//------------------------------//
// Sympathy For The Devil 
// Story: Dark Arts and Kind Hearts 
// by Boomstick Mick 
//------------------------------//

Fluttershy, upon waking, was vaguely able to recall the dream she had just had. A raging black tempest of apocalyptic proportions was ravaging everything in its wake. Her friends and other citizens were retreating from it, cautioning her in a panic to run away as they passed her by. Some even made an attempt to make a grab for her in order to drag her to safety. For reasons beyond her comprehension she wasn't afraid. She remembered walking headlong into it, and when she let the vicious storm consume her, it dispersed all around her until there was nothing left of it. 

She opened her eyes and immediately realized it was still dark outside. Some hours must have passed while she was asleep, as the moon that so beautifully shone in the twilight of the night sky was nowhere to be seen. The only source of light in the chamber came from the fire, which cracked and roared intensely as if it had recently been fed fresh lumber. Fluttershy sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She noticed her husband standing in front of the fireplace. He appeared to be looking down into the flames, though it was hard to guess from just staring at his back. Curious, she pushed the thick blankets away and crawled out of bed to go meet with him.

"Go back to sleep, my queen," Sombra said, when she joined him by his side.

Fluttershy looked into his eyes as he gazed into the fire. His visage expressed a rather unsettled expression. "My king, is something wrong?"

"T'is nothing," the king replied. "Go back to sleep, little dove."

"Why are you being evasive?" Fluttershy said, though not unkindly.

Sombra's eyes glinted when they shifted toward her. "I'm not."

"But you are." The queen felt that she was testing the waters by arguing with him, but she persisted. What was he going to do to her? Raise his voice to her? Strike her? She doubted it. If he genuinely felt a shred of the affection that he had been showing her, he wouldn't dare.

The king let out an audible sigh of irritation. "A dream," he conceded. "That is all."

"A nightmare, you mean?" Fluttershy guessed. "What was your dream about?"

"Is there a point to these questions?" Sombra snapped in a mild tone that had a bite of insecurity to it. "T'is nothing to worry yourself over."

"Why is that?" Fluttershy insisted. "Why shouldn't I be worried about you?"

"It is not your place to worry about me."

"Yes, it is. I'm your wife and queen. If it's not my duty to worry about you when something is obviously bothering you, then who's is it?"

Sombra's eyes narrowed in a way that made him look dangerous, like a wounded animal that had been backed into a corner. "No one's," he shot back stubbornly.

"Oh, come on! Haven't you ever confided in anyone before?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I've never had anyone that I cared to confide in!" the king bristled. "Are you done with this interrogation?"

Fluttershy was startled, but she refused to fold. He was trying to intimidate her into backing down from the subject, she knew. She wasn't going to let it work. "Sombra!" she said in a voice that was spiced with defiance, yet sweetened with concern. It was the first time she could ever recall addressing him by his actual name. The look he gave her was that of surprise, then irritation, then remorse. 

He took a moment to collect himself and said, "I didn't mean to raise my voice to you. Forgive me - that was not chivalrously done."  He stared again into the fire. "It was a nightmare - about something that happened a long time ago. In order to understand it, you would need to know more about me."

"Well, I'm sure if you talk to someone about it, it might make you feel better." Carefully, she slid her hoof across the floor to meet with his. He looked at her, then looked down at her hoof, as if the gesture was utterly alien to him. "Someone, like, an attentive queen, perhaps?"

The king reclaimed his hoof from her and cautioned, "It's not a story you will enjoy hearing, nor is it a story that I would enjoy telling."     

Fluttershy smiled as sincerely as she could and said, "I would hear it all the same, my king."

Sombra huffed a reluctant sigh before he removed the bottle of their marriage wine from the polished wooden mantle.  He took several generous pulls from it before setting it back down, then stared forlornly into the fire. The flames seemed to center him, as if focusing on them soothed his consciousness into a purgatorial state where emotions didn't exist. The fire roared dully upon the rack. The wind outside was picking up. Somewhere off in the distance a pack of wolves were howling. The ambiance created a haunting atmosphere that was every bit as somber as the king's mood. "Matricide," he finally began.  "A crime for which my father could never forgive me."

