A Princess' Monster: Part 2

~A Princess' Monster~
[Part II]
|Employment|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

>You wiggle your toes as you open your eyes to the blinding light.
>Immediately you sit up, clutching the covers in your shaking heads.
>Your breath is ragged and your hair a mess, and you feel a slight sickness in your stomach.
>But you aren't dead. So that's something.
>You look over your body, trying to find any scars or wounds. To your relief you find nothing. You are totally unharmed. You think.
>Shaking your head you try to remember everything that happened.
>You came home late at night after a kill. Nothing was out of the ordinary was it? You try harder to remember but when your brain turns up nothing you become frustrated.
"I know there was something.."
>Your own voice somewhat surprises you. As if you shouldn't be able to speak at all.
>Now you looked around the room you were in.
>White. Nothing but white. White walls, white floors and ceilings. White furniture. It hurt your eyes.
>Pulling the sheets off you, you turn in the bed, placing your bare feet onto the cold alabaster floor. You shiver as you stand, your loose pajamas cascading down your body.
"I don't remember changing. And where the hell am I..?"
>Sleep still has its groggy handlers on you as you move away from the bed in an attempt to escape it. You make towards the vanity in the corner of the large room. It's a very quaint little piece of furniture. Lined with golden curls, resembling French Rococo.
>You don't sit, instead you lean in on your palms to look at yourself in the mirror.
>It's old, so old you have to wipe away the dust with your sleeve.
>Eventually you create a surface you can see yourself with and look over yourself once again.
>Nothing was wrong with your face, thank God. And nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.
>Then why can't you remember? Why is it that you awoke here with a memory gap?
>Dammit, you deserve answers!
>You spend a little time making angry faces in the mirror, smearing your visage all over it. This vanity will know your displeasure in being here!

>But soon enough you tire of playing games with yourself and you turn away. But as you do so, you catch something looming across your chest, poking its head out of your loose pajama top.
>You lean back in for another look. It was on the left side of your chest and curved like some sort of tendril.
"Strange.."
>You slowly pull at the neckline to expose your chest and what greets you sends you rocking back in slight horror.
>There on your chest is a charred black sun. Its blackness like the deepest chasm and as ugly as sin. You remember almost immediately. This was her doing.
>You run your finger over it and you instantly tense. There was a pain that pulsated throughout you at the touch. It feels like the pain reached its cold bony hands into your chest and grasped your heart.
>She has placed her mark on you. She wasn't kidding when she said she'd make you hers.
>But you didn't know that meant her scarring your body! How dare she!
>You stomp away from mirror and make a straight line for the door. Someone is going to get a very stern talking to.
>You place your hand on the cold door knob and prepare to yank the door open. And you almost break an arm, for the door was stuck.
>The door rattles as you continue to pull on it, but it doesn't budge.
>Then you opt to try two hands and give it a mighty tug. Again the door doesn't yield.
>You begin pulling with all your might. Even going as far as to place your feet on each end of the doorframe, lifting yourself off the ground.
>You pull. And pull some more. Then the door begins to creak. Almost! You've almost got it!
>Celebrations are already running through your head as the lock gives way and you're sent on your back side with the door knob in hand.
>It takes you awhile to come around again but when you do, you see the door cracked open.
>You stand, pleased with yourself. There's nothing a man can't do when he puts his mind to it!
>Tossing the door knob aside you stroll up to the door and open it. Only to be met by a wall of bricks.

>You groan loudly. Like a child who's parents aren't indulging him.
>The tantrum your throw is also similar. You stomp around in your room, tossing things over and screaming at the ceiling.
>Usually you'd care about acting so childishly, but now it doesn't matter. You deserved to let off a little steam after being kidnapped, branded, and forced into this room with no way out.
>Eventually you tire yourself and collapse on the bed.
>Your stomach growls, causing a rumbling in your lower body that you can't ignore.
"And what am I supposed to do for food!?" you call out.
>Naturally nobody answered. There was only your voice and the sounds you made with your own movement.
>You lay on the bed, bored and hungry. You hadn't either bothered to look out the window. The view was nothing compared to freedom. A caged bird could have a view of the entire kingdom, but he wouldn't get to explore it.
>You begin to trap yourself in shallow poetry, tucking your knees to your chin and passing the time with old songs and rhymes.
>Then you hear a soft creaking from within the walls.
>You snap to attention immediately and hop off the bed. Your body has now entered stealth mode. Something you had a great deal of practice in.
>The creaking doesn't stop, instead it continues on indifferent to you.
>Your ears have been trained to hear a butterfly's wing beat, though not really. You liked to think that.
>Still, you follow the sound over to a wall adjacent to your bed. Placing your ear up to it you hear the sound more clearly.
"Hmmm. A pulley. Three-hundred foot rope. It's....lifting something."
>You use your supernatural powers to determine what the source is. Though they aren't really supernatural, more just clever guessing.
>The creaking in the wall stops and you back away, not sure what to expect.
>A panel in the wall opens, one you hadn't noticed.
"Peculiar.."
>You lean in to peak inside.
>Inside is a neatly placed meal of eggs, bacon, four pancakes and a nice tall glass of vitamin C. Also a letter.

