Skeletor’s mind was weighed down by his recent revelations.
He laid in his bed uncomfortably, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the perturbing silence around him. Without his crown, his drive to learn magic, or his desire to study, he had become a living fixture in the castle, like a stray cat that they had put up with. He had nothing but time and absolutely nothing to distract himself from every idle thought that roamed through his mind.
Skeletor, not for the first time that day, escaped the confides of his bed as he mindlessly wandered around his room, his fingers occasionally rapping against the crates as he walked by. He finally casted a glance to the newest object of his suffering, the Havoc Staff, as he allowed his mind to roam freely.
Questions kept coming to him whenever he thought of Cadence’s words. How much of his soul did each spell steal? Would it really regrow or would there be some ethereal scar that always marred his spirit? Was there a chance that he had already used all of his soul without even realizing it? Was there a way to circumvent that rule and still use magic?
"What if I could use the ponies?" He thought.
It was too quick to stop, striking like lightning before he aggressively tossed that idea away.
A hand glided over his skull, desperate to reach inside his mind and wretch out the terrible thought once and for all. It wasn’t the first time he had been haunted with the idea of using ponies as a soul farm, but he sincerely hoped it would be the last.
Those thoughts would last for only a second before suddenly being rejected by every voice in his head, buried under a mountain of self-loathing for even humoring the idea. But the fact that ideas like those emerged at all made Skeletor feel sick to his core. He had caught himself silently lamenting the loss of Sombra’s tome more than once, almost wishing that he had broken the seal that bound it before he set it ablaze. He didn't want to flirt with those ideas, to think of the ponies as a resource or tool, but the thoughts would always find a way to be heard.
Whispers grew into loud questions, showing him a sickening side of himself that was far too eager to dance with the temptation.
‘They weren’t your thoughts,’ is what Evil-Lyn would have claimed. She would have told him that they were ideas planted by demons to drive him mad, monsters that wanted to guide him away from what was right. Skeletor never considered himself a religious man, but he had always bent his ear to Evil-Lyn whenever she shared her own beliefs.
Thinking of her brought a flood of relief to Skeletor as he began to wonder about the things and people he left on Earth. It was a natural distraction from his darker thoughts, and a good use of his time as he reviewed each memory. His journal had proven that he had forgotten about his youngest sibling, Stephan, but a wave of memories quickly came back to reassure him that not all of his past was lost. If he could remember his brother naturally in a passing thought, then it didn’t seem too far-fetched to believe that he would even remember his own name someday.
He had also reassured himself that his friend's name was Tuvar, and not 'Trevor' like he originally claimed. Memories that he had forgotten sprouted up of his old friend, giving Skeletor a glimpse of what he had unknowingly forgotten. In time, his memories would fix themselves just as they had already done.
With that reassuring thought in mind, Skeletor decided to make the most of his time in the Empire before he returned home. He had allowed his fears to condemn him to his room for too long, and a walk through the city the next morning sounded perfect. It would be a great chance to clear his mind and see the city more properly.
Helping to distribute breakfast to the crystal ponies seemed like it would be a good place to start. It was nice to spend some time with Avid Value, giving measured amounts of stew and other goods to the ponies. Sadly, the royal treasurer would be too busy these days to spend time with Skeletor, and he supposed he didn’t have the authority to be with Avid or the others either.
It was a strange concept to come to terms with. On Earth, there was a certain social etiquette when it came to friendships, such as staying closer to people his own age and other subtle unspoken rules.
Moving away broke apart relationships, other times old friendships would wither away, busy or conflicting schedules could certainly cause some people to lose touch, and the prejudice of someone’s family could easily sway others to avoid Skeletor in the past, but his social status was something new to consider.
Skeletor’s own position in the Empire was nebulous, not a citizen or nobleman but certainly not an unwelcome guest. Did becoming the emperor, or whatever he actually was, actually grant him citizenship? He had meant to poke Copper Plate’s brain about it before, but the thought had eluded him whenever they went over Terra’s major history.
Regardless, his status in the Empire meant that he wasn’t able to speak with the other council members unless they approached him first, with the exception of Colonel Kernel who had given him an invitation to sit with the guards whenever they ate.
He briefly lamented the fact that Avid wouldn’t be there, but became reinvigorated once he assured himself that Colonel Kernel or one of the guards would oblige his request for a morning stroll.
Once Skeletor had secured his cloak and tightened the bracers on shins, he reached forward to grab the Havoc Staff with a spell before his hand suddenly recoiled. The loose aura that had briefly kissed his fingers dissipated as he berated himself.
“Idiot.”
Shaking his head, Skeletor quickly strode over to the scepter, snatching it off of the wall before he secured it to the holster on his back.