Fluttershy's eyes widened in horror. "You killed your own mother?"

"I would like to say that irony was to blame. All my mother had done for me at that point was give me the gift of life, and as she was doing that, I snuffed hers out."

"So, your mother - she died while giving birth to you?" Fluttershy almost felt evil for being relieved by the explanation. It was still sad, but her husband could hardly be named a murderer for that. "That's not matricide, my king," she attempted. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother, but that was something you couldn't have had any control over." 

"My father did not see it that way, unfortunately. The birth was destined to go badly. The bulge in my mother's belly was so large that it had been anticipated she was carrying triplets. However, the expectations had turned out to be folly." His eyes narrowed. "She was carrying me. A creature twice the size of any infant, with a pair of hellish red eyes that inspired a bitter disgust and detestation from my father. There was speculation among everyone in the Chrystal Castle as to what I was. The most popular theory, ridiculous as it was, was that I was an incubus that had resulted from an illicit union between my mother and some creature of another world. To this day it remains unclear as to what I truly am, but that didn't stop my father from deciding upon a label for me. Monster, is what I was to be called. Or, Sombra, as the dialect had pronounced it at the time. It was a name I was given so that I would never forget my place, and always remember what I was. It served as a constant reminder of how much my father hated me every time I heard it."

Ethey's words came echoing back into Fluttershy's mind. Just look at Sombra. Do you think he's ever been treated normal in his life? Fluttershy, aghast, covered her mouth with a hoof. "I'm sorry to hear that. I-I really am."

Sombra looked at her. "Save your tears, my queen. I desire not nor deserve your sympathy."

Fluttershy closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. Please, continue."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Sombra cautioned. "I've merely told you about a minor shortcoming that I was forced to tolerate. I can already tell that your heart is too soft for a tale such as this." 

Fluttershy had managed to win his trust it getting him to confide in her. She couldn't turn back now. "Please, my king, I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want to know."

"Very well." Sombra was beginning to reach for the bottle atop the mantle again, but he thought better of it and left it where it was. "As I grew," he continued, "so did my father's hatred for me. I was no mere boy to him. I was the monstrous hell spawn that killed his beloved queen. I was beaten severely on a near daily basis. To him, every indiscretion I had committed, real or imagined, was viewed as a provocation. Every time a harvest went bad, every time someone in the castle had a nightmare or fell ill, I was to blame."

"But how could you possibly be blamed for things like that?" Fluttershy interjected in outrage.

"You forget, I was the supposed bastard demon child. I was the bringer of misfortune, the monster whom, with his dark arts, sought to sew misfortune and discord." His expression intensified into a glare that made his glowing eyes radiate a heat that rivaled that of the fire before him. The very air around them began to blur red with tendrils of hot air. "I can recall one night when my father got drunk. It was the eve of my ninth birthday, which he had taken to view as yet another anniversary of his queen's murder at my hooves. I remember being roused from a sound sleep by an iron grip that had ripped the blankets off of me and seized me by my mane. I was terrified and confused at first, until I realized it was my father who was dragging me from my chamber. I pleaded for an explanation as to what I had done, but he didn't reply. 

"Down the long hall and up three flights of stairs he dragged me by my hair, furious and stinking of wine. He took me to the shrine he had erected for my mother after her passing, and he threw me before her portrait. I know not what cruel instrument he used to bludgeon me with, but it was blunt enough to inflict deep contusions, yet thin enough to rip skin. He struck me, over and over again on my back and hindquarters as he screamed in a drunken rage 'Give her back, you little demon. Give her back to me.' When he finally relented, he just left me there bloody and weeping. After a few hours, I finally found the strength to crawl back to my chamber, where I bolted and barricaded the door behind me should my father decide to return. I can't remember a time in my life when I was so afraid. I dared not leave my room for three whole days after the ordeal, when the pain of hunger became too great to ignore."

