Sweetie blinked several times to clear her eyes of the brilliant afterimages that the dramatic change in lighting brought. After the dim, almost nonexistent lighting of the corridor, the room was like a halogen flare. As her eyes adjusted, she began to see blurry shapes swirling into view. The ones lining the walls were guards, of course, or suits of armor. The dim, geometric shapes higher up were probably windows or tapestries. The large blob in the center? Sweetie squinted. A table?
She sniffed lightly, and her nose was filled with the scent of roasted potatoes and sweet jellies, fresh bread and cut hay. “At last,” a gravelly voice rumbled. “My guests. Please, take a seat.”
As Sweetie’s eyes adjusted to the brilliant light, the speaker slowly faded into view. The first thing she noticed was his sheer size. He was easily ten centimeters taller than Big Macintosh, and though he was less obviously muscular, Sweetie had no doubt that this stallion could pick her up and throw her around like a rag doll. His coat was a grey a few shades lighter than charcoal, his mane as black and smooth as tar lying slicked back. His eyes were a deep violet, and they sparkled with sharp intelligence and cruel wit. He wore a cape of dark red velvet, lined with a fur trim that was as brilliant white as the room itself, and hung around with the deepest blood-red gemstone that she had ever seen. What really drew the mare’s attention, however, was his horn. It was as red as a hot iron. It looked as though it would charcoalize anything which touched it, and the color of his coat only added to that effect.
Sombra smiled genially, or as genially as anything with that many sharp teeth could, and waved a hoof. Two figures peeled away from the walls and trotted to the table to pull out a pair of chairs. So they were guards, Sweetie thought distantly. It was the only way she could think. It felt like her mind and body were connected only by kite string, leaving the two separated by dozens of meters. She didn’t even notice that she was moving forwards until she felt the guard push her chair in toward the table. Across from her, she saw that the Doctor looked equally befuddled and not slightly alarmed. “You are his highness, I presume?” the Time Lord asked, but there was little drive behind it.
“Mm, quite,” the dark horse said mildly, picking up a slice of bread and slathering it liberally with jelly. “I am Sombra, and it is my pleasure to host you both. But I fear that the two of you have the advantage of me! Please, tell me, who is it that I have the fortune of entertaining this evening?”
“I’m… Sweetie Belle,” the mare said, blinking herself awake. “This is the Doctor.”
Sombra’s brow rose. “A physician! Truly, a rarity in this day and age. At least, around here.”
“Oh, no, I’m not that kind of Doctor…”
Sombra chuckled. “Oh no? Perhaps that’s for the best. You see, I had them all killed about eight months ago.”
The Doctor froze, and Sweetie choked on the grapes that she had grabbed from the fruit bowl. Sombra glanced over the table before levitating a bottle of wine over to his goblet. “I do beg your pardon, would either of you care for a drink?”
“Wh-why would you kill the doctors?” Sweetie asked, voice shaking. For just a moment, she had forgotten that she was speaking to the scourge of the Crystal Empire, the ghastly ghoulish nemesis of Equestria. He was too charming, too polite, too… calm.
Sombra swirled a mouthful of wine around in his mouth thoughtfully. He swallowed and let out a satisfied breath. “In Topaz Square, there was an outbreak of violet fever. The medicos all rushed to the area in an attempt to cure it, but they failed. The fever only grew worse. From there, the city drew the only logical conclusion.”
The Doctor stared in horrified fascination. “Which was what?”
“That doctors cause violet fever.” Sombra smiled faintly and lifted his goblet to his lips, taking a long swig. “Mm. Are you sure that neither of you would care for a drink? It is actually wine, I promise, not blood.”
“I don’t drink, and she’s underage,” the Doctor said flatly.
“Pity. A fine vintage, really. Ah, well, more for me.” He topped off his glass as though the conversation they were having was of no more import than talking about the weather.
“Now,” said Sombra, setting down his glass. “I suspect that you likely are wondering why I brought you here. The vicious King Sombra, saving tired travellers? Not very probable. But then, neither is the idea of tired travelers seeking refuge in this city. I admit to being rather curious about your presence here, and even moreso about your aid in our defense against the Equestrian forces. Tell me how you came to be here.”
