King and I - 25

A small vial of luminous green liquid is gently levitated down onto the wooden table. “This is the potion we’ll be using to fake Sombra’s death. It knocks you out cold, slows down your heartbeat and lowers the surface temperature of your skin,” Fury gleefully explains, “A brilliant piece of work, even if I do say so myself.”

“And it’ll fool the rebels?” You ask, holding it between your hooves. The glass is extremely fragile, something the other mages learnt the hard way trying to produce the stuff.

“It’ll show them what they want to see; to any outside observer the pony is long past their sell by date. By the time they have a medic on hand to check, you will have revived him and helped finish them off.”

Sombra still doesn’t look convinced. “And how do I know that I will be revived in time?”

“Rose will be waiting in the medical wing, we bring you there and she can pop out from her hiding spot and get you back up. From there it’s a simple matter of waiting until the storm has blown over.” Another vial is dragged into your vision, this time it’s a clear, watery looking fluid.

“Simple,” you chirp. You place the vial back down onto the table. “I don’t see what you’re getting so worried about, all you have to do is play dead…”

“In a situation where my performance could rapidly become reality,” he finishes. “This better be the most convincing fake death potion ever concocted, or there’ll be hell to pay,” he threatens.

“Trust me, this is using his recipe, they won’t know a thing.” Sombra visibly tightens up at the mention of this. “I didn’t even say it,” Fury defends himself, “you need to stop being so sensitive. A hardened king like yourself...” he mutters trailing off. “I’ll just shut up now.”

“Good,” Sombra states. “I presume everything is in place?”

“The moment of truth,” Fury claps his hooves together. “All of our problems are about to disappear.”

“If they attack in the first place, are we sure that they’re coming tomorrow?” One of the mages asks from behind.

“No doubt in my mind they will come for us tomorrow, we’ve presented them the opportunity on a golden platter and they’d be foolish to not take it, if it were not a trap of course. The timing is right and they need one last big play to try and win this war.”

“I can’t wait, I’ve forgotten what a normal day feels like,” another mage cheers, receiving many similar affirmatives from his surrounding colleagues. The excited chatter soon overtakes Fury’s explanations; he huffs and seemingly gives up. One of the mages taps his shoulder and pulls him into the crowd, leaving you alone with Sombra.

He turns and walks away from the commotion and having nothing else to do you decide to follow him. He sends a sideways glance at you as you try to keep pace with him but remains silent until you reach the door to what you presume are his private quarters.

“Why are you following me?”

“Now, or with this whole civil war thing?”

“Both. It’s very unlike you to seek out my company, an understandable position all things considered. Furthermore your support of my cause seems like a practice in indecision rather than a committed effort to assist me.”

He opens the doors with his magic and trots into an opulent room much similar to yours. There are some small differences. Red banners hang from the roof much like in the hallways, and a large window directly across from the door lets in the early morning light. You wish you had a window, but they haven’t moved you since the first attack on the palace.

You dabble on the fresh hold, unsure of whether or not you have his permission to enter. “Come in?” he says with an unasked question on his lips.

You enter the room fully and sit down on one of the couches. “I thought I needed permission,” you answer.

“I’m not that rigid with my rules.”

“Who am I to give myself permission to enter your personal quarters?”

“When I walked in on you in the bath?”

He has you there. You sigh and fall back onto the incredibly comfy sofa. “I’d just like to apologize again. It was unbecoming of me to barge in without permission.” He sits down on the small space left open.

“It doesn’t matter, technically we’re naked all the time anyway,” you muse.

Sombra looks confused. “What do you mean?”

You sit back up and look at hit oddly. “Back home everybody always wore clothes to cover themselves, I thought you knew that?”

“We’ve never really discussed your home before because I assumed it was a point of contention for you. I’m interested in hearing about it.”

Damn, where do you start? “Do you just want to hear about me, or just some of the stuff that’s different back home? I’m sorry to say but I was pretty boring person.”

“Tell me about your world,” he rumbles, leaning forward on his forearms like an eager schoolchild.

“Well, it’s a lot like this place. Green grass, blue skies and oceans, cities and towns.”

“How big were these settlements?”

“Huge, far larger than the empire here. Millions of people crammed into a small area, repeated across the world.”

A look of wonder crosses his face, with a dash of… fear mixed in. The first time you’ve seen him like this and it’s because of how many humans lived back home. “Did you like it there?”

His question hangs in the air, uncomfortably; you shift in your seat and wince slightly as you think back to that night in your apartment. The musty air, the dirty floors, the spoiled food all comes rushing back. You would have never seen it before, but no, you didn’t like it back home.

“I’d say I was… blissfully ignorant to what my life was like. It was routine, and I didn’t care much about myself or my living conditions.”

