The King and I

by alCROWholic

Rating: mature
Tags: Crystal Ponies, Sex, Human, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other, Drama, King Sombra
Length: 91372

Sombra gets a new consort as the drums of conflict echo from all sides.

Sombra searches for a consort.

It's just another normal, boring day, until a mysterious virus infects your computer, and strange things begin to happen around you. A look in the mirror finds a stranger staring back. You're soon dragged into a conflict with no clear direction, for the future of the Crystal Empire.

Published 2014-05-03 18:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-03-13 14:35:51 UTC

A Rose by Any Other Name

Another boring Friday night, you think to yourself.

The occasional chat request appears, you make small talk with all your e-pals; it’s a sour replacement for real interaction, not that you’re any good at it.

You sigh to yourself, more excuses. It’s not like you have any social anxieties, you’re just lazy, really lazy. The most basic of tasks take a backseat beneath waves of my little pony fan fiction and artwork. You are the very definition of a procrastinator; a life without worries is the thing for you.

If only, you have gross things like bills and responsibilities, burdening you with work and interaction with over living beings.

You may be exaggerating a little.

Whatever the case, you have little to do for the weekend. While others will be out living it up or making friends, you’re perfectly content to whittle away the hours with tales of wonder, magic and adventure. The irony of shunning friendship while watching my little pony is not lost on you, yet these are cartoon characters. It’s not like they’re real. No work tomorrow.

It means another late night for you! You grin as you navigate towards your favorites menu and notice your favorite story was just updated.

“THE KING AND I” it reads, with an imposing cover image of Sombra standing victoriously over a defeated army, their twisted bodies lying battered and bloodied under his large hooves.

At first, you didn’t really like Sombra. He was a bit villain for a pair of episodes, just like all the others. However after reading this story he quickly became your favorite, even if the story took some liberties with the canon to do so. In fact, this is only one of many Sombra-centric stories you’ve found yourself enraptured with.

The story had nearly reaches its conclusion. It was well written and contained a very convincing romance between Sombra and an OC. As far as OC’s go, Blood Rose (as she was named) was a great character. It portrayed Sombra as less of a mindless beast and more of a ruthless dictator, who would do anything to get what he wants.

You swivel from left to right on your chair for a few moments, debating whether to go grab a late night snack or not. Your mind visualizes the left over BBQ chicken wings from yesterday, before you leap from your chair and jog towards your small fridge.

You push past the layers of leftovers and junk food to find the tinfoil wrapped plate, smiling like a serial killer as you pull them from the cold prison.

As you remove the foil and slap them into the microwave, you notice a strange pattern flowing across the computer monitor. The paragraphs from before have been replaced with an eye straining combination of black and white, the perpetually moving waves seemingly changing perspective many times over a few seconds.

The room dims around you as your eyes become hazy and unfocused, the only thing left visible are the oscillations being displayed from the other end of your small apartment. You stagger towards it, your legs being beset by intense pins and needles. Your tongue turns to lead in your mouth, rendering you in-capable of any coherent sound.

Your legs become increasing unstable; making the few short strides required a challenge in co-ordination. Despite your best attempts you can’t draw your eyes away from the screen; a sheet of pain hammers your teary eyes.

You slam both hands on the desk. Unfortunately, the close proximity to the screen gives you a full blast of the trippy pattern. A dull whine begins to build in your ears, rumbling your eardrums. The whine becomes progressively louder as more and more colours begin to be added to the swirling maelstrom engulfing your mind. The whining has increased in pitch, causing you to let out a silent scream. Then it stops.

You black out.

You groan as you slowly return to consciousness to find yourself sprawled on the floor. The beeping of the microwave breaks the eerie silence and alerting you to the status of the precious BBQ wings.

You feel like a drunkard as you hoist yourself up. Through blurry vision you notice that the monitor has thankfully returned to normal.

Man, that must have been some kind of freaky computer virus. You grimace as you hobble back to the microwave and pull out the now cold chicken wings, you must have been out for a while! You re-heat them again, ignoring the potential risk of food poisoning.

You rub your messy hair and practically collapse back into your office chair. You glance cautiously back at the screen to discover it has been returned to the web session you had open. Quickly scrolling over to the tray, you begin an anti-virus scan of your computer; wouldn’t want to get your head cracked open with something like that.

You decide to get back on task and read the new chapter, you glutton yourself with the chicken wings and set in for a long night.

You grip the edge of your seat as Sombra faced by the pretender in front of his black throne. Thousands of words of build-up have delivered you to this point, the tense confrontation with the antagonist, the heroic knight Silver Shield.

They glare at each other defiantly, muscles tensing; neither displaying any regrets or fears in front of their rival. The green smoke billowing from Sombra’s eyes only intensified, as his dark magic pooled up deep inside him, like a cannon ready to go off at any second.

Suddenly, the rumbling of the battle outside ceased; the two warriors beginning a savage charge towards the other, Shield deftly dodging the dark bolts of magic thrown his way by the dark king.

You groan as you read the final line, just as it was getting good! Sombra was about to stomp that prick into the ground! You feel compelled to write a comment, this was an awesome chapter.

"Great job man! I can’t wait for the next chapter. This is one of my favorite stories. You did an awesome job with Sombra, he’s my favorite pony now :P"

You submit your praise and sit back for a moment, raising an eyebrow as you receive a reply almost instantly.

"I’m very glad you like it. I’ve had a blast writing it, the final chapter shall come soon."

In a sense, the response seemed ominous. The feeling being somewhat diluted by it being a random fellow pony fan. However as you think back to the strange occurrence from earlier, a cold chill rockets down your spine.

You shut down the computer and collapse into bed.

Dark shapes swirl around you, caressing you; a girly moan escapes from your muzzle. Foreboding red eyes, stare down at you like a predator, you’re nothing more than a piece of meat, something to be used to satisfy your master. The lavish room that you find yourself in fails to draw your attention away from the large black stallion approaching the bed.

He grins, showing his sharp teeth. He climbs onto the bed, his weight causing it to bend inwards. Heavy hoof falls against the soft blanket herald his arrival. He leans against your sensitive ears, before speaking in a deep and rumbling voice.

“I’m enjoying your progress, Rose.”

There is nothing.

The sunlight beaming through your cheap, shitty blinds awakes you. You groan and rub your strained eyes, that weird virus had a pretty strong after-effect, the late night you spent in front of a glowing screen didn’t help.

You shiver as your half nude body meets the cold air of your uninsulated apartment. You grope your way to the jogging shorts at the foot of the bed (not that you actually do any jogging) and wrestle them onto your numb legs.

The harsh glare of the shitty bathroom light only furthers the now dull ache sourced from somewhere behind your eyes. You quickly splash your face with some frigid water, wiping yourself off on a frayed towel.

You stare into the mirror for several seconds, a sudden feeling of wrongness welling inside your stomach. At first you don’t notice anything different; you roll your eyes up and down, searching for something wrong.

You almost scream when your eyes meet themselves. You harshly grip your tongue between your teeth; face paling at your new eye colour.

A new crimson gaze stares back, bright red eyes that belong to a demon. They look terrifying! Your pale skin draws a massive contrast, and more importantly attention to them.

The virus must have done this! Some kind of prank to fuck up your eyes. That must be it! You growl and turn the tap on again, splashing it in your eyes in an attempt to remove the tint.

It doesn’t work. Meaning it must be an internal problem. You debate going to the doctor, only to remember that you’re broke. You can’t afford it! You comfort yourself by rationalizing that it can’t be anything too serious, it was only an optical illusion.

Which caused you to black out, and turned you into a demon.

You ignore the rational part of your mind, content to continue lazing about for the rest of the morning. You boot up the computer and head over to the small kitchen unit, several dirty dishes still lay haphazardly over the counter, but you don’t care. You open the fridge and begin to search for a good breakfast.

You pull out a plate of turkey from the sandwich you had yesterday. You tentatively sniff it to make sure it’s still okay, but nearly gag as a foul odour invades your poor nose. It smells like a dead racoon that had been left out in the sun for too long.

Definitely out of date, you muse, scraping it off the plate into a small bin. You try again, grabbing some bacon, but once again it reeks, you groan and throw it in with the turkey. You repeat this process several more times, leaving you to wonder if your fridge had broken overnight.

Luckily, you still have some non-leftover food. You grab a packaged chicken salad, peeling off the transparent plastic. You grab a fork and sit down on your worn sofa, eagerly throwing a piece of cold chicken into your mouth.

It tastes like a skunk just squirted into your mouth, you spit it back out onto the plate along with a healthy serving of saliva, coughing and gagging. You exclaim disgust in a less than graceful manner.

“That was fucking awful!” You cough out.

You rush back to the kitchen and rinse off your tongue in the sink. Sighing in relief as the taste is wiped from your poor buds. You grasp the packaging and search feverishly for the sell by date, raising an eyebrow as you notice that it’s a few years away yet.

You shake your head at the wasted food, putting it into the nearly full bin. You shuffle back to the computer as your stomach growls un-happily. You open up your previous session, navigating to your favourite websites.

You head over to the favourites list, to see that “The King and I” has been updated again with the finale! Despite your bad morning you can’t help but break out into a smile at the sight of it. It’s a fairly hefty chapter too, clocking in at fifteen thousand words.

You eagerly load up the chapter, excited for the explosive conclusion. As the page loads however, you notice the text is highly distorted, like somebody ran it through a zalgo generator. You squint as you struggle to make out the words, however the more you stare the more distorted they become.

You can’t help but scan the distorted paragraphs, mumbling the words to yourself. Despite this you fail to comprehend exactly what you’re reading. The entire process is lost on you, the words string out into long, made up sentences in an incoherent language.

It begins to seemingly melt from the page, sliding down it like ooze. An intense headache, not unlike the one from yesterday assaults your cranium. You wince and massage your temples, still wearily looking at the screen, fully expecting another virus to infect the monitor and eye rape you.

Yet it doesn’t come.

Just as quickly as the strange occurrence started, it ended. Rather abruptly as the story simply returned to its proper form. You lean back into your chair and moan as the headache intensifies.

You quickly stride over to the bathroom, fumbling in the cabinet for some Ibuprofen. You shakily grasp the box, nearly dropping them to the floor and wrench two of them into your mouth. Despite your bodies’ unwillingness, you manage to swallow them down before quenching your thirst from the tap.

A layer of sweat has built up on your body, making you feel dirty and pathetic. The medicine helps a little, but you can tell it won’t be that easy to get rid of. You squeeze your soaked shirt and short sweaty hair. Feeling repulsed that you managed to eject that much moisture from your body.

You decide now is a good time to shower. You peel the sweaty clothes from your body and throw them into a heap in the corner. Switching it on, you check the temperature before stepping inside. Your tense muscles relax, if only slightly, underneath the hot water.

You carefully scrub your now sore body, taking extra care with your hair. As the shower goes on you become slightly more confident and hurry up, failing to notice your latest change.

Only when you rinse your hair do you notice a crimson strand fall into the top of your sight. You stare for a second, before carefully tugging at it. You quickly deduce that the hair belongs to you, and you promptly freak out.

You leap out of the shower and dry yourself, the previous aches forgotten in the wake of panic. You stumble, naked as the day you were born into the bedroom where the full body mirror is.

You seethe through your teeth as you discover that you now have a red head of hair to match your eyes, the hair on your chest and legs having turned a bright white. Your body has turned leaner, with your wide shoulders now considerably slimmer, you seem to have lost a few inches in height, and your formerly gaunt face is more rounded and fat.

You clutch your new face, poking and prodding the new fatty sections; you almost look like a girl, if it weren’t for your chest and…

much smaller penis.

You were a fairly modest person, with a fairly average penis; but you can’t help but notice the sudden decrease in size. Where before it hung between your balls, now it is perches above them like a cocktail sausage. It’s like you’ve gone through reverse puberty!

You lightly touch it, almost as if it were to fall off with too much force. No matter how much you fondle it, you can’t seem to achieve an erection.

Red eyes, red hair AND erectile dysfunction? Today is going swell!

Your penile exploration is interrupted by a knock on the door; you snap out of your shame and grab a new set of clothes. You nearly answer the door before you remember your eyes! Shit! You frantically search around the room, grabbing a pair of mucky sun-glasses from one of the drawers.

Not exactly a convincing disguise, but it’ll do for now. You stick down your hair and open the door to see a bewildered delivery man.

“Hello.” You say, in a strangely high pitched tone.

“Uh, yes hello. I have a package here for the home owner.”

“That’d be me.” He hands you the package and clipboard, you sign your name and place the box onto the door side ledge. He stares at your vibrant crimson hair for a few seconds and you worry that he might call you out.

“Thanks.” You say.

“No problem, Miss.” He says before hurrying off to presumably complete more deliveries. You however, stand there in shock at his last comment.

“M-miss?” You squeak, slowly shutting the door with a click. A swelling sensation begins to build up in your chest, which you ignore. Right now you have a box to open.

It may be a bad idea to ignore such rapid body changes, but the denial screeching through your mind blocked off all the panic you felt before.

This couldn’t possibly be happening.

Even so, you knew deep down that it was. You were turning into a strange, red haired girl. There probably wasn’t anything you could do about it. Instead of crying however, you simply occupy your mind with something else.

Like this mystery box!

You have no idea of what it could be, you didn’t order anything. Knowing your luck it would probably belong to somebody else who lived on your floor. There are no markings or papers included, not even a return address.

You peel the masking tape from the top, partly excited for what could be inside, but fairly afraid for the same reason.
You look inside, to see a single thorned rose and a small piece of paper. You avoid touching the rose for now and unfold the paper.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice your new breasts, but you can’t bring yourself to panic or scream.

“To my biggest fan. See you soon. Xx”

Well… that was ominous.

You discard the creepy letter, and carefully hold the rose in the palm of your hands. The rose looks freshly picked, still sporting the thorns found in the wild. It’s probably the most vibrant rose you’ve seen, with deep red petals that almost matched your new hair.

As you look again however, you begin to notice something strange. Seemingly etched into the petals are tiny words, only a slight touch lighter than the red around them. You swear you’ve seen them somewhere before.

That’s when they begin to move.

You suck in a deep breath as everything falls out of focus. Just like before you begin to read the near invisible language from the surface of the petals. The room around fragments and shatters like a broken mirror.

Your shitty apartment falls away from your feet, an inky blackness replacing what was there before. You stand on a solitary square of floor, seemingly ripped from the ground and now floating in an endless space.

A deep baritone voice joints your chanting, it jabs the fringe of your memory and vaguely reminds you of a forgotten dream. The chanting continues to increase in volume, reaching a booming climax, the overpowering sound of the voice dwarfing your own.
It stops.

A slow ember floats from above, landing on you. It smoulders, and then begins to burn rapidly. The clothes on your body simply disintegrate away from you, floating, still burning, into the blackness. Initially you panic, checking your body for injury. However it doesn’t seem to have burned you.

Suddenly, a crippling pain bursts down your spine. You release a horrendous scream into the void, which echoes through the empty plain. You drop to your knees as an intense burning sensation spreads from the same point on your back, followed by the feeling of thousands of needles stabbing the affected area.

The rose you still clutch in your hand shines brightly, before melting into the surface of your skin like a tattoo. The strange language from before spreads across your body like a rash, stretching across your entire body as new sentences are written by the dark magic.

Your hands grow numb, weighed down with cement. The fingers lose their dexterity, merging together to form a hard nail. A hoof, you mind complacently responds. You clop them together and marvel at the new sensation of the sensitive frog embedded in the base.

Fur begins to crawl up your arms, yet it does little to distract you from the pain of your rapidly snapping spine, you’ve long since lost your ability to scream; your strangled cries receiving no mercy from the forces at work.

Unbeknownst to you, your spine rearranges itself to better fit your new form. Permanently removing your ability to walk upright, it also extends slightly using mass from your rapidly shortening legs.

Your toes are absorbed into your new back hooves, which are flailing against the ground as the nerves inside them are re-wired to control the new muscles.

Your red eyes grow larger along with your skull, your human lips being pushed out into a horrific looking muzzle. A sharp pain hits your forehead as a white bone bursts from your forehead, your new horn.

The fur has covered most of your midsection and your new limbs; it eagerly ate up the few patches of visible skin you had, beginning its work on your torso and neck. Your red hair grows longer every second, nearly touching the ground.

Coinciding with the hair growth, a new bony protrusion at the base of your spine begins to sprout the same shade of red hair almost like a party popper. It tickles the fur of your back legs, and covers your most private area.

Your formerly tiny penis and balls are quickly absorbed into your body as the fur overtakes it, a new pair of tight black pussy lips taking their place.

Tears roll down from your now much too large eyes, the fur has reaches your neck and is growing rapidly up to your ears. Soon they are taken too, causing them to melt into your head under the fur much like your penis.

Your head hammers in agony as internal rearrangement of the ears and nose take place, connecting them to your new pony ears and muzzle. You desperately paw at the ground, unable to move, you twitch in agony as new sensations begin to overload your weak mind.

The breasts you grew quickly slide down your furry torso, just above the new mare pussy. Light pink nipples emerge from the new small hairless area.

The glowing red words that littered your body begin to phase out, floating away into the darkness. However the rose emerges on your new, large flanks. It feels like you are being burned with a brand, and you don’t notice the new thorned rose appearing on both of your sides.

“Hello, my little rose.”

There is nothing.

You awake with a gasp, sweat pouring down your body and matting down your new white fur. Of course, you scream; in a new, much more feminine voice. This is turn causes you to scream further.

You vocal chords soon run ragged and you find yourself unable to speak. The bed you find yourself in is much larger than your own, easily large enough to hold several people. Your new size makes it even bigger.

It dominates the centre of the room, crimson sheets contrasting the dark, yet gleaming crystal walls. Several pieces of furniture cover the room, table and chairs, a dresser and drawers and even a large carpet that covered the lowest tier.

You sweep your head frantically, your stomach disagreeing with the sudden motion combined with your new head. You look at your new body, before bursting into hysteric sobbing.

You try hopelessly to stop the tears rolling down your muzzle, rubbing a fetlock against your eyes. You’re a pony, a female pony.

With red hair, and beautiful white fur and sexy flanks…

Woah! Where did that come from! Your sobs soon stop. You slowly poke and prod your new body. Several new sensations afflicting you, like the flicking of your new pony ears, the large and clumsy tongue, or the numbed, yet slightly ticklish, sensation of hoof on fur.

You shake the cobwebs from your head and drag yourself to the edge of the bed, hopping down onto the hard floor with a loud clop. You have no problem standing, and as soon as you start walking you can tell that something is off.

It’s oddly natural. Then again, why would they go to the effort of turning you into this without giving you the knowledge on how to walk? You trot to the door and peek outside, looking from left to right. However the only sight that greets you are long crystal hallways.

You open the large door and trot down to the left, several other large doors passing you on the way. It splits off at the end, heading to a large lobby area and another large door, reinforced with heavy metal bars.

The lobby is impressive, dark banners hang from the ceiling and crimson carpets line the paths. The stairs cascade and bend towards the bottom floor. You could go straight ahead, but the lobby looks like your best bet of meeting somebody.

You scamper down the stairs, and into the centre of the room. There are no signs of life anywhere.

“Hello Madame.” A dull voice says from behind you, causing you to let out a scratchy yell and you swing to face the new pony. She looks strange, with a dim coat and baggy eyes. She has a dark blue coat and white mane; she even has a little red bow tie.

“H-hello.” You stammer in response. The mare smiles at you before trotting in a circle, inspecting you.

“Wow! His majesty did a good job with you!”

“His majesty?” You ask as she turns to face you.

“The king silly! King Sombra!” She scolds with fake enthusiasm.

No way, she has to be joking. Her dull tone of voice made it hard to believe what she was saying; she was more robot than mare.

“Where are we?”

“The Crystal Empire of course! Don’t worry, I’m sure his majesty will answer all of your questions soon enough.” She turns on her hooves and heads down the corridor beneath the stairs, forcing you to stumble after her.

“His majesty is going to be so pleased with your progress. All that magic and studying, but it worked!” She continue to rattle off as you travel down more identical corridors, before stopping in front of a pair of large, black doors that towered over the rest.

“Go ahead, he’s waiting.” She states.

Author's Note

I wrote this all the way back in January but never posted it. May as well it get it out there.

I know it's stupid to have three unfinished stories on the go, but I'm an impulsive writer. Don't expect this story to be updated frequently. (Maybe.)

Cold Welcome

You stand there unmoving. Unsure of whether to proceed or turn tail and run as far away as possible before something horrible happens. She’s still staring at you, with cold unblinking eyes. There is no life behind them, the sparkle of joy and wonder seemingly drained away to leave a lethargic, dull shell.

It’s creeping you out.

You haven’t seen another soul during your short stay. Only you and your escort inhabit the empty hallway. Where are all the guards? Why isn’t there anybody outside of the throne room? The King must have some way of keeping you here, if so, running might not be such an easy task.

You break away from the sparkling pony’s cold gaze to face the onyx doors. They stand in contrast to the rest of the castle, with intricate and noisy designs engraved deep into the surface. They depict various things, seemingly in chronological order.

On the upper left there is a seemingly normal stallion with a rather large build. He’s wearing a familiar cape, but his signature curved horn is oddly absent, being replaced with a normal swirled one instead.

On his right lays a crown, his crown, the one that he wears with pride upon his face in the next frame, a jagged throne underneath him and ponies bowing to him left and right. From there it only grows stranger.

On the next row down his appearance has changed, he’s become bulkier than before, his horn beginning to form into the infamous blade it would eventually become. A wicked smile of jagged teeth adorns his face, like a shark ready to gobble up his prey. Beneath him lays a battered knight who he easily dwarfs in size.

His armor was battered and broken, with dents running down the length of his body. His eyes were closed; you don’t know if he is unconscious or already dead. It’s fairly evident some kind of battle had taken place, and the knight had lost spectacularly.

Another engraving of Sombra on his throne followed, larger than the others. He had the full get-up on, crown, fangs, smoke, cape and creepy grin. The ponies were bowing to him again, although there were far fewer than before. Some were held down with heavy chains, bolted to the ground with large metal rings.

You’re not feeling optimistic about your chances, but you’ve delayed the inevitable for long enough, time to face the man himself. A lump swells in your throat as you slowly push open the huge wooden doors; they’re very heavy, forcing you to put a lot of weight onto them. With a mighty heave the doors swing open, revealing the throne room.

At the end of a long crimson carpet, a jagged black throne cuts through the ground, on it, sits King Sombra. He smiles as you walk down the room towards him.

The ceiling towers above you, stretching off into the distance, the hard edges of the varying crystal convening at its highest point. Crimson banners hang from every wall, covering the vibrant crystal with a sea of dark red.

Huge windows line the sides of the room, with complex stained glass patterns designed to show off the beauty of the crystal castle. You can’t help but shiver as you notice the metal rings that claw into the ground at each side, the ghostly faces of enslaved ponies looking back.

You can only imagine how much has happened here, scorch marks and fractured walls still scar the room, potentially from a recent battle or rebellion.

You shake your head and clear you mind, this is no time to get nervous. Out here, below such a powerful pony you feel vulnerable and exposed. You swallow and narrow your eyes, that’s what he wants. To be in that position of power, so he can push you around. He’s all about control, and you won’t give him it so easily.

Your legs stiffen, unwilling to get any closer. You drag on, ignoring your natural response’s desperate attempts to make you run away like a little girl. You come to the steps and stand there defiantly. He continues to smirk and stare, waiting for the right moment to begin his speech.

His horn is far sharper than you expected. Smooth and wicked, it glints slightly in the light that fills the hall, the tip being the same red as his cape.

He’s much more intimidating in the flesh than you imagined. His towering height is only matched by his presence, which upon eye contact sends violent shivers down your spine. He is wide set and bulky, a stark comparison to your new frail female body. Whereas your chest is lithe and dainty, his is muscular and built.

It’s fairly obvious he didn’t want you having an upper hand physically; even the escort who brought you here had more meat on her bones.

His eyes don’t emit green smoke like you thought they would, instead are two red orbs that pierce your defenses and drag out your weaknesses.

His wild black mane is barely held from his face by a jagged silver crown. A matching silver breastplate covers a considerable portion of his torso, along with four metal plates that cover his hooves. A blood red cape is draped around his back, covering his tail.
His shark like teeth grin with glee. He’s done this before, intimidating his subjects, bending them to his goals and whims.

Everything from the moment you woke up has been carefully constructed, the empty corridors, the ghostly guide and even the long walk to his throne; all in a bid to give you subtle hints towards his influence and power.

You don’t need any hints; you know full well what this mad pony can do.

He gets up, slowly, before trotting down the steps with powerful hoof falls that ring out and echo through the empty room. You freeze, afraid to move under his scrutiny. He stops in front of you, his gaze somehow growing far more intense than before; you wilt slightly, casting your eyes down left to the floor.

He chuckles, a deep baritone laugh that rumbles through your being. His armored hooves trot around out of your vision, before emerging from the right, circling you like a vulture. A bit too close for comfort in your opinion.

He makes two more passes before stopping. A plated hoof is placed firmly underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. He stares unblinking for a moment, before turning and heading back towards his throne.

He sits there in silence for a few moments, his head casually resting on a hoof. He begins to laugh again. A quiet chuckle at first, but it soon escalates into full blown evil guffaws. You stand there dumbfounded at the uncharacteristic chortles of the dark ruler.

Is he laughing at you? What’s so funny?

“Hey!” You protest. Suddenly his head snaps to meet yours. You jump slightly at the rapid movement.

“Oh, of course.” He mumbles. He coughs into his hoof and clears his throat. “How uncouth of me.” His voice is smooth like marble, but with a deep rumble to it, the voice of somebody who commands the obedience of others. He gestures to the empty space behind you. “Welcome to my little empire, Rose. I’m so very sorry about the cold welcome. But I just can’t stand my staff gawking over a new guest, so I sent them all back to their quarters.”

All of them? Why on Earth would he do that? Before you can vocalize your question he cuts you off. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions to ask me… which will be answered in due time.”

“Why can’t you answer any of them now? Why did you bring me here?” You shout, outraged at his tight lipped approach to your abduction. He scowls, his lips thinning and his legs tensing.

“Do not speak to your King like that.” He warns gravely. “I think you’ll find that I’m very compassionate to those loyal to me and those who aren’t…”

You struggle and gasp in vein as his magic grip crushes your ribcage. A black collar floats from behind, clipping itself around your neck. The magic is released and your hooves fly to it in an attempt to pry the tight leather from your neck.

“Will be dealt with.” He finishes.

“I’m not your pet.” You mutter. There’s no kind of clasp on this collar, you can’t get it off. It’s quite tight, slightly constricting your airway, probably intentionally to make sure you’re always aware of it.

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” He growls. “I spent a lot of time and energy to bring you here, you owe me.” He sighs as you give him a death glare. “Any of my other subjects would give their lives to receive such attention from their beloved King.”

You collapse onto your backside; the cold floor doesn’t bother you quite as much as the reality of the situation hits you. King Sombra, in the flesh, has kidnapped you and turned you into his plaything. A small ember of hope remain however, if he brought you here, there has to be a way back.

“Besides, I thought you’d like it here. You enjoyed the story so very much; why not enjoy it in reality as well?”

You voice rises again. “Why me? There were hundreds of other people you could have picked! Why did you even need to whisk somebody from an entirely different world here?”

“Because I can.” He answers with a growl not apart from a lion’s. “You are here, you will stay here, you will sit and enjoy it like the obedient little mare that you are, and if you ever manage to impress me, I might give you the privilege of polishing my hooves.”

The intense hatred in his eyes shrivels your hope down to a wilted flower. “I know everything, I see everything that happens in this castle, do not try to escape or you will be thrown in the pile with the rest of the traitors…” With that he halts. “You may return to your room.”

“B-but…” You stammer as you step forwards.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” A black aura surrounds his horn, and with a blinding flash you find yourself back in the same windowless room. You blink and swing around to find the door closed behind you.

The sound of rattling armor and clopping hooves indicate some kind of presence, maybe Sombra has decided to put guards on the door now that his little show and dance is over. You trot over and place an ear against the thick wood, but whoever is outside remains silent.

You sigh and slide down onto the floor. It’s cold, just like the floor in the throne room. It causes your new fur to stand on end; you shiver and quickly hop back up. You look around until your eyes fall upon the bed. You jump underneath the sheets and cover your head, the stress of the day building up inside you.

You stretch and grab one of the large pillows, holding it against your muzzle and letting out a feral scream of anger, swiftly followed by a rain of blows. You can’t help but imagine Sombra’s stupid smug face as you pummel it, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction from seeing him bleed. You hate him. That bastard! Who the hell does he think he is? He pulled you here for no good reason, and then has the nerve to act causal about it!

“Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you!” You scream, letting loose a final two hoofed smash. Your chest heaves as you take in big gulps of cold air, your forearms ache as your violent outburst catches up with you.

It’s still quiet.

The only thing you can hear is the rapid beating of your heart. Something is here, an unnatural silence that worms its way into your head, unnerving you. You drop the pillow and crawl back under the sheets, curling yourself into the smallest ball possible. You sink into the soft mattress, but as much as you hope, you can't vanish.

He’s watching, you know he is. Let him, he’s not going to break you so easily.

Author's Note

Short chapter this time.

Queen Me

It was difficult but you eventually managed to calm your nerves and drift away into a paranoid slumber. The slightest noise would cause adrenaline to rush through your body, waking you. Little things like the clop of hooves from outside or the skittering of a nearby vermin. Maybe it was intentional; sleep deprivation doesn’t seem to be beyond Sombra.

You’re tired. You managed to get only a few hours of shut eye, your nerves preventing you from sleeping for any substantial period of time. You slap your lips together, scowling at the taste of morning breath, which was only worsened by your new equine body.

Do ponies use toothbrushes? Only one way to find out.

You crawl out of the warm bed and into the frigid air and head over to a smaller wooden door. You push it open to find a paltry on suite bathroom. Most of the room is taken up by a large bath tub on the far wall that has easily enough space for at least five ponies.

The tiling on the walls is incredible, with intricate patterns that ebb and flows like the ocean. A vivid palette of red and white reaches across the length of the room. You can only imagine how long it must have taken to design such a piece of art.

There’s a peculiar looking sink that is much lower than any of the ones you saw at home. Evidently designed with the smaller stature of a pony in mind. Above it hangs a large decorative mirror, lined with elegant swirling gold patterns and flowers, red roses in full bloom; you wonder how they can be alive while hanging from the mirror like that. Magic?

You haven’t had much time to take a good look at yourself since you came here.

You walk over to the sink and look at the sunken eyes that stare back. What was originally a bright red a day ago now looks dull and dirty. They must be reflecting how you feel right now, dull, tired and worried.

Your horn, the one you can’t use, sits upon your skull. If you could learn how to use magic maybe you have a chance of kicking Sombra’s flank? You sigh, no, that’s a bad idea. This is the pony that has an entire empire under his iron hoof, there’s no way you can beat him directly.

You can’t help but wonder why Sombra’s horn looks so different. Does dark magic affect the appearance of a pony too? Maybe he had a horn like yours once, graceful curves and shallow grooves.

Your once pristine white coat has become matted with sweat, sticking up in places and clumping together in others. Ugh. Even your cutie mark looks slightly off colour, which is strange. It looks like a tattoo, but has the texture of short fur.

What does the mark even represent anyway? A thorned rose is pretty ambiguous; it could mean nothing at all. You certainly didn’t earn it and all it does is remind you of the painful transformation Sombra forced upon you.

You turn to the huge bathtub. It sinks into the ground leaving it at foot level. A set of small steps lead down into it. The shining white porcelain is in pristine condition and makes you feel even dirtier. Maybe it’s time for you to take a bath.

You reach over to the brass taps, twisting them both into a position that you assume will provide you with nice, warm water. It quickly gushes out and begins to slowly fill the tub. You set yourself down near to the taps so you can turn them off later.

Steam slowly rises from the hot water, filling the room at a surprising rate. Soon the entire room looked like a sauna. You turn the taps off and sigh as your tense muscles unwind. You lay back and close your eyes, almost catching up on the sleep you lost last night.

You reach over and grab one of the assorted bottles that line the rim of the tub. “Rose Musk” is spelt out in fanciful cursive writing. You squirt some onto your hoof and struggle to keep it there, the lack of fingers making it near impossible to actually lift the stuff onto your mane.

Scrubbing it in is another question entirely, as you wince at the feeling of a solid hoof meeting your sensitive flesh. Slowly but surely you carefully massage the cream into your scalp, making sure to reach every area, you even take the time to rub some onto your coat.

You feel much better afterwards, it’s amazing how much a simple cleaning can do on a bad day. With a small spring in your step you pull the plug and get out, a pile of towels are conveniently placed nearby. You clutch one in between your clumsy hooves and give yourself a rub down; your new body doesn’t make this an easy task much to your frustration.

You huff and stomp a hoof in indignation. This sucks! How on Earth are you supposed to do this? Looks like you’ll be drip drying today. You carelessly toss the towel onto the floor and storm off to the sink.

A small cup holds what appears to a rather large toothbrush. It’s pretty big, even having a small brown strap to hold it with. The bristles look like they belong on a comb. You slip your hoof into it and pull it upwards.

Next step, toothpaste. It appears that ponies don’t use traditional tubes, thankfully, and instead utilize wash bottles. This makes it incredibly easy to slap a hoof down and get a good glob of the stuff.

Despite the brush nearly slipping away a couple of times, you manage to successfully clean your teeth. You place the brush back and look at yourself in the mirror again. You look much better, for the first time since you arrived you smile.

Now that you look again, you assume that you must be very attractive by pony standards in comparison to the guide from earlier. Your features are soft but well formed, your muzzle being long and slender giving your face an exotic flair.

Sombra must have made you with his ideal mare in mind, the hunger in his eyes from your first meeting suddenly becoming all the more terrifying. Either way, he doesn’t seem like the type to do anything sinister without notice or reason.

Maybe you can last and find a way back home. Nothing malicious seems to be in the works, not yet at least. If you can find the spell that he used, and a powerful unicorn, you’ll be home free.

You trot back out into the room and sit on one of the many couches that inhabit the lower area. There isn’t much to do in here apart from plot to escape. Guards, no windows and no magic seem to be pretty big detriments. So the escape attempt is on hold for now.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door. You remain still for a moment only for the pony outside to knock again. “Room service!” They call.

Room service? This isn’t a hotel. You pull open the door to see a well-dressed, light blue stallion behind a silver cart, which is covered in a white sheet. He ushers himself inside, kicking the door closed with a rear leg.

You can’t help but feel like you know him from somewhere, but he’s the first pony you’ve seen apart from Sombra and his servant. His little waistcoat and bow-tie barely cover a rather impressive physique, which is rather out of place for a simple worker. The coat-tails of the jacket only just manage to cover his cutie mark.

He whips away the sheet, revealing a large assortment of different foods such as a large salad, different pieces of desert and even a small serving of what appears to be steak. A simple glass of water balances precariously next to them.

The silver haired stallion stands there for a moment, before turning to you. He stops for a moment, his eyes widening comically. He shakes it off as you poke and prod at the food, suspicious of its content.

“I have to be quick.” He says in a surprisingly juvenile voice. He slicks back his hair and narrows his platinum blue eyes. “You aren’t under his control yet, right?” He whispers. You look at him in shock, somebody else who isn’t a lobotomy victim?

You nod feverously. “Yes! H-he kidnapped me and brought me here yesterday.” You quickly divulge.

He smirks cockily. “Fantastic! You have no idea how long it took me to infiltrate just the catering staff.” He holds a hoof to his chest. “I’m in a bind right now. But with my position as one of the catering staff I can easily get in here, I’m one of the only ones allowed.”
“Do you have a plan to get us out of here?” You ask with excitement.

“Yep! I’ve nearly got everything together too. But I’m going to need your help to gather some of the materials.”

“O-okay. What do you need?” You ask nervously.

“Under the salad, gotta’ go.” With that he quickly turns tail and leaves the room. The door slams shut as his hooves fade into the background. Under the salad? You lift the plate away to reveal a small piece of ruffled paper, with different items listed in shaky handwriting, he was in quite a rush to write this list. The hold it close and attempt to decipher what it says.

Some of the writing is smudged and hard to make out, but after a few minutes you believe to have figured out the whole list. Something called a “dark crystal reactor” is circled and underlined repeatedly, signifying its importance. Below it are fairly specific components, “1x storage crystal, 2x mana conductive wires of 15 meter length, a “Mana Spell Catalyst” and finally a phoenix feather. You have no idea where you’re going to get any of this stuff.

It sounds like he’s trying to build a freaking magic nuclear reactor of some kind.

Can you trust him? What if he’s another of Sombra’s little mind games? It’s strange how this friendly face managed to get himself on room service duty for assumedly the only non-brainwashed pony in the castle, with a specific list of items he needs to achieve an ambiguous goal.

It’s him or Sombra. Nuclear reactor it is.

First problem, where the hell are you going to get all of this stuff? You don’t know what a “storage crystal” is or what it looks like, never mind all the other stuff. A problem for another day, maybe you’ll get lucky and happen upon this stuff during your stay, if you ever get to leave your room.

You take the note and slip it under your pillow for later in case you forget what you need. First order of business however is the cart of delicious food waiting for you. You eagerly scoop up the salad and force it down your gullet, the fruit and greens having a distinct pop that you aren’t quite familiar with.

You move over to the meat. You aren’t sure if you can chew and swallow it properly, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. The blunt pony teeth make mashing up the lean meat difficult, and you can’t get the smell of death out of your nose the entire time. Despite this it’s quickly devoured.

You continue on, grabbing the pudding and custard desert. You don’t notice just how much food you’ve eaten until you’re licking the plate clean of the sweet yellow substance. You belch loudly and cover your mouth in embarrassment; luckily nobody is around to hear it.

The sheer volume of food you just ate would normally give you a nasty stomach pain of some kind, however despite your anticipation of agony it never comes. You aren’t sure whether to be disappointed or pleased. You push the cart out of the way of the door, hoping somebody else will come up to get it later.

Second order of business, getting out of your room. You’ve been cooped up in here for far too long.

You approach the door and slowly push it open. You peek out of the small gap and spot one of the guards standing at the door. He’s wearing black, crystalline armor. You’re unsure of how practical crystal armor is, but they wouldn’t be using it otherwise.

Evidently they didn’t hear your conversation with the mystery stallion as they continue to stare stone faced at the opposite wall. The occasional dull looking servant mopes past the room, ferrying carts around of cleaning the floors as they go.

You bite the bullet and push it open. However much to your surprise the guards don’t take notice, they shuffle out of the swinging doors but continue to stare in one direction. You trot forwards and close it again; even then the guards don’t break from their dead expressions.

You briskly turn to the left and head down the corridor. You have no idea where you’re going but anywhere is better than your room. Several of the servants stop and stare as you pass, but simply return to their duties as you leave their sight.

The castle is very monotonous, with identical corridors lined with identical doors and identical pairs of guards watching them. Several times you think you’ve gone in a complete circle. You wonder how all the staff manage to navigate this place, must be something that comes with experience.

You can’t help but get the feeling you’re being lead somewhere. So far you haven’t seen a single window to the outside world, the only illumination being from the torches hanging on the walls.

It turns out that you were correct, coming upon the dual doors of the throne room. They are open. You poke your head around them to see a long line of ponies, queuing towards the throne. Sombra sits there, speaking to a group of scruffy looking farmers.
“I’ll consider it.” He says, waving them off with a hoof. You step back as the group passes you.

“I can’t believe it! Does he want us to starve?” A crimson pony boiled. “Well his kingdom won’t be any good if all his subjects are dead!”

“Calm down dear.” A purple mare said, stroking his back. He continues to rant and rave as him and his family departs under a guard escort.

You look back to see a new pony under scrutiny. Who lets out a very un-stallion like screech before turning tail and running away from him. A pair of guards block his path, who grab him by the legs and drag him from the room kicking and screaming.

You hesitantly step into the room. The ponies don’t pay attention to their new collared visitor, instead keeping their eyes on the king. King Sombra’s eyes immediately snap to you. He smiles his sinister grin before beckoning you to come forwards with a hoof.
You hastily walk to the throne but stop at the steps.

Sombra fires up his horn, his eyes releasing the green smoke that he had been missing for so long. The crystals that constructed his dark throne shift, expanding to the left. A jagged set erupts from the new base, which smooth’s out and warps in order to form another throne. A little red pillow poofs into existence from above, and flops down onto the seat.

It was much less impressive than his but it was still intimidating in its own right. The black crystals seemingly capture the light from around them and emit it as an ominous purple glow. It gave Sombra a rather demonic bent, another little trick in his arsenal.

“Sit.” He ordered. With no room for retaliation you waddle up the steps and slide into the large seat. You match Sombra’s pose, with your front hooves holding you up and you lower body lying down, much like a dog.

He leans over to you. “Finally decided to get some fresh air?” He jives. “Good, you get to see how I run things.” You flinch away as he chuckles into your ear. You don’t know why he wants you to sit next to him. His little fantasy about you being his Queen isn’t working the way he’d hoped.

He backs up and waves the next pony up. A scrawny looking stallion grovels at the bottom of the black steps, throwing himself into a deep bow.

“Your majesty!” He declares, rising to his hooves. “I bring good word from the specters.”

“Very well. You may speak.”

“They have found the traitors base, to the north, in the caverns of the old mine. However they must act quickly, lest they move again.”

Sombra nodded and motioned to two guards. “Take him to the barracks, I want this cell stamped out for good, you know what to do.” The guards move in on either side of the stallion and walk him away. A resistance movement? Your new friend must be working with them. You hope they haven’t caught him already. He’s your only ticket out of here.

You don’t pay much attention to the next few discussions, which consist of boring agricultural arguments and something about a dark crystal mine. As you huff and sit there like a decorative statue, a strange feeling begins to well in your lower body. You look down, left and right but fail to notice the subtle glow of Sombra’s horn or the grip it has around your collar.

Your body heats up rapidly, breaking into a sweat which causes your body to itch all over. You hold a straight face and fidget slightly, unwilling to flinch or embarrass yourself. A blush blooms along your face as your lower lips begin to moisten.

A small dribble running down your fur alerts you. Your black marehood looks puffed up. You flinch as you see a clit poke out before retreating back in. Sombra continues to discuss farming with the subject like nothing is going on, has he even noticed?

You cross your hooves in order to cover yourself. Luckily it appears that none of the other ponies have noticed your situation. A perverse thrill infests your mind; you were really horny in front of all these ponies and they didn’t know a thing. Your hoof slowly begins to drift towards the weeping hole.

You could just rub one out, right in front of all of them and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Yes!

“No!” You screech, breaking from the haze. You jump up and run away without looking back. That was him! His magic! He was fucking controlling you! You hear the clanking of armor coming after you but they stop as you cross the threshold of the door.

What the hell you were thinking back there? You chide yourself as you bolt past a bewildered servant. You wish you could be alone, away from all of these beady eyes. You wish you could just… disappear!

With a flash, you find yourself running face first into the bed. You bounce backwards and land on your flanks. You groan as they throb in pain, which only becomes more intense as your needy marehood winks furiously. You bite your lip hard and try to think of something, anything that can calm you down. You come up blank.

The bathroom door is still open, you remind yourself. You hesitate for a moment, before stepping in and locking the door with a click.

Rub Out

You tremble slightly as the warm feeling of arousal blooms across your body. The cold air of the bathroom does little to cool the intense heat you feel from down below. Droplets of sweat roll down your coat as pins and needles prick and prod your skin.

You need to come, badly.

You shakily lock the door latch to prevent any untimely visitors and trot to the bathtub. You don’t want to spend too long cleaning up in the main room; in the bath you can easily wash it away. You briskly walk down the stairs and plop yourself down in the center.

You look to the white ceiling and close your eyes tight. A solitary hoof drifts down across your fur and towards your blazing honeypot. You flinch as you make contact before shivering in delight. This feels amazing!

You carefully stroke the outer lips of your needy marehood, the rough leathery skin desperate for contact. The heat only grows worse, welling up inside your chest and leaving an unpleasant taste on your tongue.

You grow bolder and place more pressure, the tip of your hoof pushing them aside and making first contact with the blazing hot interior. It feels like masturbating back when you were a guy, but much better, the surface area of your erogenous zones being much larger. It’s like masturbating with five dicks at once.

Your muscles clench and relax as you rub up and down, a natural reflex to keep the stallion inside as he fills your womb with seed. You bite your lip and moan as you speed up, you can’t help but imagine being pounded by a strong stud, relentlessly slapping his pendulous balls against you.

You push more inside, nearly engulfing your entire hoof in juices. Your imagination only grows wilder, rapidly flickering between different scenarios and stallions with the common theme of you being ravaged by a massive cock. Soon it goes a step further as they unload their heavy balls into your receptive snatch.

Your arm begins to ache from fatigue, forcing you to slow down. You begin to alternate between long periods of stroking your entrance and short bursts of plunging back inside. Your orgasmic moans drown out everything else. You don’t care that you’re masturbating furiously under the eye of an evil dictator; all that matters is how good it feels.

He could be watching you right now through some kind of surveillance spell, but for some reason the thought only makes your condition worse. You grit your teeth and speed up again, determined to finish yourself off before anybody finds you. You pant like a dog in heat as pressure begins to build, your hoof moving at a blinding pace to bring you to finish.

You quiver as you feel it coming.

You scream to the heavens as a rush of pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before fries your nerves. The internal muscles clamp down with crushing force and cause you to jolt. Your back arches as it releases in a flood of yellowish liquid that splatters against the ground, soaking your errant hoof. You twitch and moan hopelessly as you slide down the porcelain wall, lying in your own juices.

Your eyes remain fixed onto the ceiling. Every little movement gives an uncomfortable feeling, like blood rushing back to a limb. You are drenched in a sickly combination of your own sweat and piss yellow juices. Why did it have to be yellow?

You roll over and hobble to the taps, running them in order to wash it down the drain. You feel ashamed of yourself; you let Sombra get the advantage. You don’t know how he did it, but at the drop of a hat he turned you into a horny exhibitionist. You were lucky to retain the self-control needed to run away.

You scowl, what is his game? To fuck you into submission? He didn’t need to, he has all the power to simply brainwash you like everybody else. You scrub away the crust that has dried onto your back. You hold yourself under the tap to wash it away.

You need to get a move on. If you want any chance to escape you need to get the components for your rebel friend’s plan. If they’ve found the base already they must be under a lot of pressure. You worry for his safety as you towel off for the second time today.

You unlock the door and walk back into the bedroom, noting that the cart from earlier was mysteriously absent. You hope they didn’t take it away while you were “busy”.

Rumble.

Yet you still manage to be really damn hungry! You scarfed down an entire buffet earlier and you’re already eager for more. Getting food means leaving; leaving means a chance of running into the king. A risk you’d rather not take.

Then again, he was probably still busy with court. So you could either wait and starve, or take the chance to sneak out and grab something.

Rumble!

You really need that food. With a tired sigh you leave the room again, past the same guards, the same staff and the same corridors. You have no idea where the dining room is, they didn’t exactly give you a welcome tour when you arrived.

Nobody seems to look at you anymore, like the novelty has worn off. The real shock comes when several of the guards stand to attention as you pass them. You stare for a moment, before turning away and speeding up slightly. That was weird.

You spend several more minutes trying to find your way around this labyrinth of a castle with increasing frustration as time goes on. Just as you think of asking for help from a nearby servant, you notice an open door. Curious you peek inside, your jaw dropping at the sight of towering wooden bookshelves.

A library!

So many books! They shelves manage to make contact with the ceiling, an incredible feat considering the size of the room. They stretch on far beyond your vision, seemingly going on forever. Several rickety looking ladders cling onto the monolithic shelves, providing a risky way for prospective readers to grab a high up book.

You head inside, past the empty reception desk and towards the section guides. You squint and read down the list, there must be at least two hundred different sections on everything from cooking, aviation and… magical artifacts?

Row fifty, shelf two.

You depart and canter past thousands of differently colored books. You keep a close eye on which row you’re at, eventually coming to a stop at fifty. You make a left and scan the second shelf for anything which could help you.

“Novices Guide to Crystal Artifacts” comes to your attention, written in gold cursive lettering. You pull the blue book from the shelf and lay it on the ground. Flipping open to the index as you try to recall the list you were given.

Crystal Ball, Crystal Glasses, Crystal Armor, Crystal Affectus Amplifier, Storage Crystal, Spell Catalyst!

Pages 101 and 106 you note, flipping through the large pages. It’s a very detailed book complete with images, descriptions and uses for every single piece of equipment. You stop at page 101 and begin to read with the new language Sombra had implanted in you.

You never realized until now, but pony is very different to English. It’s difficult to describe in your own terms, as it feels like you’ve known how to speak Pony your entire life

The notes of the storage crystal are much shorter than all the others. It acts like a magic capacitor, storing up magic energy before releasing it. From what little you know about magic it acts more like a liquid than a type of electricity.

The storage crystal will hold as much magic as it can, but releases it into other components when they run dry via some kind of energy pressure calculation you can’t figure out. It’s not like you’re putting the thing together anyway. All you need to know is what it looks like.

The image is thankfully in color, as the shape of the crystal is less than distinctive. It glows a soft blue on the image, but the captions warn that depending on who charges it up that glow will vary. They’re frequently used in kitchens to power magical appliances and as a primitive and rather inefficient light source in remote areas.

You wonder why the blue stallion can’t just grab a few from the kitchen. Maybe he’s trying to hide his treachery for as long as possible. Easy enough to obtain, just look for the sparkly things.

The Catalyst on the other hand is another story.