>You stand there staring at the plate. For some reason you don't trust it.
>You feel if you reach for it the panel would snap down on your arm and bite it.
>A moment passes, causing your stomach to rumble a bit more, paining you until you surrender.
>You reach towards the plate and gingerly retrieve it from the tiny elevator and go over to the bed.
"It's always a letter in these stories...." you say aloud.
>Before reading the letter you place it aside and dig in. It was a peculiar meal, considering you hadn't had any meat in a very long time. Ponies were herbivores, yet they kept live stock. Were they secretly savage meat eaters?
>The meal was still filling though. The bacon wasn't too thin, there was plenty of cheese in the eggs. The pancakes were even spot on. They reminded you of the old country.
>It's been awhile since you had such a great meal. Actually, you've been living off of stolen breads for a very long time so this was a nice change of pace.
>Downing the tall glass of orange juice, you turn to the eggshell white envelope on the bed beside you.
>It fits in your hand perfectly, and it smells like sunflowers. That's nice.
>You peel it open, wafting a stronger smell from inside.
"She must fancy perfume."
>Neat swirly curls of words dance across the parchment from left to right. It's much better than your own, and you don't think you'd ever get that good. Even with a thousand years of practice.
>You begin to read, squinting your eyes.
>"I take it you've awoken. Try and be more quiet. You'll bring the entire castle down with your childish temper. No doubt you have questions, questions I'll answer when I feel the time is appropriate. For now, I want you to focus all your effort into getting dressed. Your clothes are in the wardrobe. I am coming to see you within the hour. Wait for me."
>There is no signature, not that it needs one.
>You don't like the idea of having to wait on her. Knowing her, she'd probably make you wait all day.
>You sigh as you stand, finding the wardrobe.

>Marching over to the giant wooden exo-closet, you pull on the handles to open it.
>There's your normal attire, neatly sorted into the left side. On the right are more clothes you've never seen before.
>You pull one item from the right. A nice white button down with golden embroidery and frilled around the collar and cuffs.
>You nod, draping it over your arm. Next you pull some very nice slacks. A deep black with gold buttons trailing up the seams on the side. You nod again and continue looking through the wardrobe.
>Eventually you settle on your attire and begin to get dressed. You peel out of your pajamas, shivering slightly in the cold stone room. You'd bathe, but there was no tub. You'd have to mention that to Celestia.
>As you get dressed your attention is constantly pulled towards the large window. After slipping on your pants you stride over to it.
>It's high-noon. Not that late in the day. You were high up, very high. Must be in one of the several keeps that puncture the sky. But it's hard to tell which one.
>You watch the sky for a little while before becoming bored with it. Cloud watching just wasn't as fun as it used to be.
>You sit down on the bed and buckle up your boots. With that done you begin to wait for Celestia, at least for now.
>There's a clock in the corner. An ancient grandfather clock that ticks madly. A thick heavy sound that is heard every second. All it does is remind you of your boredom.
>A minute passes. Then three, then nine, thirty, until finally it's been a whole hour. At least it feels that way.
>Boredom threatens to overtake you should you stay on this bed for a moment more. So you rise, pacing frantically.
"I have to leave this place. I'll go mad if I stay here any longer!" you say aloud.
>You begin to search for ways out. You certainly weren't escaping via the window or door. No there was only on option.
>The service elevator sits patiently in the wall, the panel still open. It's just big enough.

