//------------------------------//
// The Saddest Of Stories 
// Story: The Crusader King 
// by naturalbornderpy 
//------------------------------//

A gray-coated stallion with deep blue mane crept into her room late into the night. A streak of silver wove through his mane, ending just above his cobalt eyes. The horn that gripped the lit candle by his head was long and straight. Dark bags and hard lines underlined his eyes.
                
Sombra almost didn’t recognize his former self, as he watched the scene in the black void of dreams.
                
On a bed four sizes too big for her was a filly with a light blue coat and silver mane—a unicorn like her father. She hadn’t been asleep when he’d entered the room.
                
“You want your bed back, Daddy?” she asked, her small head nearly consumed by the plush pillow behind her.
                
Sombra shook his head. “That’s all right. The couch is plenty. You need a big bed so you can get your rest.” He set the candle on the bedside table and sat next to her. He put a leg to her head. “How are you feeling? Did you drink all of that remedy I gave you?”
                
Nocturne winced. “I did, but it tasted awful. Can’t you add something to your potions so they don’t taste so bad?”
                
He smiled thinly. “I think it’s best they don’t taste good. Don’t want ponies getting addicted to sleeping potions or pain removers, do we?”
                
She struggled to sit up in bed, so Sombra helped her up. She asked, “Do you get to talk to the King tonight? I tried to stay up and wait for you, but then I fell asleep until I heard you come home. You must’ve talked to him if you were gone so long.”
                
“I… actually….” Sombra stared down at the bed sheets. “I wasn’t able to see him, Nocturne. The line was too long and he must’ve been busy with other matters. But, I promise, I’ll try again tomorrow.”
                
“Oh.” Nocturne set her back against the headrest. “He’s not going to let anyone leave the city, is he?”
                
Sombra shook his head. “Don’t say that. I only need to talk to him—to make him understand. I’m sure any day now he’ll see the error of his ways.” He tried for a smile. “And if nothing else, I’ll make you feel better myself. My potions must’ve cured nearly half the Empire by now.”
                
Nocturne looked up to him, finding his eyes again. “But I heard there’s no cure for this—that the only cure is beyond the walls and that the King won’t let anyone—”
                
In one swift motion, Sombra scooped her up and held her to his chest, stroking a hoof across her mane. He kept her head pressed against him to hide his tears from her. “Don’t believe everything you hear, sweetie. Everything’s going to work out fine. Trust me.”
                
Nocturne wrapped her hooves around his neck. “I wish you were King.”
                
He chuckled. “I’m sure a lot of ponies wish they were King right now.”
                
“But you’d be a good one. And then that would make me a Princess.”
                
“You know I’ve always considered you a Princess.”
                
She giggled, burying her head into him. “But a real one. And I’m pretty sure there’s not a single Princess without their cutie mark.”
                
“You’re still young enough for that. You still have time.”
                
“What do you think mine will be? When I get it?”
                
Sombra pulled her away from him, uncaring of his shimmering eyes. “You wouldn’t want me to ruin the surprise now, would you?”
                 

***


 

Twilight Sparkle circled the invisible enclosure, checking and double-checking the marks on the floor and making sure they matched the ones from her text. The clear barrier was a circle twelve feet in size, and at its very center was the unconscious Sombra. During his sleep, his legs kicked out at random intervals, a line of drool seeping from his mouth. Either he was dreaming, or Applejack had scrambled his brains something fierce by her kick.
                
Twilight turned to her friends at the other end of her laboratory. “I think that should do it. Nothing will be getting in or getting out of that barrier unless I let it.”
                
Twilight’s laboratory sat in the west wing of her castle—so large and expansive, it basically made up the entire wing. Silver machinery and instruments lined the walls, while a giant moveable telescope poked out from the glass ceiling two stories above. Although she didn’t consider Sombra a science experiment or anything of the sort, she thought having extra room to maneuver should something arise would be the safest option.
                
Rainbow Dash hovered near the shield, keeping a careful distance away. “You sure about that, Twilight? Sombra seemed pretty pissed and powerful back at the playground.”
                