It’s very pointy, for one thing. Like the North Star. The abundance of points, according to the book, is to increase its surface area and speed up magical reactions. They’re made of an incredibly conductive and rare crystal that can only be found deep in the bowels of the frozen north. How convenient, you ponder.

There aren’t any suggestions on how to obtain one, only listing a series of locations and dates of known quantities. Unfortunately for you, none of them are within the Crystal empire, that or the book is severely out of date.

You huff and growl. You hate having to look for things! You could never find your damn keys when you lost them, so how are you going to find one of the rarest crystals in existence? You slam the book shut.

You place the book back onto the shelf. It takes a moment for you to orient yourself between the identical isles but you soon find yourself back at the desk. Thankfully nobody is here to catch you snooping around. What to do now?

Rumble. Oh right, food.

You head back into the corridor and approach a burly guard. You can see his muscles tense as you approach him.

“Do you know the way to the kitchens?” You ask.

He relaxes and points an armored hoof behind him. “Behind me, first left, second right.” He instructs. You thank him and leave him to his business. You have no idea how the staff manage to get around this place. Everything looks so similar.

The sound of clanking cutlery and a very angry lead chef reach your ears. His boisterous tone layered with anger as he scolds a whimpering waiter.

The hall was actually smaller than you were expecting. With a large dark wood table that stretches from end to end. A pair of swinging double doors at the far side of the room seems to lead to the palace kitchen.

The seats are lavish, the backs reaching past your own height and adorned with comfortable red padding. The seat at the end is by far the biggest, and presumably belongs to Sombra, as indicated by its ugly black finish.

You choose one of the chairs near the middle. Pulling it out awkwardly with your front hooves before scooting forwards once you’re sat down. A little bell lies near the center. You stretch for it and tap the button, a loud ding echoing in the empty room.

The doors swing open as the suit wearing waiter approaches. “What would you like to order Milady?” He asks in a refined accent. “Our special today is a delicious Lasagna and a new berry pie recipe coined by one of the new workers.”

You don’t have a menu, you clop your hooves together. “I’ll just take the special.” You say. He nods and swiftly returns to the kitchen. You sit in silence. You’d kill for some good company right now. The sounds of hooves roll in from the door, the occasional greeting or discussion being muted by the thick crystal walls.

You zone out, thinking about everything that’s happened up to now. You feel kind of optimistic, the hero always wins, so why wouldn’t be any different now. You have a plan, somebody to help and the knowledge of an organized resistance against Sombra’s rule. It could all go horribly wrong, but in the end it has to work out for the better.

A plate is placed in front of you, wiping away your wishful thinking. The waiter places a knife and fork at both sides of the plate, bows and leaves.

You can worry about the plan later. You are hungry.

Author's Note

i knew there was something i had to do today ;)

Small amount of NSFW in this one. It'll get more substantial later on.

Boil Over

A deathly silence had descended on the room like a thick blanket. An empty plate lies in front of you, long since licked clean. None of the kitchen staff seem intent to check on you. You didn’t know what to do anymore. The goal of constructing the contraption handed to you by your rebel friends seems further away than ever.

Your dampened spirits leave you moping. Head down on the hard wood of the table. Maybe the kitchen staff know full well to stay away, you feel like you could rip somebodies head off with little remorse. Maybe some fresh air will do you good, if you’re allowed outside anyway.

You push away from the stable, ringing the bell to alert the waiter to the finished meal. Before he can enter you swiftly exit the room, same boring corridors, same still guards and the same frantic staff. Maybe you’re just bored of all of it. A few days of captivity aren’t exactly exciting or stimulating.

You approach another guard and ask him for directions. Like the other guard you spoke to earlier he stumbled over his words, practically bending over backwards to accommodate you. Sombra’s doing most likely, chastising his guards and telling them to treat you like royalty.

He has no problem with telling you where the garden is located, even offering to escort you there. You politely decline but thank him for the help leaving him with a noticeable blush on his face as you walk away. You’d think that the guards would be more professional than to be flustered by a small compliment like that.

You find it difficult to image the palace as the same one from the show; the most noticeable difference being how large this place is. You could wander for hours and never find what you’re looking for. In the show it never looked this large from the outside. Maybe this place isn’t as similar to the canon as you’d like, without heroic alicorns to rescue you from the machinations of an unpredictable dictator.

You can’t place him. He’s welcoming but at the same time cold, purposeful to a tee. Sombra could easily bend your mind to his will at any time yet he doesn’t. He gets a sick thrill from confounding you, leaving you dazed and confused as he laughs away in his throne room.

To be honest it’s also the reason you don’t trust the silver haired stallion. Nothing happens in the castle without Sombra knowing. The timely arrival felt far too convenient to be a natural occurrence, especially when he wants you to collect a list of rare and potentially dangerous items for him. For all you know it could be Sombra in a silly disguise, waiting for you to complete his item hunt before ripping the hope away from your grasp.

Building it might not even be in your best interest, a dark crystal reactor sounds dangerous. You’d rather stay away from danger right now.

The climate of the room changes, the stale air from before being swept away in a wonderful warm breeze. Your fur stands on end as you walk out into a wonderful garden. A beautiful pathway winds through a sea of green grass, beds of flowers and rows of trees lining the way. Your joy is marred slightly as you notice the oppressive gray crystal walls that surround the area in a neat circle.

At least you can finally see the sun. It shines bright in the cloudless sky, casting bright rays down onto the sparkling garden. You take in a deep breath of the air and find yourself smiling, the stress of the past few days melting away as you trot further down the pathway. You wonder just how high up the garden is.

It’s very quiet. There’s a complete absence of any kind of noise from the garden itself, no animals to chirp and squeak during the morning or evening. The dull sound of a crowd can be heard from somewhere far away, faint music accompanying the gathering. It feels artificial. Why wouldn’t it? Outside could actually be a blazing hell scape and you wouldn’t know any different.

A group of armored pegasi fluttered down from above landing softly to silence the metal gauntlets. You were curious as to why a group of guards entered the palace through the garden of all places; it must be standard procedure when they need to get around the upper levels. They fan out, quickly passing you by and heading to the arched doorway. One looks back at you as they leave, mouthing something to his comrade.

You sit under one of the trees, pawing at the tight collar wrapped around your neck. You really want to get this thing off, but you doubt a pair of scissors is appropriate for such thick leather. You’d have to be away from Sombra too. He’d know something is up if he saw his pet without her trademark collar.

You don’t understand why he collared you upon arrival. Apart from the initial shock and physiological effect it didn’t serve much purpose at all. There was no loop to attach it to anything or latch to remove it.

You sit there in silence, listening to the ambient noise of the festival and rustling foliage. It’s nice to get away from all the prying eyes after two days of near constant isolation or observation. Sombra must have a way to keep an eye on you to let you wander around like this, that or he’s very confident in his security measures.

Your reverie is shattered by a blood curdling scream and the sound of shouting guards. The sudden clashing of armor can be heard from the hallways. What’s going on? You hesitate, unsure if it would be safe to head over and investigate. The shouts grow louder and more numerous, erupting into clashes of armor.

You gallop to the arch, skidding to a halt in the hallway. Blood mars the normally clean floor, the ghostly face of a dead maid staring back from the puddle. The armored stallions stand over her, skirmishing with the guards. They fall back slightly, taking a pair of casualties from the well trained palace officers.

One spots you, eyes widening in recognition. Before you can scurry away he sweeps towards you, pointing a bloodied spear at your jugular. “Don’t scream whore.” He warns, motioning to the dead body of the maid. “Unless you want to join her.” Sombra’s guard stop, afraid for your safety. They fall back slightly but shout for backup as one of their number run to gather assistance.

“That’s right, stay back!” An older stallion yells, pushing back his own line of troops. You begin to shake, adrenaline filling your veins. A storm of emotions build up inside you as they forcefully haul you away around a corner. They pull open one of the many guest suites and push you inside, filing in behind you.

“Keep her under guard, we need to wait for the rest of the guys.” The old unicorn commands. The spear wielding colt grunts and escorts you to one of the couches. “Sit.” He orders leaving no room for compromise.

“Why are we keeping her?” He asks. “She’s already broken.” You gasp as the bloodied head moves closer; you feel malice for the crystal stallion as he grins at your reaction.

“Don’t be so hasty!” The unicorn shouts, knocking it away. He looks to you, spotting the collar and frowning. “Oh dear. I would’ve thought that he wouldn’t be so foolish as to use one of these.” He comments.

“W-what?” You stammer as he squints his eyes, carefully studying the leather.

“This collar… it’s very antiquated magic, highly flawed. Used to be used in the crystal mines to keep the slaves in line, the side effects too numerous to be useful.” It’s some kind of mind control collar? All of your actions so far have been your own choice… haven’t they?

“Easy enough to remove though.” He continues. His deep red horn lights in a yellow glow, wrapping around the collar. Your doubt grows rapidly, leaving you motionless as you consider your behavior for the past two days.

A loud bang alerts the rest of the fighters. "Hurry it up!" He shouts urgently. They run to the door and press themselves against it in an attempt to stop the battering force of the palace guards. "Seriously, we're about to get slaughtered here!" The unicorn furrows his brow as his magic continues to tug and test the strength of the collar. He doesn't seem to really mind the iminent threat of Sombra's soldiers.

The door explodes inwards, tossing the stallions around like ragdolls. Several get caught out by pieces of shrapnel, which embed themselves into their limbs, making it impossible for them to get away. "Bucking hell!" The rash stallions shouts. "We have to go!" He pulls on the unicorns shoulder like a needy child. The unicorn remains focused on removing the collar. His accomplice looks back as several of the others are cut down. "Screw this! You can stay here if you want!"

“Wait a sec-“ The unicorn declares. His words fade away as an arrow bolt pierces his throat, splattering you with crimson blood. He coughs and gargles as his windpipe collapses, a copious flow of blood escaping from his wheezing mouth.

You briefly pick up the sound of more voices, yelling a distant war cry. The crystal stallion remains by your side, shocked by the sudden reappearance of the guards from before, their ranks being bolstered by crossbow wielders. Everything fades away as you watch the light behind the unicorns yellow eyes flicker and perish, a candle being cruelly snubbed by the jaws of death.

The other pegasi and crystal ponies soon fall without their leader, cut down by the well trained members of the palace forces. They never really stood a chance. You feel cold steel press against your furry neck. The remaining stallion pushing away the body of his dead leader to give the entire battalion a clear view of the danger you are in.

“Don’t get near me!” He shouts, pulling your catatonic body against his own. “Sombra wouldn’t be too happy about his guest being killed!” He walks back towards the wall, closing off angles of attack from your would-be rescuers. You don’t struggle in order to keep the bloody metal away from your vulnerable neck.

“Buck all of you! This isn’t over, not by a long shot! We’ll be back, and we’ll kill your tyrant King and all of his subjects!” He screamed in your ear, the guards closing in from all sides. Your despair had tapered away, being replaced with a feeling of emptiness having watched somebody die in front of your eyes.

As the wicked spear rushed towards you, a new feeling blossoms from the depths of your mind. Pure malice, hate so intense that all you can think of is how many ways you can disembowel and kill the stallion threatening your life, and the lives of all the other innocent staff in the castle.

It stops. Held in an aura of blood red magic. The stallion tenses as the spear is ripped away from his grasp and onto the floor in front of him. The guards converge, kicking the spear back out of his reach and blocking his escape. He pulls you to his chest, fore hooves wrapped tightly around your neck. You gasp as the air is pushed from your lungs, his strong arms preventing you from breathing.

“B-burn…” you wheeze. You concentrate the feeling of malice from before, focusing it down your horn and into a magic state. The edges of your vision grow dark, but the impending success of the stallion only makes your magic stronger.

His body temperature skyrockets, easily felt through his muscled chest. His hooves release their grasp, dropping you to the ground, too weak to stand again. It starts quietly, but he soon begins to scream as the emotion based spell hits him full force.

The blood in his veins boil as his body shuts down. Functions that require a constant internal heat rapidly stopping or being destroyed thanks to the spell. His lungs fail, inflating and bursting inside his chest cavity as he coughs blood onto the ground. He writhes in pain, no longer able to scream as the pain cuts away at his senses and motor functions.

He drops to the ground, being left eye to eye with you. Your vision fades, but not before you see his candle go out. His eyes plead, beg to live, or maybe to be put out of his misery. It doesn’t matter now, he was already doomed.

You don’t pity him, not like the others.

Blackness holds you.

The guards watched in horror as the hostage taker choked on his own blood, his body lying limp next to Sombra’s future consort. The puddle of scalding hot blood spread under their hooves as his body expelled nearly everything. It spread underneath Rose, giving her a ghostly aura, her hair matching the crimson river perfectly.

They looked between their own ranks. Hesitation reigned as his eyes died away and his killer passed out. The squad leader frowned as a couple of his men heaved over the nearby balcony. “Pick her up. Get her cleaned, and get the King down here. I want to know how the hell these bastards got into our palace.”

A chorus of “Yes sir.” Echoed through the room, the white mare being taken away on a stretcher.

Author's Note

wow something actually happened in this chapter

Composure

You crack open a crusty eyelid, wincing at the bright lights that shine from the ceiling. A crashing headache cripples you. You groan as your head begins to pound. Thankfully somebody notices your plight as the lights dim significantly allowing you to crack open your eyes. The white tiled ceiling is a noticeable departure from the all crystal structure of the palace, did you get moved?

You’re in a hospital room, complete with sterile air and cheap seating. There are no windows and the only light source are the crystals on the wall which emit a warm orange glow. Are there any windows in this place? A green wooden door stands close to your left. A cloudy glass window shows a vaguely white corridor outside.

Your neck feels sore. It hurts slightly when you breathe. You must have some kind of bruising around your neck. The stallion, the one that you killed. He did it. Your breathing picks up slightly as flashes of the fight are brought up from your memory. You killed somebody. You don’t feel… bad about it. You feel like an outside observer to your own feelings.

You begin to grow frustrated. Why don’t you feel so terrible about it? You’d never kill anyone! Not even your worst enemy. Despite your attempts to induce feelings of disgust and horror with yourself you feel perfectly fine with the proceedings.

What would you do differently anyway? He was trying to choke you to death; there was no way the guards would be able to get to you in time. You don’t even want to start thinking about what vile magic you used on the guy, the last thing you remember seeing was him coughing up steaming blood.

You can faintly remember that fleeting moment of power. Pushing your anger towards him, wishing that he’d burn for what he did, and then he did, he burned. You shake your head. You shouldn’t dwell on it for too long. There’s nothing you can do about it now. The sound of muffled voices can be heard from behind the door. Somebody must be coming to visit.

They stop at the door, the distorted form of two ponies talking. The white one nods and walks away while the black motions to somebody out of sight. He opens it, revealing a very serious looking Sombra. He walks in and shuts the door with his magic, you notice that there are no guards posted outside. He must have dismissed them.

You watch him wearily. He walks around to the right side of the bed, pulling up a chair with his magic. He taps the metal rail on the bed with a fore hoof. His eyes avert from your own as he struggles to put his thoughts into words. His face twists into a rollercoaster of different emotions as you sit there and stare awkwardly. The clanging stops, he makes eye contact again.

“I want to know everything; every little detail, every thought and every action. When you are finished, I shall reach a judgment on what to do with you.” He demands ominously. “Speak. I wish to have this over with.”

“I was in the gardens.” You begin.

“Doing what exactly?” He interrupts.

“Getting some fresh air, I was tired of sitting in my room.” He seems to accept your reason and nods along. “While I was sitting there, a group of armored pegasi came down from the sky. I thought they were some of your guards, they were wearing the armor.”

“Guard armor?” He mouths silently. “How many of them?”

“About five or six, I wasn’t really counting them. I can’t tell you much else about them, they all looked the same.”

“Armor enchantment, it keeps the identity of my soldiers secret. How did you encounter them?”

“I heard a scream from the hallway so I went and took a look. They were fighting with the real guards. I don’t think they were the same ponies, there was-“

“A unicorn yes, we already counted the bodies.” Your face pales at the implication. “I believe that these pegasi are still residing within the palace.” An awkward silence falls upon the room. Your heart begins to speed up at the thought of more of them hiding in the palace. After your last encounter you don’t feel all too fond of them.

“How did you kill him?” He asks out of the blue. You look to him with your eyes wide open in shock. His flippant question has stumped you, how did you kill him? “Do you not understand my question? How did you kill the last colt? I see the bruises that stain your skin. I heard it from my soldiers; they saw him choke to death on his own blood.” His eyes glare at you with intensity you haven’t seen before, not even when scolding the citizens at your short stay in court.

“I-I don’t know.” You stammer, shaking slightly. “I was so angry. I… pushed it onto him. I was angry with him because he was trying to kill me. I don't know how it killed him.”

“You don’t know much about magic do you?” He chides. “It’s closely tied to your emotions. That burning anger you felt, you channeled it through your horn and cast it onto his body and mind. Emotions are an extension of our own will, such as is we use our emotions to cast spells. Tell me, what did you want to happen to him?”

“I wanted him to burn.” You whisper. Sombra looks shocked for a moment, even concerned.

“That was no fire, do not lie to me.”

“I wanted him to burn!” You shout, raising yourself from the bed. “He’d dead, because of me. How I did it doesn’t matter!” Your voice cracks as you wail at the shocked King. He waits for you to calm down. Your heart pounds in your chest as the implications of what you admitted hit full force.

“It does matter, very much so.” He snarls. “Such magic I have yet to see with my own eyes. Yet here you are, speaking as if it’s nothing to be worried about. Magic of such abject cruelty that I can’t help but to be drawn to the stories of which is creates. Magic so dangerous that it proprietors were to be hunted down and exterminated like vermin!”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, cutting through his monologue. He looks at your horsehead as he speaks.

“Blood magic.” He finishes simply. “I see your true nature now. A highly emotional being that dwells in anger for the misfortunes placed upon you, pushing that anger onto others and boiling the blood within their veins.” He moves to stand, pushing the chair back to its former position. He stands tall, a small chink in his calm façade showing as he walks to the door.

“After you are discharged from this infirmary, you are moving rooms. I want you no more than a hoofs reach away at all times. Do not wander around the castle without my explicit permission, lest you find yourself in harm’s way.” With that he turns and leaves the room at a brisk pace leaving you in silence once again.

You find yourself repeating your therapy from the first night, beating up your pillow as if to say that it’s the sole cause of all your problems. You scream and curse, but in the end you find yourself curled into a small, bitter ball at the foot of the bed. You have no idea why you feel this way. Before you came here you never lashed out, never got extremely angry. But now you can’t go five minutes without departing from the station of good sense and flying into extreme anger or sadness.

Maybe Sombra’s right.

No! You won’t let him win. This is just another of his little games to keep you here, to be his complacent little consort for the rest of your days. He’s shown his hand and told you about your biggest advantage. Blood magic, the term sends shivers down your spine. You could tell that Sombra was losing his composure. To find out that his weak slave had a dangerous and rare form of magic must have thrown a huge wrench in his plans, not to mention the rebel assault.

You hear the door being unlatched. You have no idea what time it is, the lack of windows has completely destroyed your internal clock. The nurse isn’t due for another visit at least, she only saw to you half an hour ago. The door opens with a loud squeal, revealing the blue stallion so intent of helping you escape. You smile as he approaches the bed. His disguise has changed, from the little waiter’s uniform from before to a long white coat. It’s long enough to cover his cutie mark, again, which can’t help but arouse your suspicion.

His silver mane is unkempt and knotted, indicating some kind of struggle. His trademark winning smile still remains however. “How are you doing?” He asks pulling up the chair Sombra sat on earlier. He even manages to adopt the same sitting posture.

“Not good.” You say. You look down at your hooves and rub a fetlock absent mindedly. “Sombra gave me a bit of trouble for what happened earlier.”

“You mean the attack? I heard about that, tough break.” He whispers somberly.

“You didn’t know about it?” You whisper back.

“Of course I did, I just didn’t have the capacity to help out. We don’t have many secure lines of communication beyond what we can tell each other in pony. My position within the castle is really important to our cause.”

He doesn’t seem to know that you killed one of them, nor does he notice the very prominent bruises around your neck from where one of his friends choked you.

“What’s your name?” You ask suddenly. “You haven’t really told me much about yourself.”

“I don’t want to tell you my life story; it isn’t really the time for it. My name is Silver, Silver Shield.” His appearance finally clicks; it’s the knight from the story! Silver shield, the valiant hero of the crystal empire, hero of Equestria and vanquisher of darkness. Considering everything that’s happened so far it makes sense that he’d be here too, this is a near mirror image of the universe from the story.

“Nice to meet you.” You joke. He chuckles slightly and places a reassuring hoof on your shoulder; you flinch slightly from the contact. “H-how’s the rebellion going?”

“I think that Sombra’s days are numbered.” He states matter-of-factly. “Have you got your hooves on any of the stuff I need?”

“No, I haven’t had much opportunity to grab any of them for you.”

“Don’t feel obligated. I’m working on getting them gathered too. Sombra is keeping a very close eye on you after all.” He removes his hoof and hops off the chair, once again pushing it back to the original position against the wall. “We’ll catch him out soon enough. Then we can ru- liberate the empire and take things back to the good old days.”

He smiles as he finishes his little sales pitch. He looks to you and begins staring at your forehead. “You look different; did you do something with your mane?”

You feel your hair but can’t find anything different about it. “They must have washed it.” You reason. Silver nods and smiles again before giving you a curt bow. “They’re moving my room by the way. I’m staying closer to Sombra now.”

He bites his bottom lip. “That isn’t good. No good at all. Watch out for him okay? I wouldn’t trust that stallion if he were my own brother.” He quickly turns and leaves. You stare longingly at the spot where he stood, you really wish you could go with him and escape from his blasted castle. He’ll be back soon you think, and then you can escape.

You drift into a daze. The boredom of lying in an empty hospital room gets to you. You make up lots of little scenarios in your head about how you’re going to escape. You run a hoof through your mane but wince and squeak as something shark pokes you in the leg. You pull it down and hiss as a stinging wound dribbles a few small droplets of blood.

You place it to your muzzle and lick your wound. What the hell? How did you manage to stab yourself?

While you were distracted one of the nurses had slipped into the room. “Hello.” She greets cheerfully. You jump as the unnoticed mare pulls the clipboard from the end of your bed. She flips through the pages fitfully.

“It seems your windpipe is perfectly fine, apart from the bruising of course. You’re fit for discharge.” She looks up at you and watches in curiosity as you attempt to look at your own horn. “Would you like a mirror Miss?”

“Oh! Sure.” She scuttles away for a minute, before returning with a small hand mirror in her mouth. She hands it to you and you carefully clamp it between two hooves. Your neck looks a mess, with big purple bruises easily visible under your thin fur. Everything else looks okay. You angle them mirror upwards. Your horn comes into view and you nearly drop it in shock.

Whereas before your horn was graceful and curved, much like the other unicorns you’d seen around the palace, it was now significantly longer and much smoother. The grooves are still faintly visible in their former location, but they’re much shallower now. In the right lighting they disappear completely. The tip is also much sharper which explains how you managed to stab yourself with it.

Your mouth hangs open as you observe the cosmetic differences. The nurse stands there awkwardly, unsure of what is drawing your ire. She coughs into her foreleg to catch your attention. You hand her the mirror, she grabs it in-between her lips and sets it down on the floor.

“Well then, let’s get you out of that bed.”

Your new room was much like the old one. Same furniture, same layout, same bed and they even copied to bathroom down to the finest detail. Sombra must have been waiting to spring this change on you the moment he had an excuse, not exactly subtle.

Your new arrangements also included a guard escort. You weren’t allowed to speak with them either meaning fraternization and potential leniency were thrown out of the window, if you had a window anyway.

The mystery of your new horn could wait for now. You were worried about something much more serious. You had left the list that Silver gave you under your pillow, meaning that it was open for any nosey maid or guard to find, take and give to the King. The worst case scenario being that he’ll throw you in a dungeon for being a traitor.

The new guards are unwilling to let you leave, citing orders from Sombra to keep you in sight at all times. You really do need his permission to go anywhere. It’s a strange cross between being protective and suspicious of you. He doesn’t want all the work bringing you here to go to waste. Things might not be going to plan for him though, his behavior in the hospital being a far cry from the cool and collected tyrant you saw in the throne room.

Building this reactor for Silver is rapidly falling out of your grasp. You need a new way to undermine him. Already you’ve managed to mess with his plans by demonstrating blood magic, something he was almost afraid of, with a few more incidents like that his whole game could come crashing down. He’s panicking slightly, placing you under armed guard so you don’t get injured again, or injure anybody else.

It’s almost sweet of him in a way, but you still shudder slightly at the thought of him acting nice to you. He’s going to find himself in some very hot water soon, pressure from the rebels, Silver and you. He doesn’t stand a chance.

Author's Note

Sorry for the slow update, I've been quite busy recently.

Rebel, Rebel

After having free reign on the palace for your entire stay so far, having two guards drag you to the throne room to meet with the King is startling. The gloves are off now and Sombra isn’t taking any chances. They stand close on both sides, making sure you don’t have any room to maneuver or run.

The corridors are empty again, the ponies having been relegated to their respective quarters for the foreseeable future. You don’t like the silence. You can almost hear the whispers of the workers, gossiping or worrying over the sudden quarantine, news of the earlier bloodbath must have made its rounds already.

The guards don’t seem nervous, not like the others who’d fall head over hoof to help you. They stare ahead, unwilling to pay you any mind. It’s nice to not be treated as the center of attention for once. The throne room doors are as imposing as ever, to other ponies, the masterfully crafted carvings demonstrating another faucet of Sombra’s power. It almost makes you yawn. They lose their effect the third time round. Seeing Sombra stumble earlier has injected you with a sudden boost of confidence.

They follow you all the way down. Sombra sits on his gaudy throne. His full attention is on you. The guards split away and stand at the steps. It’s probably for the best that you don’t get any closer. He stares at you, you stare back.

He chuckles waving a hoof towards the door, his horn glowing, a large crash echoes throughout the room like a pair of cymbals. You look back and see another row of guards entering the room; behind them, a row of chained pegasi, each with a vibrant coat of colour. They aren’t crystal like all the other ponies. There are seven in total, each following on from the other in a chain gang.

The guards glare menacingly at them. They occasionally throw a punch or kick into the group to keep them in line. Yelps and cries of pain following the discipline. Magic wraps around the shackles, snapping them away from one another and attaching them to a far row of metal rings embedded in the ground. Your earlier thoughts were correct. The rings are used to hold slaves.

You recognize them now; these are the ones who came in through the garden. Sombra claps his hooves and the guards leave, slamming the door behind them. Some of the prisoners flinch and whimper in response.

He descends the steps and comes to stand to your left. “It’s so nice of you gentlecolts to join us tonight. I’m sure you just couldn’t ignore a royal summons?”

With a measured gait he trots to them. He makes eye contact with them, going down the line and staring into their eyes for around five seconds each. Some of them stand firm and refuse to cower, a few begin to shake in a seizure like fashion, chest heaving in panic.

This continues until he reaches the final stallion. His light green fur is stained with blood and bruises, indicating some kind of scuffle. None of the other prisoners seem to be harmed. He has rough light blue hair and a spy glass for a cutie mark. He scowls at Sombra with contempt unlike anything you’ve seen before. “You will not faze me demon. I am righteous in my fury, and convicted in my honor.”

You raise an eyebrow at the almost religious rhetoric, while Sombra laughs with near childlike glee.

“You are a very special stallion.” He begins. In the blink of an eye he strikes, a powerful bolt of magic striking the prisoner at the knee joint, red eyes bellow green smoke as the pressure slowly increases, before snapping the limb like a twig. He screeches in agony as the leg is bent backwards. The loud snapping sound echoes through the hall, some of the other soldiers are nearly hyperventilating.

“Your little goddesses can’t help you here. You are blind to your own ignorance, and shackled not just by me.” Sombra declares. He glares at the others, who avert their gaze to the ceiling or floor. Their resistance has been thoroughly shattered, leaving a group of scared and powerless colts. You don’t dare speak up for them, especially after the brutal display on the angry stallion’s leg.

Sombra turns back to him. He’s on the ground now, cradling the broken pieces of his forearm. His eyes water in agony as he bites back another scream. “I find you amusing; your bravado means little in the face of reality.” He doesn’t speak back, having curled into a furry ball on the ground. “Hide little pony.” Sombra growls. “You’ll all fall in line soon enough.”

Sombra turns to you, the green smoke from his eyes slowly dissipating into the air. “Come over here Rose.” He demands. You reluctantly fall in and stand next to the curled up stallion. He waves a hoof across the entire line of prisoners.

“These are the stallions that broke in through the garden, are they not?”

“I don’t know.” You honestly don’t, all of their coats were the same thanks to the armor.

“Of course you don’t.” He replies condescendingly. “But finding a group of pegasi such as this was an easy task. It’s very rare that their kind comes here, lest it be on the whim of their masters.” Your eyes widen in shock, he just picked out random pegasi for this?

“How do you know?” you contest. “They could be innocent!” You block his view. He’s much taller than you, diminishing the effect of your challenge. You only just reach up to his chest. It doesn’t scare you though. His size is the only real advantage he has. He knows what blood magic can do, even though you don’t. You hope he doesn’t call out your bluff.

“They admitted to it.” He boasts. “A bit of coercion and they were more than happy to fill me on the details of their little plan.” Your stomach plummets as he pushes you aside. “We aren’t here for a trial; we’re here for the punishment.”

“What are you going to do?” A strong magic grip wraps around your barrel, pulling you away from the line. Sombra walks along with you until you are several full paces away from them. For a moment relief spreads across the remaining ponies’ features. It quickly falls as Sombra turns back to them and begins to charge his horn. The green mist returns in force as he aims at the first in the line.

“Firstly.” Sombra declares. A deep rumble comes from the bowels of the earth. The prisoners shift nervously as the ground shakes beneath them. A few look to each other for comfort but find none in the terrified gazes of one another. It strikes quickly, like a shark. A jet black column of crystal bursts though the floor. The stallion is ripped off his hooves by the force of it and slowly forced down by gravity. He screams, loud. Your ears rings as his body slowly slides further down the long black spike. He is soon drawn silent.

His blood is smeared across the ridged surface. His face is twisted into a horrible expression of anguish and pain. Dead empty eyes stare back at you.

The musky smell of urine fills the air. One of the stallions has pissed himself, his ears droop in embarrassment. It does little to cover the metallic smell of freshly drawn blood. His comrades are occupied gawking at the slain body of their former comrade in arms. Your body locks up in fear, Sombra just executed somebody.

Sombra’s magic washes over you for an unspecified reason; before he continues on as if nothing is amiss. He sighs as he looks at the fresh corpse. “Throwing away life’s gift to attack innocent ponies. I like to think of this as karma.” He looks to the last stallion, still curled into a ball after his earlier injury. Magic wraps around him, his neck is jerked to face the grinning King. His breath is heavy and his eyes try to escape from the ghastly sight of the dead body.

“Where are your gods now? Do they truly watch over you like they say? Or do they send you to the pits of hell for their own gain?” He berates them. They struggle against the chains, trying desperately to pull them from the ground. He scowls. “Answer me!”

They remain silent.

“Very well.” You look away as another scream of agony bangs against your ear drums. Unlike before the wet sounds of ripping flesh nearly cause you to vomit. Sombra’s magic forces you to look as the second stallion in the line is killed in the same manner. “Who sent you?” He asks the third. Losing his patience he places a hoof under his chin and jerks him upwards. “I’ll ask you again. Who sent you?” He only closes his eyes and looks away.

Slice. Another scream. Bile rises and burns your throat.

Blood begins to pool around his hooves; Sombra looks back to you for a moment, seemingly searching for some kind of reaction. He doesn’t receive much for his efforts. “It’s amusing, these potentially innocent stallions, so resistant to answer my questions, but so afraid of death.” He places an emphasis on the “potentially innocent”.

“I expected better.” Without even asking a question, another is impaled. You don’t even flinch this time. Your mind is a swirl of emotions, fear, anger, disgust. You can’t focus; you can’t do anything to help. You need to get angry, that’s how you did it before.

“S-stop!” You shout as he sizes up the next stallion. Sombra freezes in place and pivots to face you. He slowly paces up to you. He gets in very close to your face; you feel his warm breath pour over your muzzle.

“What are you going to do to stop me?” His magic snakes around your body once again. It’s a thinly veiled threat, a promise of things to come should you interrupt him. His magic grabs the collar, pulling it taught against the bruises around your neck. You clench your teeth in pain. “I can kill you, within the blink of an eye.” His eyes glow again. Another spike, another body. He didn’t even ask any questions this time. The only one remaining is the injured spy.

Something in your mind snaps.

Your body trembles as a rush of anger seizes your body, more powerful than anything else you’ve felt before. Not even the stallion from yesterday felt the brunt of your true feelings. Sombra sees your silence as a victory, and turns his attention to the only other living soul in the chamber.

Rational discourse slips from your grasp as he charges up his magic once again. You scream, not in pain like them, but in pure anger. Flashes of white blind your vision, your head pounds as an intense pressure builds through your horn. All you have to do, is release it.

With another scream, the protective bubble pops. A blast of red energy erupts from your horn like a volcano. Sombra is already a step ahead. Just before the beam manages to reach him he disappears into a cloud of black smoke, which deftly curves itself around the dangerous energy. The blast completely smashes the wall, revealing the blue sky outside.

Black spots fill your vision as the headache grows worse. You struggle to stay standing as your eyes begin to close, you can’t fall asleep, not now! The smoke gathers, wrapping around his invisible body like a glove, reforming into his physical form. The strength leaves you and you fall to the ground.

“I expected better of you. At least try to hit me.” He scoffs. Two guards enter the room to survey the carnage and fight off the intruders, they’re met by the sight of a blood stained floor and six impaled corpses. “Clean this mess up.” He orders. They quickly back out to retrieve help.

Sombra kneels next to you, cupping your cheeks with both hooves. “You are not in control Rose, I am. Never forget that.” He whispers intensely. You don’t have the power to answer back.

An extra squad of guards enters and quickly set to work removing the bodies, covering them with white sheets. It doesn’t work very well, the gaping chest wounds cause blood to seep through the thin material. You close your eyes as tears slowly begin the trickle down your face.

“Take the green one to the cells. I’m not done with him yet.” You want to scream at him, shout bloody murder, but your body has shut down and isn't waking up. You black out.

Author's Note

dun dun dun

I realized how simple the storyline to this is so far, so I'm doing something to remedy it. Things are about to get a lot more complicated.

Exchanged Favours

You groan in frustration and pull a fluffy pillow over your head. You can only assume it’s the middle of the night and you can’t get to sleep. Not after what happened earlier anyway. You got your ass handed to you, and Sombra didn’t even need to touch you.

You hop out of the bed and shiver slightly, you’d much prefer to stay sandwiched between the warm sheets but there’s not much sense in wasting time when you can’t sleep. Even if you did, the images of the dead rebels still float in your mind. A nightmare would be likely.

You look around the room for something to occupy your time. Sombra hasn’t provided you with much beyond simple necessities like shampoo and food. You can’t write, at least not with your clumsy hooves and you wouldn’t place much on your telekinesis abilities either.

Maybe you can contact the survivor from the throne room somehow, and get a message out to the resistance. The problem is that you don’t know where they’re keeping him. You haven’t seen hide nor hair of a dungeon since you arrived here and you doubt one of the guards will point you to it like before.

You carefully walk to the door and place an ear against it. The corridors remain silent. Sombra sent all of the staff to their quarters again so they didn’t know about the execution. You wonder how they would react if they found out their leader killed six ponies without trial, it would undoubtedly cause some friction and insurrection between the staff and Sombra. Some might even be afraid of being the next in line.

You can’t hear anything, not even the shifting of the guards that normally guard your new room. It’s much closer to the throne room, so there should be at least some kind of patrol every night. Pushing your luck, you slowly push open the door. You stop as the beginning of a squeak emerges; don’t want to get caught out by that.

The door is open wide enough for you to peak through. You’re surprised to find that none of the guards are present. This is perfect, a little too perfect; you can easily sneak out now with impunity. With a hoof you push the door further and slip between the gap, you shut it again and check your corners. Not a single soul.

The normal crystal lighting that provided all of the artificial light during the day were now turned off, seemingly to help the staff get their internal body clocks straight, they rarely left the castle as they had their own quarters not too far away from your own. It has the unfortunate side effect of rendering you unable to see more than a few meters ahead, somebody could easily catch you off guard.

You squint, and making sure to remember the path you take, set off to the left. Your last venture into solo navigation didn’t go so well. There are no guards for directions this time. The only sound is of your hooves slowly impacting the hard floor. Hopefully nobody will be around to hear.

It’s difficult to keep track of where you’re going. The darkened hallways cast the palace in an entirely new light. It’s unfamiliar and sinister at the same time.

The clattering of metal rings out, you stop. The metal scrapes against the floor, your ears twitch madly in an attempt to locate the new sound. It’s coming from behind you. You look back in paranoia but you can’t see anything. The hallway you were just in fading into black.

Press onwards, you tell yourself, don’t let some dumb sounds get to you. Some idiot just crashed into the kitchen, that’s all. You take a deep breath to soothe your pounding heart. You never liked the dark, especially not when under the jurisdiction of somebody well versed in dark magic.

Where are all the guard patrols? You wonder. This close to Sombra’s room there should be some kind of contingent to prevent trouble. That scraping sound is back. Just ignore it Rose, it’s nothing to worry about. Dungeons are underground right? You should go downstairs.

The lobby is even more un-nerving; the chirpy mare who introduced you isn’t here to help anymore. You wonder what happened to her. The vibrant red banners still fly from the walls; the simple logo of Sombra’s empire feels like a watchful eye, looking out for troublemakers or dissidents.

You hurry down the stairs and look to the left. The banners continue down there, maybe it’s some kind of military area where the barracks are located. You scratch your collar as it tingles slightly; your nerves are acting up again. Swallow your pride and go get what you want.

You hold your head high and follow the banners. Wooden doors pass you on both sides with rusty iron handles to open them. All of them are closed. You make sure to keep an eye on them in case a guard ambushes you.

Eventually you reach the end of the repetitive corridor. A final double door lies at the very end. Its design is nearly identical to the previous doors, except with heavy iron bars crisscrossing the tough wood surface. It’s locked from the outside, an iron bar being placed across to prevent it from opening. This must be the dungeon. You have no idea how you found it so easily, lady luck must be smiling down on you today.

It takes considerable effort to push the bar up. It lets out a hair raising clang as it hits the other metal bracket. You look back to the doors behind you and breathe a sigh of relief as nobody seems to come and investigate.

You were expecting to see a winding stone staircase like something out of a bad Dracula movie. Instead they’re much smaller and only go a few meters below the floor. You make sure to pull the door shut behind you so nobody comes to look later. You carefully slink down the stairs, shivering as cold air nips at your skin.

You come into a long stone hall lit by flaming torches. There are cells to your left and right, old rusty bars that lead into cramped prisons. Each cell has a dirty blanket and a bucket inside it. No comforts down here. None of them seem to be in use, suggesting that Sombra has recently cleared this place out in his usual style. They left the last stallion alive, so he must be in here somewhere.

Thankfully the dungeon is small and you can easily walk along its length in a minute or so. You squint your eyes and look into each cell in an attempt to spot the green body of the stallion. You slowly grow more irritated as time goes on. You have to be fast before somebody notices your absence. You reach the last cell and sigh in relief. He’s always in the last place you look.

He doesn’t look like he’s doing so well. His broken foreleg is hastily wrapped in dirty white bandages. He could easily get infected. His deep green coat is filthy, covered in brown patches of dirt and deep red patches of dry blood. You didn’t get a good look at him in the throne room; you can easily see his spyglass cutie mark now. His talent must be investigating or something along those lines. His sunken eyes look out through the bars. They flick up to your face and widen for a moment.

“Hello?” You ask, knocking against the bars to catch his attention. He shakes his head and slow sits up from his position on the sullied blanket.

“What d’you want? Here to beat me again?” He challenges in a southern sounding accent, it’s completely different to how he sounded when talking to Sombra. “I’m not saying nothin’.” He makes a zipping motion with his good hoof before crossing them defiantly.

“I-I’m not here to hurt you!” You assure him. “I just want to talk.”

“Well give up; this is another of Sombra’s little games. I let my guard down and then I blab everything to you? Not gonna’ happen.” He shuts his eye and raises his snout to the ceiling. You don’t make any motion to move.

He opens an eye and looks at you, clearly annoyed at the intrusion to his time of rest. “Stubborn little one, ain’t ya?”

He relaxes his posture and stares at you. He looks on in concern for a moment. “Ah’ recognize you now. You’re Sombra’s consort.”

“Hell no!” You yell, leaping to your hooves while blushing furiously. “He’s keeping me prisoner here!” He raises an eyebrow and chuckles slightly.

“Is that so? Maybe not now. Sombra isn’t gonna’ beat around the bush, there’s probably a reason he picked out such an attractive mare.” You blush only grows worse at his teasing. A haggard laugh escapes his dry throat; he coughs and hacks, punching at his chest to calm himself down. His expression clenches in pain.

“You shouldn’t do that.” You advise. “That hurt didn’t it?”

“Of course it hurt. Why wouldn’t it?” An uncomfortable silence descends upon you both. You fidget slightly as you think of where to take the conversation next.

“Why did you come here?” You ask.

“Why? Like what?”

“Why did you come to the palace? I’ve been kept in the dark for the last week. I have no idea what’s going on outside, I haven’t even seen a damn window, Sombra got rid of them all so I couldn’t escape.” You rant. He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment.

“I came here to fight, to liberate the Crystal Empire from that monster.” He says with resolve. “That’s why we’re all here.” That much you had figure out already, but at least he’s starting to give you some answers.

“Listen. At the end of the day all I was meant to do is take down the King. Without him his entire stranglehold on this place falls apart. Not only because he’s dead, but because his magic will go away too.” His voice had become more animated for a moment, but he suddenly looks crestfallen.

“Ah’ messed it up. All those innocent ponies are under his control…” He whispers. “One day we’ll stop him, and then everypony can be free. The Empire will be back to its rightful rulers.”

“Who?” You interject at the mention of rulers.

This catches his attention. “No, I’m not saying. Not yet. I can’t trust you enough.” Your ears flatten against your head, of course he doesn’t trust you idiot.

“Maybe if you do something for me first.” He adds.

“If it helps topple Sombra I’m all ears.” He stares into your eyes searching for any sign of insincerity, when he finds none he sighs and begins again. Getting on his good side is a high priority, maybe then you’ll actually get some information about the situation in the empire.

“I’m taking a big risk by telling you this.” He mutters under his breath. “I need you to drop a message for one of my inside agents. Find a piece of paper and mark down that the spyglass has been dropped.” That must be his name you muse. “Then drop it inside the red potage box in the library, it’ll find its way to my friends.”

You nod along to his instructions and repeat the message inside your head. “Don’t bother tryin’ to expose them; we have a system in place.” He warns. “Do it right, and I’ll tell you what you wanna’ know. If I’m still here by then.” On that morbid note he lays back down. “Now get outta’ here before somebody finds us, I’d rather live for a few more hours.”

As you turn to leave you remember something important. “Do you know somepony called Silver Shield?” You ask quickly.

“Can’t say, drop that letter off first.” You grunt in aggravation and trot away. You bolt back to your room, not wishing to push your luck further for tonight. You can make some more progress tomorrow.

Spyglass watches longingly as his fellow prisoner walks away unshackled. He rolls onto his back and looks to the ceiling.

“Who the buck is Silver?”

Author's Note

how convenient.

Sorry this one took longer than usual, I need to stop watching so much Fourze.

Around the Block

You didn’t manage to get much sleep that night. You took to sitting and thinking about everything that had happened up to this point. The King, the rebels and of course the brutal execution you bore witness to. The plan Spyglass gave you is easy to do, all you need is the opportunity to get out for once.

The fire crackles gently in front of you, sending small embers of burning wood through the air. It’s relaxing, exactly what you need to calm your nerves. You’ve never sat in front of a real fire like this before as you always lived in the city, with central heating and warm clothes. A part of you misses the simpler days of lazing about and reading fan fiction, away from the civil conflict and malicious dark magicians.

Another part of you secretly enjoys it. Your inner fan boy is screaming in delight at every small interaction with another. It’s not quite what you had in mind, but it’s certainly more interesting than what you used to do on weekends, but you could do without nearly being murdered by an overzealous rebel.

The fire is starting to die down now, the wood provided being burnt down to blackened pieces of charcoal. A small pile of wood lies next to the pit. You don’t want to leave your comfortable place of the sofa though. You glare at the offending wood and will it to fly into the fire. You jump out of your fur when a red aura wraps around a log and chucks it in. So that’s how telekinesis works! This magic stuff is easy.

You don’t know where to go from here. Sombra has far too much power for you to handle, he easily evaded your clumsy attack. You managed to knock yourself out without his input. There’s no way you can take him in a direct confrontation.

Somebody knocks on the door, without waiting for permission it swings open to reveal your two personal guards. An unspoken order is given and you reluctantly trudge to them. Once again you find yourself being escorted to the throne room.

The staff has returned to their duties after a short absence. You wonder how much they know about the events of the previous day. Maybe they’d be less willing to work here if they had to clean up the large pool of blood Sombra made.

A slow trickle of scowling ponies leaving the double doors indicates that court has been adjourned for the day, some of them utter obscenities and dry teary eyes in the presence of family members. You don’t quite understand why Sombra holds court, especially when he never actually listens to the wishes of his citizens.

Some glare at you with visible disdain. The guards move in slightly, ensuring that the majority of your body was out of view. You feel nervous, what kind of rumors could they be spreading about you? Having a guard escort couldn’t be good for your public image. You spy Sombra at the very end of the room; he pushes away a pesky advisor and quickly descends the stairs. The other ponies scatter as the King approaches not wishing to draw his ire.

The guards follow the crowd to make sure they leave the castle in an orderly manner, leaving you stood next to the man you tried to kill just hours earlier. A million ex-girlfriends can’t match up to how awkward you feel right now. Thankfully Sombra doesn’t comment. You follow him down another set of winding corridors. You hope he doesn’t know about last night’s escapade.

“Today, we are going for a walk. I hope this won’t be too much for you to handle?” He asks with a light touch of teasing, uncharacteristic of him, you think.

Sombra’s personality is bipolar in your eyes. He swings from post to post. With others he seems on edge, ready to burst out into violence or cruelty, but you can readily attack him when given the opportunity only for him to start cracking jokes at you the next day. He doesn’t want to kill you, for obvious reasons, but he also doesn’t seem to like you.

Maybe the cruel tyrant angle only comes out when he needs to put the boot down, the execution of the rebels being one of those moments. Or maybe he’s just insane and screwing with you again. You haven’t been around him enough to reach a final judgment, but you really don’t want to. It seems today you have no choice.

The guards and staff clear a path through the hallways. Sombra quickly begins to descend into the lobby you entered upon your arrival. “I’ve decided to give you a little treat, we’re going outside.” He declares as a pair of guards hold open the modest wooden doors to give you your first real glimpse of the outside world. You smile, finally! He must trust you enough to let you out now.

It’s truly a sight to behold. A long crystal road stretches off into the horizon, flanked by rows and rows of crystal buildings. The freeform nature of the crystals gives the city an organic look. Rough window frames and doorways, and other little pieces of architecture are carved from the tough material; the ponies are like a colony of ants.

“Let us go.” He orders briskly before trotting out into the center.

You must have only inhabited the second floor. A large circular courtyard takes up the large space, a precariously places crystal ceiling hanging above. Ponies trot to and fro in the intersection, talking with friends. A small group of foals play tag much to the displeasure of their talking parents.

The streets are constructed from all sides, branching off into smaller ones like a large snowflake. The familiar sound of the market faire you heard in the garden reach your twitching ears. A rush of new sounds and sights distract you from the grim reality of your situation. You can’t begin to imagine how Sombra managed to get things this way. The uninformed could easily misconstrue that the empire is ruled by Cadence.

Sombra nudges you. You drag your attention away from the vibrant city and follow behind him. His stature catches the attention of several crystal ponies, who begin to face him and bow. He ignores them and continues onwards. As you walk away from them you can’t help but hear the whispers and gasps of shock, what’s with them?

The blue sky is a nice change from the murky palace. It’s the first real sunlight you’ve had in nearly a week aside from your breath trip to the palace garden, which didn’t end on the best terms. The hustle and bustle of the city is also a welcome change. The palace was nearly always un-naturally silent. You went out of your way to make noise when you are on your own, or listen in on the conversations that pass by your door. They never say anything interesting though.

Sombra doesn’t pay anybody much mind as he confidently struts through the streets. You’d think he’d have a contingent of guards to escort him, but given the show of power yesterday you doubt he would need them. The streets are aesthetically similar, with shiny crystal paving and shiny crystal houses, filled with shiny crystal ponies.

Beyond the superficial appearance and behavior of the citizens surrounding you, you can’t help but notice the little things. Like how dirty certain parts of the roads are, piles of trash on some corners indicating a lack of proper services and the overriding sense that everything isn’t quite right. The ponies look healthy enough, but they have hollow smiles and nervous dispositions. Even when you’re far away from the center they continue to grovel and bow as you pass by.

Eventually the houses begin to get smaller and smaller. You must be headed to a less affluent area of the empire. Here the ponies aren’t quite as eager to bow, even yelling a few choice curses his way. “Son of a whore!” One brave stallion shouts from a group. Sombra’s face twitches slightly, but his usual stoicism remains firmly in place.

"They don’t know what’s good for them.” He mutters. “Pay attention Rose.” He snaps as you approach another large plaza. Unlike the palace plaza this one is much livelier as a small market has been set up. Makeshift huts and stands form a large maze which you could easily get lost in. Ponies hustle from shop to shop, haggling with the owners and sizing up different items.