Despite the staff being the source, or at least partially responsible, for the state of his soul and possibly his mind, he couldn’t part with it.
Before his conversation with Cadence, the Havoc Staff had acted as a comforting reminder of home, something familiar that he had touched when his hands were still naturally human. Even the thought of leaving it behind unnerved Skeletor.
So, once it was safely secured to his back, Skeletor strolled out of his room and made his way towards the dining hall with ease, exchanging a few pleasant greetings with the staff and guards as he walked by.
Cadence offered him a polite wave as he entered the room, which he returned as he went to sit with Colonel Kernel. As usual, he ignored the side glances and obvious stares from some of the other tables and took a seat next to the colonel.
“Good evening, sir,” Colonel Kernel greeted, which followed similar greetings from the other guards.
“Evening everypony,” Skeletor replied. Their colloquial speech was a bit jarring to imitate at times, but a little effort on his part to blend in hadn't hurt.
While the term “everyone” or “everybody” did exist on Terra, it was normally reserved for more formal speech. A few books from Earth, often stories translated from foreign languages, had annotations that mentioned casual and formal speech patterns, but he hadn’t put too much thought into it since he spoke English. The most formal type of speech he could imagine were terms like “sir” or “madam”.
His accidental culture clash meant that he had been using a professional and formal speech that made him look more authoritative than he actually was whenever he spoke. Perfect for running an Empire, but horrible for casual relationships.
”Skeletor, stumbling his way through success since birth,” he sardonically thought. “Deft Ear, glad to see you here. I was sure you’d be resting before your shift tonight for the Heart.”
The green coated stallion smiled smugly as he tapped aa hoof on the table. “It’s like you said sir, ‘evil never sleeps,’ and I don’t see any reason why good should either.”
“When did I say that?”
“You were telling us the story of the ‘Dark Knight’,” Steady Gaze helpfully answered.
“Right, right, now I remember. Well, try to catch some sleep later, Deft. Wouldn’t want Sketch’s bed to get cold, would you?” He jokingly asked, drawing a blush through the stallion's emerald fur. “Nye-heh-heh. Oh, by the way, how is the night gate working? Easy to set up and take down?”
“Yes sir, works like a champ!” Deft replied proudly. “We’ll set it up tonight and take it down the next morning. I got to practice setting it up earlier in the barracks with some help. Shouldn’t take more than a hoof full of ponies to move it around the Heart.”
“That’s good to hear, I was worried that it’d be hard for the guards to use it. It’s odd to think about how much you can do with just hooves.”
“Same for us,” one of the guards added on. “Can’t imagine how you can use your hands. It’s like you’ve got five legs.”
Skeletor chuckled a little at that, flexing his fingers with mild interest as his meal arrived.
“So, any chance you’re gonna continue that story about the Dark Knight?” A guard asked, earning a few interested nods as they looked over at Skeletor.
A day or so before, one of the guards had pointed out the bat themed apparel on his armor plates, and the conversation had spiraled into stories about Gotham’s defender after that. Their eyes would always spark with delight when he explained something as simple as a toaster, and would practically fall out of their eyes whenever he told a fictional story.
Some stories would spawn from a series of explanations, often starting with him answering a question or explaining a common Earth saying. He had to explain quite a few idioms after the “Date with destiny” debacle. Nice stallion, but certainly not Skeletor’s type.
It was fun to spin a tale and watch them hang on the edge of their seats, but Skeletor would be lying if he claimed it couldn't be tiring at times.
“Nye-Heh, maybe during breakfast, tomorrow. Oh, by the way, Kernel, would it be alright if you could spare a guard so I could take a walk outside sometime after breakfast? I need to get out of the castle and stretch my legs for a while.”
“Don’t see why not. I’d be happy to escort you, sir,” the colonel offered.
Nodding in appreciation to the soldier, Skeletor and the guards ate their meals with idle conversations filling the air. It had been the most relaxing moment for Skeletor in a long time, a break from the stress that had plagued him ever since he woke up on Terra.
Amore Memory Day had been a fun distraction, and his conversations with Avid Value had put Skeletor at ease, but he could never claim that he was relaxed in the company of others. When he was alone, he could drift away and ignore the fact that he was trapped, giving into the blissful comfort of silence every evening when he went to bathe. Casual conversations weren’t something that he had felt relaxed with before, but for once, it actually was.
He felt comfortable just listening to them swap stories, letting the memories of his day melt away as he enjoyed their company.
It was a calm moment that had set the foundation for a horrible storm.
Skeletor would soon die.
