A King's Duty

by Flint-Lock

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Original Character, King Sombra, Slice of Life
Length: 2986

Was Sombra just a power-hungry maniac, or was there more to him than that?

History remembers Sombra as a brutal, power-hungry tyrant, controlled by the darkness in his heart. A force of pure evil exceeded by few.
But was he truly as harsh as the history texts make him? What if, behind all the megalomania and paranoia, there was a pony who felt that he was truly doing the right thing. Both for his people, and for his son?

Written for the Everfree NW pre con contest.

Special thanks to HiddenUnderaCouch and Tidal for their input!

Published 2014-03-02 22:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-02 22:00:06 UTC

Duty

King Sombra had a rule: never smile in public

Years of ruling the Crystal Empire had taught him that strength was more than just being able to carry a load or cast a spell. To be truly strong, a ruler needed to have a heart of steel and a face of granite. Even the tiniest of smiles would’ve made a crack in his facade.

But now, as his hooves clip-clopped on the soot-stained brick streets of Industrial District #1, the Savior of the Crystal Empire was in serious danger of breaking his most important rule.

The mid-afternoon sun sent a hot breeze through Sombra‘s coal-black mane. His guards and attendants clutched the hoofkerchiefs tied around their muzzles; the air reeked with the smells of industry; the rotten-egg stench of sulfur from the smelters, the choking smell of coal, and countless other stenches all blended together into a noxious soup.

Sombra took a deep whiff of the air. Ahhhh... To him, the horrid stench was more than just air pollution.

It was the smell of progress.

As Sombra walked, he came across a massive brick building, turned dull by years of encrusted soot. A rusting sign hung above its doors

IMPERIAL CART FACTORY #1

Sombra stopped in front on the factory gates. He remembered when that factory had first been built, all those years ago...

The worker takes his trowel and splatters mortar on the foundation, smoothing it out with a trowel.
Sombra turns to the crowd. He can feel an almost sexual energy pouring from them.

“For too long, we have been a people of slaves. The griffons forced us to be farmers; to grow fodder for their slave-cattle.”

“But no more! Today, we take a step on the path to self-sufficiency! Today, we take a step towards greatness!”

He holds up a gold-plated brick “With this brick, we shall build the foundation of our Empire’s future!”

With that, he takes the brick and presses it into the mortar, giving it a firm press with a smoky-grey hoof.

“I now formally commence the construction of our new Imperial Cart Factory!”

The crowd is ecstatic. Ponies jump around, their coats glittering in the sun like a sea of crystal. They raise their hooves to the sky

“SOMBRA! SOMBRA! SOMBRA! SOM-”

Whooooot!

The steam whistle instantly yanked Sombra out of his memory. He started.

Sombra’s attendants noticed his surprise. “Are you alright, milord?”.

“I’m fine.” Sombra said coldly. He cursed himself for letting his guard down like that; a strong ruler never let himself be caught unaware.

The doors to the factory opened with a tooth-rattling shriek, and a column of workers filed out of the factory, escorted by red-robed overseers. They air was filled with the reek of sweat and sawdust.

A gold-robed supervisor trotted out of the factory and up to the line. He pointed to a worker with a noticeable limp. “You!”

The worker stopped and pointed at himself.

“Yes, you, with the yellow coat.”

The Supervisor clopped over to the worker and bodily yanked him out of the line. .

“You have failed to fulfill your weekly quota of cart wheels.” The overseer reached into his robe and whipped out a crackling Enforcement Rod. “You must be disciplined!”

Before the worker could respond, the overseer brought the crystal rod down on the worker’s head, sending the hapless pony to the ground like an empty sack. The overseer beat him over and over, the rod sparking with every hit.

Memories of the Griffon occupation bubbled up out of Sombra’s subconscious, fueling a rage hotter than the depths of Tartarus. With a thought, he channeled the rage into his horn and hurled it at the Correction Rod as a beam of eye-smarting light, turning it to powder.

The supervisor started. “Who fired that-” His pupils shrank when he saw Sombra.

“My Lord.” The Supervisor dropped to his knees. “I am at your service.”

Sombra looked to the worker. “ Why were you beating this worker?”