>You smile, patting yourself on the back for the genius idea.
>You'll escape this prison and be among the people once more! All you need to do is tuck your elbows in and hug your knees.
>You poke your head into the small crate-like elevator. It smelled like oldness.
>Maybe this wasn't such a good idea?
"No. It will work. I just need to have faith."
>Yes, faith! Faith could make a man fly if he believed hard enough.
>You begin to hastily climb in. It's a tight squeeze but you manage to get yourself inside without too much hassle.
"Alright. I'll need the other components as well. I have faith. I have trust.... sort of. What was the last part?"
>You try and remember the third component to the formula but eventually turn up with nothing.
"Bah! I'm sure it'll be fine."
>Two out of three wasn't bad so the odds weren't terrible.
>You grab hold of one of the ropes between your legs and test it. Pulling it lifted you slightly higher.
>Obviously, that was the wrong rope. So you grip the other and begin to pull.
>With a few tugs you manage to lower the box a tiny bit. But hey, it works so that's good enough for you.
>Slowly but surely you begin to ascend. The box creaks with each tug, groaning under your weight.
>Pretty soon you're encased in darkness and unable to see. Now you're more or less a mouse scuttling inside the walls.
>As you descend you begin to grow tired. You're already several minutes in and you have no idea how far the bottom is. After another five you start consider that maybe you made a mistake.
>Maybe you should have waited.
>But you're already halfway! Maybe. It may be even harder to go back the way you came. You must persist! Freedom was only a few tugs away!
>......
>It has been what feels like several hours.
>Your arms can no longer pull. The tips of your fingers have withered away, leaving only your skeletal feelers. Your back hurts from being hunched over for so long. And you're pretty sure the crick in your neck will kill you.

>You're pretty sure you've gone insane, if you weren't already.
>The darkness has become tangible. Crawling up your legs and wrapping itself around your waist, intimately.
>It's deathly hot. It's the kind of heat that bleaches bones white and makes you burn your bare feet on the concrete. Extremely unpleasant.
>You can't even form a thought. It could be that you simply stopped thinking as a way to cope with this suffering.
>But a single word echoes in your collapsed mind. A question that'll haunt you for the rest of your life.
>Why?
>Why the hell did you think this was a good idea?
>You regret everything you've ever done. If this was punishment for your sins, it was a little cruel.
"This must be similar to how convicts feel. Deprived of any freedom....void of any sunlight. Oh the horror.."
>Your voice doesn't travel far, making it seem louder within the enclosed space.
>Right now, you are your only friend. And as far as you know, the last living creature in Equestria.
>After all, you had no sense of time. So to you, it seemed fairly plausible.
>How long has Celestia been dead? No, she was still alive. She had to be. But would she still be in power? It could be that some other fellow took power years ago.
>You entertain the idea of Celestia forced into hiding. Living in a hovel and barely staying alive. Her days of chair stealing and abduction completely over!
"Ha!"
>You laugh aloud, jolting your body and causing the service elevator to shake.
>Now you're reminded that you're still in the elevator and not some world of your own.
>Eons have you spent imprisoned here. But no more!
>You made a commitment all those years ago that you would escape this castle! Or at least that bedroom.
>Now isn't the time to quit. There are mares that need killing, and chairs that need sitting. You can't afford to sit on your ass, hunched over in an elevator between the walls.
>You once again take hold of the rope, age old dust falling from your revitalized arm and pull!

>You're descending faster now. You can feel it.
>One, two. One, two! The elevator is practically plummeting from how fast you're pulling. Soon enough, you'll crash at the bottom and be free!
>Nothing has made you more committed in your entire life. A wellspring of potential energy was suddenly tapped in the darkness and now it powers you like a steam train with too much coal.
>You begin to see light gently leak into the shaft and you become excited. Your palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, but you persevere!
>Nothing can stop you. Your arms are fine instruments crafted by gods and your will is as sturdy as Troy's walls! Nothing is unobtainable. Your goal is within clear sight. Reach out and grasp it!
>Light is filling the shaft and you can see out side for the first time in years. It's beautiful. Never before has there been a sight that has made you weep tears of joy. It feels like coming home.
>Your hands are burning and your biceps threaten to tear themselves from your shoulders. But you don't stop. Not when the promise land is so close.
>Finally, at long last you reach the bottom.
>Weakly you climb out, shaking and frail. But the light kisses your face so sweetly. You did it, Anon. You are free.
>You move to stand, but fear your knees may give out from under you. But you must at least try. Try and stand and bask in your freedom.
>Eventually you are able and you stand tall on your own two feet and gaze upon the world around you.
>Which is the room you just left.
>Celestia is sitting on the bed, her nose buried deep within the folds of a newspaper.
>"When I give you instructions I expect you to follow them."
>Her voice is low and sweet. But you can still hear the maleficence behind it.
>You quickly whirl around and throw your gaze at the elevator. It looks just as it did when you left. Which was eight minutes ago.
>You fall to your knees, utterly defeated.
"Mark my words, Princess. I will have revenge for this trickery!"
>"Trickery? Do you really think me that evil?"

