King and I - 16

A short nap is all you get before the door is nearly knocked over by the guards. You gingerly rise from the bed and move to open the door, revealing, much to your surprise, another pair of guards. Going through the motions you shuffle along with them to the dining hall. “Stay here,” one of them says indifferently before moving into the room. You can hear the guard and who you presume to be Sombra through the door.

The guard comes back after a minute or two, “you can go in now.” He trots off with his partner in crime, leaving you to wonder what’s so special about tonight. You open the door and notice right of the bat that the lights have been dimmed, leaving the room in comfortable darkness. A flashy set of candles illuminate the table, which has been covered with a flawless white sheet.

Only two normal chairs have been set across from each other. Your eye twitches slightly at the implication. You growl and reluctantly sit down on one of the seats, awaiting the inevitable arrival of the big headed King. He was talking to the guard a moment ago, where is he now?

The door you entered through opens once more, allowing a temporary flood of light to fill the room. It’s Sombra, and for some awful reason he has a rose clenched between his teeth like he’s about to perform some kind of cheesy waltz. What actually surprises you is the lack of his trademark crown and cape, leaving him bare for the first time.

Well, at least he put some effort into this.

You still can’t catch a glimpse of his cutie mark from this angle; you silently urge him to hurry his little routine up so you can see it. With a confident stride he walks to the table, sliding into his spot across from you. The rose floats from his mouth towards you, you put what little knowledge you have of levitation to use and take it from him with an awkward smile.

“It’s… lovely,” you say in an attempt to placate him. Silently you’re kind of flattered that he’d do all this romantic stuff, but it’s overtaken by simmering anger at the nerve of him for doing so just a few hours after letting you get taken prisoner by potentially hostile rebels. You get the feeling that he doesn’t have quite as much control or assurance as he lets on, and there was equal chance of them killing you on the spot rather than arresting you.

You carefully place the delicate rose next to your plate. No need to seem ungrateful about it and cause a big scene. “What let this on?” you ask, stricken by his sudden need to set up a romantic dinner with you.

“Nothing at all dear, I just felt like a little reward was in order for your efforts so far,” he bullshits. He probably thinks he’s going to get his dick wet by the end of this. Your idea of a reward or in this case an apology dinner isn’t usually accompanied with having dinner with the megalomaniac who’s nearly killed you multiple times.

“You decided that having a cheesy romantic dinner with you was exactly what I wanted after getting captured?”

“It was a spur of the moment idea,” he admits. “Although I dare say that I had planned on something like this beforehoof, so we can have a personal discussion for once.”

“I can barely contain my excitement,” you respond dryly.

“No need to be so sour about the whole thing. There are no expectations to meet here, I just feel like you and I need to reach a greater understanding.”

“About?”

“Each other,” he scoffs. “What else is there to understand? It’s easy to state your motivations, but painting a picture of somepony in your mind is a long distance from actually knowing them. I could tell you that I desire to keep my empire peaceful, and free from the grip of the royal sisters, but that won’t change things. You already think you know exactly how I work.”

“Is this a two way street? I don’t have much to say for myself I’m afraid.” Sombra ponders for a moment, his eyes darting away from your own.

“Maybe, the extent of our acquaintance depends solely on how much you wish to say,” his eyes meet yours once again, a hidden insistence beneath the emerald irises. “If you do, this will be a quiet dinner indeed.”

The last thing you want to do is give Sombra more information about yourself, the intent is clear as day. He wants to know more about you so you can be easier to control if things go awry. But a niggling little voice pipes up in your head, shouting at you about the opportunity to find out more about the mysterious stallion, and about the conflict which you’ve become an unwitting participant in. What more could he know about you anyway?

“Fine, we’ll talk as long as you give me straight answers.”

“I am a stallion of my word; there will be no deceit this evening,” he holds a hoof to his chest, puffing it out like a territorial bird. You find some small amusement in the appropriate stance for such a pompous idiot.

A waiter stallion steps up to him, complete with a little cloth over his arm. Sombra deflates and leans back into his seat. “What would you like to order sir?”

“I would like a tuna salad and some of our oldest red wine, if you’d please.”

Tuna salad? You haven’t seen anything remotely close to meat since you arrived, after that bacon from your old apartment you hadn’t had the nerve to ask. “It’s an acquired taste,” he says, dismissing your unasked question.

“For the lady?” The waiter asks, jotting down the order on a small notepad with a quill. Why not? You ate meat before, so what’s stopping you now? Beside the potential for it tasting like piss covered sawdust like the bacon.

“The same, actually.”

Sombra actually looks surprised for once, but the waiter doesn’t bat an eye. He must be used to Sombra keeping odd company. “Very good,” the stallion mutters, walking back into the kitchen. Sombra seems to mull over your desire for animal flesh for a moment.