“My Lord,” The supervisor said, ” Regulations state that if a worker does not meet their quota, disciplinary actions must be taken.”

Sombra growled. “Did you ever stop to learn why he missed his quota?”

The supervisor began to quiver. “No, milord.”

“I see.” Sombra knelt down beside the worker and studied the pony’s leg. He nodded.

“Look at this worker’s leg.”

The supervisor meekly obeyed.

Sombra traced a hoof over the worker’s left leg. “If you’d paid close enough attention, you would have noticed that this worker’s hind leg is clearly broken.” Venom began to drip from Sombra’s words “This worker should have been sent to the infirmary, then placed on light duty!”

“My-my- Lord….” The supervisor stammered, “We-”

“Silence, worm!“ Sombra gave the overseer a glare that could pierce iron. “Our workers are the cornerstone of the Empire, and you have failed them!”

The supervisor fell to his knees. “My Lord, please, I-”

“Enough!” Excess magic began to leak from Sombra’s eyes, his anger turning the mystic energy into flame-like vapor. His horn began to glow an unnatural green-purple.

A wet spot appeared under the supervisor’s legs. “No, please!”

“Failure will not be tolerated!” Sombra growled. With a thought, his horn flashed, shooting a spell right into the supervisor’s brain.

The unicorn fell to the ground. “GAH!” He screamed, slapping at something unseen. “Get ‘em off Get ‘em off!” The supervisor tore off his robe and began scratching himself all over. “Oh Gods, oh Gods, They’re under my coat! I can feel them under my coat!”

Sombra motioned to an overseer. “You, take him to his chambers. When he recovers, strip off his robe and put him to work in a crystal mine.”

The overseer bowed. “Yes milord.”

Sombra sighed as the screaming supervisor was dragged away. He hated having to use indentured labor like this, but necessity had demanded it. The war effort demanded it.

Still, It was little better than what the griffons had done.

Sombra shook his head. No, those workers were not slaves. They were indentured laborers working under a very reasonable contract. Once war against the Griffons was over, they would be duly compensated for their work.

But hadn’t’ the original contract been for only six months?

Sombra growled. The war raged longer than he’d predicted. It had been necessary to revise the contracts.

A mocking voice sprang up in Sombra’s head. Admit it, Sombra. You enslaved your own

people.

They are not slaves.

They’re slaves

They are not slaves

They’re slaves

“They are not slaves!” The words exploded from Sombra’s mouth like a ball from a cannon. Workers and overseers alike stopped in their tracks.

I need to stop doing that. Sombra quickly regained his composure. “Don’t you have work to do?”

The ponies quickly went about their business.

“King Sombra!”

Sombra heard the flap of wings overhead. He looked up to see a chariot emblazoned with his royal seal touch down at the factory gates.

A pony dressed in the crystal-fiber finery of the Council sprang from the chariot. He bowed. “King Sombra,” He panted. “ Your generals request your presence immediately. They have urgent news!”

Sombra growled. So much for his pleasant walk. “Very well.” He trotted over to the chariot and clambered in. “To the palace, now!” The pegasi pulling the chariot pumped their wings, and the chariot soared skyward.

Hopefully he’d hear some good news for a change.

-

WHAM!

The doors to the War Room flew open. Sombra trotted out, doing his best to keep his composure

The unicorn had long mastered the art of hiding his emotions. To any servants walking by, Sombra would’ve looked as calm and as confident as a snow-covered mountain. He had to. To do otherwise would’ve been a sign of weakness, and the Empire could not afford a weak ruler.
Inside, it was a whole different story. Sombra’s stomach felt like a cauldron about to boil over. His heart was pounding against his ribcage like a caged beast. Thoughts of doom raced through his mind.

Sombra ducked into a corner and fished a vial of blue liquid from under his robe, downing it in a single gulp. The tension ebbed somewhat, but Sombra could still feel it inside him, like an elastic band coiled one time too many

Sooner or later, this position was going to kill him.

Feeling somewhat less strained, Sombra slowly clip-clopped through a hallway full of stained glass windows, each depicting a moment from his life. He stopped in front of a depiction of him leading the final battle against Governor Windshear’s forces.

The unicorn allowed himself a small, almost invisible smile. Back then, things had been so much simpler. He’d recruit ponies to his cause, ambush griffon patrols, and sabotage Griffon projects. Good times. Glorious times.

He wished he could say the same for the present. According to the latest reports, an entire legion of his finest warriors had been encircled by the griffons and their Elk allies. His ponies were desperately trying to break out, but unless his forces could somehow break the stalemate they were caught in, it seemed unlikely.

Worse, there were unconfirmed reports that the Princesses of the Equestrian Diarchy were building up their armies and preparing for war against the Empire. Sombra would never admit it, but the prospect of going to war against the beings who literally controlled the heavens was too horrifying for words.

Sombra spat. Those Princesses, Celestia and Luna, had the power of life and death over every living thing. If they wanted to, they could draw down the power of the sun and turn their enemies to cinders or shroud their rivals in eternal darkness. Yet they never did.

Someday they’d learn that power was far too precious a thing to waste.

Clikky-Clop Clikky-Clop

A dark-furred ear perked up. Sombra whipped himself around to see a dusty grey unicorn colt running up to him.

“Poppa!” The little colt hurled himself at Sombra like a pouncing cat. The tyrant caught him in his forearms, stroking the colt’s fluffy foal-fur.

“Slate.” Sombra nuzzled his only son. “What are you doing here? You should be doing your lessons with Obsidian.”

Two of Sombra’s elite Shade Guards stumbled around the corner, their coats matted with sweat.
“Forgive us, King Sombra.” The lead guard said, stopping for a minute to catch his breath. “The Prince ran out in the middle of his lessons. We tried to stop him but he-” Another stop for breath. “He was too fast.”

Sombra looked down at his son with a glare that could shatter crystal. “Is this true, Slate?”

Slate hung his head. “Yes, it’s true. I ran away during Obsidian’s lessons.”

Sombra’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Well, I was doing my lessons when I saw that it was a really nice day. You like nice days, so I thought you might want to play ball with me.”

Sombra sighed. “Son, you know that those lessons are important. You’re going to become a leader one day, and ponies need an educated leader.”

“I know, Poppa,” Slate said. “but it’s just…it’s just that we haven’t played together in a long time, and you’re always so busy.” Slate looked Sombra in the eyes. “Please, Poppa? Just this once?”

Sombra gritted his teeth, his fangs cutting into his lips. He could never say no to Slates’ big, liquid eyes. They reminded the unicorn so much of his wife- gods and goddesses rest her soul

“Very well.” The tyrant sighed. He needed to spend some more time with Slate anyway.

“Yay!” Slate jumped for joy.

“But…” Sombra held up a hoof. “Only for today. Tomorrow, you’ll do twice as much to compensate.”

“I will, Poppa!” Slate nuzzled Sombra. The tyrant’s flinty heart turned to soft wax.

The king turned to the guards. “Return to your posts.” He barked. “After your shift ends, both of you report to the exercise yard.” A guard who could not keep up with a colt was hardly deserving of the position.

The guards pressed a foreleg to their chests. “Our hearts to the Empire!”

Sombra returned the salute. As the guards scampered off, Sombra put a hoof on his son’s shoulder. “Before we play ball, there’s something I need to say.”

“What’s that?”

Sombra tapped the end of Slate’s muzzle with a forehoof. He grinned impishly “You’re it!”

Slate leaped at Sombra, forearms outstretched. Sombra quickly slid out of the way and galloped down the hall. Servants and nobles dove out of the way.

“Race you to the Royal Garden!”

-

Fwap!

A bolt of magical energy hit the ball dead center. Magic splashed against the ball’s magically-reflective skin, slapping it back in the direction that it came from.

Sombra dove onto the ground, barely catching the ball.“Nice shot, Slate” Sombra picked up the magically-reflective sphere with his hooves. “You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, Poppa!” The little colt said, his horn spitting sparks of excess magic.

Sombra wiped sweat from his brow. A pang of regret rippled through his body. How long had it been since he’d last played with Slate in the Royal Garden? Days, weeks, months? Whatever it had been, it was far too long.

“Alright son,” Sombra picked up the ball with his telekinesis. “Lets see if you can hit this one.” With that, Sombra hurled the ball skyward.