Fluttershy's vision distorted with a film of tears. As much as she had prepared herself for what her king was telling her, she had failed to bolster herself efficiently. "No one came to help you?" she said, trying not to let a sob or whimper obstruct her articulations.

"Neigh. Any who may have felt even the slightest bit of empathy for me was too afraid of my father's wrath to approach. And it was because my wounds went untreated that my rent flesh had began to fester, and for a fortnight I knew pain and sickness beyond mortal reckoning. I should have died. It was probably what my father wanted. Alas, I managed to do what I did best: I disappointed him. I survived. And in doing so, I had only seemed to further reinforce everyone's theory that I was a monster." 

Fluttershy wiped a tear from her eye. "A-are you immortal?" she heard herself ask. The question hardly seemed appropriate, but she had to know.

"No," Sombra replied, "I am not. My body has always been resilient on a near supernatural scale, but I can age, and, as far as I know, I can die, just like anyone else. The only reason that I have managed to stay alive these passed thousand years was because my body was preserved in a tomb of ice."

Fluttershy thought for a moment and said, "But, in the feasting hall, just this morning, you said something about roaming the land hungry and unable to rest."

"I was still able to magically project myself. It was all that I could to keep myself from going mad in that tomb."

That made sense, Fluttershy realized, when she thought back to the time when she and her friends had witnessed Sombra roaming the frozen north as a howling phantom, biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to seize the crystal heart so that he could be made whole again.   

"It was only a matter of time before my father's fear and hatred of me would force him to take more drastic actions," the king continued. "One fateful day, I had returned to my bedchamber from a long day of studying in the library. I was fascinated with magic when I was a child. I had a natural aptitude for it, and the other children who lived in the castle were explicitly instructed by their parents to never associate with me, so the library was where I spent the majority of my time. I had noticed upon my return that my chamber was bare of all my belongings, and my father was standing in the center of the room, as if he had been waiting for me.  

'What is the meaning of this, father?' I asked him. 'Little prince,' he said to me, 'if you hope to one day be king, you must first pass a test.' This test, my father had informed me, was a trial of solitude. I was to live in the very house in which me now stand, which he had purchased for me, and that I would receive a message to come back home when he had deemed it so that I had spent enough time in seclusion. I admit, I was beside myself with excitement. I had taken it as a sign that my father, who claimed he was merely grooming me to be his heir, might have actually had an ounce of love for me in his heart. He convinced me that it was important for every king to learn what it is to survive on his own before taking the throne. He went on about the lessons I would learn and the knowledge I would gain in fending for myself. Being the ignorant child I was, I eagerly accepted the challenge. My father's love was all I had ever wanted, and it seemed to me at the time that succeeding in this test, this trial of kings, would be the best way to obtain it. How proud I would make him."

"How old were you when this happened?" Fluttershy had to know.

Sombra rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully."I was ten, give or take a few moons."

"Ten?" Fluttershy echoed, incredulous. "Who sends a ten year old to a place like this to live all on their own?"

"My father," Sombra replied in a cold, emotionally distant way. The deeper he got into his story, the further away his expression seemed to grow. "I spent the years up here studying—

"Years!?" Fluttershy blurted. "You were up here - all alone - for years?"   

Sombra looked at her with his emotionless eyes until she felt so uncomfortable she began to fidget.

"I spent the years up here studying the arcane arts, improving myself in any way I could, desperate to be able to impress my father upon my return. I honed my skills and tested my mettle in anyway I could. I fought off saber cats and ice wargs and giant boars and any other manner of wild beast that wandered into my domain. I survived on what local flora I could forage. When boredom threatened to drive me mad, I decided to improve upon this house, for it was merely a cottage with nothing inside but a hearth and a wooden table when I had first arrived. I passed the days by teaching myself an assortment of new skills through trial and error. I dug deep into the ground in search of minerals, and learned how to make my own adhesive utilizing resources such as mud and limestone, with which I would use as mortar to build the walls that now surround us. I would make my own tools and chop my own firewood. I learned that I could heat blast sand to make glass for windows. When my sense of creativity expanded, I had taken to crafting my own furniture from the lumber I harvested. I would find large boulders in the quarries I had dug, and I would melt them down and reshape them into dragons and gargoyles - the very ones that you have seen in the garden." 