Sombra jumps in, “So do you prefer it here?”

You remain silent once again, thinking it over. “It’s certainly more exciting then what I’m used to.” Sombra nods, but you can tell it isn’t quite the answer he was looking for. “What? Were you expecting a thank you?”

“Not at all. You’re being vague with yourself, you aren’t sure of what you want,” he states. “Your old life was boring, but ordinary, free from the danger of conflict. You don’t want to admit it, but you like it here, I can see that.”

You don’t give him any answer, content to let the awkward silence roll on. It makes Sombra visibly uncomfortable when you brick wall him like this. He shouldn’t be pointing out your sudden development of Stockholm syndrome.

Silver’s taunt comes back to you, leering about you wanting to sleep with Sombra. You look over to the pensive king who is absorbed in watching the embers of the dying fire. It casts a flattering orange glow across his strong features. Is strong the right word? After so long spent here around other ponies you have a small inkling of what constitutes strong or weak and ugly or attractive, but not so much that you could categorize people on it.

From admitting that Sombra is attractive by pony standards to jumping into bed with him are a fair way off. Personally you still think he’s kind of repugnant, something that only now he’s vowed to work on. He seriously needed that reality check.

What do you want to stay here for? Excitement, friendship, some kind of stubborn need to see this fight through to the end? You’ve come too far to give up now after all, it’s the eve of the end. You’re either going to die pathetically or be instrumental in the conclusion of a conflict which has been a long time coming.

Still, you desire more answers.

“Why did you choose me?”

Sombra blinks himself out of his stupor, his interest reignited by your sudden query. “Why?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “why was I the one to be brought here?”

“Fate?” He answers, unsure of his own answer.

“Retrospectively we could pin anything down to fate, an invisible little hand that pick and chooses where we go, what we do, what happens to us so we can reach an inevitable conclusion. Why did you pick me that night?”

“You won’t like my answer.”

“I can take it.”

“I didn’t choose anybody. I’m sure Fury has spilled some of the details like the loudmouth he is. The spell I used was infinitely complex, but also infantile in effect. For my effort and huge contribution of magical energy my only insight into the realms outside our own was the bright sparks of those inhabiting them.”

“Bright sparks, you mean like souls?”

“Nothing quite as romantic, my hypothesis is that they are directly proportional to your individual intelligence. Previously I had brought through other, less bright creatures, and as already said they were incapable of basic function. The poor things died after a few minutes being unable to breathe properly in their new bodies.”

“And you just brought me through when that happened?” You shout with a sudden flash of anger. “I could have died!”

“But you didn’t. I wouldn’t have gone down that path had I not known whether or not a creature, formerly like you could breathe or not. Don’t take me for some idiot, doing things by whimsy or childlike curiosity; I have lived for nearly two centuries.”

Taken aback you sink into your seat. “I shouldn’t have asked,” you relent.

“I understand your curiosity but you don’t know as much as you think you do. Things aren’t that simple anymore.”

In a decidedly foul mood you rise from your seat and head to the door. “I would know if you told me anything.”

“You seem to be doing a fine job of finding out for yourself.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” you huff, closing the door behind you. Sombra lets out a grim sigh as your hoof steps fade away into the distance.

“Hello Warm,” you chirp. The bookish mare jumps slightly, too engrossed in her latest read to notice your approach. Once again you find yourself back in the library with yet another stack of books obstructing your view. A small muzzle pokes from around the pile and lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.

“Did you hear about what is happening tomorrow?” This catches her attention; she closes the book and slides it away.

She grabs the pile of books and places them onto the ground, allowing you to see her face. “No, what’s going on?”

“Fury’s come up with some crazy, long winded plan to ambush all of the rebels. So there’s going to be fighting in the palace tomorrow, you should find somewhere to go until it blows over.”

“Really? It’s not like Mr. Fury to take action like that.”

“Well he’s frustrated with Sombra for not doing anything sooner; it seems like something he’d be willing to do when pushed to it. I’m worried about the staff though.”

She smiles and re-opens her book on paranormal occurrences, “I wouldn’t worry too much, I’m sure they’ll tell the staff what’s going on or at least order us to stay in our quarters. Did you come here to ask me anything else?”

“Not really, just thought I’d let you know,” you say tapping an idle hoof against the wooden table.

Warm looks up from her book and smiles, “Thank you, it’s nice to know that you care about me.”

“I care about all of my friends,” you scoff, leaving her to her reading.

You stare at the ceiling, shifting as an errant itch works its way down your leg. A nervous blossom of warmth in your chest leaves you wide awake. It’s night time and you know that Silver will be there to confront you again. With a sigh you bang your head against the soft pillow, frustrated at your inability to will yourself to sleep.