"Of course I do!"
>Celestia recoils. She seems surprised and slightly hurt. But you don't care, you're only speaking the truth.
>She is the scorn of the virtuous. The caretaker of the damned. She is the death of hope!
>"It pains me that you think of me in that way. I had hoped we'd become friends, or at least you learned your place."
>Your place? You knew very well where your place is. And it sure as hell ain't here.
"My place is out there!" you say pointing to the window. "I belong outside. Free to do as I please. Not confined to this cell you call a room. For God's sake you've barricaded the door! And that trick you pulled with the lift is just cruel!"
>"You want me to allow you to roam the streets like some sort of wild animal? Anon, your being here is part of your domestication. As I said before you are mine and that's that."
>Celestia raises her nose in the air, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.
>She sets her newspaper down beside her and you suddenly feel something tug at your collar.
>Your feet leave the ground as you move through the air, against your will. It isn't until you're brought before her that you see the magical golden glow of her horn. Damned thing, you'd like break it off.
"Unhand me!"
>"I would, if I had any hands." she remarks while waving her gold plated hoof in your face.
>But eventually she lets you down and your feet hit the floor. You are now eye level, mostly because she is currently sitting on your bed.
>"I'll be frank with you, Anon. I didn't bring you here simply because I wanted a pet of the exotic variety."
>Really? You assumed she abducted you because she had some weird thing for primates.
>"Like I said, I plan to use you."
"And that entails?" you ask while taking a seat beside her.
>"Some ponies need killing."
 >Ah there it is. You're to be her assassin.
"You're the damned ruler of this nation. Kill them yourself."
>You take a seat on the bed and lean back on your elbows.

>"It's not that simple Anon. Though you've most likely lived under a rock these past years, Equestria's monarchy has been challenged. Young schoolcolts who feel their word should carry weight in my court. You give the ignorant knowledge and they bite the hoof that feeds them."
"I don't understand. Why not just give them their bloody say and be done with it?"
>Celestia rolls her eyes, very unprincess like.
>"They won't stop there. For years the peasantry- as well as nobility- have tried to push for democracy. An ideal that will lead this kingdom to ruin."
>Celestia was rubbing her head, tired from all the stress.
"Ah I see. You don't want them to take away your power. You want to remain on top."
>You're confident in your claim. So much that you go as far as to adopt the smuggest smile you can muster.
>The princess now looks guilty, her mouth folded into a frown and her brows slanted.
>"That is not the way of it. This isn't about my status as ruler or my desire to remain in power. It's about the whole of Equestria. What is needed for my subjects. They cannot govern themselves. They are too naive and childish. If I were to surrender control over to them they would lead the kingdom I've spent a thousand years forging into ruin. I only wish to protect them. From themselves. Ponies need somepony to guide them. Somepony wiser and more learned in the ways of the world. That is why I've come to you, Monster. Drown out these rebellious children. Purge the unfaithful from my kingdom."
>Celestia now gazes into your eyes with such intensity that you begin to struggle in your breathing. She was determined, devoted entirely to her ideal. Her resolution created an enormous shadow that loomed over you like great Death and embraced you. It made you want to do anything for her, and for that reason you were afraid.
>You stare unable to break your gaze from hers. She has you completely ensnared.

>You feel your heart drum madly within your chest. Thump-thump-thump it cries. "Let me out!" it screams. It wants to escape this otherworldly experience. Retreat into more familiar atmospheres. Anywhere but the presence of Princess Celestia.
>The both of you share a deep meaningful silence. Unspoken words shooting between you.
>But eventually you manage to break the silence when Celestia shifts her gaze to the window.
"You can't think that to be true. You may be their ruler but you're not their god. You can't lead them forever. It has been a thousand years. I'm sure they've evolved to the point where their able to think for themselves entirely. Let them leave the nest already."
>"No. They are not ready."
"Then when will they be ready?" you counter.
>"Who knows? Possibly never. Which is why I must be there for them. And to do this I need you're help. I have seen how each one of them live their lives. So fleeting and uncaring. They're too kind. Unsuspecting of the evils around them. For star's sake they try and befriend dragons! They are self-destructive. They are good ponies Anon. I won't stand by and let a few rotten apples spoil the bunch."
>You roll over sighing, not wanting to face her anymore.
"I have nothing to do with your politics. I am but a humble monster. I have no concept of greater good, I could care less about your country and its people. The world around me is susceptible to change, but I need not change with it in order to do as I please. But, I suppose I did agree to your proposal. And had I not I'd be sailing with spirits. But know this, Celestia. It takes a true monster to contract another to do their dirty work. It takes someone cunning, manipulative, and wise to influence those around them."
>Celestia erected herself, once again adopting her prideful airs.
>"What are you implying?" she asked sternly.
>You wave your hand back and forth playfully.
"Nothing. Though I hope you don't lose sight of your vision, then you'd be even worse than I."

