My Little Gulag: Freedom is Magic

by Cobra of England

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 1041

One penal camp. Fifty alicorn inmates. One hundred guards. A endless blizzard. What can go wrong?

Camp 1. Also called Camp Crystal, or by those unfortunate enough to live there, the Asylum. Once you're in, you don't come out. We are reviled by the few who know of us as the rejects, the scum of Equestria sent to do our penance for our 'crimes'.

What's the crime in being a Alicorn?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-15 21:50:01 UTC

Into the Asylum

Thud. The sound echoed down the silent stone corridors of The Asylum's cell block, distorted by the small size of the corridors. The prisoners slept soundly in their cells, horns chained to the ceiling even in their sleep. A cold breeze blew through the cells, courtesy of the barred holes at the top of each cell. The smell of dirty bodies filled the stale air in the gallery as two guards trotted through, not even bothering to check on the prisoners and just grateful they hadn't drawn tower duty this week.

Outside, the slicing, bitterly cold wind that pervaded the entirety of the Crystal Lands howled between the buildings of the Asylum, piling yet more snow before the high stone walls and towers. The guards were kneeled over behind the ramparts, drunk from the large amount of wiskey they had drunk to warm themselves. The ballistae sat idle, unloaded and with the strings and mechanisms removed for storage during the winter.

A train blew a small whistle of steam into the air as it steamed away from the Camp, carrying wagons loaded with timber cut from the thick forests that surrounded the prison beyond the 200 meter kill zone. That train would be the last contact for three months before the snow thawed enough to let another pass along the railway.

There was another thud, prompting a groan from one of the convicts. Tattered brown wings stretched out from beneath a thin, hole-filled blanket before the blanket was thrown onto the floor, revealing the brown, horned head of a unicorn.

"Would you stop throwing that hell-damned ball around Catcher? Some of us want some rest." the alicorn shouted.

"No can do P, we ain't gonna 'ave lumber duty today with dat snow." a jet- black alicorn with a broken horn shouted from the cell opposite, a large glove and ball resting in his hoof. "An what else hav I gotta do in ere till Rec Room opens?"

"At least I can have some rest!" P shouted back. "And everyone else will want some as well!"

"Like I care! We're stuck ere till you or Big C come up with a good plan to escape da 'sylum."

"I'm working on it, ok? They don't call me 'Planner' for nothing."

Catcher rolled his eyes. "Den plan better an quicker, Planna. It'z wot yer name says."

"I already said I'm working on it!"

"Den plan fasta."

"I already said I'm working on it!" P shouted, causing many of the others to stir uneasily in their sleep before a pair of guards clad in gold armour and carrying long spears beside them with their magic trotted into the convicts vision.

The two stopped, before one spoke out.

"Inmates P-1 and C-2, would you be silent. I do not need my report being cluttered with useless drivel about you two acting up again." The guard on the left groaned.

"You idiots are keeping us stuck up here, guarding a bunch of powerless alicorns when you could all just go die in the snow, it would be better for all of us." The guard on the right added. "Or if the Princess was a tiny bit more ruthless..."

P signed behind the bars. "Or maybe if she was less paranoid about us?"

The guards snorted. "It's not paranoia, we know all about the riots last year."

"Riots caused because you keep us here." P deadpanned.

"Come on Bright Spear, I don't have time to listen to his idiotcy." With that, the two guards walked off further into the corridor, beyond the convict's vision.

"So Planna?" Catcher said as he continued to kick the ball he'd bought with all of last year's salary against the wall. "Wot we'z gonna do? Ya think Maja Newz has got somethin?"

"Major News always has something, but this year...." P stood up and rested his head between the cell bars. "I can already tell it isn't going to be good."

Catcher chuckled. "Like anythin he says is gonna be good. It's either dose 'Lements of 'Armony stopped some big threat or some other crap like dat."

"But that is good!" P protested. "We could escape! We'd have our freedom! If only one of those damned Bearers would end up clobbered in a Canterlot back alley..."

Catcher rolled his eyes. "Yer a idiot. We'd all freeze t' death out dere."

"I suppose I didn't think of that... We need the train to escape." P groaned. He would need to think beyond the escape and how they were going to cross the many miles of snow that lay beyond the forest. "Or if that idiot Sombra would finally get off that fat smokey rump of his and haul ass here. We helped him all those years ago, why can't he help us now?"

"Cuz Sombra's a helluva idiot thing. He ain't gonna 'elp us, not if dat thing Maja Newz told us about is right."

"It could be worse..." P sighed. "We could have been executed."

Catcher laughed as the other alicorns slowly began to stir from their sleep.

"Bein dead would be betta that bein a prisonsa. We're all gonna die ere, Planna. Live with dat. Sombra ain't gonna show, Big C ain't gonna get to smash that Sun Bitch's face in with 'is hooves, you ain't gonna get to piss on the 'Lements of 'Armony and Dark Jukebox ain't gonna get dat magical amp of 'is back."

"Unless..." Catcher pressed his face right up against the bars. "You get plannin, Planna."

"What do you think I'm trying to do now, you idiot? Be quiet and let me think."

Silence decended upon the cellblock, broken by the occasional thud of Catcher's ball hitting the wall or the groan of a sleeping inmate.

"Screw this." P broke the silence. "Who needs a plan? Plans haven't got us anywhere, have they Catcher?"

"Huh?" Catcher turned away from the wall. "I 'supose you're right bout dat, Planna. Improvise?"

P grinned. "Exactly. The guards expect us to plan a escape. We'll just improvise and take them by surprise and mount those white heads of theirs on their pretty little spears out in the snow."

Catcher grinned back. "I like da sound of dat."