“We came in the TARDIS,” Sweetie began, before she could clamp her mouth shut.
Sombra furrowed his brow. “TARDIS?”
“The name of our conveyance,” the Doctor said smoothly. “A travelling box. It broke down just a few miles outside of the city. It requires a small quartz crystal to repair.”
The dark grey stallion nodded, eyes sharp and thoughtful. “And of course, as this is the Crystal Empire… Yes, quite logical, quite rational. I see no reason not to allow you a small piece of quartz.”
The Doctor blinked, surprised. “Really? I mean, it must be a very particular shape and fine quality…”
The king shrugged. “I shall have my chief jeweler come to speak with you in an hour or so.”
“Well, that’s… that’s very good of you,” the Doctor said cautiously.
“Well, in the Crystal Empire, we pride ourselves on our hospitality,” Sombra said mildly. “Of course, if you would be willing to do a small favor in return…”
“Sure,” said Sweetie, before she could stop herself. She promptly snapped her mouth shut, her eyes wide. The Doctor stared at her, incredulous, and Sombra smiled in a way that could only be described as serpentine.
“I have always wished to travel,” he said calmly. “However, the head that wears the crown is often too heavy to move. Tell me of your home, Equestrians, and you will have your quartz.”
Sweetie breathed out. “Oh, okay, sure. Um, we come from Ponyville. It's a small town in the country, near the Everfree Forest—”
“Not far from your capital, correct?” Sombra asked, his eyes as sharp and clear as any crystal in his city had ever been.
“Um… not very far, I guess. It’s only about forty miles.”
“Interesting, interesting,” Sombra murmured, repeating something which was not even worth saying even once, in the tried and true habit of politicians everywhere. “And what—”
He broke off suddenly as the doors swung open and a guard trotted in. “Yes?”
Silently, the guard removed a note from his saddlebags and hoofed it over to the tyrant. Sombra’s eyes darkened as he skimmed the page. “I see. Please excuse me, there is an urgent matter which I must attend to immediately. Eat anything that you wish. Once you have finished, one of the guards will escort you to your rooms. I must apologize for the cramped conditions of your previous quarters, but none of the spare rooms had been made up.”
“Of course,” the Doctor said, nodding. “Quite alright.”
Sombra smiled, flashing a set of teeth that were just a little too sharp to be equine, and rose from the table. “I look forward to hearing of your travels on the morrow. For now, good night, and I wish you pleasant dreams.” He turned abruptly and trotted out through the doors on the opposite side of the room.
The Doctor and Sweetie Belle stared after him. “Well,” said Sweetie, after a long few moments had passed. “He’s not what I was expecting.”
“No,” the Doctor agreed. “Less of the ‘Bleh-blehbleh, Crysssstalsss…. Slavesss….’ An unexpected twist in history, wouldn’t you agree?”
“...Yeah. Everypony always said that the crystal ponies hated Sombra, or he treated them like slaves. Doesn’t look that way to me.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” the Doctor said grimly. “Remember what I said about crystals manipulating emotion? How are you feeling right now? How have you been feeling ever since you came into this room?”
“Uh… kinda tired?” Sweetie tried. “Um, listless, I guess. Everything just seems kind of… bleh.”
“And we’ve both started to more or less follow his every command,” the Doctor said quietly. “The crystal in here in resonating some kind of… submissiveness, some feeling of powerlessness and weariness.”
Sweetie glanced around. The guards lining the walls stared ahead with dead eyes, void of emotion, void of thought, void of energy. The unicorn shuddered.
The Doctor apparently was thinking along the same lines, and a grimace crossed his face. “Now that we know it’s happening, though, we can at least do our best to fight it. Question everything, Sweetie, even your own feelings. Especially your own feelings.”
“But how can I change them?” Sweetie asked, panic beginning to rise. “You can’t control feelings, can you?”
The Doctor took in a long breath. “Not entirely. But you can combat them. If you start feeling sad, remember something that makes you happy. If you start feeling listless, remember something that energizes you. If you start feeling worthless, tell yourself that you have worth. And if you feel scared, be brave and carry on.”
“Does that work?”
“Always has for me!” The Doctor winked, and Sweetie grinned. Almost immediately, though, the smile faded once more.