>It's strange for you to think so, but in this moment Celestia looks exactly like you. Of course not physically, but spiritually? She is of course a monster, in her own right. Though she plays the role of the tragic hero, forced to make a sacrifice for the greater good. All the while having her lapdog perform the slaying.
>But behind that sinister intent was genuine care and love for her people. A love that can never waver. Not even if the heavens opened up and commanded her to relinquish their lives.
>Men aren't born with purpose. Same with pony folk and the like. We must all find our own purpose, our lot in life and role to play. Where you were a bit uncertain, Celestia knew one-hundred percent what her purpose was. To lead. To supervise her subjects for eternity.
>In that way you respected her. Celestia was a monster who hid from the shadows and walked in the light. Willing to do anything to preserve said light.
>However, monsters like her are dangerous. If left unchecked, their ambition may either decay or increase to gluttonous sizes. Celestia could be driven mad by her own purpose to the point where her frothing madness swallows the entirety of Equestria. And if that happened, how would you fulfill your own purpose?
>She claims ponies are the ones who need supervision when really it is her that must be watched.
"Very well then." you say rolling back over.
>She still has that painfully lovely gaze that caresses your heart.
"Ask whatever you may need of me. Consider your enemies my own."
>A devilish smile that could frighten demons assumes her pristine face.
>"But of course." she replies.
>She also hesitates which is uncharacteristic of her.
>"Thank you."
>That was strange. You could be wrong, but you're sure you see gratitude under that nefarious intent of hers. You don't get to comment on it as she stands. Her wings unfurled and her mane begins to flow like the wild currents of the sea.
"So what's the first order of business?"
>"The death of Lady Penelope."

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

>You exhale, your breath fleeing from your insides and into the cold night air.
>Once again you stalk the night, feeling at home.
>You're practically bursting with excitement as you make your way to Canterlot's very own cloud district. It wasn't often that you visited, but each time you did you found exquisite pleasures.
>It's the same with tonight.
>Lady Penelope, wife of a noble who is currently away. Recently she has been organizing meets with the peasantry in an attempt to plant the seeds of revolution. Supposedly she is very beautiful. Coat a pure platinum and mane of glistening ivory.
>You shiver as you stand out side the gates to her estate. Haughty iron bars stand between you and the inside. For most this gate would be a test of conviction. To give you the sense that you won't be able to go back should you cross them. However this is pointless for you. After all, you could never go back. Wherever 'back' was.
>From the pocket of your over coat you retrieve the key given to you by Her Majesty. A literal key to the city.
>You chuckle as you slide it into the lock. The only thing that'd make this moment perfect is if the key were comically oversized.
>The gate opens with a loud 'ca-clunk' and you push ever so slightly on it and peek into the mansion grounds.
>It's night and hard to see which makes it a bit difficult to truly appreciate the lavish garden that was the front lawn.
>You try and muffle your footsteps as you make your away across the cobblestone. You tip toe as cautiously as a cat, making your way through the mansion grounds until your hugging the walls.
>The front door is next to you, risen by some stairs. But you can't possibly just take the front door. Well you could, but it wouldn't be tasteful. You have to do this by the book. Sneak into a window or something.
>You look up and scan the second floor for and accessible windows.

>Sure enough there's door open on the balcony. That's your way in, you just need to find a way to reach it.
>You turn and reach into your bag. It just so happens that you have a grappling hook in your inventory. Celestia made sure to send you in with appropriate tools.
>You've never used a grappling hook before, but you figured it'd be simple. All you really have to do is latch it onto the balcony rails. you lengthen the rope in your hands before twirling the hook. Then it flies from your hand in an underhanded motion, knocking against the balcony floor.
>Now you pull carefully, trying to guide it to the rails. It grabs hold and you give the rope a might tug to test it.
>Success. Now all you need to do is figure out how to climb a rope. But you figure that too would be easy enough. You grab the rope and place your boots on the wall. Slowly you begin your ascent.
"Right, left, maintain breath. Stay out of sight and avoid death." you say in a very hushed drone.
>Climbing is a lot harder than you thought. It takes stamina and strength that you're slightly lacking at the moment. But you persevere. Only a few more paces.
>Eventually you pull yourself over the balcony and rest. The weather is getting to you. If you stay out here any longer you'll catch your death of cold.
>You immediately look towards the warm glow within the house. The only thing standing in between you and it is a light curtain flapping in the breeze.
>Quickly you pull up the rope and bundle it beside the rails and slowly move towards the door. Your footsteps are muffled and your breath is ever so calm. You were meant for this. This lurking in the shadows. Shadows cast by Celestia's radiant light.
>Slowly and carefully you pull away the curtain and peer inside. There is a fireplace, much fancier than yours, a very ornate lounge chair, and a desk. It truly looks like the home of nobility. You're even jealous the wallpaper.
>There was no one around, or so it seemed. And so you step in.

