//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Defender of Justice, King Sombra! // by VashTheStampede //------------------------------// In Equestria's northern forests, a black unicorn with a smooth, red horn stirred. His head – scratch that, his everything hurt. A dull, throbbing ache penetrated his head, while the remainder of his body felt like he was constantly being prodded with needles. Sombra stood slowly, gingerly, gently increasing the weight he placed on each hoof as he rose. He shook his head in a vain attempt to dispel the headache, his long, unkempt black mane fell down over his face, sparking an ill-fated attempt to use magic to fix it. A bolt of pain shot to the front of his head, and he fell down again, pressing his hooves to his temples. He noticed his metal boots had vanished, as had his crown, and likely his regal robes as well. Oh my head… so magic is out of the question. And my clothes are gone. Darn, I liked that robe. That’s unfortunate… but I should be happy to be alive, and to have this familiar form. A blast like that? I’m surprised I regenerated at all. Where am I? Hmm… no snow, but sizable trees. Still relatively northern, but not the Empire anymore. The Empire – oh sweet Faust the Empire. I… I’m an absolute monster, Sombra thought. The memories flooded back to him: his slaves, personal servants he treated with no respect, the ponies he had tortured or even killed, ruling over an unwilling populace by fear, not respect. Sombra sat up suddenly, trying to push away from his own hooves, those hooves that had done so many terrible things to so many ponies. As he recoiled, his mane once again fell over his face. Before his world went black, though, something purple caught in the corner of his vision. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his hooves up and pushed his mane out of his face a second time. He jerked his head slightly to the left, and to his horror, confirmed what he thought he had seen a moment ago – a wisp of purple smoke, trailing from the edges of his eyes. He set his hooves down sharply, and stood up. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed his trivial fears about his robes to be true, and alerted him to the existence of a jet-black tail, equally as long and shaggy as his mane. Resolving to do something about this later, he charged forward, ignoring the pain that lanced up his legs with every hooffall. He ran through the woods, searching, hoping to find a pool of water, praying to the Fausticorn that the little curls of smoke were just after-effects, signs of a fading past that he could leave behind him. He dodged past a rather large tree, and looked around past it as he ran on. There – a glimmer through the woods, not too far away. Sombra turned sharply, stumbling slightly and twisting his ankle. Hobbling as fast as he could towards the small pond, he broke the treeline and shuffled towards the shore on three legs, swallowing hard before moving his head above the water. The clear, reflective water confirmed his fears. Trails of translucent purple smoke curled up from the corners of his eyes, the telltale particles drifting ever skyward. Evil and darkness had consumed the unicorn long ago, it would not go away so easily. His green and red eyes were testament enough to that. As well as the eyes, however, he did notice other things about his appearance – namely that his mane, while unkempt, did look rather dashing, and his fangs, though intimidating, were pretty cool if he said so himself. He smiled and tried to put on a seductive look, the amusement at his own failure driving away the regret for a few moments. The cocky smile faded to a frown, the reflection that stared back at him a reminder of things that could not be so easily undone. He stepped back, letting his rump hit the soft, sandy soil on the edge of the lake with a soft thud. This sand feels so… nice, he thought, after a thousand years trapped in ice, sand makes a rather pleasant seat. Much better than the ice and much better than the crrrrystaaaaaal throne. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. I also don’t know why I drew the word crystal out so long. Especially in my own thoughts. Goodness, that became a reflex while I wa- A sudden gurgling noise brought him back from his thoughts of soft sand and crystals. He looked down at himself instinctively, the sound having seemed to come from his stomach. A second gurgle brought his suspicions to fact, and the disgraced ex-king realized he was really rather hungry. A quick glance around him informed him of no viable food sources, and another noise from his gut informed him of how badly he needed one. Sombra glanced skyward, noting the position of the sun. It was early afternoon, and the fiery orb had begun its slow westward descent. Had he had any with him, Sombra would have placed his bits that heading south would be the most likely way to find civilization, and by extension, food. Sure, the Crystal Empire was likely closer, but he would be killed or captured on sight there, and he had no intentions of going anywhere near ice for as long as he lived. Steeling himself for the trek ahead of him, Sombra turned south and began limping towards what he hoped would be some kindly town. --- The journey proved longer and less fruitful than Sombra had hoped for. His hunger had become physically painful some hours ago, before the sun had even set. It had been some hours since then, and now he could only hope that he was headed in the proper direction. The tingling, body-covering pain had left him some time ago, and his headache had all but completely subsided. As an experiment, he had learned he could use magic again, but it was still limited and dark. The rock he’d tried to levitate had subsequently become sentient and attacked him. A second Dark Magic blast had vaporized it. I would rather live as an earth pony than use Dark Magic again, he had sworn to himself. It took serious concentration for a pony to conjure evil enough thoughts to cast Dark Magic – and Sombra had done so while trying to produce good thoughts. Now, limping through the woods, in the pitch black of a cloudy night, Sombra felt an emotion entirely foreign to him, but not to his former subjects. Fear. King Sombra, the former iron-shod ruler of Equestria’s frozen north, was afraid of the dark. Every hoot of an owl, every time a twig snapped under his hooves, Sombra stiffened or let loose a rather un-kingly squeak of terror. More than once he walked into a tree he couldn’t see, and at one point he stepped in a puddle that he swore would be the end of him. Not twenty minutes ago, Sombra had decided the best