No two beings can agree on the nature of Tartarus. To some, it is a forest, filled with the cold gaze of predators, yellow eyes that shine out of pitch darkness and movement only in the corner of one’s eyes. To others it is a desert, dry and wretched without the light usually afforded within a desert. There was no light in Tartarus, even to those who roamed through fields of fire. Any fire in Tartarus only burned; they did not cast light. Light meant pity. Light meant hope and mercy.
There is no room for pity, hope, or mercy in Tartarus. Tartarus is a cruel place, a prison that shapes itself to its occupants. It is forest and plain, desert and ocean, an abyssal drop with no end of movement and a stifling stillness.
To Tirek, it was a cage; a single stone crag capped with a cage of rotted iron that could snap with a breath, guarded by a beast that could be bested with a single chew toy. Tirek was hardly shackled, his arms kept in place with a frosted glass chain, his four hooves left free.
And Tirek could do nothing.
Tirek laid on the ground of his cage, panting for breath. His shackles rubbed ceaselessly at his wrists, slipping down to his hands as though he’d be able to take them off that way, but they never fell. He gasped for breath, drinking in only the stale, mildew-filled air of Tartarus. The air in Equestria was sweet and fresh, made the slightest bit bitter, and far better for it, by fear.
Yet, Tirek had screamed out the last of Equestria’s air hours ago, raging at the stone and rotted iron until his throat grew raw. Or perhaps it had been a few minutes. Perhaps it had been an eternity.
An eternity would be welcome. It had taken Tirek over a thousand years to gather his strength and break just enough of the cage bars for his shrunken form to slip through. Even then, he had not had the strength to break his shackles. It was only a stroke of luck that let him escape, when the Gates of Tartarus had opened and Cerberus had left his post for a time. Tirek had slipped out then, hiding in the shadows of a ruined castle, feeding on beasts.
The mere thought of it filled Tirek with his rage again and he would have thrashed against his chains if he’d had that ability. Tirek was not satisfied with this. He took a breath, ignoring the stabbing pain in his throat.
“Must you make that noise, Tirek?” A slightly nasally voice carried from the other end of the cage. “It can’t be good fo—”
Tirek shouted, yelling obscenities and curses loud enough to drown out his brother’s voice. He shouted for perhaps another eternity before his own voice gave out.
“Are you done now?” asked Scorpan.
Tirek said nothing, gazing at the roof of his cage.
“It won’t do you any good to ignore me.”
Silence.
The voice moved, this time sounding almost directly to Tirek’s right. “Would you just have me sit in a corner, brother?”
Tirek’s eyes flashed, boring directly into a pair of beady, black dots. Scorpan sat just a few feet away, all wiry muscles and long nails, one clawed hand absentmindedly stroking through a brown beard.
“Ah yes, the ‘No Brother’ rule.” Scorpan scratched at his beard. “I’d almost forgotten.”
Tirek turned away, staring at the top of his cage once again.
“No words for me, Tirek?”
The centaur set his jaw, his gaze hardening as he stared resolutely forward.
“No, I suppose not. But do not worry, your punishment dictates that I say as much as I can for as long as I can. I doubt that you’ve forgotten that.”
Tirek coughed, the simple exertion causing him to burn with pain.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Scorpan got to his feet, his gargoyle claws tapping against the bottom of the cage as he walked. “However, who knows how much you’ve forgotten since you achieved your… freedom, shall we call it? Would you like a refresher course?”
Tirek kept his silence. Scorpan continued.
“Well, there’s not much to say, is there? You were a master of power, the devourer of magic. Who could stand in your way, Tirek; you, whose power only grew as you fought?” Scorpan’s tone was light, mocking as his claws tapped against iron. “Who could dare to stand in your presence, Lord Tirek?”
Tirek ground his teeth in frustration as his brother stood above him. Yet, he did not give a voice to his rage.
“Not a single being, Tirek. At least, not one who valued his life.” Scorpan paused, glancing around the cage. “And now look at you. Lord Tirek, kept in a prison that a foal could pass through.”
“No,” Tirek began to say, but the word was blocked in his throat.
Scorpan darted forward, squatting by his brother’s side. “But that’s not what your prison is, is it brother?” The gargoyle ignored Tirek’s poisonous glare. “Your prison is not bars and cages, shackles and guard dogs, an isolated hilltop that any idiot could stumble off of. Your prison is your own weakness, Lord Tirek.”
“I—” Tirek’s voice was gravelly, pained even as he spoke “—I am… not weak.”
“Yes, you are, brother,” said Scorpan without pause. “And that’s why I’m here. An eternal reminder of your weakness, of your failure.”
“You... betrayed me.”
“The truly strong would not be set aside by a single action. And yet here you are.” Scorpan paused. “Oh, but what’s this? Another reminder is missing.”
Tirek felt a clawed arm lift his head up slightly, felt the weight of something slip around his neck and rest on his chest.
“My gift to you, Tirek,” whispered Scorpan. “A reminder of your weakness, yes, but also of me. A reminder that beings such as us, raised into the ruthless things that we are can learn to love.”
Tirek let out a weak protest.
“We can, brother,” insisted Scorpan, “through friendships and caring. Just as Discord was. Just as I was.” Scorpan lifted the golden necklace, holding it just before his brother’s face. “This is proof of that. Never forget it.”
Tirek stared at the medallion for a time, then raised a thin hand, the other quickly followed, dragged by the shackles that bound him. The hand came to rest on Scorpan’s shoulder.
Scorpan’s gaze was soft. “It can happen to you as well. It will require work and dedication, but you can leave this decrepit jail and return to Equestria as a friend. You can be redeemed, brother.”
Tirek met his brother’s gaze, seeing hope in the beady eyes. Hope for a future where the two could be reunited, where they were free to travel between their own lands and Equestria. Lord Tirek took a breath of the stale air of Tartarus, feeling it work against his raw throat, collecting the little strength that he had within him. His hands darted forward, wiry fingers wrapping around Scorpan’s throat and squeezing with all the power left to him.
“I,” hissed Lord Tirek, “am no friend.”
Scorpan’s eyes grew sad, though there was no trace of surprise as there once had been. Centuries of similar exchanges had robbed him of that. “That saddens me, brother.”
With that, the image of Scorpan vanished and Tirek’s hands came crashing down. Tartarus’s illusion had done its job for the time. But it would return.
Tirek lay spent on the floor of his cage, feeling worse off than when he had been first returned to his prison. Yet, it would pass. His weakness would disappear with time, he would regain his power and storm through the Gates of Tartarus and back to Equestria and everything would suffer, would be crushed under the power that is and always would be Lord Tirek.
For the time, however, Tirek could do nothing, not even rage against those that had brought him here. He stayed where he lay, his black, unflinching eyes staring upwards amid the quiet and solitude of his prison in Tartarus.
Author's Note
Do not mistake this for a Tirek sympathy fic. Tirek is not Discord and his character should never go through, nor does it allow for, reformation. Tirek is not out for fun as Discord was, he is out to rule.
However, this is also where the tragedy aspect of this story lies. Tirek will never allow himself to be changed.
As always, all comment are read, appreciated, printed out, dipped in glue, stuck together, and painted over to make a Tirek figure because Tirek is an absolute BAMF. But not in that order.