The king's expression seemed to soften into a sad yet abashed smile. "I had become so lonely at one point, I made statues of ponies out of some of the ore I had found. I gave them names, and I spoke to them as if they were real. In a way, I preferred them over the ponies back home. I was always received by others with disdain back at the Crystal Empire, but these subjects I had made, in my desperate loneliness, or perhaps madness, I could hear them showering me with love and praise." Fluttershy could have sworn she saw a glistening in the king's eye at that moment. He made a halfhearted attempt to disguise his sudden surge of emotion with a chuckle. "I... I was such a child back then." 

The queen scooted herself closer to him so that she could take his arm and rest her head against his shoulder. Silently, and with a heaviness in her chest, she let her tears fall freely, watching as the fire crackled away.   

"And so," he continued, after a long intermission of heart-rending silence, "the years went on. One year... Two years... Five years... Eight years... Ten years... I was no longer a boy. I was a stallion grown. My little hovel had become a manse. My magical capabilities had flourished to a level that was unprecedented. Any beast or bandit in the area, who would have once looked upon the ostentatiousness of my house and salivated at the temptation of plunder, had cultivated a healthy fear of me within their hearts. They didn't know who or what I was, but they knew to stay away. They were well aware of the many before them who had attempted to raid me for the things I had worked so hard to create. Such efforts, no matter how well equipped, or how large the group, earned the poor dregs nothing but an opportunity to have their heads decorate my outer gate, which served as an effective warning for any who may have been foolish enough to repeat their mistake. 

Fluttershy could feel her stomach churning. "It... Must have been hard. I can't imagine what it would feel like to take a life."

"Killing wasn't easy for me at first. Even though they were bandits, and I was only doing what I had to in order to survive, it weighed heavily on my conscience. I wasn't able to sleep. I would lay awake at night, and I could swear I was hearing the voices of those I had slain. I would close my eyes, and I would see theirs, open, lifeless, staring up at the sky as the gelid snow beneath their bodies drank in their blood like wine. I will admit that it got easier over time. I had become numb to it. There was a time when I would allow my would-be marauders to retreat when they knew they had been defeated, but in doing so, I was only allowing them to regroup so they could return and muster an even greater force against me.

"So I killed. I killed, and I killed, and I killed, until the act became nothing more to me but a bothersome chore. Every once in a while, I would let one or two escape so that I could follow them back to their keeps, where I would route the naves out at their source. When the deed was done, I would free any slave or captive I could find. After distributing the bandit's plunder to them, I would take my own share back to my homestead, where it accumulated into a massive fortune over time." Sombra's expression became bitter. "I had planned on making it a gift to my father upon my return..."

Fluttershy tilted her head, bemused by the sudden spite in his tone.

"The morning had finally come when the sky turned black," the king said, before she could think of a way to placate him. "A beast from out of my darkest nightmares swooped down from the sky, bellowing flames, snapping his jaws, roaring so fiercely the very ground trembled beneath me. The wind produced from his black, flailing wings were like the icy gales of a snow storm. His red eyes were fixed on me, and the look of them expressed well the beast's intentions. No words were exchanged. There was no need. There was no option for quarter or parlay. It was kill or be killed."

"A dragon," Fluttershy gasped. She looked back to where her Dragonbone crown sat upon a small table near the bed. Even in the dark it shined and glinted in the glory of its beautiful, rippling luster. She could now draw a guess as to where it came from. "Why would a dragon just randomly attack you? Did it want the plunder you had been saving?"