“Why do you think he really wanted to know about Ponyville?”
The Doctor’s smile faded, too, his forehead wrinkling. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. And I couldn’t even pick him up. There’s something very wrong here, Sweetie. I don’t know what it is yet, but I intend to find out.”
Sweetie Belle nodded. “Okay. You want some peas, or potatoes, or what?”
“Just a bit of bread, I think,” the Doctor said, grabbing some off of the platter. “‘M not that hungry.”
Sweetie shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, scooping a portion of peas and carrots onto her own plate.
The two slipped into silence after that, lost in their own thoughts, quietly eating their way through the dinner. Eventually, the Doctor sat back. “Finished.”
“Mhm,” Sweetie replied, abstractedly.
The Doctor’s face hardened. “Sweetie.”
“Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, I’m done.” She shook her head to clear it. “Ugh. It feels like my whole head is full of stuffing. I’d hate to be in here all day like, well…” she nodded at the guards.
The Doctor nodded, rubbing at his chin. “Can’t imagine it’s a scintillating position, no. Actually, I wonder…” He trotted over to one of the guards and waved a hoof in front of her face. No response. “Hello? We’d like to be taken to our rooms, now.”
Still, the mare didn’t so much as blink. The Doctor let out a mild huff of indignation. “Buckingham Palace all over again,” he muttered. “Well, if this lot won’t help us, how are we to find our rooms?”
“Dunno, but we definitely won’t get anywhere staying in here. Let’s go outside. Even sadness is better than all this… emptiness.”
“Agreed,” the Doctor said with a sharp nod. “Anyway, at least outside somepony might be sapient enough to help us.”
Sweetie cast a last look back at the bright white room as the two trotted out into the dingy blue corridor. “I’m glad the princesses got rid of that,” she said. Then, a thought struck her. “How did they get rid of it? The empire, I mean. How did they vanish it?”
The Doctor stopped in his tracks. “Good question, actually. I never thought to ask. It does seem pretty tricky to pull off, doesn’t it? Some sort of… temporal displacement? But then how was the crystal refreshed? It certainly wasn’t any sort of shade like this when I visited it.”
He frowned meditatively as they continued down the corridor. “And another thing, where is everypony? Only folks we’ve seen are the guards and the king.”
“That’s about all there is to see,” a voice said from behind the travelers. Sweetie and the Doctor spun round. A deep green crystal pony grinned weakly at them. “Hello. I’m Jade Corona, about the last pony in the castle who isn’t a soldier. I’ll be your guide this evening.”
The Doctor broke into a smile and shook the mare firmly by the hoof. “A pleasure, Miss Corona. I’m the Doctor, this is my associate, Sweetie Belle.”
“Please, it’s Jade,” the mare said, cracking a faint smile. “And the pleasure is all mine, I promise. It’s just about impossible to have any kind of decent conversation around here these days, and it’s been driving me crazy.”
The Doctor grinned broadly. “Ah, well, nothing like a good chinwag, I always say. So if you aren’t a guard, what are you, then?”
“Me? I’m Sombra’s chief political advisor. Not been much call for me these days, of course. He tends to find the war advisor a much more agreeable conversationalist.”
The Doctor frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Jade shrugged. “It is what it is,” she said. “I’m not crazy about the culture of war that’s sprung up, myself. If he’d even tried diplomacy…”
Sweetie Belle’s nose crinkled up. “Tried diplomacy about what?”
The crystal mare blinked, taking a half-step backwards. “About… what? Do you really not know?”
“We’ve been travelling,” Sweetie said.
At the same moment, the Doctor said, “We’re hermits.”
There was a long pause. “Travelling hermits,” Sweetie Belle concluded.
“Uh… huh,” said Jade, nodding slowly. “Okay, sure. Why not. Travelling hermits, what will they think of next…”
“So, you were saying about diplomacy?” Sweetie asked.
“Oh! Well, that’s something of a long story…”
“I think we’ve got time,” the Doctor assured her. “Just give us the Cliff’s notes, eh?”
“The what?”
“The outline.”
“Oh, well, alright,” Jade agreed. “Well, it all started about… it must be a little over ten years ago. The Crystal Empire was at the height of prosperity…”