//------------------------------//
// Evil 
// Story: To Bring Light to Eternal Darkness 
// by scifipony 
//------------------------------//

"You are a stupid and stubborn filly, and will make a difficult sister.  I should let you get yourself killed."

I had been locked in a staring match with the malevolent moon.  It had erased the misery of my present, at least.  I blinked and looked as the door latched, and, as my eyes adjusted, I saw the middle-aged mare who'd spoken.  Her fur was the golden color of ripe wheat; she had a mane and horn the color of blood.  In her fine black mares-cloak, I could easily guess this was Umbra's solution to guard against me performing magic.

His wife.

"Nice to meet you, too, Gilt."

She levitated a scroll out in her emerald-color magic, unrolling it and passing me a quill in the vicinity of my mouth.  "I do not desire another slave; our household cannot afford the price.  Sign this marriage contract and I will take you home."

"I will not marry Umbra."

"I keep a clean and proper stable, despite his ambitions."

"And what about mine?" I spat back.

"Beyond shared wealth and foals?"  She sighed and let the scroll roll itself back up with a thwack.  "I am fine with Sol Umbra not getting everything he wants.  Go ahead, get yourself killed.  But do not use magic."

She illuminated the cell with a greenish light and I held her gaze until I finally had to look away.  She had that matriarch-thing down; it probably had something to do with raising foals and dealing with a problem husband.  I said sheepishly, "Um.  Nopony has let me use the privy—"

"What?"  Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at a large round river stone in the corner.  "Nopony explained how...?  Stallions!"

She explained the... she called it a "facility" with an air of dignity I sensed was part of her fiber, not an affectation.  The smooth rock snapped out of its grooves and grated against the sandstone floor as she pushed it aside before she turned away so I could use the foul-smelling thing.   It occurred to me that somepony had to have decided to explain how it worked to her, too.  Was this what a husband talked about when he returned home from work?

When Umbra and the white-faced palomino chief propoli showed up hours later, I immediately jumped up and complained how I'd been attacked and entrapped.

The old pony would have none of it.  When I demanded to talk to the town elders, he shouted me down and told me to act like a proper mare, shoving me against the wall with his magic when his voice didn't cow me.

He opened a tome and looked at Umbra.

Umbra looked at Gilt who shook her head.

Umbra's dark gray lips thinned in anger.  With a faint snort, the propoli straightened his robes with his magic and read the charges into the town register.

I gasped.  "I did not consort—!"

The head propoli shoved me into the wall with a bang, knocking my breath away.  He growled, "Captured wearing only your cutie mark."

"Not true!"

"Bearing ill-gotten earnings—"

"Gifts!"

His quill scratched the paper loudly.  "Admitted," he growled.

I stared in shock as Umbra read the final charges in.

The old propoli shut the book with a bang.  He glared at me with dark blue eyes.  "You, Sunny Daze, are evil."

"Evil?  Evil?  He entrapped me!  Trying to force me to marry him!"  I pointed at Gilt.  "She has a contract—"

I felt a magic slap across the muzzle.

The crimson meant it had been Umbra.  I turned to Gilt and said, "And he entrapped you the same way!"

It's hard to see light-color ponies turn pale because their skin color matches the fur on their face.  In Gilt's case, her normally red skin under her gold fur turned her face ashen.  She galloped from the cell in an impending storm of tears, intentionally knocking Umbra into a wall.

"Evil," the old propoli asserted as Umbra sped after his wife.  "And you deny all of it?"

"I do!"

He stepped back through the doorway.  "You have until dawn a'clock or sunrise to compose yourself, whichever comes first."  He slammed the door shut.

I rushed to the door, shouting, "For what?"

It struck me.  What did they do with criminals who refused to admit their crimes?  You had to admit your crimes to be granted the mercy of becoming a slave.

That meant—

I felt punched in the stomach and began to retch.