Inmates of Erebus

by VoxAdam

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: The Movie, Slice of Life, Dark, Alternate Universe, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7273

A series of slice-of-life segments following Trixie as she makes friends in a most unusual place, the prison of Erebus.

Co-written with RoyalPsycho.

After her misuse of the Alicorn Amulet proves to have legal consequences, Trixie Lulamoon finds herself consigned to Erebus.

Tartarus' minimum-security counterpart, Erebus is no less a subterranean prison. In her time there, Trixie will have to learn the ropes if she hopes to fit in with the crowd.

These are tales of Erebus' denizens, the days they lead, and possibly, the friendships they make in this unlikeliest of places.

While associated with the Spectrumverse, reading the main story is not a requirement to enjoy this anthology.

Published 2019-05-19 21:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-05-19 21:20:01 UTC

First Segment - Kana and Qabil

Inmates of Erebus

By
VoxAdam & RoyalPsycho

First Segment - Kana and Qabil

Everything else had been packed away, all of the trinkets and tools a conjurer could wish for, even if it was second-rate equipment for a third-rate audience. As always, she had dragged her hooves, putting it off until last, but she could put it off no longer. The same as every evening at this same time, the Great and Powerful Trixie would have to divest herself of her wizard’s hat and cape, the very fibres, as it were, of her self.

And replace them with that ugly thing hanging from a hook above the chest, dangling before her snout like a taunting ragdoll. Except there was no ragdoll, only these rags, and she was the doll.

Heaving a deep sigh of utmost resignation, Trixie removed her hat first, followed by her cap. She held them in her aura’s blue glow, drifting them to the chest. Despite her listlessness, she’d sooner have died than allow either of them to fall to the floorboards. For all the consigned staff’s best efforts at cleaning up, or so they claimed, the backstage was never clear of a coarse, gritty layer of dust and grains of sand, much of it spilled in fine traces from cracks in the cavern ceiling.

As if on cue, the periodically low, dull sound of a rumble and of flowing sand snapped her back to the here and now. Suddenly distraught at the thought of any of it spoiling her attire, Trixie hastened to slam the lid shut, throwing her forehooves across it for added protection. She breathed in, lungs heaving, once, twice, but smiling with relief as the sound dimmed. Her smile rapidly faded, though, as the reality of all her other problems flooded back to her.

Starting with what she was going to wear tonight.

Grumbling, Trixie snatched the pin-striped shirt and cap off their hook. Forehooves raised, she slipped the shirt over her head. At least, for a short interval, she had the peace and quiet to go through this demeaning process...

“I see,” spoke a heavily-accented voice, snapping Trixie from her thoughts. “It would seem that your kind’s saying is true. The clothes truly do make the… mare.”

She couldn’t see who it was, not with the shirt half over her head. With a little shriek, Trixie pulled it all the way down, her forehooves clattering back to the floor as she turned to face whoever had just spoken.

“Why, you blasted ruffian!” Trixie yelled, seeing now, but not caring, that it was a Kirin. A doe, whom she knew by sight as an audience regular, yet had never learned the name of. “Do you mind!? I’ll have you know this is a private area, couldn’t you have at least knocked!?”

She slammed her cap on, hoping this might somehow look intimidating.

“When the Great and Powerful Trixie wants the world to see her in all her grandeur,” Trixie growled, or tried to, struggling to keep a quiver out of her voice, “she’ll do it at the time she damn well pleases! You’ve had your show, and if you missed it, then too bad for you, now will you just buzz off!”

The Kirin chuckled, one forehoof in front of her mouth in a dainty gesture. She seemed to be doing her best to pose in as graceful a manner as possible, a gesture that was ruined by the same drab shirt and cap that currently adorned Trixie.

“This one wasn’t expecting to see an additional show,” the Kirin said, her forehoof pointing towards the front of her barrel. “You have certainly livened this evening further, though. This one wished merely to make her gratitude more clear… and this one did knock. You didn’t answer, and when this one opened the door she found you clutching that chest.”

The Kirin tilted her head towards the chest currently holding all of Trixie’s outfit and performing equipment.

“That’s no business of yours,” Trixie hissed, edging in front of the chest. “That there is my private property, just about the only property they’ll still allow me in this dump. And I know what you’re planning, you nasty little thing. Don’t get any ideas! Without all of it, that’s the end of the show, and then what will you have to look forward to on those cold, lonely nights?”

“Oh?” the Kirin replied, her face falling in disappointment. “Are those items truly the full extent of your repertoire? This one was so hoping you would have more to it than mere mundanities. You are, after all, the last wielder of the Alicorn Amulet, or so claims the idle chatter from those dull harridans in my cell.”