There’s a large variety, from your position outside you can already see various food items, different styles of clothing and even toy shops selling second hand toys to foals and parents alike. “Welcome to the Crystal market.” Sombra declares. You look to him in confusion, why did he bring you here? “I’ve decided that we need to reach some kind of understanding. We do work in close quarters to one another after all.”

“Thief!” A female voice shouts from within the crowd.

A scrappy looking colt sprints from the crowd, carrying a dirty bundle. A pair of guards burst out after him, chasing him down. He looks back in panic and attempts to ditch his load in a nearby garbage pile, but in his distracted state they easily manage to tackle and restrain him. He thrashes and flails, but the strong guards have in locked down.

“It’ll be the pits for you kid.” One of them warns, pulling him to his hooves. “Don’t push your luck scum.” Several ponies gather around and watch the scuffle. The other backs away and retrieves the package from the pile before trotting back to the market; you assume he’s returning it. He comes back empty hooved and helps drag him away.

“I can’t abide by thievery.” Sombra comments. “I believe in the rule of law, a strong hoof to keep things in shape.” You don’t respond.

“I see your skepticism.”

You shake your head. “I can see what’s in front of me; some of them aren’t too fond of you.”

“Of course they aren’t. Zealots tend to hate what they don’t understand. We can’t have anypony messing with the status quo now can we?”

He scoffs. “I just wanted to show you what I work for so that you might think of me as something more than a heartless murderer.”

“What do you work for?” You ask.

“My people, the crystal ponies. We have a lot more in common than they might think. One day, maybe they will bow to me in respect rather than fear.” He sighs and chuckles. “But until then, I give them the performance they expect of me.”

“I’m not convinced.” You jab. He turns and walks away; you look back to the market for a moment before trotting to catch up with him.

“Very well. We’ll just have to visit somewhere else.”

You walk for another ten minutes, eventually coming to the very outskirts of the city. The crystal paving gives way to poorly maintained dirt roads. Several farms stretch across the green pastures. You wonder what they grow here, from the looks of things some kind of berry as rows of bushes take up much of the space.

You didn’t notice it back in the city, but it’s very clear that the sky is curved in a dome like shape, almost as if it’s been painted on. As you get closer and closer, you can see that there isn’t a horizon, just a solid line where the ground ends and the sky begins. Your head begins to hurt slightly from the optical trick, it looked so real from the middle.

Sombra comes to a stop at the blue wall. You can tell now that it circumnavigates the entire city, cutting away the ground that should be there. “Do you ever wonder what lurks beyond this city?” Sombra begins. He pokes at the wall with a hoof, causing it to ripple like water. “I know all too well. Not just the cold tundra of the north, but the strong creatures that this environment breeds. They come for us, smash against our walls and consume us.”

His horn begins to glow. His aura slowly begins to spread across the sky in front of you, opening a transparent window to what lies outside. Violent gusts of snow hammer the illusionary wall; it’s so intense that you can’t see anything.

“The snow blinds us. The monsters come for us. The strong try to protect us.” He chants.

“Animals?” You deadpan.

“Who said anything about animals?” He scowls, shutting the window, the blue sky taking its place. He grows visibly frustrated. “The greedy attempt to doom us. Such is the nature of the sun and the moon.”

He must be talking about Celestia and Luna! “Come, we have much more to see.” He ushers you away from the sky and back towards the road. You think back on his words. For an opportunity to meet those monsters, you’d give anything.

Sombra might think he’s winning you over with his practiced speeches and semi-happy citizens, but you aren’t biting. He’s unwittingly showed off his biggest weakness. He keeps all of his people under using fear, without it, he’s finished. You need to go have another talk with Spyglass.

As you approach the city once again, you decide to bite the bullet. “I was wondering, why am I being kept in my room all day?”

“I don’t want you to get involved with any of those dangerous rebels.” He responds curtly. “I accept that most of the threat has been nullified, yet I don’t feel safe having my guest wander to where she could so easily get hurt.”

“Well, sitting in my room all day is incredibly boring. Can I please be given a bit of space to walk around the palace again?” That’s right Rose, suck up to him. He stops for a moment to consider your request.

He concedes. “One of the two outside your door shall escort you.” Damn! It’s not perfect, finding space to write that message is going to be harder than you thought.

“Good.” You respond with a fake smile. “I look forward to it.”

The rest of the tour is uneventful at best. You can tell Sombra is avoiding certain areas of the city by his winding route through the streets. The crime problem must be much worse than you first thought; Ponies driven into crime and poverty, for a reason that you can’t see with the naked eye. Either Sombra was telling the truth about the rebellion, or he’s lying to cover up his mistakes.

Thankfully the tour comes to an end an hour later. Sombra escapes back into his throne room while one of your guards is ordered to escort you. He doesn’t talk much; you stand there awkwardly for a few moments. “I’d like to visit the library.” He just nods. You wonder if he’s going to say anything but he turns on the spot and begins to walk away. He must be taking you there, how nice of him. You can’t really remember where the library is anyway.

You come to the familiar double doors and walk in behind the stallion. The library is just as deserted as last time; however a friendly face shines from behind the reception desk. It’s the mare who greeted you when you first arrived. She’s still wearing the same little red bow-tie from the first day, although her hair is noticeably styled in a new manner. It’s much shorter now and cuts off in a bob.

The guard flinches slightly as she runs towards you. “Hi!” She greets enthusiastically. “Long time no see!” His muscles tense as the mare brings you into a surprising hug. This is the first real contact with another pony since you got here. You lift a hoof and return the hug gently. No matter how brainwashed she may be its good to have somepony without a vested interest in you beyond being friends.

You remember her acting differently though, maybe she was tired and not brainwashed? She did have some serious eye bags after all. You glance to her left and spot a red post box perched upon the wooden desk, right, you should get this out of the way.

The guard deflates slightly as the hug continues. You tap her back a few times and she hops back, blushing slightly. “Whoops. Sorry, I like hugs.” You chuckle as she rubs the back of her head sheepishly. The guard rolls his eyes and walks away to the sitting area. Not exactly the most responsible thing to do when guarding the King’s personal guest.

You need to get that note written before he notices you though. You turn to the blushing guide. “Do you have a pen and paper I can use?” She perks up and trots back behind the desk, emerging with a quill and paper. You look back to see the guard nose deep in a magazine, a prominent photo of a mare in some rather raunchy clothes featuring on the page. Typical.

“What do you want the paper for?” She asks innocently. You pull them to you and grasp the quill in a shaky telekinetic field. It wobbles slightly due to your inexperience but it’s stable enough to write what you want. You really don’t want to answer her, but it’s an equal risk to not. Either way she can go running to the guards about it, something you’d rather not have happen. She pushes a small pot of black ink into your reach.

“A message for a friend. He wanted to know how things are going over here.” You dip the quill into the ink and write out that the spyglass has been dropped in small letters.

“That’s a short message.” She comments. Shit! You need to add something more. In the paltry space above the vital code phrase you quickly scribble a made up story. It’s difficult to fit the phrase into something that could be considered non-suspicious, but you do your best.

“He was never one for heavy reading.” You bullshit. Her face remains neutral before breaking into a small smile.

“He sounds nice.” She strokes an idle hoof through her white mane. “It’s always nice to have somepony to talk to.” It trails down to tug on her collar and tie. A look of unease flashes on her face, the implication isn’t lost on you.

“If you ever want to talk, come by my room. I’d be happy to have the company.” You finish off your message with a flourish of ink. She breaks into a genuine grin. You quietly slip the letter into the red box.

“I’d like that.”

Contrast

With a cheery goodbye you leave the mare, who you now realize never gave her name, and head back to your room. There isn’t nearly enough to do to fill your day in with. A small part of you secretly hopes that Sombra would take you somewhere interesting for a few hours. It turns out to be wishful thinking, as once again you receive the cold shoulder for the day. Slipping away that secret message was quite exciting at least, and you managed to make a new friend in the process!

You have plans for tonight, assuming the castle is just as deserted as before. It’s time to get some answers from the spy. You peak your snout out of the door and once again find the corridors empty. Sombra must have some kind of defense system in place; he can’t just leave the castle unguarded at night.

This time you take much less time running to the cells. You’re eager to find out the reasons behind the un-rest and hopefully join forces with the rebels. He’s still lying in the same spot as before; he slowly turns around onto his stomach and smiles slightly as he sees you.

“What do we have here?” He whispers.

“I dropped of your message. I want answers.” You ask, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore.

“I know.” He chuckles, slowly rising to a sitting position. ”Alright, you proved yourself. I’ll tell you everything you wanna’ know, barring some confidential stuff. To answer your question from yesterday, we’re being sent here by the Princesses.” You aren’t really surprised at the revelation after Sombra hinted at it yesterday.

“Why?”

“To assassinate Sombra of course. That guy’s madder than a bag of rattle snakes, a monster like him needs to be put down so somepony else, who actually cares, can be put in his place.” He sighs wistfully. “I remember when they came up to me and proposed this little mission. I was over the moon, a mission from the Princesses? How could I refuse?”

“I don’t think killing him is the best way to do it.” You mention. “The empire could easily descend into chaos with rival factions vying for control.” Something they don’t seem to realize.

“I think everypony here is unified in the belief that getting’ rid of Sombra is for the best. Equestria gives the rebels weapons and equipment, in return for the promise that the empire comes under the flag afterwards.” It’s reasonable to think, but he’s seriously naive to think that everything’s going to be roses after the one pony holding the place together is violently removed.

You can tell you aren’t going to get much else out of him. It’s a shame he hasn’t told you much that you didn’t already figure out for yourself. He looks to you for a moment, his eyes scanning your horn and collar. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure.”

“How’d you get stuck in here anyway?”

You laugh bitterly and stare off into the darkness. “Sombra… kidnapped me. He’s holding me prisoner here.”

“You aren’t in a cell though.” He points out. “You managed to get down here well enough.”

“That’s not the point; everything I do is under the watchful eye of his hoof picked guards. I get locked in my room for hours on end without anything to occupy myself with. I’m not going to act thankful to him because he didn’t throw me in one of these cells.” You rant. You poke at the collar wrapped around your neck. “See this? It’s his bucking proof of ownership.”

The stallion nods along. “Anybody else’d say you’re a consort.” You balk at the idea of becoming intimate with Sombra. “Maybe not, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You don’t know how he can tell with your white fur, but you ignore the comment for the moment.

“Over my dead body.” The stallion goes quiet, the only sound being the dripping of water echoing through the stone hall.

“What’s your name?” He asks. “I’m Spyglass.” Of course, you should have known. It’s fairly obvious with his cutie mark and secret message. You open your mouth to speak, but find yourself tongue tied as you attempt to remember your name. “Somethin’ wrong?” Spyglass asks in concern. He must see the distress on your face; he took your name, the last vestige of your old life, wiped away like an insignificant stain.

You try to think back to your old life and all of the times your name was said out loud, but you come up blank. All of your memories are faded and hold some unfamiliarity. All of that time spent with your family is difficult to fully remember. Their faces fade away into unrecognizable blurs. You can’t even remember their voices! Think Rose, what did they call you?

Rose? You called yourself Rose. Of course you did, Sombra couldn’t just change your body, he had to jumble up your memories too!
“R-Rose.” You mumble. “My name is Rose.” Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you look to the floor crestfallen.

“Woah there! Don’t go wailin’ on me little lady! What’s up?”

“He took it…” You sniff.

“Took what?”

“He took my name damn it! He took my fucking name!” You scream slamming a hoof against the stone floor. Pins and needles begin to encompass your body as anger swells up inside you. You catch yourself, no need to get angry. It isn’t his fault.

Spyglass looks at the door with paranoia. “Keep it down!” He whispers. “Ah’ don’t wanna’ get killed in here.” You take a few deep breaths and wipe the crust away from your eyes. “Listen, I ain’t gonna’ pretend I understand your situation, I'm sorry for that, but I don’t see much good that I can do about it.”

Tears still manage to escape and drip onto the floor. What a sight you must be right now, crying your eyes out in front of another pony. “S-sorry.” You stutter. “I’ve been having a bad time.” The stallion raises a shackled foreleg and rattles the chain if only to make you feel worse. He seems to notice your dropping ears and quickly drops the limb again.

He bites his lip for a moment before shaking his head; there isn’t much he can do. “Sorry.” He mirrors. “I’m kinda’ frustrated too. Maybe we should talk about something else to lighten the mood?”

You nod and wipe away the tears with a fetlock. The fur is good for absorbing moisture; it’s probably bad for swimming though. “How about you tell me about yourself? I-I can’t really contribute much.” You admit.

“A bit maybe. I was raised in a lively little town called Appleloosa with my folks and a younger sister. I never really liked the placed tough, too much dust for my liking. I was always good at finding things, so much that its mah’ special talent, so ah’ got a job offer from the fancy folks in Canterlot. Mamma was so happy for me! I was excited too; heh, it’s every colts dream to join the royal guard.” His eyes became glossy for a moment as he reminisced about his childhood. His expression soon turned sour as he left the stupor. “Your turn, don’t have to tell me everything. How about something recent?”

You think back to your first impressions of Sombra, seems like a good tale to regale and it leaves out the whole alien creature thing. “How about the first time I met Sombra?” He perks up slightly in a clear sign of interest.

You clear your throat of the mucus that had built up from your emotional outburst. “Well, when I first got pulled here by… his guards, they just threw me into one of the guest rooms and locked me in there.”

“They didn’t hurt you did they?” He asks suddenly. You blush slightly and shake your head. He smiles and lies back on the dirty blanket. Weird.

“Anyway, I snuck out of the room afterwards to find that all the corridors were empty. I found my way down to the lobby where a mare was waiting for me. She escorted me to the throne room to meet him. He made a show of it, making me walk up to the throne and everything.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Not really, he just sent me back to my room after gloating for a while. I wasn’t expecting him to, why would he tell me everything right away? That’s how he works.” You reason. “I’ve barely interacted with him really.”

He looks incredulous for a moment but averts his gaze from your own. “Interesting.”

“Your turn.” He sighs again and continues from where he left off.

“My family is the traditional sort. They raised me right, taught me everything I’d need to know in the real world. Religious to a tee.” You quirk an eyebrow, religious? You didn’t know they had religion in Equestria.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He scoffs. “It’s mighty old fashioned ah’ know, but it’s just how we did things in Appleloosa, lots o’ like-minded folks out there. My parents swore down on being Celestites.”

Celestia has a religion surrounding her? It’s not hard to think why, considering she’s a living goddess and all, but there was never indication in the show to something like this. But you aren’t in the show, you remind yourself and things are very different here.
“Yep, we’d head down to the community center every day along with our family friends. It was actually quite fun, getting’ to play with all the other kids.”

With your interest piqued you ask “What kind of practices did you have?”

“Nothin’ fancy, just follow the six elements of harmony. Be honest to others, be loyal to those close, be generous to the needy, be kind to the misunderstood, don’t be afraid to make others laugh and finally, understand the magic that flows through you.” He finishes with a beaming smile. An interesting note is that the elements of harmony appear to play a larger role than villain squashing super weapon.

“Ma’ would hammer that into me every night before bed. I… can’t really say they’re easy to follow, especially in the royal guard, sometimes they want me to do things that my family’d disown me for. I try, in the eyes of Celestia that’s all that matters.”

“What about Luna?”

“Oh! We didn’t much pay her much mind. That’s more of a Thestral kinda’ thing, you won’t find many Lunates in the west. I’ll tell you, they were dancin’ in the streets when she returned. There ain’t much difference between the two anyhow, Lunates fellow the same tenets we do.”

You suddenly catch on that you’ve been talking for quite a while now, and it’s about time you left before the guards catch you. “I’ve got to go; don’t want to risk getting caught down here.” He looks saddened at your sudden departure. “I’ll be back.” You promise.

You sit in silence as Sombra carefully lifts the fork into his maw. For whatever reason today he has decided to bring you down to his breakfast routine, meaning you have to sit and watch him eat a plate of food in comically slow fashion.

Little has been said between the two of you, between the “courteous” initial greeting and your tired grunt in response. You were up late last night after all and sitting here isn’t helping to dispel the sleepiness that still plagues your body.

The steaming cabbage is carefully inspected from all sides as the fork glows with his magic aura. He blows it slightly, with pursed lips he is finally satisfied and places it on his tongue, and then he chews. The entire process takes far too long for your liking; every movement is exaggerated and carefully choreographed. He must squeeze some form of enjoyment from your irritation, as the angrier you look the slower he goes.

He fork clatters to the table as a napkin is wiped across his lips. He flashes you a grin as your eye twitches. “I’m impressed.” He compliments as the napkin is discarded into a nearby waste bin. “You managed to hold your tongue.”

Of course he’d do it on purpose. Sombra is slowly becoming more infantile by the day. Hopefully he’ll be unable to walk soon so you can escape. You roll your eyes and tap a hoof against the table. Your face tenses as you fight back a yawn.

He rises from his seat and wordlessly heads to the door. You sigh and drag yourself away from the comfy pillow, another day of him being an amateur tour guide is better than nothing you suppose. The guards stand to attention as he passes, but remain there until you pass too; they obviously believe that you hold some kind of authority to be around him so often.

He leads you down a series of nondescript corridors, leading you to a large archway. It’s much like the one that headed into the garden platform, but the area is markedly different. The ground is compacted and dirty, and there are no forms of plant life in the area. Wooden racks holding spears and short swords circle a dirty ring designed for guard training. Just across from it there’s a shooting range. Straw pony dummies are placed at different distances from a set of wooden blocks. A small pile of short-bows and arrows are provided at each station.

“Why are we here?” You ask, but it falls upon deaf ears as Sombra strides on without a glance. The courtyard is empty of any other guards or personnel, meaning it’s just him and you once again. The dirty ground sends up clouds of dust as your hooves impact it. You cough into your hoof as Sombra leads you to the shooting range.

He motions to the furthest station to the left. Not wanting to argue you quickly take up position and train your eyes on the battered dummy that lies a few meters away. “I do realize that we haven’t afforded ourselves much time together.” Sombra laments looking down the range. “I suppose I have a responsibility as your host, to teach you things that you wouldn’t learn at that backwater place you call home. The incident earlier is an all too grim reminder of such.”

He sweeps up next to you, his fur brushing against your own slightly. Your body tenses in a natural reaction to the contact. He glances at you and smirks again. “Today, I shall teach you how to control your power.”

Your eyes widen in shock. He’s going to teach you magic after what you did? “I can’t have you being placed in jeopardy again, and while my advisors say that teaching you the art of battle will only make matters worse, I beg to disagree. What is somepony who cannot act for themselves? Such dependency I discourage, not just among my guards.”

He backs off slightly, but still stays close enough to keep you on edge. “We’re going to begin with something even foals can do without trouble. If you prove yourself capable we will move onto something more substantial. The most basic form of magic offense is simply unleashing a blast of concentrated magical energy at a target. Any proficient mage can easily block it, and any decent soldier can dodge just the same. I want you to blast the target.”

He’s not a very good teacher you think to yourself bitterly otherwise he’d be telling you how to do it. You shake the cobwebs away and step up to the block. The dummy sways slightly in the breeze. You take a deep breath and relax your muscles. Everything fades into the foreground as you focus on the target.

A feeling begins to well up inside your chest, nowhere near as powerful as it felt in the throne rooms, but it’s definitely there. It’s like flexing an invisible muscle, as you find that the energy is easy to move within the confines of your own body. You need to draw that power into your horn, aim and release it.

You take in a breath as you begin the movement. It sends goose bumps across your fur hidden skin and causes you to shake slightly. You clench your teeth and keep your eyes on the prize. The energy sends a warm feeling across its location but leaves the rest of your body cold. Pin pricks erupt across your face and it begins to gather in your horn, just a bit more!

A red glow is pulsing across the field and Sombra takes a hesitant step back, much to your surprise. With a yell you let it go. It bursts out of your horn as a red blast rocks across the field and engulfs the dummy. You see stars for a moment as you suddenly feel extremely weak. You stumble from side to side as your blurred vision slowly comes back into focus.

Where the dummy once stood is now… non-existent. A huge black scar runs across the charred ground, and stand where the dummy once stood has been completely annihilated, with the body of the dummy itself missing entirely. The back crystal wall that had once been unscathed now has a prolific crater left on its surface, a web of cracks emanating from the epicenter.

Sombra looks shocked by the level of destruction your simple spell caused. His gaping jaw slowly shuts itself as he clenches it repeatedly. “Well… that was certainly impressive.” He admits. He mumbles something under his breath as he approaches you again; you’re too out of it to notice. The level of power you hold has only just dawned on you, and now the scary implications of having so much power have come crashing down on you full force.

It was only a small niggling voice when you killed the stallion, it was a murmur when you blasted the King, but now it’s a full blown scream begging for you to get a hold of yourself. “Are you okay?” Sombra asks, placing a hoof on your shoulder. He shakes you for a second before you snap out of your daze.

“D-did I do that?” You whimper still shaken from the experience.

“Very much so.” He answers. “Something more advanced may be up your alley, as they say.” He pulls you aside into the next lane. The dummy is further away this time. “A powerful attack such as that may be impressive, but it is also destructive. You need to learn how to control yourself. Don’t release it all at once, limit it. Not only does this allow you to change the power of your blast, but how focused it is. Imagine that your horn is a tap that it connected to your body, you control how much water escapes. Imagine closing an imaginary hole at the tip.”

You don’t know if you have the strength to try again, but you nod anyway and spread your stance slightly. Just like before you begin to focus on the target. The energy inside you is much smaller than before due to your previous release. Just like before you take in a deep breath and push it into your sharp horn. You release it, but this time you force the connection to the outside world to shrink. As a result the beam is much more focused. Unbeknownst to you it also made it more dangerous, and the small amount of energy put in becomes significantly more powerful. The now narrow beam flies to the target, cutting through its mid-section like butter.

You quickly run out and stop, sweaty with exertion. You look to the target but see no visible damage. “Did it do anything?” You exclaim. Sombra watches the dummy with a tempered eye, which twitches slightly as the pony’s upper body slides away and onto the ground.

You just cut it in half, with such precision that it didn’t even fall away until the breeze rolled through.

“Very well done.” Sombra spits out as if it were physically painful. He looks to you for a moment before settling back on the damage caused by your short training session. “I do suppose magic comes naturally to those with a deep connection; as a result I overestimated how much time we would need to get to this point.”

He sighs and rubs a hoof down his muzzle. “You are dismissed for the day. I shall come gather you again tomorrow after you have recovered.” With that he swivels around and trots away, leaving you in the dust.

Sombra nearly shatters the door behind him as he stomps back into his personal bedchambers. An aging pony, startled by his entry quickly throws himself to the ground from his lounging position of the sofa and bows. “Get up.” Sombra growls impatiently.

“O-of course sir!” He grovels, straightening out his black and purple robes. The red stallion watches as his King pours himself a drink, downing it in record time. “How did the training go milord?”

“Fantastic.” He mutters, placing the glass gently down on the table. “Too well, I’d say. She has the practiced grace of a magician three times her age.”

“A natural?” The mage asks, sticking down his white hair.

“Beyond that. She nearly destroyed the entire training field, without my assistance unlike the last occasion.”

“Would you say the collar will soon be unnecessary?” The stallion watches attentively as his liege rose from his place and walks to his bed.

“No. Keep it on; she does not yet know her place in my palace. Until she does it stays.” The King orders, lying down on his lavish quilt.

“I should warn you. Even now it could have devastating consequences in the long term. Toying with a pony’s emotions isn’t something practiced in these days for good reason.” He berates shaking his head. “I have seen it with my own eyes you know.”

“Yet it has not befallen her. You give her too little credit; she is strong of will and constitution unlike any of your test subjects. This one shall be a success, I assure you. Now leave me be, I have work to do later and wish to relax.”

The other stallion gives one final bow. “Of course brother. You always know best.” He shuts the door with a click, leaving the King in darkness.

Author's Note

dun dun dun wow this chapter took too long for me to write and im really sorry

I figured I ought to give some more development to Spyglass beyond his actions in regards to the rebellion. Just now I realize he's kind of a stereotype, but he acts as an effective vessel to establish the role of the royal sisters in the conflict. The conversation might be a bit rushed, but then again they are trying to avoid getting collared by the guards. It's a tricky decision whether or not to include the religious angle as a part in the story, maybe, but it's there in case I want to use it. He'll be sticking around as the metaphorical voice of the rebellion.

Sombra also has motivation, in case I didn't make it clear already.

More foreshadowing for the foreshadowing god!

Pony of Interest

You groan and shove your face back into the fluffy pillow as a loud set of knocks impact on the door. Despite lacking any kind of time piece, you know that it’s way too early to be getting up. The training took a lot out of you and you slept like a stone as a result. It can’t be Sombra coming back for more practice, as he has court in the morning, although he can cancel it at any moment.

With little grace you drag yourself from the bed and drearily approach the door. You peer through the crack to see a grinning face; it’s the mare from the library. You widen the gap and poke your head through. “Ah! Hello!” She greets happily. “Mind if I come in?”

She takes your initial silence for consent and pulls the door open to walk through. “Not all there in the morning?” She teases, plopping down on the sofa. You sigh and gently close the door behind her. You wander over and sit down next to her. “Oh don’t be so sour about it; I wasn’t much of a morning pony either before I started working here.”

You blink the sleep away from your eyes and straighten yourself out. “Sorry, it’s just that yesterday took a lot out of me.”

“Oh I understand. Its hard work here in the palace.” She adjusts her little red tie for a moment before looking around your room in curiosity. “Your quarters are very nice.” She muses. She hops away and takes a close look at the carvings on the fireplace. She seems drawn to an image of a fierce dragon, its fire blazing across the scorched ground.

“Something to be thankful for.” You mutter out of earshot. She quickly moves on to the rug, tracing a hoof across the circular patterns.

“I never did like the architecture in this place. It feels… cold and impersonal. I used to work in a cozy little inn downtown, but I couldn’t possibly ignore a job offer from the King.”

“That tends to happen when you make it out of crystal.” You joke. She giggles for a moment before returning to her spot. You sheepishly rub a hoof against the arm rest. “You know, I never got your name.” You admit.

She looks shocked for a moment. “How could I forget that? Rule one of hospitality is to introduce yourself, and it completely slipped my mind!”

“It’s okay.” You assure the slightly frazzled looking mare laying a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m R-Rose.” The name rolls of your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it’ll have to do for now.

“I’m Warm Welcome.” She smiles and grasps your hoof, giving it a firm shake which you return in earnest. She deflates slightly and lapses into silence. You shift slightly on the sofa, the leathery material sticking out more and more as time goes on. You’re just distracting yourself again, say something.

“So… do you work in the library?”

She nods. “I work in all sorts of places, as long as I’m needed. In the kitchen, in the library, sometimes I even get to help out in the barracks, the library is my favorite, because I get to spend most of my time reading. The guards don't place much faith into book smarts, and nopony else really has the time."

“What do you read about?” You ask with piqued interest.

“Lots of different things.” She smiles. “But if I had to pick my best subject, it’d be the paranormal.”

“Ghosts and stuff?”

“It’s much more than just ghosts. Things like spirit realms, and manifestations in the real world. I find it enthralling. I’ve read nearly every book in the section.” She stops for a moment to put her feelings into words. “I like it, because it helps me understand how life works, if that makes any sense. I always get the feeling like there’s so much that I’m missing, a big picture that I can’t understand because I don’t know any better.”

“Deep.” You comment simply, unable to formulate a constructive response. “So, are ghosts a real thing or…”

“Of course they are!” She protests as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Although it’s very rare, only the most powerful of unicorns can manifest themselves after death. It’s even rarer for them to be able to influence the outside world.” So the magic must allow them to bring themselves back. You contemplate it for a moment before she coughs into a hoof to draw your attention.

“So, how have you been?”

“I could be better. Sombra’s still taking a personal interest in me, now he’s even taking me out for magic training.”

“Wow really?” Warm asks with starry eyes. “That must feel great, being taught by such a skilled magician. I bet he’s planning on introducing you to the guild.”

“Guild?” You mirror in bewilderment. Warm looks like you’ve just killed her dog.

“You don’t know who the guild is either? It’s the group of mages who help keep the Empire safe. They help maintain the shield alongside the King.”

“Hey! I’m new here.” You huff, puffing out your cheeks. She giggles at you for a moment before taking a breath to calm down.

“Actually it isn’t common knowledge outside of the Empire, so don’t feel so out of the loop.” She stares at the dirty fireplace for a moment before gasping. “Oh dear, I think it’s about time I tended to my duties.”

“How can you tell? There isn’t a clock in here.”

“Internal timekeeping, important skill for ponies who work in service.” She taps her forehead twice. “I’ll see you later; it’s nice to talk to somepony for once.” With that she hurriedly slips between the doors, leaving you in solitude once again.

She was right, having company was nice.

Much to your irritation Sombra was once again seated in the dining room, the simple process of getting some breakfast becoming a tad more complicated because of it. You don’t know exactly why you still feel so anxious around him at a glance, whenever you spend a bit more time together it manages to dispel itself in due time. A natural reaction to being around him perhaps, his actions so far give him the disposition of an oppressive manipulator trying to hold back a rabid dog.

His eyes meet yours sending goose bumps across your skin. You hate that feeling so much! He smiles a toothy grin and pulls out a chair next to him, the unsaid command causing your posture to droop in defeat. You swallow the lump in your throat and sit down briskly while avoiding any more eye contact.

The waiter comes along and takes your order of toast and jam. You know Sombra still has a beady eye on you. “Did you have a nice night?” He asks, looking at his reflection through a floating spoon.

“Nothing other than the usual.” You respond with as little emotion as possible.

The cutlery clatters back onto the table, making you jump, it continue to ring out for a second before a baritone chuckle escapes his chest. “Nervous? I expected you to be more welcoming to my presence by now.” He tuts. “I suggest you find a way to calm yourself, we will be spending much more time together from now on in light of your magical talents.”

A plate is slid in front of you, with a large piece of jam covered toast.

You grumble in discontent before his magic roughly grips your cheeks and forces you to face him. He damn nearly snapped your neck. “Do not take this opportunity for granted, I shall only present it to you once. I have much crueler ways to deal with those who defy my orders.” The magic fades and you snap your head back to its original position.

The corners of your mouth twitch as a dull ache torments you; you contort your mouth to take a bite out of your breakfast. You wouldn’t be surprised if that bruised you. Anger blossoms in your chest, but the dark glow of Sombra’s magic seemingly quells the tide. He smirks, probably thinking you haven’t put two and two together already.

“I do know what you’re doing.” You hiss. “This collar is to help control me isn’t it?” His face falls for a moment.

“To an extent.” His stoic demeanor pushes you right back on edge. “The real question you must ask is what you’re going to do about it.” His thinly veiled threat is book ended by another ominous laugh. Sombra is really hamming it up today. At the moment you want nothing more than for him to choke to death on his morning salad. He knocks his chest a few times and coughs as he winds down.

Unlike previously, where your mark of death had promptly resulted in the expiration of the stallion assaulting, now it only stands to make you feel bad about yourself. You really shouldn’t be wishing death upon anypony, no matter what they’re doing. A small part of your mind points out his emotional manipulation has stretched from your first day here, indicating some role in your sudden shortened temper.

A more rational part points out that, indeed he does, however his presence is required for him to do so as indicated by the use of his magic. Removing yourself from his sight seems to be the only effective way to stop him. One of your first priorities should be to find a way to remove the collar and get your free will back. Sombra looks expectant towards your answer.

“Nothing.” You admit. To your surprise he actually looks disappointed by your admission of defeat. “Not what you were hoping?” You tout with conceit.

“Not exactly, no. What happened to the resistant little rebel that I brought here weeks ago?”

“She’s ruining your fun.” You snark.

He sighs and closes his eyes. “Very well. As you are here already I propose we continue from where we left off yesterday.” His plate is quickly levitated away by an unseen waiter and placed onto the catering cart. You look down at your half eaten toast and shove the rest into your maw, chewing and swallowing before Sombra can ask what the delay is. The plate is lifted away by a slightly disgusted looking crystal pony. He and the unicorn hastily shuffle the cart back into the kitchen.

“Eloquent as always.” Sombra snidely remarks. “Perhaps these lessons should extend to common courtesy and manners too.” He winces as you let out a very un-ladylike belch. Good luck with that one.

He leads you back to the same yard from yesterday. A group of guards file out from the archway as they notice the King approaching. One stops behind and whispers into the king’s ear. “It’s ready behind the-“ You don’t catch the rest of it as the stallions laugh boisterously at a rude joke, nudging and heckling along the way. Sombra dismisses the last guard, who scampers off after them.

He guides you back to the shooting range. The dummies have been replaced, however the wall behind them still shows the telltale cracks. It’s incredible how much damage you caused, and you aren’t even trained yet. Sombra floats a pitcher full to the top with water into view and places it at the foot of the target.

“Today, we’re going to learn how to affect the properties of objects. Take this pitcher of water for example; I want you to boil the water inside. This shall teach you control, and the basics of temperature altercation.

“This should be simple enough, even for you.” He jabs. “Remember what we did yesterday and push your will, not onto the pitcher, but the water inside. You must connect yourself to the target, realize your intent and use your magical power to make it happen.”

Once again his advice proves to be vague and useless. You focus on the surface of the glistening water. “I want you to boil that water.” Sombra challenges. So how do you do this again? Focus on the water, you need to boil it. Heat, think of heat. Something that makes you really warm. Summer, the warm sun beating down on you, the feeling of a strong pair of hooves wrappi- stop! Your face twitches as your muscle tense.

How about something else? A volcano maybe? Molten rock spewing everywhere, burning anything that gets too close. You feel the magic bubbling up inside your chest again, you push it through to your horn. The feeling of an intense warmth flows beneath your skin, drops of perspiration move down your fur. Now, boil the water!

Instead of an uncontrolled blast like the offensive spell, this is much more gradual. You relax and let it go on as the water visibly starts to steam and bubble. It feels rather uncomfortable, like a string is being pulled through the tip of your horn, which in itself feels like a finger, and down towards the water.

“Very good.” He comments. This is enough to break your concentration. There’s no water left in the pitcher, which has been left untouched by your spell. “You are either a very talented little mage, or I’m a fantastic teacher.” He muses. His horn glows and wraps around the pitcher, a metal pot takes its place. The chrome pot is clearly stolen from the kitchen. The lid even has a little handle to check on what’s cooking. The difference is clear, this time you can’t see what’s inside.

“Let’s try again. This time, you’ll not be able to see the target. But this does not restrict you. Simply imagine the area of which the liquid takes and heat the air, just as before.”

Easy peasy, just like before you think of a volcano and the extremely hot magma inside. You push the magic from your horn onto where you believe the water to be and release the magic. This time there’s a lot less steam, but you assume that it’s due to the difficult targeting required. Sombra nods in satisfaction before placing a hoof on your shoulder.

You snap away and clutch your throbbing skull. This really took a lot out of you. Sombra actually looks concerned for once. “Take it easy. Magic fatigue is dangerous. You need not impress me so quickly.” An emotion other than brooding for once? He notices your shock and relapses back into his usual grumpy demeanor; you can’t help but feel disappointed.

“Take a break.” He points to the archway. “We shall continue later.” You don’t question his order and trot off, eager to go back to the library and shoot the breeze with Warm Welcome.

Sombra watches as his student trots away, his eyes flicking down to her flanks for a moment. “Infantile thoughts.” He grumbles to himself. “What am I? A prepubescent colt?” His magic grips the still warm pot and floats it over to him, pulling open the large cover. He covers his eyes as a rush of steam escapes from the open chrome container.

Once the smoke is clear, he looks inside at the crusty red lump that remains. Gathering up the blood was easy enough. He dances a jig inside his head at successfully duping you into practicing blood magic. A niggling concern still remains at the amount of raw power at your disposal. He’d have to keep a close eye on you.

The sound of hooves alerts him to the presence of another. "I told you." The red stallion gloats. He smiles at the King's dire expression. "If I were you, I'd watch out. Wouldn't want her getting any dangerous ideas."

Sombra snorts and rises from the ground. "Indeed. Here's hoping that we can speed up the process before any undue damage is caused."

"She seems to be picking this up remarkably well. These are skills rarely seen even in our hallowed ranks." He sighs wistfully, he sniffs the air, ripe with the stench of blood. "Smells like potential. Do hurry up, we are running out of time." Sombra rolls his eyes and forces the pot into the robed pony's grasp.

"Who are you to command me?"

"The head mage." He deadpans.

"Indeed you are, Fury." A foreboding silence rains upon the yard. "I trust you and your fellows will be with us tomorrow? It's not like you to miss an execution, even in our current state of affairs."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world." He grins.

Author's Note

Going through the motions, big happenings in the next chapter! 30,000 words woo! Officially my longest story. Have some real talk.

Fun Fact: the original draft of this story was based around a medical student being kidnapped and forced to act as Sombra's confidant due to a dangerous injury, before being slowly turned into a pony. It didn't work well due to the setting and concept, so I scrapped it for what we have now. I suppose this particular set-up doesn't lend well to a second person story, and it's grown in scope and scale beyond what I'd originally planned, but I'm very happy with what I've done so far.

The second draft for this was a simple clopfic, which is quite evident from the first few chapters. The positive reception I got for the more dark and story driven elements drove me to expand on different concepts which originally were only to provide context for some shameless TF/TG clop. For example I never even intended to introduce the conflict between Sombra and the rebels, but what's a good story without some conflict? (There will be clop though.)

Ultimately I feel like my skills as a writer have improved greatly from my previous works. I would've never have dreamed of writing something of this scale before. Looking back into the complete mess that was Adjustment fills me with endless shame and a sudden urge to re-write it. Although that won't happen for some time, I'm focused on finishing this one first.

I'd like to thank everybody for reading this, not only for putting up with my horrid update schedule and writing speed, but for also enjoying the story so far. There's quite a ways to go yet, so I hope you all enjoy the ride.

At The Guild

You are awoken bright and early, once again by an incessant knocking at your door. You growl and hit the pillow, for once you’d like a lie in. You’re starting to miss the days when your schedule wasn’t full. You drag yourself from the bed and matte down your wild hair, no need to make a bad first impression.

With a sigh you open the door, revealing a pair of slightly irritated guards. “The King orders your presence in the dining room, urgently.” You nod lethargically and follow them. They don’t seem to realize that you know where it is, but you may as well humor them. A large number of guards patrol the corridors today, far in excess of the usual.

“Is something going on today?” You inquire.

One of the guards looks back to you. “The King will inform you of today’s proceedings.”

You approach the doors. Both guards peel away from you and stand watch at either side, their horns glow and pull the doors outwards. The set-up is nothing apart from what normally happens in the morning aside from the absence of the King himself, so you hastily trot to your seat and await his arrival.

You’re halfway through a particularly delicious piece of toast when the doors swing open, and a grumpy looking Sombra trots through. He doesn’t even give you the time of day as he stakes himself onto the seat to your left. You hold your tongue for the moment, deciding to let him cool down a bit first.

A salad gently floats into place. Without a word he begins to eat at a rather fast pace. Normally he’d take his time in order to annoy you, but that doesn’t seem to be a priority for today. The waiter seems just as confused as you are, stood there awkwardly, waiting to be dismissed. Sombra cleans his plate and slides it away.

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” You inquire. His face twists up for a moment before falling again.

“My head mage wishes to introduce you to the guild, he seems to believe that you’re of some interest to his sect. I cannot blame him, your magical power is beyond any average unicorn. The problem is that it would severely limit my ability to teach you. It will interfere with my schedule for the day.”

You don’t see the issue, though from his point of view it’s a piece of control he’s giving away to somebody else, and given his possessive and controlling personality he doesn’t like it one bit. You however, are ecstatic at the prospect of getting away from him.

“Ultimately the decision lies with me. I have your best interests at heart of course, but sending you to them could provide you with valuable experience. How do you feel?”

“Me?” You ask in surprise. It’s really jarring to hear Sombra giving you options for once, on a certain level you’ve grown used to being ferried around at his whim and call.

“Who else would I ask?”

“It’s just unlike you to ask me what I want for a change.”

“Do you not like it? I could always retract the option.” He growls.

“No. I’m just unsure of why you’re giving me this choice now.” You pout.

“One day, we all have to start making our own actions Rose. I cannot be with you from morning to evening; I have an Empire to run. At the end of the day your choice matters little to me, it only affects you. If you really wish to spend your time around that infuriating stallion and his fellow introverts, I will not stop you.”

Well then.

“Maybe I will. What do they do?”

Sombra sighs. “They help protect the Empire against outside threats, using advanced magic that a simple minded foal like you couldn’t possibly understand. I have little idea what use you could be to Fury, but if he so desires it, I shall say so. I presume you’ll be there as a form of mild entertainment.” He scoffs.

Sombra really doesn’t think all that highly of his elite soldiers. It raises a few eyebrows, no question. For one thing it shows that they might be a source of discontent among his ranks, or even an active threat to his position on the throne. A light bulb goes off in your head, this is perfect! You could easily gather some influence from such a position, and use it to undermine him.

“I think I’ll go see what they want.” You conclude. Sombra shakes his head and chuckles lightly.

“Oh dear.” He mutters. “By the way, we have a… public speaking event to attend in the afternoon; I expect you to be present and prepared for it. That means make yourself presentable. You look like a wet dog.”

Charming.

An unassuming pair of red doors greets you as your guards hastily back away, colorful gold trimming ebbs and flows around the edges of the crimson wood, giving it an elegant and royal look. They swing open of their own volition and nearly catch you across the muzzle.

A fairly bulky looking stallion, around the same stature as Sombra, greets you. He’s dressed in all black robes that hang loose and touch the ground with yet more gold trim that runs around the edge, converging in a circle around his chest area. He has a dark red coat and snow white hair, his aging green eyes sparkle with inquisitive glee.

“Ah! Hello. Good to see the King comes to his senses.”

“I wouldn’t say he was all that happy about it.” You warn. He looks almost panicked for a second.

“Well, you wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to.” He chuckles nervously. He hooks a hoof around your shoulder and begins to pull you into the next corridor. It isn’t anything new, except that Sombra’s black banners have been replaced with deep crimson ones, each marked in the center by a hollow yellow circle like the one on his robe. Not the most creative logo for a powerful mage organization.

“I’m very happy that you’re with us now Ms. Rose. Sombra tends to be overly protective of his pet projects, and well, sometimes he can’t see the wood for the trees.” He rambles. “That aside, this is a fantastic opportunity for both of us. You will benefit from meeting the most powerful mages in the north, and we will benefit from the knowledge of your own inherent power.”

You don’t know what power he’s talking about, considering your inexperience, but you humor him and stay quiet. At the end of the corridor lies an identical set of doors to the first. He throws them open carelessly with his magic to reveal a large, round room. In the center lies a large wooden table, covered with maps, pieces of parchment and what looks to be dirty dishes. A set of red pillows surround the low table as a form of seating.

Around the edge of the room are several simple wooden doors. “They lead to our personal quarters.” The mage informs you. “This is the nerve center of the Crystal Empire’s magical defense and study. We have to be on hoof at all times.”

A simple chandelier hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the room with a set of charged crystals. The most distinct feature of the room is to the north in a spot where no door has been placed. Three sets of impressive looking armor watch over the room. Each set is reared up like that of a horse from Earth.

The set on the left is a light gray, with a blue tabard and galea. The middle set is almost completely black with a green tabard and little swirling accents. The third is identical to the first, but the blue has been replaced with the same deep crimson that hangs from the walls.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed the armor. Those were the days.” He chuckles. “There isn’t much else to see except from the casting chamber, which isn’t much on its own. Let’s get down to business; I’m sure Sombra has invited you to the proceedings later today?”
“Naturally.”

“Not a moment to waste then.” He trots over to the table and sits on one of the pillows. “Just set yourself down anywhere. We’re only going to talk.” You hesitantly pick one of the pillows near to him and carefully sit down as if the pillow will bite you. He clears his throat and breaths onto a hoof, checking the smell of his own breath. “I do believe I am presentable enough to begin.”

“I am head mage Fury.” He motions to himself. “I am the leader of the Crystal Empire’s elite magical organization, under Sombra’s command. We are tasked with research, development and deployment of some of the most terrifying new spells and enchantments. Today I’d like to extend a hoof in invitation to our ranks.”

Perfect. A little evil cackle echoes through your mind.

“You don’t have to decide right now, it’s a big decision to make. I’m willing to let you have a taste of what service with us is like before inducing you as a full member. Even then, you require a significant amount of training before you can reach our lofty standards. Raw power is no issue, but I suspect your technique is lacking.”

“Where are all the others?” You ask, noticing the absence of his fellow mages.

“They’re all helping prepare the stage for later, security and the like.” His horn lights up and a bundle of red cloth floats from under the table. “As an initiate, you are to wear the corresponding robes when in public.” He opens it out, revealing a cloak similar to his own, golden trim runs along the edges and converges in the center as a circle. “The acolytes and initiates wear red. Senior members like me wear black.”

The cloak is draped across your body and connected via a small clasp. It’s airy and clearly designed for everyday wear. The chest consists solely of the trim circle, which extends down across your sides as it runs the length of your body. It leaves plenty of ground clearance, meaning it’ll be hard to trip up. It’s just long enough to cover your cutie mark entirely. The cloak also has a thick collar that runs around the back of your neck, like something off an old detective’s trenchcoat.

All in all it’s a nice piece of clothing. Having something to wear is a strange comfort after being completely naked for so long. You didn’t think on it until now, but the presence of tails means that accidently flashing your private bits isn’t a concern.

He nods approvingly. “A perfect fit! It accompanies your mane brilliantly, if I do say so myself. Welcome to the order, Acolyte Rose.” You were expecting some kind of ancient arcane ritual, or a meeting among a council of elders. It appears that the approval process for this top secret guild is defined purely of the head mage giving you a fancy robe.

It’s a very nice robe, but still.

“Normally we have a little initiation party for new members, but all the others are very busy.” He grumbles. “We should probably be joining them soon.” An ear ringing gong echoes through the room. You cover your ears and squeak as the Fury looks rather annoyed.

“I told them to stop using the doorbell.” He shouts as he hastily trots to the door. You’re left alone in the room for a few minutes before his head peers back through the gap. “The guards are here to collect you, come along.”

You sigh at the short lived bout of personal freedom and follow him back to the front entrance. The guards don’t even give you time to say goodbye before they drag you off.

You are shoved rudely into what appears to be some kind of parlor. A little stage has been erected in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides by racks of clothing and various dressers. Your arrival catches the attention of the workers. A group of mares flock to you and escort you onto the podium, removing the cloak from your shoulders and reemerging with various care products.

Your hair is combed into an elegant set of curls that tumble down your neck, your hooves are faithfully polished into a sparkling shine, your eyelashes are assaulted by makeup to help make them look longer and more defined and a splash of eye shadow gives your eye lids a light pink tint that goes well with your ruby eyes.

It happens so fast that you don’t have room for complaint. Before you know it the cloak has been draped across your body and a mirror has been dragged out to show their work. The mare that looks back is a far cry from what you’re used to. You look refined and attractive, for whose benefit you don’t know. Sombra must like to make his associates look as good as possible for public appearances. You have to admit you weren’t taking good care of yourself.

The crystal mares all giggle and smile before peeling away to work on something else. You think back to your time as a human and frown. You should be a lot more resistant to this kind of thing. On the other hand there isn’t much room for argument here. It’s not like they know what you used to be, so embarrassment isn’t really much of an issue.

Or you could stop being so melodramatic about a bit of makeup, Sombra tossed you into an entirely different body and you didn’t spend this much time considering the consequences. Is wearing a bit of eye shadow really another erosion of who you are, or just an adverse consequence of already being changed on a basic level?

A familiar face peeks through the door, Warm squees as she sees you and runs over to get a good look. She fawns over your new cloak, fondling the soft fabric between her hooves. “You look so good! I don’t know why you didn’t drop by here earlier.”

“I’m not big into makeup and stuff.” You admit. Warm shakes her head in disappointment and leads you away from the busy tailors. The corridors are near empty, from both guards and staff. It’s nearly time for Sombra’s event. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Warm looks noticeably more downtrodden as you walk down to the throne room doors.

They’re already open. Sombra notices you before you even enter the room, dismissing another unicorn stallion wearing one of the black cloaks. His eyes widen as you get closer. He must be surprised at your decision to join the guild.

“You look fantastic.” That hope withered quickly. You roll your eyes at the small compliment and walk to the steps. “We’re leaving now. Come along.” He orders. Warm follows him like a lost puppy, but you hang back for a second to try and catch a glimpse of the mystery stallion. He isn’t looking your way though, so it’s a wasted effort.

You have to double time it to catch up with them. Sombra seemed intent to get there sooner rather than later, so much so that he didn’t notice that he left you behind. As you approach the front doors of the palace the crowds slowly become denser. Guards and staff gather at each side of the corridors, watching you march along.

“By the way, I’m assigning Warm to be your personal assistant.” Sombra informs you. Warm looks surprised at her sudden change in duty but doesn’t comment. “It will make communication between us easier, and help you be more punctual to our little gatherings. Warm, I expect you to conduct this duty with the same zealous attention to detail that you gave me.”

“Of course Sir.” She smiles.

Her smile fades as you approached the front doors. A nervous feeling wells up in your chest. Sombra continues on with his stoic demeanor, unwilling to reveal weakness in front of his subjects. The doors swing open as a mighty horn blows across the yard announcing his arrival. As you look past the huge group of ponies that fill the square, you notice a wooden stage at the center, a tied noose hanging freely in the breeze.