Twilight gave her a reassuring nod. “That’s only because we were unprepared. The markings I put on the floor, I uncovered from an ancient text, used to keep demons out of old villages. Ponies could cross the barrier, but no one else. I made a few changes, and I’m now able to control the setting on the walls that surround him—it goes from one all the way to ten. One being a tiny shock, up to ten which may or may not stop the heart once touched. If I set it to zero, it will shut down completely.”
                
Applejack whistled, staring up at the invisible prison. “What you got it set to now?”
                
“Eleven.”
                
“But I thought you said it only went up to ten.”
                
“Shh! He’s awake!”
                
On the floor, Sombra lifted his head from his legs, blinking sluggishly. He cracked his neck from side to side before standing, wobbling as he did. When his eyes met Twilight’s, he sighed angrily. “Really? You still haven’t learnt your lesson?” He started towards her. “As long as I am still alive, I will not stop until each one of you—”
                
Zap!
                
Twilight could tell the moment his nose mashed against the barrier, even if it only lasted a fraction of a second. Next, she watched as the fully grown stallion was propelled to the other end of the cage as easily as a tennis ball hit with a racket. She lowered the shield’s power down to one before he struck it again.
                
“Ow,” Sombra muttered, his back legs bent halfway up the wall while the rest of him was sprawled out along the floor. He grimaced and set his sights back on her. “What do you want!? Either let me go or do away with me! It’s not that hard, you know.”
                
Twilight approached the shield, cranking its power back up once Sombra stopped touching it. “We’re not here to harm you, Sombra. We’re only here to talk.”
                
“Tell my burnt forehead that!”
                
“This barrier is only for our protection. Don’t touch it and no harm will come to you.”
                
Sombra glared at the area around him, noting the markings on the floor. Keeping an eye on them, he came forward until he was at the very edge of his prison. “Why would I tell you anything?”
                
“Maybe you want to—it might feel good to let something out.”
                
Sombra belched, fogging up the wall. “You’re right. That felt great. Ready to release me yet?”
                
Twilight shut her eyes. “If you’re not ready to talk, then maybe I can piece together a few things until you’re ready. For starters, I know you have feelings for someone named Nocturne.”
                
At that, Sombra tightened his jaw.
                
“And after doing some research, I found out you weren’t the first King of the Crystal Empire. Not even the tenth or twentieth, actually. Although you were the last.”
                
He sneered. “So bookworm read herself some books. What do you want from me? A history quiz? Fine. Here’s a multiple choice question, just for you. How does Twilight Sparkle meet her demise? A) Decapitation. B) Immolation. C) Paper cut—”
                
Twilight didn’t let him finish. “It also says that during your reign as King, you attached yourself to no one. No friends, family, spouse—no one at all.”
                
“I had an Empire to run. It was enough,” he spat back.
                
Twilight hated herself for going down this path, although she thought it was the only way to get everything out of him. She bit down on her tongue painfully before she spoke.
                
“So you left this Nocturne behind when you became king?”
                
His lips twitched in fury. “I had an Empire to run. It was—”
                
“Enough. Yes, you said that. Did you cast her aside with your newfound position, or did something else happen to her? Something beyond your control? I read your Empire was afflicted by a plague right before your reign. Was it around then that something happened? Something that made you the way you are?” Twilight shook her head. “I can’t imagine you were always like this. What happened to you? What happened to Nocturne, and why does it have you following the Crusaders around so much?”
                
She spared a quick glance at his plot—at the ancient scars that crisscrossed his flank, heavily lined and faded.
                
He covered it with his tail when he saw her staring. He gave her a one-sided grin. “If I tell you, will you let me out of this thing?”
                
“That depends what you plan on doing afterwards.”
                
“I plan on leaving this town and never coming back.”
                
“That sounds a little too good to be true, considering how many death threats you’ve been spewing tonight.”
                
Sombra cocked a brow. “Don’t want to risk it all for some more knowledge, little bookworm?”
                
Applejack walked up to Twilight. “Can we talk? In private?”
                
She and Twilight went a few meters away from the circle, speaking in whispers.
                
Applejack started, “You can’t trust him, Twilight.”
                