Trixie felt her heart drop all the way down to the knees of her hindlegs.

“Wh-what?” Trixie said, tipping a step back towards the chest, eyeing the Kirin. The doe did not look especially threatening, but one could never be sure… “That’s preposterous,” she managed, with a nervous grin. “Where’d you get a crazy idea like that? Trixie is just a humble, hard-working, magnificient performer of the open roads. I-I’m sure I’ve never had anything to do with dark magic stuff, that’s really bad, really bad business, that is!”

“Then forgive this one for her presumptiveness,” the Kirin said with a small smile that quickly grew into a mean grin, which she failed to hide behind her forehoof, once again raised to cover her mouth. “If that is the case, however, then how exactly did a humble, hard-working, magnificent performer of the open roads end up in a place such as this?”

And Trixie could only thank her lucky stars that her job required a creative streak. Some ignorami might have called it fibbing. She called it ingenuity. She’d learned the best tactic was to mix in plenty of truth with your… embellishment.

“Oh, that,” Trixie said, thinking fast, rubbing her nape. “That, you see, that’s all the result of an unfortunate series of circumstances, it all started when Trixie went on a tour to Ponyville… Trixie must have woken on the wrong side of the sheets that day, or not had enough sugar, why, never would Trixie have had such a bad idea otherwise!”

Trixie paused to catch her breath, reading herself for the dramatic swoop.

“And so,” she continued, “there Trixie was, putting on her prime show, when some cranky ponies began to heckle her. Well, what else could Trixie do, to prove she was the greatest, if not set them an impossible challenge? I’m sure none of them would ever have dared face an Ursa Maj-” She caught herself just in time. “An Ursa Minor without prompting from dashing Trixie!”

The Kirin raised an eyebrow, pulling her head back and raising it, until she was looking down her nose at Trixie in a look of superiority and surprise.

“So. You are saying you’re here because of a bet gone wrong.”

Throwing back her mane, Trixie stuck her snout up, harrumphing.

“It isn’t my fault that a couple of the punters took it so literally,” she said haughtily. “Go and look it up. You’ll find I never actually ordered anypony to seek out and bring back an Ursa! But then everypony gets mad at you for a mess they caused, and one thing leads to another. Apparently, property damage and endangerment of lives, when no-one got hurt, are enough to land you a sentence in Erebus these days…”

“Truly an injustice,” the Kirin smirked, letting out a small sigh of false sympathy and shaking her head. “We are, indeed, all victims of such overreaction from those above our station and those ingrates below us.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Trixie smiled ingratiatingly. She wanted to wipe her forehead. Looked like she was off the hook...

“There is, however, one problem with your tale,” the Kirin said, fixing Trixie with a smirk. “Why would merely causing property damage and endangerment send you to this section of Erebus? This one has seen your cell amongst those who were imprisoned for the practise of forbidden arts, it is, after all, only one row separate from this one’s own.”

Feeling hot, Trixie sensed beads of sweat itching under the collar of her horrid shirt.

“Uh… I, uh…” Trixie mumbled desperately. Then it hit her. “Because of Twilight Sparkle!” she exclaimed, almost in triumph. “Yeah, that’s it. It’s her doing. Celestia’s student has got it in for me ever since I showed up in her town. Even though she’s the one who showed me up by banishing the Ursa. She must’ve got it in her head I was into some fishy business, and ratted to Celestia. The Princess would believe anything she’s got to say!”

“Ah, this one now understands,” the Kirin said, her expression softening a little. “So, you were disgraced by another. That is truly unfortunate. Your tale is truly entertaining, as much as, if not more so than your performances. This is a…”

“Now what is going on here?” interrupted a new, smooth voice, as a tall equine figure stepped into the room.

Trixie gaped at the slender stallion - not a pony, a horse. Although he wore the same drab prisoner’s uniform, his rich, golden colouration and lilting accent shone through, denoting an origin from Saddle Mareabia. In spite of herself, Trixie’s heart melted a tiny bit at the radiant sight of him, not to mention his trim goatee beard...

“Well, this is interesting,” the horse said with a somewhat kindly smile. “I bless my poor fortunes that I was able to catch you at this time young mare but I did not expect you to have company. Fortune and the Lady be upon you both.”

He bowed his head, the cap slipping a little before he straightened again. Blinking as he noticed his slightly dishevelled appearance the horse frowned and put the cap back in place, smiling in satisfaction once he was done recomposing himself.