Author's Note

dun dun duuuuun

Shit goes down in the next chapter when I'm back from my holiday in 10 days. Sorry, but there will be quite the delay between this chapter and the next.

It's time for the next story arc. ;)

Leave Me Hanging

An oppressive silence rains over the crowd as the King walks to the stand, you and Warm hesitantly following him. Hushed whispers emerge from the crowd. the wooden gallows stand tall, allowing for enough ground clearance to show the area underneath, just in case anypony wants to watch the life be choked out of a hapless victim. Although some are already facing away, their faces etched with worry for the events about to unfold.

The mages remain hidden beneath hoods, something missing from your own robes; they scan over the crowds like hawks to prevent potential attacks, but also to keep a path open for the guests of honor to be walked to their death. Beyond that a contingent of guards surround the wooden stage in a circle, leaving an open space around it.

The King strides ahead without remorse or doubt, forcing you and Warm to scurry after him. A cold wind pierces your robe and stands your fur on end. You look out to the crowd and for the briefest moment spot the familiar façade of Silver Shield, who is quickly swallowed back into the shifting masses and away from your view.

You look ahead, Sombra and Warm already ascending the rickety wooden steps. You swallow your fear and follow them, the burning gaze of a thousand angry citizens boring into you. A cool drop of sweat slithers its way down your muzzle and onto the wooden floor. Silver Shield is nowhere to be found, the large numbers of ponies, of all colours and sizes makes finding him an impossible task.

His support would be really handy right now.

The King surveys the crowd with a disinterested stare, they flinch away and bow their heads meekly as he sweeps over them. He clears his throat, the rough sound traveling through the yard and promptly silencing the whispers. He smiles for the briefest moment. Horn alight he begins to address them.

“Greetings, citizens of the Crystal Empire. I come forth today, not only with a message for you all, but to show you the swift hoof of justice upon a traitor to our fold. A pony whose sole wish is to destroy our ways, and allow our Empire to be conquered by the tyrannical goddesses,” he spits with contempt. The crowd murmur for a moment, mulling over his accusations and what is soon to be done.

The doors open once again, a set of four guards emerging, flanking a frazzled looking green stallion. A dirty brown blindfold covers his eyes, and a set of heavy metal shackles chain all of his legs together to prevent an escape. His hooves clack heavily against the crystal covered ground. The chatter intensifies as he’d marched to the gallows.

“Spyglass,” You hiss under your breath.

“This traitor, this shell of a pony, wishes to leave us open to attack by imperial soldiers. His crimes are innumerable, assisting in the assault which killed several of my personal palace guards. However they were no simple soldiers; they had families and friends among you in the crowd. Their faces will never be seen by us again, buried under the weight of our earth.”

The crowd draws silent once again as Spyglass is forced up the steps, his hooves clumsily knocking against the next thanks to the blindfold.

“And so, it is with great sadness that I return his crimes onto himself. By the order of the Crystal crown, I hereby sentence this stallion to death… by hanging.” Your throat burns with a rising tide of bile, vile images of Spyglass’ lifeless face flash across your consciousness. Sombra steps back from the front, allowing the guards to position Spyglass beneath the frame.

The coarse rope is slipped around his neck. His chest heaves rapidly in panic as his hooves shuffle and shake. The guard pony pulls the noose tight, compressing his windpipe and pulling his head backwards. A burlap bag follows, cutting of his vision again.

The crowd is captivated by the display, death and suffering being the furthest thing from their minds normally. They don’t seem to be very outraged by the conviction, Sombra acting as judge and jury, you wonder if he’ll pull the lever too. You hope that one of them will cry out, to stop it before it’s too late.

But they remain silent; their lips stitched shut by the careful hoof of mages and pointed spears.

You look to Warm, who’s turned around to stop herself from looking. A small damp patch where she was standing shows her true feelings to the execution. Sombra takes no notice, or simply doesn’t care, his eyes locked firmly onto the quivering stallion. You doubt he really cares about the death of those stallions, he just wants an excuse to strike fear into his subjects.

One guard moves, slowly, with measured steps to the lever. You bite your lip to stop yourself from shouting out, you don’t want to cause a scene, but your friend’s life is on the line. He opens his maw wide, and leans over to grip the small handle between his teeth. You let out a whine of agony as he grips it gently, and moves to pull back.

Time seems to slow down for a moment, activity exploding across the yard. You look over to see a group of ponies struggling with the guards around you. A singular arrow bolt flying towards the skull of the executioner, the sound of crunching bone and splattering sinew as it pierces his head, sending a shower of blood across the ground.

The guards spring into action, moving to engage the assailants. A crossbow is discarded on the ground as one stallion flees and others block the way so the guards can’t arrest him. It looks like the assassin brought a lot of help. Sombra grunts and calmly walks back inside, ignoring the violence breaking out around him. Figures he’d run away. You find yourself too enthralled with everything to do the same.

The others surround a green unicorn, who smirks at their attempt to apprehend him. The familiar sound of charging magic is the only warning you have before a huge bolt of magic crashes through them and strikes the base of the stage. You barely have time to move as the stage collapses under your hooves in a blinding flash of blue magic before exploding outwards. You fly through the air for a few seconds.

The air forces itself out of your lungs as you hit the ground with a thud. You wheeze and clutch your throbbing midsection as the shouts of surprise and fear grow in volume and number. A scant few scream and flee from the area as the clashes grow more violent. The copper laden taste of blood in your mouth does nothing to ease your panic.

You force open your eyes to the sight of scattered wood, what’s left of the stage you were stood on, still alight with the blue flames that blew you across the crowd like a rag-doll. A crowd of ponies surround you, worry in their faces as they approach your unmoving body. They seem to notice your gaze and back away in shock.

You spit the blood onto the ground and sit up, your stomach throbbing in protest at the small movement. On shaky legs you stand and struggle, looking out into the much thinner crowd. You’re highly disorientated; blurry vision prevents you from seeing beyond a few feet in front of you. You shut your eyes and clutch your head, waiting for your eyes to stop watering. You peel them open again soon after find that your vision has thankfully cleared up.

Behind the concerned ponies you can see the chaos, unarmored stallions running into the guard ranks and pushing them back, the mages lost in confusion as they desperately attempt to keep the swarm of ponies away from them. The guards seem to be torn between harming them and pacifying them, falling back into a tighter circle to protect their own.

You look back to where the stage used to stand, a black scorch mark being all that’s left of the old structure. Bodies are scattered around, pools of blood gathering under them. That explosion must have killed some; it’s a miracle you survived yourself. With a gasp you shamble away, looking for Warm Welcome amid the riot. You hope dearly that she survived the blast.

You limp around the edge of the fight, making sure to keep out of sight of the angry ponies. The cloak you’re wearing doesn’t help, marking you as a dangerous mage, but they seem to be more interested in the healthy mages rather than your half dead ass. Even so your paranoia forces you to duck away from the peering eyes of the spectators.

You approach a scorched looking body, smoke still rising from the charred corpse. You can’t even discern the colour of their coat. With a hesitant hoof you roll the body over, revealing a dead face still twisted in agony. You resist the urge to vomit as you glance at the cadaver in the hopes of identifying them. One cutie mark is left intact, a bouquet of flowers.

You groan and scan the yard spotting several more unmoving ponies. With a deep breath you approach the nearest. You thank the heavens that you don’t have to touch this one. Their much more intact and you divert away once you get close enough to see their coat colour is nowhere near the same shade of blue. You take a short break to breath, your lungs are feeling increasingly constricted as time goes on.

Your heart sinks for every body investigated, some with painful looking scorch marks on their faces and bodies. That blast was very powerful and intended to kill. If this was meant to be a rescue mission, they must have nearly killed Spyglass to get him, or they cut him down without anypony noticing. Even then the question of how to transport him posed a challenge especially with the heavy presence of the guards and mages.

Last body and still no sign of Warm. You breathe a small sigh of relief, at least she isn’t dead. She has to be somewhere in the crowd, but with all the fighting going on it’s hard to see from one end to the other and your vision is still blurry from the explosion. Warm isn’t much of a fighter, so she’s either inside already or hiding out along the edges of the crowd.

You push past a line of enraptured mares and away from the fighting. All you have to do now is walk around the edge until you find her, easier said than done with your current state. You grit your teeth and decide to get it over with, picking up the pace into a brisk trot and gasping in pain as your body throbs in protest once again.

Half way around the edge you spot her, still wearing that red bow-tie and cowering at one the pillars that hold up the palace. Luckily it seems that they’ve decided to leave her alone, a concern given her position on the stage. You reach out and poke her with a hoof. “It’s me Warm,” you assure her, “are you going to be alright?” She doesn’t respond. You look back again, happy that the rest of the mob is ignoring you. You firmly grab her leg and pull. “We’ve got to move,” you wheeze.

An eye peers out from her cocoon and her body relaxes as she realizes it’s you. “W-what’s happening?” She whimpers. Screams of pain only cause the clashes to become more prolific.

“I-I don’t know, they’re fighting the guards. Listen, we have to get somewhere safe.” She looks around you and gasps at the fighting. It seems to jolt her into action as she climbs to her hooves and helps support you. You smile in appreciation.

“You look injured,” she worries, eying the nasty bruise developing on your stomach, “we need to get help.”

Help is far away you think bitterly, the guards seem to be too occupied fighting to help the injured. A big stallion charges in head first, knocking away a pair of guards and shattering their formation. It all falls apart from there, with several dropping their weapons and running for the door which has been left wide open. “The door,” you whisper, noticing it being pulled to by the last guard.

Warm supports you as you hobble over to the entrance. Unluckily for you the fight has winded down as the guards flee, and it seems to finally catch the attention of the mob, which promptly turns to face you. This isn’t good. Warm is terrified as her body shakes under the scrutiny of them. They prowl towards you like lions stalking their pray.

“The king’s whore!” One shouts, rousing jeers from the crowd. “I’d like to see your mage pals help you now!” They close in, bashing sticks and makeshift weapons against the ground. Your ears begin to ring and hammer as a familiar feeling wells up inside you, you’re in danger and you need to fight them. Warm steps back for a moment, sensing the imminent danger from being near you.

A small mercy for them comes when one sneaks up behind you and swings. You can’t even scream as you black out from the blow to your head.

The feeling of water dripping down onto your forehead brings you back into the realm of the living. Your head throbs in protest, compounded by the pain still emanating from your stomach. If you find who blew up the gallows you’re going to choke them to death. Why did they even do that? They stood to injure the man they wanted to rescue for god’s sake.

You roll over onto your side, wincing as ice cold water seeps through your coat and meets your skin. A good way to wake yourself up, but for you it’s an unwelcome irritation that only serves to make you feel worse. You peel open your eyes to meet a smooth stone wall, naturally formed. You must be in some kind of cave system.

You crack your neck and look around, noting the makeshift holding cell you find yourself in. Flimsy iron bars cover a wide opening, while the rest is surrounded on all sides by the cave wall. It’s very dark, much darker than Sombra’s own dungeon. You can’t even see to the other end of the room, the only light source being a singular candle stood proudly on a rickety wooden table.

Warm Welcome is nowhere to be found, leaving you along and isolated. You growl and shift to sit on your backside. A flash of pain rocks your nerves and you clutch your heavily bruised midsection. The formerly white fur is heavily discoloured an ugly shade of purple, a paltry ring of bandages try and fail to cover the entire injury. You were lucky to not break a rib, judging by the size of the bruise. One of the spare pieces of wood must have hit you during the blast.

They took you prisoner that much is obvious. You sigh and hang your head in shame, some powerful mage you turned out to be, bowing out from a simple to the head. Sombra is probably going ballistic right now trying to find you; a small solace amid your heart of fear.

You even find the mirth to give a bitter chuckle.

Author's Note

back from my jollies

Not really 100% with this one so tell me what you think, I can't help but get the feeling this chapter is slightly confusing. Although you've waited long enough for an update so I decided to get this one out.

Going Underground

Boredom has sunk its grubby little claws into your mind. At first you expected one of the rebels who captured you to come down to the cell and gloat for a little while, but it slowly developed into resignation as the hours dragged on. Talking to you must not be a priority right now. You tried to call to the other cells in the vague hope that they would also be occupied, but you have no such luck. Either there is some kind of spell preventing communication, or you’re the only pony down here.

It’s given you time to think back on everything that happened; the execution, the riot, how you could have avoided getting bludgeoned and thrown in a dark cell. You really fucked it up. Another part of you is worried about Warm and whether or not they captured her too. You can’t see any reason for them to do so. She isn’t exactly a high value target like you are.

But the thing that sticks out in your mind most is Sombra’s reaction to the entire thing. He had to know it was coming, his emotionless reaction and prompt but calm walk to the door tell you that much. He let you get captured, he could have easily bowled over all of the ponies in the area but he didn’t, and completely ignored your own distress. Either he doesn’t value you as much as you first thought and he’s already getting your replacement, or he intended for you to get caught in the first place.

You poke the collar a few times. It’s possible and not beyond Sombra’s conniving realm of possibility. The collar could double as some kind of tracking beacon, simply so he can locate the position of this rebel base and stamp it out. Unfortunately you simply don’t know. He never demonstrated knowledge of your nightly trips to speak with Spyglass unless he intentionally kept quiet about them to put you in a position of trust with the rebels.

It’s a lot to take in. So many possibilities swirl through your head, visions of calamity and pain, a conflict with you placed in the middle as Sombra’s star player.

The sound of a door shutting snaps you out of the daze. Clopping hooves descend the steps. You can’t see them due to the darkness at first, but you grow a small smile of relief as Silver Shield walks up to the cell with a rather dire look on his face.

“About time,” you quip. Silver doesn’t react at first, studying your scuffed face intently. He paces in front of the cell a few times before stopping suddenly.

“I’m very sorry,” he begins turning to pace again, “about what happened earlier, I should have known that the spell was a tad too powerful.” Silver was the one who did it? You frown at him and point to your poorly bandaged chest. “I know, I know.”

“I actually don’t have much to say really, sorry about the blast, sorry about not letting you in on it earlier, sorry for the poor treatment,” he declares apologetically, “I’m going to have some words with the boss, I’ll see about getting you out of that cell, at least for a little while.”

“You don’t have to do all that for me,” you dismiss modestly.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m doing it anyway,” he grins heading back over to the stairs. “Oh, before I go keep a close eye on that Fury guy, he’s like a bad smell.” The door slams shut as you mull over his words.

“Wha-,”

He’s gone. The sound of the door slamming shut echoes through the prison.

Time soon begins to blur together again. Silver’s little talk must be taking a long time, that or he’s failed to convince the pony in charge. A fresh problem pops into your mind, how long are they going to keep you down here? You shiver as a cold gust blows through the room, you wouldn’t mind so much if they let you keep the robe. It figures too, your first day as a member of the super-secret mage’s guild and you lose the damn thing before you get to break it in.

You’ve taken to scratching at the walls to pass the time, the mild sensory deprivation having grated on your nerves. This must have been what Spyglass felt like. A pang of sympathy for the poor stallion tears at your heart, he was in there much longer than you have been. You wonder how he coped for so long.

A glimmer of hopes arrives as the door opens again, light flooding in from the room above. A single crystal mare walks down the stairs and briskly marches to your cell. She has a dull yellow coat and a turquoise mane, with shimmering orange eyes. She’s probably the first pony you’ve seen wearing a pair of saddlebags. “My name is Commander Lily, you can refer to me a Sir,” she demands in a scratchy tomboyish voice. “I’m in charge of the rebel contingent that has taken you prisoner here.”

Well, you know Silver came through at least.

“I want to ask you a few question missy, and then we can consider moving you somewhere else. I’m not a fan of this place myself.” She pulls out a ring of keys from one of the bags, flicking through them, carefully studying the little pieces of engraved writing on each one. It takes her a minute to find the correct key, which she uses to unlock the rusty door and pull it open.

“Take a seat at the table. I’m giving you a bit of leeway because you haven’t tried to break out yet.” Now that she mentions it, you don’t seem to have any kind of magical inhibitor on your horn. They must not have one on hoof to use. Even then the idea of breaking out with your magic never once crossed your mind.

You sit down on one of the old wooden chairs. It’s still uncomfortable but a nice change from the hard stone floor that has destroyed the feeling on your lower cheeks. You shuffle a little to get comfortable as the mare pulls a ring binder from the other bag and gently places it on the table in front of her. She shrugs of the saddle bags and places them next to her seat.

She flips it open to a page displaying a range of different photos and pieces of scrap paper. The paper is covered in different pieces of writing, from simple, short letters to one particular letter with what seems to be some kind of mathematical table. She isn’t shy about showing of her spoils, so you take in as much as you can.

As she progresses through it with a word, things slowly become more familiar. Several of the photos show the training yard and garden, the open air above them in plain sight. A room similar to yours is also featured heavily, and for a moment you consider the possibility that they’ve been spying on you the entire time.

It surprises you how well versed this rag tag group of rebels really are. Shown in the folder there is evidence of inside agents working to gather intelligence and send it back, plots for various attacks and attempts to undermine the regime and even the occasional book page torn from their place potentially from the library where Warm worked in her spare time.

Lily doesn’t object to your prying eyes and on some pages slows down rather deliberately so you can take it all in before she moves on. The focus of the images shift abruptly around the mid-way point, the pieces of small writing become less frequent and images of the palace are omitted entirely. She turns one last page, to one dedicated in its whole to pictures of you, from various angles and distances. A large catalog has been assembled and collected inside of this single folder.

“As you can see,” she says after a long silence, “you’ve been making waves among our little intelligence community. The sudden arrival of a mystery mare, held inside his personal suites usually reserved for VIPs or high ranking officers, and a quick and dirty induction to his secret cabal of mages. It’s fairly easy to see why you’ve garnered interest from us.” She takes a deep breath and leans back onto her seat.

“The others see another… obstacle, in the way of liberation, but I see opportunity.” You tense up slightly at the way she hisses the word. “So far, Sombra has sat idly by and watched as things fall to pieces around him. The people grow restless from the food shortages and the forced quarantine, his once tightly kept guards have fallen into pits of corruption and incompetence, and despite all of that he wastes his time making accommodations for you.”

“So he does,” you say with a pursed frown. She nods and smirks.

“Sombra is putting all his eggs in one basket so to speak, you. He believes you have the power to decide the fate of this conflict and is doing everything in his power to convince you to vouch for him. I heard a few rumors from our agents about his personal magic lessons, him honing your skills to become a warrior for his cause.”

Is that all you are? A weapon? Sombra went through a lot of effort to bring you here, all just so you can fight for him in his civil war? It doesn’t add up.

“What concern is that to me, I could easily refuse,” you point out.

“But can you?” She asks with an intense gaze, “don’t act stupid with me, or yourself, that collar has more sway than you like to admit.” She silences herself, looking away for something to distract herself with. “I don’t want that to happen to you. I can tell you don’t want any part in this mess.”

“Funny for you to say while trying to get me to fight, for you instead,” you scoff. She has a lot of nerve.

“I never said anything about fighting Rose, my interest is in what you know and what you can learn. I’m not going to bullshit you, our cause is being battered from all sides; even with our recent gains. That failed attack on the palace destroyed our forces and ended in the deaths of several of our best fighters and officers. Sombra is hunting down our bases with increasing ferocity, forcing us to move and adapt which wastes time. He’s tightening the noose figuratively and literally.”

The impression you were getting earlier is that the rebels were quite influential, but it seems the success from earlier was a fluke according to their commander. They probably have no shortage of support among the populace at least.

“I don’t see what I can do to help,” you sigh, “it sounds like an issue you have to deal with personally. All the knowledge in the world won’t help you if you can’t make moves against him.”

“True,” she nods, “but our problems stem from more than just lack of fighters. We have nothing to go on anymore. Even with the failings of Sombra’s regime we’re just firing toothpicks at an elephant. We need a game changer,” she rants intensely. She takes a shaky breath and relaxes once more.

You mull over the choice in your head. Working with them comes with its own risks after all. If Sombra finds out, you don’t fancy your chances of survival. If you do get caught you don’t have anywhere to run. Do you really have much to lose?

“Why are you telling me all this?” You ask suspiciously. “What’s stopping me from running over to Sombra and telling him everything?”

“Nothing, if we let you go, you could tell him everything I just said. It won’t do much, but it will earn his trust somewhat; as much as that counts for a snake like him. Or you can help us take him down and give this empire back to the people.”

You don’t even know if you want to yet, although she is providing you with an easy avenue to get out of this prison. Your first priority is finding out where you are and how to leave, second priority is trying to topple a dictator. Appeasing her now will be easy enough to do without major effort. She already knows that you don’t like Sombra very much; otherwise she wouldn’t have come to you with the offer.

“You don’t even have to do much. All we need is an inside mare to destabilize the guard and mage guild, real easy stuff like destroying intelligence and supplies.”

You bite your lip and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you,” you sigh. Lily smiles and pulls the folder back into her saddlebag.

“I’m glad we could reach an agreement.” She slips out from her seat. “I’m going to give you a tour of the place, maybe you can talk to a few of the guys.”

Escaping prison is surprisingly easy it seems. You follow her up the steps and through the makeshift door. “Where is my cloak by the way?” You ask as you enter a dirt tunnel, badly lit by a few hanging lamps. It’s quite a squeeze; your sides nearly touch the moist walls.

“It’ll be in the armory somewhere, the clothier wanted to see if it had any nasty surprises. It’s close by so that can be our first stop.”

The tunnel slowly expands as you walk down it; you estimate that by the time you reach the end two ponies could stand side by side in there. It exits into a much nice corridor carved out from the rock. A few ponies pass by, staring at you for a moment before skittering off as the commander glares at them. “These ponies don’t know how to mind their own damn business,” she mutters.

Déjà vu strikes as you’re once again led down a series of non-descript corridors, the bane of your existence. Just a few hours ago you were wishing that the excitement would end, but now with the looming prospect of another boring period of waltzing down corridors, you can’t help but groan quietly to yourself.

Mercifully you reach the armory after only five minutes. The rebels seem about as enthusiastic about pointless corridors as you do, which you wish could be the same for Sombra too. That palace is awful.

The armory isn’t very impressive. A few wooden crates line the room with an open central area. Weapon racks stands in front of the boxes, adorned with several kinds of spears and other blunt weapons. It’s clear this room was mined out at some point before being reused as a storage area.

An aging gray stallion sits at a small wooden desk. Lily has to clear her throat a few times to catch his attention. “Oh! I didn’t see you there Commander,” he chuckles. “What can I do you for? Looking for something new? Our friends just brought us some shiny new toys.” He motions to one of the close by crates, the weapons from inside still lying unattended on the ground.

“We’re here to pick up Rose’s personal effects.” The stallion nods and reaches under the table, bringing up a soggy cardboard box. You silently hope he isn’t keeping your expensive robe in there. You have to withhold a little yell as he pulls it from the various other pieces of scrap fabric. It’s noticeably soggy, with little droplets of water still falling away from the darkened bottom.

Just fantastic.

You take it from his hooves and give him a curt nod, trying not to show displeasure. “That’s a very interesting coat you got there little lady,” he strokes his chin, a few wild hairs dangling down, “high quality stuff, not exactly used for any practical purpose though.”

You decide to not wear the soaked rag for now. Lily rolls her eyes as you both trot away from the eccentric stallion.

Sombra sat stone-faced at the dining table, the seat next to him absent. Fury sat at the other end, looking at his reflection with one of the large spoons. A moment of silence passes as he gently places it back onto his table cloth. “She’s missing,” he states, nodding to the seat, “don’t tell me she’s bowed out already.”

Sombra drops his fork before wiping his muzzle with a white napkin. “She’s quite well, actually.” Fury looks on skeptically.

“Quite well, just like the last three?”

Sombra shrugs, picking through his salad with a disinterested glare. “Hm. Yes. Do you contest that we cut our losses and move on brother? We’ve spent quite a bit of effort on dear old Rose these past few weeks.”

Fury chews on his lip while looking to the ceiling. “Maybe,” he sighs, “I don’t fancy her chances with those rebels.”

“She’ll be fine, they have enough eyes and ears to know her character and I made sure of that.”

“And if she isn’t?”

Sombra scoffs, “Just bring another one. We have all the time in the world you know. I feel trouble brewing, be on your guard.”

“Of course milord,” Fury bows, before briskly leaving the room. As the doors slam shut behind him he scowls. “Just bring me another; does that idiot believe I have humans falling out of my ears?” He spits trotting back to his personal chambers. “Oh there will be trouble brother; more than you know.”

Author's Note

I am stuck in the mud with plot progression seriously.

What will Rose choose? Will she join the rebels and undermine Sombra? Or will she decide to ignore their pleas for help and use it as a get out of jail free card? What is Fury up to? Will Sombra ever be able to enjoy his salad? Find out on next week's episode/whenever I decide to stop being lazy.

Shock Therapy

Lily seems very keen to get somewhere. Her “tour” is less of a leisurely stroll and more of a power walk to an unknown destination. Instead of pointing out landmarks and important facilities, she’s shouting at the other ponies running around the base for getting in the way. The entire place becomes one big blur as she deftly ignores every room she passes by.

“Where are we going?” You ask, struggling to keep pace with her. She ignores your question for a moment, shoving a pig headed drunken guard out of the way first.

“We need to get to the blacksmith; he’s going to help us get rid of your collar. We’ve wasted enough time already so try to keep up,” she demands in a condescending tone. She’s all warm and friendly when there’s another pony to recruit, but once she’s got you it’s all business.

She makes a sharp right that causes you to stumble on the muddy floor. The hallways have opened up even more now into a large system of tunnels and caves. This must have been some kind of mine before the conflict. The rails for the mine carts still wind around the place like metal snakes. Occasionally one is pushed pass you by a burly crystal pony, full to the brim with more crates that are either supplies or the weapons from Equestria.

She comes to a sudden stop. She politely knocks on the old wooden door before opening it slowly. “Come in!” A gravelly voice yells from inside. Lily ushers you into the room. A large black furnace takes up a good portion of the place, a roaring fire still blazing inside its open maw. A large funnel runs from the top into the ceiling, a ventilation system for the heavy smoke.

A sooty grey earth pony hammers away and an anvil, the white hot metal being folded into the shape of a new piece of armor, although you aren’t quite sure what it’s designed for. Pony armor design isn’t your specialty. Lily stands there patiently as he places the hammer down and delicately picks up the metal plate with a pair of tongs, dipping them into a bucket of cold water. A rush of steam bellows from the bucket as his attention is placed on his commanding officer.

“Good morning commander, it’s been a while since you’ve been down here,” he greets her, shaking her hoof with his own.

“Haven’t had much time with all that’s going on,” she replies, wiping her now soot covered hoof against the floor. “I came down here to pick your brain for a little while, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I can always make time for you Sir,” he nods, looking to you, “a fresh face? Who’s your new friend?”

“This is Rose; she’s agreed to help us out.”

The blacksmith confidently walks up to you, eyebrows wiggling. “A pretty name for a pretty lady,” he lifts one your hooves up in his own and places a dainty kiss on it. You give him a nervous smile and chuckle while repressing the urge to gag.

“Such a flatterer,” you seethe.

“Keep it in your sheathe Anvil,” she chides, knocking him around the back of his head. “We came here on business, not so you can flirt with the new girl.”

“O-of course Sir,” he apologizes, “business as always.” The commander doesn’t seem too convinced, but she seems to drop the problem for now.

“You see that slave collar, get rid of it,” she asks simply. Anvil nods and heads over to his tools, his hoof drifts across the selection before pulling out a pair of bolt cutters. You wonder why a blacksmith needs something usually reserved for breaking and entering. “Need a hoof?” Anvil nods as he drags the large cutters towards you. Seems a bit overkill for a leather collar.

“Isn’t that a bit much? Can’t you just use some scissors?”

“Scissors aren’t going to get through that stuff,” Lily says taking the other handle opposite Anvil. “It’s designed to withstand little stuff like that, it was originally used to identify slaves from these gem mines, but the conflict put production of hold and now they’re mainly used as low level bondage gear for pouty nobles.”

Anvil and Lily position the cutters, prying it under the collar. It’s a tight squeeze and it cuts of your airflow, forcing you to breath rapidly through your nose. They’re quite blunt, so you don’t see how it’ll actually cut through the thing. “On three, one, two, three-“

“Arrrrggggghhhh!” they both shout, bodies tensed. The cutters fall away as they both wrestle with their suddenly uncooperative muscles. Anvil falls to the floor, still convulsing. Lily manages to hold herself steady, but is rendered unable to move for several minutes. You sit there, unable to decide whether to run and get help or stay and watch over them.

Luckily they begin recover on their own. Slight signs of movement come from the previously unconscious Anvil and Lily takes a moment to sit down and gather herself. “W-what the buck was that!” She yells finally regaining control of her vocal cords. “Anvil, you ok buddy?” She prods his body a few times, to which he only returns a quiet groan. “He’ll be fine.”

“So… you can’t get it off?” You ask suddenly disheartened. The idea of getting rid of that collar, another hallmark of Sombra’s manipulation actually had you quite excited for once in your currently dire life. It seems that nothing wants to go your way recently.

“Tartarus no, there’s some kind of spell on that thing stopping us,” Anvil declares, finally rising from the ground. Lily nods and takes a closer look.

“No latch to get it off, but no signs of any active enchantment.”

“Sombra had to use his magic on it to make it work,” you point out.

“Selective control, that’s some advanced stuff for something that small. Either Sombra’s getting senile these days or he’s using you as a test subject,” Lily scoffs. “No tact, honestly.”

“You were expecting the slave driving tyrant to have tact?” Anvil quips. Lily glares at him before turning back to you. “Yeah, let’s not try that again.”

“There’s something to be said about respecting a lady,” Lily complains, “some royalty he is.”

“He isn’t really royalty though, is he?” Anvil fires back.

“I suppose not,” she concedes, “let’s not get distracted.”

“What is this collar thing about,” you ask, tired of their argument. “You guys just got shocked and paralyzed, and you’re busy arguing over whether or not Sombra is a bucking gentlecolt or not?”

“We can’t do anything about it,” Anvil interrupts, “this is some extremely advanced magic, and the few unicorns that work with us have the magical understanding of an eight year old filly.”

“He’s right,” Lily admits. “We don’t have brains to pick over this so it’s going to have to stay for now.”

“What if it has some kind of tracking spell on it too? Sombra could be sending soldiers over here right now,” you point out.

Lily laughs, “Tracking spell? I don’t think so. That’s usually reserved for something larger, like some important cargo. Even then it only lasts for so long. I’m pretty sure the King wasn’t planning on you getting captured…”

So why did he run off?

“…and didn’t have the foresight to put a tracking spell on that thing before you left. It’s impossible for him to put a long lasting spell on that little collar.”

“So how did he put such a powerful shock spell on it too?” Anvil ponders. Lily stops in her tracks for a moment.

“I don’t know,” she seethes. Anvil flinches and backs up from the irritated mare. “It doesn’t matter now, if there was a tracking spell on the thing he’d be down here with all of his army by now, so just shut up before I shove those cutters up your ass.”

This mare needs to take a chill pill. Anvil nods mutely and turns back to his workstation. “We’re done right? I need to get back to work.”

“Fine, come on.”

You’ve been walking in silence for quite a while now, the gradient of the floor indicating that you’re heading to the surface. The tunnels have become increasingly empty as you’ve gone along, an occasional spattering of discarded boxes and supplies break up the monotony. Lily’s voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re probably wondering what I need you to do when you get back to the castle.”

“I thought we’d have discussed this earlier,” you say in confusion.

“Don’t tell him, but Anvil rustled my feathers so to speak. I’m not willing to take any more chances with Sombra and his fancy magic tricks. He’s caught us out one too many times for my liking.” So she got angry at him because he was right? This mare is kind of a bitch.

“Anyway, it’s real easy stuff. I just need you to give me the inside angle on what’s going down in the castle, potential sleepers, supply locations, guard movements, all that fun stuff. It’ll be simple to report back too, one of our guys works in the mail room and combs through all the stuff, which is why we knew about Spyglass’ impending execution.

Just mark your letter with an “R” and he’ll pick it out. There’s no time limit, so don’t feel pressure to put yourself in abnormal amounts of danger,” she smiles at her salesmare pitch. She stops as the cascading light crosses the tip of her hooves; you’re at the exit already. You can’t see outside from this angle because of the harsh mid-day sun. “Just tell some bullshit to them about how you escaped; they’ll believe anything these days.”

She stands there for a moment before realizing something. “Oh and never tell them where you came from,” she warns with an out of place smile.

“I don’t think I could find your base again if I tried,” you wave her off. Knowing full well the path she took, but she doesn’t need to know that does she. You’re also fairly certain that was a thinly veiled threat pointed firmly in your direction.

With that she turns and descends back into the tunnels leaving you on your lonesome once again. You walk out of the cave mouth to a beautiful looking vista that covers a lot of the Empire. The city stands tall and proud in the distance, its glimmering spires reflecting the morning sunlight. The streets are empty of civilians still; you mustn’t have been gone for long as you can still see the occasional guard patrol march up and down the streets.

You’re fairly close to the outer dome of the city. You look behind you and see that it abruptly cuts away part of the hill the mine is dug into. A degraded wooden scaffold still stands around the mouth, but it’s clear that this mine hasn’t been used for its original purpose for some time.

You have quite a ways to walk to get back to the city; you’re close to the farm that Sombra showed off on his tour of the city. You trot across the green fields and onto the dirt path before following it back to the city. You take in the scenery in this brief moment of solitude. A few animals, bunnies and birds fly and run across the fields. It almost makes you forget the bloody civil war currently happening under the surface.

The dirt soon gives way to the crystal. The guards don’t pay much attention to the roads; the rebels must have another way of getting into the city. Considering their entrenched position underground it isn’t unreasonable to presume that they have some kind of tunnel system running under the city and have completely forgone the direct approach. It’s a good strategy considering their ability to infiltrate the hanging and blend into the crowd.

You approach the Palace, the mess from the battle still scattered across the ground. They haven’t had the opportunity to clean it up yet. Blood stains still spread across the formerly pristine ground. The door is now guarded; the two ponies stationed there gawp as you walk up to them casually. “May I enter?” you ask as if nothing was up.

They look to each other for a moment. “Okay, but you’ll need to talk to the King straight away.”

The other nods and opens the door, motioning for you to follow him back to the throne room.

Sombra lets out a mighty yawn from his seat on the crystal throne. Without Rose around it was dreadfully boring. Picking on the help wasn’t as fun as the flustered mare he’d been toying with for the past month.

Sombra knew full well the risk associated with letting Rose of the leash, the potential for her to be switch to the other side. He grimaces as he remembers his brother’s reaction to the news of her capture. Unbeknownst to the short sighted unicorn, this was an important step in bring them down. He wrote out new plans in his head for every situation all the time, to make sure he was one step ahead of everypony else.

Mild hubris aside, Sombra knew exactly how to keep Rose on a short chain for the time being. Not only would it cause her to falter in undermining him, but it would benefit him too. All pretenses of keeping the relationship solely professional, or master and slave in this case, were flung out of the window as soon as Fury set his sights on her too. Luckily he already had a head start on the mage.

He looked out of one of the stained glass windows running down the room. They weren’t always like that, before the rebellion they were open for all to enter and exit. Most didn’t out of courtesy for the various nobles and citizens waiting for an audience. It provided a valuable way for guards to dart between the ground and the throne room so they could keep him in the know.

Rose… a fanged grin split his calm façade. What a perfect little guinea pig, proficient in a form of forbidden magic none of the others had demonstrated. He had struck gold. But now he had to wait in the hopes that she hadn’t perished under the eye of those rebels. It was a fairly safe bet to say they hadn’t executed such a high value target; they do have spies among his staff after all filling them in on all the gritty details.

Maybe the guards should pay them a visit, a nice way to build reliance on their new, weakest link.

His scheming is interrupted by a knock at his grand door. He had asked the guards to leave him alone unless something important happened. “Enter,” he shouts down the long hall. The guard pushes open the door and allows you in; he doesn’t follow after you, having to return to his post at the front door.

Sombra looks surprised at your sudden arrival. You get the distinct feeling that he knows exactly what happened and has some malicious ideas in mind for your new position. It this case it seems the only winning move is not to play.

“How good to see you again,” he begins with false sincerity, “I was hoping you’d escape from the grasp of those rebels before something awful befell you.”

He sweeps onto the floor and wraps a hoof around your neck like you’re a pair of old friends, quite unlike him. He holds his smile for a moment, dropping it when he notices your unamused glare. “You’re an asshole,” you jab.

His face clenches, “Nice to see you too.” He drops the act and returns to his throne, resting his head on a leg as if he were bored. “I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t do anything about your capture?”

“Naturally.”

“I’m afraid that I couldn’t spare the resources to rescue you. There was quite the battle raging after you were moved and I had to make sure my guard could handle it.”

You study his expression for a minute, noticing a slight falter as you remain silent. “What’s the real reason?”

He laughs a loud, rapturous belly laugh. It catches you off guard considering his humorless demeanor. You stand there, baffled as he tries to calm himself down. “You’re good, really good. You saw right through me didn’t you? Most others wouldn’t dare to ask again.” He takes a deep breath and wipes his face. “I must apologize, that was most unbecoming of me.”

“You wanted them to make me their informant didn’t you?”

“Naturally! I can’t just imprison all those nasty little weasels running around my palace without giving them a suitable replacement first. It’d be rude of me,” he grins, picking at one of his hooves with another. “Listen closely dear, I will not repeat this. Do not give them the information they want or else there will be consequences, are we clear?”

You nod.

“Good,” he shakes a hoof at the door, “you may leave, and dinner is being prepared as we speak. So come to the dining room in half an hour.”

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it,” you mutter sarcastically as you walk down the corridors to your room. The guards have been moved away from your door, a small comfort knowing that Sombra at least trusts you enough to walk around unattended. You open the door to your room and flop down onto the bed, your day isn’t even over yet and you feel like death.

Author's Note

annnnd we're back

That collar is pretty stubborn, wonder how Sombra managed that?

I'm going to be pretty busy for a little while, so some chapters might take a bit longer to come out. Sorry!

In the next chapter Rose has a lovely dinner date with Sombra (really) and she gets to chill with the rest of super rad mage's guild.

Candle Light

A short nap is all you get before the door is nearly knocked over by the guards. You gingerly rise from the bed and move to open the door, revealing, much to your surprise, another pair of guards. Going through the motions you shuffle along with them to the dining hall. “Stay here,” one of them says indifferently before moving into the room. You can hear the guard and who you presume to be Sombra through the door.

The guard comes back after a minute or two, “You can go in now.” He trots off with his partner in crime, leaving you to wonder what’s so special about tonight. You open the door and notice right of the bat that the lights have been dimmed, leaving the room in comfortable darkness. A flashy set of candles illuminate the table, which has been covered with a flawless white sheet.

Only two normal chairs have been set across from each other. Your eye twitches slightly at the implication. You growl and reluctantly sit down on one of the seats, awaiting the inevitable arrival of the big headed King. He was talking to the guard a moment ago, where is he now?

The door you entered through opens once more, allowing a temporary flood of light to fill the room. It’s Sombra, and for some awful reason he has a rose clenched between his teeth like he’s about to perform some kind of cheesy waltz. What actually surprises you is the lack of his trademark crown and cape, leaving him bare for the first time.

Well, at least he put some effort into this.

You still can’t catch a glimpse of his cutie mark from this angle; you silently urge him to hurry his little routine up so you can see it. With a confident stride he walks to the table, sliding into his spot across from you. The rose floats from his mouth towards you, you put what little knowledge you have of levitation to use and take it from him with an awkward smile.

“It’s… lovely,” you say in an attempt to placate him. Silently you’re kind of flattered that he’d do all this romantic stuff, but it’s overtaken by simmering anger at the nerve of him for doing so just a few hours after letting you get taken prisoner by potentially hostile rebels. You get the feeling that he doesn’t have quite as much control or assurance as he lets on, and there was equal chance of them killing you on the spot rather than arresting you.

You carefully place the delicate rose next to your plate. No need to seem ungrateful about it and cause a big scene. “What let this on?” you ask, stricken by his sudden need to set up a romantic dinner with you.

“Nothing at all dear, I just felt like a little reward was in order for your efforts so far,” he bullshits. He probably thinks he’s going to get his dick wet by the end of this. Your idea of a reward or in this case an apology dinner isn’t usually accompanied with having dinner with the megalomaniac who’s nearly killed you multiple times.

“You decided that having a cheesy romantic dinner with you was exactly what I wanted after getting captured?”

“It was a spur of the moment idea,” he admits. “Although I dare say that I had planned on something like this beforehoof, so we can have a personal discussion for once.”

“I can barely contain my excitement,” you respond dryly.

“No need to be so sour about the whole thing. There are no expectations to meet here, I just feel like you and I need to reach a greater understanding.”

“About?”

“Each other,” he scoffs. “What else is there to understand? It’s easy to state your motivations, but painting a picture of somepony in your mind is a long distance from actually knowing them. I could tell you that I desire to keep my empire peaceful, and free from the grip of the royal sisters, but that won’t change things. You already think you know exactly how I work.”

“Is this a two way street? I don’t have much to say for myself I’m afraid.” Sombra ponders for a moment, his eyes darting away from your own.

“Maybe, the extent of our acquaintance depends solely on how much you wish to say,” his eyes meet yours once again, a hidden insistence beneath the emerald irises. “If you do, this will be a quiet dinner indeed.”

The last thing you want to do is give Sombra more information about yourself, the intent is clear as day. He wants to know more about you so you can be easier to control if things go awry. But a niggling little voice pipes up in your head, shouting at you about the opportunity to find out more about the mysterious stallion, and about the conflict which you’ve become an unwitting participant in. What more could he know about you anyway?

“Fine, we’ll talk as long as you give me straight answers.”

“I am a stallion of my word; there will be no deceit this evening,” he holds a hoof to his chest, puffing it out like a territorial bird. You find some small amusement in the appropriate stance for such a pompous idiot.

A waiter stallion steps up to him, complete with a little cloth over his arm. Sombra deflates and leans back into his seat. “What would you like to order sir?”

“I would like a tuna salad and some of our oldest red wine, if you’d please.”

Tuna salad? You haven’t seen anything remotely close to meat since you arrived, after that bacon from your old apartment you hadn’t had the nerve to ask. “It’s an acquired taste,” he says, dismissing your unasked question.

“For the lady?” The waiter asks, jotting down the order on a small notepad with a quill. Why not? You ate meat before, so what’s stopping you now? Beside the potential for it tasting like piss covered sawdust like the bacon.

“The same, actually.”

Sombra actually looks surprised for once, but the waiter doesn’t bat an eye. He must be used to Sombra keeping odd company. “Very good,” the stallion mutters, walking back into the kitchen. Sombra seems to mull over your desire for animal flesh for a moment.

“You desire the same as me? How peculiar.”

“I used to do it all the time back home, I didn’t know it was available.”

“I presume your old race readily consumed meat, predators perhaps?”

“Not so much, we had farms too you know. I thought you’d have known things like this.” The waiter hustles back into the room with a bucket full of ice and the red wine Sombra had ordered. With a little bow he popped the cork and poured a small measure into both of your glasses before hastily leaving once again.

“I have to admit,” he begins, taking a sip of the strong wine, “you aren’t the first I have brought from beyond the veil. A few preceded you.”

You stop lifting the glass to your lips and scowl at him, “What?”

He bites his tongue, before quietly responding. “You weren’t the first creature I brought from beyond our world. The others demonstrated some small inkling of intelligence, a dull candle in a dark room, which is what attracted me to them. In the body of a pony, I discovered they were little more than animals. Licking themselves and defecating on the floor.”

“…”

“Don’t look at me like that; imagine it from my own perspective. There I was, spending another long night in my study; when I see it, that shining light in the void. The others were plain to see, but nothing too striking. You, you were a star in comparison to them, enough to enflame the void and draw my admiration.”

He looks away breathlessly, “Truly a grand moment, indeed.”

You would call having your genitals stolen very grand, but you decide to ignore his posturing. Thankfully two plates of food are slid into place before he could annoy you further with tales about him kidnapping you across dimensions. A carefully arranged tuna salad lies in front of you with fresh pink meat forming an island, surrounded by a sea of fresh green lettuce and peppered with the occasional juicy tomato.

You look up to see the King already floating a fork full into his muzzle. He looks like he’s enjoying it a bit too much for your comfort. “Delicious.” He whispers, his long tongue flicking across his sharp teeth. He looks down to you expectantly.

You shift your gaze back down to the salad in an attempt to mask your discomfort. You hastily life your fork and stab down into the tuna, lifting it to your own mouth. It smells different from what you’re used to thanks to these new pony senses. You hesitate after your experience with the old bacon from your fridge, but Sombra looks really eager to see you eat it for some reason, his gaze glued to the tip of the fork.

The strong and long forgotten taste of the sea hits your sensitive taste buds as pieces of the flaky tuna break off onto your tongue. Unlike the rancid taste of the bacon from your apartment, the tuna is actually nice and you find it perfectly possible to swallow. Sombra simply watches in fascination as you mull over the new taste that your body brings.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he says, falling back into his chair. “It took me a good long while to get used to the idea of eating meat, but an old griffon friend of mine was quite insistent that I try it. I’ve been hooked ever since, but finding it is another story all together, the voluntary blockade on the city has caused us to make a good few sacrifices.” He says while living in an opulent castle, his every beck and call answered to by his own personal maids.

You roll your eyes and focus on the salad, still sore about his casual referral to his magical experiments. Sombra displays a startling sense of social awareness as he quiets down, a small inkling of remorse on his face. “I do suppose this isn’t the best subject to bring up over dinner, let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes, let’s.”

But instead you’re met with an awkward silence. The candle flickers orange light across the room, occasionally illuminating it just enough for you to get a good look at his face. You have to admit Sombra is quite handsome in the typical square jaw kind of way. In fact you wouldn’t be afraid to admit it if you weren’t on such bad terms with him. Even then romance is the last thing on your mind as of late, would you even want to date such a monster?

Sombra seems to think so, or else he wouldn’t have set up this swanky little dinner. There are some things you like about him, like your little games of insult tennis, or the occasional joke that isn’t at your expense, but it’s completely outweighed by all of the bad shit he’s put you through as of late. Watching him execute those prisoners brought out something in him you don’t wish to see again; his anger, untamed and unmeasured by those around him.

His zealous dedication to “protecting” the citizens of the empire would be admirable if it weren’t for the selfish motivations behind it. He needs to keep the people happy under the guise of protection. He tells them about the scary royal sisters knocking on their front door, like a story told to foals to scare them away from being naughty, so they won’t go running to them for help.

Maybe, just maybe they are as he describes. Expansionist conquerors, who want nothing more than to bring the entire pony race under their metal clad hooves. You don’t know, because you haven’t seen them for yourself. You can’t take his word for it.

Your musing is interrupted by a rather quiet, “I’m sorry,” escaping from Sombra’s mouth. “Is there any way I can atone for my misdeeds?”

“I don’t know, there are a lot of things you could do.” He doesn’t seem to be satisfied by your answer.

“Like?” He rolls a hoof for you to go on.

You lean forward, “What’s the point in me just telling you? You won’t learn if you don’t look back on your own mistakes.” With that you move to leave, but just before you cross the threshold of the door you look back on the King, who seems to be deep in thought. You finally get a look at his cutie-mark too, a simple purple diamond.

How quaint.

Author's Note

destiny has killed me

Boy this one took a while to do, I've been quite busy this week so I couldn't get the finishing touches on this chapter in a timely manner. Also character development!

Reminisce

You collapse back onto the soft covers of your queen sized bed. Your heart is still banging against your chest after telling him off like that, it’s rare you ever get the opportunity to get him back. Maybe you should test the limits of his patience so you can do it more often. You roll over onto your stomach and inhale the flowery smell of the freshly cleaned sheets.

Your tail flicks in agitation, he has a lot of nerve trying to get you back into his good graces after something like that, you could have died! A meek cough pulled you from your anger, you looked over to the door to find Warm stood there in apparent shock.

“Oh my goodness! You’re back!” she exclaims, running over and wrapping herself around your sensitive middle. “I thought he’d left you out there with them!” You wince slightly as your still tenderized stomach throbs in pain, but you humor her and return the embrace.

“I’m still okay Warm, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” you jest, but from the look on her face the joke falls short.

“Don’t go saying things like that,” she scolds like a mother telling off a child wailing in a supermarket. She releases you and hops onto the bed next to you. Silence descends onto the room as she scuffs a hoof against the floor.

“Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.” She nods slightly. Her eyes slip back down onto your bandaged body every so often.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little, I’ll live.”

“I can’t help but feel like it’s partly my fault you got captured.”

“Why?”

“If I wasn’t hiding in the corner during the fight, you wouldn’t have had to come find me. You could have run back into the palace… but you didn’t.” She’s right, you didn’t. You stuck your neck out for one of the few friends you have in this hellhole.

“Don’t blame yourself Warm. I chose to come find you, and it was ultimately my actions that got me caught. They wouldn’t have touched you anyway.” Well, at least some of that was true. If Sombra had actually kept his damn security in line neither of you would be having this conversation. She remains silent, before deciding to change the subject.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she smiles softly.

“Me too,” you nudge her with a leg. You actually manage to get a small giggle out of her this time. Her mood lifted you relax, it wasn’t a good feeling to have such an emotional conversation with a close friend after something like that; it felt good to get it off your chest now rather than later.

You fall back onto the bed, bringing her with you. She chirps in surprise as you pull her down leaving you both staring at the ceiling

“Hey!”

“You need to relax; we’ve both had a stressful few days.”

“Because of the attack?” She sighs, letting herself sink into the soft mattress.

“Worse, Sombra tried to wine and dine me,” you shudder with mock dread in your voice.