Can he even hurt you in a dream? That’s silly, there’s no way he could. You’re just making excuses again.

You lock your eyes shut and lay there for what seems like hours. You’re nervous.

“You should be.”

Your eyes snap open, a fractured sea of glimmering crystal floats above you filling out the empty void beyond. In your periphery your eye catches onto the distinct arches of the throne room. With a grunt you sit up, almost head-butting Silver who has brought it upon himself to go in for a kiss of life. He jumps back and gives you a cocky smile.

“What do you want?” You mutter bitterly.

He pouts and rubs his chin, “Hm, I don’t know. Is it so wrong for me to have some light conversation with my dearest friend? This place is dreadfully boring without company.” You don’t reply. “What’s with the long face?” He asks obnoxiously.

You remain stone faced, looking out into the black void beyond the empty window frames.

“Oh! Don’t tell me you bucked him already!” He shouts.

“No,” you respond with burning cheeks, shutting him down, “I just don’t want to engage you; I have enough to worry about.”

“Wedding arrangements and foal names I presume?” He teases while poking your back. “I’m so happy for him! It’s about time.”

“Piss off,” you spit. “Unless you have something interesting to say, zip it.”

Silver makes a zipper motion over his mouth and sits back on his haunches. “Or, maybe I could entice you with a little history lesson about me and Sombra.”

This catches your attention. Your ears perk up slightly, something that he notices.

“Gather round children, as I tell the tragic tale of Silver Shield, former senior mage for the Crystal Empire. Once upon a time there were three brothers, Sombra, Fury and their little bro Silver.”

In retrospect, you should have seen that coming. You look over to Silver, who is growing noticeably flustered at the mention of his family. “Silver always looked up to his big brothers, they were both amazing with their magic, and ruled a huge city and were loved by all of their subjects. So he practiced, day after day after day, until he found out his true calling, blood magic.”

That confirms your suspicions, Silver is a blood mage. “His brothers were really happy with him, and they showered him with praise and worked hard to help him perfect and control his dangerous talent. Little Silver Shield was very skilled, with a large natural magic reserve, and he was soon inducted into the mages guild.”

He stops dead, his eyes growing cloudy as he looks off into the void. He shakes under his fur, slowly picking up speed as he begins to pace again. “Silver really enjoyed it; he got to spend lots of time with his two amazing brothers. But… something wasn’t right.

“I could hear them talking behind my back. About things happening beyond our little slice of paradise in a land called Equestria. I was too young back then to concern myself with that, I trusted them; they always knew what to do. So I was kept blissfully unaware as they went on the warpath, hunting down my fellow blood mages, exiling or outright executing them as they went,” he trails off.

“They came for you,” you say, not as a question, but as a statement.

Silver nods. “They did. With their armies at the ready, they waited outside of our shield. Not content to rid their own nation of the so called menace, but other nations too. They didn’t just want to contain us, they wanted to exterminate us so that we could never do harm.

“The siege was a failure and the Equestrians, battered and beaten, hobbled back to their own land. We celebrated with a big street party,” he smiles.

“But that wasn’t the end? I saw the fatality list Silver, you included.”

His smile vanishes like dust in a gale, “Clever, you’ve done your homework. I suppose there’s no reason for me to hide anything from you.

“That certainly wasn’t the end of our little conflict, it was just the beginning. The citizens had their grievances and their dead to bury, and part of the blame fell onto me and the other blood magic users for attracting them in the first place. Sombra put a stop to that soon enough but the other mages were mad that the ponies they had worked so hard to protect had turned on them so quickly.

“I was one of them. My position of influence as the brother of the King made it easy for me to sway some of them to my side. I found myself as the leader of a counter-movement in support of our right to live as the rest of them did. Sombra, he understood my frustrations and tried to sort things out before they could get any worse. It broke out into clashes within the palace; it was chaos, with the guards confused as to who they should get behind.

“The timing couldn’t have been worse, the Equestrians moved against us again. They’d been waiting, the bastards, for the right moment to strike. They knew what was happening, and now I think that they had something to do with it all. They betrayed us and welcomed them with open hooves, glad to get rid of the blood mage menace…” He winces.

“You don’t have to tell me any more, I can guess what happened.” He looks down to the ground and nods.

“In the end, Sombra did nothing. My own brother abandoned me and fed me to the wolves. I’ve been trying to tell you to stay away from him; all he cares about is himself. He was torn between popular support for his rule and his loyalty to me. After we were all dead, only then did he move in to expel them; leaving the capital in ruins, and the empire without any blood mages.”

One questions slips from your mouth before you can properly think on it, “How did you survive?”

His previously downtrodden demeanor switches drastically, that cocky smirk returning to his face. You’re taken aback once again as he begins to laugh jovially.

“Survive? Who says I did?”