“You desire the same as me? How peculiar.”

“I used to do it all the time back home, I didn’t know it was available.”

“I presume your old race readily consumed meat, predators perhaps?”

“Not so much, we had farms too you know. I thought you’d have known things like this.” The waiter hustles back into the room with a bucket full of ice and the red wine Sombra had ordered. With a little bow he popped the cork and poured a small measure into both of your glasses before hastily leaving once again.

“I have to admit,” he begins, taking a sip of the strong wine, “you aren’t the first I have brought from beyond the veil. A few preceded you.”

You stop lifting the glass to your lips and scowl at him, “What?”

He bites his tongue, before quietly responding. “You weren’t the first creature I brought from beyond our world. The others demonstrated some small inkling of intelligence, a dull candle in a dark room, which is what attracted me to them. In the body of a pony, I discovered they were little more than animals. Licking themselves and defecating on the floor.”

“…”

“Don’t look at me like that; imagine it from my own perspective. There I was, spending another long night in my study; when I see it, that shining light in the void. The others were plain to see, but nothing too striking. You, you were a star in comparison to them, enough to enflame the void and draw my admiration.”

He looks away breathlessly, “Truly a grand moment, indeed.”

You would call having your genitals stolen very grand, but you decide to ignore his posturing. Thankfully two plates of food are slid into place before he could annoy you further with tales about him kidnapping you across dimensions. A carefully arranged tuna salad lies in front of you with fresh pink meat forming an island, surrounded by a sea of fresh green lettuce and peppered with the occasional juicy tomato.

You look up to see the King already floating a fork full into his muzzle. He looks like he’s enjoying it a bit too much for your comfort. “Delicious.” He whispers, his long tongue flicking across his sharp teeth. He looks down to you expectantly.

You shift your gaze back down to the salad in an attempt to mask your discomfort. You hastily life your fork and stab down into the tuna, lifting it to your own mouth. It smells different from what you’re used to thanks to these new pony senses. You hesitate after your experience with the old bacon from your fridge, but Sombra looks really eager to see you eat it for some reason, his gaze glued to the tip of the fork.

The strong and long forgotten taste of the sea hits your sensitive taste buds as pieces of the flaky tuna break off onto your tongue. Unlike the rancid taste of the bacon from your apartment, the tuna is actually nice and you find it perfectly possible to swallow. Sombra simply watches in fascination as you mull over the new taste that your body brings.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he says, falling back into his chair. “It took me a good long while to get used to the idea of eating meat, but an old griffon friend of mine was quite insistent that I try it. I’ve been hooked ever since, but finding it is another story all together, the voluntary blockade on the city has caused us to make a good few sacrifices.” He says while living in an opulent castle, his every beck and call answered to by his own personal maids.

You roll your eyes and focus on the salad, still sore about his casual referral to his magical experiments. Sombra displays a startling sense of social awareness as he quiets down, a small inkling of remorse on his face. “I do suppose this isn’t the best subject to bring up over dinner, let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes, let’s.”

But instead you’re met with an awkward silence. The candle flickers orange light across the room, occasionally illuminating it just enough for you to get a good look at his face. You have to admit Sombra is quite handsome in the typical square jaw kind of way. In fact you wouldn’t be afraid to admit it if you weren’t on such bad terms with him. Even then romance is the last thing on your mind as of late, would you even want to date such a monster?

Sombra seems to think so, or else he wouldn’t have set up this swanky little dinner. There are some things you like about him, like your little games of insult tennis, or the occasional joke that isn’t at your expense, but it’s completely outweighed by all of the bad shit he’s put you through as of late. Watching him execute those prisoners brought out something in him you don’t wish to see again; his anger, untamed and unmeasured by those around him.

His zealous dedication to “protecting” the citizens of the empire would be admirable if it weren’t for the self-evident selfish motivations behind it. He needs to keep the people happy under the guise of protection. He tells them about the scary royal sisters knocking on their front door, like a story told to foals to scare them away from being naughty, so they won’t go running to them for help.

Maybe, just maybe they are as he describes. Expansionist conquerors, who want nothing more than to bring the entire pony race under their metal clad hooves. You don’t know, because you haven’t seen them for yourself. You can’t take his word for it.
Your musing is interrupted by a rather quiet, “I’m sorry,” escaping from Sombra’s mouth.  “Is there any way I can atone for my misgivings?”

“I don’t know, there are a lot of things you could do.” He doesn’t seem to be satisfied by your answer.

“Like?” He rolls a hoof for you to go on.

You lean forward, “What’s the point in me just telling you? You won’t learn if you don’t look back on your own mistakes.” With that you move to leave, but just before you cross the threshold of the door you look back on the King, who seems to be deep in thought. You finally get a look at his cutie-mark too, a simple purple diamond.

 How quaint.