“I don’t, but what else can we do? We can’t destroy him, like he wants. We can’t really let him go, either, without knowing for sure what he plans on doing.”
                
“Then what does that leave?”
                
Twilight looked down. “I guess that leaves getting to know him a little better. He might’ve cast doubt on his goodwill towards the Crusaders tonight, but some part of me still thinks it’s just an act. I think it’s only pride that’s getting in the way. In all the time we spent spying on him, did it ever seem like he’d hurt your sister or her friends? It might be helpful to get to know him more.”
                
“And if it’s all nothing but lies?”
                
Twilight stared into the cage.

Sombra had settled down near the edge, his plot on the ground and his forelegs resting on his lap. His eyes had a tired, faraway appearance, as if thinking of something. He caught her eyes and immediately gave her a smirk—a faint one, at least.
                
Twilight took a breath. “Somehow I don’t think he’s going to lie.”
 

***


 

Spike lifted his head from his scroll, his eyes narrowing until they were only slits. “I can hear you whispering, you know.”
                
On the thin bench against the wall sat the three Crusaders, tightly bunched together. When Spike spoke to them, Apple Bloom quickly spun away from Scootaloo and fixed her eyes on the ground again. It was a position they’d all been keeping since being brought up to Twilight’s workspace, high up in her castle. Spike had been given the task of keeping an eye on them until she returned, and he took the responsibility with as much seriousness as Ms. Harshwhinny would.
                
The silence in the room dragged, and Spike found it hard to concentrate on the list he’d been creating. He huffed and raised a claw. “Look. I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, but Twilight gave me a job, all right? I’m sure she won’t be much longer and then you can all go home.”
                
“And what about Sombra?” Scootaloo inquired.
                
Spike scratched his chin with his quill. “Well… um… Sombra will be just fine.”
                
“You promise? He hasn’t done anything wrong, honest!”
                
Spike dragged out a lengthy note from a drawer by his side. He scanned its contents morosely. “Threats of violence, threats of death, serving alcoholic beverages to the populace and the underage, having underage ponies serve said alcoholic beverages, attempted burial without the consent of those being buried—”
                
“He wasn’t really gonna do that!” Sweetie Belle chirped.
                
Spike didn’t look up from the list. “Didn’t seem that way to Twilight and the others. Let’s see: robbery, assault, assault with an unlicensed weapon that shoots candy and other sweets, driving a vehicle without a license, driving a vehicle that didn’t pass its exhaust emissions test, stealing untested devices from a well-known scientist, extorting said scientist to create said devices by kidnapping and use of threats.” He stared at the three of them. “You girls are in a lot of trouble by the sounds of it.”
                
Scootaloo blanched. “What? None of those were our ideas!”
                
“So you’re saying Sombra made you do all this?”
                
“No. It’s just….” She thought for a second. “It’s hard to explain, okay? Sombra’s very… charismatic when he wants to be. Or when he wants you to do something for him. He has a way with words, okay?”
                
Spike chuckled. “Then he really must’ve changed since the last time I saw him.” He returned to his scroll and made another note. He only wrote a single line before the fillies on the bench started whispering again. This time he let them continue unabated—honestly, it was more interesting than cataloging the castle’s various mustard varieties by shape, size, and color consistency.
                
“What do you think they’re doing to him?” Scootaloo asked softly.
                
“Talking, probably,” Apple Bloom replied. “Although, I’m not sure how much Sombra wants to talk. Why was he lying at the playground? He could’ve just told them he didn’t have a cutie mark and that he was trying to get one.”
                
“I don’t think it’s that simple, Apple Bloom.”
                
Apple Bloom sighed. “Probably not. Why do adults need to make things so difficult sometimes?”
                
Sweetie Belle finally joined in on the discussion. “Twilight wouldn’t hurt him, would she? I mean, he did attack them and everything, but… what do you think?”
                
“Not unless he insults them enough.”
                
That last part made all three of them go silent for a time.
                
“I wish we could be in there,” Sweetie Belle said glumly. “We could explain things better. Sombra’s being a big meany right now for no good reason. You think Spike would let us go see him if we asked?”
                
Scootaloo whispered, “I think there’s a fat chance of that. We won’t be seeing Sombra until Twilight’s done with him—whatever shape he’s left in, I mean.”
                