"That was not the intended reason behind its assault, but I have no doubt that he would have taken it, if he succeeded in killing me. I successfully defended myself against the beast in a battle that went on until sunset. With a precise spear of focused arcana, I pierced its heart as it was hurling bombs of flame on me from above. It flailed helplessly through the air until it landed hard on its belly with an impact that shook the ground. As it was opening its mouth in one final attempt to cook me where I stood, I sallied forth and struck its jaw so hard that its mouth snapped shut just before it was able to project its wave of searing flames toward me. Its eyes burst into flaming orbs in its skull, and pillars of fire bellowed from its ears and nostrils. The dragon had cooked itself from the inside with its own flames. It didn't even have enough time to realize its mistake. There was only the implosion, then it collapsed, dead, with black smoke seeping from its every orifice. I was exhausted, but I ultimately emerged the victor." 

Fluttershy was gawking at him in disbelief. "And, the reason for its attack?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Sombra said. "It was there to kill me."

"But, why? How did you know?"

Sombra's eyes went to the wine bottle on the mantle. "That is the part that will be difficult to tell."

"Well, I'm here, and I'm listening," Fluttershy insisted. "You've gone this far. Things couldn't have possibly gotten any worse—

"It got worse," said Sombra dryly, cutting her off as he grasped the wine bottle. Instead of drinking directly from it, as he previously had, he filled two glasses with the remainder of the receptacle's contents. They were the same ornate chalices from the night before - the glasses they had used to toast their marriage. Sombra presented one of them to Fluttershy, and she accepted it. In one motion he shotgunned the wine, then placed the crystal back on the mantle. 

Fluttershy looked down at her glass before offering it to him. "Here," she said. "If this is the last of the wine, I'd like for you to have it, if it will help."

"No," Sombra refused. "I poured that for you, little dove. You look like you could use a little 'help' yourself."

Fluttershy observed her glazed eyes in the reflection of the wine and knew that it wasn't a lie. She tipped the rim of the glass to her lips and drank. The fluid was every bit as bitter and sour as her husband's past. The sweet that she had had with her dinner that night would have been so much more preferable. The resulting warmth in her chest and buzz in her head, however, was a welcome sensation, like a painkiller of sorts.   

Sombra fed the fire a fresh bundle of dried sticks and said, "I warned you that this story would be unpleasant."

"But I'm glad you're telling it to me," replied Fluttershy, placing her cup on top of the mantle next to her husband's. She attempted to smile as she looked back at him. "It truth, I feel privileged to learn so much about you. You must be strong to have been able to come out of all this as unscathed as you are."

"Unscathed," Sombra echoed emotionlessly, as he was pushing the sticks around with a black iron rod in order to allow the fire to breathe. "Is that what I am?" Fluttershy could feel the heat on her face as the fire grew larger. Her husband was anything but unscathed, it was obvious for her to see. He was apparently a stallion who would not allow himself to be soothed with honeyed lies. She watched him hang the iron rod on the hook from where he acquired it. 

"I'm ready whenever you are," Fluttershy said, doing poorly to hide her anticipation. Part of her was fearful that he would retain the rest of his tale from her, as the way he was stalling for time made him seem rather reluctant to continue. 

Sombra kneaded at the plush rug sprawled before the fireplace. He lowered himself, then laid in that dignified-looking way he did, with one foreleg crossed over the other. Fluttershy decided to lay next to him. The king's throat emanated with a pleased hum as she relaxed her head on his shoulder, and they watched the fire, until he'd be ready to speak again.

"I had killed a dragon, on my own, armed with nothing but the skills I had honed for the past decade as my weapon. feats such as this were the kinds of things bards and storytellers the world over would have eagerly given their very souls to witness. My father would have to be ready to take me back. I longed so desperately to return home. Many times I had considered returning without his leave, but I was afraid that in doing so I would fail his trial. But, I had brought justice down upon countless thieves and murderers, I had freed slaves, I had killed a dragon, and the snowberry floating in my wine was that I had accrued an entire treasury's worth booty that would have swelled the Crystal Empire's wealth and prosperity to unfathomable proportions."

