Taken
Twenty-one years was a long time for many, but it was especially long for Butter Bloom. Eighteen of them were around other children. They passed by slow. The other three years were with him in a care ward surrounded by worrying nurses.
The entire weight of those twenty-one years hung heavily on his mind as he stared out the window opposite the end of his bed. The night sky looked as lovely as ever. Wonders of magical speckles on a dark canvas, with a large white paint blot for the moon.
He couldn't sleep. His mind was running wild tonight, filling his head with what-ifs and could-Is. The more they persisted, the angrier he became.
Butter Bloom had a severe case of cerebral palsy. His motor functions simply didn't allow him the free reign of movement other ponies could. His life was spent in a wheelchair or a bed as a result.
But among similar patients in his ward, who looked dead to the world, Butter Bloom felt alive, full of passion and potential. He was described as a "special case" among the nurses. His reflexes weren't as slow when they flicked a light in front of his face. He showed no interest in the foalish playtoys they gave him. There was a spark in his eyes, a look of longing, unsatisfied with the world he was living in.
Butter Bloom yearned to be free.
To shrug off the incapacitating flesh constraining his desires! It was his greatest dream. No thought was as strong in his head as the notion of being just like everypony else.
To jump, to leap, to run and dance! To climb a mountain, swim a mile, dance at a party, sweep a mare off her hooves! To love and be loved in return! Cast spells with his magic that would dazzle the eyes of all who saw! To exist with the capability to fulfil his wildest dreams!
But Luna never answered those dreams. She never offered a way out of his trapping nightmare. Neither did the mythic Discord decide to show up and cure him! Ignored by all and left in the hooves of mere caretakers… a long time ago, he had grown tired of it. Now, though…
Now…
Now his feelings collected into sheer anger. Those thoughts in his head were ambitious, hurtful, developed over long years of regret. This much he knew: No matter how many times other ponies told him he was gifted or special, that was just their way of telling him, "You will never fit in with society and you will amount to nothing. Retard."
The door to his ward opened. He quickly shelved his emotions away. A pleasant white mare with an ivory body and a curled red mane in a bun trotted in pushing a creaky cart. She was his favorite. She was fifty-five years old and greying in her hair, but her energy was as lovely as ever.
As she passed by his bed, she gave a smile that warmed him. "Hiya, Butter! How are you feeling?
Terrible. Awful. Take me off this planet. Please.
"Buh bugh ablepp."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm… sure you are," she responded hesitantly.
You understood nothing. You will never understand anything. And I don't want you to! I like you too much to put you through this constricting life!
"Apderr haa ahh. Ah."
"Hey, it's okay, sweetie," she said--sweetly. "You're doing great! I know there's something great in you!"
You say that to all your patients. That's nothing new.
"Oo plaphh. Agh." Curse this confounded mouth! He could barely speak! Those shelved-away emotions came back to play in full force.
"I love you, Butter. More ponies care about you than you realize. The world is a big place, but you can handle it! I know you can!
What do you know about my capability! I would become the most magical unicorn in the world, if not for this stupid, stupid, stupid lump of flesh I'm trapped in!
"Ah… plepp…"
"It's all right," she refuted, rubbing his mane with the gentlest touch. "You don't have to finish. I know what you're thinking."
If you did, you'd be shocked.
"Ah."
"Get some sleep," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "It's another big day tomorrow!"
Don't mention it.
"Sleep tight," she advised, then went back to her cart and wheeled it out.
When she was gone he groaned and tried to thrash in his bed. He managed to wiggle a little bit, but not enough to get him out.
Where was his life?
Where was the joy of working hard at his dream job to pay for his own home? Where was there an opportunity to stop, bend down, and smell the roses? Where was his dream family? Where was the mare on his shoulder that loved him for who he was?
Yeah, right. No one loved him for who he was.
They said they did, but their love was only pity. So they felt like they had to make it up to him because they felt sorry for him. Let me take you to a baseball game, said his dad, and tried to play catch with him. Big problem here! I can't catch the ball! Then throw it, Butter! Throw the ball! You can do it! So he shakingly held the thing, and imagined hurling it clear to the moon itself, and he concentrated, harder than he ever had before, and he threw the ball with all his might, and it barely cleared ten feet before rolling to a stop.
That "love" only gave him frustration. All he wanted was to be a pony! But nooo, no, some evil entity had decided to curse him with a frail clod of flesh instead!
Butter Bloom moaned (like some stupid monkey roaring for his food) and tried to bash his head on his mattress. Confounded body!
About the fifth time he tried, he happened to look up to the ceiling. He expected to find darkness up there.
What he didn't expect was for the darkness to blink in curiosity.
That wasn't supposed to happen. Since when did the darkness grow eyes? Go away, you weird thing. Leave me alone.
"Shllpppp. Blppp."
The darkness blinked again and slithered down to his bedpost. It hung suspended in the air like it was a cloud of ink in pool water.
You're scaring me now. Back away!
"Blppp! Ack ay!"