>The flames in the fire place seem to startle at your sudden presence. And rightfully so. For only the flames knew what your intentions were, yet they could tell no one. They can only attempt and hiss and crackle their warnings.
>Now that you were inside you perceived a better sight of the room. The walls were lined with books. Some as ancient as the princess and newer than the sixth season.
>You pussyfoot around for awhile, taking in everything completely until you're ready to move on. Supposedly there were only three ponies in the house. Lady Penelope, her son Telemachus, and their head maid. This would make it easier to move about.
>Moving over to the door leading into the hall, you hug your right cheek to its frame. You listen for a moment until reaching for the door knob. You pull gently, not wanting the creak in the door to be too loud.
>You poke your head into the hall and hear a voice from one end of the hall. A voice like falling ice and crunching snow. It makes you shiver.
>"Ms. Bonnet, could you come here for a moment please."
>"Yes ma'am!"
>The second voice came from the other end, from behind a corner. You hear hoofsteps begin to round the corner in a hurry and you peel back into the study. You wait until the hooves past by you, then fade from hearing. Then you look out again to emerge from the study.
>You follow the sound of conversation, a door that's now wide open and revealing a bedroom. Inching closer you pick up their conversation. The frosty voice- who you assumed was Lady Penelope, your delightful target- spoke first.
>"Thank you Miss. I shan't be needing you any longer tonight."
>"Well, if it's alright with you ma'am, I'd like to be going."
>"Oh? Rushing off somewhere?
>"Ehh....yes ma'am. See, my brother has been sick for almost five weeks now. I try to be with him as much as I can."
>You come to a stop by the door. You were close enough now to even hear their breathing. Without a sound you hug the wall by the door, making sure they can't see you.

>"Ah I see. Well then I shouldn't keep you any longer. Give my regards to your parents."
>"Will do ma'am. And you have yourself a good night. I'll be here in the morning around nine."
>You hear the maid begin to shuffle her hooves and turn to leave when she is stopped by the lady.
>"Oh and Ms. Bonnet."
>"Yes, ma'am?"
>There was a brief moment of silence between the two. As if both of them paused to read each other's expressions.
>"They found another victim last night. Ms. Heartstrings...."
>You feel a tingle run up your spine and you're force to give a smile. It always pleases you to hear others talk about your work.
>"Oh yes ma'am I heard. Such a tragedy. She played beautifully..."
>"That she did. My husband and I once attended a show of hers. I can remember feeling my heart ache as she strummed through entire lives worth of emotion. A talented mare she was."
>The two go silent again. Maybe reflecting on the mare that used to be Lyra Heartstrings. It does you good to know that people cared for her so. For you also cared for her. She was beautiful as she received your gift. In that moment you had thought you found love, only to have it fade with the light in her eyes.
>Lady Penelope speaks up again, this time adopting a more positive tone.
>"Do be careful Ms. Bonnet. Stay on the main road. Avoid the dark. Or Canterlot's own monster will snatch you up in his fangs."
>She wasn't wrong. But Ms. Bonnet will have to wait. You make a mental note of the name as you wait outside in silence.
>"Thank you ma'am. So like you to worry about the peasantry."
>You hear hoofsteps coming your way and you duck into the shadows by the door. Ms. Bonnet strides down the long hall before disappearing behind the corner. You listen to the clip-clop of her hooves fade out completely before you exhale.
>But you're motionless still. You don't move a muscle until you hear the door downstairs close with a thud.
>Now was the time.