“Unless we escape and go see him ourselves.”
                
“You want to get in more trouble, Sweetie Belle?”
                
“Well, we were caught trying to bury our classmates this evening. I mean, how much more trouble could we get in?”
                
“Okay, but how?”
                
“Leave it to me.”
 

***


 

“Your idea sucked, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo told the unicorn bluntly, the paper bag over her head muffling her harsh tone.
                
Sweetie Belle shot her a look. Or, what Spike thought was a look, considering she was also wearing the same type of paper bag atop her head—three holes cut for her eyes and mouth. “At least it was an idea! Didn’t hear you coming up with anything better.”
                
The moment the Crusaders sent Sweetie Belle to intercept him, Spike opened the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieved the few items listed under “Crusader Tactic No. 12”; namely, to quickly subvert the Crusader’s overabundance of cute. Without a word, Sweetie Belle came around his desk and looked up at him with gigantic, pleading, shimmering eyes, bottom lip quivering in the air. The sight alone caused Spike’s heart to slow, so before she could open her mouth and deliver the killing blow to him, he slapped one of the three paper bags he had over her head, instantly disabling her adorable offensive strategy.
                
When she tried to take it off, Spike told her he’d only put a new bag on her head—one without any holes in it. That seemed to do the trick, as Sweetie Belle’s shoulders dropped and she rejoined her friends on the bench.
                
Two paper bags later and Spike thought he had the situation well under control.
                
I think someone deserves a raise after this, he thought, picturing dancing red and green gems in his mind’s eye.
                
Two minutes passed and all he could hear in the room was the scratch of his quill. Five minutes later and he only heard more of the same. Just out of eyesight, he could glimpse the trio of brown paper bags, staring solemnly at the floor. Maybe if he penciled in a few mustaches for his own amusement, things wouldn’t feel so awkward.
                
Spike sighed, rubbing at his temple. “You can still talk, all right? No one’s mad at you or anything, so—”
                
Spike finally glanced up from his desk and the dancing gems in his head shattered to the imaginary ground. On the bench against the wall were three floating paper bags and nothing more; held in an aura that could only have been Sweetie Belle’s. The door to the room was left ajar.
                
He moaned, “I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”
                

***


 

As Sombra sat on the ground and spoke, Twilight did the same only a foot outside his cage. His tone of voice rarely wavered, almost as if he was reading the ingredients of some recipe and not telling the tale of how the tyrannical King Sombra came to be. The only tells Twilight could read were when his eyes darted to the floor, or when his lips curled faintly into a grin or to a snarl. But for the most part, he was calm, which felt all the more unsettling to her.
                
“Before I was King, I was a potions maker,” he began evenly. “I started out with simple fixes before advancing to levels beyond even my teachers. As I grew, I became known around the Empire—I made remedies that could cure even the worst ailments. I was surprised as most were when I became an adult and never earned a cutie mark in my field of expertise. Odd, I must admit, although I stopped caring after a while.”
                
“So what you told the Crusaders was true, then?” Twilight said.
                
Sombra stared at her without answering, before clearing his throat and continuing. “I fell in love with one of my patients—a mare that I can hardly picture anymore. During our short time together, she gave me three very important things: her love, a child to call my own, and a reason to exist. I held little Nocturne in my hooves for less than a second before I was granted my cutie mark. It seemed my special talent was to be a father all along.”
                
Twilight couldn’t help but glance at the large scars on Sombra plot. If he took notice, he made no mention of it.
                
“My wife died in childbirth, and overnight I became the sole caretaker of my daughter. Life was hard, for a time, but as she grew, things became easier and life was all right again. It felt okay to move on, finally, years after she had passed.”
                
This was one of the times he turned away to stare at the floor.
                
“Our King during this time was of the paranoid type. He’d read of past battles and skirmishes that’d ruined entire cities. He busied himself thinking that everyone he wasn’t keeping an eye on was out to do away with him. When he took control of the Empire, he sealed its doors and did away with the outside world. No trading. No bartering. He’d already become certain that many of the cities nearby wanted the Empire for themselves and that it was only a matter of time until they came and took it. So he sealed us in. And kept us there. Alongside a disease that had leaked inside our walls without our knowledge.
                