The darkness extended forth a curious tendril to examine his face.
That's the last straw! Just because I'm a lumpy meaty vegetable it doesn't give you the right to come up to me!
"NNNOOOO!"
The darkness froze in… shock? It was hard to tell. But it surprised Butter as well. That was the only coherent thing he could say? Normally he couldn't speak a word. And here this word comes, roaring in defiance out of his mouth from the depths of his stomach.
"Be not afraid," the darkness soothed.
You're a demon!
"I am no demon," the darkness--a female--said. "There is no such thing."
Butter Bloom paused. He hadn't said anything, had he?
"You haven't," said the demon. "I am in your thoughts. I know every intention of your heart, Butter Bloom."
The words chilled him to the bone. Not just her knowing his name, the notion of her reading his thoughts, or her knowing his heart's desires. Those weren't what he focused on. What he focused on was the way she made him feel as she spoke them. Goosebumps rose on his twisted flesh. His eyes fluttered involuntarily. His heart seemed to shrivel like a raisin and pound hard against his chest.
"You are the worthy vessel I have chosen, Butter. With me, you shall do many wonders."
Butter blinked. Me?
"Yes. You."
You must be mistaken. You want someone with an actual body, not some bag of meat with their organs all jumbled about inside like scrambled eggs.
"You are perfect. With no other options, who else can you turn to but me to recognize that those desires you hunger for are only a hair's breadth away?"
What can you offer me?
"Stop doubting my abilities--I never doubted yours. All you need is the strength to carry out your desires. I will give it to you."
No thanks. I'm good.
"Liar."
Butter gave the darkness an evil glare.
"It's not your fault, though. The sinful, shameful world always tells you what you should want--and them dangles it just out of reach. You never truly experience the ability to shape things the way you need them to."
I still don't understand what you need from me, though.
"It's quite simple, really. Tell me what you want."
What I want?
"I offer you… anything. A glass of water? It's yours." With a bright flash, a small cup of water appeared on his bedside table. "A bag full of priceless gems? Yours." With another flash, a mesh bag of small rubies, sapphires, and emeralds materialized on his lap. "Look deep within yourself. Look inward, and tell me what you want."
Butter Bloom did. He thought hard and long for something reasonable she could grant him. Eventually, he settled on something he had theorized the idea for. He called out to the darkness: How about an iron frame to support myself while standing?
"Done." With a flash, the pony framework appeared by his bed.
Butter stared in shock. How much did one of these cost? He could practically afford a royal chariot-
"Would you prefer a royal chariot?" With another flash, one appeared at the foot of his bed. It gleamed gold in what little moonlight came in.
His mouth went dry. He began to quiver, ever so slightly. How about the Canterlot castle?
"A private room?"
No, he said. The whole building.
"Done."
But that's privately owned-
A flash appeared. The deed for the castle was floating in midair. She pushed it towards him. "Not anymore."
You can't just-
"Yes. I. Can. Is there anything else? Name it."
His gaze happened to fall upon the window looking outward into the endless night sky. A constellation he recognized hung next to the moon.
All right, then. The manticore. I'll take the manticore.
"The star itself, or the entire constellation?"
He gaped at her.
"Yes?"
You're insane. I can't.
"Yes. You can. If you actually wanted to, you could take it. You can have the entire systems of those stars as well." Her eyes were pinpricks in a growing mass of coiling shadow. "Do you get it now? I will give you anything you want."
A wild, insane thought crossed his mind. He didn't know where it came from, but he needed to ask the evil, dark question: What if I wanted the world to end?
"Would tomorrow be too soon?"
How? How can you do such a thing?
"All that matters is the present, and all things that constitute it."
...If I were to accept you…what do I do in exchange?
"You must do what you want."
What I want?
"All reality is subjective to your perception of it. Just as how you think life is unfair and cruel, you also shape the reality of your surroundings. Just as you are who you choose to be, the mountains are what you define them as. Ponies are good or bad, according to your definition. The ground is beneath your hooves, but you never walked on it. Alter your circumstances to work in your favor! Your reality is whatever you want it to be! But nopony can actually alter the fabric of the rocks and trees on a whim, save Discord, a special case." The darkness slithered ever closer. "And me."
Look, as much as you… make sense?... I can't. There's only one thing I actually, really want right now, and-
"I will make you walk again."
Butter Bloom halted in his thoughts.
"What made you think I couldn't turn your body into a strong vessel? I am capable of anything. You were in denial of what you said you wanted because you wanted me to help you, so you asked for more reasonable, secular things. I wish for you and I to become closer."
You barely even know me!
"I know you better than you will ever know yourself. I've been keeping an eye on you. You have the most sheer hatred in your head out of anypony around." The darkness scooted beside him and coalesced into a featureless female figure. Then it turned into a vivid blue unicorn with such long hair, and her body was warm and flush.
"Your special mind, full of anger, comes from your desires, Butter Bloom," she hushed, caressing his forehead. "We all have selfishness inside of us. It is not possible to shut out every urge we get. What you must do is draw that darkness within, and then fountain that darkness back out. By denying your passions, you are left with nothing."