>You slither into the room. A comfy space that resonated an air of peace. It was like sleeping in your mother's room when you were home sick.
>Lady Penelope sits in a rocking chair that faced the window. Your footsteps are as light as air and you move like the looming clouds.
>From behind Penelope looks like a painting. A lone mare calmly gazing at the night sky. Her mane a stark white and her coat a monochrome grey. She's in her evening gown, a modest white ghostly sheet that covers her from neck to hoof.
>Even from this limited observation you can tell she's quite lovely. A beauty who stands above most common mares. It makes you happy.
>You watch her for awhile, not really eyeing her for anything in particular. But it was sometimes nice to observe those who would fall your victim. You like to watch them in their last moments. Before they succumb to the mind wracking fear that was their imminent doom.
>Lady Penelope hums gently. A warm song on winds from the East. It fills you with thoughts of love and awe, something that had become very rare for you these days.
>After awhile you step up and clear your throat. The chair immediately stops rocking, as well as her angelic humming. You could feel her breath hitch in her throat and see her hooves grip the arms of her chair.
>She see's you. In the reflection of the window. You loom over her like a great giant of shadow and umbra.
>Her head slowly turns to you, her bespectacled jewel-like eyes staring into your manic lookers.
"Hello." you say pleasantly.
>You place your arms behind your back and put on the biggest smile you can muster.
>She's still frightened by you. You can see this in the way her eyes trace your monstrous figure. She see's you as a minotaur, yet your knees weren't backwards and your head was that of a hairless monkey. She recoils in horror and you love it.
>"What are you doing in my home?" she asks as calmly as she can manage.
>You give a shallow bow and lock your eyes on hers.
"Working."

>She is perplexed. You watch as she tries to unravel what that would mean. When she finds no answer she asks,
>"What labor have you in my home at this hour? Begone! I don't know who you are, but I will see you in prison for intruding on my property!"
>She stands and rounds her window side chair, her eyes burning hot coals. But you can tell it's all a front.
>Her knees quiver and her breathing is substantially uneven.
>Most didn't try and put up a fight. Most mares would immediately flee or catch the smell of your murderous intent and beg for their life. But not Lady P-e-n-e-l-o-p-e!
>She is a noble mare. One with pride! So stern and steadfast. It makes you a bit giddy.
"And if I refuse?" you call to her.
>You watch as her gaze begins to dart all around the room; she's trying to find any focal point that isn't you.
>You love when they try and ignore you. As if you'd simply go away if they didn't have to look at you. Some are actually surprised when you pounce on them, wholeheartedly believing you had vanished.
>"Wait. I know what you are...." Penelope says in a frightened whisper.
>She begins to back away. So you advance, your boots hitting the hard wood floor.
>"You're The Ripper!"
>You clap, a sound of thunder ricocheting off the walls.
"Bravo! You've figured it out! Congratulations!"
>Penelope's flank hits the window and she gasps aloud.
>"Why? Why have you come for me!? Don't you know who I am!?"
>She tries to adopt a more intimidating and proud speech, but it fails to impact you.
"Someone wants you dead, Ms. Penelope. And I've been employed to make sure that happens."
>"Employed...? By whom? Who could possibly want me dead? The nobility? That damned Prince Blueblood isn't it?!"
>You shake your head.
"No. But close. She doesn't take too kindly to you and your husband trying to force her the Magna Carta."
>Penelope's eyes go wide. Wider than a baby's. Her mouth hangs open, but only slightly. Just enough so that you can see her perfectly white teeth.

>"You don't mean... No! She would never!"
"Oh but she would! She told me herself in that damned condescending voice of hers. Apparently Equestria is no place for democracy. Or so she says. Personally I would have supported the idea. But when one offers you a choice that's completely one-sided, you can't do much to help."
>"You're lying! You sinful deceiver! Our princess would never order such a thing! She is kind... Too benevolent to allow such a thing!"
>You throw your head back in thought. She was right, in a way.
"Precisely. She is kind, which is why she's doing this. Most kind. She's looking out for you all in the long run. Or so she says. She claims to be such a know-it-all, but I think she just can't handle being deposed. Regardless, she gave me a job I must carry out."
>You reach into your coat and wrap your hands around your beloved dagger. Pulling it out, the blade glimmers in the lamp light of the room. Cold steel that would pierce the Lady Penelope's warm beating heart.
"Are you ready, ma'am?" you say mimicking Ms. Bonnet.
>"You stay away from me! You....You monster!" she shouts while trying to find an escape. But she cannot. She is trapped like a tiny animal.
>Ah there it is. Every mare's last words. It always comes so sweet from the lips of women and mares. It makes you shiver. And for it to come from someone such as her, it was pure bliss. Never have you thought in a thousand years you'd feel such ecstasy. The only thing that could increase this joy is if she begs.
"I suppose I could spare you. On a humble favor." you say, thumbing the blade held tightly in your hand.
>Penelope's old and watery eyes look up at you in desperate curiosity.
"Your maid, Ms. Bonnet. Where does she live?"
>The mare shudders. Her eyes become hateful, burning with Vulcan's forge. She grinds her teeth with ten pounds of pressure, wanting to gnaw you to the bone.

