Kings, Queens, and Degenerates
When he was a colt, Sombra had immersed himself in the inner-workings of magic - and in turn, disappointed himself. He had been angry - angry at the unicorn community for their stagnation, at his friends for their lack of interest in the arts, and at himself for his own shortcomings at it.
He remembered the first time he had tried to use magic. It felt the same as it did now - slick against his bindings, erratic and wild. He had not felt like that for almost a thousand years.
His choices were coming back to inexorably doom him to a terrible fate, as they seemed wont to do. He was facing the trial that all do-badders of Equus inevitably faced: Eternal damnation to Tartarus. He wondered if it would be as easy to escape as it had been last time he had been ‘eternally damned’ here. Undoubtedly not. Things had changed - things he was not privy to.
So there he sat, surrounded on all sides by the stinking bodies of his fellow prisoners, awaiting his reunion with the dark, sweltering confines of his cell. He had already tried to remove his bindings and his magic had slid off of them like water. But he had not resigned himself quite yet. If patience was the virtue, he was the saint that displayed it. Time was his friend. For now.
Sombra’s chest fur was matted with sweat, the metal chariot around them being the perfect conductor of heat. His breath was heavy - his imperial origins in the snowy peaks of the north coming back to bite him in the flank.
“Will you be silent! Insolent fool - your shrieking exhalation will have us put to the guillotine!”
He didn’t bother to respond with more than an icy glare.
The midnight black alicorn across from him regarded him with eyes full of malice and annoyance. She had no mane, the band around her horn stripping her of all her magic. A pitiful sight. He hoped that the look he was giving her was of even greater hatred. Two could play at that game; he was the creator of it, after all.
He scanned the bleak chariot-like vessel around him, the cabin extending lengthwise with little width to it, leaving him and his fellow future ‘inmates’ cramped uncomfortably close together. The vehicle was enclosed with a dark metal roof, leaving them in dim darkness, the only light being through the ‘windows” beside each of them. They were more akin to portholes.
“If anything, your ancient speech will have us mistaken for a gang of bygone conquerors.”
Both of them looked to the left at the changeling queen who sat beside the alicorn. Her carapace was cracked in many places and her face was gaunt. “Your opinion is of no import, insect. If these bindings didn't rob me of my magic, I would have turned you into a splat on the wall!”
The alicorn and changeling queen glared at one another, restrained by only the stalwart metal bindings at their hooves and horns. He found that he didn’t care in the slightest for their little squabble.
“Trixie thinks you should all shut up.”
All eyes turned to the speaker - an azure unicorn mare. Overall, the least menacing of the group, yet seemingly most courageous.
Trixie giggled nervously. “Or you can all keep talking! Don’t mind Trixie, she’s just taking in the wonderful view!” The mare turned back out to the window beside her.
He looked out of the small porthole towards the land below. It looked exactly as he remembered it. Large upthrusts of rock layered themselves like interlocked teeth over fields of molten lava. The occasional spout of lava would shoot up, filling the air with burning heat and light. Darkness was abound in the air, the massive cavern possessing no natural light sources.
There was something different though - a change from before. He remembered their previous holdings: large towers of rock in which they would reside, confined to them for their entire stay. But there was none of that. Only an obsidian black castle resting atop a large mountain in the middle of the lava lake.
It was different. It was unwelcome. It was despised.
His expectations and previous experiences had been dismantled right before his eyes, rather violently. The exterior of the castle had made the fool of him. The stark white walls of the holding cell around him were a testament to it’s trickery.
What had originally been a quick drop-off of him and other prisoners had turned into a protracted game of “hurry up and wait”. He had been called back several times for various procedures such as getting his ‘jumpsuit’ on. The demeaning outfit was the least of his concerns at the moment, though.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie demands that you play cards with her!”
How the mare had snuck the deck of cards through the security pat down was beyond him but he wished she’d been caught. She had asked him several times already and like the socialite he was, he had put on his most unsociable mask and sat unmoving in the corner of the cell.
“You are in no position to be making any demands, mare.” He fixed her with the coldest glare he could muster and he watched her spine quiver in fear.
“Y-yes well, If you don’t play cards with Trixie, she will cry. You wouldn’t like that would you?”
“Mr. Sombra, please follow me.” Their conversation was interrupted by the opening of the cell door and a tug on the magic-denuding chains around his hooves. He didn’t have much time before he was hauled onto his hooves and led out of the chamber room.
About time.
He remained in that state of sanguinity and gratitude until he realized his captor was not a guard coming to lead him to his cell but the same bubbly mare who had given him the jumpsuit. “It’s my first day,” she had said. Was Tartarus some entry level job position for unlucky ponies now?
“This is the last thing to do before we send you to your real cell. Then you’ll get to meet all the other inmates. I’m sure they’ll love you!” The mare gazed back at him with a look that made his fur tingle.
They entered a stark white room. “Hold this.” The mare shoved a small plack into his hooves. There were small letters stenciled into it that read: Prisoner 96 and underneath them, Sombra.
“Smile for the camera!” He barely faced forward before his world turned white.
Author's Note
Written by Unique and I. I hope you enjoy it!
Also yes, Prisoner 96 is a play on 69.