It was destined to pass, bound by the same fate that Sombra had followed long ago. It was destiny that allowed Sombra to make a deal with Grogar, and it was through Sombra’s own strength that he became a King.
Skeletor, the inexperienced fool, had only been lucky. He had latched onto a moment of opportunity and taken advantage of Sombra’s surprise, parading his small victory around as if he had actually earned the title of King Slayer. His deceitful nature carried onto his conquest of the Empire, hiding his true nature from the ponies as he bragged to the shadows.
Then, when he was fated to die at the hooves of an alicorn, the self-proclaimed “Master of Evil” bowed to a princess like a humble pet. All of his confidence had vanished without a fight, his own sense of self-preservation driving him to lick her hooves and hand her a hideous crown. It was one of the most pathetic displays Sombra had ever witnessed, watching a demon grovel under the guise of friendship to save his life. He was a coward, unfit to even be called a prince, let alone a king or lord.
Sombra, however, was a true king. He was a powerful lord who had slain immortals and surpassed the mortal bindings of his old body. For a creature who had fought against two alicorns simultaneously, slaying a mad demon was nothing more than a chore. The only challenge in his plan was his detachment from the mortal realm. While he could still use spells to interact with the world, he couldn't summon the power needed to kill a demon.
Still, even in his weakened state, it would only be a matter of time before the demon fell, even if it wasn't by his own hoof.
Sombra watched from the shadows as Skeletor laughed alongside his slaves, listening to the demon’s old plan before falling through the floor to reach the dungeons below.
While Somba mocked the creature for being pathetic, he would admit that some of Skeletor’s words struck him with interesting ideas. If not for his blatant lies to the Empire, defaming the king as a lowly demon, then he would never have thought to twist other’s loyalty to his cause. Skeletor's own words and actions would be Sombra's tools, allowing him to send the beast back to Tartarus where he belonged.
After donning the visage of a dead immortal, Sombra appeared before his most willing slave. The general, upon noticing Sombra’s presence, bowed deeply to the false alicorn.
“Rise, my loyal soldier,” ‘Amore’ ordered, lifting a wing to guide the stallion to his hooves.
The general wore a stoic mask, waiting for his master to speak like a well-trained pet. From the dark crevices under Cannon Fodder’s eyes, Sombra could tell that the stallion avoided his nightmares by foregoing sleep altogether.
“Have you slept well, my subject?”
“I’m feeling fine,” he answered.
“But how was your rest? Did Skeletor’s spell reach you again?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, your majesty.”
Sombra had to suppress a smile as he walked around the red stallion, taking a moment to examine him with an appraising gaze. While he took pride in the fear that he had stolen from Cannon Fodder, molding him into a fearless and devoted slave, he also noticed the general’s thinning frame. A glance at Cannon's empty plate revealed that he had cleaned it, and the king could only assume that prisoners weren't given the same portions as other ponies were. Taking note of the general's physique, Sombra made a mental note to fix the issue later. He couldn't allow his foolish slave to die too easily, after all.
“How can I expect you to serve me if you cannot rest? I can promise that Skeletor’s wicked spell won’t touch you tonight. I’ll protect you from him. Come tomorrow morning, you’ll need all your strength for what’s to come.”
“What’s happening tomorrow? Are we attacking him, ma’am?” He asked eagerly, restraining himself with a practiced patience as his 'princess' stopped circling the stallion to trot towards the bars.
“In a way. I cannot kill the demon as it stands now, but tomorrow, you will escape this cell and help me attain the power I need to slay him.”
“Oh, we… I see. I’ll be ready, ma’am,” Cannon Fodder replied with a hint of disappointment. “So, what do I need to do?”
“Just rest, my loyal soldier. I will handle everything else. Skeletor has already unknowingly helped us in more ways than one.”
“What do you mean, ma’am?”
“Skeletor comes from a different realm, one that doesn’t hold the same values as ours. There is a hint of his true nature behind every seemingly pleasant decision, and I plan to expose him to Everypony.
“His misguided ‘good deed’ will be the catalyst for your escape,” Sombra explained, with a gleeful smile decorating his muzzle. “Now, I must excuse myself, my loyal soldier. Get a good night’s rest while I ensure your escape,” he ordered, earning a stoic nod from the stallion as he trotted over to his bed to lie down.
Sombra’s smile grew as he melted into the shadows, relishing the general’s blind devotion before he soared through the castle. Ordering the general was always a fun reminder of his power. Even without taking full control of his mind, the general faithfully followed every command like a loyal dog, waiting for praise from a dead mare.
After taking a brief respite to soak in his own amusement, Sombra used his magic and swam into the realm of dreams to call upon his unknowing servants.
There was a lovely little mare who needed to go on a moon-lit trot.