-- soldier. (lore, TW for non-descrypt d*ath)

it was raining. drip, drip, drip. how long had it been raining? she couldn’t tell. how long had she been here? where was she? a million questions she couldn’t be bothered to think of, nevertheless ones she could remember. something was wrong, then nothing. nothing was wrong. she was a good soldier. partaking in their glorious new Empire’s change of government. His prized asset. . .whatever her name was. none of that mattered anymore. a good soldier. a good girl. nothing of this doing was her own. she was nothing, and only made into something by His glorious and clever, all-knowing divinity. he was a God, and she was the lucky of his chosen few, the lucky ones filled with glorious, divine purpose. thankful. helpful. everything he needed and more -- anything to please him. right? that’s what the whispering told her. the whispering were right -- everything beforehand, before her rescued sanction, was nothing. she couldn’t remember who her family was, but He had told them they left her in the wastes. the voices told her. they were the only thing she could hear through the static of her head. a tiny voice, drifting in throughout the days which blurred into weeks and so forth, telling her to run. this wasn’t her. but wasn’t it? . . . — — — the King originally left her alone, unaware of the child’s presence within her kingdom. aphrodite had shushed, urged her youngest sister to stay inside. “it’s too cold outside,” she’d said. “your scales will freeze up.”a blatant lie to tell to the young child, who couldn’t have been past the age of fifteen, growth spurt accelerating the dragon’s height, right past her older sister’s. a looming threat to anypony who hadn’t known her, but yet somepony with no spine, too straightened by her own posture. he had eventually come for them, as they’d all known. it had only been a matter of time. of course he’d seen her right away. she was giant, height just past her own mother’s, scales glistening against the harsh winter sun. it had been too quick. there were firsts for everypony. talking back, fighting back, all firsts she’d never get to use again. fighting, fang, horn claws, hooves. nothing had worked, she had been fifteen, unable to use her own abilities to her advantage. she’d been too unstable, a loose cannon her mother hadn’t bothered to teach. why would she? asteria needed to be a doll, not useful. he’d taken her heart, her head, her spirit as his own in the blink of his own magic. her family hadn’t said goodbye. nothing from her mother, yet aphrodite had called, pleaded, cried for her sister. she could remember her face, even in the haze. asteria had not cried. she was a big kid now, a whole fifteen years old. a cutie mark earned too late, a week prior. a “late bloomer”, full of spirit. spirit could be broken in enough time, he’d purred. he would make sure of it. — — — . . . glorious, glorious purpose. growl at dissenters, protect Him with her life. that was her job. that was all she’d been recruited for. what a divine, holy, useful purpose. that had always been her desire, she could remember that much. to be appreciated, to be useful. her King had let her fulfill that purpose through his pet, his tool, his soldier. his good, good soldier. he said her sister was a nuisance in passing to her, almost as if he hadn’t cared. a sister she didn’t remember anymore, somepony who had been nothing but a haze in the crowds of his new subjects, a target she had to watch. the woman next to her, somepony who looked too perfect, almost fake, had apparently been her mother. she didn’t know who they were, nor had she cared. all the drone knew was Him, and that was all she needed. that’s what He’d said. they’d been rowdy again. however long had passed, the soldier hadn’t known. she hadn’t cared. all she needed was her purpose, her acceptance, and she would be fine. memories went as fast as they came, not a luxury he had blessed her with. she hadn’t earned it yet. the ponies were gathered during the rain again. her current memory, the rain she’d never been bothered with. not important. nothing had been important. a good soldier she’d been, marching forward once she’d been called. shapes were moving quickly, too quickly. she didn’t care. He told her to put her hoof there, and to apply pressure. don’t stop until she was told to. be a good soldier. the nuisance, the bother, her sister front and center. watching. an example for her. to watch her baby sister. it was warm, round, moving. living. none of that had mattered. she kept putting her hoof down and down and down, never relenting. strong, she was, with her other half’s, her foreign part of herself, the side of her that stuck out, that got her into this glorious position in the first place. POP! screaming. something wet -- she couldn’t tell what. she couldn’t comprehend it, nor could she care about what had just happened. it was done, and she’d served her purpose once again. the thing in front of her had been taken care of, the liquid on her hooves slowly wiped on the crystalline pavement. mindless. always mindless, the perfect soldier for Him to use as he pleased. it didn’t matter that he’d had a fifteen year old step down on that head until it popped. it didn’t matter if she remembered or not. he had done what he needed, and soon would have no more usage for her. he had set his example, and everything would fall into place after his demonstration of his brutality. celestia and luna were on their way, anyway. heroes to save the day. the little soldier doll had already sealed the fate He had wanted the ponies to have; pain. the little soldier doll, a killer.