“Some took to calling it the ‘Ghost Curse,’ although that never really fit. Sure, one of the ailments was paleness, but… .” He paused. “It killed one in ten. It made them weak and frail and eventually shut down their organs until they simply ceased to be. A cure might’ve been found outside the walls—it might’ve even been a simple one, too—but our King found one in ten pony’s lives more than acceptable in order to keep his doors closed.”
                
Sombra’s lips curled up into the smallest of grins. “That was where I came in. Ponies from all over the Empire sought me out, begging me for a cure. Perhaps I was cocky, then, thinking one could be found in time. But no matter what I tried, all I did was keep the sickness at bay until it came back with a vengeance. Then one day, my Nocturne came home with a cough and my, oh my, did I realize how far things were out of my control.
                
“Hundreds of citizens, my friends and I included, attempted to speak to the King—convince him he was making a mistake by not seeking outside help—only to find he’d sealed himself in his castle and would not leave until the ‘Ghost Curse’ took its toll and faded away. It was then, when I found my own skills in potions nowhere near what we needed, that I heard word of a darker potion—one which gave insurmountable strength, but took something much bigger away from those that drank it.”
                
His eyes flicked up to Twilight’s and held them there. “What would you do for someone you loved? Better yet, what wouldn’t you do?”
                
Twilight barely opened her mouth before Sombra answered for her.
                
“Anything?” he snapped. “It’s not always as simple as that, Princess.”
                
He turned away from her again, focusing on one of his hooves. “I rallied ponies together, mostly those with dying spouses or children. Almost everyone wanted someone to usurp the King, take the ill-fated potion and regain control of the city. But none were willing to pay the price. Once someone took the potion, neither their mind nor their body would be theirs anymore… or worse.”
                
“So you took it,” Twilight said. “You did what no one else was willing to.”
                
Sombra kept focused on his hoof. “In time, yes, but not then. I went to Nocturne after our rally; her weak and in bed. I told her what I wanted to do—what I needed to do, for her—and she told me that was the last thing she wanted.”
                
“Why?”
                
“Because she didn’t want some monster looking over her, she wanted her father there beside her. She said that’s all she ever wanted. He was the one that reassured her things would be all right. He was the one that consoled her after foals at school told her she wouldn’t amount to anything because she didn’t have a cutie mark yet.”
                
Twilight took a hurried glance to her side, where her friends sat and kept a careful distance away. Applejack gave her a quick nod and Twilight looked back to him.
                
“Nocturne died,” Sombra continued absently, “without a cure or a cutie mark. She was in my hooves when it happened—when she ceased to be anymore. I buried her that same day, next to the hundreds of other graves that had been dug in the previous weeks and that night I took a knife and slashed at my own cutie mark until it was unrecognizable.” He looked up with a toothy sneer. “I didn’t think I deserved such a mark anymore. I was supposed to be a parent and I let my only daughter die when I could’ve helped her. She looked up to me. I was her guardian. Perhaps the worst part was that she trusted me, throughout it all.”
                
Twilight shook her head. “There was nothing you could’ve done, Sombra. Don’t start—”
                
He shot her a look that told her now was not the time. She remained silent again.
                
“That night, I gathered every angry pony in the Empire. I told them of my plan and in return they cheered. It must’ve sounded wonderful to them. I know it would’ve to me if I had been the one listening. In front of everyone, I drank the potion that no one else would dare take to save us all. I’d expected some pain, yes, maybe some burning in the chest, but I was willing to accept all of that if I could wield untold power and march them all to the castle myself. Instead, I died that night. Right there in front of everyone. And they buried me next to my daughter and probably thanked Celestia herself that they never came to me for a potion to help them.”
                
With a near twinkle in his eyes, Sombra looked upward. “The next night, I came back to life—or, something resembling life. My coat was darker, was horn twisted, my eyes venomous. To others, I must’ve appeared awful. And inside, I felt empty, like my soul had left me when I died and didn’t bother to return. Which was probably for the best, mind you. The new me didn’t remember a thing about his older self. He only knew there was a King that wasn’t supposed to be. And soon he dealt with him. The only way Sombra knew how.”
                