Butter wanted to grab her, but his failed limbs just fumbled about uselessly as he tried to flop over.
"How does it feel?" she whispered. "You finally have someone you love right next to you, and you can't do a thing about it. This time, you are the one who put on that limitation by refusing my help."
Butter finally rested his crooked arm on her breast and tried to look her in the eyes. His kept going in different directions, though.
"See how hard it is? If only there was a way to fix this… within arm's reach…"
Butter couldn't take it any more.
I want it.
"Keep talking," the mare whispered.
I need your magic to become alive, for the first time in my life. I've been just behind everyone else, and I HATE IT! I deserve to be the first at something! Without you I'm a sick, worthless lump of bones and sticks and stupid grins. Am I even a pony? I'm a vegetable! Those other brain-dead idiots think life is great to them. They live in hell! I live in hell! Release me from this living torture, and I'll do whatever you ask.
"I will ask nothing of you," the beautiful mare whispered. "I'm simply interested in where this power will take you."
Then embrace me! I would do it myself, but I kind of suck at moving.
The mare melted into a puddle of goopy, black, icky stuff. It traveled along his hooves up his arms, coiled across his chest, and crawled in slimy tendrils up his face. It got into his eyes and nose and mouth.
"This may hurt a bit," whispered the black slime.
Pain's an old friend of mine, Butter thought. Full throttle.
In the space of a second, all the slime was sucked into his orifices. Butter choked and gasped. It was so sudden that he had no time to breathe. He began to thrash in his bed.
A cold, oozing liquid seemed to replace the crawling blood in his veins. It spread along his neck, and his forehead, and into his chest. From there, it spread into his arms, and down into his hooves. The bulging black veins stood out on his body like spiderwebs or branches of an insidious tree.
Then it pricked his heart, and he almost fainted. But the darkness kept him awake to experience it.
The liquid slithered from his heart into his lungs. From there, it traveled into his crooked spinal column, snapping it into place. Then it traveled up his brainstem into the base of his head.
Evil seeped into his mind. Tendrils of malicious intent embedded themselves into his head and took over his preexisting, primal feelings. Those prior feelings were inexperienced and untested. But the darkness had mastery over all evil things. It could drive that rage and fear into a force for the sheer power of ambition.
Very soon, fog coalesced off the skin pores all over his body. His beautiful green eyes, vivid as emeralds, faded away and were replaced by deep red ones as rich as rubies.
Butter Bloom sat up. His vertebrae worked properly for the first time in his life.
He lifted his arm. It wasn't disjointed, thin, or weak anymore. It was hard and muscular. He was actually more surprised that he could move his arms so dexterously in the first place.
His breaths came hard and thin. He was patting himself all over, to see if this dream was a reality as well.
"This… is…"
He could speak! And not sound like a brain-dead idiot, like those other vegetables in the same room as he right now. They were likely asleep, but even if they did wake up, what could they do? Moan? The nurses heard those all the time. He was safe.
Now, said the soothing darkness in his head. He felt cool and calm for the first time in years. What first?
Butter Bloom pondered on that. What should he do? He scooted off the bed and hit the ground on all fours. He tensed his legs, expecting to fall, but he didn't. Whoah. That was weird.
He took a few experimental steps, putting all his weight into it. They came easy, but awkward. He eased up on the pressure.
"Be casual," he muttered. Then he put a hoof to his mouth to examine how it worked. He felt numb there, along his jaw.
You still have no idea what to do from now on, said the voice.
"The way I see it," Butter Bloom whispered, clenching a hoof, "I get to do whatever I want."
He took a few more trots around his room. "Perhaps the first thing to do is to prove to the world that I do have magic, and that I can alter it to my mind's desires."
He concentrated. Magic encased his now-straight horn, but the aura wasn't green as usual. It was a bright red.
How to explain it? Butter had no idea. Millions of spells were open to him now. It was like he saw the list of options so clearly in his head. All he had to do was select what he wanted and do it. That simple. Reality could be whatever he wanted it to be.
With a wave of his head, all the stuff that had been conjured for him vanished.
Then he used his magic to create a swirling mass of dark energy around his hooves and travel up his body. Pieces of soft black leather covered his pure golden body, and atop that leather was armor plating, spiky and curved. Finally, a plain black mask covered most of his face except for his eyes and mouth.
Nice look, the voice commented. Why do you need it?
Butter indicated himself. He looked like a spirit lord. "This looks cool."
Fair point.
"And who's going to stop me?" he continued. "If I need to be the greatest pony in the world, I need to look the part."
You have no enemies unless you make them yourself, Butter Bloom.
"Who will volunteer to be my enemy?" he asked. "No one, that's who. These other ponies are simply other denizens that don't matter to me. And if they do decide to put me down, well, then…" He flicked his hoof, and red streams shot out of his arm and struck his bedside table. It collapsed with a clatter of wood.
"...I think I'll enjoy myself," Butter finished.