“Really?” Warm looks at you in disbelief, “right after getting you captured? I don’t understand that stallion sometimes.”

“I don’t think we ever will, just between you and me, he’s a bit crazy.” You shake your head, before twisting to look at Warm. “I bet he thinks I’ll sleep with him.”

“No…” She scoffs.

“Yeah! Why else would he set up a little romantic dinner?”

“He has a good sense of humor?”

“The stallion who just a few hours ago was about to hang somepony in front of the public, has a good sense of humor?”

“Good point.”

You found your way back onto the sofa, continuing your small talk. With Warm’s appointment as your personal assistant it means she can spend much more time with you, a fact she seems very pleased with. The excitement and dread of the fight from earlier seems to fade away as you both talk about nothing important. It’s a welcome break from espionage and conflict.

You don’t have anything else to do today, but your conversation falls dreadfully short. Without divulging details about your past life you don’t have much to say. “Still reading into the paranormal?”

“Yep! I’ve moved on to the more advanced stuff too. Did you know it’s possible for spirits to affect the real world, rumor has it that wendigoes are actually vengeful dead, looking for those who wronged them.”

“I guess those things are pretty common around here in the north?” You ask, suddenly conscious of being frozen to death.

“There’s a lot of snow and a lot of hatred running through this city, it’s only natural they’d come here. The shield keeps them out, so some good does come from it. We used to learn emergency drills for when they came rampaging through back in school,” a ghost of a smile touches her lips, “I never knew we had it so good back then.”

“Before this war?”

Her smiles droops into a frown, her eyes drift to the floor. “Yeah… before the war. I wish those rebels would just give it up already, things were fine before they started stirring things up. Then me and my brother could go back to our old home and not have to stay in this castle.”

Your ears perk up, “You have a brother?”

“Did I not mention him before? He works in the guard, but he used to be a barkeeper. I wish he could go back to doing that, but the shield stopped him from importing his best beer and his bar had to close. He was drafted into the guard when this thing started.”

“They must draft a lot of ponies.”

“They have to, it’s dangerous work and ponies die all the time. They pin a list of mortalities outside of the barracks. Every day I wake up and hope he won’t be one of them, I even check the list every morning just to be sure.”

Wow, this took a real turn for the morbid. You wrap a hoof around her shoulder as she becomes misty eyed. “I looked up to him as a filly. Our family has a long history of catering and tending to others, and he managed to open his own business, serving all of his customers with a smile. I followed after him, working in the family hotel as one of our best maids.”

“I want to go back to then, when we could stay together as a family. If these bucking rebels didn’t show up I’d still be with them.”

“Is that why you support him?”

She nods, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I know he’ll win one day, he always does. Those rebels don’t really have a chance. So that’s why I’m here, pitching in, in all the little ways I can; so we can go back home.”

You don’t really like having the mare sobbing on your shoulder. Maybe telling her something about yourself will help her calm down.

“That’s a good reason, Warm. More than you think.”

“Really?”

“Family is important, they should be your priority. I didn’t have any family myself, and I was miserable to say the least.” Well it’s not exactly right, you did have family. But at the age you reached and your interactions with them, they were more like acquaintances than beloved family members you could rely on in times of need. Hell, you’re actually kind of jealous.

“I sat at home all day, occasionally going out to work at my boring job for next to no pay. I came back home, slept and did it all over again. But then… then Sombra got me and brought me here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, he’s going every direction but straight. He could change his mind overnight for all I know. He just kidnapped me and here I am.”

“…Weren’t you miserable though? How is this place so much worse? You get a fancy new room and a place next to the King, all kinds of excitement…”

“-but it’s the wrong kind of excitement!” You interrupt. “I don’t want to be at risk all day; I want to go to bed at night knowing that I’ll be safe from some assassin trying to murder me. I don’t want to be tossed into the middle of all this!”

You catch yourself, you were getting louder there. Warm stays silent as you measure your breath. “I want to go home,” you shake your head, “that’s all.”

“Some ponies would kill to be in your place, you have the power to change this entire-“

“And I’m not one of them. I’m no hero, I’m not some messiah who’s going to fix everyone’s problems; I’m just an idiot with no idea where to go next. I’m just a normal pony, like you and your brother.”

With that you turn away in a huff, unwilling to continue this angle any longer; Warm shuffles in her seat as she thinks of something to rectify the situation.

“Sorry.” She whispers, “I got ahead of myself. I shouldn’t put so much pressure on you.”

You turn back to face her. “It’s alright, I understand why’d you want me to be that pony, but I’m not. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. Don’t make me your only hope in this, you’ll end up disappointed.” Warm nods along solemnly.

Damn it, you’ve made her sad now. “You know what? Let’s go visit the library for a while, don’t have anything better to do.”

“Are you trying make up with me now?”

“Maybe?” You say unsure of her intention.

Warm chuckles under her breath. “Alright, let’s go down and read for a while.”

You have to admit coming to the library was a little mistake. Warm was more than happy to pour through every book in the paranormal section for the third time, but you are much less enthusiastic about the “History of Specters: a Retrospective Guide”. Warm was blissfully unaware of your self-inflicted boredom, instead tossing over the occasional fact about wendigoes to be stored in your mind and forgotten.

Better than being imprisoned, at least.

You decide to break off for a moment and look through some of the nearby categories yourself. Who knows you might find something useful. To the left of the paranormal collection is the history shelves, jam packed with large, dusty books. You need something a bit lighter than that.

To the right is a small collection of books of different species. These are noticeably smaller and less dusty showing that they still receive some use. Your eyes scan from side to side until you come across a black book with green threading. It seems to have a good middle ground between length and brevity. You pull it away from the shelf and attempt to hobble back to the reading table on three legs before you remember that you have magic. With an embarrassed glance around the empty room you wrap it in your red aura and gently place it onto the wooden table where Warm is buried in a large book about the occult.

They really do have a book for everything.

You look at your own choice, “A beginners guide to changelings” is written in green cursive with little other decoration. Good choice, changelings were always a fascinating idea in the show and you can’t wait to find out about them in more detail.

You skip past the index, assuming that the book runs in chronological order. Unfortunately that doesn’t seem to be the case, despite being advertised as a beginner’s book it seems to skip the formalities and delves straight into methods of spotting changeling spies.

Still, it might be useful information to have with your new introduction into the world of political intrigue. You never know if a changeling spy is following you disguised as a guard after all. “Pick up that fork” is the first subheading to draw your attention, what an odd title.

“Pick up that fork is a commonly used trick by the equestrian military, which uses communal mess halls in order to feed troops. Pegasi and Earth pony soldiers are often targeted by changelings due to their relative vulnerability in comparison to their unicorn companions, as they cannot use magic to call for help or fight of their attacker. As a result they are often first call for a changeling spy.

The idea behind pick up that fork is to bring out a reaction from the changeling’s magic. Despite their appearance changelings retain the ability to use magic when in the form of a hornless race. The compulsion to use magic as a fast reaction leads to them revealing their true nature.

A common usage of this is for a soldier to drop a fork or other piece of cutlery onto the floor away from themselves, before asking the suspected spy to pick it up. This is where this practice earned its distinct and humorous title. In some battalions it has evolved into a common joke or prank to play on others.

This method is not widely adopted or recognized by any modern military force. Several shortcomings limit the viability of this trick, not counting the numerous other tests or spells which can be used to dispel a disguise. Changelings also became readily aware of this, and trained themselves to avoid it; some going so far as to use magic restricting rings to stop the reflex

Historically the majority of changelings actually discovered via this method were done completely by accident. The most infamous of which being the discovery that Chancellor Puddinghead had been replaced by a spy, after the changeling in question used magic to stop a cake from falling from a nearby trolley. The changeling was quickly interrogated and executed, and the original Chancellor located within a nearby cave.”

What an odd thing to document, the rest of the page just covers things like detector spells. You flip over to the next the page to find a list of combat techniques. You read through them, but your mind keeps falling back to that particular passage. You get the feeling that this book isn’t quite as accurate as it lets on. From then on you notice other little errors, like the vivid description of “acid spit” that sounds like something ripped from Alien, or the extremely out of place description of the holes in their limbs (and what they’re used for) which you shudder to repeat out loud.

You skip the rest of the book and go to the index at the back. There no kind of sourcing or research mentioned, and the author has omitted his own name from the thing. You look over the Warm, who’s still muzzle deep in her occult book.

“What kind of crap is this? Is this even right?”

She looks over to you and down the book you’re reading, recognition lighting up her eyes. “Oh! That book. It was written back when everypony was really afraid of changelings, so they exaggerated their abilities, and tossed some weird satirical stuff in there too to try and demean them. I’m pretty sure that the author just wanted to make a quick bit.”

“So why’s it in the library if it’s incorrect?” You ask bewildered.

Warm sighs, “This library’s full of stuff like that. They take what they can get thanks to the shield around the Empire. You just have to keep a watchful eye out for them.”

Fantastic, a library full of bullshit. Kind of poetic when you think about it. With a sigh you fold up the book and take it back to the self you grabbed it from. You decide to get one with an author's name on it this time. "A brief history of minotaurs" catches your eye. It's thicker than the other one, and considering how much Warm still wants to go through you could probably read it all in one sitting.

You plot yourself back down onto the chair and prepare for a few hours of learning. If you're going to be stuck in the library all day, may as well learn something.

Author's Note

This took me way too long to write, damn writers block.

The Motions

The Motions

You were pulled away from your reading session by the arrival of another guard, who hastily informed you of the upcoming training session for your magic. Warm didn’t even seem to notice as you told her you were leaving for a while. She was too busy burying herself into the selection of paranormal books.

Sombra’s training sessions seem like a distant memory after recent events, but you know for a fact that it was only a few days ago he had you boiling buckets of water to teach you about variable manipulation. You were grateful for them, but you’d never admit it to his face. You haven’t found much opportunity to use your new abilities. An in the once case you did use them it resulted in the “accidental” killing of a rebel.

Your musing leaves you on autopilot and before you know it you’re back out onto the dirty training field. You’re picking up on the castle layout much faster than you expected, mainly thanks to the new freedom you’ve been given. Sombra Is already here waiting patiently, two fresh metal buckets at either side of him. You stop in place as you notice the crimson liquid that fills them, is that blood?

He follows your gaze down to his left, “Oh, how silly of me. Today, we are going to elaborate on your talents, with some real blood magic.” A book is placed in front of you, a deep gray with red trim. “Blood Magic” is hastily scribbled on the front in what seems to be white paint. It’s dried incorrectly with streaks of run off smearing the leather cover.

“Not the most professional looking piece of literature, but this is one of the few remaining copies in existence, the other being locked away somewhere in a Canterlot vault. The others unknowingly held by collectors and opulent nobles who don’t realize what they’ve bought. This particular book has quite the history behind it.”

“What do you want to teach me?” You ask, cutting to the point. He quirks a brow before letting out a breath into the cool air.

“A lot of things. Most ponies don’t know the true applications of blood magic, it’s been a well-kept secret buried by the sisters for centuries. Most are simple minded towards it much like the dark magic that I have mastered, it’s considered evil.”

“Evil?”

“They make it seem very black and white. Dark magic is only used to corrupt and destroy, blood magic is only used to enslave or kill. It plays perfectly into their hooves. The parents tell tales at night about the dark magic user hidden under their bed, a self-perpetuating system to spread fear among their populace and build support for their war campaign against me.

I can only presume they’ll do the same to you. They don’t know about your potential yet. You need to learn everything you can before that happens, because they will come for you, just as they have come for me.”

He levitates one of the buckets onto the target range motioning for you to line up with it. You take your place at the firing line and wait for his instruction. He walks next to you, his magic flipping through the pages of the makeshift book. “How do you know they’ll come for me? Can’t I just hide my magic from them?”

He shakes his head between the covers. “Of course not, they’ll find you out eventually; perhaps by a chance reflex while in your presence or a simple accusation from one of the elite. There’s a good reason as to why there are no known blood mages left, they slaughtered them. They don’t see the pony behind the magic, they only see the aura. According to them the only ponies who can use such magic are inherently evil or chaotic.”

“I’m not evil!” You protest.

“But by your simple presence between the veils of our worlds, you are a creature of chaos. Whether or not that grants you the ability to use this magic is another question entirely. These are questions you can answer in your own time, but believe me when I say that the benevolent sisters will not grant you the mercy I have.”

Déjà vu, this is the same conversation you had with him the first time. You need to stop repeating yourself so much. “Can we get to training then?” You ask.

He nods, “Pay close attention to what I say, these spells are much more advanced than anything you’ve done before, and you may need to practice over weeks in order to learn them properly.”

Much to your surprise the training was actually really easy. Sombra seemed surprised at your aptitude himself, commenting on your natural talent. The spells themselves weren’t anything flashy, certainly not worth the buildup he gave them during his explanations.

First off was a spell not far removed from the levitation you had tentatively used over the course of your stay. According to Sombra levitating blood should have been difficult due to its liquid properties; forcing the user to twist and manipulate their levitation field to the contours of the blob, or just brute force it by surrounding it in a box.

Not for you, in fact you found it even easier than usual. Sombra didn’t say anything, but you could tell from the twitch on his frown that he hadn’t thought you’d pick it up so rapidly. You can’t imagine it was because it was ruining his schedule.

He chewed his lip for a moment before flipping past a few more pages. He smiled triumphantly as he found something he was sure you couldn’t do.

“Blood sight, a difficult spell. It gives the user the ability to enchant a volume of blood and use it to look out from others. This spell saw much use on the battlefields before it was outlawed.” His magic pulls one of the buckets to you, leaving it a few inches away from your body.

“Look to your target, the other bucket down range. Then, look down into the reflection and will it to be your eyes into the world.”

Vague as always and not much help you think in annoyance. You do what he says, looking over to the far blood bucket, and then down into your reflection in the one in front of you. “Will it to be your eyes?” You whisper, focusing intently on the two locations.

Channeling the magic, still unsure of yourself, you push the energy down onto the surface of the red liquid. With the field in mind you imagine looking out from the other bucket.

For a moment nothing happens, but just before you give up to try again you notice that a subtle change has occurred in the reflection. Instead of your curious visage the reflection is now pointing to a blue sky.

That’s it? Underwhelming is the word you’d use. Either way Sombra is impressed. “You truly are a natural at this. That Rose cutie mark must have a hidden meaning I do not understand.”

“My full name is Blood Rose, is it not?” You quip in a posh accent, remembering that little detail from the story you read back at home.

“Ah, of course. How could I forget? Even still, you have an amazing capacity to learn, or maybe you are a very lucky mare and all of these successes were simply flukes?”

“Flukes that happen one after another in succession? Not likely.” You boast.

“Pride doesn’t suit you,” he mutters under his breath unaware that you can clearly hear him.

It turned out that those two spells were the only ones he had prepared for; acting under the assumption that it would take you the latter half of a day to preform them correctly. He gave you a small congratulation and trotted away without a word with the blood filled buckets in his grip. You decide to go back down the library and see if Warm has finished her reading queue. Along the way you spot Fury hurrying himself past you to an unknown destination.

Maybe you can go seem him after you chat with Warm. You want to learn more about this mystery cabal you’ve been inducted to suddenly and without explanation. Did he explain it before? You vaguely remember Fury talking about your unique magical talent. That makes sense. He wants to have the world’s only blood mage in his ranks.

You stop for a moment, just outside the library doors. You do all work under Sombra though, he shouldn’t need to.

Pushing the thought from your mind you trot over to Warm, who amazingly has managed to dig through the pile and is currently reading the final book. “You should have been a librarian or something,” you comment, nodding to the stack of discarded literature.

Warm jumps out of her trance. “I always enjoyed reading,” she says flipping to the next page, “it was a cheap hobby and money was usually tight back home. I got really good at it because I went to the library a lot, and had to scan through the books to finish before they closed for the day.”

“Couldn’t you just go there the next day?”

“Not when I was busy, and sometimes ponies took out the books I was partway through, I hate loose ends.” She sighs, closing the last book and placing it on top of the others. “What do you wanna’ do now?”

“I was thinking of going to see Fury for a while, you can do whatever you want really.”

Warm smiles, “Oh! That’s good; I might stay here for a little while longer then.” You nod and turn to leave, “Wait!” She whispers. You swivel in place back to meet her. Her eyes shift from left to right, looking for guards. “I found something that you might like.”

She reaches over and pulls an unmarked, red covered book from her pile. She places it down onto the table and slides it over to you. “I managed to smuggle this away back when they were re-arranging the library, sometimes they throw them out to keep things hidden. I was curious so I kept it. It’s a detailed book on the history of blood magic!”

You open the cover, “Blood Magic” is written in a similar style to the book Sombra held. This must be his go-to book on the subject, Warm has it. So he must have had to make do with that ratty makeshift one instead. “You could get into trouble for this.” You whisper harshly, suddenly conscious of the area around you.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them. They have another copy somewhere anyway.” She reasons.

You chew your lip in thought. Do you want to take the risk? Subverting Sombra isn’t anything new, but this could lead back to incriminate Warm instead of yourself. “Just take the thing,” she scoffs. She pulls herself from the table and begins to pull the other books into her arms. “I have to go put these back on the shelves, just take a little peak and then hide it somewhere. They don’t check up on this place anymore.”

She doesn’t give you time to argue back as she carts off into the jungle of wooden shelves, leaving you along in the quiet hall. You look down to the book, and as if it were going to bite you hesitantly turn to the first page. When it doesn’t kill you with some ancient case you visibly deflate, and with one last self-conscious look around the room, begin to read.

The book isn’t nearly as exciting as you were expecting it to be, considering how “illegal” it is in Warm’s own words. Nothing from the book screams at you to be censored by a dictator, simply delving into various blood magic users and how they affected history. One thing the book does say is what kind of things you can do with it.

Initially it’s quite tame, leading on from the things Sombra has taught you personally over the last few weeks. But then it begins to divulge into things much darker than you initially imagined.

It was no secret that you boiled your assailants blood in his veins, that much you figured out. But the book forgoes simply listing what the spell is, but it also lists some common uses; “Torture” being the primary heading.

“Blood Mages are infamous for their ability to boil internal organs and fluids. Their reach into the body is unmatched by any other, making them exclusive candidates for true, magic based torture. Under duress of dying a painful death at the hands of a skilled blood mage, enemy soldiers will spill their greatest secrets.” You shake your head and turn the page, hoping for something less horrible.

“Puppeteering is a highly advanced skill in which a blood magic user exerts their will upon another, and using the ability of blood control (Page 46) are capable of forcing them to preform acts upon their behalf…”

You slam the book shut. You should take a break from reading. You open the front cover and look at the index, instead deciding to skip the skills segment and simply read up on some history. Considering the grim subject matter it’s pretty boring aside from the occasional footnote about the mutilation technique used.

After a few minutes of reading you’re firmly convinced that this book doesn’t’ hold anything of note, no new spells, no useful information, nothing. The final page has a list of notable blood magic users from recent history not mentioned in the long summary. Every single one of the names has an associated date of birth and date of death.

An unsettling pattern soon emerges; the vast majority of them were killed on the same date of “3rd cycle, 15th day, 163 BLR”. A few survivors are taken out soon after. You don’t understand the pony date system, but you presume that this was a long time ago. BLR? “Before Luna Return” perchance?

You move onto the glossary, scouring it for any mention of the date. You find one reference, page 206. You move back, keeping a close eye on the page number. “210, 209, 208, 207, 204… 204?” You whisper. You hole the page in a hoof, keenly aware of the obviously torn out page at the binder.

Somebody didn’t want people looking up that date, but it’s fairly obvious that some kind of focused effort to eliminate blood magic had occurred. Both from the vast number of deaths and the torn out page trying to cover it up, Sombra’s story must have had some level of truth to it.

“A lot of these books are incorrect,” you remind yourself, remembering your conversation with Warm. But if the events were forcibly censored like this, there must have been some truth to it, a truth the culprit didn’t want getting out.

You look back to the list for any more clues, but beyond the dates that you can potentially cross reference there’s little else to pick up. You scan the list of names for anything familiar, your eyes widening in shock as a recognizable name meets your gaze. You let out a squeak before shakily reading it out loud.

“Silver Shield, 1st cycle, 1st day, 206 BLR - 3rd cycle, 15th day, 163 BLR”

Author's Note

something foul is afoot in the empire

Forgive me for any errors, I gave this one a big push to get it done today.

Scant Few Answers

The blood drains from your face as you slowly close the old tome. Silver was a blood mage? Is he really dead too? He can’t be! You saw him back in the rebel base. The book must be wrong; they didn’t find his body afterwards. It makes a lot more sense than him being a zombie at least, but you defiantly have a few questions to ask of him.

Before that, you need to find somewhere to stash this book; it might come in handy later. You don’t know the library well enough to find a hiding spot for it, but by Warm’s own admission they never check the shelves anymore. The problem is remembering where you put it. The history section seems like a good start, the dusty shelves show that nopony ever touches the neglected books.

You swipe the book from the table and head back, eyes scanning for an empty space. It’s evident that some of the books had been thrown out entirely as several gaps are left behind. The effort to hide the slaughter of the mages goes further than you first thought. You decide to pick the first gap that fits, a criterion that is met just before the end of the shelf.

You slide it into place, making sure to memorize its location among the others, and your own location of the library floor. Once you’re sure you can navigate your way here again you hustle yourself back into the corridor.

Big problem, how are you going to get in contact with Silver? So far he only shows up when he wants to and doesn’t stick around for very long, not long enough for you to probe him. You briefly consider sending a latter through to the rebels asking for him, but they’d probably get mad at you for wasting time and not sending them something useful.

A light bulb goes off above you. You don’t need to ask Silver, you have access to two most important people in the empire, Sombra and Fury. Sombra would be your first choice, but it’s only just reaching sunset and he’ll still be busy in court by now.

You stride to the mages quarters with purpose; you’re going to get to the bottom of this one way or another.

As you walk you can’t help but feel like somepony is keeping a close eye on you, something you haven’t felt for a long while since your first few paranoid nights. Suddenly a feral chill shoots up your spine; you shiver and flip around only to be met with an empty corridor. What the hell was that? It felt like somebody just laid an icepack over your back.

You pull your coat closer to you and move faster, hoping to get away from the invisible prying eyes. It can’t be Sombra again, it’s been made fairly clear over the past few days that he doesn’t have 24/7 surveillance on you, that or he’s being purposefully ignorant in your presence so you don’t catch on. You never know with these ponies.

Your sudden paranoia drives you to the door of the mage quarters in record time. With a still shivering hoof you open the door and walk into the warm embrace of the competitively cozy chambers. Fury is sat at the head of the circular table, pouring over a huge map that covers the entire thing.

A few other unicorns crowd around him, whispering and pointing. The sound of the door slamming shut draws their attention to you. The others seem irritated, but Fury looks happy to see you. With a wide smile he beckons you over.

“Rose, how very nice of you to join us!” He exclaims pulling himself away from the table. The pair of mages stand at attention hearing him speak your name out loud.

"Am I interrupting something?” You ask looking at the map. It’s quite old, with frayed edges of dirtied parchment. Despite this the terrain is still clear to see, it’s a comprehensive recording of the mining tunnels that exist under the empire, and where the rebels have made their home. Several large red crosses are scattered across some of the larger tunnels. This must be part of their effort to find the rebel bases hidden underground.

“No, no, you’re always welcome within these chambers as a member of the guild. What do you need?”

“I’m not staying long,” you hastily inform him, “I just wanted to ask a couple of questions about something I read in the library.”

“Go on,” he nods.

“Well… do you know somepony called Silver Shield?”

Fury’s face clenches in surprise, a strangled noise coming from his open mouth. Clearly he does, to get this kind of reaction. “W-where ever did you hear about him?”

“I found a book about blood magic in the library and gave it a read, and it turns out he was a blood mage from here too. I just wanted to ask if you knew him.” The other mages have silenced themselves, curious about what has their leader so flustered. He sighs.

“Yes. I knew him. He was a close… acquaintance of ours who worked here in the guild. Unfortunately he passed away during the blood mage purge. A shame, he was an extremely powerful blood mage, and with his passing we lost much of our knowledge of the art.”

You look over to the two nosy robe cladded ponies, who notice your gaze and quickly occupy themselves with the map. “Can we take this somewhere a little more private?” You ask, conscious of what you’re about to say. He leads you over to one the side rooms, which turns out to be a small bedroom. A far cry from your extravagant queen sized bed, that’s for sure.

He closes the door and casts a spell, which seeps over the wood like a shimmering liquid. “They’re too curious for their own good sometimes, just an extra precaution.” You remain silent for a minute wondering how to phrase what you’re about to say. A simple approach would be best.

“I saw him.”

“Who?” He asks, turning his back to the door.

“I saw Silver Shield.”

“He’s dead.” He states simply and without delay. “How could you have seen him? He died years ago.”

“He says his name’s Silver Shield.”

He sighs, a thin smirk breaking through his formerly bewildered expression. “That doesn’t mean it’s the same Silver Shield. You’d be surprised at how common the name is.”

“So I’m worrying about nothing? It seems like a pretty big coincidence to me.”

“What do you think is more likely, the dead rising from their grave, or somepony sharing their name with another?” He chuckles, patting your shoulder. You flush in embarrassment.

“I guess that is pretty silly, sorry, I just got a bit wrapped up in the idea.”

“It’s no problem at all. No harm done.” His horn glows again, casting the magic covering the door into a fine mist that dissipates into nothing. “I get the same sometimes. It’s good that you came to me first and didn’t let it run wild. I’ve run into far too many who make that mistake.”

He’s right, what were you thinking? By his own word the guy is long dead. You can’t believe yourself sometimes. One of the mages calls Fury over, pulling him away from you. “Do feel free to come along any time you like, you’re just as much a member as anypony else. If you’ll excuse me.” With a courteous bow he heads back over to the table to consult with his peers.

That wasted a little time, but you’re still no closer to finding out about him. It was obvious from what you read that he was a blood mage, and he was killed during the purge. The purge, which must be what Sombra was talking about back in the yard. Did Celestia and Luna really kill all of the mages? Why is every record of the event censored?

One thing is for sure, they’re hiding something from you; and now you’re determined to find out what it is.

Sombra gazed silently across the room. Court has been adjourned for the day leaving him a small allowance of time, time he often uses to reflect on the events of the day. Good progress has been made, teaching Rose more control. Hardly teaching he sneered in his mind, she’d picked it up without any input from him.

Fury burst through the doors and scampered down the polished floor. “I warned you!” He hollers coming to a stop, “I warned you about that collar!” Sombra’s expression remains set on the opposite wall. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“So? That’s it? We have a serious problem on our hooves and you can’t even give a proper reply.” Fury rants breathlessly. “I ran all the way down here right away just to tell you this, she’s seeing things now. She came up to me and asked me about Sil-“

“Don’t you dare,” Sombra growls causing Fury’s fur to stand on end. “Just don’t.” He slumps back onto his throne.

Fury stands in shocked silence, his breath hitching as his anger flares once again. “That’s it isn’t it? That’s your bucking master plan, just ignore it and hopes it goes away. Why did I expect anything more from you? That’s what you always do!” He shouts without restraint. “I swear on our maker, if you blow this for us… I don’t even know what I’d do.”

“Nothing, I’m in charge.”

“Bullshit.” Fury spits.

Silence falls over the room like still burning embers.

“This… this is our last chance. I expect you to make the right decision; or else I’ll make it for you.”

“Not much of a choice, is it Brother?”

“No, it’s not.”

…

“Very well,” Sombra concedes, “do what you must, but if she steps out of line…”

“I’ll be the one paying for it, very predictable.” With a snort Fury storms away. “I swear on the maker…”

Sombra relaxed once again as the doors closed. An absent sigh came from his mouth as he watched beams of the setting sun spill through the open windows. A long forgotten memory touches at the edge of his conscious, asking to be remembered in full; a happier time perhaps, without the looming clouds of conflict and deceit.

Rose… Rose reminds him; the word and emotion of somepony who isn’t deathly afraid, somepony who isn’t carefully guarded from his barbed words or fearful of reprisal. She opened up to him in a way she doesn’t realize, laying down her honesty to try and get away. A sickly feeling wells up in Sombra’s chest, a faint hint of moisture creeping around his normally dry eyes.

Why does she make him feel like this? Is he really so desperate for the sympathy of another? His brother has been there for him from the start, but even he has drifted away into the crowd. Soon he’ll grow unhappy with Sombra’s rules and ideals.

And then it’ll repeat itself, again, an angered scream, the feeling of cold snow underhoof, and the bloodied face of a fallen brother.

“Silver…”

Helpless.

Author's Note

Sorry for the short length, I really needed to get something out. I've been pretty busy lately, (how many times have I said that now?) and have ended up getting sloppy of my release "schedule".

Don't worry, I'm keeping at it until this story is done and dusted.

Also WHAT A TWIST although you probably saw that one coming from a mile away. (Three sets of armor anyone? No? All that damn foreshadowing is there for a reason.)

Things Not Seen

“Rose, Rose!” Shouts a breathless Fury as he skids to a halt behind you. He takes a big gulp of air, before wiping a hoof across his windswept mane. It hasn’t been that long since you last saw him, you wonder what’s brought him back.

“Hey Fury, what’s up now?”

“Good news!” he smiles. “I got permission from the King to remove that collar.”

“Really?” you ask skeptically, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch at all, it’s just that Sombra has changed his mind on the matter. You know how he is sometimes with his silly ideas.” He cracks a nervous grin. To tell the truth you barely even notice you’re wearing it anymore. You’ve concluded that it doesn’t do anything, so it’s doing no harm. Even so removing that last little vestige of Sombra’s control is an appealing idea.

“Alright, let’s go get that done then.” Before you can ask where he wants to go he shoots off back the way he came, forcing you to play catchup with him.

“What’s the hurry?” You shout.

“I’m a very busy stallion; I have lots of things to do right now.” He responds swerving around a pair of startled maids.

“We can just do this later if you want!”

“I insist that we get it out of the way before I get sidetracked. I appreciate how you’re trying to accommodate for my needs, but we can’t have you in discomfort for any longer.”
He nearly blows the doors from their hinges as he stomps into the mage quarters. The table has been removed from the floor, and a new rectangular one has taken its place. He pats the white cladded table, “Hop on.”

“Why do we need a table?” You say hesitantly pulling yourself onto it.

“I need a lot of leverage to get this thing off.” His horn glows, a set of four magical manacles clasp around your legs and leave you lying on your stomach. You begin to heat up slightly as a nervous itch worms down your back and legs. You discretely struggle against them, but true to his word they don’t have any give.

“This’ll be an easy process; it just takes a lot of magic.” With a grin his horn charges up, ready to begin removing the piece of leather. You feel nowhere near as confident as he sounds. You can only pray to whatever cruel god is watching over you that he knows what he’s doing.

“First, I need to remove the anti-cutting spell.” His horn intensifies. You squint as you feel the tingle of his magic gripping around the collar. “Did you know where we got this thing from? I get the feeling Sombra never told you about these things.”

“N-no, he just put it on me and then never mentioned it again.”

“Typical. No disclosure until the last second. We used to use these down in the mines to keep all of the workers in line.”

“I figured as much.”

“Hmm. Versatile little things, capable of holding powerful enchantments. Some would argue a bit too powerful.” With a grunt you hear a fizzle come from under your chin. “There we go. Where was I? The collars were mass produced by skilled mages and paid for by the crystals mined in the caves, as they crystal had a long list of uses that we mages clamor for.”

Your head jerks forwards slightly. “Sorry, I need to maneuver you. Anyway, sometimes the enchantments were a bit too much and ended up having some nasty side effects. One of the main spells we used was an emotional manipulation spell, which allowed a unicorn guard to pacify violent individuals. Occasionally they’d go overboard and cause permanent damage.”

“What kind of damage?” You ask, very conscious of the slave collar around your neck.

“Don’t tell anypony else, but it’d make them go crazy. I remember one poor fellow who was accidentally hit with an enrage so powerful he bludgeoned himself on the cave wall until he died. The red stain is still there, they couldn’t clean it out so they had to move the slaves further in so they wouldn’t notice.” You remain deathly silent as the morbid story sinks in. You lapse into an awkward silence as the implication of the collar you’ve worn for so long sinks in.

“What do you think of him?” He asks out of the blue.

“Of who?”

“Sombra, you’ve been around him for a while now, so tell me what you think of him.” He hisses slightly as an unseen complication impedes his progress.

“I don’t think too highly of him, to be honest. He kidnaps me, transforms me, puts me in harm’s way, and made the odd decision to try and seduce me.” Fury laughs.

“That sounds like him alright. You should see what some of the others say about him, he doesn’t have too many fans these days.”

“These days?”

He hesitates for a moment, looking over to the three sets of armor stood proudly against the back wall. “Back in the day he was a really popular ruler. A stallion of the people, he’d always be there if you needed an ear to speak to, he’d always listen to the concerns of others, and he always made sure to be firm and fair when somepony did wrong.”

“…So what changed?”

He laughs again bitterly. “A lot of things; I can’t blame him. The conflict with Equestria, all of the fighting… it forced him to change.” He grits his teeth and grunts as his muscles tense slightly. “What in Tartarus? Did somepony put a damn shock spell on this thing?”

“I think so, the rebels tried to take it off when I was captured and got the same thing.”

He stops and takes a deep breath. With fresh determination on his face he tries again only to get the same result. He cries out as he loses control of his muscles. “Ah! Buck!”

Your ear flicks as the sound of rattling armor reaches you. You look over to the three sets of armor to find nothing amiss. “It’s getting stronger!” He pushes out. The rattling intensifies as the blue accented set shakes violently; it sets a hoof forward, before taking shaky steps to the still paralyzed mage.

“Fury! What the fuck is wrong with that armor!” You shout, struggling to escape from your bonds. Your fur stands on end once again as a violent cold front sweeps through the room. A light blue glow begins to seep through the gaps. “Fury let me out!”

A ghastly howl rings out from the glowing set of armor as it shambles towards an alarmed Fury. An ethereal blue spear forms out of thin air as is thrown his way. Fury yelps and barely manages to crawl out of the way, taking partial cover behind the table. “Fury!”

The knight isn’t interested in you. He slowly circles around the table as Fury attempts to regain control of his limbs. You need to buy him some time. You close your eyes and concentrate, bringing your magic reserves to the surface. You don’t know how to deal with this guy, so you resolve to just blast him with as much power as you can.

The knight seems to catch your intentions, and with a short detour he whips a hoof around and slaps your spiky horn with an armored gauntlet. Agony rings through your mind as one thousand migraines hammer into your skull, damn it you can’t cast like this!

Fury finally gets his shit together, hopping back up and ducking as another ethereal lance is swung his way. The clanking of armor and panicked shouting interrupts your moans of agony. Who decided putting something so sensitive out in the open was a good idea? You can’t even reach up to cradle it because…

“Fury let me go!” You grunt once again. He finally seems to listen and the shackles holding you down disappear. The knight swings again forcing Fury to throw himself onto the ground, the knights raises his spear and stabs downwards at the prone pony but he rolls out of the way, starting the cycle anew.

There must be an insane amount of force behind that spear. Several cracks have been left around the perimeter of the table. Whatever, or whoever is trying to get him is going in for the kill. Is this the work of the rebels?

You look around the room for something to help stop the marauding knight, but nothing useful reaches your gaze. Somepony has to be casting a spell on this thing to get it moving, that or somepony is actually inside the armor right now. You need to find the culprit before Fury gets himself gutted.

Fury in a moment of clarity dashes away from the center of the room and barrels into one of the bedrooms. The door slams shut as the Knight makes his way over. He pushes against the wood, but the shimmer of magic on the door shows that he’s casted some kind of spell to keep the murderer out.

You charge up your horn while he’s distracted, this time not hesitating to release a blast of red energy at him. It eclipses the Knight’s body completely, smashing against the magic shield Fury has erected. You maintain it with force for around three seconds before slumping onto the ground, exhausted.

Much to your horror the Knight remains mostly unscathed, the various little flourishes like the blue banners have been burnt away under your power, but the smoking armor remains standing. Agonizingly slowly it turns its head back around to you, seemingly waiting for something. You don’t make any motion, hoping that he’ll ignore you and go back to pounding on the door.

But just as he appeared, he disappeared. The armor falls to pieces and drops onto the ground as if nobody wore it. You trot over, making sure to keep a wary eye on the deadly armor. Fury pokes his nose out from the other side of the door. “Is it gone?”

“More than gone, it disintegrated.” You say kicking one of the pieces with a hoof sending it sliding across the marble floor. “What the fuck was that?”

“Somepony trying to kill me, obviously.” He wavers. With still shaking hooves he leaves his sanctuary and picks up one of the pieces with his magic. “Somepony… that’s some strong telekinesis right there. Whoever just tried to assassinate me has some skill with their magic.”

“You okay?” You ask concerned for his health.

“I’m fine, just a little shaken up.” He smiles with an unconvincing chuckle. This is surprising; he’s really cracking under the pressure but is also supposedly a powerful battle mage. “I’ll have to look into this, but let’s just hurry up and get that collar off before something else tries to murder me.”

You pull the table back onto its legs and climb back onto it. The shackles reappear and Fury, now looking a lot more urgent in his job hurriedly begins to work at it again. “Why did we have to make these so complicated?” He grumbles under his breath. “Now, where is that shock ward?”

You lay there for another ten minutes as Fury gets absorbed into his work. The drama of the Knight attack is forgotten as he works his magic in order to remove the collar that’s been strapped round your neck for weeks on end. You’ll probably need to have a bath after this; the collar is just tight enough to ensure that you couldn’t clean under it very well.

With a loud click the collar falls away. It feels strange, just like you predicted, to have your neck not constrained by that piece of dark leather. “Finally!” Fury shouts. You let out a small sigh of relief because the ghost Knight didn’t come back.

“Thanks Fury.” You say hopping off the table. You crack your neck as you work out the kinks from being held stationary for so long.

“Not at all an issue my friend.” Using his magic he teleports the table away, and pulls the old round one back into the middle. “Before you go running off again, I’d like to have a little chat about a few things.” He asks eying the scars left in the floor with slight fear.

He pulls up two chair and places them close together. He sits on the left. Not having anything else to do you decide to see what he has to say. “You’ve been here for a long while now, and I’ve grown to value your presence around the palace for the brief moments we’ve had together. I did this as a favor to you, because I would not like to see you lose yourself in this conflict.”

“So you’re expecting one back? I’d be ha-“

“No, no, no…” he interrupts, “This was free, don’t feel obligated to do anything in return.”

“Well thanks.”

“I get the feeling that you’ve been left out of the loop for a lot of the time you’ve been here. Sombra is a very secretive sort and would rather cut away his stallion-hood then let something slip. I have to say that’s one of the many reason why I feel, he is no longer fit to lead this empire.”

“W-what? Where’s this coming from?” You ask confused, Fury is supposed to be his most loyal subject.

“From somepony very close to him, for his own safety…” He chews his lip for a moment, looking down at the table before sighing. “I wish to remove my brother from the throne.”

Try Again

“Remove him from the throne? As in get rid of him? Brother?” You ask in shock. You’d never have thought that Fury would want to usurp Sombra; in fact he’s the last pony you’d expect to say this.

“It’s a badly kept secret that he and I hail from the same blood. I’m not going to go into detail over it. It doesn’t really matter in relation to recent events.”

You can’t say you’re entirely surprised by the two being brothers, now that you know you can see a few similarities between the two that you didn’t draw a connection to before. They both have similar facial structures, and both are highly proficient in magic. “Why?” Is the only question you can ask.

“It’s simple. I fear for my dear brother’s life. You’ve seen first-hoof how this conflict is intensifying to the point where we may not be able to contain it. The last thing I, or indeed he desires is for the violence to spill out onto the streets. It would spell a major loss of life for both our soldiers and citizens. It has left me in a tight spot.”

His horn lights up and pulls the map from under the table. He rolls it out and studies it intently for a few moments. The map hasn’t been modified much since you last saw it yesterday. A new, blue circle covers a rather large area to the south. “I’m presented with two options, allow my brother to be killed in the violence, or usurp him and provide protection from the rebels.”

“I thought this war was going in your favor.” You remind him, just a short time ago Sombra boasted over the dining table about his dominance over the ill-equipped rebels. Either he’s been lying the entire time, for a benefit that escapes you, or things have changed for the worse very rapidly. Outside interference isn’t out of the picture as Sombra did imply that it was Celestia and Luna.

“It is actually. To an extent anyway, back an animal into a corner and it only becomes more violent. The attack on the palace was something none of us saw coming. They were never that brazen in the beginning, content to engage in small scale civil disobedience. My brother is a prime target and my personal concern for his wellbeing trumps a swift victory in this war.”

He looks down to the map and points to the blue circle. “They’ve relocated to here to a base that we destroyed in a previous raid under the belief that we wouldn’t check there again. Our scouts have reported large shipments of weapons being handed to them by unknown benefactors. We don’t have the stallion-power to scour the empire for these smugglers, especially not after the recent assaults.

"Direct attacks seem to be useless too, they always manage to scrape by and prop themselves up again. They may be receiving reinforcements from the smugglers too. I suspect that they’re planning a last ditch assault on the palace in order to kill my brother outright and push our loyal forces into disarray. From there it would be a small stretch to assume total control.”

Wow, he really has all of this figured out.

“So, you want to get to him first?”

He nods. “And with some theatrics, potentially stage some kind of death or execution. I play the hero and place myself onto the throne as the underdog, and nopony is any the wiser. My brother is not sent to the afterlife, and the rebels lose much momentum as they believe in their own victory. The only problem is organizing the whole thing.”

“I could help.” You suggest, shuffling closer to Fury. “The rebels talked to me after the botched execution, they’d been spying on me for a long time and wanted me, as the newest mage, to act as a spy for them.”

Fury grins. “Fortune favors us indeed. Their assurance in the unknown will be their downfall.” His smile droops, “You didn’t tell them anything did you?”

“What could I tell them that’d be useful?” You ask racking your brain for ideas. Fury’s smile comes back even greater than before.

“Simple my dear friend, you tell them that one of Sombra’s mages is about to defect.”

You spent an hour or so going over ideas for using your new position as a rebel mole. You weren’t one hundred percent behind the idea yet, especially considering everything that could go wrong with such a complicated plan. Fury didn’t seem to mind, and just told you to stop being such a worry-wart. You aren’t as confident in his plan as you let on.

It didn’t take long for Fury to come up with something as it seems he’s had this in mind for a long time now. The rest of the guild is apparently in on the plot too, and have already gone to set the pieces into motion. All Fury has to do is go convince Sombra of his idea, and send you to arrange a meeting with the rebel leader.

Despite all this you agree to help him set it in motion. With plenty of time to waste you stroll back down into the library which is vacant once again. You wonder what Warm is doing right now. Still, you remain conscious of prying eyes and walk over to the message box propped up on the front desk. You circle around discovering a conveniently placed quill and parchment for you to use.

With your improved control you easily scribble away your message. “One of the mages wishes to defect, in contact with them now.” You roll it up and slip it into the box before hastily leaving again. You’re not sure how they’ll get back to you; Sombra started rotating the staff a while ago to interfere with spies.

You don’t have anything else to do. You stop for a moment watching as a maid diligently polishes the floor with a dirtied cloth. The staff put a hell of a lot of work into maintaining this place you muse. She lifts the cloth away and smiles at her own reflection. She looks over to you suddenly with a small blush on her face. “Oh! Hello ma’am.” She performs a small bow. “Do you need anything?”

“No, no. I’m just thinking about what to do now.” You pass her by without another word. An idea strikes you, the garden! You can go have a nice nap down there. With a new spring in your step you trot away from the confused maid.

You take in a deep breath of the fresh air. The garden is no different from your last visit, apart from the black smudge parked by the edge of the pond further in; figures that he’d be here of all times. With a sigh you head towards him wanting to get your inevitable game of verbal tennis over with so you can relax.

His position is comical considering how dignified he usually presents himself, lying on his back, legs crossed and staring off into the distance. All he needs is a straw in his mouth and he’ll look like a real farmer. Sombra doesn’t even notice you until you clear your throat. He jumps under his skin and scrambles to his feet. Upon noticing it’s you he relaxes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

You roll your eyes and sit down in the cool grass. “I was right next to you; you need to pay more attention.” He huffs like a child and sits next to you looking out over the pristine blue pond. You stretch your forelegs above your head and collapse into the grass. His eyes flicker over you for a moment before realigning themselves. Thankfully he remains silent allowing you to relax.

You drift off into your own little world, thinking back to your time as a human. Resignation fills you as you realize that there’s little chance of going back now. You have a few too many responsibilities to just pick up and run, and as much as you don’t want to admit it you’re enjoying all the excitement and intrigue. A few weeks ago you would have slapped yourself for saying that, but now you’re not so sure.

Your eyes grow heavy as you drift away into a small nap.

Sombra looks back down to Rose, her petite chest rising and falling in a light slumber. His eyes linger scanning over her body, her striking red hair, her intimidating pointed horn (much like his own) and her wide flared hips. It was no secret to him that she was very attractive.

Sombra knew she was the target of much affection from guards too cowardly to approach her. Despite this they still cheered heartily during their time in the barracks, gossiping like teenagers about which member of the castle staff they would like to lay with next. He was willing to give them that much, so long as the maids were willing and it was in good faith.

It was a different story all together when the lecherous bastards began talking about Rose. Some accused him of playing favorites and “keeping her for yourself” but the truth of the matter was that Sombra never stood for such juvenile behavior within his ranks. They were slipping, and he had to nip it in the bud before it got out of hoof.

Even if they did have a point.

Sombra shakes his head. “No!” At least… not as much as they think. Sombra looks down to the ground, what is wrong with him? Doting over a filly like this, he’s a King; he can get anything he desires at a moment’s notice.

Except for her.

He looks back again, afraid of her opening her red eyes wide and shouting at him. What started as a small novelty, a toy, a tool to be used in his schemes has developed into an unfulfilled infatuation. One that plays contrary to everything he’s done to this point, his dismissive nature, his cold exterior and pointed tongue; a collection of small regrets that keep him from revealing his true feelings.

He growls. Why? He’s above this; he’s above fawning over things that escape his grasp, so why can’t he get over the mare asleep next to him? His hoof slams down into the ground, displacing grass and dirt. She isn’t like the others, her words are genuine, filled with all the anger and malice, the joy and happiness, not afraid to argue back at him or disparage his opinions or actions. The kind of pony he wishes he were surrounded by.

“It’s too late for that now.”

Even now he sees that spark of fear in her eyes at his presence, an all too familiar feeling, something that can kindle into an inferno of hatred for his being. He remembers the dinner date, his batting eyelashes and foolish attempts to swoon a mare, who at the moment despises him. He can’t blame her, not after showing such little concern for her welfare at the advent of her capture.

He’s been cut off from others for too long. A cool breeze sweeps through the suspended garden bringing him back to reality. Rose is still there, her brilliant eyes meet his. “Hello? Anybody there?”

Sombra averts his gaze back to the pond after staring for a little too long for your taste. Was he watching you the entire time you were asleep? He evidently hasn’t moved from his spot next to you. “How long was I out?” You mutter, looking up to the setting sun. That must have passed an hour or so. Sombra remains uncharacteristically silent. “What up with you?” You poke his ribs with a hoof. He flinches and grunts before shuffling away from your reach.

“I was thinking.”

…

“And?”

“I was thinking about how I’ve treated you recently.” You raise an eyebrow but don’t interrupt. “I understand that from your perspective I’ve been cruel and cold to you.”

“What gave you that impression?” You jab dryly, motioning to your new body.

He ignores you and carries on. “And I’d like to apologize for it all. In retrospect in served no real purpose beyond my own aloofness leading me to believe that interaction, or even some level of relations with others was unnecessary.”

“I’m not sure you need to apologize to me first. What about Fury?”

“Well, you are present at this moment so I decided to take advantage. But yes, I believe we both need a good long talk about recent events.”

"So why the sudden change of heart, it wasn’t too long ago that you were all for leaving me to the dogs.” He visibly winces which only inflames your curiosity, you’ve hit a very obvious nerve.

“You, you changed my mind.”

“Really?” You ask.

He nods. “I can’t quite fathom it myself. It’s sudden, something that I only realized just now with you lying there next to me. Perhaps the problems I face are not a result of outside influence, but a product of my own actions. I isolated myself from others to ensure that they couldn’t hurt me, but all it has truly done is prevent them from coming to my aid.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Make up for my mistakes, which is what you suggested, is it not?”

“You have a lot of work to do.”

He looks you in the eye, “I do. Would you come to my aid in this matter?”

“Sure. It’s funny, when you first brought me here you were the last pony I would trust or give help to. But now I find myself realizing that you are one of the few I actually trust.”

“And why is that? I’ve done many a thing to earn your ire.”

“You’ve never lied, the entire time I’ve been here. This is less than I can say for many others. Whether or not it’ll stay that way is yet to be seen.” He looks away again. “Don’t make an effort for my sake; there are some things we’d all like to hide.”

“More than you’d ever know.”

Relics

You sit near the head of the dining table with the newly introspective Sombra. After declaring his intent to smarten up and move back towards being nice a near simultaneous rumbling from below reminded you that you’ve not eaten for the better half of the day. An unspoken agreement was made and you now find yourself waiting on the catering staff to serve your meal.

The silence is soon broken, not by the presence of the waiter but by the sudden appearance of Fury. Sombra looks confused but remains silent.

“Hello brother,” he greets happily. Sombra looks between the both of you.

“He told me earlier,” you say preempting his question.

“And why would that be?” He asks, leaning back into his seat.

“We were talking about a few issues with one another, and I decided to get it out in the open before anything did it for us,” Fury explains pulling out a seat of his own, sitting opposite you. “Don’t look like that; it isn’t an earth shattering revelation.” He rolls his eyes.