Twilight scooted a few inches closer to the barrier. “In my books, it says you kept the King alive for twenty days while you took control.”
                
He smiled. “History books have a terrible reputation of overlooking details. What they fail to mention is that during those twenty days, I actually killed the King repeatedly, then brought him back to life to start all over again.” He sighed. “It was only when one of my more noble guards took the King away from me one night and put him out of his misery once and for all that he got away. Pity, really. I had so much more in-store for him.”
                
“Did you ever open the Empire’s gates like you said you would? To look for a cure?”
                
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you think?”
                
Twilight tried to change the topic at hand. “This curse of yours. Is there a cure to it?”
                
“Curse?” He furrowed his brows. “I accepted this new form wholeheartedly. I wouldn’t call it a curse.”
                
“I would. But is there a cure?”
                
Sombra rolled his eyes. “Probably. It’s been a while. Love? Forgiveness? Some other trite concept? Something along those lines, I’m sure.”
                
“You said when you came back from the grave in the Empire, you didn’t remember anything about your former self. What changed this last time? You wouldn’t just start remembering Nocturne out of the blue again.”
                
“It was because of those Crusaders of yours,” he breathed out. “I was more than ready to demolish this town along with its inhabitants, when I happened to spot those three fillies going about their day. They were talking about their latest plans for cutie mark gathering… and I guess it struck a chord.” He chuckled. “My softer side must be trying to make a break for it again. I’ll be sure to quell him soon enough.”
                
Twilight heard a sharp cracking noise from up above and chose to ignore it. “You saw Nocturne in the Crusaders that day and that’s why you wanted to help them. Nocturne never got the chance to earn a mark of her own, so you thought you could be more at peace by helping them.”
                
Using a hoof, Sombra busied himself straightening out his mane. “That, or what I told you in the playground tonight. This all still might be a ruse to get sympathy from you until I decide to retaliate.”
                
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
                
“Believe what you will. Only know—”
                
Both Sombra and Twilight looked above them as the glass ceiling overhead loudly shattered, raining broken shards down on them. In the midst of all the glass were Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom, who must’ve been watching the scene from the ceiling atop the laboratory. The weight of all three of them on the thin piece of glass must’ve sent it caving inwards.
                
Not one of the fillies seemed comfortable enough with their new wings to try and fly.
                
Sombra took his eyes off of them to watch Twilight. It only took a second to understand why.
                
“Do something, Twilight!” Applejack yelled.
                
Rarity cleared most of the sharp shards out of the air with her horn, but that still left the three fillies helplessly tumbling towards the ground. Or in this case, directly onto the energy-charged shield below. Still set somewhere around eleven.
                
As Sombra’s lips formed into a smirk, Twilight muttered, “Damn it!” before she removed the shield completely. At her will, three soft spots of magic winked into existence eight feet below the Crusaders. But by that point, Sombra had already caught the three of them in his forelegs with a quick leap into the air.
                
He set them down and gave Twilight a curt bow. “Thanks for the chat. I honestly do feel better now. By the way, who here’s a strong swimmer?”
                
Before Twilight could charge up her horn, Sombra formed himself into a mound of black smoke and escaped through the hole in the ceiling. Once Twilight and the others made sure none of the fillies were cut or otherwise hurt, they stood together in a circle and thought of how best to proceed.
                
“Do we go after him?” Rainbow Dash said first. “I mean… it’s obvious he’s still planning something by that last thing he said.”
                
Twilight’s eyes went from the glass on the floor to the ceiling up above. If the Crusaders were willing to try something so reckless just to see what was happening to Sombra, would they be willing to try something else in order to help Sombra—as well as the rest of Ponyville?
                
Twilight raised her voice to be heard. “I have a feeling I know where Sombra’s going, but I don’t think it’s wise for us to interfere. It’s clear he has no attachment to any one of us, besides the Crusaders; which means that I need you three to try and talk him down from whatever he’s planning.”
                
She looked down at Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom.
                
“You three might be the last chance we’ve got of getting through to him.”