“My apologies,” the horse said, giving Trixie a charming smile. “I did not wish to interrupt. I merely came to express my deepest gratitude towards you, young performer. Your shows have been the repeated highlights of the dull and sordid experience that is this confinement.”

Faced with the Kirin, Trixie’s throat had seized up and she’d felt her heart sink. Now, though, her heart was caught in her throat… and she felt tongue-tied. Normally, the prospect of being cornered by two fellow inmates would have had her screaming for the Guards.

Not so much in this shining company...

“Why, hello there,” Trixie smiled, lowering her watch of the chest to sidle forward, paying no mind any longer to the Kirin. Who, it seemed, was standing in placid silence. “Forgive me for being so forward,” she said slowly, batting her eyelashes, “but could it be you are some master of concealment? I’ve no other explanation for how I could have missed you in the crowds all this time..:”

“Oh, I don’t try to make myself known when amongst the audience,” the horse replied, raising a forehoof to the front of his barrel. “I do not know what they could do to me if they noticed my presence, and so I work hard to remain unremarkable, unseen. It is difficult, of course… so many of them have sharp eyes. I am sure that your exhaustive work kept you from paying any attention to my presence. You are, after all, such a splendid entertainer, it must take great effort.”

Celestia help her, Trixie could tell the blush was rising to her cheeks.

“Well,” Trixie began. She was using all the willpower to keep the stammer out of her voice. She was a performer, after all. This should be easier than when faced with the Kirin. Whom, frankly, she’d almost forgotten about already. “If Trixie didn’t notice you, then believe me, oh, what dreadful failure must it display of Trixie as as a performer? A performer should always looks out for their dear audience!”

She was babbling, she knew it, which didn’t help the purple tinge on her cheeks any.

“Look,” Trixie forced out, “let it not be said that the Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t cater to her public’s taste. Any less would be so inconsiderate of her!”

Activating her horn’s glow, she pulled the chest over, which may not have been a good idea, as the horrendous screech across the floorboards made him visibly wince. In a rush to fix the image she meant to show of herself, Trixie hurriedly reclined herself upon the lid, head resting in one foreleg, and both hindlegs crossed.

“This,” Trixie said, tapping the lid while contriving to speak in a low, husky voice, “is where Trixie keeps all her most precious goods. If you think you know everything Trixie has to show to you, you don’t know anything…” She smiled, trailing off in what she hoped was a sultry, lascivious tone. “Don’t you think it’s so boring, that they make us wear these same slops every day and night, in and out? Won’t you admit that the sparkling attire is half of what you brings you to observe Trixie?”

She leaned forward, batting her eyelashes.

“Who knows, dear patron, if you’re really lucky, next time, Trixie Lulamoon may have a performance involving seven veils to regale you with…”

The horse froze for a moment, a look of shock and offense taking over his face. Trixie cringed as she realised she may have, in fact, said something wrong. The stallion kept his look for some time, before suddenly wiping it off, to replace it with his usual expression of natural charm, his smile now a devilish smirk.

“Well,” he began, “I would certainly appreciate the offer of seeing a new addition to your repertoire. I am sure that, whatever you provide for my eyes; it will be as thrilling as all the other skillful performances.”

It was then that the Kirin interrupted with a cough, again hidden behind her forehoof. “This one would like to remind you that she is still present.”

And Trixie, who’d been getting her hopes back up, now felt a stab of irritation.

“You still here?” she said, shooting the Kirin an annoyed glare. “Why are you even present? And what’s with the whole stupid ‘this one’ thing anyway, who talks like that!?”

“This one does, clearly,” the Kirin replied, in a tone that would usually be reserved for a child. “It is the only proper and polite term of address for one’s self. In the court of the honoured Mikado, one must be aware of formal courtesies.”

“You are aware that your speech pattern has been unpopular for well over a century,” the horse retorted in a snippy tone, also frowning.

Trixie had to grin, seeing the handsome stallion was on her side, and clearly just as frustrated with the annoying doe.

“Silence!” the Kirin snapped. “This is how this one was raised, and thus how she is expected to address herself.”

“Oh, really,” Trixie giggled. She felt much emboldened, now the Saddle Mareabian was here. “Why, how quaint is that. Does that mean you can’t even tell us your own name? Who’d have the low self-esteem to not even want to shout their name from the rooftops, like normal people such as Trixie?”

“Maybe because this one does not need to announce herself so readily,” the Kirin shot back. “If you must know, though, this one is named Kana, of the esteemed house of Yugami, student of the Kyiroto Imperial Academy of the Mystical Arts and personal student to the court of the Mikado.”

The Kirin raised her head and, for the first time, gave an actual smile.