“I’d much prefer it if you kept from spilling all of our secrets to others,” Sombra grumbles.

“There aren’t many secrets left to keep. Although I’ll hold off the last few.”

“Good. What are you here for?”

Before Fury can begin the doors swing open revealing the waiter. He scoots his little chrome cart into the room and carefully lays out both of your plates, along with a small set of cutlery. He looks to Fury, but he shakes his head to dismiss him. Fury waits until he has vacated the room to start again.

“It’s not an easy thing to approach you with. However I deem it something that is becoming increasingly necessary as time goes on. I and Rose have talked about my idea briefly and now I’d like to pitch it to you.” Fury waits for a moment, hoping for some kind of permission. Sombra continues to eat his salad without a word. Seeing that as a cue to continue he moves on.

“You and I both know of the threat that is boiling up under out hooves at this moment. For all of their appearances and lamentations the rebels could easily push into the palace with proper support and I fear that they have that support as of today.” Sombra’s fork clatters onto the table. He levitates one of the tissues and dabs around the outside of his mouth.

“And you believe that I am in danger?” He says placing it back down. “Why have you involved Rose in this?”

“I’m getting to that brother. I had a flash of brilliance earlier today when considering our position. We already have somepony on the inside of their organization.” He nods to you. “And we’ve been sitting on her the entire time.”

“I haven’t actually done anything for them,” you protest.

“But you did show intent, and that’s all they care about. I can prepare a solution for us, to get rid of them once and for all but first I need more time, and I need to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Sombra butts in. You have to agree with him, from what little you’ve seen of his magical power it wouldn’t surprise you if he could take out anything they throw at him. “They may be able to contend with my guard, but they will not have the same liberty with me.”

“He has a point,” you say. Sombra seems happy that you agree with him. “But… what about the possibility of falling into open conflict?” His smile and optimism disappear just as quickly as it arrived.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that now.”

“Listen brother, this is only going to get worse, maybe not for you, but for everypony who lives in the empire. This isn’t something we can just ignore anymore. Your presence of the throne threatens to split our collective into two and no family ties or friendships will stop the bloodshed then,” Fury warns, slamming a hoof down onto the table.

“And how do you know that dear brother? That our people would descend into such anarchy over the word of one and another?” He scoffs.

“Because it’s happened before!” He roars in anger. This seems to catch his and your attention. There’s a bit of history you’re missing between these two. “Your damn arrogance would see it happen again because you never learn! How many have to die before you take action, how many? Not even the death of famil-”

“Don’t you dare bring them into this!” Sombra screams back in a ghastly voice. “That was different, and you know it!” The room dies down, a chill working its way under your white fur. They both take deep, heaving breaths before slipping back into their seats, each shooting the other a deadly glare. You need to defuse this situation.

“Sombra!” You hiss like an irritated mother. “We talked about this.”

“But I don’t understand why I should humor this idea.”

“Which you haven’t heard yet,” You add. “At least listen to his plan first, if not for your own sake but for your subjects who are in danger.” He sighs as he looks back to the triumphant Fury. You’re annoyed at the both of them for arguing like a pair of foals but you stay your tongue as Fury begins to explain his plan.

Sombra remains silent the entire time allowing you to finish off your meal without having to answer questions or mediate the two. That was really close, you were lucky to pull them both back into line. Do they always argue like this when you’re not around? For brothers the two seem to have remarkably different personalities and attitudes.

Just as you polish of the last of your forgettable meal Fury finishes and awaits a response from his stoic brother. It doesn’t seem to be forthcoming so you decide to move things along. “So? What do you think?”

He sighs and looks to one of the stained windows. “I have to admit there is some benefit to your plan. I fail to see how it will protect me, not that I need it of course.”

“It lulls them into a false sense of security and makes them come out of hiding, then we can finish them when they least expect it without throwing ourselves into direct combat…” Fury moans as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And then when there are no rebels left, they won’t try to kill us anymore!”

Sombra mulls over it for a few minutes, Fury occasionally shooting you a hopeful glance. “Fine.” He grumbles rising from his seat. “You may enact this scheme of yours, but if it doesn’t work…”

“I’ll accept the consequences, I know, I know.” He looks to you, an excited spark in his eyes. “We best get started right away!”

The door clicks shut as Sombra slips away.

You sit looking over the worn piece of parchment. It details everything you need to do to pull Fury’s plan off. It sounds easy enough, but you still hesitate in front of the palace door. Is this really what you want to do?

It’d be wonderful if you could point the finger at Sombra and fight him, after all he is a dictator, and dictators are always a bad thing. The question you ask yourself now, is the alternative any better? Who would fill the power vacuum that would be left behind by his displacement? You shift from one hoof to the other. You don’t trust the rebels, and you are just beginning to trust Sombra.

You push it open and head out into the chilly evening air, the guards glance at you for a moment before allowing you to pass without question. You have to make a decision soon, you can’t just dance between the two forever. The other citizens out and about at this time give you a wide berth probably from a combination of your robe and reputation as a member of Sombra’s personal circle of relationships.

You notice that a few foals point at you and tug on their parent’s leg, asking with childish curiosity who you are and why everypony is avoiding you. Are these people afraid of you? Or are they afraid of what Sombra might do to them if they mess with you? Keep your eyes forward, no need to creep them out by staring. You take a sudden left down into one of the many decrepit alleys that dot the poor district.

Soon enough a distinct looking building comes into view. An anarchic combination of the traditional crystal architecture you’ve seen and a Tudor style home you’d expect to find in England. Large black, wooden beams runs across its front and sides for seemingly no purpose or reason, one of the few instances of actual windows are crossed with black embedding and a shingled roof draws the eye.

That is one ugly building, you have to admit. It’s a good thing it’s hidden out of sight like this. A rotted wooden sign swings freely in the breeze; a dulled image of a mug of some kind of alcoholic beverage informs all that this is a place to drink away your worries. You open the wooden door and step into the dark tavern.

The interior doesn’t imitate the exterior. Unlike the horrible train wreck outside, the inside makes sure to stick to the wooden aesthetic. The crystal walls are covered by a layer of wooden cladding ensuring that there is no garish contrast between the two. It looks like every generic medieval fantasy rolled into one. Somebody has been here recently, as the tables have all been pushed away from the bar floor and stacked at the sides. Only one remains with four seats.

Remembering the incredibly specific instructions sent to you, you take a seat and wait patiently for your contacts to arrive. The eerie silence does nothing to settle your frayed nerves, why did they have to pick the creepiest place possible? A thought flutters to the front of your mind, is this the tavern Warm used to run?

Before you can put anymore thought into it the sound of creaking wood fills the empty room. You see a green ear poke out from behind the dusty bar, followed by the familiar face of Spyglass. He looks back down and nods to an unseen accomplice who emerges after him, it’s the commander. They both move up to the table and take two of the three spare seats.

“Nice to see you again, Rose,” Spyglass smiles. “I never got the chance to thank you for the help.”

“You don’t need to; it was the right thing to do,” you respond modestly. Lily scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah right, we were lucky to find somepony in that palace with the balls to do it.” Spyglass nods, but winces slightly as she mentions balls, you don’t want to imagine why.

“Anyway,” you say wanting to move away from the topic, “let’s get on with the reason we’re here.”

“Right, your defector,” Lily nods looking around the bar for a moment. “Where are they?”

“Not here right now, he’ll be arriving soon. He’s a paranoid guy.”

“So he sent you in first?” Spyglass asks seemingly irritated. “Sounds like an asshole to me.”

“He’s a very powerful asshole, for the record. I wouldn’t have arranged this meeting if it wasn’t worth your time,” you tell him. Lily looks to him and raises a brow. He grins sheepishly before lowering himself into his seat. There’s something going on here.

You don’t have time to ask as the door swings open once more to reveal a rather jovial looking Fury. “You’re buckin’ with me,” Spyglass mumbles in disbelief. He looks to Lily who is also frozen in shock. “You’re buckin’ with me!”

Fury walks up with an arrogant flair taking the last seat. “I can assure you that I am indeed, not bucking with you. This is very real.”

Lily shuts her gaping jaw and composes herself. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither did I, to be honest.” You joke. “So,” you clap your hooves together, “let’s get down to business.”

Last Rites

Spyglass and Lily remain shocked into silence forcing you to take the initiative. “Fury has agreed to help our cause by lending us his, and the rest of the guild’s support.”

“We’re just as tired of Sombra as you are, the fastest way to end this conflict is to up-root him,” Fury smiles. “We need to end this decisively so nobody else gets hurt. So I’m pledging my support, and the support of my colleagues in the crystal empire mage’s guild to ensure that your effort to remove him is successful.”

He sounds earnest, but you know he’s lying. Even Lily looks skeptical of his sudden switch to their side. “Why? You’ve done nothing for us so far, why should we trust you so easily? Are you just trying to scamper of this sinking ship before you drown?”

“Yeah,” Spyglass pitches in, “why the sudden change of heart?”

“I understand that from where you’re standing this doesn’t make much sense. Have I done anything to earn your ire? I’ve ensured that the guild has stayed its wrath under Sombra’s orders. If we wanted to we could have easily swept away your forces, even now we could have an assassin waiting in the shadows for you, yet you still draw breath.” He reasons.

“I suppose so,” Lily admits. “As much as I don’t like to reveal our secrets, we’re in real trouble. Our benefactors are considering withdrawing their support completely and our supplies are dwindling, we need to make a move soon or we won’t have a chance.”

“And you’d just admit that to both of us?” You ask.

She sighs. “We don’t have much left to lose, it’s all or nothing. Whether or not you run to Sombra with that will change nothing. We need a push from somepony influential to do this, and you are that somepony.”

“I have to admit, this is more than I ever imagined,” Spyglass grins, “we’ll be knocking on the throne room door in no time at all!”

“Chill out Spy, we’re not there yet,” she talks him down. He still has a stupid grin on his face though. Lily looks exasperated but takes a deep breath and composes herself. You hazard a guess that she has some kind of anger problem.

“We’re already setting a plan into motion,” Fury informs them while hiding away the context, “you’ll have a large window of opportunity to take the palace soon, which should force the remaining guards to surrender.”

“Starting without us?” Lily pouts.

“Well, with your help or not we’re moving to dispose of Sombra. If you want to take advantage of that fact is up to you, we won’t get in your way.”

Spyglass and Lily look to each other, turn around and begin whispering to one another. Fury’s expression remains as it was, but you can tell he’s kind of nervous about all of this. You feel the same, what if they are the ones with the hidden assassins?

They turn back around. “When are you planning your move?”

“Three days from now. I hope that is a good time for you.”

“It is, actually. We’ll be there,” Lily nods.

“Boss are you sur-“

“No, no, it’s perfect Spyglass,” she hisses under her breath.

Fury smiles disarmingly and reaches a hoof over the table; Lily complies and shakes on it. “I’m so happy we could come to an agreement. I expect to see you all there on the day, casual attire, don’t be late,” he jokes. “But really, there will be violence, try not to get killed.” Leaving them with that stupid warning he pushes back from the table and trots out of the door. You sigh and cover your head with your fore hooves.

“Is he always like that?” Spyglass sneers, “I bet he’s fun at parties.”

“You get used to him,” you moan.

“I guess we’re done here,” Lily concludes, “We’ll see you in three days Rose.” They both rise from their seats.

You nod and give them a wave as they both descend back under the ground, via the basement shaft built behind the bar. It reminds you of your old teacher who’d used to do that to lighten the mood in the classroom. You snort and leave the dusty bar, heading back onto the street. Fury is nowhere to be found, the excitable moron must have wandered off or rushed back to the castle to get ready.

As you begin the long walk back to the castle you think back to Warm’s description of her old family owned tavern, she didn’t describe it in much detail but you have a feeling that the bar you just had the meeting in was hers. Then again, it’s the only tavern you’ve seen during your time here so it’s perfectly possible that you’re drawing connections where none remain.

The littered streets feel as somber as always, with down trodden looking ponies trying to make the best of it talking to friends and spending time with family. You have to ask yourself again, whose fault is this, Sombra’s or the rebel’s? Your first thought was Sombra, but now you’re not so sure. Warm’s personal account of the events leading up to the state of this place has stuck with you and lingers in your mind like a bad smell.

These rebels, who are they actually fighting for, themselves or some outside force? You haven’t seen a single pony express open support of them since you arrived except for the ponies that are a part of it. You know they’re getting weapons from somewhere, so they must be getting soldiers too. Thinking back to the assault on the palace, you now notice the prevalence of normal, equestrian ponies.

Sombra’s guard is made up of almost entirely crystal ponies, and when it isn’t, it’s topped off with a legion of unicorns for their magical abilities. You spotted a few pegasi with them. They must have flown into the palace through the garden and let their friends inside.

Maybe Sombra isn’t the compulsive liar you think he is. You need to ask a few questions…

If only you could find the bastard. Your brow twitches irritably as yet another maid stammers out that she doesn’t know where he is. Ignoring her pleas for mercy you stomp past and try to find somepony who does know. There is nobody else here to ask.

Of all people why does Sombra have to be so difficult to find, he’s the King for fucks sake! There should be a contingent of guards and servants following him at all times.

“A-actually, he prefers to work alone,” the shaking mare whispers.

Did you just shout that out loud?

“Y-yes.”

You blush and restrain yourself from any more frustration. Embarrassment courses through you as you push past and go towards the mages quarters. The doors swing open under the pull of your magic and slam closed again, your emotional state affecting your magic. You stop before the inner door and take a deep breath, calm down Rose; you’re getting frantic over nothing.

The doors swing open gracefully (by your standards anyway) and catch the attention of the assembled mages, it looks like the entire guild of forty is crammed in here. Just your luck, Sombra is right there talking to Fury. You resist the urge to scream and walk over to them catching the tail end of their conversation.

“…and then we activate the spell, have one of the rebels check your pulse, and declare you to be killed,” Fury concludes.

“And they’re coming under the belief that you will join their forces in the battle?” Sombra asks skeptically.

“Yes, we talked with them this morning,” you jump in, “Fury, you were quite convincing. I didn’t take you for an actor.”

“You learn a lot of things in my post, smiling for the camera during negotiations is just one of them,” he boasts. “Anyway, we then “dispose” of your body and put you somewhere they can’t find you. While they celebrate their easy victory over the tyrant, potentially revealing their true intentions, we will swoop in and seize control of the situation.”

“And if they don’t relent?” Sombra pokes.

“I don’t think they’ll last long, if that’s what you’re asking.” The other mages nod and give a little jeer in the background. “Rose will be on hoof to resuscitate you with the antidote, if all goes wrong you can bowl them over, but I doubt that will be the case.”

“So we kill their leaders outright? This seems like a large effort for such a simple goal.”

“You know just as well as I do that we can’t pin these ponies down, every time we cut off one head another emerges and they hide away again putting us back to square one. With this plan, they will all be here in the same place trying to take the palace; this is their final assault, one way or another.”

“I heard from them that they’re losing support from whoever is supplying them, this could mean they don’t have enough troops too,” you pitch in.

“So once we kill them off, we won’t have them popping up again. From there we can secure the borders and the underground network. Problem solved.”

“A conflict like this is a lot more complicated then you make it out to be Fury. I’m not so sure that this will be the end of it,” Sombra says. “I suppose it won’t hurt to try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Fury cheers. One of the mages taps his shoulder and whispers something to him. “Really? It’s ready?”

"If you’ll excuse me I believe our potion is ready in the alchemy chamber, we need to run some tests and all.” With a bow he steps away from you both and pushes into the crowd. You can see a flash of the illuminated chamber before he slips in and the door closes.

You turn back to Sombra, who with glazed eyes is looking at the nearest brick wall. You wave a hoof in front of his eyes. “You okay? You look a bit out of it.”

“I’m fine,” he growls shaking away the daze. “Just thinking.”

“While we’re here, I’d like to ask you something. Do you know who the driving force behind the rebels is?”

He looks confused for a moment. “I already told you.”

“The Equestrians right?” He nods. “Well, I was hoping for a bit more detail,” you shrug.

He leans over to you to avoid eavesdroppers. “You’ve seen it yourself. The presence of pegasi and earth ponies among their ranks? Impossible here in the empire, they had the lowest population numbers out of any race in this city, they were the minority. How is it that they have such easy access to a group of ponies that are seldom seen here?”

“They have outside help?”

“Exactly, Equestrian trained soldiers and Equestrian made weapons are getting into our city somehow. The princesses aren’t above engaging in foul play if it serves them well. Under the belief that the citizens here fear my rule and want me to be removed they send their provocateurs to murder and maim them.”

“To be honest, I don't think they are behind it,” you admit.

“Looks can be deceiving. The ponies living here don’t see me as a tyrant, but as a protector. They do not see the spilled blood of the tyrant’s soldiers; they see the lost life of a close family member or friend. They don’t see the princesses as saviors here to free them, but as opportunists trying to expand their realm whether the ponies like it or not.”
You sigh and look away. “Part of me wants to believe you, you know.”

“During your time here have I ever lied to you Rose?”

“By omission,” you seethe pointing to your neck, “What other secrets are hidden in that head of yours I don’t know, but I’d rather find out before they come and kill me.” You bite your lip and look to the ground, chuckling bitterly.

Looking into his eyes you ask again, “Don’t lie to me Sombra, not any more. Don’t be blind to your own mistakes or your people will pay for them dearly. Are the princesses trying to undermine your rule?”

“Yes,” He answers, staring directly into your eyes. “I swear on this, on my life, that they are behind this conflict. A hidden war has stretched across decades against me by them, there is only one answer.”

With that, he takes his leave. With no time to respond you sit there and contemplate everything he has said. The Equestrians, the citizens, the rebels, all of it is a confusing mess. That’s not even touching the scale of the entire thing. These ponies have been doing this for decades; you can see why they’d be tired of it. What you really want to know is whether the citizens actually fly his flag, or want to burn it.

Static

A cloud of cold breath escapes from your mouth as you trot down the empty hallways. The lights are all gone, leaving the palace illuminated by the silver light of the full moon. It’s cold; nobody has been here for a while. The doors pass by you in a daze, blurry yet still recognizable from your time inhabiting the castle.

You don’t know where you’re going. Getting out of bed you just had a sudden compulsion to walk, to get some fresh air. Now you’re not so sure, it feels like you need to go somewhere, somewhere important.

A loud screeching sound cuts through the silence like a knife as the view outside of the windows begins to fade away into static. Panic runs through you, what’s happening? You take off running, still unsure of where you want to go and hide. Blotches of black and white speed across your vision, the sound of a static TV filling your mind until you can’t think straight.

You kick down some doors and run into a large room, with immaculate crystal steps and a proud throne. You let out a scream as the sound only grows louder, your eardrums are about to pop!

It stops.

Clarity returns to you, how long have you been sitting here? The moon has dipped below the horizon as the first signs of the rising sun cast the sky into a vivid blue orange mixture. You’re in the throne room, you know that much. The room is empty, but it will soon be filled with ponies clamoring for the attention of the King.

A familiar voice calls from the entrance, “Nice of you to join me Rose.” It’s Silver Shield.

“Where have you been? It’s all been going down without you,” you ask. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. He smiles and laughs, walking down the hall and onto the staircase, your eyes following his movements.

“Busy, very busy. I have seldom time to myself these days. You’ve been busy too haven’t you?”

“You could say that. Sombra and Fury have roped me into some stupid plan,” you scoff.

“That sounds like them alright, never going for the simplest solution,” Silver laughs. “Anyway, I haven’t brought you here to talk about what they’re doing.”

“Brought me here?”

Silver freezes for a moment, “We’re in a dreamscape right now. I thought you would have noticed with all the odd things going on in here,” he says pointing to the distorted glass window. “Can’t say I understand what that is supposed to be myself, these dreams are meant to hold some kind of meaning to you.”

Static? You’re obviously fixated on how Sombra brought you here. “Interference,” you state simply, he wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain how a TV works.

“It shares some similarities with magical interference actually, the sound; I hate that sound,” he grunts rubbing his ears.

“I have to say, it’s pretty impressive that you can enter my dreams like this. I hope you haven’t been spying on me the entire time,” you scowl. Silver gives a disarming smile and crosses his hooves.

“I swear on my life, this is purely so we can hold a discussion with one another now that my position in the castle has been compromised. Although I have tried this before with little success, I did see some very interesting things,” he mutters, sitting down on the bottom step of the throne.

“Like what?” You ask, angry that he’s been looking into your head without permission. How can he swear down that he hasn’t been spying on you before admitting it a moment later?

“Things you’ve been doing mostly, an abstract representation at least. You know how dreams are,” he shrugs, “never know what’s going to happen next; A sudden appearance by a friend or old acquaintance maybe?”

“Are you trying to imply that you’re just part of this dream?”

He chuckles, “Of course not, you’re lucid right now aren’t you? Don’t think about it too hard or you’ll wake up, and we haven’t even started yet.” He pats the space next to him, “Come and take a load off, we have a lot to discuss.”

You cautiously follow and sit an arm’s length away from him. You still don’t trust him yet, he’s been nothing but an occasional convenience since day one. The kind of convenience that starts asking for favors. He seems a little disappointed by your unwillingness to snuggle up to him.

He coughs awkwardly and looks out through the still open doors, the corridor having been absorbed into the gray and white static. It hurts to look at for too long so he soon averts his gaze back to you. “So… how are things between you and Sombra?”

“Better, if you’re willing to believe it. He made a promise to go back to his roots and tone down the oppressive tyrant thing, and to not lie by omission with me anymore.”
“That matters a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to finally get some transparency for once from him. That was probably the longest conversation we’ve had.” You let out a hollow laugh into the air before frowning bitterly. “Still left a bad taste in my mouth. He has a long way to go before I call him somebody I can trust.”

“He never lied to you directly? Sounds like him.”

“Did you used to know him?” He nods. “Guard?” You guess, it conjunction with his appearance and cutie mark.

“I actually used to be in the guild,” he reveals. “I was one of his best mages.” He looks back to you and raises a brow. “Aren’t you surprised?” He asks.

“Not really, everybody must have been part of this guild at some point or another. I mean I got in too without any experience,” you joke. “So I’m guessing he did something that you didn’t like and you left?”

“If you put it like that, yes he did. We used to be tight knit, me, him and Fury. Nopony could get in our way when we put our heads together, when we took over the empire from our incompetent predecessor,” he sighs longingly. “Those were the days; we did good for our people. We helped bring our empire the prosperity it deserved while Sombra acted as a perfect figurehead for our new dynasty.”

“I haven’t got an answer, none of the books say anything, and they say you’re dead, what happened?”

“Dead? Officially, but I’m very much alive and well in the spirit of my ponies.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do you mean? What did Sombra do?”

His face muscles tense and relax at random periods, like a fish out of water. “He… didn’t listen to me. After all that we went through, he didn’t listen. He was content to sit back on his fat flanks and watch as everything went to shit.”

You’re getting an ominous sense of déjà vu.

“The Equestrians, they came for us,” he says become visibly distressed. “Ran us down like animals. While he sat there and bucking watched!” He screams, the air around his body becoming distorted. You remain silent, leaning further away from him as he paces to and fro. “Because that’s what he wanted, he wanted me dead, me and everypony else like me. Because he couldn’t bucking handle having somepony else take control!”

He stomps a hoof on the ground, sending large cracks to all corners of the room. His body twitches slightly. He turns back, meeting your gaze with slightly bloodshot eyes. “And now, look where we are… you, you naïve little shit! Swallowing down his lies like ambrosia, swooning over the “handsome” devil that kidnapped you and nearly killed you!”

“I don’t swoon!” You shout, having had enough of his crazed rant.

“That’s all? That’s all you can say, of course it is. You know it as well as I do, there are no more excuses to be made, no more second chances or last second fixes. He’s got you; he has you and is dragging you through the mud like an abused housewife, a chilling foreshadowing for your future.”

You bite your tongue. “Shut up.”

“And then when he’s had his fun, taken you to his bed-chambers and given you a good tumble, he’ll throw you out to the wolves like worthless refuse.”

You can taste copper. He trots forward, his indigent rage replaced with a confident, mocking tone. His hoof grips you by the cheek and pulls you, a horrid stench wafting from his quivering maw. “Rose… Rose… Rose…” He tuts.

“You’re blind to it all, and it’ll take you a long time to realize, maybe even as you stare over the edge and into the blackness. Remember this, your good friend Silver warned you. He warned you about falling into Sombra’s web, and when everything has fallen apart around you, you will finally realize that there are no happy endings!” He screeches, his voice escalating into indiscernible white noise.

With a gasp you awaken, shivering as the cool night air clashes with the thin layer of sweat hidden away under your fur. You wrap your arms around yourself and fall back onto the still wet mattress. What the hell? Was all of that real? Your knowledge of the show tells you that only Luna could enter other pony’s dreams, but is it a spell anybody can cast with enough practice?

Still shaken you hobble over to the bathroom to relieve yourself. You look over to the tub, bringing back memories of your impromptu masturbation session when you first met Sombra. Only now do you realize that your sudden arousal must have been a consequence of that stupid collar. You haven’t felt the urge since having never been much of a chronic masturbator.

A friend of yours used to have that, you muse as you wash your face off with some cold water. You’re going to need a proper bath; you were sweating like a pig last night. You sniff the air and catch a faint whiff of the smell of sweaty horse. Ugh.

You’re just distracting yourself, aren’t you?

You look to the mirror which is in the same place as your previous lodgings. You trot over to it, preparing yourself for another round of body turmoil, which never comes. Perhaps more frighteningly, you don’t feel much of anything looking at yourself. No anger, no need to pull the fur from your body, you just feel like you always did back home.

You’re getting complacent with this, Silver was right.

Everything else he said… you don’t believe him. You still view Sombra with as much skepticism as he deserves. You don’t see how you’re going to go from skepticism to jumping into bed with him, lest it take several years which sounds about right. You decided to run yourself that bath, you aren’t going to go back to sleep.

He obviously has some history with Sombra as a member of the guild and close ally, which seems to be a common occurrence, next thing Warm will probably waltz up to you and talk about being Sombra’s long lost sister.

You shut the taps off, steam rising from the clean water. You dip one hoof in to make sure it’s the right temperature before pulling yourself over the edge and into the bath. You lean back and close your eyes, trying to collect your thoughts on the matter.

It’s obvious that something is very, very wrong with Silver; potentially caused by something Sombra did in the past. Silver was listed as a blood mage in the book, something you didn’t get an opportunity to ask him about. So that must mean it is related to the blood mage massacre, and by extension what Sombra did during and after it.

By his own word he sat and watched it happen for an undisclosed reason. Did he know it was going on; did he encourage it in some way? Why would he do that? You feel a headache coming on. You’re not in any particular rush to solve this mystery, so long as nothing else happens in the meantime. Right now you need to focus on preparing for Fury’s plan.

With a sigh you sink further into the water, wishing you could just sat here forever and not have to deal with espionage and warfare. You’re so wrapped up in your relaxation that you don’t pick up on the sound of the outer door closing. Without any other indication the bathroom door swings open to reveal an irritated (when isn’t he?) looking Sombra.

Your human reflex shouts at you to kick him out before he sees your privates. Another part of you points out that he can’t see anything, and you’re naked all the time anyway. This conflict of interest causes you to give him a simple, venomous glare which causes his blush to wither away and forces him to slowly back out of the door.

“Ahem… I’m very sorry about that Rose,” he apologizes from behind the now closed door. “I should have knocked.”

“Yes, you’ll be surprised to find its common courtesy actually you freaking perv,” you shout back. Cutting your bath time short seems to be the correct path of action here. The sooner you get out of this dumb situation the better. Grumpily you towel off, rubbing your wet red hair until it sticks out at all angles.

Not even bothering to comb it you push the door open and stare at the increasingly sheepish King. “You’re acting like a teenager, never seen a wet mare before?”

Your intentional innuendo causes his blush to flare up again and leaves him a stammering mess as he tried to come up with some kind of excuse. This is the most fun you’ve had in months, forcing Sombra to act like this. It serves him right bursting into a mare’s bathroom like that.

He must not have much experience with the ladies.

Tucking that little tidbit away you sit down on your bed and comb through your messy mane. Sombra clears his throat and sits down on the couch. “What do you want?” You ask impatiently.

He sighs, giving up. “I just wish to speak with you about Fury’s plan.”

“What about it?”

“I don’t feel confident that it will work which is why I wouldn’t humor him before. Now the tables have turned and I’m growing increasingly worried about the consequences.”

You place the comb back on your nightstand. “I can’t say it won’t go off without a problem myself, but we’re just going to place some trust in him for once. You saw how eager he was to help you out.”

Sombra shakes his head. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“We’re either going to be dead by the day after tomorrow, or home free. Pick your poison.”

“I’d rather be poisoned on my own terms, rather than his,” he scoffs, crossing his forelegs like an indignant child.

With your hair and fur dry and combed into a somewhat cohesive style you head to the door, opening it for Sombra as he follows along. “Are you always like this? I can see why Fury gets annoyed at you.”

“Don’t get me started,” he mutters under his breath.

Author's Note

alcrowholic is kill

But for real I've had almost no time for myself lately, sorry for the delay. Then again this isn't the worst gap in updates I've done. (Good? I guess.)

Whimsy

A small vial of luminous green liquid is gently levitated down onto the wooden table. “This is the potion we’ll be using to fake Sombra’s death. It knocks you out cold, slows down your heartbeat and lowers the surface temperature of your skin,” Fury gleefully explains, “A brilliant piece of work, even if I do say so myself.”

“And it’ll fool the rebels?” You ask, holding it between your hooves. The glass is extremely fragile, something the other mages learnt the hard way trying to produce the stuff.

“It’ll show them what they want to see; to any outside observer the pony is long past their sell by date. By the time they have a medic on hand to check, you will have revived him and helped finish them off.”

Sombra still doesn’t look convinced. “And how do I know that I will be revived in time?”

“Rose will be waiting in the medical wing, we bring you there and she can pop out from her hiding spot and get you back up. From there it’s a simple matter of waiting until the storm has blown over.” Another vial is dragged into your vision, this time it’s a clear, watery looking fluid.

“Simple,” you chirp. You place the vial back down onto the table. “I don’t see what you’re getting so worried about, all you have to do is play dead…”

“In a situation where my performance could rapidly become reality,” he finishes. “This better be the most convincing fake death potion ever concocted, or there’ll be hell to pay,” he threatens.

“Trust me, this is using his recipe, they won’t know a thing.” Sombra visibly tightens up at the mention of this. “I didn’t even say it,” Fury defends himself, “you need to stop being so sensitive. A hardened king like yourself...” he mutters trailing off. “I’ll just shut up now.”

“Good,” Sombra states. “I presume everything is in place?”

“The moment of truth,” Fury claps his hooves together. “All of our problems are about to disappear.”

“If they attack in the first place, are we sure that they’re coming tomorrow?” One of the mages asks from behind.

“No doubt in my mind they will come for us tomorrow, we’ve presented them the opportunity on a golden platter and they’d be foolish to not take it, if it were not a trap of course. The timing is right and they need one last big play to try and win this war.”

“I can’t wait, I’ve forgotten what a normal day feels like,” another mage cheers, receiving many similar affirmatives from his surrounding colleagues. The excited chatter soon overtakes Fury’s explanations; he huffs and seemingly gives up. One of the mages taps his shoulder and pulls him into the crowd, leaving you alone with Sombra.

He turns and walks away from the commotion and having nothing else to do you decide to follow him. He sends a sideways glance at you as you try to keep pace with him but remains silent until you reach the door to what you presume are his private quarters.

“Why are you following me?”

“Now, or with this whole civil war thing?”

“Both. It’s very unlike you to seek out my company, an understandable position all things considered. Furthermore your support of my cause seems like a practice in indecision rather than a committed effort to assist me.”

He opens the doors with his magic and trots into an opulent room much similar to yours. There are some small differences. Red banners hang from the roof much like in the hallways, and a large window directly across from the door lets in the early morning light. You wish you had a window, but they haven’t moved you since the first attack on the palace.

You dabble on the fresh hold, unsure of whether or not you have his permission to enter. “Come in?” he says with an unasked question on his lips.

You enter the room fully and sit down on one of the couches. “I thought I needed permission,” you answer.

“I’m not that rigid with my rules.”

“Who am I to give myself permission to enter your personal quarters?”

“When I walked in on you in the bath?”

He has you there. You sigh and fall back onto the incredibly comfy sofa. “I’d just like to apologize again. It was unbecoming of me to barge in without permission.” He sits down on the small space left open.

“It doesn’t matter, technically we’re naked all the time anyway,” you muse.

Sombra looks confused. “What do you mean?”

You sit back up and look at hit oddly. “Back home everybody always wore clothes to cover themselves, I thought you knew that?”

“We’ve never really discussed your home before because I assumed it was a point of contention for you. I’m interested in hearing about it.”

Damn, where do you start? “Do you just want to hear about me, or just some of the stuff that’s different back home? I’m sorry to say but I was pretty boring person.”

“Tell me about your world,” he rumbles, leaning forward on his forearms like an eager schoolchild.

“Well, it’s a lot like this place. Green grass, blue skies and oceans, cities and towns.”

“How big were these settlements?”

“Huge, far larger than the empire here. Millions of people crammed into a small area, repeated across the world.”

A look of wonder crosses his face, with a dash of… fear mixed in. The first time you’ve seen him like this and it’s because of how many humans lived back home. “Did you like it there?”

His question hangs in the air, uncomfortably; you shift in your seat and wince slightly as you think back to that night in your apartment. The musty air, the dirty floors, the spoiled food all comes rushing back. You would have never seen it before, but no, you didn’t like it back home.

“I’d say I was… blissfully ignorant to what my life was like. It was routine, and I didn’t care much about myself or my living conditions.”

Sombra jumps in, “So do you prefer it here?”

You remain silent once again, thinking it over. “It’s certainly more exciting then what I’m used to.” Sombra nods, but you can tell it isn’t quite the answer he was looking for. “What? Were you expecting a thank you?”

“Not at all. You’re being vague with yourself, you aren’t sure of what you want,” he states. “Your old life was boring, but ordinary, free from the danger of conflict. You don’t want to admit it, but you like it here, I can see that.”

You don’t give him any answer, content to let the awkward silence roll on. It makes Sombra visibly uncomfortable when you brick wall him like this. He shouldn’t be pointing out your sudden development of Stockholm syndrome.

Silver’s taunt comes back to you, leering about you wanting to sleep with Sombra. You look over to the pensive king who is absorbed in watching the embers of the dying fire. It casts a flattering orange glow across his strong features. Is strong the right word? After so long spent here around other ponies you have a small inkling of what constitutes strong or weak and ugly or attractive, but not so much that you could categorize people on it.

From admitting that Sombra is attractive by pony standards to jumping into bed with him are a fair way off. Personally you still think he’s kind of repugnant, something that only now he’s vowed to work on. He seriously needed that reality check.

What do you want to stay here for? Excitement, friendship, some kind of stubborn need to see this fight through to the end? You’ve come too far to give up now after all, it’s the eve of the end. You’re either going to die pathetically or be instrumental in the conclusion of a conflict which has been a long time coming.

Still, you desire more answers.

“Why did you choose me?”

Sombra blinks himself out of his stupor, his interest reignited by your sudden query. “Why?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “why was I the one to be brought here?”

“Fate?” He answers, unsure of his own answer.

“Retrospectively we could pin anything down to fate, an invisible little hand that pick and chooses where we go, what we do, what happens to us so we can reach an inevitable conclusion. Why did you pick me that night?”

“You won’t like my answer.”

“I can take it.”

“I didn’t choose anybody. I’m sure Fury has spilled some of the details like the loudmouth he is. The spell I used was infinitely complex, but also infantile in effect. For my effort and huge contribution of magical energy my only insight into the realms outside our own was the bright sparks of those inhabiting them.”
“Bright sparks, you mean like souls?”

“Nothing quite as romantic, my hypothesis is that they are directly proportional to your individual intelligence. Previously I had brought through other, less bright creatures, and as already said they were incapable of basic function. The poor things died after a few minutes being unable to breathe properly in their new bodies.”

“And you just brought me through when that happened?” You shout with a sudden flash of anger. “I could have died!”

“But you didn’t. I wouldn’t have gone down that path had I not known whether or not a creature, formerly like you could breathe or not. Don’t take me for some idiot, doing things by whimsy or childlike curiosity; I have lived for nearly two centuries.”

Taken aback you sink into your seat. “I shouldn’t have asked,” you relent.

“I understand your curiosity but you don’t know as much as you think you do. Things aren’t that simple anymore.”

In a decidedly foul mood you rise from your seat and head to the door. “I would know if you told me anything.”

“You seem to be doing a fine job of finding out for yourself.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” you huff, closing the door behind you. Sombra lets out a grim sigh as your hoof steps fade away into the distance.

“Hello Warm,” you chirp. The bookish mare jumps slightly, too engrossed in her latest read to notice your approach. Once again you find yourself back in the library with yet another stack of books obstructing your view. A small muzzle pokes from around the pile and lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.

“Did you hear about what is happening tomorrow?” This catches her attention; she closes the book and slides it away.

She grabs the pile of books and places them onto the ground, allowing you to see her face. “No, what’s going on?”

“Fury’s come up with some crazy, long winded plan to ambush all of the rebels. So there’s going to be fighting in the palace tomorrow, you should find somewhere to go until it blows over.”

“Really? It’s not like Mr. Fury to take action like that.”

“Well he’s frustrated with Sombra for not doing anything sooner; it seems like something he’d be willing to do when pushed to it. I’m worried about the staff though.”

She smiles and re-opens her book on paranormal occurrences, “I wouldn’t worry too much, I’m sure they’ll tell the staff what’s going on or at least order us to stay in our quarters. Did you come here to ask me anything else?”

“Not really, just thought I’d let you know,” you say tapping an idle hoof against the wooden table.

Warm looks up from her book and smiles, “Thank you, it’s nice to know that you care about me.”

“I care about all of my friends,” you scoff, leaving her to her reading.

You stare at the ceiling, shifting as an errant itch works its way down your leg. A nervous blossom of warmth in your chest leaves you wide awake. It’s night time and you know that Silver will be there to confront you again. With a sigh you bang your head against the soft pillow, frustrated at your inability to will yourself to sleep.

Can he even hurt you in a dream? That’s silly, there’s no way he could. You’re just making excuses again.

You lock your eyes shut and lay there for what seems like hours. You’re nervous.

“You should be.”

Your eyes snap open, a fractured sea of glimmering crystal floats above you filling out the empty void beyond. In your periphery your eye catches onto the distinct arches of the throne room. With a grunt you sit up, almost head-butting Silver who has brought it upon himself to go in for a kiss of life. He jumps back and gives you a cocky smile.

“What do you want?” You mutter bitterly.

He pouts and rubs his chin, “Hm, I don’t know. Is it so wrong for me to have some light conversation with my dearest friend? This place is dreadfully boring without company.” You don’t reply. “What’s with the long face?” He asks obnoxiously.

You remain stone faced, looking out into the black void beyond the empty window frames.

“Oh! Don’t tell me you bucked him already!” He shouts.

“No,” you respond with burning cheeks, shutting him down, “I just don’t want to engage you; I have enough to worry about.”

“Wedding arrangements and foal names I presume?” He teases while poking your back. “I’m so happy for him! It’s about time.”

“Piss off,” you spit. “Unless you have something interesting to say, zip it.”

Silver makes a zipper motion over his mouth and sits back on his haunches. “Or, maybe I could entice you with a little history lesson about me and Sombra.”

This catches your attention. Your ears perk up slightly, something that he notices.

“Gather round children, as I tell the tragic tale of Silver Shield, former senior mage for the Crystal Empire. Once upon a time there were three brothers, Sombra, Fury and their little bro Silver.”

In retrospect, you should have seen that coming. You look over to Silver, who is growing noticeably flustered at the mention of his family. “Silver always looked up to his big brothers, they were both amazing with their magic, and ruled a huge city and were loved by all of their subjects. So he practiced, day after day after day, until he found out his true calling, blood magic.”

That confirms your suspicions, Silver is a blood mage. “His brothers were really happy with him, and they showered him with praise and worked hard to help him perfect and control his dangerous talent. Little Silver Shield was very skilled, with a large natural magic reserve, and he was soon inducted into the mages guild.”

He stops dead, his eyes growing cloudy as he looks off into the void. He shakes under his fur, slowly picking up speed as he begins to pace again. “Silver really enjoyed it; he got to spend lots of time with his two amazing brothers. But… something wasn’t right.

“I could hear them talking behind my back. About things happening beyond our little slice of paradise in a land called Equestria. I was too young back then to concern myself with that, I trusted them; they always knew what to do. So I was kept blissfully unaware as they went on the warpath, hunting down my fellow blood mages, exiling or outright executing them as they went,” he trails off.

“They came for you,” you say, not as a question, but as a statement.

Silver nods. “They did. With their armies at the ready, they waited outside of our shield. Not content to rid their own nation of the so called menace, but other nations too. They didn’t just want to contain us, they wanted to exterminate us so that we could never do harm.

“The siege was a failure and the Equestrians, battered and beaten, hobbled back to their own land. We celebrated with a big street party,” he smiles.

“But that wasn’t the end? I saw the fatality list Silver, you included.”

His smile vanishes like dust in a gale, “Clever, you’ve done your homework. I suppose there’s no reason for me to hide anything from you.

“That certainly wasn’t the end of our little conflict, it was just the beginning. The citizens had their grievances and their dead to bury, and part of the blame fell onto me and the other blood magic users for attracting them in the first place. Sombra put a stop to that soon enough but the other mages were mad that the ponies they had worked so hard to protect had turned on them so quickly.

“I was one of them. My position of influence as the brother of the King made it easy for me to sway some of them to my side. I found myself as the leader of a counter-movement in support of our right to live as the rest of them did. Sombra, he understood my frustrations and tried to sort things out before they could get any worse. It broke out into clashes within the palace; it was chaos, with the guards confused as to who they should get behind.

“The timing couldn’t have been worse, the Equestrians moved against us again. They’d been waiting, the bastards, for the right moment to strike. They knew what was happening, and now I think that they had something to do with it all. They betrayed us and welcomed them with open hooves, glad to get rid of the blood mage menace…” He winces.

“You don’t have to tell me any more, I can guess what happened.” He looks down to the ground and nods.

“In the end, Sombra did nothing. My own brother abandoned me and fed me to the wolves. I’ve been trying to tell you to stay away from him; all he cares about is himself. He was torn between popular support for his rule and his loyalty to me. After we were all dead, only then did he move in to expel them; leaving the capital in ruins, and the empire without any blood mages.”

One questions slips from your mouth before you can properly think on it, “How did you survive?”

His previously downtrodden demeanor switches drastically, that cocky smirk returning to his face. You’re taken aback once again as he begins to laugh jovially.

“Survive? Who says I did?”

Author's Note

fuck this chapter in particular

Working hard + writers block is a shit combination, have an extra long chapter as compensation.

Riposte

What?

“What do you mean?” you ask the still mirthful stallion.

“What do you think I mean? I’m dead, pushing up daisies, six hooves under!” He shouts as if it were obvious. “Sombra might be a control freak when it comes to the content of his books, but he never lies in them. Unless you count lies by omission…” he mumbles under his breath as an aside.

“How did I see you? You gave me that cart of food, you talked to the commander!”

“You don’t know how being a rogue spirit works, do you? I project myself from beyond for your eyes only; ponies in emotional distress in particular are easier for me to interfere with making you the perfect target. Combined with that collar he put on you, it was a simple task making myself look alive and well.”

“I’m not in distress-” you object before Silver cuts you off.

“Oh please! Not outwardly, but I’ve never met somebody as troubled as you my friend; new body, new world, emotion amplifying collar. You are a goldmine!”

“So you were the one who attacked us with the armor?”

“Indeed, I couldn’t have my only real method of interacting with the outside world lose her luster. If he took the collar off, I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach you anymore; and I was right. I can only talk with you now, through this dreamscape and even that is hanging over the edge.”

“What about the food cart you gave me on the first day?”

“A demonstration of just how bad it was for you, I could make you believe you were interacting with a physical object that wasn’t really there.” Now that he mentions it, the cart did disappear for no reason, and after you ate you were still hungry and had to go down to the kitchen.

“What about you talking to Lily to get me out of that cell?”

“I didn’t, I listened in on her and used it as an opportunity to build your trust in me by posing as a member of their organization. She always intended to release you and use you as an inside mare,” he explains. Are you fucking serious? You gawp at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Don’t do that, you’ll catch flies,” he quips.

“Why go to all this effort? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“What do you think? I used to think petty revenge was beneath a stallion of my station, but it creeps up on all of us one way or another. I wanted to push you to go against Sombra, but it has become clear to me that you sympathize with him,” he claps his hooves together, “well done, you’ve successfully dismantled my plans.”

“That’s it? No final stand, no secret back up plan?”

“Life isn’t like an adventure novel, Rose. I’ve been defeated, and there is no way for me to claw this back. Well done.”
“I didn’t really do much though,” you point out.

“You… defied my expectations,” he wraps a hoof around your shoulder, “and managed to stay the better mare. When you first arrived I saw opportunity, a scorned, angry pony who wanted to take revenge by any means possible. It turns out that I was wrong and my faith was badly placed; you kept your head above the water and have come out all the better for it.”

Not that it makes you feel any better, if anything your insistence on keeping your head down has only been an internal frustration. It might have saved your ass one or two times but now you can’t help but wonder how things might have been had you gone down a different, more driven path. You’re alive, but not exactly well.

The two of you move onto the cold, stone steps. “In fact,” he continues despite your internal monologue, “I’m starting to think that I’ve been wrong the entire time. Here I am after so long and you’ve made me go and doubt myself.”

“Don’t change your mind on my account,” you say shifting on the stone step as it digs into your sensitive behind. “You have every right to be angry about what he did.”

“It wasn’t what he did; it was what he didn’t do. He chose the nation over his own flesh and blood to keep himself in power.”

“To keep everybody else safe…”

“Safe? From us?” you look over to him.

”…No, from the Equestrians. They were knocking on your front door, and from the sound of things it would have been much worse if he hadn’t picked to stay out of it. I find it hard to believe myself, but Sombra really does want to protect the ponies living here.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he grunts.

“Why don’t you? You can move around can’t you?”

“I need an anchor to attach myself to; you’re the most suitable so I’ve spent most of my time following you around. I’ve gone too and fro, like your maid, but she spends most of her time sitting in the library and reading. She’s very concerned for her brother you know.”

“I know. So no secrets for you to fill me in on or traps to warn me about?”

“None as far as I’m concerned. I may be able to anchor myself to Sombra, but he has many safeguards against spies, tangible and supernatural.”

He remains silent, in deep thought on the matter. You look out into the pitch black void and wonder just how safe you really are. Silver has made you feel like an idiot and thrown you for a loop, it seems your previous paranoia was fairly misplaced as he only wanted to keep the collar on you so he could follow you.

He looks back with a smirk, “Don’t look so down about it, you’re not the dead one.” A bitter chuckle follows. You shake your head and lean back, looking up to the ceiling. “I suppose our time is running out for tonight. Please don’t mention this to my Brothers; I don’t want them to worry about me.”

“Okay?”

“And watch out for Fury…” he says as the world begins to fade around you.

You peel your crusty eyes open and wince at the early morning light. Despite having no windows, the crystalline construction of the palace allows more than enough light to filter in through every surface. One thing is for sure, it helps get you up in the morning. Today is the big day. A brush floats over surrounded in your distinctive red glow.

You trot over to the dresser and give your reflection an optimistic smile, which turns into a wince as the magically motivated brush pulls itself through the tangled knot of hair. You need a haircut or whatever they call it here, a manecut?

Your horn sure is pointy now, ending in the same wicked looking spike. The carefully crafted grooves that once noted you as a unicorn have been burned away by an unknown force leaving it smooth and shiny. There is some slight red discoloration at the end which wasn’t there before; similar to Sombra’s, perhaps a consequence of the magic you’ve been using.

It draws a sharp contrast to your still girlish appearance, you might even be considered beautiful by pony standards, with high cheekbones, just the right amount of fat, and a sharp looking pair of ruby eyes. You’re feeling reflective this morning. It’s been a long while since you’ve evaluated yourself.

You place the brush back onto the wooden dresser and glance once more at the large mirror. Your eyes look different, more vibrant and less glossed over, an external reflection of your newfound optimism. You’re going to leave this room today, help stop this war and in the absence of the ability to go back home, find your own place in this world.

Where has all this come from you ponder. The taps run cold as you grab a towel from the rack and wash away the stress of last night’s revelation. Something Silver must have said, that you were in emotional turmoil. You didn’t admit it but he was right, this entire time you’ve been pushed down river by ponies other than yourself but you were too distraught to do anything about it.

It’s given you a burst of confidence, partly in not wanting to prove his observation right. You can’t act like this forever. Eventually you’re going to have to take charge and make your own decisions, and that time is going to be today. The adrenaline is evidently already pumping through you, despite the small inkling of fear inside your chest. There may be bloodshed in the future.

Freshened up and ready to go. As you pass by the mirror you give yourself another go over and a shaky but still optimistic smile.

The mages quarters were unusually quiet. In your mind you had pictured something different, with mages rushing back and forth to finish their last minute preparations. Instead only a few remain behind to ensure that nothing happens to Sombra before the plan can be enacted. The King had greeted you with a nod, but closed his eyes soon after so you decided to leave him alone.

The mages weren’t much for conversation either, still poring over books and tomes. It seems that not even the upcoming battle can quell their thirst for knowledge. A pessimist would describe it as the calm before the storm, for your own sake you refuse to describe it as such.