option would be to just lie down and sleep to let the darkness go away. However, upon finding a tree he could tuck himself against, so as not to expose his back to the scary monsters aside from himself that may have inhabited these woods, he noticed a flicker through the trees, not too far away. Any light source was better than no light source, and so he began his stately tripping sprint towards what looked to be a fire. Upon reaching the outskirts of the light, the source became apparent – it was indeed a campfire, surrounded by several small tents, one of which had the word “Counselor” painted on the side of it in sloppy red lettering. In the center of the ring of tents the campfire burned softly, ringed by some logs that served as rudimentary benches. A lone filly sat there, idly poking at the fire with a stick. A small green beret topped her orange mane, contrasting with her light tan coat. Her head was propped up on a hoof, her green eyes struggling to stay open. A yawn escaped her. She seems like a nice enough filly, Sombra thought, I wonder if she’d let me have any food. I could ki- no. No, I would not. I would never, the king chastised himself. As he tried to decide how to break the ice with the little filly, she spoke up. “Are you just gonna keep standing there,” she asked, “or are you gonna explain why a big stallion is walking into a camp full of little fillies in the middle of the night?” Her voice didn’t tremble at all, but Sombra thought he detected a little bit of fear behind the sarcasm. “I…” Sombra began, his voice growling out. He stopped himself – his voice was the voice of a tyrant. Deep, gravelly, with not the slightest trace of mercy or benevolence. The fangs adorning his maw did little to reduce the fear-inducing rumble that words turned into when he spoke. The filly had sat bolt upright and was staring intently at him, rigid, prepared to scream and run at a moment’s notice. Sombra opened his mouth again, and this time the filly was looking at him when his fangs came out. The scream would have woken any pony within a thousand yards, were there any besides the camp. In a second, the counselor was out of her tent and between Sombra and the little filly. Sombra’s eyes began to soften, a frown forming on his face. Soon, other fillies began to poke their heads out of the tents, sleepy eyes widening in shock at the imposing black stallion standing in their camp. “Girls, please, just go back to sleep. Sir, I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave and I’m going to report you to the authorities as soon as I can. Leave this camp and never return,” the white earth mare said, her un-styled pink mane hanging down over her shoulders. Sombra had to admit to himself that she was pretty, but also realized that now was not the time to voice that opinion. “I… I’m sorry, I just…” he cringed at the sound of his own voice, and the white mare recoiled, the tan filly moving further behind her. Sombra began to turn and walk away, wincing slightly as he put weight on his still-tender ankle. He saw the white mare crane her head slightly, a concerned frown suddenly striking her face. “Sir? Are you ok? Are you hurt?” She asked. Sombra’s only response was to raise his injured hoof and wave it, before gesturing dismissively and beginning to trot off again. I’m going to get fired for this… “Sir, come here, please, I’m a nurse. I can help,” she offered. Sombra turned and looked at her, unintentionally putting on a killer set of puppy-dog eyes. His stomach chose that exact moment to growl, quite loudly, and the pink-maned mare’s heart broke. “I can offer you food and a place to rest. You’re clearly lost and hungry, and maybe sick, if your voice is anything to judge by. Please, sir, just… let me help you,” then, noticing the filly still attached to her back leg, she added, “Tag-a-long, you can go back to bed, I can deal with this… interloper,” she finished, jostling her leg a little to dislodge the filly. She shuffled sideways, never breaking eye contact with Sombra, and took to a tent as quickly as her side-stepping hooves allowed. The king smiled at the cute action, before returning his gaze to the kind mare in front of him. He cast her a genuine smile, taking care not to show his teeth, nodding in thanks. “Look, I have food and a spare sleeping mat in my tent. I know you stumbled in out of the shadows and you are a rather large, well-muscled unicorn stallion, and that offering this to you goes against every instinct I have as a mare, but as a pony… I can tell you need help. Please, let me help you,” her head lowered earnestly, eyes pleading. Her tone shifted suddenly. “But I swear, if you try anything funny, I will snap your neck without a moment’s hesitation.” Sombra gulped. He knew the look on her face; it was one he himself had worn for a thousand years prior. He knew it was the truth. He nodded. “Good. Now come, I’ve got a first-aid kit in my tent. I can do a more thorough examination when we go back… tonight is the last night of the camping trip. We’re heading back to Ponyville tomorrow. My name is Nurse Redheart, by the way. What’s yours? Don’t worry about your voice. It may have scared me the first time, but I know it now.” Sombra shook his head, instead picking up a stick from nearby, messily etching his name into the dirt. It was imprecise, and slow, but that was better than hearing his own voice or trying to use magic. When he finished, Nurse Redheart looked at it for a moment, as though trying to recall if she’d heard the name before. “So your name is Sombra? Well, if you won’t speak, but you’re a unicorn, why won’t you use magic?” She asked. Sombra scratched his response into the dirt. “Bad memories. Well, I’ve heard of worse reasons for a pony to not speak or not use magic. Here, let me get that ankle of yours wrapped. We can talk more in the morning,” Nurse Redheart said as she stepped towards the stallion, Sombra backing away to give her plenty of room to do whatever it was she intended to. As it turned out, all that was was dousing the fire with a bucket of water. The hissing lasted only a moment before darkness set in, and Sombra unconsciously edged closer to his new friend. Well, perhaps ‘friend’ is a strong term for this, but perhaps it can become something. He stopped when he realized he was touching something, and stiffened. “Big black stallion walks out of the night and is afraid of the dark, huh?” Redheart chuckled. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and she placed a hoof over the larger stallion’s shoulder to guide him towards her tent. Ushering him inside, she stepped in behind him and zipped the tent shut.