It was a smirk of self-confidence and self-importance that, like all her other gestures, seemed to be geared towards looking as graceful and pompous as possible.

Trixie was almost shocked. Even Canterlot gentry struggled to match such an expression of ineffable smugness. But ‘almost’ was the key word. With a loyal member of the audience by her side, even just the one, two could play at that game.

“Suuure,” she said, turning over, stomach-down, to rest her head across her forehooves, not once breaking gaze with the Kirin. “You’re saying it as if Trixie should be impressed. Like you weren’t the first ‘personal student’ she’s encountered in her life. Trixie has news for you, with your fancy titles and sweeping gestures,” Trixie very deliberately smirked, never mind that had it been her, she’d have been expecting adulation, “it all means squat, when you’re here in the clink. At least I can proudly state I’m in because of a personal student,” and there she grinned, showing teeth. “So what’s your excuse, lady?”

Kana was stunned, her smugness gone and replaced by the slack-jawed look of someone who’s just been slapped in the face.

“This one was unjustly sent to this fate,” Kana insisted, a grimace now on her face as if she was experiencing something especially distasteful. “My teachers were short-sighted and did not appreciate what my work was close to achieving. I did not, in fact, do anything wrong,” as Kana continued she seemed to become less directional and was now ranting. She had even dropped her third-person term of address. “They are the ones who are wrong.”

“Ooh, really,” Trixie whistled.

She shared a complicit glance with the yet-nameless Saddle Mareabian. The look he gave her in return encouraged her to make a daring move.

“You know what I think?” Trixie said, raising herself grandly. “I think you’re in here as much because they wronged you as because it’s Twilight’s fault I got into this mess. Shouldn’t that, I don’t know, make us…” she let it hang in the air, slyly. “Friends?”

“Friends?” Kana snapped. “You would be so presumptuous and…” Kana trailed off as what Trixie had said registered properly. There was a lengthy pause as the Kirin doe thought over what had been suggested to her, her face twisting into a grimace.

“This one supposes that you are correct,” Kana finally said, letting out a frustrated sigh that stopped just short of turning into a groan. “Do not, however, presume that we are friends. This one has seen no true reason to associate herself with the likes of you.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad that we are past this,” the Saddle Mareabian then interrupted, cutting Kana off before she could continue.

He’d been watching the altercation with some amusement, but now appeared to have no intent of being left out any longer.

“By the way, since we had our… I suppose ‘introduction’ is appropriate, let me present myself. I am Qabil of the House of Husan and… former,’” a hint of bitterness entered his tone, “court magister to the Malikah of Saddle Mareabia.”

He finished his announcement with a regal bow, his cap once again slipping down from the top of his head. Seeing it a second time, Trixie knew she found it quite adorable.

“Well,” Trixie said, raising herself off the chest. “Trixie is, truly, pleased to find herself in such illustrious company.” And she meant it, for a wonder. One couldn’t deny this had been… fun? “Never would Trixie have dared hope to encounter more than the usual scum and low-life in these ethereal dungeons.”

“On occasion,” Qabil said in response, “this prison does play host to those who are merely misunderstood and therefore unjustly persecuted. I am sure our dear friend,” he emphasised the word as he inclined his head towards Kana, who huffed, “can attest to that. I too am a victim of the small-minded.”

His face fell in such grief and pain as to be almost self-indulgent. To Trixie, it was purely heart-rending to see him suffer so. But, before she could say a word, a loud, angry-sounding knock rattled the backstage door.

“Hey, you in there!” came the voice of the guard. “When you’ve quite finished your yappin’, remember you’re on a timer here! Ten o’clock, lights out, no ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ about it! Just because you Outie louts got your downtime, don’t mean you get to keep the rest of us hard-earning folk up and waitin’!”

It was Albedo. Not a bad sort, as guards went, Trixie was aware of it, and she suspected that the others were, too. A thestral whose bark was worse than their bite. Still, it was true they could get into real trouble for being caught roaming freely during curfew.

It wouldn’t be so great for Albedo, either, yet Trixie actually didn’t want to give her any grief.

“Okay!” Trixie called. “Just a minute, I was finishing packing up, with help of some f-” She hesitated, “some charming assistants who’ve volunteered to help me.”

They all heard the guard grumbling on the other side, but to their vast relief, that was all.

“I believe,” Qabil said slowly, “that we had best do as she says. If my timing is right, we have only akin to five-and-ten minutes left, if we still wish to grab ourselves refreshments before they lock us up for the night.”

Kana grunted. “This one has no real taste for their bilge, but she has already sated herself for the coming evening.”

“And Trixie never performs on an empty stomach,” Trixie said.