There isn’t any kind of time piece in the room, odd considering how important keeping on schedule would be for a cabal of the empires mages. It doesn’t do much to quell your unease with the entire thing, sudden confidence boost or not. There’s so much that could go wrong. You’re placing trust in somepony you’ve only really known for a short time.

Not to mention what Silver said, “Watch out for Fury.” Why did he have to do that? As if you don’t have enough to worry about today. Sombra steals a glance at you as your face screws up in anxiousness.

“Nervous?” He asks breaking the silence.

You look over before sighing and laying your head on the wooden table. “What gave you that impression?”

“Your expression, the tenseness of your muscles and you seem to be muttering to yourself.” Did you say that out loud? You hope he didn’t hear that.

“That’s fairly on the nose, did you ever consider that I was using a figure of speech…” you roll your eyes, “pointing it out isn’t going to make me feel better.”

“I did actually. Sometimes honesty is the best medicine.” Well that’s just great. All you need after puffing yourself up this morning is for this asshole to bring you crashing back down again. “You never solve a problem by hiding from it; in fact you just multiply them,” big talk from the stallion who’s about to engage in a Scooby-doo plan concocted by his brother.

Silver’s little story hasn’t done him any favors in your eyes, but it has been equally unflattering for Sombra. At least Silver has the good sense to give up when he’s beaten; a little defeatist really. Sombra isn’t like that and has the opposite problem; he doesn’t know when to give ground. Either way you’re not going to get an un-climatic end to this little saga.

Silver might not be out for the count, your mind butts in like an unwanted ex, he could just be lying to you to get you of his back so he can try and kill you again. For the sake of convenience you didn’t bring that up with him last night. As long as he keeps talking you can hold off, he’s filled in a lot of gaps for you provided that his story was accurate.

It doesn’t really matter right now anyway. When all of this war business is out of the way you can sort out your opinion of him. Right now your job is to sit back, let Fury do most of the work, and run up into the infirmary to make sure he isn’t dead by giving him the antidote.

Author's Note

unhappy with this one tbh, silver isn't done yet and he'll be back later for some resolution with his story

endgame is here, get hype

Dead and Buried

Dead and Buried

Having brick walled Sombra he soon returns to his meditative silence. The other mages shift and cough occasionally, the atmosphere in the room taking a turn for the stuffy. Thankfully, or not in this case, the awkward atmosphere is broken by the door to the outer corridor opening and the scuffling of hooves.

The door opens and a wide purple muzzle pokes around the door frame. “Your majesty,” he speaks addressing Sombra, “Fury has requested that you come to the throne room so we may begin.” Sombra remains still for around half a minute, the courier not daring to speak up again. He rises from his seat abruptly as walks past the quivering stallion. The other mages look to each other and follow suit, filing out of the room in a neat line.

This leaves just you. You have to admit that this room seems a lot less creepy when it’s full of jovial mages. The only sound you can hear is the feint sound of hooves outside of the double pair of doors and that of your own breathing. You scratch the rough wood of the center table and glance around at the banner clad walls.

All you have to do now is wait, and wait you do.

Eventually your boredom gets the better of you and after half an hour of waiting, you arise from the wooden chair and head out into the still hallways. The mage’s room is located fairly far from the throne room, and by consequence far from the action. The corridors are deserted like you’d expected; Warm must have kept the palace staff away.

They should have finished the first phase of the plan by now, Sombra will have been “killed” and wheeled into the infirmary, so now you have to go an revive him. You shuffle under your coat slightly feeling for the cool glass of the antidote tube. With everything you need on you, you set off down towards the infirmary. The route takes you past the throne room, so you have to ensure that you either don’t get spotted, or have a good enough excuse to go past them.

This would have been made a lot easier if they put you by the infirmary in the first place. Hindsight is a bitch.

Nothing of significance occurs until you get closer to the throne room. It is where all of the action is going on after all. It starts of subtly with scratches on the walls and floors, possibly from some kind of bladed weapon. You approach one and feel the groove with your hoof, it’s rough and evidently freshly made as the walls are usually flawless.

Moving on you turn the corner that leads to the throne corridor and stop dead at the sight. The place has been completely demolished, with more of those scratches from before, and black scorch marks indicating the use of some magic. A large bloodstain lies on the surface of the nonabsorbent ground, crimson red and unlikely to dry for some time.

The scent of iron fills the air as you carefully hop over the pool. Drag marks pulls the red carpet into the closed throne room doors, in which you can only imagine what’s currently going on. A devilish idea worms into your head, reminding you of a particular spell Sombra taught you way back when.

Sparking up your horn you reach forwards with your magic and form a connection with the freshly spilled blood. It’s been a while since you’ve practiced this, and some of the details continued to elude you even then, but you have the ability to see what’s going on at least.

Now you need to focus, throne room, throne room. You imagine it in your mind, with its imposing black throne and fantastic view over the empire, the broken chains and the red banners, the steps and the makeshift seating area designed to hold the “noble court.”

Your familiarity with the space allows you to easily form a peeking pool, and with your curiosity still eating away at you, you look down to see a crimson stained rendition of the very same area. The view is placed at the top corner of the room, the back of the throne blocking the view of whoever is seated on it and stood in front of it.

The room is in disarray with a similar amount of battle damage. It’s hard to tell, but darker splotches potentially show a large amount of bloodshed. The view isn’t detailed enough due to your inexperience, but you can make out the general shape of the ponies present.

Several heft long spears above their heads, who must be the rebel soldiers. Two more stand at attention in front of them, Spyglass and Lily? Opposing them stand the mages, wearing their distinctive coats.

Unfortunately your makeshift TV doesn’t come with a built in sound system. The two appear to be shouting at whoever is now seated on the throne, they must be arguing with Fury. Stepping back from the blood stain you decide a different approach is better. With all the stealth you can muster you place a singular ear against the door. It’s muffled, but their definitely shouting about something.

You bite your lip, what should you do? All of Sombra’s guards have been moved away from here after “surrendering” to Fury and Lily. Fury might be waiting on you to burst in with Sombra in tow and help him take them out. Looking between the other end of the corridor and the door you decide it would be better to stick to the plan for now.

You stop yourself from galloping away, still mindful of the armed soldiers just a few meters away from you. Navigating around the blood pool once more you set off for the infirmary. The carnage has been contained solely to the area around the throne room to avoid panicking the civilians down below and to help keep the thing on a tighter leash.

Soon enough you’re jogging (cantering?) down the long empty hallways knowing that nopony else will be here. The infirmary sticks out like a sore thumb, with sterile white doors contrasting the wooden ones used primarily around the palace and that’s before you notice the white backed green cross stapled on the wall beside it.

The lights inside are turned off seemingly to indicate that nobody is inside. In truth this is where Sombra is being kept. You push open the swinging doors and waltz inside, confident that your plan hasn’t been compromised. A small reception area is contained here, with a wooden desk and a seating area. Another set of doors leads to the singular ward within the castle.

You push through the second set of doors and enter into the nearly pitch black ward. You feel on the wall for the light switch before you realize that these lights are magic activated. It’s a simple matter of throwing some energy into them, and one by one you light up the room as you walk down it.

The beds are empty as you’d expect. They closely resemble ones you might see on Earth, with artificial bedframes and soft green sheet covers. Small tables are stood next to them, holding vases with simple flowers and some abandoned clipboards. At the very end of the ward on the left you spot one with the green curtains drawn. You’re lucky nobody wandered in here, it’s not exactly inconspicuous.

Making sure that nobody has followed; you lift up the curtain and slip under it. In the shaded area you can see his heavy form lying still on the bed. You cast some more magic into the provided bedside lampshade, revealing the King in full.

You blush as you’re immediately met with the sight of his genitals, as for some god unknown reason the mages have decided to lie him on his back, giving you a full view of his crown jewels. You know that one of them is chuckling to himself about it right now. Pony cock aside, it leaves you with an interesting thought.

He’s unconscious, and isn’t likely to wake up for some time. This is the perfect time to take a closer look at him. Your heart hammers in your chest as you mount the bed and lean into him with a curious eye. Up close he’s different then what you’d built in your mind.

His imposing air still hovers over you, that much remains; but asleep now you can’t help but view him as less than he really is, not as a king but as a regular pony. His muzzle always puzzled you, with black stripes that make him resemble a lion. The wild mane of black hair on his head extends down onto his nose and is formed into a distinct looking pattern with two downwards arrows, perhaps purposefully.

From a distance you thought they were artificial, but his fur actually turns black and flows with his hair, the same with his rather odd looking sideburns. You reach forwards and brush it slightly before retracting it quickly as if it could bite you. He doesn’t stir.

You feel a bit more confident now and turn your attention to his horn. Only now you notice the resemblance between his and yours, a consequence of dark magic; possibly, but it didn’t happen to Silver, and he used blood magic. He was also a ghost, so it begs the question of whether or not that he could have changed his horn while he was projecting himself to you.

You stroke it, unlike your own which is smooth; his feels more along the line of something like unrefined granite. Nicks and scratches pepper it, giving it a well-worn look. If somebody walked in right now, man that would be embarrassing.

Phallic imagery, both real and fake aside, you take a glance at the rest of him. Broad chest, long legs, he’s well built, another thing that contributes to his intimidating aura. You haven’t seen anybody like him yet. And yes, you do catch another peek at his balls, may as well right? If you didn’t lose it already you might feel a twinge of penis envy.

You’ve wasted enough time. You need to get back to Fury right away to make sure everything has gone smoothly. Pulling the antidote from your pocket you smile as you have managed to keep the thing in one piece. Using your magic you ever so carefully pull the cork from the top and place it down on the bedside table.

Your magic splits of and grasps the bottom of Sombra’s jaw. You only need a little force to get his mouth open. It walks a fine line between pulling it open and forcing it open and you’d rather get this done without snapping it. Slowly but surely you pull it open, he doesn’t stir. Ensuring that not a drop is spilt you bring over the antidote and poise it on the bottom of his lip.

You tip it over and begin pouring the solution in his mouth. You have to make a few adjustments with your positioning to stop it from pooling in the bottom of his mouth. After pouring the entire thing out you reach out and tilt his head back so he swallows the rest, job done!

Now all you have to do is to wait for him to wake up. You pull a seat over from one of the neighboring segments and take a load off your hooves. It’s not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but the curved plastic contours to your back much better than the straight wooden chairs you’ve been using. It’s curious to see such a different styled chair when everything else is made from wood. It must be easier to wash down after somepony has used it.

This is taking too long.

Throwing caution to the wind you scramble back onto the bed and touch his chest with a hoof. He’s cold.

Cold?

You retract it and shuffle on the bed nervously. Leaning down you lay one of your ears on his chest where you presume his heart should be, nothing. Are you listening to the right spot? You shift it around, sliding across his chest in a vain attempt to locate his heartbeat. He remains still.

“No.”

You try again, hoping for something, anything to prove you wrong.

“No, please don’t do this, not now…”

Cold skin, you peel away his eye lids to meet cold, hazy eyes.

“You fucking son of a bitch, you motherfucker!” You scream. “You goddamn motherfucker!” you shout, punctuating every word with a punch to the bed. Pure anger seeps through your veins, you can’t think of anything else, any clever solution to bring him back. But you need to do something before Fury gets to you.

The sound of the door opening freezes your blood. “She’s still in here?” You briefly recognize the sound of his voice; it’s one of the mages.

“I heard somepony shouting. Fury wants us to take care of her,” another one says.

“What kind of ‘take care’?” his friend asks.

“Up to us apparently,” he snickers, the sound of his hooves clumsily slapping against the floor. You remain still trying not to make a sound. “I wouldn’t mind taking care of that ass, you know what I mean?”

The other lets out a disdainful, tired sigh, “Why is it always getting tail with you? This mare is dangerous.”

“Dangerously hot, you mean. Don’t be such a buzzkill.”

“You need to be bucking gelded, idiot. Actually, she’ll probably do it for you.”

They both come to a stop, their silhouettes casting a shadow against the curtain. Your breath catches in your throat, you need to hide! As silently as you can you slip down from the bed, and it being the only hiding spot available, slip underneath it.

“Did you see that?” the smarter one asks.

“What?”

“I think she’s still in there,” he whispers. A magic aura wraps around the curtain and flips it up, revealing a set of blue hooves, and another set of red ones. Red coat… you’ve seen this guy staring at you before; he must be the idiot. Ignoring his friend’s pleas he trots into the room without a care in the world.

“Nope, not a soul other than this dead guy.”

“That dead guy is King Sombra,” the other adds with disdain, “show some respect.”

“What is with you today?” the red one whines.

“As it happens, I’m not in the best of moods today,” he huffs. “Never mind me, where is this mare?”

It’s kill or be killed Rose…

You focus your horn and decide to target the potential rapist first. Targeting a specific part of his body seems to be the best bet. You focus and pour your power into boiling his blood, which begins to take effect almost instantly. The stallion grunts and falls to his behind, clasping the area with both of his hooves.

“What in Tartarus is wrong with you now?”

“I just got really bad heartbur-” he stops, prompting a dash of concern from his partner who steps towards him.

And then the screaming starts; an ear splitting, horrifying scream. Ignoring the horrible act you’re currently committing, you focus on maintaining the spell until he’s dead. He drops to the ground and writhes in agony, bringing him into full view. Even face to face you press on, intensifying the spell to finish the job. His partner is at a loss for what to do.

His face twists in intense pain; he shakes his head wordlessly begging you to stop. You don’t.

“Oh shit, oh buck, oh buck…” the other starts mumbling while backing away.

With a little flourish and a jerk from his fresh corpse the spell ends, leaving one dead mage on the floor of the ward. His eyes are wide and misty, but you don’t feel remorse. He had it coming right? The remaining mage carefully approaches the body, hoping not to incur your wrath upon him. Coming to terms with the situation he scans the ward looking for you.

The remaining mage calms down some as he looks over your victim, “Never liked him anyway.”

A realization, he swings around only to meet the tip of your pointed horn.

“Move, or open your mouth, and I blow your head off.” He nods wordlessly. “Now listen up, you’re going to tell me every little detail about what’s happening, and you’re going to make it snappy. Go!”

“F-Fury wanted to get rid of Sombra because he thought he was dangerous! He slipped some poison into his potion and used it to kill him.”

“The rebels?”

“Probably being dealt with right now.”

So Fury has taken the opportunity to kill Sombra and the rebels, you’re annoyed you didn’t notice it earlier. This entire plan stunk from the moment he introduced these poisons.

“How do I revive him?” you ask turning to look at Sombra’s corpse.

“Revive? What do you mean revive? You can’t just bring somepony back from the dead!” You snarl at him causing him to wince and step back. “Y-You might be able to, but it needs a lot of energy and somepony extremely skilled in blood magic.”

“How?”

“Soulbinding, you use your own spirit as an anchor for his to attach itself to and pull it back into his body. B-but you’ll need a big group of ponies to do something like that, and the binding is permanent.”

So reviving Sombra doesn’t seem to be an option. At least not right now, you’re going to have to handle this yourself. You look at his unmoving body and sigh. The mage clears his throat to catch your attention.

“If I may,” the mage asks, “I would like to assist you in this endeavor.”

“Who are you to do that?”

“Sombra has led us for decades, potentially even longer, but he has never led me wrong. Some of the others are eager to take power for themselves as members of Fury’s new court, but it is something I wish to have no part of. There is no honor in succeeding a leader you have poisoned with your own hoof.”

This could be a trick, but you don’t have much left to lose. You’re probably one of the few ponies in the empire in the position to turn this around. “What’s your name?”

“Frost Snap ma’am,” he bows his head in greeting.

“I have an idea, an extremely risky one that will need your co-operation. As long as you don’t kill me in the process, I think we have a good chance of reviving Sombra and stopping Fury. Can I trust you with this?”

“I’m not the pony to ask that question to,” he says sitting down on the ground.

You still don't like it but... "Good, here’s what we’re going to do…”

Author's Note

as an apology for all the delays, have a quick and larger chapter

I don't usually give away plot details, but just to stop people before they comment with them; no Sombra isn't dead. Please be courteous to future readers and try to avoid posting them in the comments.

Reunited

“So, this completely inexperienced mare successfully managed to kill one of the best mages in the world?”

Frost balks for a moment, “Y-yes sir. She was hidden under one of the beds and got Heat with… a heat spell, by the time I had realized what had happened it was too late.”

Fury sighed behind his desk and rapped his hooves against the wood in an impromptu rhythm. “And you’ve killed her, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Where is the body?”

“I threw her with the rest of them sir. Why, did you want to keep it?”

“No, no; just curious. You are dismissed.”

With a small bow Frost Snap left with room, the door shutting with a click. Fury sighed once more and sunk into his seat. He isn’t surprised; Sombra did start grooming that mare for a reason. Such a shame that he had to remove her from the picture. On the other hand, it would mean more work for him, something that he doesn’t want.

Fury looks back down to his desk, littered with papers for new laws and changes within the empire. The first priority is building a new palace guard, as of now Fury has been forced to deploy his court mages to ensure that nobody gets any funny ideas. A few have already volunteered and returned to their previous posts, but it isn’t enough.

Furthermore, some of the rebels have managed to escape his clutches leaving him short changed. The original plan was to eliminate their leadership, but somehow they got wise to the idea. Somebody had tipped them off, a rat most likely and a rat that Fury can’t find.

He groans again and covers his eyes with an arm. So much work, so little time. How did his brother do all of this on a daily basis?

A chill seeped under Sombra’s coat, awakening him from his dreamless sleep. Slowly, his memory came back to him, he drank Fury’s potion and then… nothing. He rises up wearily, expecting to find himself inside of the infirmary; instead he is met with the empty corridors of his palace. Wordlessly he stands and looks around.

Where are Rose and the others? Did something go wrong?

He turns and walks down the palace’s winding halls, wondering where to go. The throne room seems like a safe bet. The large double doors loom tall over him, but with his ever present confidence he pushes them open. Only then does he realize that something is awfully wrong.

The world in front of him is fractured and dark. Pieces of rubble and glass floating in a black void, the roof of the normally proud throne room tore away to reveal a never-ending darkness. The throne is still stood there untouched, a still body lying at the base of its staircase.

“Hello?” Sombra says moving forwards, the lump on the ground slowly becoming more recognizable. The prone pony turns over, revealing the face of his long dead brother which cracks into an irritating grin. Sombra stops halfway staring at the spirit who suddenly bursts into laughter.

It echoes off the non-existent walls, elated, goofy guffaws that drill into Sombra’s head and leave him on the threshold of an entirely new headache. “Oh man, he got you good!” he screeched, slapping a hoof against the floor in uncontrollable mirth. Sombra stands and bares it; waiting for the pony he thought he would never see again to calm himself.

After two minutes, his patience was at an end. “Enough!” he commands silencing Silver, “What is the meaning of this?”

Silver stands up, still chuckling occasionally and makes his way to his brother who backs off accordingly. “It seems that your time has come to an end, dear brother. I never thought I’d see the day, what finally did you in? Choking on some food? An assassin maybe? Did you fall down the stairs from holding your head too high?”

Sombra’s lips thinned out into an uncomfortable grimace, ending his jubilation. Despite his status as a ghost, Silver doesn’t wish to incur Sombra’s anger and quiets himself. “Why am I here?”

“You’re dead, and your innate connection to me as a brother has dragged you into my little spirit realm.”

“Dead?”

“Dead, pining for the fjords, six hooves under, whatever you prefer.” Sombra remains silent as he considers the situation. He always knew he’d die one day, and betrayal isn’t an alien concept to him. “You remember this day don’t you?” Silver asks pointing to the throne.

“Of course I do, how would I forget?”

“Have you now seen your own error?”

“Error? You imply that there was any wrongdoing on my part.”

“Do not play semantics with me! You know what I mean!”

“No, I really don’t, Silver. Please tell me again about how your own actions were the fault of your brother. If my memory serves me correctly, at the time there was but one pony responsible for your little temper tantrum,” Sombra responds unwaveringly.

“That isn’t what Rose thinks.”

“She isn’t relevant.”

“Yes she is; it doesn’t matter what you think, it matters what others do. How does she look upon you now, with admiration or disgust at the stallion who murdered his own brother?” Silver spits.

“You always were a compulsive liar. I think that she would view your claims with the healthy skepticism that they deserve. At the end of the day does it excuse your past actions? You claim murder, when all I saw was the defense of my people.”

“I tried to protect a persecuted grou-”

“You tried to take over the Empire! The Equestrians were knocking down our door, and you were having a temper tantrum about ponies on the other side of the damn continent!” Sombra yells. Silver is taken aback for a moment by his uncharacteristic anger. “You can accuse me of murder all you like, but don’t pretend that I did it for no reason. You posed a threat to the lives of every stallion, mare and foal living in the Empire.”

“And what else was I supposed to do? Sit back and allow them to come and kill me, because you would have!”

“Because you never listened to me! I told you to stay away, to keep yourself from it; but you jumped head first into it and blamed me when it went wrong,” Sombra huffs turning away. They both remain silent for several minutes.

Silver decides to break the silence, “Tell me brother, what did you do in the wake of my death?” Sombra stays in defiant silence. “What did you do?” he asks again.

Still not facing him Sombra speaks, “I mourned you, despite everything that you did. I held a funeral for you despite the objections of my council and the ponies you put in danger.”

“And will you do the same for Fury?”

“No. At least you gave me the courtesy of facing me with your problems rather than poisoning me and taking my place. I suppose this was inevitable anyway, I failed to learn my lesson from you, so Fury made sure to make it memorable.”

Sombra turns to face his little brother once more, his face having softened. “I will not demand forgiveness from you, but I hope that you can forgive me for not doing enough to protect you or the others.”

“One day, maybe, but not today.”

A crestfallen Sombra looks to the ground and scowls to himself.

“I suppose I can offer you a piece of advice, seen as though you are going to be here for a while. We can watch what is happening on the ground; Rose is in much distress given recent events, making it very easy to spy on her.”

“What is she trying to do?”

“The smart thing I suppose, taking your body away from the palace and gathering some help. I believe she intends to revive you with a soul binding ritual so you can face down Fury and take back leadership.”

“She’s not skilled enough to do something like that.”

“She has a hard road ahead of her indeed. That isn’t going to stop her from trying.”

The small wheels of the mobile stretcher squeak as they roll down the pristine palace floors. Atop it lies the dead body of the former monarch, the one you have to remove from the palace before somebody finds it. Luckily for you with most of the guard disposed of the palace is near enough deserted.

You’ve waited until night to move him. You know for a fact that many of the mages woke up extra early this morning to “prepare” for their master plan. It’s debatable how much planning they actually did given the eventual conclusion. As a direct result many of them have already retired to their chambers for the night.

This means that a skeleton crew is running the place and most likely only guarding essential areas of the castle like the throne room and the personnel quarters where Fury is staying. Despite this your heart still thumps loudly in your chest, if you get caught this could go south very, very fast. Before rounding every corner you take a look first to ensure that nobody is there.

Unfortunately this increases the amount of time it’s taken you. What would normally be a ten minute walk has evolved into an hour long, pants shitting endurance game. You push the thin bed out into the lobby and look over the banister before trying to descend the stairs. There aren’t any guards on the door, but there might be on the outside instead.

There aren’t any ponies out on the streets, Fury made sure of that, you need a new distraction to get them away from the door. You don’t feel like killing anybody else today and you need to preserve your strength for later.

“Rose?”

You nearly jump out of your skin as Frost pokes your side. Biting down on an arm you manage to stifle a scream as the tension that has been building for the last hour is let out like a popped balloon. “Jesus, fuck!” you hiss to yourself. “Never do that again.”

“Sorry, I was just wondering what you’re still doing here.”

“I got paranoid about getting spotted so I made extra sure that nobody could see me,” you explain. “It took me a bit longer to get here. Do you know if there are guards on the door?”

“I can go check for you, you should hide somewhere and I’ll see if I can pull them away for a while.”

You nod and with his help bring the body downstairs. The personal quarters are nearby where Fury is supposedly keeping his hostages. “I’m going into the guard quarters.”

You go left and walk past many, many wooden doors before reaching the end where the dungeon is, it’s been a long time since you’ve been here. You decide to avoid the cold prison and choose one of the rooms instead.

You pick a door at random and open it revealing a very plain room with simple necessities like a bed and a small on suite bathroom. On the ground lies an unconscious pair of guards bound with transparent magical bonds. It would have been a lot simpler if they were made from rope, it’s unlikely that you’ll be able to break them; even then they might have some way of keeping tabs on them. For your own safety you decide to leave them be for now. Stepping over them you leave Sombra by the door and sit down on the itchy bed.

A few minutes later you can hear hoof steps coming down the hall. Carefully you poke your head around the doorframe, Frost waving to you from down the way. You drag Sombra out of the room and down to the entrance where Frost is waiting. “I managed to distract them, hurry up before they come back.”

With a nod you thank him for the help and rush out into the empty city. You have a place in mind to go and hide your contraband, somewhere that Fury won’t think of. The districts pass by in a blur as you rush back to the old tavern where you met with Lily and Spyglass just a few days earlier.

You push open the door and reposition yourself behind the stretcher, pushing it into the bar and closing it behind you. In the darkness you remain still for a moment trying to calm your beating heart.

A glint of light flashes in the darkness, the feel of a cold blade on your neck.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Spyglass whispers.

Author's Note

tfw you scrap a 1700 word chapter because it's rubbish and have to write a new one

Stockholm

“Nice to see you too Spyglass,” you whisper mindful of the blade held up to your neck. “Is this how you greet all of your friends?”

“Do you treat all of your friends like enemies? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that you knowingly led us into a trap,” he looks to Sombra, “and you brought the dead body of our sworn enemy with you.”

“It’s good to know that your eyes still work after bring locked in that cell for so long,” you quip. You swallow nervously, the motion pushing your skin even closer to the sharp edge of the wicked blade he has held in a hoof. A leather strap circles his fetlock allowing him to wield the weapon much like the non-spear using guards from the palace.

“Follow,” he orders coming into your view. His fur is dirtied with mud and splotches of blood. He is keeping one of his eyes closed, as a cut above it is bleeding profusely and blinding him. He shuffles over to one of the dusty tables while keeping the blade close to your neck. Not the most desirable position to be in right now.

He seats himself and pats one of the chairs closest to him. You stiffly sit down and watch as he shudders with heavy breaths for a moment. He composes himself and detaches the blade from his leg, placing it down on the table. “Sorry, just a precaution you know?” His good eye traces your body. “I suppose you weren’t involved with any of the fighting?”

“One dead mage, that’s all.”

A brow rises (at least over his good eye). “A mage? Why are you squabblin’ with those fellas?” he says slipping back into his natural accent.

“Why the fuck do you think I’m wheeling in Sombra’s dead body?” you shout, suddenly very angry with today’s events. Now that you’re out of relative danger things have come crashing down. Sombra is dead, and the only man in power right now will kill you on sight. Why couldn’t things be simple?

“Because Fury killed him?”

“But he wasn’t meant to! The only reason he did that is so that all of you thought he was dead, giving him the opportunity to kill you all.”

Spyglass looks like somebody has just slapped him in the face, as if he hadn’t quite figured out everything yet. “I’m an idiot.” He mumbles collapsing onto the table, “Why did I fall for that…”

A pang of guilt emerges in your mind, he fell for it because of you, and you sold out one of your friends so you could kick back and relax. “You fell for it because of me.”

That catches his attention, his ears perking. He gives out a muffled “How?”

“I rescued from the dungeon, built your trust in me and then kept all friendly with you, when it in reality I couldn’t really care that much about your struggle. When presented with the opportunity, I readily sold you out to a pair of legitimately horrible people.”

Spyglass trots over to the stretcher and looks at Sombra’s still body. “It doesn’t matter much anymore; it’s too late to do anything. He’s dead, and we’re right back to square one with a different fella’ on the throne.” He pokes his side with a hoof and chuckles to himself. “Ah can’t believe it, he’s really dead.”

“Not what you were expecting is it?”

“Nah’. I suppose after all the time and effort we spent trying to do this, the reality wouldn’t live up to expectations.”

“I always thought it was a bad idea. We’re in a vulnerable city and Sombra is really the only guy who knows how to run and protect the place.”

Spyglass retakes his seat, “We were planning on getting some other ponies down here when all of it was said and done to help out, but that ain’t happening now. Lily is dead, Fury got her, and I don’t know much about the people she was talkin’ to.”

“I’m trying to revive him actually. Fury wants to kill me for one reason or another and I’d much prefer we go back to the status quo where I wasn’t in immediate danger of being executed. I need a place to stash his cadaver until I can get everything together.”

“Why the hell would I…” he trails off, “Damn.”

“You owe me. I want to hide his body down in this little cavern of yours.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” he whispers to himself, a frown on his face. With a sigh he nods his head and moves back to the cart. “Let’s get him downstairs then.” With Spyglass’ help you push the cart behind the bar and offload the body. Spy reaches down to the wooden flooring and pulls up some of the boards to reveal a hidden passage. A set of wooden stairs lead into the darkness.

Taking one end each you pull Sombra down, carefully as to not damage his fragile corpse. With any luck you’ll be done by the days end and you won’t have to worry about decomposition. The cavern is eerily silent apart from the occasional dripping of a stalactite somewhere down the way. Spy seems to be on edge.

A few meters from the stairs you decide to leave the stretcher and the body, reasoning that it’s unlikely that Fury will look down here now that the rebels have been wiped out. “What are you going to do now?” you ask the bloodied stallion who is leaning against the cave wall.

“Probably going to head back home, reunite with my folks. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them,” he gives you a bitter smile.

“Did you know who Lily was in contact with for those supplies?” you press. “I’m not entirely convinced this was an Equestrian effort.”

“You have just as much of an idea as I do, Lily never revealed much about what she did outside of our skirmishes. A lot of the guys were just happy to follow her orders and get things done, but for me it wasn’t enough. There was always something off about the situation. I heard some pretty nasty rumors running up and down those tunnels.”

“Rumors? What like?”

“Well for starters, some of them didn’t think that everything we received from them was above the table. We got our weapons and food and medical supplies, but some of the crates didn’t get opened and dragged off into the commander’s personal quarters.

“Other times new blood came into the caves without so much as an acknowledgment from the commander. We weren’t in the position to ask prying questions about it, but I did wonder how we were sneaking all of these soldiers into the city. They acted pretty weird too and were often distant, keeping in their own little groups.

“One of the troops started some stupid rumor about Changelings running amuck in our ranks, the commander put a stop to that quickly, but that only added more fuel to the fire. I could tell she didn’t trust them; she had one eye on them all the timed to make sure they didn’t get any silly ideas about attacking her.”

Changelings? Not to discount Spyglass but to you this sounds like a load of bullshit. He himself did say it’s a rumor. You can understand Lily’s paranoia given the current state of things, but why would she walk into Fury’s trap like that without any kind of backup plan? Spyglass is giving you the impression that he’s the only one left alive who entered the throne room.

Nothing conclusive by any means, however it appears that the Equestrians were providing some kind of aid to assist in the rebel’s war. Furthermore, why would changelings want to take over the Crystal Empire? It’s more likely that this anonymous benefactor has some kind of previous connection with Lily herself.

“So do you think it was only the Equestrians helping you? Or someone else?”

“Both, we always ended up receiving supplies from somewhere after Lily took charge. I had no idea where they came from but we didn’t complain about the new bedding and medicine. Most of the guys either died or gave up, but I was there early enough to know that this was from before she announced our co-operation with the Equestrians.”

“I thought you worked for their military?”

“I used to, they picked me back up as a correspondent for us back to them and I was happy to help. I didn’t come here with the intent of annexing the place, I just wanted to help relieve these ponies from the weight of his tyranny,” he explains motioning to Sombra’s corpse.

“Replacing one tyrant for another,” you scoff. “What did you expect to happen, for Celestia to ride in on her golden chariot to liberate the ponies from the evil dictator? She doesn’t give a shit! All she wants is an opportunity to come in and annex the place so she can add it to her little kingdom, maybe even install a new ruler to give the illusion that these people have been helped.

“She won’t care if you fail and all die fighting, to her it just pushes back her plan. You’re a number, a strategic asset that she can toss away like yesterday’s garbage when it fancies her!” you shout.

“And you believe that Sombra is any different? A few months ago you hated his damn guts for stealing you away from your old life and putting you in danger! You came into the dungeon for the simple purpose of helping to rescue me, and for what? Are you just going to throw that all away?”

“You’re damn fucking right I’m going to throw it away! I don’t want to be killed thank you very much!” Spyglass is stunned into silence. “We aren’t living in an ideal world; I’m not living in an ideal world; so why the hell are you pretending we are? Fury wants to kill me and you’re here talking big about how you want me to liberate the place.”

“You don’t owe him anything; you could easily just come with me to Equestri-”

“-and get killed by the princesses for being a blood mage.” you cut him off. “The only way I’m getting out of this in one piece is to push things back to how they were. I don’t owe him anything, that’s true, but at the end of the day I’d much rather stay beside the man who doesn’t have a knife pointed at my back.”

Spyglass bites his tongue and turns away, not wanting to meet your gaze. Why did you expect anything else, he’s just like the rest of them. He’s lived a life of relative comfort, basking in the knowledge that if anything goes wrong his precious princess will come to save him. That’s why they failed; they thought that if they stood their ground and waited for good things to come to them, they would.

You know for a fact this isn’t true. Sombra has repeatedly asserted that Celestia had at least some part to play in the eventual extermination of the blood mages. There’s obviously more to it than the simplistic version he gave you, but for now you can assume that her attitude hasn’t changed one bit. On the outside she presents herself as warm and motherly but in reality she’s just as cold and calculating as the rest of them. How can a creature that has lived for thousands of years not be?

“I did so much to get here…” Spyglass whispers, “but now it’s all come apart.”

He turns back, eyes misty. He shakes his head and looks back over to Sombra. “What about all the things I did? I killed people; I did things that I’ll never be able to take back. I should just give up? Go back to how things were, living happily in the desert with my family?”

Cold and callously you reply, “I don’t care. You can appeal to me to validate your mistakes, but it won’t do anything. The only pony who has to forgive you is yourself.

“I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, and now I recognize them. I’m trying to fix them. Why can’t you do the same? This entire thing was doomed from the start, the only thing you can do is pick up the pieces and get out while you’re still ahead. I’ve lost everything, my home, my family, my friends, you still have those.

“You still have your family waiting for you back home, you have people who care about you and are concerned for your safety. Don’t begin to pretend that you understand what it’s like, you have no idea. You can pack it up, go back to them and they won’t bat an eyebrow at it. All I’m left with is a maid, and a dead body. There’s no going back for me, and I have to cling on to what I have for dear life before I lose it.

“That’s why I’m here, that’s why I’ve defied Fury and dragged his corpse into this tunnel, and that’s why I’m going to match into that throne room and make him suffer like he’s never imagined.”

Spyglass stares at you, his previous sadness all but forgotten under the weight of your rant. It feels good to get it out in the open for once instead of hiding it away. Maybe you didn’t realize before, but you’re really no better than Sombra, a sad, lonely individual who does everything in her power to hurt those close to her. You sold out Spyglass and Lily; you are directly responsible for their deaths. You could have easily put a stop to this, yelled, called out to them and warned them not to fall for it.

But you didn’t.

The two of you, kindred spirits perhaps. A difference in passing opinion, a glance in a different direction, but as heart you are the same. You didn’t wince when you killed a man, and you didn’t wince or cry when you did it again. Here in front of you; a storied veteran of the conflict is on the brink of tears thinking about his actions while you blow him off.

“Rose?” Spyglass asks almost fearfully. “Are you… okay?”

You give him a morbid, sorrowful smile, “I’ve never felt better.” After all, you do deserve this.

An oppressive silence has reigned over the throne room for hours. While normally suspended by the presence of armed guards and the glare of the King, this new silence is brought about solely by the presence of two stallions, bounded by blood, who hate each other for actions that the other consider to be righteous. The fallen, arrogant king and his desperate, frenzied brother; a rare twist of fate that the two should reunite in such a way.

Outwardly Silver was nervous. Despite already being dead, he still fears the fury of his older brother as if his dark magic had any reign over the realm of the spirits. Sombra can do no harm to him, but it does little to calm his nerves. Sombra stews in one corner of the room, his shoulders shaking in silent anger.

“How long will I remain here?” the former Kings asks, jolting Silver from his stupor.

“Your friend has successfully moved your body from the palace and into hiding, good progress for just one mare. She appears to have recruited one of the mages to assist her in attempting to revive you.”

“Appears?”

“My observations aren’t always perfect; I must preserve my power to ensure the longevity of my stay here.”

Sombra huffs, “Maybe you should use all of your power and spare me from your incessant whining.”

Silver doesn’t respond not wanting to give him reason to speak again. He much preferred it when he was silent. “A meeting with some of the other sympathizers reminds me of a certain something,” Silver muses, his eyes glancing to the frustrated King in silent mirth.

“You will do well to not bring up your childish insubordination in front of me; lest I remind you of the consequences of your temper tantrum,” Sombra hisses with sharpened eyes.

“And what would that be brother?”

“The extermination of the ponies you sought to protect, driven out from my fair city, a view supported by your actions; a group of unstable individuals too dangerous to keep within our ranks.” Silver winces but stands strong.

“Brother I-“

“The subsequent invasion and slaughter by the Equestrians, killing far more, the formation of the Equestrian inquisition and the deaths of thousands, both guilty and innocent.”

“I must insis-“

“You do not insist brother, you have no right. Your actions speak for themselves. You levy the blame on me, but there is no fault on my part to be found. I did what I must to protect my people.”

“And so did I!” Silver shouts, his composure cracking.

“Hm. We can all see how that turned out.”

Silver’s objections dies away like a candle in a blizzard; a cold shudder runs up his spine as an empty feeling settles in his stomach. He turns away once more and attempts to calm himself, but the proximity to the stallion he considers a monster is too much for him to steady himself.

“Do not pretend, or hide away from your responsibilities. You are talking to a stallion who witnessed them first hoof. Your indignant wails of persecution and desecration fall upon deaf ears, here there is nopony who can hear you. You pretend that the seeds of life spread beneath your hooves, and that we should all bow to you.

“But all that follows you is the smell of death, a repugnant, horrible smell that you cannot expunge from your fur, from your nostrils, from your mind…” The statement hangs in the air unchallenged as Silver shuts his eyes can curls into a ball, hoping to shrink away so that Sombra’s prying eyes can no longer see him.

Looking down at the pitiful stallion Sombra smiles in contempt, this is the pony he remembers from his youth, “…good to see you brother, it has been a long time since we last spoke.”

Author's Note

here it is

Dependence

Spyglass’ tail fades into the darkness, presumably for the last time you’ll see him. You don’t know where he’s going, or where the tunnel leads, but you really don’t care. There must be a way for him to get out of the Empire and back home; he did get here after all.

Still smiling you return to the bar floor. Spyglass has left his blade on the table which may come in handy later. Your magic is great and all but it pays to have some options when worse comes to worst. With a sigh you sit back down on one of the chairs, more waiting, just what you need.

Exhaustion has taken you; it’s been a long day with no time to rest. The chair isn’t the best place to sleep, so you walk over to the bar and climb on. It would be much nicer if you had a pillow or something, but you have to make do with what little you have. Seeing an opportunity you close your eyes and drift off into a dreamless, uncomfortable sleep.

Three hard knocks rattle the wooden door and jolt you awake. How long were you out for? With a groan you hop down and wince at the feeling of several new aches running down your body. You should have found a bed instead of collapsing on that bar. The door is knocked once again. Ignoring the pain you hobble over to it and open a small peep hole, glancing out of the small opening you see Frost alongside several other mages.

You recognize most of them. Taking a calming breath you open the door and hurry them inside, checking outside to make sure nobody has followed. Some of them seem surprised by your presence; they must have presumed that Frost was telling the truth earlier. It’s crazy how trusting some people can be.

Locking the door with a deadbolt you turn around to see the group standing around awkwardly. They don’t seem to be very sure of themselves. You personally don’t like having to take charge, but it seems these all powerful mages aren’t very good individually. “Sit down, we need to talk.”

They scramble about and procure seats for themselves. They sit around you like schoolchildren. Frost gives you a bemused shrug and grabs a seat himself, sitting down near the back. This is going to be harder than you expected. You consider how much you want to tell them, if you aren’t careful one of them may run back to Fury and blow your whole plan.

By Frost’s word these are the mages who disagreed with Fury’s plan but were threatened into compliance. You aren’t quite as sure as him though, it wouldn’t serve you well to tell them everything before you even know if they’ll help you. Sombra’s body is the most valuable thing you have, and to lose it will doom you.

For now you’ll have to skirt around that issue and find a baseline interest from them all. Clearing your throat to catch their attention, twenty pairs of eyeballs are suddenly on you. This makes you a lot more nervous than you originally expected. Keep it together Rose.
“I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve arranged this meeting today.”

Your rhetorical question pulls a few answers from them, a few nods and whispers. “Recently, a prominent member of our government and mage union has betrayed our former King, and taken the seat for himself. I don’t need to say this, but this cannot stand.

“Clearly his intent is to simply consolidate the power for himself, a selfish and short sighted goal that will only harm the common pony living here in the Empire. Our words will mean little to nothing now that Fury is sitting on the throne, and the average citizen’s word will soon follow. This is the track he’s set us on, but now I desire to derail his plan before he causes unneeded suffering for everypony here.

“I have gathered you here today to ask you a question. Are you going to sit back and allow an in-experienced and power hungry stallion take over the Empire you’ve worked so hard to protect? Frost has picked you out as those who may be the most sympathetic to our plan, and I hope that you are all considering joining us.”

“Or what?” one of the stallions down in front asks confrontationally. Think fast.

“Or I’ll do what I did to the other fool who tried to take me down; I’ll boil you from the inside and watch as your internal organs rupture. Simple.”

Your threat seems to have worked as he backs down and casts an uneasy glance at his friends. You’d prefer not having to use the threat of violence because it makes them less cooperative in the long run, but for now you need to put your hoof down and take charge before they get some funny ideas.

“My plan is simple, with your help I wish to revive the King, and then with his help we can storm the castle and kill the bastard; any questions?”

A small show of hooves follow, some hesitant to raise it lest they incur your wrath. You point to a green unicorn that is seemingly very eager. “How are we going to revive him?” he asks. Several of the others nod in agreement with him.

“I thought you guys were skilled magic users? Put two and two together, by using a soul binding spell to pull him back into the body.”

Frost pulls you aside for a moment while the mages begin to chatter amongst themselves. “I’m sorry to tell you this now, but it doesn’t seem like a great idea. Sombra’s already done that spell once to bring you here, at least that’s what I think, to do so twice would be extraordinarily dangerous.

“He has a much stronger anchor to this world than you do, there’s the risk that instead of you pulling him back here, that you’ll be pulled out of your body instead.”

You consider his words for a moment, this is the first time you’ve heard of such a thing. An idea strikes you. “That’s why we need to use more people; if there are more of us we’ll have a bigger anchor.”

He nods in understanding. “Ah! So not only will it amplify your power, but it’ll also help mitigate any nasty side effects. I didn’t consider that.”

He steps back and allows you to continue your Q&A session. A lot of the questions are minor and require little to no thought to answer, while some of them are real problems you’re only just now noticing thanks to them pointing them out. A few of them seem unsure about the whole thing. A bit of good natured positive reinforcement is given from their peers and they soon fall in line.

You ask for silence, “So, is everybody here in?” A chorus of ayes follow, “I’m placing a lot of trust in you all with this; we need to take back the Empire before he causes any more damage.”

You pull Frost away from the chatting group, “Is there anything else we need to perform this spell?”

“Not really, although a magical catalyst would be helpful; casting a spell like this can put a lot of strain on the body.”

A magical catalyst? Where have you heard that before? You remember it from your first few days, that's right, Silver wanted you to find one for him.

“…You don’t need, need one, but it would make things a lot easier.”

“We don’t exactly have the luxury of time here Frost. Even if we did where would we find one? If it means sneaking somewhere I don’t want to risk it, we’re on thin ice as it is bringing all of these guys here. If Fury catches wind of this we’re in serious trouble.”

“I know, I know. But I just think we’re pushing our luck with this resurrection idea. We barely have enough ponies to get this done,” he frets. The worry on his face is clear as day, but like you said, you need to get this done fast before somebody finds out that half of the guild is missing.

“Is this really everybody willing to come with you?”

He sighs and looks back to them, “These are the ones who took the hints I dropped. Some of them either support Fury or just didn’t catch my meaning. It’s unlikely that we’ll manage to get many more down here.”

“Then we don’t have much of a choice,” you conclude pulling up the floorboards. It feels kind of redundant now, but you aren’t willing to take chances when your life is on the line. Crawling down the steep wooden steps you spy the stretcher once again. “C’mon, help me bring this back up.”

Using your combined magic you pull the stretcher back up. Flashbacks to moving an old couch flash through your mind and you repress a sudden impulse to shudder. The bar floor grows silent as you remerge with the dead body of the now disposed King. A few whisper swears to themselves in disbelief, never in their lives have they ever considered seeing him in such a state. Others look away in obvious disgust.

You part the crowd and wheel him to the middle. More gasps and exclamations of sadness follow. You roll your eyes; Frost wasn’t lying when he said that these fellows were the ones who liked Sombra.

You turn to Frost, “You’re going to have to guide me, I’ve never done this spell before.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s hard to learn but easy to master. You’re a fast learner right? Just keep yourself focused and we won’t have a problem.

“It’s going to be easy at the start since the two of you already have an innate connection with one another from the original soul-binding. Channel your magic through his body and close your eyes tight.”

With a nod you step up to the plate. The crowd around you becomes silent once more by Frost’s insistence. You need to keep focused and sudden noises will put you off and potentially into the path of danger. Lighting up your horn you take a deep breath and surround his body with your aura. Already you can feel something, you’re not quite sure what, but it’s there in your mind’s eye.

“Now, can you feel his connection to you? You need to strengthen it. Focus your magic on that connection; imagine it as a thin string that you need to turn into a strong rope.”

You grasp the connection and feel its effects. A new presence fills your mind, watching you. It is thin and weak, and with your magic you shall thicken it to a point where you can pull him back. Pouring your energy into the nether the presence becomes stronger and you become increasingly aware of his thoughts and emotions, that’s Sombra alright.

“Good. Don’t panic, but the others are now going to use you as the magical conduit we need to pull him through into our world. You’ll feel strange and extremely aware of everything around you, but you must stay focused on that bond.”

He counts down from three. A smell of ozone fills the air as a gallery of horns fills the room with multi-coloured light that penetrates your eye-lids.

Then it hits you.

You gasp as a surge of energy rushes through your body. The bond is momentarily forgotten as everything around you pushes itself into your mind forcefully. It’s difficult to focus on one thing as a cacophony of sensations crashes against you. You feel like you could run a thousand marathons without breaking a sweat, you feel fantastic!

Without even opening your eyes a vivid picture of the bar is delivered to you. Every sight, sound and smell. It’s overwhelming, from the individual sounds of each pony drawing a breath, to the slight scent of perspiration from one of the stallions near the back. You struggle to breath as you throat constricts, keep calm, don’t panic.

You need to keep your mind on one thing; the tether between you and Sombra. The power of every pony in the room flows through you and works to reinforce the connection. “Good! You’re almost there, now reach out and pull him back.”

You tug and pull on it with your mind, feeling no small amount of resistance at the other end.

Sombra gasps and jerks forward, his whole body being pulled by an incredibly strong force. It catches the attention of the now humbled Silver, who rolls his eyes and turns away, not wishing to give him the benefit of knowing what is going on. Even in their last meeting they still bite at each other’s throats. Silver had initially had some small hope of bringing Sombra round to his point of view, but it seems Sombra is content with sticking to his story.

Sombra was right, he had bucked up royally but he would never admit that in front of his brothers. What difference does it make anyway? He’s already dead; his body too decayed and damaged to possibly be revived. Another gasp, Sombra collapses to the floor. He breaths rapidly trying to calm his fraying nerves.

A small favour perhaps, this is the last time they will see each other. “Don’t panic brother; it seems that your guardian angel is here to rescue you.”

“W-what?” he gasps.

“A soul binding spell, I’m sure you’re very familiar with it. She’s done a good job hasn’t she? I thought Fury would have burned your corpse by now. A resourceful one isn’t she? I can only imagine what you’re planning to do with her. Following the path of those before to an untimely end would be a tragic waste of talent.”

“I’m not going to… kill her.”

“Of course you aren’t.” Silver mutters sarcastically. A poignant silence fills the air. “This will be the last time we speak.”

“Were you expecting an apology?”

Silver bites his lip and smiles, shaking his head. “No, not at all.”

And with that, Sombra’s world fell away around him. The horrible sensation of falling at blinding speeds hits him, his stomach rockets up into his chest cavity and leaves him feeling ill. The fractured castle shrinks above him leaving only the black void.
Just as quickly as it started, it ended.

Back up above Silver collapses onto the ground and covers his eyes. No peace to be found in his own world. Even now on reflection he realizes that he would receive no closure from speaking to the stallion that he had backstabbed, his own flesh and blood. Silver looks to the shattered ceiling, his eyes wet with fresh tears.

The castle fades away into the darkness. The stallion remains motionless. He had always seen this coming; maybe his own short sighted pride had convinced him that he was the better of the two, the one who was fighting for freedom and safety, rather than a selfish compulsion to preserve his own status and life.

His hoof reaches, hoping to grab onto something, anything to protect him. A cool wind flows through the throne room, casting away his fur and body into dust never to be reassembled. He is far too weak to keep himself together any more. A fleeting thought fills his mind, a desire to just have a few more seconds with himself, but his is a realm without mercy or intelligence.