"Her life for yours. How about it? I think it's a fair deal. After all, she's just a peasant girl. A maid born to wait on you hand and foot. Well, hoof in your case."
>Penelope puts up a front, once again trying to intimidate you. So you move closer with your blade pointing straight at her.
"No?" you ask again.
>Only when you are half a foot away from her does she relent. Her fury is replaced by pure fear as she stares into your maddened eyes. She cowers under you, losing her battle with distress.
>He breath is ragged, hardly keeping pace at all. It sounds like a wounded animal, struggling to endure pain. Finally she speaks.
>"Very well... I will tell you. Just please, don't steal me from this world!"
>This time your own eyes explode open in excitement.
"Well?" you say impatiently. It comes out like a long spread of butter over toast.
>"She and her family take residence in lower Canterlot. On Sunset Avenue.... House 283..."
>Lady Penelope collapses in on herself. You watch as her eyes implode like a star and form an endless pit of despair. You wonder what that feels like.
"Thank you." you say kindly.
>Then your blade finds itself ramming through her fur and shattering her skin as you drive it deeper and deeper. Penelope cries out in great high pitched wails that mimic howling phantoms. Her pupils shrink to the size of atoms and her mouth hangs open in a perpetual scream of terror and pain.
>She grabs you, not knowing what to do with her body now that it has been taken from her. Though she was nearly gone, she looked into your eyes.
>Your dark swirling eyes were often the last thing your mares ever saw. And they were driven mad by it. In their deaths they would roam the underworld, insane and dumb. For they beheld a beast more frightening than any legend or fable.
>Her grip begins to weaken around you as you push deeper and deeper. Blood is now spilling from her wound and elegantly pooling around the hilt. Her blood caresses your hand gently, giving you its warmth.

>Then her body falls to the floor with a crashing sound, pulling itself off your dagger. Blood now messied her night gown. Staining it a bright crimson that darkened at the touch of air.
>You back away and gaze at Penelope's corpse. So beautiful and still. Tranquil to the point of never moving again.
>You exhale deeply, loving the feeling of your own breath. It felt very nice to breath.
>Continuing your pleasant breathing you bend down and lift Penelope's night gown to place your eyes on her flank.
"A weighing scale. How fitting. I wish I could see the world you and your friends were hoping to build."
>You stand, wiping the blood from your blade when you hear the door behind you open a bit wider. You glance over your shoulder to see a young stallion.
"I had forgotten about him.." you say under your breath.
>You turn to him so that you may get a good look at him. Telemachus. He was young. About fifteen? A hushed tone of brown that melded with his almond mane. His eyes are bright with rage, like a maddened bull he hones in on you. The man standing over his deceased mother.
>You sigh in annoyance. Killing males wasn't your favorite activity. But he saw your face, so he must be eliminated.
"What is it boy? Never seen a member of the working class before?"
>The youngling says nothing. Just then you notice the spear he held in his magical grasp. A unicorn. That was odd, considering his mother was a pegasus.
>Without a word he charges you, two red giants burning in his saucer-like eyeballs. He howls like a locomotive as he sprints towards you. But from the beginning he stood no chance. Not against you anyhow. In the end you suppose it's his fault. He shouldn't have saw you. He shouldn't have wandered in here.

>You dodge under the spear and close in on him with unnatural speed. Before the colt can register anything your grabbers are already wrapped around his neck. Using his momentum you pivot on your foot, turning and hurling him out of the window behind you.
>It's unclear where this unnatural strength comes from. Or why it manifests within you. But you know how to use it to your advantage.
>The colt crashes through the window, cursing you as he plummets to the hard ground below. You look out on the windowsill, witnessing his mangled body. He could still be alive. You sigh again.
"This isn't going very well. Monsters are supposed to be efficient. That horse may give me Hell for this..."
>You casually step over Penelope's body and rush into the hall. Finding the stairs, you seem to glide down them with ease, finding yourself at the front door.
>When you open the door, the cool air hits you like a heavyweight boxer. It takes a few moments for you to shake old man winter off before stepping outside.
>Making round the manor grounds you come up on Telemachus' body. Yes he's still alive. Which only made more trouble for you. There was no joy in killing stallions, but you do it out of duty.
>He doesn't get the chance to curse you one final time as your heel violently crushes his wind pipe. You grind your boot into his throat for good measure before turning on it and making to leave.
"This all could have gone better. I should have locked the door. Her husband will be heartbroken. Not only his wife but his son as well...."
>You shake your head as you exit out the gate, not looking back. You expect to be hounded for this blunder when you get back.