He nodded knowingly. “Then we had best make our tracks,” Qabil told them both, gesturing towards Trixie’s precious chest. “Would you require any help in carrying that? You may find it easier were I to carry it on my back, than you should have to log it around with magic.”

No question about it, Trixie really did blush at his genteel offer.

“Thank you, but…” she said, tipping her cap, “Ah, I’m afraid they don’t allow even these personal effects of Trixie’s in her… um, square room. Bet you that’s one reason Albedo’s being so grumpy, see. She has to carry it all into storage herself, afterwards.”

Qabil chuckled genially, and even Kana smiled thinly.

“Alright,” he said. “Let us get a move on.”

It was without further incident that they left the backstage, shadowed by an unamused thestral guard, to retire for the night.

Erebus was a drab, gloomy place. Built like a massive, dark cavern, the grey stone walls rose up in tiers with hollows placed within, like a gargantuan termite mound that stretched up towards a black void with no ceiling. Iron railing ran along the tiers, protecting all that walked along them, and thick bars covered every single hollow, keeping those held within them from escaping.

“So,” Trixie addressed the stallion as they marched, “pray tell the Most Understanding and Listening Trixie, Qabil. What is your story?”

“Well, as I said, I was an esteemed figure within the royal court,” Qabil replied with pride, at the same instant that they exited the entertainment quarters, doors closing behind them. “My family were magicians for many generations. It is much more difficult for our kind to harness the arcane forces of thauma, but we of the House of Husan have had an aptitude for it which few other horses can match.”

“This one will admit that such a reputation, when deserved, is exemplary,” Kana said with a small bow of her head.

“So you don’t act snippy to everyone,” Trixie noted with a frown.

“It is improper to be rude to our superiors,” Kana retorted. “If this horse is a master of the mystical arts then it is only proper to show respect to him.”

“As you should,” Qabil agreed. “I was peerless in the court; even magicians, sorcerers and witches from neighbouring lands envied my skill and knowledge. Naturally, I simply wished to expand my own repertoire.”

“Naturally,” Kana said in agreement, earning a smile from him.

Trixie’s lips curled as she saw the Saddle Mareabian had now turned his attention to the Kirin doe and, unless she was much mistaken, was giving Kana the same looks he had sent Trixie only a moment ago.

“And how did you end up here?” Trixie asked, hoping to steer him back to her.

Qabil’s face fell and returned to that expression of sorrow.

“I became acquainted,” he began heavily, “with a Neighponese stallion who possessed certain ancient texts from forgotten times. Using my family’s name and wealth, I was able to purchase these tomes from him and I intended to use them for my research.” It was then that he let out a weary sigh. “As it turned out, Princess Celestia had been trying to hunt down my acquaintance for distributing dangerous artefacts. And the Malikah saw fit to give me over to her for possessing what the Princess had declared contraband.”

“Truly the Sun Princess knows no propriety,” Kana said with a haughty sniff. “She also bypassed the protocol of the Mikado’s court to incarcerate this one in this place, completely ignoring the laws in place for prosecuting members of the Court.”

These words made Trixie realise how much she was undergoing a strange mix of feelings. Compassion, confusion, and fear. Despite the casual front she put up, she was acutely conscious that these two were, if not royalty, then closely acquainted to it. It hadn’t spared them from ending down here.

What chance did she have?

“I…” she stuttered, for the first time, truly at loss for words. “I don’t understand. You’re both, both of you have clearly got connections. How long have you been in? And, isn’t anyone kicking a fuss about you, back up there?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know about anyone back in Saddle Mareabia,” Qabil answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “The Malikah and Malik did object to your Princess’ pronouncement and my family have told me they explore every route to free me but they have all been overruled. I was not there to witness it, but my guards from before I came here claimed Princess Celestia threatened to revoke the trade deals we had recently made with your land when the Malikah first confronted her.”

Kana, on the other hoof, gave Trixie a blank look. “The Mikado was scarcely pleased at this one’s arrest, claiming the proper protocol was to inform Princess Celestia. As this one remembers it from her trial, your Princess was present and invoked Equestrian law over that of the Kirin, and the Mikado did defer to her.”

Qabil nodded dully.

“Though she may not prime herself as such,” he said quietly, “Celestia is, in all but name, the prison warden of the world. Final say on these matters goes to her. Although, in the grand tradition of hostages and bargaining gems from the old days, she can be negotiated with, when delicate matters call for it.” He sighed, suddenly morose. “But who knows how long that could take, if it ever comes? Weeks, months, years…”

“My goodness,” Trixie whispered. “To think I was making a big deal over five years.”

