliminated.”

Baldr calmly nodded and looked over the map again. Little drawings of fire were scattered over the enchanted parchment, beholding the goings on of the entire nation of Equestria. A flash of light and a loud pop behind the gods signaled the arrival of another pony.

“Odin! Fenrir is coming here!”

“Impossible. He does not know of this room.”

“I ran into him in the halls, he can smell you. He knows and he can easily break through the wall, I’ve seen what he can do.”

Odin turned and looked at her as one might a filly, “As have I, and I tricked him and buried him centuries ago. Magic is stronger than any brute strength.”

“But not smarter than any mind.” the wolf’s deep voice cut in. The entire room exploded into chaos, most scrambling to defend Odin while Baldr searched the shadows for him. All the while the sleipnir stood with an arrogant grin on his face, either fearless and foolish. He underestimated him because he had not incurred his wrath, but this time would be very different. The ebony wolf looked on from the darkness as the ponies very nearly had a panic attack from fear. They did not know where he was, nor would they until he was ready.

“Show yourself you coward of a dog!” Baldr bellowed from the entire other side of the room. The wolf scoffed at his stupidity, at all of their stupidity. They rushed to stand in front of Odin, covering everything except the table, the direction from which the wolf watched. A simple leap and two or three strides would close the distance in less than a second, and Fenrir bathed himself in his own hubris.

“So you come for me at last, little pup.” Odin taunted. How did Tyr’s hoof keep you company?” Fenrir rose to his feet and crouched, ready to race ahead and make his kill.

“Well enough, old fool.” He raced around the edge of the room as the ponies, gods and mortals alike, rushed to defend their rear in a loud clamor of armor and yelling. His footsteps were unheard through the din as he circled around his prey. Once Odin’s back was turned, he quickly changed direction and shot across the room like a bolt of lightning.

His paws struck home, vaulting the sleipnir over the heads of his guards. Without missing a beat, Fenrir dashed between a valkyrie’s legs and pounced on Odin, clamping his jaws around the back of his head and tugging his flailing body away from the stunned crowd. As the wolf expected, they all rushed forward to attack, but a fierce growl and increased pressure on the sleipnir’s head stopped them all.

“W-wait! Don’t kill me. Your mother died of-of old age! I-I didn’t kill her! Don’t-”

Fenrir released he head to speak, and pressed a paw firmly on the inside of his throat, cutting off his breath and silencing him. “I will kill you, not because of Mother. I always knew Loki was lying about the sun and moon. You tricked me and buried me like a corpse, and now I will bury you, but as a true corpse.”

He replaced his jaws and pressed harder onto his throat, forcing a choked gagging from the pathetic creature beneath him.

“Fenrir, wait!” The wolf glanced up, not releasing Odin who began to flail madly in a strangled panic. “Remember? A life for a life? I gave you your wish, to have friends again. Isn’t that enough? Why do you have to kill? What about your friends? If you kill him then your friends will die!”

“I have Hati, and when I kill YOU,” he growled, pressing his face into Odin’s terrified eyes. “Skoll will return,” he looked back at Twilight. So young, so kind. “And I will never be alone again. The world will die under our wrath, our vengeance will consume the earth. Hel promised us.”

“Do you really believe that Hel will follow through? Why would she help you? Once you win she will hunt you three down.”

He chuckled, filled with arrogant joy as the sleipnir’s face began to turn blue. “Then we will kill her, no one can hope to defeat us when we are together.” Before she could change his mind, he bit down violently on Odin’s neck and snapped it with an effortless jerk. His flopping instantly stilled as his life ebbed away into whatever afterlife awaited the gods.

He looked up, staring into the shocked eyes of all the ponies, valkyries he remembered so dearly, gods and alicorn’s he so begrudgingly recalled. He remembered every one of their faces when he was bound. He remembered the relieved smiles as they congratulated themselves as he failed to break those accursed ribbons.

He held aloft a paw and watched the filthy silks dangle from his foot, almost taunting him. He put the paws back on the ground and looked into each and every one of their eyes. Grief and fear flooded through them, and they remained paralyzed except for one earth-pony who pushed through the crowd and knelt before his father’s corpse. Fenrir looked at Vidar apprehensively as his broze eyes slowly drew themselves to glare at the wolf.

A fierce yell burst from the pony as he whipped out a white sword. Fenrir felt nothing as his lightning-fast reflexes pulled him out of the way before the ivory blade struck home. The blade whistled through the air, barely missing the tip of the wolf’s nose. The pony swung the sword like a madman, flailing the deadly edge like lightning, filled to the brim with adrenaline. Only a few seconds passed before the ump-tenth swing narrowly missed the black wolf by a hair’s breadth.

“Die!” he suddenly screamed, startling the wolf for the barest moment, but it was enough. The tip slid through his flesh with hardly any effort at all. Fenrir didn’t really feel any pain as the blade pierced his heart, it only felt like something was tugging on his innards. He sank to his knees as he watched his life-blood jet forth from the wound like a geyser as the blade was violently torn from his body. The world grew dark, light fading from the world as he collapsed, and he felt his spirit abandon his body and sink into the gaping abyss.


Author's Note:

Shot chapter is short. Oh well. These are my first author's notes on this fic, I just had all of this written and put it all on at once. I really wanted to convey Fenrir's hatred and rage, but also his loneliness and grief. I really hope that I did that well enough, I got into a writing slump quite often during this one.

Comments

[Cloud Cat]

Just finished reading up to this chapter and this. Is. Awesome!
I love this take on the Norse myths, they are some of may favorites and its great when I see stories that incorporate them.

I always have felt bad for Fenrir in the mythology. His trust was betrayed by one of the only friends he had in Asgard when they imprisoned him for something he had not actually done yet. It's funny, but I don't think he would have become destined to kill Odin if they had not imprisoned him.

Please, do continue!

[Teh dr3am3r]

Norse mythology is also my favorite, I just had the idea when I looked at a deviant of Fenrir, Skoll and Hati. Imagination went ballistic and this vomited from my brain