The Fall, Part 3 (Chaotic Evil)

>Something wasn't quite right.
>You shifted on your throne of air, your beak curving downward in a frown.
>You could hear Twilight upstairs, rapidly dictating a letter to her Princess, which her little familiar would send along.
>You'd already taken the liberty of setting up a nexus of intercepting spells.
>The letter would be stopped, re-written in an approximation of the Princess's handwriting, which you'd so easily gleaned from the well-organized cabinet of letters Twilight kept in her desk, and then returned.
>The talons of your feet lift and clack on solidified air as you ponder.
>All nine of your senses went on high alert, and you scanned each of the visible and non-visible planes for your assailant.
>You sensed his aether approaching, a roiling, serpentine, chaotic mass. He was strong.
>Possibly even stronger than you.
>You stand up as he manifests.
>Scars below, but he IS flashy about it.
>Bright light, loud sound, a mismatched chaotic patchwork body...
>A Spirit of Chaos. A Protean demigod.
>Shit.
>He enters the domain. Pushes past the safe haven of Twilight's library as if it didn't exist.
>He stood before you, and you before him. You viewed each other on all planes, with all senses. He saw you as the Lord of Darkened Skies, birdlike and terrifying. The Serpent in the primal garden. The Lord of Flies, buzzing and crawling in the vague shape of a man...he saw you Fall.
>You see him as the patchwork thing he presents himself as. The Fourfold thing of Chaos. The formless avatar of Chance and Happenstance. The essence of what Will Be and what Must Not.
>Oh yes. He was greater than you.
>The thing smiles and stretches across from you.
>"Ooooooooh...Malevolent trickster demon, huh? Y'know, I used to operate like you, once. 'Course, I was more...'friendly neighborhood nuisance' than corruption fetish. Spirits today..."
>You frown at him.
"What do you want?"
>"Peace on earth, fun, laughter, and you gone."

>You shifted uneasily on your makeshift throne. You heard Twilight busying herself upstairs in a panic, and then...silence.
>Absolute silence.
>You saw a fly on the wall across from you freeze in mid-flight.
>The thing before you had stopped time.
>"I thought it'd be better if we conversed in private. Seems only polite, yes?"
>He's in a throne of his own. A high-backed plush chair, where he sits and drinks tea daintily with one claw of his lion paw held up regally.
"Of course. Polite."
>You examine him as he sips, worried. You could not risk a true war with this being.
>Already, you feinted with each other, mental and magical probes slipping and stabbing forth like daggers between you.
>You were losing. It was like trying to fence with the wind, or murder a stone.
>Your taloned feet shift on the cloudlike material of your throne as he finishes his tea.
>"Why are you here?"
"I was...summoned. By our mutual friend, Twilight Sparkle. She had a need, and I fulfil-"
>"Ah ah ah! Rude! Lying to a guest like that! Do that too many times and I might take umbrage!"
>You shut your beak, thoughts racing.
>You didn't want to bring this to a confrontation. Beings like the one before you were mercurial. Chaotic. Ever-changing. Easy to offend, but even easier to befriend.
>Your mouth stretched in a smile as you held a claw out.
"I'm simply here to have a little fun. Surely you understand that, Sir...?"
>"Discord. Not a sir! Just...Discord. Though I -am- thinking of adding a few titles to that name. Like Father of-wait, no, getting off track. Fun! I'm the fun-loving sort, y'know. Had a few hilarious capers with these ponies myself. Tartarus, maybe you and I could do a little buddy-buddy, huh? Shake the place up a bit?"
>You smile to yourself. Gotcha.
"Of c-"
>"Oh, wait, no, we can't. Terribly sorry, where are my manners!? I'm so forgetful lately...y'see, there's the small matter of a mare named Fluttershy."

>You are instantly aware that you have made a grievous error.
>Discord's still there, smiling at you placidly from his floating, cushioned seat.
>But the atmosphere is different. Charged.
>Your life, your existance, is hanging by a thread.
>And a Mad God is holding the scissors.
>You are silent for a moment before opening your mouth with a cautious smile.
"...I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding..."
>"See, that's the funny thing-and it IS funny, believe it or not-I don't think we can."
>He smiles, a grin that stretches wider than the head containing it.
>"Because, well, my boy, you're, as the kids say, 'musclin' in on my turf'. Pissin' on my tree. And I don't take kindly to that kinda actin' 'round these parts, no siree."
>Where did he get that rediculous ha-
>Your thoughts are interrupted as the Stetson-wearing draconequus lifts an insanely sized pistol and fires it at your head.
>The first thing that goes through your head is that he can't possibly think a bullet can harm you.
>The second thing that goes through your head is the bullet.
>Your head seems to partially detonate as you slam through Twilight's window, tumbling through the air to drive a deep furrow into the earth.
>Your remaining eye gets a glorious view of dirt and stone flying into the air and freezing there as Discord's time-lock effects it.
>Then the draconequus floats through, spinning the pistol around his eagle talon and whistling.
>You struggle to your feet, and he casually shoots one of your birdlike talons off.
>You feel each shot as a blow against your essence, your spirit, even as your flesh regenerates.
>Your wings spread and you take off in a panicked flight, the laughter of that Mad Thing following you into the frozen sky.