Qabil then chuckled. Trixie looked at him, surprised and shocked for a moment.

“It’s not as simple as that,” he said to her, turning and giving her an indulgent look.

“What do you mean?” Trixie asked, not liking the feeling she was getting from him.

“I have read much about Erebus and how it works,” Qabil stated. “I was given five years for my crime, a reduced sentence as I had not yet done anything with my cursed tomes. Do you know how long I have been trapped in my cell?”

She knew she’d hate his answer but, swallowing, Trixie plucked up her courage. “How long?”

“As of my last count, it has been nearly twelve years since I was first sent down here,” Qabil told her calmly, though frowning. “Wherever we are, time does not play out as it should. I do not know how long your sentence will actually be in Erebus, but it will most definitely be a long one.”

Every instinct in Trixie’s abruptly overclocked brain was ringing. This should have been the perfect time to scream in hysteria. Except it was too big. She couldn’t wrap her head around what he’d just said.

“Wh-whu… What?” she gasped. “But, I- how… why? Why? What do they want us to do? What are we supposed to do!? They, they do let people out of Erebus at some point, I know they do, I’ve read about it in school! And it can’t be because all of them had their freedoms brought off! I… I just… how could Celestia do a thing like this!?”

“Because we are cursed,” Kana declared. “Or near enough, as the Princess of the Sun considers such things. This one was sentenced for communing with spirits from beyond the veil of mundane magic. Sir Husan possessed dark mystical texts. You, as the rumours say, wielded a terrible item of grave power. Our sentences are a lifetime, but your magnanimous ruler deems it better to imprison us in a realm where we shall not be missed for long. It eases the conscience of those who prosecuted and sentenced us.”

“Indeed,” Qabil acquiesced. “Though I would disagree with the statement that we are cursed, we’ve been damned to a fate that leaves our judges and juries feeling happier with themselves once they’ve sent us down here. The days and years measured in the time of the world above, are the time allotted for the memories of us to fade a little, let the pain that we have caused ease.”

Trixie violently shook her head.

“No…” she whispered pleadingly. “No, no, no-no-no! I can’t possibly deserve this, not this, not a lifetime! What did I do? What did I do!? Not a lifetime! This can’t be happening! There has to be a way out of here!”

“Hey,” a voice said, gently, from behind her.

In the commotion, they’d nearly forgotten the thestral Guard. Albedo had obviously been listening to their conversation. Now, she moved closer to them, her face as disapproving as earlier, but squarely aimed at Kana and Qabil.

“What do you think you’re doing, scaring the filly like that?” she demanded.

Kana shrugged indifferently. “She has to know the truth, even if it hurts.”

“Humph!” Albedo snorted. “It be better to tell her the whole truth, not just broken pieces of it.” She pointed to the row of cells across the chasm. “You see that, Your Ladyship? That over there is the Second Circle, where you and the stud belong. And in a minute, once we reach Lulamoon’s place, I’m gonna march you over the bridge and back home.” She paused. “You’re all Outies here. These aren’t the Inner Circles. For you two to have spent this long in the damn Second Circle and still have a way ahead of ya…” Her face twisted in disgust. “You must be very slow learners, slow learners indeed.”

Trixie was sniffling, cowering on the floor. Albedo knelt down and patted her elbow.

“Don’t you worry,” the Guard told her comfortingly. “I’ve never heard of no-one spend more than fifteen years in the First Circle. Just because those two louses over there aren’t eager to learn their lessons, don’t mean you’ve got to be like them.”

“This one does not appreciate your tone,” Kana groused.

“Indeed,” Qabil added. “We’re merely imparting the true knowledge of this place onto her. How do you think she would have felt if her first five years had passed in this place and she found that she wasn’t being released?”

“Oh, cut it, you,” Albedo said reproachfully. “You’ve been through this, you know it’s mandatory to be told about the setup after the very first year. I’ve known many inmates who have a code of honour about keeping mum on it, but, obviously, you’re not them.”

“The sooner we know the better, I say,” Qabil stated. “I consider it much less fair to leave us ignorant for our first year. I’ll have you also know that the ‘honour system’. as you call it, is mostly in place to bully the new arrivals.”

“This one sees the revelation as a mercy she was cruelly deprived of,” Kana also declared. “Your comrade who was responsible for informing her showed much pleasure in announcing this one’s true sentence.”

Albedo sniffed. “Whatever you say, if it makes you feel better about yourselves.” She tugged Trixie by the shoulders. “‘Ere now, you chin up. Sorry you had to learn this the rough way, but if you do good, you won’t be looking at more than those five years. Now, up with you, I’ve still got to, ahem, tuck you in.”