The king hung his head, his thick black hair closing over his face like a dark curtain. "My father, after hearing of my deeds, he would have to treat me with the love and respect I worked so hard to obtain. I fantasized of how he would greet me at his table each night, and he would proudly regale to all his visiting diplomats and dignitaries the tale of all the trials I had endured. He would raise his cup to me and say 'All hail the dragon slayer, bringer of fortune, liberator of the subjugated and the forsaken, my son and the future king.'" 

Sombra, brooding, pushed his hair out of his face. "I took a whole week to rest and heal from the battle. When I felt that I was strong enough to brave the frozen pass, I had packed a small chest with coins, and collected a scale from the dragon I slew as proof of my deeds. A dragon's bones and scales are valuable; their bodies are a treasure in of themselves. I decided to bury its remains. I would unearth them when I returned with a team of wagon pullers to claim the rest of my loot.

"I trudged through the pass with the eyes of would-be predators peering out at me from between the bushes and trees. When I was a child, such creatures would not have thought twice to attack, but puberty had granted me quite the imposing figure. All I would have to do was simply glare at them to send them skittering off. As for the raiders, it was true that the box of coins lashed to my back was a tempting incentive, but they had come to know me well over the years; keeping their lives was far more a priority to them than some trifling box filled with shiny metal.

After a two day slog through skirling winds and treacherous terrain, I had finally arrived at the Crystal Empire. I was finally home after ten years. It had felt like an eternity. The bustling populace turned pale as I passed them by. Those who did not instantly change direction, or direct themselves to the nearest corner or alley would freeze where they stood and blanch. It was not a flattering reception, but I paid them no attention. When I finally came upon the front gates of the Crystal Castle, the guard paled. 'You,' one of them said to me. That was all he said. The other more eloquent guard gawked and stammered, 'Dear Celestia!' 

"'Prince Sombra, actually. Good guess, though,' I had said. My attempt at humor was lost on them. The two guards shot each other the strangest look before they scrambled for the leaver. The way I was received by the castle staff did not differ much from that of the small folk in the city: Standing guards clapped open their visors to stare at me. Stewards and stewardesses dropped trays before retreating in the opposite direction. A nearby Celestial priest dropped to his knees and began to pray in tongues. Was I truly such a horror to behold?

"I had eventually made my way to the throne room. Through rows of silent guards and terrified servants I approached the dais, where upon my father was seated. My father and I both needed a few moments to register what we were looking at. Beside his throne was his queen's throne, upon which sat a mare... A young mare, not much older that I, beautiful with her slender figure, her purple sparkling eyes, and flaxen hair shimmering like platinum. It wasn't her I was focused on so much as the boy who stood between them. "He too was young, with blonde hair, high cheekbones, a glorious crystal coat. He was handsome and tall. Tall, but not freakishly so, as I was when I was his age. 

"My father shot up from his throne, quick as a whip and taught as a bowstring. His eyes were the widest I had ever seen. 'You. No, it can't be. You're dead,' he said. I puzzled over his words, puzzled over the child and the mare by his side, puzzled over every one's terrified reaction upon seeing me. 'What happened to the dragon?' my father let slip in his dismay. 'The dragon?' I said to him. I didn't understand how he could have known about that before I had the chance to tell him. All I could think to offer him at that confusing moment was the scale. I placed it on the ground as evidence and said, 'I killed him.'  

"The king muttered a curse, or perhaps it was a prayer. I wasn't sure. There was a profound silence that fell over the throne room. My father finally pointed at me and screamed that I was some sort of abomination come back from the grave. I was astonished by the accusation. He then ordered his guards to seize me, and I was dragged away to the deepest dungeon below the castle. I was in such shock that I didn't even resist as I was being subdued. How could I? Beasts and bandits were one thing, but these were members of my father's royal guard.

"I was alone in the dungeon, but not for very long. My father and that boy that was standing near him in the throne room appeared in front of my cell. I looked at the colt, and realized how much he looked like father. He had his eyes, his hair, and he even had that same bored look of silent contempt on his face. He couldn't have been a day over ten years old. Upon these realizations, I had figured out everything, even before my father could relay a word to me, I knew the truth.