>You were going to die. There were no two ways about it.
>You were hopelessly, hopelessly outclassed.
>And you were no lightweight. Twilight Sparkle and other practitioners of her 'Art' thought themselves powerful, yes.
>Their 'magic' was akin to keys that unlocked the secrets of Creation itself.
>But you had helped construct the locks.
>But the thing beneath you...it was outside the rules, the strictures, the laws of reality itself.
>It was the chaff, the afterbirth of Creation. It was what was left when Potential was made into Reality.
>In short, one of the most dangerous things ever was currently driving a DeLorean through the air in an attempt to run you over.
>"Hey! Heeeey!"
>You don't dignify his cries with a response as you desperately try to maneuver away from the flying car.
>"Why did the dead baby cross the road?"
>You twisted in the air, your wings beating independently as you pluck a feather free and change it into a flaming sword.
>Then you cut his car in half.
>To your irritation, the car explodes into sticky, pink clouds that wrap you up and choke you.
>Discord, none the worse for wear, rises above you on a cloud, eating a bundle of it like it was candy.
>"It's *munch* because *munch* he was stapled to the chicken!"
>You were going to die here.
>You were one of the Fallen. You helped write the rules that governed creation.
>The creature in front of you could give less of a shit about that fact.
>What were laws and rules to something like him? He was beyond rules. Beyond good and evil. He simply Was.
>"Get it?"
>You're shaken out of your reverie by a baseball bat to the head.

>Your essence ripples and shudders as the bat slams into you with the force of a thunderbolt.
>Your neck spins all the way around with a sickening crack as you're hurled through the sky.
>Your abrupt flight ends when you slam into a tree.
>"HOME RUN!"
>You are going to die.
>But you aren't going to die lying in the dirt while a jumped-up jester with reality bending powers laughs at you.
>At the very least, you're going to die standing.
>You roll over, ignoring the splitting agony in your head as your physical body regenerates.
>Discord, meanwhile, is humming a theme and practicing his swing, a baseball cap adorning his head.
>"Swing batta batta, batta batta swing..."
>You struggle to your feet, still holding your sword.
>You look up at the Chaos Spirit, and you speak a word.
>The leaves on the trees around you wither and die.
>Birds, caught in Discord's gleeful abandoning of the laws of time, twitch, dead in flight, frozen in time.
>The Spirit himself recoils and drops his bat.
>The Word becomes a sentence.
>Discord lets out a high-pitched screech, like nails on a chalkboard.
>You take the opportunity to hit him with a thrown tree.
>The coiling serpent creature goes spinning through the air as you leap up after him.
>His mismatched limbs are clamped over his ears, his mind still reeling from your Enunciation.
>You bring your sword down like a hammer, and laugh as it slams into his head with a satisfying crunch.
>Discord drops from the sky, no longer laughing.
>You take a moment to savor your victory as you watch the draconequus twist and spin before rising up to meet you again, good humor gone.
>He comes at you with eagle talon and lion's paw, and that evening in Ponyville, there was a War in Heaven.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnIdAAHLjF8
>How does one describe a battle between spirits?
>You warred with this thing on every level imagineable.
>You fought him in the physical, with flaming sword and plague.You fought him spiritually, your harvested Faith against his pure, maddened Will.
>You fought each other, Chaos against determined Evil.
>He was chance and happenstance given will, and all of that will was focused on erasing you from existence.
>You had no chance of killing him.
>What was death to a creature that commanded all possibilities, all realities, all dimensions?
>You thought of running and hiding, but how would that serve you?
>He would find you. He would chase the Change you left in your wake. Your very movements would draw him like a beacon.
>You would have to hide where nothing could find you. Hide in the elements like a Nephalim. Become one with the ear-
>Your beak curves in a smile as you rise in the air, Discord curling around you like a serpent.
>Your wings spread as he casually starts picking your essence apart, yellow light flashing around his claws as he turns portions of your chest into air, or transforming your organs into water.
>The flaming sword in your grip flashes out, searing the flesh of his face and carving at his own essence as he curls around you.
>Thunder and lightning crashed down from heaven onto his serpentine body, dancing across fur and scales.
>He only laughed all the harder as he curled around you and began to squeeze.
>It was your turn to laugh.
>Your beak spreads open, even as his coils crush you.
"Cursed be the ground, for your sake. Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth, for you."
>You feel his anger flare as you stubbornly cling to life.
"For out of the ground you were taken, for the dust you are... and to the dust you shall return."
>His laughter and anger both die in his throat, his body turning gray with a harsh cracking sound.
>And you slip free from his coils as, still laughing, you Fall.

>It's a long way down.
>Not as long as the first time, no. Not nearly as long as that.
>You remember that fall with clarity.
>You remember your own rage, your betrayal, your hurt, as you were cast out.
>Cast aside in favor of weak, imperfect, impulsive animals.
>You smile wryly as you remember it.
>If only He could see you now...
>You turn your head to the side weakly as you see the coiled statue of your enemy tumble out of the sky, his hold over time loosed.
>You're bleeding essence.
>Your form flickers and wavers as power and life bleed from you in unending streams.
>You couldn't die.
>Not yet.
>You had more work to do here.
>You had-
>Consciousness leaves you briefly.
>You awaken beneath a canopy of trees.
>The hissing and roaring of various beasts of the earth and birds of the sky is clear to your senses.
>You know where you are. Fluttershy's.
>The yellow one Discord came to protect.
>Your hearing catches the sound of his stone body breaking into pieces farther into the Everfree.
>The thought offers you small comfort.
>You won.
>You are dying, but you won.
>You needed...needed...
"Fluttershy."
>You croak her name, the wind carrying your plea to her cottage.
>She would come for you.
>Without Discord to shield her, she was yours to command.
>She had what you needed.
>She had the belief. The hope. The faith.
>You smile, and your eyes close.

>You open your eyes again as you hear a quiet squeak.
>You're in...a cottage. Wooden walls. A fireplace.
>And a butter-yellow pegasus.
>You open your mouth and try to speak, but all that comes out is a weak croak.
>"Shhhhhh...you're hurt..."
>She pats your face with a hoof, and you grimace.
>"All the other critters left me, but you...I can help you...please don't run...please don't leave...."
>She looked...terrible. Ragged. Broken.
>Little scratches showed up on her hooves, and her mane was a mess of tangles and branches.
>And on her forehead, invisible to all but you and Discord, the mark of the accursed burned brightly.
>"Ooooh...what happened to you...you're all bruised and cut and oh my goodness I have to get you to a hosp-"
"Fluttershy."
>She freezes at the sound of your voice.
>Terrified shivers work their way through her legs.
>At some level, deep in that pink-maned head, she knows what you are. You're wrong. Some odd, unnameable kind of wrong.
>But she can't run. She can't ignore you.
>She can't disobey you.
"Fluttershy, come here."
>She whimpers once, and then obeys.
>How can she not? She is broken.
>The one thing she had put all her faith in, all her trust and love and devotion, had abandoned her.
>You reach out and stroke her mane gently.
"...I know it hurts, Fluttershy. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, won't I? I won't abandon you or hurt you like those little animals."
>She nods, numbly.
"I'll be the only friend you need. For the rest of your life."
>She whimpered a bit before hugging your side.
"You can put your trust...your faith...in me."
>The hug tightened, and you felt warmth rising in your chest. She believed you. More, she believed -in- you.
“Those others...your old friends...they weren't here for you...haven't been here for you. I won't leave you, Fluttershy. Not like they did.”
>You put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look at you.
>She smiled at you, dully.
>"..Thank you...Pazuzu. My very...best...friend."

Meanwhile, at Sweet Apple Acres.
>Something was wrong.
>Applejack could feel it in the earth. In the air.
>Even the way the apples hung from the trees was subtly...-wrong-.
>But she couldn't put her hoof on it.
>...No, that wasn't quite true.
>It was that freaky creature of Twilight's.
>She was sure, 100% sure that it was behind the -wrongness-.
>And as the most honest of mares and dependable of ponies, she wasn't gonna let this stand.
>It was about time somepony got Twi's head out of those silly books, anyway.
>"T'ain't natural, callin' things up like that...Twi should -know- better."
>Applejack mumbled to herself as she paced back and forth, Stetson jammed firmly on her head.
>On the one hoof, she wanted to go stomp that monster into the dirt and ask questions about it later.
>On the other, she wanted to kick Twilight's keister for being this stupid.
>And on the third hoof...
>Applejack paused.
>She sighed and pulled her Stetson tighter, then groaned.
>She knew what she had to do.
>She didn't like it, but she had to do it.
>AJ started grumbling to herself as she set the last basket of apples out by the barn and started the long trot into town.
>She had to see a dragon about a letter.