Trixie nodded, speaking in a small voice. “Okay…”

“And you,” Albedo pursued, staring at the Kirin and Saddle Mareabian. “It’s no fur off my tufted ears, but looked like you had the start of a beautiful friendship goin’ there. Mayhap if there’s anything you wish to tell Lulamoon, now’s your chance. We’ve only got a few steps left to go before splitting.”

Qabil sighed, looking upset at the truth. “Very well,” he said. “Miss Lulamoon, I do apologise for the turn our conversation took. It was a pleasure to finally meet the mare who has enlivened my imprisonment so much in these last few weeks. I will surely be seeing you again in time. Have a good night, and may Fortune smile upon you.”

He gave his usual charming smile despite Trixie’s shaken expression and then bowed again, raising a forehoof to keep his cap in place as he did so. Finished, he walked off towards the bridge between the Circles.

“I do believe I know where my room is,” he called back as he crossed the bridge. “There is no need to escort me.”

This drew a sigh from Albedo, but she said nothing.

“You’re just letting him go?” Kana asked her.

“Outie,” Albedo commented gruffly. “He’s got no better place to go at this hour. I’ll make sure to go check up and turn the key on him, later.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Anyway,” Albedo addressed Trixie, “think you’re fine to walk the rest of it?”

“Yeah… I…” Trixie said hesitantly. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Then let’s go. And you,” the Guard said, turning to Kana, “you’re heading up the front. I’ll be right here, helping her along. No thanks to you.”

“As you say,” Kana replied, turning her snout up again. She then looked at Trixie. “I stand by what I said. You are better knowing sooner rather than later. You will thank this one in time. Until then, good evening, Miss Lulamoon, you turned out to be a far more interesting conversationalist than I initially thought.”

“Yeah, you’ve said your piece,” Albedo snapped. “Now scram.”

Raising an eyebrow at the Guard, Kana, tutted imperiously, turned and walked over to the same bridge Qabil had walked across and moved over to the next Circle.

“I think… I think I really could do with some shut-eye,” Trixie said quietly. “It was an exhausting performance,” she added, in an effort to save face.

“Yeah,” the Guard agreed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

With a little rough prompting, Trixie followed Albedo to her cell. It was one of the alcoves in the cavern wall and, like the rocky surface all around it, was grey and dank-looking. A lamp hung in the ceiling behind the bars, illuminating the small room. At the back was a wooden cot with a small, thin pillow and a scratchy-looking blanket. On one side was a bowl full of water and across from it, a chamber pot. Thankfully, the pot had been emptied and the bowl filled at some point, saving Trixie the trouble of calling for one of the Guards before lights-out.

“Alright,” Albedo said as she unlocked the door and swung it open. “Time to get in.”

Her head was bowed. Trixie could never help it, when she reached this part of the day. All the spark of her performance would quickly begin to dim. She dared not imagine how she’d feel if she didn’t even have that. Or what else they allowed her in this Outer Circle.

In spite of her fellow inmates’ revelation, she still knew that Princess Celestia wasn’t a harsh ruler by nature, and wasn’t the sort who’d leave anyone to wallow in their own filth. As places of confinement went, this was almost cozy. Still, it wasn’t any more comfortable than it apparently needed to be.

Wordlessly, she heeded the Guard and trotted in, eyes downcast.

Trixie was still staring at the floor when she heard the door swing shut, but as she heard the key begin to turn, something inside her made her snap her head up.

“Hey,” she said, turning around.

Albedo stopped in mid-turn, then shut it completely. As the key was between her teeth, she, rather irritably, had to stuff the thing into her saddlebag, out of reach, before she could reply.

“What?”

Dejectedly, Trixie leaned in, grasping the bars with her forehooves.

“I…” She licked her lips. “Well, I can’t stop thinking about what they said. Is it true, you’ve never seen anyone in this Circle for longer than that? I, I mean, how long have you been working here? Does the time thing affect you too?”

Albedo looked away for a moment, her face actually twisting into a discomforted frown. She let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before letting out a sigh and answering.

“Only when I’m on duty,” she admitted, her eyes not meeting Trixie’s.

The Guard didn’t seem about to say more, so Trixie pressed on, sensing there had to be a common ground.

“Five years,” Trixie said, feeling a wave of melancholy. “That’s still got to be pretty long, back on the surface world. But…” Pause. “Trixie… I mean, I… don’t really have anyone. There was only my grandfather, he’s the one who got me into stage magic, and that was ages ago. How often do you get to see your family?”