“I’ve got it!” Slate splayed his legs and gritted his teeth. His icicle-like horn flared, and another bolt of magic shot out like an arcane lightning bolt.The bolt grazed the little ball and bounced off. There was a flash of light, a forceful punch, and Sombra found himself lying flat on his back, the world spinning around him.

Wha...what? He groaned. His senses slowly came back; he realized that the bolt must have hit him.

Sombra heard hoofsteps. “Poppa?” He felt Slate’s soft muzzle against his side. “Poppa?!”

He heard the clank of armor. “My Lord, are you alright?!”

“Slate…” Sombra croaked. “Slate…”

The little colt clambered onto Sombra’s furry chest. “ Poppa...?” He said softly.

A grin spread across Sombra’s face. “Gotcha!”

With that, Sombra flipped himself over and pinned his son to the grass. His horn glowed, and the little colt began laughing hysterically.

“Hahhahhah stop it Poppa hahaha!”

The guards breathed audible sighs of relief and returned to their posts.

Suddenly Sombra felt his spell dissipate. Slates' horn glowed and a strange tingling sensation spread all over his body. “Slate what are you…?”

Before Sombra could finish, he found himself rolling on the ground, laughing hysterically. It felt as though a thousand little feathers were tickling every inch of his body.

The spell flickered and sputtered out. The tickling stopped. Sombra picked himself up, panting as though he’d just run a marathon.

“Never...should have...taught you that redirection spell.” Sombra laughed.

Slate grinned impishly.

The tyrant picked himself up. He noted that the sky had turned a dark purple. “ ‘Slate, come. We must head inside.”

“But Poppa, it isn’t that dark.” Slate waved his hoof in front of his face. “I can still see my hoof, can’t I?”

“Slate, you know the rule.”

“I know.” Slate hung his head. “I can’t stay out past nightfall or the bad ponies might get me.”

“That’s right. Now come along.” Sombra took his son’s hoof and led him back towards the castle. “Now, I want you to take a bath, then get some studying done. You’ve got a lot of work to make up tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Slate mumbled.

Sombra patted his son’s furry forehead. “Don’t worry, I will be sure to read you your bedtime story tonight.”

Slate’s spirits perked up a little. “Thanks Poppa.”

Sombra gave his son a hug. “Run along now. Poppa has some business to attend to.”

With that, Slate clip-clopped towards one of the maids, obviously not looking very forward to his bath.

Sombra smiled. That’s my boy.

Once his son was out of sight, Sombra trotted down the hallway until he reached a bare section of wall. He tapped it three times with his hoof and it vanished, replaced with a flight of stairs. Sombra climbed down the flights of steps, descending deep into the bowels of the palace, until he reached a heavy iron door guarded by a single, stone-faced guard.

“Has the prisoner said anything?”

“No milord.” The guard said. “We’ve tried every form of persuasion we know, and still he
refuses to speak.”

“Very well. I shall deal with him myself.” Sombra motioned to the guard. “Open the door.”

The guard unlocked the heavy iron door.

“So,” Sombra said as he trotted in, his voice as piercing as an arctic wind. “You refuse to talk.”

The prisoner sat on the plank “bed”, his coat marred by countless bruises and scars.

“We found the weapons in your quarters. We know that you were plotting against me.”

Sombra trotted over to the prisoner. Magic bled from his eyes like arcane flames.

“Your actions threatened the safety of the Empire and its the ponies.”

Sombra channeled some magic into his horn. He pressed the glowing appendage up to the prisoner’s face like a glowing brand.

“I can give you a chance to redeem yourself. Tell me who you are working for, and you can absolve your sins.”

The unicorn’s only reply was a glop of spittle.

Sombra glared. “So be it.”

The horn flashed...

-

“My prince, please hold still!”

Slate flailed around like a scared fish, spraying soapy water everywhere “It tickles!”

The old earth pony maid sighed. “Yes, I know it tickles, but you must hold still.” The maid grabs the soapy washcloth and rubs it behind the little colt’s ears. “You’re absolutely filthy.”

Suddenly, Slate’s ears perked up. “Hey, I think I hear something.”

The maid stopped in mid-scrub. “What do you hear?”

The colt cupped a hoof to his ear. “ I dunno, It sounds like…” He stopped for a second.
“...somepony screaming.”