"'I never expected you would survive up there,' my father said to me. 'I had agents checking on you from time to time, and in truth, I was stunned to realize you hadn't perished within a fortnight. I had taken to sending envoys to your location in order to hire all sorts of unsavory louts to put you down.' I remember the way his expression soured when he added, 'It is apparent that they had all failed me.'

"My father was merely venting his frustrations at that point. He must have known that I had already figured out everything. A dullard could have seen it. He never intended for me to succeed him. Over the years he had sent scores upon scores of sellswords and cutthroats to their demise by issuing the order for my life. He hadn't even waited to receive the news of my death to start a new family. He had taken a new mare, or should I say girl, as his queen - who had given him the handsome son he had always wanted. The commissioning of the dragon was a desperate move on his part, for he had allowed everyone in the Crystal Empire to believe I had been dead for the past ten years. He had grown fearful that I would one day return to the Empire to bring to light his deceit.

"'So, my king,' I had said to him. 'What happens now? Will you have me executed?' He looked at me with those calculating eyes of his and informed me that he could not execute what was already dead. He had accused me of being an abomination from beyond the grave. He would no doubt stick to that lie. It was a difficult lie to swallow, granted, but that bastard father of mine had a way with words. Everyone in the empire already believed I was a demon; convincing everyone that I was some manner of ghoul wouldn't have been that much more of a stretch.    

"Still - I wasn't sure what he meant by what he had said, until I realized that twisted little shit he called his son had a crossbow slung at his back. He hefted it, loaded it, and was levering the string back. The boy smiled and said, 'I never killed a demon before, father. Do you think I'll get the title 'Demon Slayer' added to my name?' I rushed the bars and yelled, 'Father, how can you do this to me? I'm your son!' And those were the last words I uttered before I felt the punch of the bolt embedding itself in my chest. The sadistic little bastard who shot me laughed a delighted little laugh. It was unsettling how innocent and playful it sounded, as I fell back and hit the ground gasping.   

"I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. My chest throbbed with unimaginable pain. I tried to speak, but 'Father' was the only word that would come. The king looked at me one last time before he and his son left me there to bleed out." Sombra's voice became labored with a husky rasp. During his entire story, he had done everything he could to keep his emotions at bay, but now it seemed as if they were starting to break through. "My father's parting words to me cut me deeper than anything ever had before. Deeper than even the shaft protruding from my chest. He looked down on me with the coldest eyes I had ever seen, and he said to me, 'Little prince, you will never be king, and you are no son of mine.' And they left me there to die."	 


A fresh stream of tears began to fall from Fluttershy's eyes. She wiped them away, but they were instantly replaced with a fresh barrage. "Your father was the real monster."

"No, he was not," Sombra replied. "I was. The real beast had yet to show itself. My father's words struck something within me. I felt something in my mind snap. Vivid images from my life played out before my eyes as my life's blood puddled under me. Every beating I had endured, every callus eye that looked on me in scorn, every grueling test to my sanity I had faced in the peninsula, everything that had occurred up until then. I went mad. I began to laugh and weep at the same time - until my rage escalated in the form of a roar that shook the walls around me. I ripped the bolt from my chest and watched the red fluid spill out. T'was the desire for revenge and sheer will to survive that had saved me that night. I looked down at the blood that had puddled on the floor and called it back to my body. It seeped along the dungeon floor, coiled up my legs, and flowed back into my chest from whence it had came. I then approached the prison bars and parted them aside like a cloth curtain.

"A startled guard opened the dungeon door to check on me. His mistake. He should have ran the moment the walls started shaking. The guard yelled for help as he attempted to shut the door on me, but I blasted it off its hinges, sending the guard's carcass careening into the darkness of the hallway. More guards came, and more guards died. 'Little brother,' I called down the hall. 'I would like a word with you concerning your succession.' 

"I eventually found the twisted little shit cowering in his bedchamber. I figured my old quarters would be turned over to him. He aimed his crossbow at me as I entered through the door and yelled for me to stay away from him. The crossbow thrummed, and I stopped the bolt just before it could hit me. 'I believe this belongs to you,' I said to him. Just as he had turned to run, I projected the bolt forward at such a force it shot through his back and burst out from his chest, spraying the walls and floor with a wet red mist. The prince was now dead. I was once again my father's only living successor.   

"I tracked my father down to the throne room, killing any who challenged me and sparing those who did not along the way. Slaughtering noncombatants hardly seemed a kingly a gesture. The coward was surrounded by his guard. He ordered them to kill me. They came at me in force, and were immediately hurled back with one simple concussive blast of energy. He shouted for me to stand down, as if I would somehow be inclined at that point to obey him. 'What are you?' came his last words as I closed in on him. 'What am I?' I echoed. It was such a strange question. He honestly didn't know by that point? I acquired a dagger a guard had dropped in the skirmish, and I looked him dead in the eye as I thrust it as deep as I could into his belly. 'I am the king, and I sentence you to die,' was my reply. I wasn't sure why he looked at me the way he did as his life left him. It was the strangest look. Was it regret that he did not dash my skull against the stone floor when I was a babe? Was he begging me for forgiveness, or was he simply afraid and aware that he was dying? I'll never know, I suppose."

Fluttershy was looking at her king in horror. It was hard to justify the things that he had done, yet, given the situation, it was difficult to judge him for them.

"And now you see why I hesitated to tell you all this, my queen. I do not want you to be afraid of me, but I don't blame you if you are." 

"And your nightmare?" Fluttershy inquired.

"Ten years my rule lasted. Ten years of enacting some ill conceived retribution upon those who I had perceived in my madness as the source of all my torment. I was mad. I see that now. What hurts the most is that, in the end, I proved everyone who had called me a demon right. I could have used my power to show them how wrong they were, but instead, I killed, I slaved, I destroyed. I brought the citizens of the Crystal Empire to their knees, and I crushed any who dared defy me. I committed just about every atrocity you can think of. In my nightmare, it was like it was all happening again. I could see myself standing atop a pedestal as I lashed my whip upon the backs of the toiling masses below. I don't want that to happen again. But, every once in while, an ugly memory works its way to the surface. I see the face of my father. I feel that bolt in my chest. And I hear those words he said to me. And it threatens to drive me mad all over again." To Fluttershy's surprise, the king lowered his head. His dark hair concealed his face. He made not a sound, but she knew that on the inside he was crying.   

Fluttershy pitied the broken stallion before her, this king who's guilt had been secretly tearing him apart on the inside all this time. There was a question that was echoing in her mind now. Was it happenstance that this king, who was so afraid of the monster inside himself, chose her, the element of kindness, to be his queen? Was it an attraction brought on by two opposite forces? Was it a coincidence, or did he take her with hope in his heart that she could somehow heal his wounds and tame the evil inside him? She pondered upon this only to realize that the reason no longer mattered to her. He was capable of guilt, he was capable of sorrow, and subjects such as kindness were not entirely lost on him. Regardless of whatever his intentions may or may not have been, if she was the one who could be there to draw the kinder side out of him, then so be it. That was precisely what she intended to do.    

Fluttershy, with tears in her eyes, held him as she hummed a lullaby. It was a tune that her mother had taught her when she was a filly, which she had taken to use to calm her animals back home when they were hurt or scared. When he finally allowed her to lead him to the bed, she straddled his back and worked her hooves as deep as she could between his muscles. He was so large, and his fur was course and thick. It was like massaging a bear. "No more nightmares, okay?" she whispered to him as his eyes were beginning to close.

"Why are you doing this?" he was saying as he was drifting away. "I told you, I don't want your sympathy. You think me weak becau—

"I told you I could make you feel better, didn't I?" Fluttershy said sweetly. "And do you? Do you feel better, my king?"

There was a pause before Sombra finally said, "I do," and his eyes finally closed, and his breathing became deep and slow with a relaxed rhythm.