The void closes in around him, and he thinks no more.

Your eyes snap open, attentive and sharp. A gasp rises from the dry throat of the King, who sits up and demands for one of the mages to bring him something to drink. You step back as his eyes scan over the crowd, resting on you. Without looking he snatches the drink from a nervous looking mare and drinks deeply, without breaking eye contact.

Everybody in the room is hanging on his word, waiting for the first order to be given. They find themselves disappointed when he decides to address you instead.

“You are a sight for sore eyes indeed. I was beginning to think that I was going to be imprisoned with that insufferable fool forever,” with a roll of his eyes he rises from the table. Despite your speedy response and resurrection, it’s evident that decay has taken hold of some of his muscles as he stumbles to his knees.

Several step forward in concern causing him to wave them off. From his position on the ground he looks up to you. “I’m impressed; truly impressed. I never expected you to be capable of casting such a spell.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it without that kind of confidence backing me up,” you jab. He looks around, mild bewilderment on his face.

“Where are we?”

“The bar, you know the one right?”

“Why?”

“Fury poisoned you.” Sombra looks at you for a moment searching for some kind of dishonesty. When he doesn’t see it he looks to the stern faces of the mages, who nod along to your answer.

“Of course, I should have known from the very start that he was after my place.”

“We need to take advantage before Fury notices that most of his new court have gone missing,” Frost interrupts. “I’m sorry my liege, but may we continue this line of inquiry at a more convenient time?”

“I suppose there isn’t much time for us to waste. I don’t suppose that you have come up with a plan to retake my throne?”

“Go in and kill him?” one of the mages offers. Sombra rolls his eyes and shakily rises; with the assistance of his mages he takes a seat at one of the tables.

“I’m in no shape to take part in this fight. I must entrust such a responsibility upon all of you. Fury will be amusing himself with some mild curiosity; no doubt, he was never a proactive sort. We have the advantage of surprise. Do any of you happen to be informed about the palace’s tunnel network?”

You look to the bewildered faces of the gathered ponies, who shake their heads and shrug.

“I wasn’t expecting you to, only I know about it. A little secret for the King helps keep me on the throne. We can use it to sneak into the palace, but from there it will be direct combat with whomever he has assembled to assist him.”

“We could free the guards; the idiot is keeping them next to the front entrance,” you recite, remembering the bound stallions.

“No, he most likely has them held in magic binds. He’ll know if somepony breaks them, and will send ponies down to investigate.”

“So we use it as a distraction. Draw away his personal guard and add some more numbers to our side.”

Sombra nods approvingly at the idea. “Interesting. With his forces tied up downstairs, a smaller force would be free to assault the throne room and eliminate him. From there you could regroup downstairs and force the rest to surrender. Somepony bring me some parchment.”

A large piece of paper is retrieved from… somewhere and placed onto the table, a quill soon following. With steady strokes he begins to paint a general image of the palace’s floor plan, complete with a set of smaller tunnels that run between rooms. You and Frost peer over his shoulders as he works. Satisfied with his work, he places the quill down and asks the rest to gather round the table.

“Rose, Frost and some others can start here,” he points to the back, outside the palace itself. “There’s a small passage nearby that leads into the downstairs bedrooms. That’s when the rest burst into the lobby and retrieve the nearby prisoners. Fury’s loyalists will come running, so prepare yourselves for combat.

“While they are engaged, Rose’s team will move upstairs and move to the throne room. Facing the doors you must turn left and then right to enter the side corridor. Behind the second pillar is a switch which will give you access to the upper floors network, remember to close it behind you. Several locations have other entries or windows that will let you look for him.

“Finally when you’ve found him, regroup and kill him. It will not be a challenge, especially considering your superior numbers. Once you’ve finished off his forces downstairs, I want the rest of you to watch the stairways to make sure he doesn’t escape.”

“Are you sure about this? Do you really want to kill him?” you ask. “It isn’t something you can't take back.”

Sombra evidently does not wish to answer such a question in front of everybody. He swallows and looks around, everywhere but you. “Yes, I am sure of it. What is one more to the list?”

“Okay... Let’s do it.”

Author's Note

hype

New Friends

You didn’t like leaving Sombra behind on his own, especially after the trouble you went to bringing him back. By his insistence though you are being forced to go after Fury with Frost, and two other mages called Iron and Steel; they look very similar, with grey coats and white manes, with different eye colours, one red and one blue. You briefly wonder if they could be related.

Some of the citizens have since returned to the streets. They don’t know what has happened yet, as they blissfully ignore you and your comrades as you walk around the back of the palace. You pass a pair of gossiping mares, who are discussing the recent battle. “I heard that he’s not holding court today so he can rest. I imagine it was very stressful for him,” one titters. She has no idea.

According to Sombra there’s a secret entrance by one of the legs. The other mages haven’t moved in yet, you still have plenty of time to spare. Iron and Steel peel away to keep watch while you and Frost look for the passage. It can only be revealed with a special revealing spell. Since the majority of the people living in the empire are non-unicorns, it means that the passage itself is impossible to find without already knowing its location.

You and Frost begin to scan the large pillar for any sign of a switch or magical trigger. It’s meant to be invisible, so the only way to find it is by activating it with the spell. Some of the nearby ponies give you weird looks as you blast the pillar with small spikes of magic, but they know better than to question the mages.

A few minutes later you hear the tell-tale sign of something shifting underground, Frost peers around the corner, “Did you get it?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, let’s just get going before somebody cries wolf. Iron, Steel; we found it!”

A staircase has appeared behind the pillar, shielding it from the view of those stood on the street. It leads down into a surprisingly well-lit tunnel, wide enough for about two ponies standing side by side. You decide to lead the way and walk down into it, almost immediately there’s another staircase that spirals up into the palace via the pillars.

“So these pillars were actually hiding staircases the entire time?” Frost asks in wonderment, “There must be a lot about this place that I don’t know.” All of the other pillars have staircases in them, so you don’t know why he’s so amazed that the one not available to the public has one in it.

Ignoring him you push on and begin to ascend the spiral. You don’t think Frost is a fan, as he is showing signs of fatigue already. “Are we there yet?” he mutters in-between heavy breaths.

“It can’t be much further now,” Iron says; the first noise from the stallion thus far.

“At the top we turn left at the first junction and that should put us into the lobby,” you recite. Sombra made his instructions very clear, and this was too important for you to forget. “From there we wait until the others get here, and then we make a dash for the upper floor. “

You pull away from the stairs and into another similar sized passage. A few meters in front of you is an immediate left turn. You take the left and continue for another few minutes, eventually coming to what would otherwise be a dead end, in reality this is another hidden door that can be used to sneak around the palace.

You signal for the others to stop. There are most likely ponies on the other side guarding the door and if you make an out of place noise it could raise their suspicion. You remain silent for what seems like an hour, before the squeaking of an opening door can be heard through the thin wall. You lean towards the wall and place an ear to it.

A muffled conversation is being held but you can’t tell who it is or what it’s about. You jump as two projectile spells are fired off in rapid succession. That’s your cue. “Find the switch,” you order to the other three. A few more spells are fired, but for the most part things remain silent. You can hear the sound of hooves running against the hard floor.

A door is opened in the distance, and more hooves join the precession. They must be releasing the guards. This happens several more times before somebody shouts, and the clashes start anew. You can’t tell how many are there.

Your question is answered as the door lifts away vertically, revealing an already trashed lobby. Unconscious and potentially dead bodies of two mages lie near the front door, looks like they pulled the short straw for guard duty. The mages have already taken up defensive positions, waiting for the enemy to come to them. They hide behind the pillars and some overturned tables as the now free guards scramble to gather some weapons.

Soon enough more hooves clop down the upstairs corridors giving away the arrival of several more mages and a few guards, who either have been freshly hired or convinced to work for Fury. They don’t get very far, as the multi-coloured reaction fire from those gathered in the lobby cuts them down like wheat. One survivor dives back behind the corner and runs away.

“They can’t have many left! Move and secure the exits!” the leader barks.

Most of the guards leave via the front door to go and secure the other legs, alongside a few of the mages. You briefly worry that they might not be able to handle it with the thin numbers that they have. You’re broken out of your train of thought by a tap on the shoulder from Iron.

“I think we should move up Ma’am. I don’t imagine that they’re going to come running for a while, probably trying to come up with a plan instead.”

Taking the opportunity your small team ascends the stairs. You need to be careful now, you’re in enemy territory, one wrong move and somebody could be firing a lethal spell your way. “Check the corners; make sure nobody’s sneaking up on us.”

Each taking a direction to watch, you slowly move on to the next tunnel; past the throne room and to the left. Fury must have vacated the throne room because of the fight downstairs, nobody is standing guard. Once again you scan the wall with your magic and reveal another sliding door. Frost closes it behind you.

“We need to split up, when you find him come back here. Ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later you have re-grouped, yourself personally not having found anything. It seems Frost has however as he was the first one here. “He was talking with somepony, and they sounded real angry at him.”

“Where is he?” you ask, curiosity ignited.

“His study, I went there first. If we hurry up they might still be going at it."

“Lead the way Frost.”

He nods and leads you back through the passages. The path taken is quite familiar to you, tracing the edges of the main corridors. These tunnels must lead to every damn room in the palace, how did nobody find out about this? Soon enough you’re by another dead end, which supposedly leads into his study.

“Don’t open the door yet, we need to listen in on who he’s talking to.”

Placing your ear against the wall, you can hear the well-defined voices of Fury and somebody else shouting at one another. You don’t recognize the second voice at all. “Is there any way that we can amplify this?”

“We might be able to increase the vibrations coming from the door, would that work?” Steel proposes.

“Try it, this could be important.”

His horn glows and a floating liquid spreads across the doors surface. This physical form of magic is easy to manipulate and is only limited by your imagination. By using a property changing spell on it, he can make the conversation from the room louder. It’s still not very clear, but it certainly allows you to catch some words from their scuffle.

“I didn’t… body… gone… attacked…” Fury yells.

“I supported… supplies and troops… still lost?” a feminine voice responds.

Supplies? Who the hell is he talking to? You strain your ears to try and pick out more.

“Close… dead from poisoning… few left…”

“Finished… go out and face them?”

“…be stupid… no chance… victory!”

“…rebels played their part… your turn!”

“…trust you… changing sides… Always looking for the winning team…”

“No interest in politics… I'm looking for results.”

A loud blast comes from downstairs. The conversation stops for a moment and gradually fades away into the distance. The mare must be deciding to take her leave before she’s caught in the fighting. A single set of hooves walk back and sit down on a creaky chair. You look to the others and nod, it’s time to strike. Frost flips the switch and the door opens, revealing a surprised Fury, whose face quickly turns to that of anger.

Before he can react you fire a blast of red energy at him. He puts up a weak shield to try and block your attack, but he’s still pushed away from the desk and flung to the other side of the room. “Shit, that was easy,” you comment. But as a blast of energy is returned from his prone form striking Steel directly in the chest, you realize that you’ve spoken a bit too soon.

Steel is blasted away into the back wall with a sickening crunch, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. “How dare you!” Fury roars, picking himself up off the floor. “I am the King; I will not stand for your insolence!”

Another blast, this time striking Iron who meets a similar fate. “I do not need any of you! You traitorous curs!”

“Frost, we need to fall back!” you shout, running for the door. “I don’t think we can take this guy on our own!”

He’s already bowled over two of you, what’s two more? Going into this you didn’t realize just how dangerous he really is. You blast open the doors, sending splinters and pieces of wood into the open corridor. Frost scampers behind you as the still fuming Fury gives chase. You focus on the road ahead, trying not to look back at him.

You hear the distinct sound of a horn being charged. At its apex you dive to the left down another corridor, narrowly dodging a huge column of energy. Fury isn’t fucking around. As you run you realize that you’ve lost Frost, and that Fury is now focused on killing you. There has to be some way for you to catch him off guard.

“This is my brother’s pet whore? Pathetic! I barely felt a thing!” he taunts. Another blast flies by your head and shatters the door in front of you. You leap through the hole and curl yourself into a ball, as Fury comes jumping through after you, you release another blast of energy directly onto his underside sending him rocketing into the ceiling.

It crunches and buckles under the impact as his limp body falls to the floor. He lets out a gasp of lost air; it seems he felt that one. Trying to take advantage you stand up and charge at him, intending to finish the job. His eyes widen and he backs away behind a nearby pillar. You stop, this is the perfect opportunity for him to blast you as you round it.

Instead you back off slightly and charge your horn, if you can’t go around, you’ll go through it. You turn a corner but keep an eye on his location; you let it loose and quickly take cover. The pillar explodes into crystal shards that manage to fly past your position and embed themselves in the far wall. A scream is heard, you must have hit Fury very hard.

“You bucking whore! I’ll kill you and rape your corpse!” he screams, writhing on the floor. You can see that he has several pieces of crystal embedded in his back, blood rivulets down his body and leaves his coat smeared and matted. There’s no way he can beat you now. Even so you exercise caution as you approach; you don’t want to be caught off guard again.

Blood runs from his mouth, leaving his teeth bloodied and obscured. The crystal shards are embedded fairly deeply in his back, but you don’t know the true extent of the damage. If he’s unlucky, one of those has run right through the base of his spine. If he is, it will at least give him a punctured kidney or lung.

Still he finds the strength to laugh, droplets of blood falling from his guffawing maw and staining the ground further. “You never learn,” he slurs, evidently suffering from the effects of blood loss. “Never underestimate your opponent.”

You gasp as a blast hits your chest, a dead eyed Frost standing in your peripheral vision. The world turns white as you fly through what remains of the window and fall down into the courtyard below. Your breath is stolen away as you impact the ground hard. You must have broken something. You should have seen that one coming; he’s a blood mage too.

You roll over onto your belly and try to crawl to the door. Somebody must have heard the commotion, you’re stopped as a blue hoof steps in front of your blackened eyes. Looking up, a blur looks down at you. It’s Frost.

Another pony joins him, still coated in his own blood. “You didn’t think it would be that easy did you? You really thought you could take on the most powerful mage in the empire? I suppose you got close, but you severely underestimate the power of an experienced blood mage. His horn ignites and pulls one of the shards from his body, rotating the red gem in the air.

“A clever trick, but you’ll need more than that to kill me.” You can hear the door open and the clattering of hooves, “Ah, my audience has arrived.” His horn sparks once more and a blue beam of light shoots straight up, before a dome shield begins to sprout from it. The others don’t have the opportunity to get to you before he blocks them. They start hitting it with their spears, but it doesn’t do anything.

“This really is perfect. I get to kill my brother’s cock-sleeve, and I have an entire audience to myself. Maybe they’ll think twice before betraying me in the future.”

As fast as lightening the shard shoots into your left forehoof. You scream in agony as the thick shard is wormed into the wound by a jovial looking Fury. He cackles as the still lifeless Frost looks on. Those outside the shield watch in morbid curiosity or look away in freshly renewed disgust. “What ever shall I do with you? I was hoping that my dear brother would be here so I could take your maidenhood in front of him, but it appears that he’s a bit stiff himself right now!”

He laughs at his own terrible joke and nudges Frost in the chest. He still doesn’t respond. “The problem with these blood thralls is that they don’t appreciate some highbrow humour,” he scoffs slapping the zombie around the back of the head. You seethe in anger.

“Rose!” Sombra shouts, hobbling over to the shield. Fury looks up in disbelief at his revived brother. Sombra looks at you, suddenly becoming very sullen and quiet.

“Hmm, isn’t that interesting? You did manage to bring him back after all. I should have burnt your corpse when I had the chance,” Fury spits. “Ah well, we all make mistakes. At least now I can ruin this pretty little mare in front of you. I knew you were looking forward to it. Why else would you keep her around?”

“Is there any blood left in you to inflate that pathetic thing?” you reply. It seems you touched a nerve, as he storms up to you and gets in your face.

“Laugh now mare, but soon enough you’ll be nothing but a bucktoy for my guards.”

“Don’t you lay a hoof on her,” Sombra warns, “or I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

“Save it, you cannot enter my shield anyway. You’re helpless, a whiny little colt who cries when he doesn’t get his way.” Sombra sneers but remains otherwise motionless. He must have something in mind to get in here. You can see it in his eyes though, he’s nearly powerless. For the first time since you’ve arrived, Sombra wears an expression of plain fear.

The frozen wind nips at Spyglass’ coat. On the very edge of the city, it’s protective dome weakened by the death of Sombra. The inside remains warm and welcoming, but even standing away from the edge he can feel the bite of the outside world.

In front of him lies the gate to the city, a decorative arch placed to welcome new visitors; useless now that the entire area is locked down. Stepping forwards he prepares himself for the arduous journey home, he isn’t safe here anymore.

“Wait!” a voice shouts, stopping him in his tracks. The scuffling of hooves on the dirt roads draws his attention to a familiar crystal mare. “Now, wait a second you bastard! Don’t you dare run away from here!”

Of course, there is one last loose end for him to wrap up. “Hello.”

“Don’t you hello me! Where the hell are you going?” she shouts giving him a furious glare.

“Home; or at least as far away from here as I can get.”

“And what about our deal? You promised me that-”

“Lily promised you, not me. And she isn’t in much of a position to do anything right now,” Spyglass responds coldly.

Warm Welcome scowls and steps up to the arrogant pegasus, poking him in the chest as she speaks. “We made a deal and I fulfilled my side, I give you information on the palace and its layout, and you let my brother go.”

Spyglass chews his lip, “Listen, even if I did know where Lily kept him I don’t have time to hang around and help you find him.”

“Make time, because I’m not going to rest until you show me where he is. Do you know how much trouble I would have gotten in if somebody caught me? Those passages made your little campaign, and nobody else knows about them!”

Spyglass scolds himself for thinking he could get away; it seems he has no choice in the matter. “He’s probably going to be where we last set up our base. I’m still not sure. Lily never liked to show where she kept them because she was afraid of ponies running their mouths about it to the mages.”

“Show me.”

Spyglass looks back to the shield, freedom is so close! With a sigh he turns towards the east and begins to trot to the mine entrance, Warm tagging along behind.

“Thank you,” Warm smiles. “I could always tell that you weren’t like the rest of them.”

Spyglass grimaces internally, an old lie leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. Was he really?

No Happy Endings

The watching crowds have grown silent now, the reality of the situation finally kicking in. This is the one situation that Sombra cannot help you out of. He’s locked outside, while you’re stuck in here with a possessed Frost and an extremely pissed Fury. There’s no way he can still stand like that! You grit your teeth in pain, various parts of your body shouting in protest as you stand once again.

“There’s still some fight left in you is there? I’ll need to take care of that.”

He kicks you hard in the ribs. It’s clear to you now that something isn’t right, the bone shifting under your perspiration covered skin. You collapse again making the feeling even worse. You gag slightly as the acidic taste of vomit pushes against the threshold of your mouth. You can’t fight like this. Fury takes the time to taunt the crowd again, walking the circumference of the dome and laughing at those outside it.

Swallowing down the bile you take a steady breath and stand up again. Frost stands motionless next to you; he must be controlled by Fury directly and while he’s distracted he can’t move him. Your horn ignites as you cast a boiling blood spell on him, you’d rather not have to kill him, but you don’t have any other choices. Frost remains still, not attempting to retaliate or escape.

It’s not working.

You mutter a curse under your breath and lower yourself to the ground. Whatever Fury did to him, he clearly isn’t alive otherwise your spell would have roasted him alive. You need to pull out a trump card if you want to beat Fury.

Fury is done gloating and returns to your side. His horn glows and you notice a series of thin red lines rising from Frost’s limbs like he’s a puppet. His aura washes over you and the same red lines wrap around your ankles, pulling you up. You gasp in pain as your broken body is agitated by the sudden movement.

“What to do, what to do? Should I make you my next slave? Or should I just finish you off?”

He seems to seriously ponder the question for a while, giving you the opportunity to take stock of your body. Several small cuts from the broken glass runs down your left side, and it looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood because of it. Your midsection is heavily bruised, presumably from the broken rib that you’re suffering from. That damn crystal is stuck in your leg but thankfully it hasn’t done major damage to your nerves.

Something that you didn’t notice before is that a small amount of blood is coming from your behind. Either you got cut back there, or the fall broke your hymen (which you didn’t know you had.) You’re in bad shape. But Fury looks much worse, he’s absolutely drenched in his own blood and several crystals are still sticking out from different parts of his body.

“While you’re still standing, I’ll give you some advice. Don’t even bother trying to use that boiling spell on me, you amateur. Do you even know basic protection spells? I wouldn’t be surprised if Sombra had forgone telling you about them, can’t have his personal whore getting uppity can he?”

Your body temperature rises dramatically as Fury laughs in your face. “Oh, this is too precious! Look at you, squirming under your own fur! The very idea of you beating me is laughable at best.

“Another tip, your own blood is the most powerful. Some idiots like to go overboard and kill themselves, so most blood mages would use the blood of their enemies instead.” His impromptu magic lesson continues as Sombra fires blasts at the shield, attempting to break it. Some of the blood flowing down his body floats away in a thin stream and wraps around your neck like a noose.

“A spark of my horn, and I can cut your head clean off.”

You have an idea. You begin to search your body for the blood you’ve lost, but Fury notices your effort. A flash fills your vision, and when you come to, the blood has been cleaned away, “Cleaning spell, useful for getting things out of my sheets and trapping uppity blood mages.”

Fuck.

It looks like using your own blood isn’t going to be an option… unless. You light up your horn again while Fury laughs at you. You can feel it, down there; it seems his little spell doesn’t clean your insides too. He didn’t notice when your hymen broke. Don’t give it away just yet; you need to get him into position first.

“And now that I have all the cards, I suppose it won’t do any harm to fill you in on a few things…”

Ever so slowly you begin to channel the blood out from you with the levitation spell. It’s so thin that he can’t see it, but you can feel it with your magic. You need to distract him enough for him to drop the spell around your neck, and the bets kind of distraction is a painful one. So many options are presented, but only one has the cruel irony that you’re looking for.

“…simple task of poisoning you…

You wrap them in your blood, thickening the band as more arrives. Your death dealing halo hovers just above the skin, so much so that he can’t feel it. Fury is blathering about something, a villainous monologue perhaps? Sombra is watching him with hardened eyes; it looks like his fear was misplaced. His eyes flicker down to your lower body, did he notice?

“…and from there, I received support from a good friend…”

How long has he been talking? Did he even notice what you’re doing, or that you’re not listening? It’s good for you. He’s given you all the time you need to prepare your assault. You never thought you’d be thankful for his habit of not shutting up.

You decide to cut his speech short, and constrict the band of blood at such an extreme pressure that two very precious balls of flesh fall to the floor with a wet plop.

Fury’s voice ascends several octaves as his speech trails off into a whimper of pain. In quick succession you pull another crystal from his body and fling it at Frost’s neck like a bullet, piercing it. It cuts straight through his spinal cord causing him to flop to the floor uselessly. You feel kind of bad about that, but that death must have been a mercy compared to what Fury was doing to him.

Fury is sobbing on his hooves, tears of pain and agony running down his bloody face. “Y-You…”

“You talk too much,” you hiss. Your horn ignites again, “All the fancy magic in the world isn’t going to save you now.”

“P-please, have mercy!” he begs as he falls to his behind and tries to back away.

The crowd watches in anticipated silence. You look around to see the faces of mages and guards, some smiling, other wincing, all of them expecting a certain conclusion. You look to the bleeding body to the side of you, the stallion that had saved your life multiple times in the past few days. You look into Fury’s haggard eyes and step forward with a limp.

“No.”

Your mind briefly ponders how you’re going to finish him off. Let’s be realistic, you only really know one spell that fits the criteria. Your horn glows brighter as Fury suddenly looks very uncomfortable, his eyes widen in fear and he tries everything in his power to stop your spell before he boils. He comes crawling back, his body wracked with spasms as his internal muscles and organs slowly begin to die from the change in internal temperature.

He wraps his fore hooves around yours and continues to beg, blood begins to spill from his mouth and making his pleas incomprehensible. The onlookers watch in morbid curiosity as he compulses for a few more minutes. Eventually you know something has popped, as his eyes gloss over and his struggle stops. The shield drops and the soldiers hesitate entering the area it used to cover.

Wordlessly you approach Sombra, who looks sad about something, “Happy now?”

“No, what makes you think I’m happy about any of this?” he asks looking over the bloodshed. He looks down to your still wounded leg and grimaces. A pony walking past takes notice.

“Would you like me to take her to the medic my lord?”

“Of course, I’ll be up there in a moment.”

With a nod the fussy pony pulls you away and brings over a stretcher. You crawl on and collapse flat onto your back, the adrenaline of the day wearing off. Before you know it you’ve slipped off into a deep slumber.

Spyglass hated the mines.

On the surface it appears as something very understandable and transparent, who would like living in a dark, wet cave for several months, never sure of whether you’ll wake up in the morning. For him though, it’s something much deeper and personal. He much prefers the feeling of the midday sun beating down on his back, and the cool winds of winter worming under his fur.

“Did you really live down here?” Warm Welcome asks, “I can’t believe that.”

Spyglass decides to not dignify the question with an answer. “Just… be quiet, I’m trying to focus.”

The green pegasus stops for a moment, thinking through the steps he’s taken so far. “We should be close now, I think it’s just down here,” he concludes. “Don’t be disappointed if he isn’t here, Lily might have cleared the place out when we left for the fighting.”

“I won’t be disappointed, I’ll be angry.”

The tunnel opens up revealing a larger cavern; scattered pieces of furniture and paper cover the floor. Everybody had clearly left in a rush and it was messier than Spyglass remembered it, had somebody been down here already? The long table that Lily used to co-ordinate the group remains upright in the centre.

“Well, we’ll have to look around the place if we want to find anything,” Warm chirps optimistically before taking off down one of the stone corridors. Spyglass sighs, alone again. It’s strange coming back to the caves that has been his home for the past year or so, empty of both possessions and the ponies that used to inhabit it. He knows that none of them will be coming back.

Confirming that Warm has indeed moved, he begins to rife through the papers that cover the table looking for something specific. Battle plans, negotiation letters and the occasional hand written note with some kind of joke on it, but not the piece of documentation he’s looking for. Moving quickly he follows Warm’s path, but takes a sharp left and heads to the officer’s rooms.

A lot cleaner and well-kept than the soldier’s quarters, that’s for sure. The average stallion fighting for the rebellion had to sleep in cramp conditions and use communal necessities, while the officers had nice, cushy velvet beds and their own personal bath. The room itself still left a lot to be desired, with the same drab stone walls and floor. No matter how they dressed it up, it always was a dump.

Coming up to one of the doors he braces against the ground and kicks the flimsy wood in, allowing him to push the smashed lock open. Not much for security, normally there was pair of guards on the door at all times to stop ponies from sneaking a peek at her classified documents.

A messy desk is the only defining feature of Lily’s room. The surface is well worn from long weeks of use; Lily always had a thing for penmanship and would take every opportunity to practice. It was an important skill when drawing up treaties and negotiations. Most of the letters on the desk are simple drafts, drafts that will now never be completed.

Shaking his head, Spyglass moves down onto the small drawers underneath the writing area. Not having the benefit of proper locks or keys, the drawers are easily opened and searched. Goods tables, supply line maps, rosters.

Mortality listings.

Spyglass’ hoof hovers over the wrinkled paper. Carefully he pulls it out from its brethren and holds it up to a fading candle, still burning from the morning. Many names, members of Sombra’s guard who had paid the price in the battle against the rebellion. Spyglass remembers taking this list from one of the couriers and handing it to Lily.

At the time she had called it a brilliant idea and praised him for his independence. He knew the truth; she thought it was a disgusting, awful thing to do. He could see it in her eyes, an unbidden disdain for the green pegasus whenever she passed him by. She accepted his idea anyway and soon put it to use.

His eyes scan down further, reading over the names. Stallions that wouldn’t be going home to their loved ones or friends, life unfairly ripped from their hooves by the whim of a single pony. Well, not really that much of a pony, but close enough.

“Welcome, Wheeler, KIA.”

A green spark from his horn and the paper catches alight; the green fire spreading across the surface of the paper like a wildfire, obscuring the truth from those who would seek it. A profound sadness panged inside of Spyglass’ chest. He tosses the paper away onto the cold floor and leaves the office making sure that not a soul was around to witness him.

He heads out, back into the main hall where a sullen looking Warm awaits him. He knows that she’ll never find him. “I found some cells, but nobody was in them,” she informed him, a fact he already knew. It was rare for them to take prisoners, another mouth to feed; and why would they with the plan that Spyglass had produced?

“I’m sorry Warm, but I can’t help you. This is the only place that I know of where they could be keeping him,” he lies.

Warm nods in defeat, fresh tears welling up in her eyes, “I’ll find him, one day.”

Spyglass places a hoof on her shoulder, a pointless representation of some vague emotion. “I need to go now, this place isn’t safe for me anymore,” a partial truth, at least. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

No more words are exchanged between the two as they leave the same way they came. The hope that Warm had felt when he agreed to come with her has died in her chest, leaving a lead weight behind. If her brother isn’t there, where could he be?

They come out into the blinding sun, a fresh wind rolling across the grassy plains. Warm, still out of it, simply walks away back towards the centre of the city where a commotion seems to be going on over something. Spyglass knows well enough to not get involved. No goodbyes are exchanged as Spyglass turns the opposite direction and heads back to the gate.

What was once a symbol of hope for those living in the north, now just a grim reminder of things not fulfilled. The Crystal Empire used to shine like the stars in the night sky, but not anymore. The shield that lies just a few meters ahead of it, protecting those inside from the harsh cold, but also stopping them from leaving. Now, in a momentary lapse of Sombra’s power he has the opportunity to escape.

He braces himself, the snow crunches underhoof as the shield passes through him harmlessly. He lets out a sigh of relief and tries to get his bearings, to the north lays the old train station and a long, long walk along its poorly maintained steel. Eventually it passes away into the desert, and from there it’s just a short walk back home.

As the green fire burns away Spyglass’ coat, revealing a sickly black carapace, his mind wonders if it is truly worth the effort to return there; to a horde of mindless brethren, and an equally brain-dead Queen. Emotions were never his strong suit; the queen discouraged those from choosing their own path in life. “We must stick together,” she would demand, “for the good of the hive.”

The plan, cause the sun princess a problem in her attempts to liberate the empire. By manipulating the rebel forces, assisting them and then using them; or by betraying them and assisting the inevitable successor to the King they could levy considerable control over a well desired territory.

He spits green ichor into the snow and scowls. What good would causing so much trouble in a foreign place do for the hive? Easing her bruised pride, petty revenge on the Sun Princess and her followers? They have no place here in the north, and they never will. His mind makes him aware of the pain he’s caused; does he really have to leave with so many loose ends? What about the kindly mare who will never find her brother?

His eyes blank over as he thinks on the issue, ignoring the biting chill of the crisp air. Storm clouds brew over the snow covered plains. It looks like it will snow soon. He steps forward, not wishing to be caught in the blizzard. The train station is in sight. Onto the platform he goes, a small part of him wishing for a train to take him anywhere but the damned hive and his blind queen.

No trains come to this place anymore.

The wooden beams of the tracks pass by in a daze. He’s distracting himself again. The mare with tears in her eyes, he could have easily revealed the truth to her, shown her the list. The pain would be there, but it would heal in time. Why should he punish her by allowing her to hope so badly for something that will never come true? He looks down to his hole covered hoof, covering it with green, unbloodied fur once more.

Sometimes, it’s better to live in blissful ignorance.

You’re sick of this damn infirmary, the itchy beds, the colourless décor, the shit food. It’s like staying in a one star motel where the staff doesn’t leave you alone. According to the doctor you’ve had some kind of magical surgery to fix up your busted leg. You’ll be in the hospital for a few more days, and a cast for some weeks after.

That’s not even getting into your other injuries. When you came to, Sombra was waiting. There’s still something on his mind, you can tell, but he won’t dare speak it in front of you. That was fine; you needed time to think on everything you’ve done recently. Sombra respected your wishes to an extent, but the safety of the Empire always came first.

“Do you know who he was talking to? It seems to me that Fury was being manipulated by somepony else.”

“I heard some of their conversation, but I don’t know who it was. Either way this mystery leader said something about supporting the rebels too. I think that she was responsible for this… mess.”

“Playing both sides and backing the winner, a classic strategy. It provides plausible deniability and allows them to pick the winning option. Whoever this was has some experience in subversion and politics.”

“Who do you think it is?”

“Princess Celestia, it’s one of her favourites. She gets to keep her illusion of being a kind, peaceful ruler while her special forces lay ruin to a foreign nation.”

“There was an Equestrian spy among them,” you tell him, “but I still don’t think that Celestia is behind it. That would be the obvious answer.”

“The obvious answer is often the correct one.”

He decides to move away from global politics, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The average pony would break like a twig at the idea of killing in such a horrific manner. Don’t tell me that you feel completely fine after such a stressful experience?” he asks with genuine concern in his tone.

“I’m not an average pony, Sombra, I come from a place where death is common and acts of horrific violence are a statistic. I did what I had to do to survive, and if that meant killing Fury then so be it. He threatened to rape and kill me, I wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen.”

“That isn’t what I…” he trails off shaking his head slightly. “Never mind, I’m glad you’re okay.”

You smile, “Me too.”

He laughs and nods, the previous conversation all but forgotten.

Author's Note

whaaaaaat man thats crazy

pls no bully

Anyway, dumb twist aside, this is the penultimate section of the story. The next few chapters will be just wrapping up things, some closure on the conflict etc. Also, be cool and try to keep spoilers out of the comments for the benefit of those who haven't read the chapter.

Embers

A yelp escapes your throat as the comb tugs against another ball of red hair.

Taking a breather, you look at your handiwork so far. While it’s not quite at the same level as Sombra’s personal groomers, you have managed to make yourself look somewhat presentable for tonight’s pleasantries. It has been a frustrating process; especially when you don’t really like looking all girly. Sombra was insistent on keeping up appearances, maybe he just liked a pretty face.

You look to the box placed on the ground next to your dresser. Its bright red, matching your mane and eyes, with a smooth black bow tied around it. Using your magic you tug the ribbon away and lift the lid to reveal a well-designed, red cocktail dress. Another frustrated sigh escapes you. You surround it with your aura and lift it into the light. Stunning, but does it really fit you?

If it were for anybody else you wouldn’t bother, but you know how much this first evening means to Warm. As a friend it’s your duty to go and give her emotional support.

Hair first, dress later. It’s still messy despite your obsessive combing, with some wayward strands escaping from the orderly waves that did stay in place. You need to do something different. A black band lies on your dresser, as of yet completely unused. A burst of inspiration strikes you as you bunch up the scruffy area into a messy little bun that lies at the back of your head. You pull down two sides to frame your face. Elegant, but wild at the same time.

Happy with your new hairdo you move over to the sofa where you laid the dress. You take extra care not to crease the thing as you slip it on which is an easy task when it’s designed with handless wearers in mind. You trot to the full body mirror and nod in approval. You have to admit that you look pretty good.

A knocking on the door alerts you to the time. You’re cutting it close and you can’t miss the grand opening. Taking one more look over and straightening everything out you feel a swell on confidence in your chest. You walk over to the door and open it, giving a greeting to the servant behind it. He smiles and tells you that Sombra awaits downstairs.

You thank the stallion and head out. You have to ignore the stares of those manning the doors of the palace, it makes you feel self-conscious and not in a good way. After a short trip you’re back to the stairwells of the opulent lobby, down below Sombra fidgets in an oddly modest suit and bow tie. Perfect ammunition to tease him with later, you think to yourself.

You descend the stairs, the clack of your hooves against the floor bringing his eyes up to you. He seems nearly taken aback by your presence. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous about this?” you ask stopping at his side.

“I am a King, as always I am composed and calm.”

“You look like a nerdy teenager going to prom,” you scoff.

“You were the one who insisted on making this an event,” his eyes roam up and down your body before sticking on your face, “No makeup?”

“I have the dress and hair, don’t push your luck.” He laughs and begins walking to the door. Initially you struggle to keep pace with him but you eventually manage to settle into a rhythm as you walk down the dark streets of the Empire.

“I didn’t mean any offense, you look lovely,” he assures you.

You feign shock, “A compliment? Where’s the real Sombra?”

“I hope you aren’t going to be like this all night,” he grumbles, shaking his head.

You nudge his side playfully, “I’m just kidding Sombra; and you need to lighten up once in a while. We’re going for a nice night out, for a dear friend, after all.”

“Beating around the bush, Rose? This is more like a date than anything else.” You shake your head and titter at him.

“It’s only a date if I want it to be. You were the one who insisted that we get dressed up.”

“It was actually War-“

“Oh look, we’re here,” you say, intentionally cutting him off with a glare. He gives a bemused smile and looks away awkwardly.

In front of you is a familiar looking tavern, the very same that you had used just a few weeks ago to hide from Fury, and apparently the bar that Warm and her missing brother used to run. It’s funny how things work out sometimes.

The place looks much nicer now, with freshly installed glass windows and cleaned crystal shimmering under the lamps lining the street. It’s amazing what a little elbow grease can do to make a tavern look inhabitable again. A large crowd has gathered outside for the grand re-opening, mostly brought by the promise of the King personally overseeing the celebrations.

Warm had received help from the crown for her contribution to the war effort. That was the official story at least, in reality you used your sway with Sombra to give her some monetary help and after tonight, a reputation fit for royalty too. You had come down a few times to look at the progress the work ponies had made. It seems you put a bit of fear into them too as when you were nearby they began working that much harder.

They’re all well dressed in their own suits and dresses. You breathe a small sigh of relief knowing that you aren’t going to be overdressed for the night. (Though it does beg the question, when attending an event with the King, how dressed is overdressed?) All eyes turn to the both of you and the muttering begins.

You can catch a few words among the bustle, a lot of them complimenting Sombra and you for your appearance. “What a good couple, they look nice together,” one uninformed mare says to her partner. You shudder to think.

The door is held open by a guard who you nod to as you pass. Tonight is going to be different than usual, Warm has put together a little guest list for her first shift. Partly to make sure that she isn’t overwhelmed by a flood of customers, but also to make the place seem a little more high class than it really is.

You’re greeted by a beaming waiter stood behind a little podium. The bar floor is fairly busy, with waiters going to and fro to deliver orders to stuffy looking nobles. Warm decided to turn this place into more of a restaurant than a traditional tavern filled with rowdy drunks. The bar has remained in place, but next to it is a new counter with a window into a brand new kitchen.

The walls have been painted a warm red colour, and new carpeted floors complete the rustic look with intricate patterns and images of historic events. The atmosphere is a far cry from the cold, abandoned dust bin you visited back when Sombra was still dead.

He ushers you both to one of the booths lining the left wall. A little card on the round table tells you that the table has been reserved for the night for the King. You slide into the booth and sit near the back while Sombra sits on your right. “Nice place isn’t it?” you say, wanting to strike up some conversation.

“Indeed, it’s a nice break from that dining room for certain.”

The awkwardness only gets worse from there as you both sit in silence while the chattering of the other patrons goes on around you. It’s like you’re on a real date, complete with the averted eyes, nervous glances and the snubbed conversation. You jump as two menus are placed on the table by a waiter, who nods to you and pulls out a small notepad and quill.

“What would like to drink, my lord?” he asks Sombra. He picks up the menu and peruses the options, humming to himself as he tries to decide.

“I should try something new, give me a hard cider,” he concludes handing the menu back.

“And your date?”

“I’ll have the same,” you say rolling your eyes at the mention of it being a date. He nods, bows, and then backs off to the bar where he places the order. Sombra makes eye contact.

“You didn’t correct him,” he points out.

“What’s the point? It’s going to be the big news tomorrow anyway,” you mutter, playing with a beer mat. True to your word you can see a paparazzi looking through the window and furiously scribbling down notes. No doubt they’ll be publishing that in some kind of gossip rag. Do they have those here?

Two frothy wooden mugs are placed onto the table, the waiter pulls out another pad. “Are you ready to order? We also have a special platter for our grand opening with a range of our available menu on it, if you’d prefer.”

Sombra notices that you aren’t paying attention and orders the platter, specifying that he hopes it’ll be substantial enough as a full meal. The waiter assures him that it will be enough for two ponies and heads back to the counter where he stabs the paper onto a little metal hook and rings the bell. A tray is passed to him as he heads out of sight to another area of the building.

“You’re scared to admit it aren’t you? What is there to be afraid of?” the King asks, shifting in his seat.

“I’m not afraid of anythi-“

“Here you are dressed and prepped and sat with a stallion in a nice restaurant. So why are you keeping up this illusion that you don’t want to do this?”

Ouch.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why,” you hiss, leaving it at that. Mood thoroughly soured, you don’t say another word until the food arrives. Sombra seems to notice how bad he fucked up and keeps his mouth zipped.

The platter is covered with a wide variety of food, some hot, some cold, a bit of savoury and sweet. Just about anything you could want. The waiter lays out two plates and two sets of cutlery. “The chef’s compliments,” he says as he returns to the counter. You pick out a bit of everything, wanting to see what’s on offer.

Sombra focuses mainly on the warm stuff. You aren’t sure what a lot of it actually is, but that isn’t going to stop you from trying it. You scoop up some of what appears to be mashed potato and blow on it to cool it down, before slipping it into your mouth. It’s a distinct taste, familiar but with a spicy aftertaste that tickles your mouth. You take a sip of the cider to wash it down.

Sombra plays with his food for a little bit, poking some greens around his plate like a scolded child who isn’t allowed to have desert. You don’t understand what’s got him to act like this, when before he was more than happy to speak ill of you. You decide to break the silence.

“Why the long face?”

He looks up and sighs before bringing a piece of lettuce to his mouth and shoving it in. He chews for a moment while never breaking eye contact, before swallowing it whole. “What do you mean?”

“You look like you’re beating yourself up over something, that isn’t like you.”

“I regret plenty of things, I just don’t show it.”

“It’s the small things isn’t it; you think you pissed me off.”

He nods and swallows another forks worth of food. He dabs his lips with a serviette and clears his throat. Noticing his cider he lifts it to his mouth via magic and takes a deep drink of the amber beverage. He slams it back down on the table.

“You’re angry with me,” he says, a statement, not a question.

“A little bit, I’ve always been mad at you. I’m just used to it by now.”

“I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“Then stop saying things that piss me off, that would help. Why can’t we stay in each other’s company for more than five seconds without you bringing something up and making it all weird?”

Sombra stares for a moment. His eyes shy away back to the table and he eats another forkful to distract himself.

“Hello!” a chipper voice greets; Warm trots towards your table, dressed in a white chef’s outfit and red scarf. “It’s good to see you guys again.”

“Hello Warm,” you and Sombra reply simultaneously.

“You’re looking good Rose, that dress really goes with your eyes.” You blush and thank her for the compliment, before asking if she’d like to sit down. “Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment for this rush of customers. Just wanted to see how my esteemed guests are doing.”

“It’s very good Warm,” Sombra says dabbing his muzzle with another napkin. “It’s a nice change from the palace kitchen.” Warm glows at the praise.

“How have you been doing anyway, we haven’t seen each other in a while,” you ask. You had to stop coming down for a week while the renovations were complete. Warm wanted to keep the grand opening a surprise for you.

“Good, good. A little stressful right now, but we’ll get into a groove eventually. It’s pretty busy tonight because of you two. Good for publicity though,” she shrugs.

“The ponies here might be looking for something that reminds them of the old days before the fighting started. I’m sure everybody’s very eager to get back to normal.”

“Indeed, the next food harvest is almost ready, so I can end the rationing soon. The reconstruction efforts are also going along nicely, I expect them to be done in a few months,” Sombra elaborates.

“Well I’d better get back to the kitchen before somebody burns the place down, feel free to come in here anytime you two,” with a wave she walks back through the swinging doors. A hasty exit, did Sombra say something that she didn’t like? He seems to be just as confused.

Filing that weirdness away for the moment you go back to chowing down on the wide variety placed in front of you. Thankfully Sombra seems to be letting you cool down before he starts opening his big mouth again. It gives you the time and space to have your fill; you flop back against the cushioned seat and let out a breath. That was some good stuff. You might have even eaten a little too much.

“No room for desert then?” Sombra teases in his monotone voice.

“I’ll live without it,” you say picking at your teeth.

Sombra finishes soon after. “Very good, we should come here again.” He flags down one of the waiters, who rushes over to serve the monarch. “We would like the bill please,” he smiles. The waiter nods nervously and heads to the counter where he speaks with the pony manning the till.

He comes back empty hooved, “Miss Warm has said that tonight’s serving would be free for the both of you,” he stammers. Sombra’s lips thin out as he reaches into his coat pocket and brings out a rather large bag of bits, placing it on the table.

“Well, you could say that this is a charitable donation for the good service,” without giving him chance to argue he stands and walks out forcing you to hurriedly thank the waiter and leave. He stops a few meters away from the restaurant and waits for you. “You can never win can you? You try to give them money for their work and they don’t want to take it.”

“How much did you give them?”

“I left one thousand bits, as a gift and tip for the workers. I want to encourage this kind of business.”

“Everybody will think that you’ll give them money now, not the best way to run a shop,” you chide him. “So, you don’t have anything else planned for the night.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’d like to stay in my company.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you groan. “You’re going to be in the doghouse for a long time.”

“And once I’m out?” Sombra smirks.

“I’ll consider it.”

It’s a nice night, oddly humid considering that the empire is located in the frozen north. Many of the ponies have left the streets but a few remain, talking in little groups and trading goods between one another. Some of them bow to the King, but he pays them no mind. The palace leg soon comes into view. Despite the awkward start you enjoyed the evening out. You hope that Sombra stays true to what he said and goes to Warm’s place more often.

He opens the door with his magic and waits by it, closing it behind you as you pass by. “Well I suppose that’s it for the evening, not unless you have anything else in mind,” he declares stretching in place. He lets out a yawn and shakes his head. You nod and begin the trek back to the bedrooms, up the stairs, down various corridors and finally round the corner to the long, door filled hallway.

Sombra stands there silently like he’s waiting for a kiss. You chuckle and open the door, only to be stopped when he puts a hoof on the frame and tails you in. He stands by the door and watches as you lift the dress from your body and release your hair from the black band, returning it to it’s now even more scruffy state.

You sigh and sit down on the sofa, kicking your hooves up and melting into the silk pillows. “So, do you have something to say?”

Sombra nods humbly and steps into the room. “I would just like to thank you, not only for the night out, but for also saving my life and the lives of everypony within this city. I have to admit that when I first brought you here I wasn’t expecting much, a mild curiosity to experiment with using cross dimensional magic.

“But I would be a fool to say that you haven’t found your way, so to speak. You proved yourself to be increasingly capable up to the point where you brought a stallion that you hold deep contempt for back from the dead. That isn’t something many ponies would be willing to do. So once again, thank you for being here.”

Having said his piece he backs away and begins to close the door again. You call for him to stop, wanting to say something before he leaves. “It wasn’t a problem.”

Sombra stays for a moment expecting more, but when he realizes that it was all you had to say he quickly makes himself scarce. The door clicks shut, leaving you in a darkening room illuminated by the orange lamps placed around the room. You lie down on your back and cover your heavy eyes with an arm, not wanting to make the effort of walking to the much more comfortable bed. Still the couch will make do for a night.

The fireplace in front of you glows slightly, the dying embers of a fire once lit fading away into nothing.

Author's Note

The end.

Nope, I'm serious, that's it, you can all go home now.

But for real, I'd like to thank all of you for reading this disaster from start to finish. I've made plenty of mistakes throughout, and there will probably be a few in this chapter too. Despite this, I think this is my best work. Not only is it the longest, but the most complex as a result. I hope everybody else liked it as much as I did when writing it.

Let's talk about the story itself. I might have noted this before, but the original intent for this story was a generic TF smut fic where a second person character becomes Sombra's consort. You can see this early on with the out of place masturbation scene. But as I developed the idea, I realized that I could do something much more interesting with the scenario I had created.

Here are some other changes:
An extremely early concept for this story involved Sombra coming to Earth and teaching at a university, where he would meet a talented student doctor who he would take to work for him, teaching him blood magic and gradually turning him into a pony. This is where the "Blood Rose" name came from. I scrapped this idea because it was dumb and shit.

I later changed it completely, making it much more generic early on. I scrapped the human element almost completely beyond the first few chapters. Not only does Rose act as a self insert vehicle (a remanent from the smut fic days) but also as a complete newcomer to the world and conflicts making her the perfect protagonist.

Aside from that many plot points were set in stone early on. You may have noticed a healthy dose of foreshadowing in nearly every early chapter. The book on changelings, the sets of armor in the mages room, Rose suddenly being hungry despite eating the food that Silver delivered, the fact that no other character knows who Silver Shield is or interact with him at any point.

Also: Why didn't Rose get with Sombra at the end?
Because I feel like it would cheapen Sombra's development. Despite all the progress he has made to getting in the good graces of Rose, they both still have a lot of things to work out between the two of them. I didn't want the end to be Rose gets the stallion and saves the day, but I still wanted to leave it open to interpretation. As you can tell from the chapter, it's still very much possible.

Here are some special thanks:
Fourpony for consistently pointing out my errors in the comments. (Not even being sarcastic, thank you for the corrections.)

Tulip for his cool ass sketch.

Everybody commenting on the story, your feedback and reactions are part of the joy of writing and I always like hearing what you have to say.

The guys from /ptfg/ reading here and in the thread.

And for everybody else, thank you for reading.

I'm not done, because as we all know the ride never truly ends. I'll be moving onto new ventures soon, including a complete reinvention of my first (admittedly terrible) effort, Adjustment, and other one shots. If you're interested in people being changed into colorful ponies/other fauna from Equestria be sure to follow me, as transformation is totally my thing.