Albedo sighed again, sounding tired. “Everybody I know is working here, ‘cept for maybe the Princesses. I get to see my family everyday and they’re… they’re all like me now. My friends, though, they’re up top.”

“Friends. Heh.” Trixie chuckled weakly. “Trixie could do with a few of those right now.”

“Yeah, well,” the Guard said gruffly. “Don’t be expecting too much from me. Got to maintain a professional distance. But, you know, Celestia always did say that sometimes, it’s the toughest circumstances which bring people together.”

“You think so?”

“Isn’t that what Hearthswarming’s about?” Albedo asked, giving Trixie the first truly enigmatic look she’d ever seen on the thestral mare.

Trixie opened her mouth, but no words came out. For once in her life, she realised she had nothing, no grand announcement, no snide remark or even some minor wheedling, nothing. And yet she couldn’t simply leave this hanging…

“Hearths… warming?” she said slowly, cheeks pressed to the bars. “I… don’t know. I guess that to me, Hearthswarming was just this big event I could earn some more with…”

“Always alone, right?” Albedo asked. “Alone but comfy?”

“Comfy? Heh, perhaps,” Trixie said, with a weak yet true chuckle. “I had this nice little caravan, that was my place. Always on the road, different morning view, every morning. Not exactly like here. It was wonderful in the winter months, having a fire in the stove.”

“Sounds about right,” Albedo replied with a nod, leaning against the bars but keeping an eye on Trixie. “Afraid that if you want to make it interesting here, you’ll need to get used to others… and work on getting out of here.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful to have a room for myself,” Trixie said, trying to sound as earnest as could be.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Albedo said, pushing herself off of the bars. “Gonna have to leave you to it now. Light’s-out is in ten. G’night.”

With that, she stepped away from the door and down the gallery, leaving Trixie alone.

It didn’t take long. Trixie had been left staring out from behind the bars, for another good few minutes after, but seeing there’d be no more activity, she sighed and turned, daring to face her living quarters. So. A cell. Where the greatest luxuries were a cot, a wash-bowl and a chamber pot. Although it might technically be wider than her old caravan, it never failed to make her feel boxed-in, as soon as she was left alone. She was made for the open stage. Being shut between four walls didn’t agree with her.

Before the dizziness could take over, Trixie trotted over to the wash-bowl and dipped her forehooves into it, cupping them to splash her face, twice. The water trickled down her mane and she had no towel, the prison staff having apparently deemed such things an idle luxury, forcing her to go dry herself off with the far end of her blanket. Which was not as scratchy as it looked, fortunately, but it was certainly coarse.

While none of this was pleasant, it served to sharpen her senses.

“Easy, Trixie,” she whispered to herself, “you’re gonna be alright.”

At least there were no nightmares. Down here as well as in the world above, Princess Luna’s mercy mission to protect her subjects and all others she could reach was upheld. Trixie still remembered her night terrors from childhood, in those years before Luna made her return. The fear of her first night in Erebus lingered, this primal terror that she was abandoned and nobody could help her. Luckily, it seemed there was one Princess looking out for her.

Although she knew it wouldn’t actually be heard, like every night, Trixie knelt to give the Night Princess a small prayer of thanks.

“... Watch over me, okay?” she concluded, her forehooves clasped. “And then Trixie can repay you the favour, with the most magnificent, awesomest Nightmare Night spook show that you ever did see.”

She’d never done such a show, but there was a first time for everything. It did one good, to plan for the future in a place like this. Her prayer finished, Trixie walked away from the bowl and over to her cot. Crawling inside, she paused only to take off her cap, before she rested her head against the thin pillow and pulled the blanket over her body.

There were few noises in Erebus, the sheer size of the prison apparently muffling sounds instead of leaving echoes. Despite the oppressive quiet, or maybe because of it, it was hard for Trixie to sleep. After tossing and turning one time too many, she made herself breathe in, like her grandfather had taught her, her same ward against stage fright. She knew she had a long time ahead of her. But there was now, at least, one day less. Keeping that in mind, Trixie shut her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note

Just a strange little idea that's been trotting through my head for some time, dating back to what was originally a gag passage I wrote in late 2016 for Redskin122004's since-defunct The Other Side of the Spectrum, now rebooted and currently on-going by TheIdiot as Spectrum.

What if Trixie actually had to face jail time for her misdeeds with the Alicorn Amulet?

Despite the prison setting, this is not intended to be a grimdark story. Very little will happen in this story that one couldn't picture happening on the show, even if the location isn't as colourful or upbeat.

Many thanks to RoyalPsycho for his willingness to participate in roleplaying this idea, and providing the characters of Kana and Qabil. :twilightsmile: